He was given a number when he arrived: 987323. He was told not to talk to any other prisoner and not to ask the guards for anything because he wouldn’t get it anyway. “Not even for seconds on dessert?” he’d asked, and in response had received a force pike in the stomach. That had taken hours to recover from. He had to remember to keep his mouth shut.
The situation was hopeless, he supposed, but he had been trained as a Jedi, and so he resisted feeling hopeless. There was always a way. Or, as Yoda would say, a way there always is.
He wondered about Trever, the thirteen-year-old who had pretty much adopted him as a guardian. He had been along to break into the Temple - both times. He didn’t seem to want to leave Ferus’s side. Would Solace take care of him? Not that Trever would let anyone take care of him, exactly. And not that Solace had the warmest of characters. Still, he hoped Trever was all right. He was a street thief and an explosives expert and a pain in the neck, but he was still a boy.
The rat returned, and Ferus winged his boot at it again. It retreated, baring its teeth in a rather human way that gave Ferus a chill. He hoped he wouldn’t see those teeth sunk into his ankle later. Maybe sleeping wasn’t such a good idea.
“Do you mind, chum?” The voice of his cellmate rose out of the corner. Ferus had been thrown into the cell in the pitch-black and hadn’t met him yet. He was just a shape in the corner. “I’m trying to sleep.”
“There’s a meer rat -“
“You don’t say. What a shock.” Ferus could only see a gleam of pale skin across the space. “They like to eat boots. Use them as a pillow.”
“Use my boots as a pillow?”
“What, duracrete is such a nice cushion? Keep a rock in your hand and crush its skull when you get a chance. Leave the body. The others will get the message. Better do it or else you’ll find one chewing on your face in the middle of the night.”
“I don’t have a rock.”
Ferus could hear his cellmate’s sigh. “Why do I always get stuck with the new guy? Heads up.” A good-sized rock suddenly loomed out of the darkness. Ferus caught it, but if he hadn’t had quick reflexes it would have bashed in the side of his head.
“Thanks. So where am I?”
“Dontamo Prison. But don’t worry, you won’t be here long. One day soon you’ll be dead.”
“I got that impression. Has anyone ever escaped?”
“Death is your escape, my friend.” Ferus heard his cellmate turn over to face him. Now he could see the gleam of his eyes. “All right, I can see that I won’t get any sleep until I give you the lowdown. Whatever you do, don’t get sick. No one who goes to the infirmary ever comes back. Second, don’t talk to anyone during the day. And don’t talk to me unless you have to. I have a whole fantasy world going on in my head, and I don’t like to be interrupted. I’m on a picnic with my wife, and the sun is shining, and I’m about to eat one of her sweetberry tarts.”
“You’re married?”
“Never ask a personal question,” the prisoner continued. “Never fall down. Never tell anyone you’re innocent. Nobody had a trial here, so we’ve got the innocent and the guilty and it makes no difference. Nothing matters here except putting in your time until you get to die. Everybody fights over rations. That’s the currency here. Eat fast. And one last thing, the most important thing - don’t cross Prisoner 677780. He runs the gang here. We just call him 67. Don’t even catch his eye. You’ll be sorry if you do.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
“My advice is, think of the best day of your life and replay it in your head. Now leave me alone.”
Ferus felt his cellmate turn away. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, and clutching the rock. Was this all he had left? Hanging on to a memory, replaying it until death came for him?
Best day of his life . .
He and Roan, on a hiking trip on the neighboring world of Tati, deep in the forest, coming upon a waterfall that slid into a deep pool of green. They had been so hot, and they’d dived in, straight to the bottom. The water was so cold they came up shivering and laughing… .
He heard the rat scuttling forward and he brought his hand down, hard, with the rock in his fist. The rat lay still.
Those Jedi reaction skills sure could come in handy… .
CHAPTER THREE
Trever flattened himself on the metal walkway. He heard the ping of blaster fire and the cries from people being hit. He smelled smoke from the detonators and the burning dwellings. He heard the sound of bodies falling.
He was hiding, his usual position in a battle. But this time it was different. This time he couldn’t move. His fingers shook as he curled them around the grating underneath him. His hiding place was good, behind one of the Imperial troops’ own speeders. There was a guard, but he hadn’t seen Trever. For a brief moment Trever had thought of stealing the speeder, but he knew he’d be blasted to bits in seconds.