008 ─────────────── NARKINA 5

 Cassian Andor suffers in silence. 

 He has boarded the ship bound towards the planet of Narkina 5 without seeing the face of Eris Krennic one last time. Now, his hands are restrained to the seat, holding him in place uncomfortably. His shoes are laying on the floor, discarded with all the other prisoners on board. For all the crimes he's actually committed, how is it he's being sent to prison for genuinely doing nothing? It would be laughable if Cassian felt like laughing. The ride is long but Cassian thinks of anything but where he's heading. So much is on his mind. All he's left behind, and her. Eris. He has no idea where she's going—but, Cassian is willing to search the whole galaxy for her: Leda Castor they'll call her. No. He knows her. His Eris Krennic. His little ember in all this terrifying shrouded darkness.

Cassian lays his head back as their journey continues, just the constant shake of the ship and the whir of fluorescent lights above his eyes keep him steady. He feels his shoulders ache as they beg to move positions, but his hands are stuck—just another thing to add to the list of endless things making him uncomfortable. He's barefoot, he's hyperaware of how tight his pants are at the calves, and his hands can't be comfortable without being clenched into white knuckled fists—it's beginning to hurt.

Cassian screws his eyes shut to settle a feeling of discomfort—he chalks it up to being space sickness but he knows better. Homesickness. Perhaps not for a place, maybe a person.

 "Breathe deep, brother." Says a man.

 "May be the last fresh air we ever taste." Cassian widens his eyes slightly, looking to the surroundings of the prison. Ocean. Cassian huffs. The salty air blows fades away as the door closes on them—he breathes in the smell before it's entirely gone. He misses the smell as soon as it's gone.

"Welcome to Narkina 5." An authoritive voice yells, and Cassian turns to see three men, dressed identifiably in black uniforms with odd shoes. Cassian eyes them curiously. He'd never seen shoes as peculiar as that. "This is an Imperial factory facility. You've all been assessed labor worthy." The man says, eyeing all of the prisoners. Cassian shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot underneath his stare. He swallows hard. "Now, following this introduction, you'll be transferred to your level assignment and workroom, that's where your floor manager will explain the many details of our daily schedule and our precise expectations."

The man walks around, eyeing them. Like they prey, or raw meat. Cassian can't help but notice the men around him, just as shifty as he ways. Cassian looked behind him at the others, trying to examine their features—one of the men beside him nudged him before a guard could get to him. Cassian feels his throat dry. He hates how this feel. "Your length of stay has been predetermined. The quality of that time will be up to you. Now, those who've been incarcerated will be surprised by the calm, sanitary conditions, and our minimally invasive enforcement techniques. And well, I'm sure some if not all of you, are wondering how we risk standing before you without weapons? It's a potent question. Hopefully, one you won't need to have answered very often, but..."

The man clicks a button and suddenly a hot white electrical pain is coming from the floor. Cassian almost attempts to dance around the tiles but his body gives out on him—he collapses with the others on the floor. In his agony, Cassian finds the man's boots again. They hadn't faltered once at the pain, and they were on the same ground they were. He feels like rolling his eyes at their tactics—but he only writhes for a moment more. "You may stand. That was level one of three. Our floors are tunqstoid steel. Do your time productively, keep to your lane, and this needn't be more than a memory. Good luck to you."

 "On program." Orders a guard.

 Cassian practically ogles at him, wondering what the hell that could mean. "Means hands on head, eyes front, feet on the floor. Got it? Do it." He orders. Cassian slowly brings his hands to the back of his head, resting them on his wind blown hair, messy and sticky from his own sweat. In all honesty, he'd felt rather gross and grimey at the moment. The thought of a warm shower didn't sound too bad to Cassian, but it was doubtful to find that anywhere in here. The second guard to his left waved a zap rod towards him, announcing its presence to Cassian. If I have to remember it, you'll remember it. Cassian just tried to stay on program—hands on head, eyes front, and feet on the ground. Cassian listened to their conversations as he waited for whoever knows what—he didn't know what he was waiting for. He just knew there was a door in front of him and he'd likely be going through there. The guards had a chat about a guard that hadn't shown yet, and how they couldn't start without his arrival. When he did arrive, Cassian swallowed hard in unmoving anxiety.

"Prep for door!"

The door hissed as it opened, startling Cassian. "Step on the lift and stop. Move forward."

Cassian shuffled forward onto the grated lift, standing above a sterile white room filled with dozens of men dressed as himself. "New man on floor!" A voice boomed as the lift started to descend down to the floor. Everyone watched him. Cassian hated feeling their eyes on him, it made him feel sort of like an idiot—everyone in the room knew he was the rookie and surely dreaded it. Cassian moved forward as he could feel the ghost of the zap rod at his back. "This is Unit Five-Two-D." A man with silver hair informed as he walked forward to meet Cassian. He wasn't on program, Cassian took that into account. "Level five, room two, the D is for day shift. Seven levels of factory, seven rooms per level, seven tables per room, and seven men per table. My name is Kino Loy. I'm the Five-Two-D unit manager. The forty nine men in this room answer to me. Name?"

"Keef Girgo." Cassian informed. Cassian looked up as the door hissed open and shut as the guard left. "He won't be back. They only come back to pick up the dead and bring their replacements. You're mine now. Off program!" Kino demanded, and all the men dropped their hands. Cassian did it slowly, still unsure. "Back to work!" Cassian watched as all the men worked in satisfying unison like clockwork. "It's a twelve hour shift. Productivity is encouraged, evaluation is constant. You have been assigned table five, which is the pod that's behind because you're not doing your job. Can you read?"

Cassian nodded. "Yeah."

"Alright. You see in the main boxes, one through seven, those are the scores for the tables in this room on this shift." Kino stopped in the middle of the room. "What's your table number?" He asked.

Cassian almost groaned. "Five." Cassian answers.

Kino nods. "Good. There you go, table five." He directs a finger to the table. See it, at the bottom? That's you, last place. The seven tallies are the running shift tallies of all the other rooms on this shift. You okay against other tables room, I play against all the other rooms." Kino explains.

Cassian furrows his brows in confusion. "Play?"

Kino rolls his eyes. "Call it what you will. The point of this conversation is that you understand one thing most clearly." He takes a step towards Cassian. Cassian wants to shuffle backwards in fear. "I have two hundred and forty nine days left in my sentence. I have a free hand in how I run this room. I'm used to being at least top three on the level. You will wanna keep that happening, yeah? I'm sensing you understand me, Keef. Sick, injured, you talk to me. Problems with another inmate, I'll know before you do. Losing hope, your mind, keep that to yourself. Don't ever slow my line. Table five." Kino says, walking off. Cassian feels lost for a moment. He's still in a room of moving people. It's loud and Cassian feels like he's downing in a sea of prisoners. Cassian wills his body to move towards his table.

"Table five?" Asks Cassian.

"Yeah, we've been waiting. What do we call you?" A man asks.

"Keef."

The man nods. "I'm Jemboc. Welcome. That's Xaul, Taga, Ulaf, Ham, and Melshi."

Cassian gives an awkward nod. He watches as they work together, hands moving in sync. Cassian almost can't process it. He's stuck standing there watching, eyes following each of their movements. This would be his life.

 Sleep wasn't an option for Cassian.

 He sat against the wall of his cell, hugging his knees. Eris. What was she doing now? He couldn't even fathom where she was. He couldn't even make up a way to escape yet, his mind was just stuck on her. He couldn't shake it—the thought of Eris Krennic stuck in a place just like this. He hated the thought of it. Cassian hoped she wasn't in the loop of building, but he knew she probably was. Cassian looked to the floor, lined with red lights. Hot to the touch. Cassian could feel the heat from where he sat beside it. He was sort of tempted to jump on to it and just get himself out of this situation. That would only make things worse. It wouldn't lessen his sentence or reunite Cassian with Eris. So, he would suffer in silence until the morning. He couldn't even tell it was morning until the lights came on in faux daylight. He hadn't slept a wink and slowly began regretting it.

 Thirty days.

 Thirty days Cassian Andor had been here. He couldn't confirm it had been thirty days as he hadn't seen daylight or breathed fresh air but he'd counted the nights he slept and the shifts he's worked and he's fairly sure it came out to be around thirty. He's seen own reflection a few times—he's looks skinnier and pale, and the bags under his eyes are evident of restless nights. Cassian's gotten the hang the job almost as if it was instinct. His life was a loop. Eat slop, work for twelve hours, sleep. Do it all over again. It's been thirty days and Cassian is scared he's going to forget her face. He remembers her hair and her eyes, but the little things slip his mind. The curve of her lips, the little scars. It's all slipping through his fingers.

Everything is slipping.