As Ishtar stepped off the battleship and onto the barren surface of X-542, a scowl nearly surfaced on her stoic visage. The oppressive heat and the barren landscape made her feel as if she had just stepped into a furnace. She glanced around at the other prisoners, some of whom were already sweating profusely.
She looked around at the rocky, rough land and the prison complex in the distance, knowing that this was to be her home for the foreseeable future. The flames of hope in her heart only burning brighter, She would–
"Ugh, what a shithole,"
"So it seems."
A gruff, hoarse voice, accompanied by a haughty and conceited one broke her inner self-motivation.
And as they were herded towards the complex in the distance, she scanned the inmates, identifying the second voice to be a Kalui—the only one—who was walking with his nose thrust high in the air.
And for the first, her gaze eventually met that of a Lionfolk Feline whose hair was more dreadlocks than mane, and wore an eye patch, having only one golden eye that seemed to always be glaring at the world.
The Feline, strangely pleased at getting her attention, broke out of the line and enthusiastically moved to her side.
Disregarding the presence of the wardens as they trudged on the cracked ground, she pestered Ishtar continuously.
"—Dontcha think so too?"
"—At least it's better than the Fringes."
"—Hey Princess. They said you killed your pops? 'zit true?"
The wardens had attempted to restrain her but were stopped by the Captain. It seemed she had a somewhat special Identity.
Through the distance that they walked towards the complex, the words entered Ishtar's left ear and came out from her right, but the Lionfolk didn't seem annoyed at her ignorance.
And although Ishtar could sense that the gait with which the Feline carried herself was that of a wary warrior, and despite her laid-back attitude, the aura oozing out with her every step told Ishtar she was a powerful individual.
But she was more concerned with her parched throat and the oppressive heat.
The air had little to no moisture, and it was dry and thin in oxygen. Her clothes clung to her skin with each step as sweat accumulated underneath, and the heat of the sun nearly penetrated her skin, giving her the illusion of being cooked slowly.
A line of perspiration trailed down her slender neck, and glinted in the rays of the red sun as she looked up at the sky that epitomized the planet's desolation.
It's constant orange hue was due to the planet's location in the outer rim of the galaxy.
The inmates were escorted to the complex by a group of heavily armed guards, their chains clinking with every step they took, and a particularly talkative Lionfolk.
As she walked, Ishtar couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. She had heard stories about X-542, about the harsh conditions and the prisoners who were worked to death. She knew that her chances of survival were slim.
But Ishtar refused to give up. She had always been a survivor, and she wasn't about to let a little thing like being a convicted criminal on a prison planet get in her way. She would find a way to escape, get close to the Imperial Princess, and complete the mission.
They reached the sixteen metre high, electrified fence, which buzzed opened after the Captain scanned his palm, then had a retina scan.
Ishtar noted that the ground inside the prison was just as rocky and barren as beyond the fence, with the only vegetation being a few scraggly bushes that somehow managed to survive in the harsh conditions.
She was nudged out of her observation by the warden behind her, this time a grey-skinned Orc. And she plodded behind the prisoners in front, where a large percentage of them seemed to have been strangely hunched, perhaps from the weight of despair and hopelessness.
"Whoa... it brings back memories."
Well, except for a certain inmate. And out of curiosity, as they walked into the first of the sprawling complex of buildings, another of the inmates, a short, growth-deformed Namekian asked.
"You've been here before?" The disbelief in his voice was undisguised, no prisoner had been recorded to leave X-542 alive.
In response, she faintly murmured, her voice turning somber for the first time.
"No... Somewhere else... Somewhere far worse."
And just when they were about to ask about where else could possibly be worse than X-542, a bang brought their attention back to the room they were in.
It was an office nearly empty, save for a giant locker, a metal table—the source of the bang—and a corresponding metal chair where an elderly and grizzled figure sat, one whose sleep had obviously been disturbed, and was still attempting to doze off.
He was an old and wiry Catfolk Feline, his cat ears sagging and his gaunt and scrawny body looking like a cloth rack for his oversized warden uniform.
The Captain stood arms akimbo and boomed,"Old Conny. Wake up! Got a new batch here!"
"Dammit. Can't someone have a good rest here?!"
The Captain scoffed.
"X-542's a hellhole, not your momma's bosoms."
Old Conny, sat up reluctantly and had his face scrunched up in annoyance. With a grumbled "Let's get on with it", he waved them over and opened the locker, by his side, and the contents were visible to everyone, prisoner uniforms, as they were all wearing the dresses they had on when arrested.
He extended his hand under the table and it emerged holding a Bar-Code Gun.
In a single file, the 30 or so brand new inmates, received the uniform and got their TS-Collars branded with a Bar code and Serial number.
The Lionfolk was unusually meek, and seemed to be absorbed in her thoughts, so it went smoothly.
Ishtar was the last in line, and when her turn came, Old Conny gave her a Cheshire grin. His eyes gleaming with what seemed to be surprise. Immense surprise, bordering on disbelief. But why so? Wasn't she expected to be among the new batch? Was she expected not to make it to X-542?
Wait... If he thought so, there was a possibility he was aware of her poisoning.
There was something bigger at play, and things were getting more complicated.
It must have been an illusion, but the atmospheric temperature seemed to take a steep dive lower.
"The Ice Princess eh?"
"Mmm." She coldly replied, her naturally frigid voice even more bone-chilling.
Nearly everyone flinched, and the Captain and instinctively interceded before the rambling old man delayed the procedures.
"She's no fun Old Conny, just do your job."
He had expected the him not to heed his words like the usual, but Old Conny harrumphed in annoyance and raised the Bar-Code gun to her TS-Collar.
The Captain at first thought he took a step down because he too felt what they all felt, but when he saw the glint in Old Conny's eyes, he let his guard up, he knew this geezer was up to no good.
The gun released a laser beam that hit the collar, and when the the gun was turned off, she saw the glowing serial number and bar code.
After her numbering, he removed the prisoner uniform from the locker and gave it to her.
It was a simple overalls, which was a dingy grey color and smelled of sweat and desperation.
Her disgust wasn't exposed in any way, but this scrawny Feline was strangely perceptive.
"This ain't the palace Princess. It's prison."
She glanced at him and saw that his grin widened, nearly extending to to his ears. There was something off about him, it was somehow strange.
It wasn't that he had any strange aura, the bizarre part was that he didn't seem to have any aura at all. He was just like any normal non-Transcedent entity. And that was very wrong, as all the guards she'd met so far had auras that indicated by they were Transcendent.
And it was even expected considering the level of criminals brought to this penal colony.
Her memories were evoked for a split second, but it left her clutches without leaving any clues, except some sort of familiarity.
With the grey overalls in her arms, she turned around and walked to meet her fellow inmates. Just as she was about to step out, her instincts made her turn around and was just in time to hear important information from Old Conny.
"The Chief Warden's left yesterday, he seemed to have important business."
The Captain's eyes flashed with confusion that he quickly hid, and acted as naturally as possible.
"Huh? He did? More freedom for us then."
Ishtar missed none of his gestures, and just before she walked out, she glanced at the old Feline that had returned to lying face down on the table. Her instincts told her he was observing her reaction, something she brushed off as soon as it came to her head.
From the lack of aura, she knew that the only other option of not non-Transcedent was that he had completely withdrawn it, and only 9th rank and Zenith-ranked Transcendents had such fine control.
Unless he wasn't just an old officer...
She abruptly paused in her steps as though enlightened. She had realized what was off about him. He was-
"Hey! Move it!"
With a shove from the Orc warden, she continued walking, her eyes flashing with unknown intentions.
They were led through the utilitarian buildings and reached the main building that was as quiet as the surroundings.
The buildings were all ancient looking and showed obvious signs of wear and negligence.
They were assaulted with noise of a variety when they stepped in, but the surroundings quietened with their presence, as though the previous noise was an illusion, and they felt a multitude of gazes on them. The owners of the gazes were the thousands of inmates watching them.
A path was automatically made for the Captain out of the crowd. And all of the new inmates, including the talkative Lionfolk, crumpled and hunched even more from the pressure of being observed, all but one. Ishtar.
Even with the gazes that were filled with mockery, she walked ramrod straight. She was the Ice Princess, Ishtar El-din Khoningrad, and nothing was changing that. Not even her criminal status.
When they reached the end of the hall. The noise resumed, and the gazes left them as though they weren't being watched in the first place.
They walked through intersecting passageways and came upon the cells.
The floors were made of cold, hard metal, and the walls were lined with hercunium, the main ore that X-542 was known for.
This was where every new prisoner was separated and each led to respective cells by the wardens.
The cells were small, cramped, and lacked any form of comfort.
Ishtar's cell contained nothing more than a metal bed, a toilet, and a sink. She knew that she would have to get used to this new way of living if she hoped to survive her sentence on X-542.
She inwardly scoffed. Who was she kidding? She'd die very early if she thought she'd wait for the sentence to end.
A sentence of eighty years. That was the verdict of the Justicier that the Royal Court had requested from the Empire.
And moreover, from the Gathering the Empire had with it's Colonies two years ago, it was visible that the conflict between the First Prince and the Princess of the Osiris Imperial Family had intensified.
The battle for the Gateway Throne would have already started if it wasn't already halfway in.
She had to plan her 'escape' very soon, or her mission would fail before it even started.
She walked to the bed and took off her dress, reluctantly changing into the prison overalls.
Her repulsion increased as the rough fabric rubbed against her skin and the disgusting smell of whoever once wore the overall invaded her nostrils, but she endured, knowing it was for the time being.
She picked up her tattered dress, and bundled it up. It still had some use. Because X-542 was said to have nights as cold as the days were hot.
She laid on the bed and closed her eyes. The fatigue had caught up with her. Her body was really weak, so she slept through the day into the night.
At about 3am, when sleep was the deepest, she and the rest of the new inmates were rudely awakened to the blaring of sirens and the shouts of a warden.
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Trivia:
In the Osiris Empire, according to the Royal's Scribe's 89th Imperial Census, it's recorded that there are about approximately 235 races, excluding the Five Major Races namely:The Kalui, the Orcs, the Beastkin, the Namekians, and the Humans.
This record though, is prone to corrections, as there are races abounding in the Fringes and those under the Allied Rebel Forces, which are unfortunately unnaccounted for.
