Holding Cell 4-B – 05:18 Local Site Time
The door finished its slow hydraulic slide with a final, heavy *thunk*. A thin line of red emergency light from the corridor spilled across the cell floor, cutting a sharp angle between the sterile white interior and the shadowed hallway beyond.
Nu-7 Alpha team held position just outside the threshold—two operators kneeling with suppressors trained center-mass on the black-armored figure, two more standing with man-portable Scranton anchors humming at waist level. The Null Field emitter, carried by the rearmost operator, projected its distortion bubble forward like heat haze; inside it, reality felt slightly heavier, colors a fraction duller.
Captain Mira Voss stepped forward one measured pace, stopping precisely at the edge of the cell. Her visor HUD overlaid targeting data, threat assessments, Hume differentials. All three entities registered as active anomalies, but the armored one dominated every metric: red icons pulsing around his silhouette.
"This is your final opportunity," Voss stated, voice calm through the external speaker. "Lower any weapons. Kneel with hands visible. Compliance will be documented favorably."
Inside the cell, no one moved at first.
Vader's cape shifted minutely as he drew a deeper breath—*hiss-whirr*—the sound amplified in the confined space. His right hand remained at his side, fingers loose near the unlit hilt. The helmet tilted downward slightly, regarding the team the way one might study insects under glass.
Yoda remained seated on the bench, small hands resting on his cane. His eyes flicked between the newcomers and Vader, calculating without hurry.
Ahsoka rose slowly to her feet, positioning herself a half-step in front of Yoda—protective, not aggressive. Her hand hovered near her lightsaber hilt but did not grasp it.
"We are not your enemies," she said quietly, directing the words toward Voss. "But we will defend ourselves if you force this."
Voss's HUD pinged: anomalous energy signature rising from the Togruta—subtle, controlled. From the armored entity: a steady, oppressive pressure building, like atmospheric weight before a storm.
"Stand down," Voss repeated. "We have protocols. You have options. Choose the one that ends without casualties."
Vader spoke then, voice modulator carrying the words with mechanical precision.
"Your protocols are irrelevant. Your options are illusions."
He raised his left hand—slowly, deliberately. No sudden motion. Just the gesture.
The Null Field emitter whined in protest. Its distortion bubble flickered, edges fraying as though something vast was pushing back from the other side. The two kneeling operators adjusted their aim; one muttered "Anchor holding... barely" over squad comms.
In the observation post, Dr. Elena Voss gripped the console edge.
"Captain, hold position," she transmitted. "Do not engage unless directly threatened. We're getting anomalous feedback through the anchors—it's not just him. The small one is... modulating it."
On the feed, Yoda spoke softly, almost to himself.
"Anger... fear... leads to suffering. Let it go, old friend. Not yet the time."
Vader's hand paused mid-air. The pressure eased fractionally. The Null Field stabilized.
For several long seconds, silence held—broken only by the mechanical breathing and the low hum of equipment.
Then the facility trembled again. Deeper this time. Dust sifted from the ceiling seams. Somewhere down the corridor, a distant metallic screech echoed—followed by the unmistakable *pew-pew-pew* of blaster fire and Foundation return fire.
Secondary incursions intensifying.
Captain Voss keyed her comm without taking her eyes off the cell. "Bravo team, report."
"Multiple contacts, white-armored infantry. They're pushing toward the rift chamber. Suppressive fire holding, but they're disciplined—flanking maneuvers. Requesting permission to escalate."
"Negative. Contain, do not destroy. We need live subjects for assessment."
Inside the cell, Ahsoka's montrals twitched sharply at the sounds.
"Those are our people," she said, voice tight. "Clones. They're lost here. Scared. Angry. If you keep shooting—"
"We contain threats," Voss cut in. "Regardless of origin."
Vader lowered his hand. The lights steadied.
"You contain," he echoed, the word dripping with quiet contempt. "You label. You cage. You believe this makes you safe."
He took one step forward—toward the door.
Nu-7 tensed. Suppressors tracked. Anchors whined louder.
But Vader stopped at the threshold, boots inches from crossing the line.
"I have faced greater prisons than this," he said. "And broken them all."
Yoda sighed, ears drooping.
"Words, only words these are. Action, soon it comes."
The rift—still three corridors away—groaned again. Louder. The tremor rattled the cell walls.
Something massive was forcing its way through.
In the observation post, a technician's voice cracked over the internal line.
"Dr. Voss—rift expansion accelerating. Energy signature matches starship-scale. We have incoming silhouettes... large. Armed. Multiple."
Voss closed her eyes for one second.
Then opened them.
"Captain," she transmitted. "Stand by. We're going to need to talk to them. Properly."
The standoff held—fragile, temporary, inevitable in its breaking.
**End of Chapter 5**