Owowow purple nerfs purple nerf purple nerfs.

"The fuck is Jaina?"

Harder, her head's peeling itself apart, steel wool scraping over the inside of her skull...

"Who sent you?"

"Aah! I'm- ah - on shore leave."

"To Jakku?"

"Thought you'd stay away in case the sand scratched up all your nice shiny armor."

He hums.

Keeps pushing - keeps asking a littany of questions, repeating some - it isn't just her head, the rest of her body is starting to feel like it's being torn apart -

She'll be damned before she gives these bastards an inch. They'll have to kill her.

He leaves her after a time of her refusing to bend.

A loud, rippling static noise fills the air after the door hisses shut behind him. The light brightens. The room begins to chill rapidly.

Here we fucking go...

It's not long, at least, before the door hisses open again.

(Far too long, perhaps, for how much Ellaita's head hurts.)

The static cuts out immediately, the light dims, and the room begins to warm. The boots that enter are heavier than Inkil's. A stormtrooper's, likely.

"W-who's there?" She shivers, and cracks open her eyes.

"Don't make any sudden moves." The voice is mechanical, entirely indistinct from a stormtrooper's. "You are being transported."

Her bonds loosen and then retract.

Groan. She slides gracelessly down the table, almost not catching herself.

"Transported... where?"

Gaunleted hands steady her. "Lord Inkil has demanded your presence," she says, loud and clearly, and, voice so low it won't be heard by any guards outside the room, by any monitoring systems - "I'm getting you out of here," she murmurs. "Play along."

...She tries to fight, but weakly. "Fuck off."

"Objection noted."

She pulls Ellaita into a standing position, steadies her until her head stops swimming, then gently pulls her arms behind her back, attaching cuffs.

"There's an emergency unlock here," she murmurs, moving one of Ellaita's fingers to it. "Don't use it unless you have to."

"Where are we really going," she mutters.

"Off this ship, eventually. We need to make a stop first."

"Well that's just great."

Never heard of a stormtrooper defector. First time for everything, maybe.

"Start walking," she says more loudly, drawing her blaster and pointing it not quite at Ellaita, nodding toward the door. 

"All right, all right, I'm going."

Onward, through well lit halls, past other stormtroopers - some of whom nod very slightly at the one escorting Ellaita. Their uniforms aren't marked, but there's serial numbers on them.

Ellaita's rescuer's number is FA-11326. Most of the others she seems friendly with are also FAs.

Her rescuer takes them into a side room in a deserted hall, at a gap between monitoring cameras. It seems to be a break room of some kind, a small, spartan room with uncomfortable couches, bunks clearly visible along one wall. There's another stormtrooper there - FA-76470 - who nods to Ellaita's.

-  And Ellaita's stormtrooper undos her cuffs and lets go of her, before reaching up to take her own helmet off. She's pretty. Looks about Ellaita's age, maybe a bit younger. 

"We all set, Rocket?" she asks, voice far warmer and more melodic without the helmet's filters in the way. 

"Sure," the other stormtrooper says, removing her own helmet - her face is identical to Ellaita's stormtrooper's except for a thin scar on her cheek, though her voice is rougher, like she's breathed in more smoke than is healthy. "Couldn't get extra armor, but extra blacks are easy, and no one will question too much if they see me walking to the armory with an annoyed look on my face." She turns to Ellaita - "You guessed her size right, huh."

"First Order's really just doing galactic history's greatest evil hits, huh? Are you all clones?"

"Rank and file are, but we're not all the same line - they make some noise about specialties, but it also gives them a way to do collective punishment without relying on us making friends in our units," Ellaita's stormtrooper says, shrugging. "And that dick Inkil doesn't have an original thought in his head."