To the cell

Through the corridors of the once-magnificent Battle Dragon capital ship they escort her. Faded emblems and cracked screens abound, bulkheads scuffed and warped by probably a century or more of ****. The vessel is in formidable working order, no mistake, but even the Hapan fixation on beauty cannot defeat the ravages of time. Despite their efforts, they are a crippled civilization like the rest, clinging to pretenses of wealth and glory.

"Here," one of her captors intones simply as a cell door rushes open to accept her. "You are permitted the rights of any prisoner of the Hapan throne. See the panel on your left to alert a member of the Royal Guard or file legal statements."

With that, the young trader is alone.

Thrumming through the hull, she can hear the spooling of the hyperdrive, as he is left to idly wonder what fate awaits at Hapes.