Go along with it, and wait for an opening

Cara grimaced, but couldn’t see any alternatives that didn’t run too much of a risk. She probably should have called in her sighting of this base, she’d just not wanted to let the Imps keep at it. If nothing else she couldn’t afford to get shot until she’d alerted Greef.

The stormtrooper took a step back, gesturing with his blaster. Reluctantly, she started to move forwards.

She dug her fingers into her own scalp to give her tension some outlet. Hands on her head, she walked forwards, heading towards the door of the storage room.

The blaster nudged her, cold gunmetal against the bare skin of her lower back. Cara felt a rush of heat at that, despite herself, the sudden contact a shock to her system.

“Quicker, prisoner,” the stormtrooper said.

The doors slid open, and she was thrust out into the corridor. Cara gritted her teeth, refusing to give the Imps the satisfaction of any embarrassed reaction. Still, it was hard to keep composed as a handful of officers and troopers in the immediate vicinity suddenly turned to her.

The officers particularly lacked the subtlety of the helmeted stormtroopers – she could see exactly where they were looking, couldn’t even fool herself into thinking their eyes weren’t raking over her.

She considered herself strong – she wasn’t going to get all flustered and squealing at anything, she kept telling herself that, but charging at a line of stormtroopers took a whole other kind of bravery to marching past Imperial clerks in just her underwear. Every curve of her body, toned and fit and thick, displayed for them – the fact a few more intimate spots were technically concealed did nothing to stop the flush she felt building.

The more she tried to will the blush away, the more she thought about how exposed she was, the more she felt the eyes on her and felt the air as it fizzed and tingled against her skin. It was hard to think about much else.

She walked on, barefoot – she’d planned to change her boots as well, her stompers would hardly blend in while wearing an Imp uniform. Her legs brushed against each other with each step, her posture tense, close-together, reminding herself each time of how much of them was left bare.

The stormtrooper nudged her again. Cara grimaced, and kept on walking down the corridor, past Imp after Imp.

Focus, she told herself. She’d find an out. The trick was to wait until they felt like they’d won, then use the first moment they dropped their guard to her advantage. She wasn’t a prisoner until she believed she was.

She kept an eye out as she walked, keeping watch for any opening, anything she could use. The problem was her surroundings.

Other stormtroopers, other officers; even beyond seeing her displayed, most were armed. She had a dozen different chances to disarm the trooper behind her, but she’d just be shot in her back for her trouble.

This was what happened when she tried for stealth. Mentally, she promised that next time there were Imps to take on, she’d do it in her usual, guns-blazing style.

They came up on another door. She stiffened as the trooper pushed her up against it.

“Closer,” he said. “That’s it.”

She knew what he was trying to do – he wanted to use the keypad by the door to get through it, while wanting to keep his gun trained on her. To multi-task, he needed to keep her in view, pressing her close enough to the door that he could both stay behind her, poised to shoot, and reach the pad with his code cylinder.

Cara entertained herself imagining turning around and beating him down with his own helmet. Happy thoughts. Wait for a better chance.

The door slid open. The trooper cleared his throat, taking a step back, and jabbing her with his blaster again to make her go inside.

Cara hid her expression well – now this was promising. This was clearly the command center, the equivalent of a ship’s bridge, which meant there were plenty of control panels and chairs and officers all around. If it came to a firefight, she had cover.

“Sir! I found this intruder in storage room 17,” the trooper behind her said.

The ‘sir’ in question was a woman, an imperial officer, frame significantly more slight than Cara’s, but an expression stern enough to indicate she clearly saw herself as more imposing than Dune. She lifted an eyebrow, appraising Cara with a level of attention that reminded Cara of just how warm her blush felt.

“Quite an intruder,” the officer said. “What was she doing in the storage room?”

“Not sure, Admiral Kobri,” the stormtrooper said. “I brought her right here.”

Kobri. Cara made a mental note of the name – it didn’t mean anything to her offhand, but it never hurt to check.

The Admiral sighed, despairingly going over to a comm panel and leaning into it.

“Security team to storage room… 17 was it? Intruder seen there. Ascertain if anything has been taken or left there,” Kobri said.

Cara winced. Great, now the Imps had her clothes and blaster. And would probably find the other officer’s **** body – she suspected the only reason she’d been treated with the Imperial idea of care so far was that they didn’t know what to make of her. She didn’t look a threat, the way she was.

Which made escape more of a priority.

“What’s that?” Kobri said sharply.

Cara refocused on the present. Kobri was looking at her arm; Cara balled a hand into a fist, readying a blow.

“Rebel shock trooper,” Kobri said, seeing the band Cara had tattooed – she quickly took a step back, hand on her own blaster.

Cara tensed, readying to move. Kobri frowned.

“You found her like this?” Kobri said.

“Yes sir!” the stormtrooper said. “Marched her right here.”

“This… isn’t the uniform I’d associate with a shock trooper,” Kobri said. She rolled her eyes. “I swear, if someone brought a local girl back here and dressed her up, I’m going to channel the Moff’s idea of punishment.”

The stormtrooper fidgeted nervously.

“You. Whore. Anything to say for yourself?” Kobri said.

Cara flinched. Wait, was being considered that better or worse than being recognised as a formal rebel? Cara thought quickly.

“Yeah,” Cara said. “One thing.”

“Well speak up,” Kobri said. “What are you doing here?”

Wait for it… Cara took a second, feigning finding her words.

The comm panel crackled to life as the security team reported back, exactly as she’d planned. They were due soon enough. For a split second, the trooper, Admiral, and other station staff were all looking in the same direction.

“Admiral!”

Cara elbowed the trooper behind her, forcing his blaster to point to the side. She whirled, kicking Kobri’s blaster out of her hand in the same second, turning so she could snatch the trooper’s blaster – it fired once, going wide of her, before she wrenched it from his hand.

Then she dove for cover. She fired once behind her, and crouched behind a panel, giving her situation a quick once-over.

Well, she wasn’t a prisoner. Technically. She had one blaster, she had a panel for cover, she had her underwear, and she’d taken out one stormtrooper. That left the admiral and the four command staff she’d counted, until an alert called more Imps to the room.

Bad odds. Cara shot once around the side of the panel, retreating to cover quickly. Already she heard an alarm siren blaring.

The command station was a dead end. If she stayed there, she’d be cornered. Only possible course of action: make an escape quickly, before security arrived.

She hurried from one panel to another, taking a potshot at once of the command staff, nearing the door. Blaster fire rained past her as she hid.

“She’s trying to get out! Seal the door!” Kobri shouted.

She hated smart Imps. Cara scowled, shooting back over the panel again, but too late to avoid hearing the sound of metal grinding down. The blast doors that protected the command center were descending, poised to keep her trapped until security arrived.

She shot at the door. That was easier at least – there was no need to leave the shelter of the panel to aim at it. After a few shots, the door’s descent grew slower and noisier.

Well, that was something.

Still, inexorably it descended. Cara looked at it, and fired back at the Imps as she waited for her moment.

Part of being a shock trooper was knowing when there was only one course of action available to her. She fired to cover herself, then stood, and ran for the closing door, hoping to duck under it before she was shot.

They were just trying to stun her, she recognised those shots, but she didn’t particularly fancy being an Imp prisoner. Cara fired back a couple more times, then threw herself to the floor, hoping she’d have the precious few seconds she needed to slide under the blast door and out into the hallway.