Location: Somewhere in Sith Space, aboard an ORDIS ship
--
--
Amaranth sat on the cold floor of her holding cell with closed eyes. To her left was a small footlocker, where she would have stored her possessions if she had any, and to her right was the thin, uncomfortable mattress that passed for a bed. And laid on the ground, a few inches in front of her, there was a stone. Smooth and grey and featureless, vaguely elliptical in shape.
Beyond being sparse and cheap, the quarters that the Office of Imperialization had provided her were cramped. She was fairly certain, if she closed her eyes and sat perfectly still, she could hear the scuttling of vermin in the walls. This didn't bother her as much as it maybe should have, however - cramped living conditions and uninvited company had been part of her life for as long as she could remember. It didn't bother her, either, that her possessions - a short vibroblade and a blaster pistol - had been taken from her. She was new to the Empire. Not even a citizen, and she got the impression that the Imperial government didn't exactly trust its citizens. Besides, those could be easily replaced.
What bothered Amaranth was the smugness. It had rolled off, in waves, of every official she'd spoken to since her arrival in Sith-Imperial Space. And she despised it. She'd had the same experience in Republic Space, but there, at least, she understood it. Both the Republic and the Empire told the same lie, of course - that they were The Greatest Good, that with their gunships and jackboots and blasters, they would usher in an era of peace and security and happiness across the Galaxy. Amaranth found the lie insufferable no matter who was currently deluding themselves into believing it, but she had to admit, it rang hollower when the speaker's team stood upon several star systems' worth of dead.
The stone at Amaranth's feet wobbled, subtly, for a few seconds.
She'd live with it, though. She'd endure all the annoyance, all the insipid lies and moralizing and holier-than-thou attitudes the galaxy could throw at her. Because sooner or later, she'd have power. Power meant never having to go hungry again. Power meant none of your friends ever having to go hungry again, either. And most importantly, at least to Amaranth, at least in the moment, power meant every Directorate staffer who sneered when you couldn't answer a question, every inquisitorial agent who lectured you on the Importance Of Loyalty, every guard who handled you just a bit too roughly, at your feet, begging forgiveness for ever daring to even slightly inconvenience you.
The stone wobbled again, and rose, a few inches, off the floor.
Amaranth opened her eyes, glowing a dull, smoldering orange, and grinned.
Power. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Last edited by a moderator: