Work Text:
The prison alarm has been sounding for seven minutes.
Not just the breach alarm nor the riot alarm or even the medical emergency alarm.
The system is currently cycling through all three because nobody programmed a specific alert for forty-three loth-cats seizing control of a Republic detention facility.
Ghost stands in the central security hub and watches one of them drag Stone's access card beneath a sealed blast door. Stone stands beside her without his helmet, hair disordered and expression carved from pure humiliation.
“How?” Ghost asks.
“I don’t know.”
“You had the card attached to your belt.”
“I know.”
“The belt is still attached to you.”
“I know.”
On the security feed, the loth-cat drops the access card beside three others. A smaller cat bats one through the gap beneath the door. Something on the opposite side catches it.
The lock flashes green.
The door opens.
Sixteen loth-cats pour through.
Stone closes his eyes.
“They’re coordinating,” he said, sounding genuinely distressed.
Ghost touches her comm.
“All units, containment door Aurek-Seven has been compromised. Redirect the east corridor team.”
A burst of static answers her.
Then Soups’s voice emerges.
“Can’t! They’ve got us pinned down!”
Ghost looks at the feed for the east corridor.
Soups and four Guardsmen stand on top of a supply cart while nine loth-cats circle beneath them. One has Soups’s glove in its mouth. Another is wearing a ration wrapper around its neck like a medal.
“They weigh eight kilograms,” Ghost says.
“They’ve got claws!”
“You’re wearing armor!”
“They know where the gaps are!”
One of the cats launches itself at Soups’s shin.
He screams and nearly falls off the cart.
Ghost ends the transmission.
“This is his fault.”
Stone folds his arms.
“He said training them would improve pest control.”
“They are the pests.”
“He was referring to conduit rats.”
Ghost watches another cat climb the wall using an exposed cable bundle.
It reaches a ventilation grille, hooks both front paws into the slats, and pulls.
The grille falls.
The cat disappears into the duct.
“Wonderful,” she says. “They’ve entered the ventilation system.”
Stone checks the facility map.
“They already had access through maintenance.”
“Why?”
“The prison was built before anyone decided walls should connect to ceilings.”
A crash sounds from the lower cell block.
Ghost switches feeds.
Two inmates are pushing a table against a doorway while a third waves a blanket at a cluster of loth-cats.
“Back!” the inmate shouts. “Back, you little demons!”
A pale cat vaults over the table and lands on his shoulder.
The man runs screaming down the corridor.
Another inmate looks directly into the security camera.
“We’d like reduced sentences for this!”
Stone activates the intercom.
“Help restore containment, and I’ll consider work credits.”
“Full day for every cat!”
“Half.”
“They bite!”
“Three quarters.”
The inmate glances behind him as another furry wave enters the block.
“Deal!”
Ghost turns away from the feed.
“This is officially a riot.”
“The inmates are on our side.”
“A cooperative riot.”
Stone nods. “Progress.”
The doors to the security hub open.
Thire enters carrying caf.
He is not wearing a helmet. He is not carrying containment equipment. He is not even behaving like a commander whose headquarters currently resembles an animal shelter during a bombing.
He takes in Ghost, Stone, the alarms, and the security display showing Soups being held hostage by creatures he personally trained.
Then he smiles. The sheer audacity!
Ghost points at him.
“Hey, Thire, do ya wanna help us?”
Thire takes a slow drink.
“Oh, I would... but I don’t want to.”
Ghost briefly considers strangling the kriffing shabuir! Stone turns toward him.
Thire strolls to the primary console and leans against it, safely outside clawing range.
Ghost’s left eye twitches.
“Thorn is recovering.”
“I’m aware.”
“Fox is off planet.”
“I’m also aware.”
“We are down two senior commanders.”
“You’re Fox’s favorite. I assumed you’d enjoy the responsibility.”
“I’m his favorite because I solve problems.”
“Then solve this one.”
A loth-cat drops from an overhead conduit and lands on Thire’s shoulder.
Nobody moves.
Thire slowly turns his head.
The cat looks at him.
He reaches into his pocket, removes a small piece of dried meat, and offers it.
The cat takes the meat, jumps onto the console, and sits beside his caf.
Ghost stares.
“You had food.”
“I have foresight.”
“You knew this would happen?”
“I knew Soups was training loth-cats.”
“That isn’t the same thing!”
“It is when Soups is involved.”
Stone approaches the console.
“Why didn’t you warn anyone?”
“I did. Fox said Soups had submitted the proper animal-handling forms.”
Ghost looks at Stone.
Stone looks at Ghost.
Fox had reviewed paperwork and concluded the situation was under control.
Fox is currently off planet marrying Senator Chuchi while his headquarters is being conquered by wildlife.
Ghost lowers her voice.
“Why did Fox have to go get married right now of all times?”
Thire hears her.
His smile becomes unbearable.
“Because Senator Chuchi asked.”
“That was rhetorical!”
“Fox isn’t available for rhetorical questions. He’s busy exchanging vows and pretending he isn’t emotional.”
Ghost imagines Fox standing beneath Pantora’s moonlight in formal armor while the Guard collapses without him.
She hates the image because it is probably beautiful. Whatever constitutes as 'beautiful.'
She hates the cats more.
A Guard corporal appears on the monitor outside, holding a riot shield horizontally across his chest. Four inmates shelter behind him. The shield is covered in loth-cats.
One cat clings to the top edge and slaps repeatedly at the corporal’s helmet.
“Commander,” the corporal says through the intercom, “requesting entry.”
Ghost opens the first door.
The group moves into the isolation chamber.
“Remove the animals before opening the second,” she orders.
“We’re trying.”
One inmate gently pulls a cat from the shield.
Two more climb onto his back.
“This isn’t helping!”
Stone activates the internal speaker.
“Do not injure them.”
The inmate twists around. “They’re injuring me!”
“Proportional force only.”
“What’s proportional force against a cat?”
Ghost answers, “Another cat.”
Thire laughs into his caf.
She turns on him.
“You are a commander.”
“Correct.”
“You have inherited part of Thorn’s workload.”
“Senate escorts and patrol scheduling.”
“This is a Guard emergency!”
“This is Stone’s prison.”
Stone points at Ghost. “She declared it a riot!”
Ghost points at the animals covering the riot shield. “Because the prison is being overrun!”
Thire gestures toward the inmates.
“They appear engaged in meaningful rehabilitation.”
A cat jumps from the console and lands inside his caf.
Thire stops smiling. Serves him right.
The animal pulls its head free, sneezes, then bolts across the controls.
Its wet paws activate six switches.
Three cell doors unlock.
The ventilation fans shut down.
Every light in the lower prison turns red.
A recorded voice announces, EXECUTION PROTOCOL INITIATED.
The entire room freezes.
Stone lunges for the console. Ghost catches the caf-soaked cat before it can trigger anything else. Thire stares at his empty cup with those stupid sad eyes.
“That feature shouldn’t exist,” Ghost says.
“It doesn’t,” Stone replies, typing rapidly. “It’s an obsolete label for emergency power isolation.”
From the lower blocks, an inmate shouts through the intercom.
“Why did the prison just tell us we’re being executed?”
“Administrative error,” Stone answers.
“That’s not comforting!”
“Remain calm.”
“We’re fighting carnivorous furniture with legs!”
The execution announcement stops.
The alarms continue.
Ghost holds the struggling cat at arm’s length. It hisses at her with the confidence of a creature that has never experienced consequences.
Thire looks at the caf dripping from the console.
His glee is gone. Good.
Ghost offers him the cat.
“Do you wanna help now?”
Thire takes it.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It ruined my caf.”
Stone looks at him in disbelief.
“The prison wasn’t enough?”
“It wasn’t my caf.”
Ghost draws her sidearm, checks that it is set to the lowest stun level, and heads for the door.
“Stone, coordinate the inmates. Thire, seal every maintenance access point.”
“With what?”
“I don’t care! Use senatorial correspondence if you have to!”
“That’s classified!”
“So are the cats now!”
Thire tucks the offending loth-cat beneath one arm.
It bites him. He swears. HA!
Ghost smiles for the first time all evening.
Thire looks at the sealed doors beginning to shake.
Stone reaches for a riot shield.
Somewhere off planet, Fox is getting married.
Ghost draws her second blaster.
“He is never allowed to leave Coruscant again.”