First Reply What Are You In For

[Til Melarr]

The heat on Golrath was strong enough to singe a man's eyebrows, but Til was more bothered by the state of his accommodations. He sat on the steel slab they called a bunk, humming badly while he worked a clump of yellowed stuffing between his hands. He had torn it from the mattress earlier and was now pinching it into something that vaguely resembled a two-headed bantha.

When he was satisfied, he placed it on the windowsill beside the rest of his collection, a crooked speeder, a shapeless dancer, and a surprisingly detailed finger aimed directly at the security camera. "A masterpiece," Til muttered. "Really captures my inner beauty." The guards had taken his new durasteel boots shortly after processing him, leaving him with a pair of thin prison slippers that did nothing against the heat rising through the floor grates.

The whole block smelled of sulfur, sweat, and scorched metal. Every so often, a distant eruption rattled the walls and sent dust drifting from the ceiling. Til leaned back against the wall and looked across the red-lit corridor.

The prisoner in the opposite cell was unlike anything he had seen before. It was a thin, six-limbed insectoid with four large, glassy eyes. For the past three hours, it had sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully braiding its antennae into tight knots.

"Hey, four-eyes," Til called. He leaned close to the energy barrier until the charge made the hair on his arms stand up.

"You keep doing that, you're gonna give yourself a cramp. Or a concussion. Whatever it is bug people get." The creature did not move. One of its eyes slowly turned toward him while the other three remained fixed on its antennae. It answered with a noise that sounded like someone blowing through a wet sponge.

Til nodded thoughtfully. "Deep. A philosopher." He picked up the foam bantha and tossed it from one hand to the other.

"You remind me of an old friend of mine. Meetzos. He was greener, dumber, and got shot in the face a lot more, but there's definitely a resemblance." The insectoid went back to its braiding. Til studied it for another moment, then glanced toward the camera above his cell. The authorities on Onderon might have dragged him out of that pawnshop, and the guards here might have stolen his boots, but none of that meant he planned to stay.
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[Til Melarr]

When the bug-guy went back to ignoring him, the silence in the cell block settled in heavy and suffocating. Til leaned his head back against the hot permacrete wall and began to sing. It was an old pirate shanty, sung horribly off-key, his voice echoing against the walls around him.

He wasn't much for singing, but the quiet was a little too loud, and rotting in a volcanic hole had a way of bringing out a rare, unwanted itch of loneliness. His mother used to drag him by the ear and tell him he'd end up a total nobody, starving in some alleyway.

Well, joke's on you, Ma, Til thought, letting out a terrible high note that made the energy field flicker. A nobody didn't warrant a high-security cell on Golrath. You had to put in work to get sent to a planet that was actively trying to melt itself.

That was a comforting thought, at least for now. He paused his singing and looked down the row. In the dim, flickering red light of the corridor, he actually took a second to look past his own cell. He hadn't noticed it before, but the block was packed to the brim.

There were scaled heads, furry snouts, tendrils, and antennae poking out from behind almost every red energy barrier on the line. Every species and make the galaxy had to offer was crammed into the heat. Til leaned closer to the bars, resting his hands on his hips.

"Hey! Any of you ugliest-of-the-ugly named Bubba?" he yelled out down the hall. He had heard stories about prisons back on the Core worlds, and every good holonet drama swore there was always a guy named Bubba holding things down. A heavy Nikto three cells down slammed a fist against his door and growled something in a language that sounded like grinding rocks.

"Close enough! Nice to meet you, Bubba." Til pointed a thumb at him and grinned.
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[Nadi]

The only light in the cell to the left of the "philosopher" came from the red energy field caging it in, the interior lighting seeming to have been smashed to bits. No telling what by, but the guards didn't seem keen on fixing it.

It was in this cell that Nadi resided, sitting on the bunk with her legs folded in front of her, pale skin no doubt standing out even in the dim red illumination of the energy barrier. Her eyes opened and her head lifted off the wall where she'd been leaning it as the man began to sing.

<There's always one of these kriffers.>

She regarded him through the barriers between them. He was well-proportioned and tall by human standards, though his skin denoted a distinctly non-human ancestry. He seemed fit but not overly muscled, though she of all people knew how deceptive that could be, and carried himself with a casual nonchalance.

<So probably an arrogant kriff who fancies himself both a hotshot pilot and an irresistible lover. Or maybe a gunslinger of some sort. Likely not someone to get hired as muscle, though. And those types tend to be more on the clever side.>

He might be useful.

"You are obnoxiously loud."

The words were deadpan, holding no emotional inflection at all.

"And since some of us are trying not to commit suicide, we'd take it as a kindness if you could pipe down."

Til Melarr​

 

[Til Melarr]

Til froze mid-hum, his head snapping toward the dark cell just to the left of the bug-guy. The interior lights over there were smashed to hell, but the faint red glow of the energy barrier illuminated enough pale skin and features to confirm it was a woman.

And not just any woman, a woman with a voice that, despite the deadpan delivery and complete lack of warmth, sounded like a sweet breeze compared to Bubba's rock-grinding growls down the hall. Why couldn't I have been locked up in that cell? Til thought, a sudden surge of gratitude washing over him.

Nadi personality clearly had a few miles on it and left a whole lot to be desired, but the scenery more than made up for the attitude. He immediately wet his palm, running a green hand through his dark hair to comb it back into a effortless slick. He adjusted his prison tunic, resting one shoulder casually against the energy field barrier until the static charge hummed right through his fabric.

"Obnoxiously loud? Sweetheart, people pay good credits across three different sectors to hear this vocal range," Til said, flashing her a broad, utterly unearned grin. He leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice to what he firmly believed was his most charming, smoldering tone.

"You're looking at Til Melarr. Smuggler, legendary quick-draw, and the only guy to ever break out of the high-security block on Nar Shaddaa using a spanner and a jar of pickled gundark eyes," he lied smoothly, expanding his rap sheet with practiced ease.

"I've evaded Star Destroyers, out-run Hutt enforcers, and stolen artifacts right under the nose of ancient Sith cults. So, try to keep your hands to yourself, I know meeting a galactic legend can be overwhelming, but I'll sign an autograph for you once we get out of here." he put a hand on his head to cool himself down from his sheer awesomeness. She was bound to be impressed by his exploits, and even if she wasn't she would know who he was by now.
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[Nadi]

<Ah. So an arrogant kriff who fancies himself a hotshot pilot, an irresistible lover, and a gunslinger of some sort.>

He launched into a speech regaling her with his exploits, some of which might even be true. Her eyes soaked in the nonverbal cues of his mannerisms, expressions, and motions, and her ears the subtle tone-shifting in his voice.

<And a liar to boot. But a good one.>

She let her eyebrows rise as his list of accomplishments grew longer, and a faint smile quirked her lips. He certainly had an incredibly high opinion of himself, but if he'd accomplished even half of what he was boasting he was more than enough for what she would need.

"You sound very competent. I'll remember the name."

Not a lie. She literally couldn't forget. She'd tried. And he did sound very competent.

Her legs unfolded smoothly and her feet dropped to the near-blistering floor as she stood, either ignoring or not feeling the heat. The soft padding of her steps was likely only audible to her as she walked to the front of her cell, and swept her gaze back and forth down the cell block. No guards in sight.

She closed here eyes and listened for a moment, ignoring the hum of the barriers and the noise of the other inmates, picking out the sounds of at least four guards in the station at the end of the block. Right on time for the shift change. Two of them would be leaving in a moment.

She refocused her gaze on Til, the membranes covering her eyes limiting what light made it through and making the cell block illumination that much more bearable.

"And it sounds like you've already got a plan for getting out of here."

Til Melarr​

 

[Til Melarr]

"Plan? Sweetheart, I am the plan," Til said smoothly, though his brain was frantically racing to come up with one on the spot. His eyes darted back toward his bunk. The cell's energy barriers were cheaply built to handle the prison's overflow, designed merely to shock escape attempts into compliance rather than dissolve flesh.

A solid conductor would turn a man into ash, but thick, dry padding was a different story though he wasn't counting on a miracle, just something that could hold off the charge long enough to force his way through. Til picked up the stripped, gouged-out mattress off the steel slab, holding it vertically like an oversized shield.

He carefully lined the thick foam up flush against the glowing red frame, double-checking to ensure no exposed skin would graze the forcefield. The moment the fabric made contact, the energy field hissed violently, filling the cell with loud sparks and the sharp stench of singed synthetic cotton, but the electrical current failed to breach the insulated core.

"Watch and learn, darling," Til grunted. Taking two quick steps back, he gritted his teeth and slammed his entire hundred-and-eighty-pound frame straight into the mattress, driving it forward like a battering ram. The forcefield buckled with a deafening, crackling pop, the momentum exploding Til right out of the cell.

Without his durasteel boots to catch his balance, however, his flimsy prison slippers slid straight out from under him on the hot floor grates, sending him flying forward to land flat on his face with a heavy thud. Fortunately, the charred mattress slid directly beneath him, cushioning the worst of the impact and keeping the crash quiet enough to avoid echoing down to the guard station.

Til scrambled to his feet instantly, dusting off his prison tunic as if he had planned the dive all along. Stepping off the smoking mattress, he smoothed back his dark hair, turned toward Nadi cell, and offered her a sweeping, quiet bow in the dim red light, flashing a small grin as he waited for the obvious round of applause.
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[Nadi]

<That was... bold. Stupid if it hadn't worked, but bold in the aftermath.>

"Impressive."

For a moment, she considered pushing through the field herself. The mattress had held up, so she was confident she could do it without injury, but the volume of the snapping shield at the moment of impact gave her pause. Her sound dampener had been confiscated, and she despised the idea of subjecting her ears to that level of trauma voluntarily.

She looked at the shield controls on the cells across from her. They seemed to be a fairly basic model. Linked to a control panel in the guard station, but fundamentally near the bottom of the technological complexity scale. <This shouldn't be too uncomfortable then.>

Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and focused inward, clearing her mind and reaching toward that point she knew would trigger the implant she needed. It had been a while since she'd done this with unfamiliar tech, and the raw data that flooded her mind as the implant opened itself up to new connections was nearly overwhelming.

She swayed on her feet for a moment before she got the inundation of information under control, then opened her eyes and focused on the shield control panel for her cell. A moment later, the cell barrier sputtered and died, and she very politely asked the control unit not to report that to the guard post. She stepped clear of her cell, and about three seconds later heard commotion in the guard post.

Apparently the control panel hadn't appreciated being forcefully deactivated and decided "kriff you" was the appropriate response to her request.

"Kark. The guards are coming."

Til Melarr​

 

[Til Melarr]

Til stared at the dead control panel, his mouth slightly open as Nadi simply strolled out of her cell without so much as a singed hair. His expression soured. Her method was infuriatingly more efficient than his, not to mention a whole lot cleaner. Worse still, if she could just turn off the damn forcefield with her mind or whatever trick she'd just pulled why in the galaxy had she asked him if he had a plan?

He had taken a dive onto a burning mattress for nothing. He was starting to miss Onderon, where at least he was the one blowing stuff up without a care in the world. He didn't have long to reminisce as alarms rang out across the cellblock as the control unit's spiteful countermeasure tripped the entire floor.

They were running out of time. For a fraction of a second, as Til looked down the narrow corridor, the thought crossed his mind to simply leave her behind. The guards would focus on her, allowing him to slip through the chaos and win his freedom.

But as he glanced back at her pale face, he shoved the thought aside. He had no idea what lay ahead, and he could always use a human shield to deflect a stray blaster bolt or two.

"Great trick! Next time, lead with that!" Til complained over the noise of the sirens. His eyes scanned the smoke-filled hallway for weapons, a maintenance hatch, or anything heavier than his prison slippers to throw at the incoming squad.

"Where's the nearest armory, darling?" he yelled, snatching up a heavy piece of loose iron railing off the floor. "Because if we're fighting our way to the hangar, I'd really prefer to be shooting back!"
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