Gate sat in the turbulent interior of the shuttle as it climbed through the thin atmosphere of Redemption. It was dark and cramped and the dry air was made thick with fear and excitement.

Gate hadn't flown much in his life. This was the second time, in fact; the last being his departure from his homeworld to the chartered penal transporter.

Both that time and this, he had been aware of some part of his mind that was afraid of flying. Both times, however, it was eclipsed by more pressing emotions. When he was first convicted, these had been emotions of fear, shame, failure. Now, they were emotions of confusion and sickening anticipation. He thought he would feel overjoyed to finally be free of Redemption, now so far away from him and unable to cage him any longer. But what he felt most was a rising sense of existential terror. He had not escaped imprisonment for free - rather, he was being freed only on the basis of his almost certain death in the very real future. He was, most likely, going to die. This was a death sentence wrapped up in the premise of a pardon. 

What if all they wanted to do was clear space for new occupants? What if all they wanted to do was get rid of those that still entertained a notion of escape?

He cursed it bitterly. It was unfair. Things like this shouldn't happen to people like him. He was talent, and he was being thrown away by the careless and unseeing hand of the Imperium.

Docking came. Gate pounded through the deep, ancient hallways of the transport amongst the herd, thousands of stamping feet on old iron creating a terrible noise like a heathen ritual drum.

He was glad when they came at last to the vast hangar, and to finally have some time to escape the crowd. To find a bed of his own. A simple animal comfort to distract him from his dire thoughts.

He laid out a bunk, snatched the key to a locker, and sat for a moment. By chance, he realised his bunk was laid out amongst some faces he recognised from earlier, in the conscription hall.

He thought of offering them something to break the ice, but realised he had never been allowed to clean his cell. His lho sticks, stashed contraband, prison currency - all of it - was gone. It was like starting a new life all over again. 

He drummed on his thighs awkwardly in the dingy darkness.