Arla wandered the barren cold halls, one hand trailing along the smooth steel plates that lined the walls.  She was allowed to roam free but she was a prisoner as much as any of those working the mines or the farms outside.  The slender of limb, green skinned twi'lek, was both powerless and untouchable simultaneously.  As the commander's pet none of the troopers would dare touch her.  It was a paradox that was almost maddening.

Another troupe of prisoners was paraded past her, another spectacle of unfortunates that she dared not appear too interested in.  This particular assortment was more than the typical, suddenly apologetic, formerly angry farmers that had been upset with their taxation.  This was a motley assortment that looked like troublemakers.  They did not bend their brows as the white armoured soldiers stalked past or shoved them along in their lines.  Often they glared back only to receive an extra shove or even a rifle butt to the face.

Maybe these prisoners could get her out of here, she considered as one head tail slid across her collarbone.  She honestly doubted any could but any slim possibility was better than waiting for the perfect chance that would never come.