Writers' Challenge 9 - Dream Sequences

This is too good to fall by the way side like this, so I'll add my own little offering...



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In an Imperial holding cell


Kresa lay flat on her back and stared at the ceiling. It wasn't all that interesting, but then neither were the walls or the floor, and the ceiling didn't require any energy for staring.

Blue eyes gazed upward. If she concentrated hard enough she could almost make out familiar constellations against the dark metal. Yes, there was her X-Wing, and there was the Vengeance, and there ... what was that? Oh, right, the last of her mystery meatloaf from ... five--or was it six?--meals ago. The droids hadn't come to clean it up yet. There was the bright glow of the core, always a good landmark on her home at Brint-Wo. And there, just beyond the splash of blood they hadn't managed to quite clean off the wall, was the-

The door shooshed open with a hydrolic hiss. Kresa didn't move, didn't look. There was a subdued rattle as her old meal tray was replaced with a new one. The security droid never said anything, even when she had gone through the phase of calling it Chivers and asking it for a light coniac with the fish at dinner, and please tell the chef to watch the cook time, because it was a little dry.

There hadn't been any live guards since the time two men had tried to sneak into her cell during her sleep period. She hadn't meant to kill that man, but he'd surprised her and her martial training kicked in before she was fully awake. Evidently she'd surprised him, too. Later, his buddy was carried out beside him, still clutching the more sensitive portions of his anatomy.

The opportunity had been too good to pass up, and she'd darted out into the halls only to find herself hopelessly lost in an unfamiliar ship. That was her first escape attempt. Durning her second she learned just why they were called ?security? droids.

The droid left. Kresa sighed. She wasn't exactly hungry. She'd skipped the bulk of her self-imposed exercises this 'morning' and had only shadow danced a little to pass time.

She had no view port, the lighting in her cell never changed, giving her no clue to the actual passage of time in the world beyond her four walls. Had she been here only months, or had it been a year? More?

Sure, they'd interrogated her at first. There'd been drugs, casual beatings of the 'face slap and gut punch' variety, a few sessions with a pain inducer, and lots of questions. Kresa didn't doubt that she'd told them something. The fact that she didn't remember if she did was a mixed blessing. It might have just been her locker combo and sabacc tips, or it might have been security codes for the Vengeance and personal details for the other Red pilots. Only her interrogators knew for sure.

But since then ... nothing.

There had been no more threats, no more pain, no more questions, only the meals and her droid waiter. Only her own body's need for rest and activity told her that time marched on.

Kresa stared at the ceiling, and beyond at the shapes that might now exist only in her mind. Had they been destroyed because of her? Or was Red still out there somewhere kicking Imperial backside?

Rolling over, the pilot leaned up against the wall and drew her knees into her chest, glancing briefly over at the tray of food waiting for her. She really wasn?t hungry, but she ought to keep up her strength, she knew. Settling her forehead on her knees, she heaved a deep sigh. Just why she needed to keep her strength up was becoming a little more vague with each passing meal.

Kresa lifted her forehead from her knees just in time to see the door slide silently open. Blue eyes blinked, but she showed no curiosity or interest. The door opened frequently.

Ping stepped into the doorway, dark curls bound back from her round face. She scanned up and down the corridor before ducking into the cell, her blaster in her hand. She gestured for Kresa to come forward, glancing out into the cell bay at short interv

 

Okay, first of all, I can't take any credit for this following piece: it was done by a brilliant fan comic artist and friend of mine, TragicLad. Please enjoy...

Wookiee Dreams

snurk


*Derisa*

 

Well, I decided to take a break from the fic I was working on to participate in this challenge, and as I was writing....it mutated into a full blown plot bunny and is evolving into a full out fic.

I hate when this happens...

 

Those plot bunnies are dangerous, aren't they? They reproduce when your back is turned.