Chapter 3

The technician walked briskly down a long corridor of the Prison, her white lab coat practically glowing in the dim light. Flanking her were two guards, their black Exoskeleton Combat Suits sleek and dark, moulded to well-muscled figures. Their helmets prevented her from seeing their faces, making them look exceptionally intimidating.

They exuded an air of professionalism, Laspistols securely holstered on their hips. It had been centuries since they had last had any problems from the stasis ward, and they meant to keep that streak going for years to come.

She checked her hand terminal and confirmed that the next prisoner was due for release shortly. The Prison was restricted from the rest of the Imperial Net, a closed-circuit system requirement that prevented implants or holos from uploading information. It necessitated clumsy but secure handheld devices with display screens.

Tapping her finger on the flashing button that indicated a stasis field deactivating, she read the name out loud.

"Kalen Caledon, 500 years." She whispered, her subdued voice barely reaching the guards behind her. Skipping over the details of his crimes, she focused on the duration. Five centuries would wreak havoc on a prisoner's mind, rendering them confused and disoriented. In some of the more extreme cases she had seen, the person had forgotten who they were, leading to a need for years of rehabilitation.

It may seem extreme to some, but she had seen the statistics for recidivism. It was low, and when combined with the inevitable memory loss and intensive rehabilitation, extremely effective at deterring crime. Turning to the guards behind her, she spoke in a louder tone.

"The next one is coming off 500 years. The prisoner may need to be carried out. Call for a gurney." She advised. One guard nodded, speaking into his helmet communicator, requesting the required equipment, while the other guard chuckled.

"A Scatty, always good for a laugh." The guard joked. The technician frowned at the slang. 'Scatty' was what many of her colleagues named the ones that came off long-term stasis. Short for 'Scatterbrained,' they were addled-minded, too far gone to stand without assistance. It would typically take years before they were capable of rejoining society.

"Gurney is on its way." The other guard confirmed. With a nod, the technician led the way to the cell, the door opening automatically after confirming her and the guards' presence. Entering the room, she was surprised by its occupant.

The man was standing, his eyes open and alert. He appeared to be doing a series of simple stretches, his muscles stiff after prolonged inactivity. It was a side effect of long-term stasis. Even if the body didn't age, it still remembered its captivity.

Kalen Caledon was tall, nearly seven feet, with long black hair and piercing blue eyes. Naked, his body was slim but well-muscled and perfectly proportioned. He was slightly tanned, healthy looking and one of the most handsome men the technician had ever seen.

The technician stopped abruptly, causing the guard behind her to nearly bump into her back. She couldn't help herself, so startled was she by the man in front of her that her task was driven from her mind.

He was physically perfect, a prominent example of genetic manipulation and hereditary traits that could only be obtained through generations of selective breeding and costly genome therapy.

The only way that was possible would be if he were a…

"Noble." The technician whispered, her eyes wide. She cursed herself for a fool! From her nervous fingers, she dropped the Datapad onto the floor. The hardy device didn't suffer a scratch, but she was too flustered to care.

She hadn't done more than skim the prisoner profile. She was so accustomed to dealing with criminals that their information blended together.

She was too young to have been alive for a trial of a noble, but she had heard of it. Everyone in the Empire knew of it. How could she not have recognized the name?! Caledon was a wasteland now, only a mere shadow of its former glory, but it had been a colossal Duchy before the Rebellion.

She began to shake with nervousness, not prepared to be in the presence of a noble. The technician's mind went blank, simply staring at Kal.

Nobles held the life and death of commoners in the palm of their hands. Not just physically, although their enhancements put them in an entirely different league from those around them.

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It was the law that allowed them to determine her fate. Nobles, even this one who had just come out of stasis, could only be tried by the Emperor himself!

Offending a member of the Nobility was to look death in the eye and spit in it. Thankfully, they were bound by traditions and devotion to the Emperor. She had only heard stories of Nobles acting against the virtues extolled by the ruler of humanity. But that fear remained.

Kal straightened from his stretches as the white-coated technician entered his cell. The machine that generated the stasis field, and had elevated his body from the floor, made faint 'ticking' noises as it cooled, its presence a constant reminder of his imprisonment.

Hearing her exclamation, he smiled, flashing perfect, pearly white teeth at her, hoping to put the woman at ease. It wasn't easy. He hadn't smiled or spoken to another human in centuries except in his memory.

Watching her gaze as it drifted lower, he was suddenly aware of his lack of clothing. After five hundred years of isolation, he couldn't care less what she saw. He was merely eager to be away from here. Kal would run naked through the corridors of this place if it got him to a ship faster.

"You’re here to show me the exit?” Kal asked.

His voice drew the woman’s attention back to his face, and she blushed deeply. Behind her, the guards shuffled nervously. Kal was a prisoner but devotion to the Nobility, and the Emperor they represented, had been ingrained into their psyches.

“Mi..” The technician began before coughing and clearing her throat. Her tone fell back onto the comfort of formality, taking a ‘business as usual’ approach as she started her sentence again.

“Milord. We’re here to escort you to a medical examination. You’ve been in stasis for 500 years. Per your sentence, you will be released, pending a physical and psychological assessment.” She stated, about to type into her Datapad, when she realized it was still on the floor.

Blushing, the young woman bent over to retrieve the device, turning scarlet red once her eyes inadvertently landed on Kal’s body once more as she straightened. Flustered, she quickly typed a request for medical to prepare.

“There’s no need. I’m in excellent condition. Prepare a transport ship to bring me back to Caledon. I’ve been away too long.” Kal said, the last part barely a whisper as he frowned, thinking of what his absence had done to his planet.

“I must insist, Baron Caledon. Please, follow us.” The technician said, a hint of pleading in her voice as she gestured to the doorway behind them.

Kal head jerked to the side at hearing the title of ‘Baron.’ It felt wrong, a reminder of his family’s sin. But he accepted it, taking on the title as a penance for his failure. Deep inside, his resolve to restore what was lost grew even more potent.

Kal paused, considering his options for a moment, before nodding. It would likely take them time to arrange his transport, and if he fought against their assessments, it could delay things. He would go along with the exams, hoping to expedite the process.

For the next few hours, he was poked and prodded, forced through various tests by a team of doctors. Because of his status, the prison staff weren’t taking any chances with his health. The last thing they would ever want is to be the people blamed if a Noble left their care in ill health. They assigned their best physicians to examine him.

Thankfully, Kal was eventually clothed, wearing a simple, grey long-sleeved shirt and soft, black pants. Feeling like a human once more and not a lab rat, he had a long discussion with the prison psychologist, who deemed him reasonably sane and ready to rejoin society.

It was something of a miracle, considering even the hardiest of inmates usually required months of rehabilitation after leaving stasis.

Kal attributed it to his desire to get to work rebuilding what was lost and his resolve to right the wrongs his father had committed. Regardless of the reason, less than 6 hours after awakening, Kal was being led to the spaceship hanger by two guards, who respectfully maintained their distance.

The Prison was a space station, hanging in the darkness of the void between stars, the coordinates of its location hidden from even the Imperial Net, preventing rescue attempts for the inmates. Kal recalled leaving Terra by starship, but with the Engine, it could be located anywhere in the galaxy after a single jump.

The interior of the Prison lacked viewports, something he had noticed on his arrival, further obscuring it from being located. The hangar was small, barely large enough to house the two-person transport vessel to take him to the Starship, waiting safely at a distance from the Prison.

The transport was only large enough to hold the pilot and a single prisoner. Square and squat looking, its thrusters appeared capable of only short trips, another security measure. It was old and outdated.

The repairs and replacement parts were apparent as several panels were discoloured. It was clear that it had seen many years of service, its only purpose being to ferry inmates the short distance to the starship’s hold.

Leaving his guards behind, Kal climbed into the vessel's rear, ducking low to avoid the ceiling. Strapping into the single chair, he waited patiently for takeoff, the hum of the Ship’s systems providing comforting background noise.

In moments, they were leaving, the artificial gravity of the Prison retreating. Kal’s stomach lurched as he felt the unfamiliar feeling of weightlessness. He hadn’t spent much time in space beside a few short trips to some of the more essential planets under his family’s rule when he was younger. Once the Rebellion had started, it was too dangerous for the Heir to be off the planet, restricting him to Caledon.

After a short acceleration, the thrusters pushed him back into his seat. A few minutes of silent movement let him know they were travelling before he was pressed forward slightly, straining against his seatbelt.

With a soft, jarring motion, they landed on the starship that would carry him back to Caledon.