The Rebels
Verica sat in her cell curled up. The Captain had been kind enough to give her a sheet to act as a blanket, but the metal was too cold. It reminded her of Polis Massa, and she shivered. She lay there, trying her hardest not to cry. While she hated Polis Massa, her father was there, and her father always made things better. It pained her to know that he was not in this world any longer.
Suddenly, the cell door opened, and the brute from earlier appeared. He carried a tray, with warm looking food, and a coat. He walked in, setting the tray down next to Verica. He then unfolded the coat and covered her with it. "I apologize that these cells are colder than the surface of Hoth, but give it time, The Captain will come around." He nods, then begins to walk away. Verica sat up, looking at Draxacon.
"Wait, what do you mean?" She asked, the coat and sheet falling to her lap, causing her to shiver more as her top was left undefended by the warm objects. The man stopped and looked at the camera, pulling out the same device he had pulled out last time and pressed it, the same thing happening once more, the camera shut down momentarily. He then turned around, approaching Verica slowly.
"I mean that the Captain will soon learn the truth about himself. Just give him time." He said, squatting in front of the prisoner. "His little outburst in reaction to seeing you has made him begin to question, I hope." He looks away, standing up and walking towards the door. "If I know him, though, he will begin to uncover the truth." The door slid open, and the camera reactivated as the door slid shut.
Verica looked to the tray of food, seeing the heat rising from it. She moved and grabbed the utensil provided, and began eating.
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Desmonadon was sitting on the bench in his cell, one leg hanging from the edge, the other placed on the bench itself, his right arm dangling from his knee. He kept his eye on the door, waiting intently for it to open so he could try to bust out. He thought that when they first went to Kuat, that he would just be transferred there, but he hadn't. He came to the conclusion that this Jaeger was keeping him as a trophy of sorts. He growled as the thought came to mind, tightening his fist as he looked at the door.
He jumped slightly when the door slid open suddenly. Now was his chance, or it would have been if there weren't two Storm Troopers that rushed in aiming their E-11 blasters at him. He sighed, settling back down. The two StormTroopers lowered their blasters, keeping their gaze on the prisoner as a large brute of a man walked in. Desmonadon knew this man was the commanding officer of the Storm Troopers stationed on the vessel, but he never bothered to learn his name. The beast walked in, holding a tray of food. Desmonadon simply watched as the officer set the tray down next to Desmonadon, and began to walk away. The prisoner then cleared his throat, making the officer stop and causing the troopers to raise their blasters once more. The large man looked over his shoulder, not offering Desmonadon the pleasure of turning around all of the way. "Choose your next words carefully, prisoner."
"Why am I still here? I thought I would've been transferred over to an Imperial prison or executed by now." Desmonadon stated, shifting so both of his feet were on the floor, his arms dangling from his legs. The officer turned around fully, then waved his troopers off. The two troopers left the cell and the door slid shut. The officer then moved in close to Desmonadon, uncomfortably close. The officer then whispered.
"Because you still have some uses left, old man. Uses that require you to be here and alive." The officer then backed off as Desmonadon began trying to process what the man just said. He looked to the wall next to the door as the officer left the cell, leaving him to ponder what exactly he meant.
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Meanwhile
Across the galaxy
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The moon of Yavin was a beautiful world, a gorgeous green against the hellish orange of the gas giant. On the moon itself, however, hid a secret the Empire would love to wipe from the galaxy.
An abandoned temple stands tall within a lush and vibrant jungle, the wildlife slowly reclaiming the massive temple. The temple, however, was not so abandoned, for it was a hive for rebels and rebel sympathizers. People ran into the jungle to go and check on any of the small outposts that dotted the perimeter, some holding scanning equipment, others becoming the sights for defensive turrets. All over the open areas between the jungle and the temple were space vessels; some of these vessels were fighters, others were drop ships, and a few corvettes that had knocked over some of the trees while landing due to their size.
The once mundane temple was now renovated to have modern doors, terminals and lifts. The rebels had made this shell into a strong hold. Cables and crates were scattered within the base, and rebels were busy at work. Some were doing inventory, others were trying to repair fighters that were wheeled in, and others were just moving from one place to the other.
One rebel was walking in a panic, lightly bumping into other rebel workers and almost tripping on a number of the wires. She was approaching a door that was visible from the main opening, the sun shining on it, calling to her. She nearly ran face first into a reprogrammed Imperial security droid, but avoided hitting the sarcastic robot. She neared the door, the door sliding open for her, and she began to slow down, collecting herself. She walked through the threshold and approached a Mon Calamari admiral who was looking over a terminal. She stood behind him and waited patiently until the admiral turned around and focused on her. She nodded and said what she was eager to say.
"Admiral Raddus, sir, the plans for the Centurion-Class star destroyers were confiscated. The Empire has reclaimed the data." The admiral's orb-like eyes widened, then he sighed and looked away.
"Thank you for informing me." He shakes his head and focuses back on the task he was working on. The woman walked away, and as she did so, she could hear the Mon Calamari growl.