Nope, the door opens

Sabine lunged for the grey coat just as the locker-room door hissed open. Three white helmets swiveled in unison, blasters lowering slack in their grips.

Stormtrooper 1: “WHAT THE—?!”

Stormtrooper 2: “Is that—?”

The coat swallowed her frame, sleeves dangling past her fingertips. She yanked it shut—no fasteners, no belt—just as their stares drilled into her bare thighs and collarbone. Cold air licked her shaved mound beneath the hem.

Sabine: *Cheeks burning.* “Enjoying the view, boys?”

She quickly snatched the locker’s spare SE-14r blaster. Chest fully exposed—small breasts taut, nipples prickling under their gaze.

Stormtrooper 3: “Hands u—”

*Pew! Pew!*

Two crimson bolts punched through plastoid. The troopers crumpled, smoke curling from their chest plates. The survivor backpedaled, fumbling for his comm.

Stormtrooper 3: “INTRUDER IN SEC—!”

Sabine then shot the door panel, sealing them in. She advanced, coat gaping with each step.

Sabine: “Wrong move.”

He dove for the emergency release. The door shot open—he scrambled into the corridor.

Sabine: *Growling.* “Oh, no you don’t—”

She bolted after him, clutching the flapping coat. One sleeve snagged a locker handle, nearly yanking her off-balance. Her ass flashed as she twisted free—plump cheeks flexing, purple hair whipping like a banner behind her.

Stormtrooper 3: “SHE’S NAKED! SHE’S—!”

*Pew!*

His shout died as her bolt seared his backplate. He stumbled but kept running.

She sprinted harder, coat trailing like a makeshift cape. The durasteel floor chilled her soles, each stride jostling her breasts against the coarse inner lining. Ahead, a junction glowed—floodlights spilling from an archway.

She skidded around the corner.

…Straight into a sea of white armor.

At least a hundred stormtroopers stood frozen in the cavernous barracks hall, trays of nutrient paste hovering mid-air. Every helmet swiveled toward her.

Silence.

Sabine’s grip tightened on the blaster. The coat—still open—fluttered against her thighs, doing nothing to hide her clean-shaven slit or peaked nipples.

Stormtrooper 1: *Awed.* “…Kriff.”

Stormtrooper 2: “Is that a Rebel?”

Stormtrooper 3: “She’s—!”

Sabine’s hand flew to her chest, clutching the fabric shut. Too late. A hundred eyes had already memorized every inch.

Sabine: “Son of a—!”

She ran and then climbed back into the open vent shaft, heart hammering. Hot shame crawled up her neck as distant shouts erupted behind her.

Sabine: *Teeth clenched.* “Hera’s never hearing about this.”