The refugee shuttle rocked as it came out of hyperspace above the desert planet. The shuttles definitely weren’t top of the line, but they did their job, even if the ride was rough. There was a short wait as the shuttle approached the Imperial cruiser and was cleared for entry once the proper codes were exchanged. Lohke sat atop an abandoned supply crate along the wall of the shuttle, peering out of the small viewport. He watched the inky blackness of space transition into cloud coverage and then clear away to reveal Abafar’s orange skies and its infamous desert, the Void. 

Staring at the planet surface as the shuttle made its way toward the Rhydonium mining facility, if it could be called that, Lohke saw why the desert was called the Void; it stretched on with not so much as a sand dune or farmstead. The “workers”, the people of Abafar, were no more than slaves to the Empire now. As all slaves tend to do, they grew tired of the Empire’s boot to their throats and called for aid. Apparently there was a lone rebel cell operating on Abafar that had made contact with the Alliance, so the higher ups decided to send Lohke to make contact with the cell and gauge the situation. They awaited his report to make a decision on sending aid to the rebels of Abafar.

The shuttle touched down with a jolt that forced most of the refugees to steady themselves before making their way to the exit ramp, where their identification would be verified and their persons checked by the troopers. The people were desperate enough to come to this wasteland to work under the Empire as slaves. Lohke grabbed his satchel and followed the line of refugees to the aft ramp. He held his arm out to the troopers to be scanned as he stepped forward. There were six total around the landing pad; two to scan and pat the refugees down and the other four to impose the fear of the Empire in their sand-stained armor and loaded blasters.

The scanner read Lohke’s ID band and came back with his falsified history. He was operating under the alias, Lavoz Bola. Lavoz, Lav for short, was an incoming supervisor for the mining facility. He wouldn’t be treated much better than the actual workers, but he’d be afforded just enough leeway to make contact with the rebel cell. Next came the other trooper’s search of Lohke’s person and his bag. Nothing but clothes and a measly pile of credits.

“Report to Section Three’s Foreman,” the first trooper said in the usual mechanical voice.

“And where would they be?”

The trooper checked his datapad before replying, “Section six-oh-two. Follow the markers. Next.”

Lohke left the landing pad to make his way into the mines. The markers were easy enough to follow through the facility. As he passed through the mines, he could feel more than see the workers bristle as he passed them. They were weary of a newcomer who wasn’t led into the facility in a line, as that could only mean he wasn’t a new worker but someone who would be over them in some way. He ignored them for the time being.

When he came to the marker with “602” shining on it, he began looking around for the foreman, who came in the form of a [url=http://cdn.obsidianportal.com/assets/141818/Besalisk2.jpg]male Besalisk[/url]. He was standing on a catwalk above the workers, peering down upon them. In these mines he was the one in charge, he had the power. As Lohke walked up the catwalk to the foreman, he could see the pistol strapped to his belt. He let his eyes linger for a moment on the weapon.

“Oo are you,” the foreman asked in between chewing on the end of a stale-looking cigara.

“New supervisor for Section Three. You the Section Three foreman?”

“Aye, that I am. ID band,” the foreman demanded, bringing up his scanner in one of his four hands. Lohke held out his arm to the Besalisk like he had with the troopers. The scan came back green and presented the same falsified information as the first scan had.

“Lavoz Bola?”

“That’s me. Lav for short though.”

“Right. Head over to the bunkhouse. You get a bunk to yourself. You’ll be over Bunk Eight. Last supervisor was dumb enough to let his skin get exposed to the Rhydonium.”

Lohke nodded and made to go find his bunk.

“Oh, and you don’t get one o’ these, “ the foreman patted his blaster, “strictly for the Foremen and troopers.”

Lohke nodded again and left the foreman behind to chuckle to himself as he relished in imposing his power over the workers in the mine, a product of having the Empire impose its will on the galaxy more and more.