06-21-2018, 01:57 PM
Thick blue goop coalesced around her naked body. For all intents and purposes, the former experiment was asleep—but within the bacta tank, her consciousness lingered.
She felt the gaping wound on the small of her back begin to sew itself up. Her muscles were repacked inside her body, and any dried blood stains were washed away. The nerves on her back regrew, dancing with the blobs of goop and air pockets that caressed her skin.
Jiang Shen had been taken advantage of by the very woman Eleanor had been conferring with earlier. Lieutenant Atreya was a predator, reeling in young men and women with faux kindness and sold them to the highest bidder. And she’d almost fallen victim to it. The woman had almost gotten her, too, and with the simple promise of a warm meal and a place to stay. How could she have been so stupid?
Her Father has taught her that everyone deserved a chance, and perhaps they did—but what should happen to them if that chance was squandered?
Her Mother had always taught her the world was irredeemable.
Was that the ugly truth?
The mechanized rumblings of the bacta tank assaulted her ears as the blue liquid began to drain. Her limp form sunk with it until she crumpled against the bottom, forehead pressed to the glass. Her body had healed, but she felt… exhausted by the thoughts she’d been left with. What a strange sensation. A simple, near unconscious bath that healed all her physical wounds and exacerbated all her mental ones.
The tank’s door slid open, and so did Eleanor’s eyes. Nurses approached quickly and helped her out of the tank, leading to a private room where her clothes lay folded on a table, freshly laundered. She slipped on her undergarments in silence, then froze as the door behind her opened with a clink.
“Feeling better?” Sergeant Bastien’s voice echoed throughout the small chamber.
“Do you mind?” Eleanor snapped, “I’m changing.”
“You’re not exactly my type,” Bastien giggled, but the girl wasn’t amused.
“Perhaps not, but I am the type that enjoys privacy,” she pursed her lips sarcastically, glancing down at the ratty jumpsuit she’d worn in here. No amount of laundering could fix that thing, and she didn’t want to wear it.
“I’m simply here to make an offer,” the sergeant raised his hands. “You’re a prime with pluck, my dear. The Empire could use a girl like you. Do some odd jobs for us down here in the EPD and I can put in a good word for you.”
Eleanor turned away from Bastien. Silence lingered between them for several seconds.
“It could be very good for you,” he said.
“I’ll decide what’s good for me,” the former experiment scowled. “And right now I think I’m better off alone.”
Bastien’s expression contorted into a frown. “Suit yourself,” he snarled, “but we’ve got your OM signature now. If we find the need to call upon you to do your duty as a citizen of the Empire, we’ll know where to find you. And we’ll be in touch.”
The Sergeant turned to leave, but Eleanor’s words stopped him.
“What happens to Atreya?”
Bastien chuckled. “Need to know info, sweetheart,” he shrugged, “and you just took yourself off the list.”
The door whirred as it slid open and closed, and suddenly she was alone.
Citizen of the Empire. What did that even mean?
Her fingers danced amidst a kaleidoscope of rainbow energy, and the newborn prime slid on a replica of the emerald green dress she’d been eyeing the night before. She slid her hands down the soft fabric, then tied her jet black hair in a tight bun.
She left the EPD headquarters without another word to anyone, stepping out into the incandescent aura of Coruscant’s first tier.
A free agent.
She felt the gaping wound on the small of her back begin to sew itself up. Her muscles were repacked inside her body, and any dried blood stains were washed away. The nerves on her back regrew, dancing with the blobs of goop and air pockets that caressed her skin.
Jiang Shen had been taken advantage of by the very woman Eleanor had been conferring with earlier. Lieutenant Atreya was a predator, reeling in young men and women with faux kindness and sold them to the highest bidder. And she’d almost fallen victim to it. The woman had almost gotten her, too, and with the simple promise of a warm meal and a place to stay. How could she have been so stupid?
Her Father has taught her that everyone deserved a chance, and perhaps they did—but what should happen to them if that chance was squandered?
Her Mother had always taught her the world was irredeemable.
Was that the ugly truth?
The mechanized rumblings of the bacta tank assaulted her ears as the blue liquid began to drain. Her limp form sunk with it until she crumpled against the bottom, forehead pressed to the glass. Her body had healed, but she felt… exhausted by the thoughts she’d been left with. What a strange sensation. A simple, near unconscious bath that healed all her physical wounds and exacerbated all her mental ones.
The tank’s door slid open, and so did Eleanor’s eyes. Nurses approached quickly and helped her out of the tank, leading to a private room where her clothes lay folded on a table, freshly laundered. She slipped on her undergarments in silence, then froze as the door behind her opened with a clink.
“Feeling better?” Sergeant Bastien’s voice echoed throughout the small chamber.
“Do you mind?” Eleanor snapped, “I’m changing.”
“You’re not exactly my type,” Bastien giggled, but the girl wasn’t amused.
“Perhaps not, but I am the type that enjoys privacy,” she pursed her lips sarcastically, glancing down at the ratty jumpsuit she’d worn in here. No amount of laundering could fix that thing, and she didn’t want to wear it.
“I’m simply here to make an offer,” the sergeant raised his hands. “You’re a prime with pluck, my dear. The Empire could use a girl like you. Do some odd jobs for us down here in the EPD and I can put in a good word for you.”
Eleanor turned away from Bastien. Silence lingered between them for several seconds.
“It could be very good for you,” he said.
“I’ll decide what’s good for me,” the former experiment scowled. “And right now I think I’m better off alone.”
Bastien’s expression contorted into a frown. “Suit yourself,” he snarled, “but we’ve got your OM signature now. If we find the need to call upon you to do your duty as a citizen of the Empire, we’ll know where to find you. And we’ll be in touch.”
The Sergeant turned to leave, but Eleanor’s words stopped him.
“What happens to Atreya?”
Bastien chuckled. “Need to know info, sweetheart,” he shrugged, “and you just took yourself off the list.”
The door whirred as it slid open and closed, and suddenly she was alone.
Citizen of the Empire. What did that even mean?
Her fingers danced amidst a kaleidoscope of rainbow energy, and the newborn prime slid on a replica of the emerald green dress she’d been eyeing the night before. She slid her hands down the soft fabric, then tied her jet black hair in a tight bun.
She left the EPD headquarters without another word to anyone, stepping out into the incandescent aura of Coruscant’s first tier.
A free agent.