She felt it as soon as the ship exited hyperspace - a shadow looming over her mind, so vast she could only compare it to the sight of the Earth's horizon visibly curving when she soared kilometers above ground.
However, where the sight was awe-inspiring, a testament to the freedom flight gave her even in the middle of war, this… sensation was the opposite: A choking, overwhelming presence that demanded complete submission. It brought back memories of wrestling her very soul against an infernal device strapped to her neck. But she was sure this time it was not the work of Being X. No, this was…
"Korriban." She caught the name whispered in myriad alien languages, the word spoken with palpable dread - literally so. She felt it brush against her soul, a slime of fear and anger oozing out with every shallow breath and quiet sob.
She had no desire to partake in the highly personal experience that was others' emotions. Barring it being a horrible, mutually non-consensual breach of privacy, she more than earned her mindscape's sovereignty - no paranormal power had any right to invade it by proxy!
Earned it~ She laughed at the notion, an ugly, mirthless chuckle. Unless she enforced it, this world, Being X, the 'Force', all would think nothing of taking what she earned. Including her freedom, the cold of the shock collar's metal reminded her.
"Slave 033-647." That was her number. "You are showcasing symptoms of heightened anger and aggression. Reminder: attacking other slaves, or otherwise damaging Imperial property will result in the release of of an incapitating electrical pulse from your collar. Further attempts will be met with immediate termination."
Identical electronic voices rang out from other droid overseers, addressed mainly towards military and criminal types. Not all of them took her example and remained brooding in their seats: a towering alien, Houk if she remembered correctly, ripping off the robot's head with his bare hands, then roaring in pain when his efforts were rewarded with a surge of electricity.
Untiring, autonomous machines overseeing organic slaves. She would laugh at the sheer disgusting absurdity of it, if her predicament didn't so quite thoroughly sour her mood. She discarded further thoughts on the matter, focusing inward to stave of the putrid waves of her fellow slaves' fear and hate crashing upon her mind.
=(×)=
Her... meditation, for the lack of a better word, came to an end with the landing of her transport, urged as they were by the droids to move. She wasn't on the planet yet - the oppressive emotional shadow it cast was far too distant for that. A larger ship or a space station then.
Exiting the ship's cramped hold, she was greeted by the sight of a cavernous hangar separated from empty space by nothing besides a faintly shimmering force field. The view would have been breathtaking, if not for the circumstances.
The overseer droids did their best to arrange her and the fellow slaves into neat rows upon exiting, the different gabarites of various species greatly hampering their efforts. Only when they achieved what their protocols qualified as a satisfactory result, did the first non-collared organic she saw in quite some time grace their presence.
"Listen up, scum." The man addressing them wore a grey military uniform, his plain face contorted in a disgusted grimace. "This is your final stop before the Sith Academy, where you will become the stepping stones for your betters; For real people, unlike you animals. My duty is to ensure the future dark lords don't catch fleas while slaughtering you lot. Follow the droids to the medical facilities. Humans, with 4B-3C! The rest, with 2B-9S!"
She checked the droids' plaques, joining the group following 9S, only to be stopped by the man's shouting. "You, Chiss, with humans! Imperial allied species deserve at least this much."
Both the humans and the aliens gave her a derisive glance. She wanted to kill the man on the spot. By singling her out, as a member of their oppressor's allies no less, he painted a giant target on her. For humans and aliens both! And her blue skin, out of place among the sea of shades of cream and brown, will only worsen the matter further.
Case in point, a gruff-looking woman turned to her on the way to the facilities. "How did one of the Empire's bootlickers end up in shackles? Stepped on a few too many toes?"
She measured the muscular woman. A military type, either a captured soldier or mercenary. She likely knew how to properly leverage her strength in a fight. Antagonising her by remaining silent would be undesireable.
"Never licked any boots, nor stepped on any toes." She replied in a measured tone. "My parents left the Ascendancy before I was born, hoping to escape poverty by striking rich on some Imperial border world. Then, when I turned out to be 'force-sensitive' and facing a one way ticket to Korriban, we ran… for all the good it did us. As we speak, they are probably being worked to death in some mine, and I still ended up here. Only in shackles."
"That's what they get for trusting Imps." Despite her harsh tone, the woman's face softened somewhat. "Trust me when I say this, the only thing that matters to them is getting what they want. And what they want is war. Nothing is sacred to them." Judging by the woman's tone, she was still haunted by what she saw.
And she was to at best become cannon fodder for this kind of military… Damn it! She should have disregarded her parents, and faced conscription head on, like she did in her last life! Maybe then her future prospects would have been better…
Ha! There was no point deluding herself. This Empire was not her Empire, the nation of meritocracy she was willing to fight besides. No, this interstellar embodiment of evils and inefficiencies of facism was not worth trying her chances with. Gambling on successful escape into Republic space was still the right call. Even if she ended up rolling snake eyes. Because of course she did.
Stewing in regret at her bad decisions, and the hate she felt towards the vile piece of shit that forced them upon her occupied the rest of her time on the space station. She showered, went through the medical examination, which proclaimed her in near-perfect health, and dressed in some manner of red robes. After that, the overseer droid led her and fellow slaves to a shuttle bay, where they rejoined their alien compatriots and were divided into groups. Once aboard the craft and flying towards the surface, another droid went around with a pair of clamps, unfastening their shock collars. For all the good it did. It wasn't like they had anywhere to run.
"Look at that, if it isn't the unfortunate Chiss." The familiar soldier woman said. "Seems we'll be enjoying our mutual company for some time still."
"Don't count on it." A Houk huffed. "I'm gonna break ya all in two like twigs in no time. Then, once I snap some shit-stained Sith's neck and steal their ship, it's back to the Rim."
"I know your type." A light blue skinned, horned humanoid growled out. "Were you Hutt Cartel, Exchange, or Black Sun?"
"Try best fucking speeder mechanic this side of the galaxy, ya dimwit pansy! Don't even mention Hutts and me in the same sentence! Got a prime chop shop going until one of the slugs decided I was too good for business. Sold me to the Imps, to work on one of their droid assemblies."
"Don't waste your strength on bickering." A bone masked alien hissed. "Save it for the challenges ahead. Or don't. Should make for easier prey."
"Ya want sum of this, bone face?!" The Houk all but shoved his fist up the humanoid's visage.
"Charmed, all." The soldier woman sighed. "We should at least introduce ourselves, to have a name to remember once the Sith force us to kill each other. I'll start. I'm Saredin Hershman, corporal in the 306th Republic Infantry Division." Silence followed her words. "Anyone else?"
"Call me Tanya." She finally replied. A name accustomed to and fit for war. A name she will wear for her real one to never be stained by blood she despised spilling.
Her name.