Imperial

Noth never had a chance. Noth was on the edge of imperial space. It was strategically valuable, close to several resource-rich, habitable systems. It was , with out of date orbital defenses and a navy whose most powerful vessels were weaker than a standard imperial frigate. Anyone could see that it would be conquered. Many who could afford to leave did. You wish you could say you knew it too, that the only reason you didn't leave was because you couldn't afford to. Granted, you couldn't afford to. It wouldn't have made a difference if you had admitted to yourself what was obviously coming for you, but you didn't even manage that much. Along with countless others, you pretended that the empire might not attack, or that there would be warning before it did, and enough time to leave, or that your rulers would be wise enough to surrender, to bend the knee to the Bejeweled Throne and its Emperor, allowing you to become a citizen of the Empire.

The Empire did attack. There was no warning. You woke up expecting an ordinary day, and were on your way to work when the began. By the time you knew you needed to leave, there were already a dozen carrier-cruisers and a hundred other battleships ready to shoot you down if you tried. As for your rulers, when the Imperial admiral leading the invasion requested Noth's surrender, they spit in his face, and as punishment for that hubris, millions, a whole planet, would be enslaved.

Maybe you can't judge them. You didn't surrender either, when the soldiers got to you. Granted, you weren't stupid enough to try to fight them, much less spit at them. You knew you were just an unarmed Nothian peasant running through the street, panicking alongside a thousand other idiots, with nothing that could breach the power armor of Imperial Marines. But still, you didn't kneel and go quietly like a good little boy who knew his place. You ran. You ran as fast and as hard as you could, and in running, you won yourself several more seconds of freedom before they stunned you and dragged you back.

Perhaps you shouldn't have run. Perhaps you should have knelt and gone quietly like a good little boy who knew his place. Perhaps if you had done that, they would favor you. Perhaps you would win some kind of kindness. Some kind of mercy.

But perhaps there are better things to chase than their favor. Perhaps if you hadn't tried to run, if you had truly chosen this, surrendered to this fate of your own free will, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself. At least now, now that they had to stun you and drag you here, you're a victim. There are worse things to be than a victim. Like a coward. Or a traitor.

That's probably how dad felt. He probably did fight back. He probably grabbed a crowbar and slammed it against Imperial Power Armor until they had to put him down. That's probably what happened, but you don't know. You don't know what happened to your parents, or your brother, or your sister. You were on your own when the invasion started, and you never made it back to them.

So, here you are, being taken, on a large bus filled with your fellow condemned. You're to understand they refitted the nearest high school, the same one you graduated from mere months ago, to serve as one of their prison camps, where you'll be stored until someone wins the online auction for you. There's a perverse familiarity about travelling to that building on a crowded bus of fellow prisoners, all dreading the time you will spend there. You were never on a school bus quite this crowded, though, and there never used to be seven Imperial soldiers with automatic weapons, ready to slaughter everyone inside if it came to it. What's more, as unwilling as you may have been to go there, this is the first time you've traveled to school in shackles.

All along the journey, Noth's setting red sun makes the planet's all-pervading carpet of snow dance with color. It's a beautiful sight, but one you have always taken for granted. One you have always had whenever you wanted it. How many days until you never see it again?

"Why are they taking us to the school?" another prisoner whispers to a friend.

"They have to use a building that already exists," the friend replies. "They can't build a new prison camp in twelve hours. Some other people are being taken to the prison just out of town."

"Mot gilatek!" a guard says, directly at the people speaking. Neither you nor they can understand him, but his tone is enough to shut them up. You don't know the imperial language. Noth is a frozen backwater, but you've gotten along knowing only Nothian for your whole life. That's probably going to change soon. It'll have to, if you're going to survive this. Not being able to understand your master's orders would be such a stupid way to die.

You arrive at the school. A massive fence, topped with inward-facing barbed wire, has been erected around it. There are several other busses in the parking lot when you arrive. Some prisoners have already been brought here, it seems. The bus stops. The soldier at the front of the bus, a particularly intimidating fellow in white power armor, speaks. "Sekhat!" he says, to the girl at the front of the bus, gesturing toward the door with his weapon. They know you can't understand them. Perhaps the gesture is the real command, and the word is just a reflex, an act they take out of habit. Or perhaps they hope for you to pick up on what their commands mean, though whether 'sekhat' means 'stand,' or 'exit' isn't clear from this interaction. The poor girl is too frightened to do either until the soldier pulls her up by the forearm and pushes her toward the door. That's enough to explain it to the rest of you. You're led off the bus, one by one. When a soldier finally gets to you, you stand the moment he commands it, and leave.

The sunset has ended. Nothians usually know better than to go outside at night. The day is already too cold. These soldiers in their high-tech armor don't mind, but you're not so fortunate. The cold bites through your coat, your clothes, your underclothes, and smallclothes and into your skin. Its teeth are driven deeper by the wind, You can only hope the soldiers can unload you quickly so you can go inside.

Something moves. Someone is making a break for it. A boy around your age. His flight draws every eye, and soldier alike, and two of the soldiers run after him, their guns drawn. "Nok!" they shout. "Nok! Nok!"

This person is an idiot. The imprudence, the hubris of thinking you could get away, much less do so now, surrounded by soldiers and so close to a prison camp full of countless more.

Of course, while they're all distracted, you might have the best opportunity you'll ever get to do the same. It will probably fail. But once you go inside those gates, there may be even less hope, and even if you fail, at least you'll have tried. At least you won't have willingly entered the gates. At least someday, maybe someday soon, you'll get to tell the gods that no matter what the Empire did to you, you never let yourself be a .