Despite the imminent danger of armour-clad stormtroopers rounding the corner at any second and gunning Fibu and his small squad down, the Bith found something oddly comforting about the corridors of this station. Everything was clean and smooth, almost clinical. To some degree it reminded Fibu of his practice back home. All it needed was a bit of greenery and some medical posters on the wall and he would have been tempted to find a quiet side room and set up shop. 

“How much further?” The sergeant in Fibu’s squad spoke at last, having ignored most of the idle chatter that had been going on between them for the past ten minutes or so. The station was something of a maze. “Det?” Fibu looked over his shoulder at Detevi, a young Zabrak private. She was jostling with a holomap, rotating it to try and make sense of it and muttering curse words under her breath every few seconds. She was barely an adult, with as smooth a face as Fibu had ever seen and bright, excited blue eyes. A ring of stubby horns circled the crown of her head and faint tattoos accentuated the sharp lines of her face. Her hair was so dark brown that it was almost black, pulled back into a neat bun and contrasting with the pale brown of her skin. Form the look of her, Fibu suspected she had lied about her age when she signed up.

“Uh… not much further, sir. By my reckoning, if we take the next left it should only be a few minutes until we reach the control centre.” The sergeant gave a nod and a grunt as response, adjusting the stock of his rifle into his shoulder and checking it was loaded.

“It’s quiet,” the other private chimed in. His voice was shaky; Fibu could practically smell the fear-induced adrenaline coursing through his system. 

“Which means only two things,” Fibu responded. “Either we are walking straight into a trap, or things have gone seriously wrong elsewhere and that’s where all the stormtroopers are.” He paused. “My money is on the first one, knowing my luck.”

“Great. That’s really reassuring, thanks doc.” The male private was obviously dissatisfied with the Bith’s answer. He too adjusted his rifle, his eyes darting from side to side as if the walls were going to open up to reveal hundreds of Imperial soldiers. 

“We’ll be fine, private.”

“With all due respect sir, that really doesn’t make me any more relaxed.”

Fibu chuckled to himself. “What’s your name private?” He was older than Detevi, but still a youngster. A duros, with smooth aqua-green skin and fiery orange eyes. 

“Malcan, sir.”

“And is this your first mission?”

“It is sir.” His voice was hushed, almost embarrassed. 

“What did you do before you joined up with the Moons?” He hoped that if he could take Malcan’s mind away from their current situation the boy might get a few minutes of mental peace before they were all potentially shot to bits. 

“I worked on my dad’s freighter. Just loading and unloading. Nothing exciting.”

“I bet you’ve seen some incredible places.”

Malcan shrugged. “A lot of planets look the same under the Empire. Grey, industrial, lifeless.” Fibu nodded his agreement.
“Silence. This is it.” The sergeant cut through the conversation. They had already rounded the corner and walked on a few minutes, and now they faced an enormous grey blast door. “Malcan, open the door. “Det, Fibu, on me.” The three stacked up. He wasn’t sure if the sergeant was aware that Fibu would never pull his trigger, but if not, he was in for a nasty shock. “On my signal, Malcan.” There were a few seconds of tense silence. Everyone looked nervously at each other, lined up with rifles pointed directly at the door. “Now!”

With a hiss, the doors slid aside and made way for Fibu’s team to enter. They were met by a squad of startled engineers, clad in grey uniforms and not a single blaster between them. “Don’t shoot!” Fibu shouted. The whole squad turned and looked at him. “They’re unarmed.” The sergeant glanced back at the engineers, then fixed his gaze on Fibu.

“Bind them, take their commlinks and anything else on them and lock them in the supply closet at the back.” Fibu audibly released the tension in his stomach with a loud sigh. He took his earplugs out, now safe from the prospect of imminent blaster fire. 
“Malcan, get those doors sealed and make sure they can only be opened either from the inside or with enough firepower to sink a star destroyer. Det, help Fibu bind the Imps.” Fibu and Detevi went soldier to soldier, stripping them of their commlinks, any pouches on their belts or anything that could possibly be used to construct an escape. Using whatever they could find, mainly the engineer’s own belts, they bound their wrists tight behind their back and ushered them into the empty storage cupboard. Detevi shot the internal door controls as the doors shut, ensuring their safe capture. 
“Prisoners secure, sir,” said Fibu.

“Good. Malcan, try to raise anyone else on the comms. See what we can do to help out from here. Detevi, Fibu, get on the consoles and try to work out what’s what. If we can control the Imperial defences from here, we might be able to save a lot of our guys.” 
Fibu took his seat, finding himself gazing at power distribution readouts and camera screens. He uttered a silent prayer under his breath, hoping everyone else had found things just as simple and his skills weren’t being wasted sat in a chair at a console.