"Deskyl had some concerns about how much independence the dragons tolerate from their vassals; she's been very reassuring on that count. And she sees a lot of potential in her; she intends to work with her once things have settled down a little, pass on some of her training."

"I can see how she'd be helpful for that!" Sakshi laughs and rubs her forehead. "And I'm delighted to hear she's looking for training now. She does have so much potential."

    "Guinevere will be lucky to have her, if she doesn't end up staying with us."

Sakshi beams, strides up to Nilam and tries to squeeze her cheek.

Nilam scoots back.

"Stooop. I'm not a kid anymore."

    "She really isn't, Ma'am."

"I suppose not. It's been so long since last I saw her. She was so small back then."

The colonials are almost all aboard the elevator. Devika lingers, and one of the Masked Legionnaires moves to correct this.

Deskyl doesn't seem inclined to allow the correction, but then glances at the colonials - much more frightened, now, and some of them looking hopefully her way - and stands down slightly, gesturing for DZ and Devika to join her in the cramped elevator.

    "Excuse us, we should stay with our captives."

"Of course." Sakshi steps aside.

(After Devika, Deskyl and DZ board there isn't remotely enough room left on the elevator for Shreya or Nilam.)

"Nilam, will you stay with Shreya while we take care of this? That way we'll be able to find you when we're done."

Nilam would rather get away from her mom.

But does she prefer that enough to argue with Deskyl and risk annoying a bunch of Masked Legionaries by holding up a prisoner transfer?

No. No she does not.

"Alright."

"C'mon. Staircase looks more fun, anyway."

And Deskyl, DZ, and Devika join Team Gamma in the elevator.

The elevator descends.

One of the troopers says: "Wow. So that was a dragon, huh?"

The trooper beside her closes her eyes and laughs bleakly.

The elevator is a plain steel cylinder with a single narrow window. Through this window, its occupants can see the stairwell corkscrewing past like the groove of a drillbit.

In the meager gravity well of the jagged dysofrag, the velocity of the descending elevator very nearly imparts weightlessness.

Deskyl and DZ remain comfortably on the floor, regardless.

(Get these guys settled, hopefully arrange for Devika to stay with her, figure out how to keep Nilam close, and then she can faceplant into a bed, thank the Force.)

Devika gives Deskyl an inquisitive look, but says nothing.

She's every inch the model prisoner.

The elevator reaches its destination, it opens.

The Masked Legionaires wait on the other side.

One of them steps up to Deskyl and asks. "Would you like to see your quarters, now?"

She looks just like the one that Deskyl left behind on the top floor, but could be someone else. Hard to tell.

The other legionaires are ushering the colonials towards a dungeon-y looking area.

    "No, Ma'am, she's going to make sure that the prisoners' conditions are acceptable, first."

"Very well."

Deskyl and DZ are permitted to follow along as the group heads deeper underground.

The walls here are rough stone. The space is well lit by rugged looking light fixtures. They pass through a pair of gates with a guard station situated between them and then onward to the prison proper.

What particular criterion of acceptability does Deskyl look for?

Conditions that aren't going to harm them, physically or psychologically, on the scale of a few weeks. Anything gratuitously unpleasant is right out. A reasonable amount of space; a reasonable amount of privacy; a reasonable amount of access to each other. Beds, chairs, space to move around in. Environmental conditions - light and temperature and so on - within reasonable parameters. Ideally, fresh clothes and food and some sort of entertainment available already, though she's not going to push on that at this point. Anything that seems to make them particularly nervous or upset will get her attention, too.

Physical Harm: Looks pretty good on this front. No torture equipment, rusted chains, or even particularly sharp edges on furniture to be found in the entire enclosure.

Psychological Harm: No problems here, except perhaps for the Really Ominous Mural painted on one wall of the common area. It depicts a person on a raised platform being messily devoured by a masked dragon (Saru, presumably)?

Privacy: Pretty much none! It's one big room with no internal partitions. One corner of the room is sloped to funnel water into a series of drainage grates, and features an overhead shower. The shower's currently on, and an existing prisoner can be seen bathing within. (She's wearing one of those black masks, but nothing else..?)

Space: It's a good amount of space for the number of prisoners it's meant to house, but unfortunately the recent influx of POWs looks likely to push it slightly over capacity. There would still be space enough for everyone, but it'd be a little cramped and a couple of people would either have to share bunks or sleep on the furniture in the common area.

Environment: Bright, balmy, well ventilated.

Amenities: There's a tamper-proof widescreen entertainment interface set into one wall, and each bunk has a towel and a plain robe laid out on it. The other preexisting prisoner, an unmasked vassal wearing one of the prison robes, is seated in front of the entertainment interface watching a cartoon. As for nourishment? There's no kitchen, but there's a table in one corner with a conveyor belt and wall slots positioned in a way that could very plausibly constitute a food delivery mechanism of some sort.

The lack of privacy connects to the Legion's... thing... in a fairly obvious way, and everything else looks good, considering. It seems pretty likely that she can arrange for them to have a screen for the shower, and maybe to take groups out for walks if she plays her cards right. Assuming they don't seem too stressed about it, this works for now.

    DZ addresses their (new?) guide. "How inconvenient will it be to arrange to keep the pilot with us?"

The colonials don't seem too stressed about this arrangement.

One of them even mumbles something about expecting worse, and a couple other troopers vocalize agreement with that sentiment.