The Birth of Rebellion

Chapter XV - The Prisoner

The stale tang of blood was a constant assault on Fenrir's senses, a sickening counterpoint to the throbbing ache behind his eyes. Each ragged breath sent a fresh wave of agony through his ribs, a testament to the electro-whips' brutal efficiency. His vision swam, one eye a swollen mess behind a crust of dried blood, the other struggling to maintain focus. Yet, defiance flickered within its depths, a spark the torture hadn't quite extinguished.

The heavy metal door hissed open, and Harkan entered. The Shocktrooper straightened, a nervous salute twitching his lips. Harkan silenced him with a curt nod, his gaze fixed on Fenrir. A long, tense silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the Mandalorian's ragged gasps.

"Well?" Harkan finally rasped, his voice tight with suppressed fury.

The Shocktrooper hesitated, avoiding Fenrir's unwavering stare. "His mind... it's like a fortress, sir. He's resisting the probe with everything he's got."

Harkan's face contorted. Images of Vader's cold fury flashed in his mind, the whispered threats of unspeakable punishment. He took a menacing step closer to Fenrir, looming over the broken warrior.

"Don't be a fool, Mandalorian," Harkan hissed, his voice barely a whisper. "You think you can defy Vader forever? He'll break you, and then, what? He'll turn his attention to your precious covert. Do you want that blood on your hands?"

Fenrir's lips remained sealed, but a flicker of something crossed his face. Was it fear? Regret? Harkan couldn't tell. His own frustration boiled over. He clenched his fists, knuckles turning white, before unleashing a flurry of blows on the Mandalorian.

"Tell me what you know!" Harkan screamed with each punch, his voice echoing off the cold, metal walls. But Fenrir remained silent, a monument of silent defiance.

The metallic clang of the door interrupted them. A Lieutenant stood on the threshold, his gaze flitting nervously between Harkan's bloody knuckles and the battered Mandalorian. "Sir," he stammered, "we've detected a freighter attempting to enter the Brakka system. The same system where we apprehended Fenrir."

A flicker of suspicion ignited in Harkan's eyes. Xon. They must be after Xon as well. A cruel smile twisted his lips. "So, the Rebels decide to join the party. Excellent."

He leaned in close to Fenrir, his voice dripping with venom. "Looks like your friends are here, Mandalorian. Perhaps they'll be more forthcoming with their information than you."

Turning back to the Lieutenant, his voice hardened like Durasteel, "Put all stations on high alert. Capture them alive. We'll see if their resolve crumbles easier than yours."

Fenrir slumped back against the cold metal wall, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he spat blood onto the floor. Alone again. The questions echoed in the sterile silence: what freighter? Rebels? Were they here for him, or Xon? Panic gnawed at him, a cold serpent slithering alongside the physical agony. He had to get out of here. His gaze darted towards the ventilation shaft high above him, a barely perceptible flicker of movement catching his eye. Was that...? Hope, a fragile ember, ignited within him. He needed a plan, and fast.