She'd been with the Imperial for a year. Captured by a star destroyer somewhere near Naboo, she'd been a wealthy woman once. A trader, sometimes an escort, whatever let her live a good life on whatever world she came across, always one step ahead of the force of nature that was the Imperial Navy.<br/>Alas, she'd been captured. Stripped of wealth, title, even her name-- at least officially. Ji'Nisa was what she still called herself. the man threatening her with a pistol just called her 'slave' or 'my dear' or 'girl'. She'd done his bidding since the day he 'spared' her from exile in a labor camp, all for the crime of not being human. She'd wished for death more than once. Her spirit had been broken.<br/><br/>She didn't look at him, didn't respond with anything else but a shiver as she curled up in the co-pilot's seat. Her hands were bound across her chest to a collar of durasteel around her neck. That was how he liked to 'carry' her. She could still see out the viewport. This wasn't his usual haunt. Then again, this used to be one of the Old Republic's most glamorous, most welcoming of worlds, especially to her kind. Now, it was rubble. She's heard about the Death Star, and, along with her master, heard of its destruction at Yavin. Her heart soared that day, and it was a glimmer of hope she clung to like a mynock to a power coupling.