You choose the tribunal

"I choose the tribunal!" you tell her determined.

But... As it turns out... This option is even worse than the other.

The cameras at the docks filmed you with the weapons. From that point you are nothing but a violent gang, it's members are to be pacified. The fact that where you come from everyone walks around with blasters doesn't help either. To them all of you are too violent.

"Do you have any closing statement?" the judge asks.

"Screw you!" you answer. At this point you are already wearing the clothes of a prisoner: A thick metal collar on your neck. A yellow catsuit that covers you body head to toe. A straitjacket that is basically the catsuit's extension, your arms forever trapped in its embrace. Six inch boots to make walking as difficult as possible. And of course two giant plugs in your openings, held in place by a zipper.

You spent months in this outfit already, and therefore you got used to it. Besides: you don't think anything you would say would lessen your sentence.

"Then I'm sorry, miss. But you are not allowed to see sunlight again," the judge says. "None of you are."

The metal hammer is slammed to the table. Then all three of your have a ballgag strapped in your mouths and your leashes are reattached to your collars. Moments later you are taken away. And you know that there is nothing that could help you.