Commander Hughes stood on the bridge of his destroyer, arms clasped behind his back surveying the scene before him. The Domination hovered in low orbit of this backwards planet. In the distance he could see some of their rudimentary airships floating around transporting non-essential resources from one port to another. By non-important, it meant resources that were of no interest to the Empire. If they were they would have been transported aboard an Imperial Freighter. He couldn't wait until they had stripped this planet dry of all their resources, then he could leave this insignificant backwater of a planet behind and move elsewhere in the system. A R4-Series droid wheeled onto the bridge, plugging in with the latest update. Looking down at his datafile he nodded. The Mining Guild had recently deployed it's first Ore Crawler to the world, a behemoth of a machine that would strip the planets surface of all it's resources and burn the top layers of the ground away.

It was a necessary evil, it prevented waste of any valuable metals when digging up for a mine, while also allowing them to collect vast amounts of resources without taking the time to dig down and remain structural integrity. Not only did they collect the resources, they processed them and had them refined and ready to go to the factories. So far the Empire hadn't built many factories on Armania, however work was being started on a new factory. Pretty soon the entire planet would be working for their heroes.

---

A Stormtrooper Captain walked up the ramp with an electrostaff in hind, his E-11 being held by a subordinate who shadowed him. He looked around the body of the shuttlecraft, his cold unfeeling gaze peering through the helmet to the riff-raff assorted. From teenage boys, Chadra-Fans and elder aged individuals it was obvious that the only thing that would ever bring a group like this together would be. He stood to the side and a large looming Besalisk walked up the ramp, his species characteristicly large chin swayed back and forth as he walked up the ramp. On his waist were two electrowhips coiled up, with two staffs attached to his back.

He very clearly wore the helmet of a Mining Guild slave driver. His lower right hand grabbed onto the hilt of one of the whips, he snapped the activation hilt and yellow energy crackled down the whip and jumped around the body of the hold as he slammed it down onto the floor of the shuttle. If anyone wasn't paying attention to the slaver, they would be now. "You all work for me now. You will call me sir." He pointed his lower left arm out of the shuttle door. "Down that ramp is your new home, get yourself down that ramp and to work."

One of the individuals, a Shistaven stood up. "You don't control me!"

With one flick of his wrist the whip coiled itself around the beings neck. "Is that so?" With a giant thumb he pushed down on a button, sending electricity coursing through the beings body. "Anyone else?"

Colin Cooper forced himself to walk down the ramp to his new slave quarters, resisting the urge to just slump down in despair as he saw the grim reality of servitude close around him. He looked around for a place where he can be most productive, somewhere far away from the frightening glow of the smelters. In the end, he would, if the Overseer didn't stop him, move towards the conveyor belt where slave-miners were supposed to sort the ores by quality and join whoever was doing the sorting, making a hurried "Sorry," for the intrusion if there was anyone else there. He would then begin seperating the good ores that carried purer quality metal from the bad ores that had more rock and base materials; he knew how to do so because his Engineering course in University included a lot of lessons in Geology, thanks to the overlap between the two subjects.

Noticing that his new Mining Guild slave wear was clinging tightly to his shoulders, retaining heat and sweat and ensuring maximum discomfort while ensuring actual safety, Colin pushed himself to find a rythm in his work and to do said work as efficiently as possible in order not to anger the whip-carrying Overseer. He was still in shock and would be for the first few hours, but knew that he couldn't let that influence him. Forget about your old life, he thought. You're a slave now. You will be one forever.

He missed Lisa; his parents, not so much. He also missed the Headmaster of his University. But as he worked on, Colin found a sense of...acceptance? Yeah, he was getting accustomed to his fate; after all, society on Armania was based on class and caste anyway; he'd just switched to a lower one. And what life was free of anguish anyway?

The structure of the ore crawler is linear; the captain is most probably at the cockpit. And a place as big as this must have communication equipment. And also an infirmary for minor injuries and cases where it was cost-effective to take care of slaves. And a reactor; do not forget a reactor. And of course, maintenance rooms for spare parts. His brain wandered even as his hands kept perfectly sorting the ores, thinking treacherous thoughts. Colin noticed this, and forcefully clamped down on his mind, knowing full well that:

That there is no escape, not even inside your head. The slavers will get to you, get in your head, make you so frightened of them that even your sleep and dreams will suffer. That is my life. That is my fate. Just accept it; maybe they'll give you slight rewards for being obedient.

Do not cry. Hold back your tears until they give you a shower or a meal or until it is time for rest. Remind yourself: You are this forever.

"I am a slave forever," he involuntarily spoke in a haunted tone that tried to convey pain and despair, "And I will always be."

@Sep