In the days following her trial, Nida had been stripped of both her lightsaber, and any rank she’d held within any Jedi order. She had a chance to earn those back, if she could prove both willing and sincere.
Before it came to that though, she’d have to serve out on a murder charge. The trial had been initially focused on her time as a Sith, but emphasis had shifted on the murder of the Duros senator, pieced together by those conducting the trial. And while she’d been a Jedi, no less.
When she’d acted as a healer, Nida visited penitentiaries on occasion to perform her duties. She assumed—naively—that simply setting foot into a prison would have prepared her, at least in some part, of what was to come.
Her first few weeks in Sunspot were spent in relative confinement to her cell. Her robes had been replaced with the orange mesh of a prisoner’s jumpsuit, and she was required to wear a device around her wrist that dampened her connection to the Force. Her room was spartan, an uncomfortable bed and a blanket, but livable. The meals were tasteless and bland, but they were meals. Instead of the more revered treatment she’d grown used to, the prison staff were strict and tolerated little in the way of nonsense, not that Nida gave them any trouble. The former Padawan had always been obedient to a fault, a tenant that was constantly challenged by her sisters..
She cried herself to sleep the first night, and the second, and the third.
It wasn’t that Nida thought she didn’t deserve to be there. Self-defense was a line that had blurred her crime, perhaps skewing a civilian into innocent territory. But Nida was a Jedi, and for a Jedi to take a life was often a contested manner, depending on which doctrine you followed. Thirdas Heavenshield had defended her actions during the trial, but his words had done little to sway the council. In the end, part of her was relieved for the sentence, which would begin to appease the mountains of shame she’d been building since that day on Yurb.
In a certain light, she was still a child. A child who’d tried to hold herself to a higher standard than she was capable of. Maybe her failings were in part due to the failings of those around her, but Nida was the one who’d held the knife in the end. As far as her meek nature was concerned, that was the only thing that mattered. Maybe the punishment levied was on the heavy end, but Jend-Ro Quill had cautioned the council against letting similar actions slide, citing comparable instances that had lasting consequences.
Still, she was only humanoid. She missed her family, her friends, and her familiar surroundings. She missed Thirdas and Kyra Perl, who hadn’t spoken to her since Korriban.
So if she was to be made an example of, Nida would bear her punishment in docile silence, muffled by the scratchy blanket.
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After several weeks and numerous medical and psychiatric evaluations, Nida was deemed stable and low-risk enough to be moved into the general prison population, provided she continued with her weekly evaluations and maintained good behavior.
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“What’d you do, Tiny?”
The food in gen pop actually resembled real food. After weeks of subsisting off of nutripaste, Nida was excited to eat over-boiled mushy vegetables and mystery meat. The problem with gen pop was the pop part. Simply put, the other women scared her. She’d stopped near a table of them when one had called out to her. A Gammorean with tattoos were her eyebrows would be, if Gammoreans had eyebrows.
“U-um.”
Wasn’t this the sort of thing you weren’t supposed to ask? At least that’s how it went in the prison holodramas. But the table was looking at her expectantly, and Nida scanned over each of their faces. Did all Twi’leks have sharp teeth like the blue women on the end?
“I, uh. I hurt… …someone.” She squeaked, instinctively holding her lunch tray closer to her chest, an act that made her look even smaller.
Silence hung over the table before it was ripped apart by laughter.
“You hurt someone? What’d they do, take your ice cream?”
“Didn’t know they threw people into Sunspot for pushing someone in the kiddie pool!”
“This aint Weenie Hut Corrections, kid. That’s one system over.”
Nida could feel her face bloom with heat, the blush creeping behind her ears as she shrank back.
The women continued to hoot over their fellow baby-faced prisoner before their laughs began to settle. Nida was about to skooch away when a Nautolan with…interesting subject matter inked onto her lekku motioned for the Gammorean and a sharp-faced blonde human to make room. The latter didn’t seem particularly pleased, glaring at Nida as she awkwardly sandwiched herself between the two and set her tray down.
“Th…ank you.” She pinned on a tired smile.
The Nautolan leaned forward, dark eyes swirling in the harsh lighting above them. “Kid, you’ll get eaten alive here on your own.”
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