Star Wars: Spirit of Survival #Watty's2017

Chapter Eight-Old Friends, New Home

Aboard the ship, Tarkin

19 years B.B.Y.

Spirit looked down at his feet, shifting quietly. The room was mostly quiet, with the exception of one or two of the slaves that liked to chat. Spirit tried to stay away from conversation. Talking got you in trouble, and he wanted to be good. He heard the door to the hold clang open and he bowed his head more as the guards began stalking through the group, grabbing up whichever slaves they were taking to sell that day. Every time, Spirit anticipated the rough grab and being dragged to the door, but they never took him. He was beginning to think he wasn't good enough anymore. Maybe he was too thin, or maybe he had unknowingly done something wrong. He knew what would happen if they never took him, he'd end up with the others, sent to work in mines, or worse, sent back to Kamino.

He felt the guard step past him and a sudden desperation filled his chest. He lunged forward and caught hold of the guards pants leg, falling hard onto his chest. He felt the guard whirl around as he put his head down quickly.

"Get off me!" the guard barked and Spirit let go but stayed where he was.

"P-Please m-master, I w-want to go w-with he others," he pleaded. "I-I w-want to g-go with t-the others..."

He kept his head down low, daring not get up as he begged at the guard's feet. He waited for a yell, a response, or reply but his only answer was a cruel laugh, followed by a swift kick to the ribs. Spirit groaned with pain and fell limp, curling back up and covering his head with his hands. He should've known better, he was probably already marked for death. Best now just to curl up and accept it, because he knew he didn't get to decide anymore.

A few hours passed and they brought food for dinner. It was all just scraps, and usually, only a small group of them got to eat. Spirit managed to grab a crust and eat that but he stayed at the back like normal. He had a small hope that maybe, if he was extremely good, the guards would change their minds about him, but he'd have to leave that up to them. They were the masters.

He slept a little that night, trying to ignore the sounds of either crying or snoring as he kept to his own little corner. He didn't have a blanket, but he knew that if he wasn't given one he didn't need it, so he slept with his arms crossed for a pillow and what was left of his he clothes he had as his source of warmth in the icy cold corner.

Thankfully, after only a few long hours, the morning lights came on and Spirit got up to grab breakfast and retreat back to his corner. He struggled with walking a little, ever since the guards had bruised up his legs back from when he tried getting out, almost a year ago. He couldn't blame them now, though, he had been bad back then, but he was trying to be good now.

After breakfast the guards came back in, a different set of guards for a new set of slaves. This time, Spirit wasn't expecting to join the group when he was suddenly grabbed roughly by the arm and hauled up onto his feet. He stumbled and the guard slammed his inert shock stick across his shoulders. Yelping internally, Spirit straightened up and put his head down, careful not to stumbled as he was pulled towards a group of others waiting in the hall. He felt them clamp the durasteel chains around his wrists and ankles and the shock collar around his neck but he did nothing. He wanted to be good so that maybe someone would buy him, let him work.

The guard in front motioned the group forward and with Stumbling steps, hindered by the chains, Spirit tried to keep pace behind the zabrack in front of him. They were taken through the streets, down to what looked like an animal pen and herded in there. The chains were removed and replaced with shock cuffs, and a perimeter of guards as they were once again allowed to roam freely.