Captured Commander, II

[Cptn Corizon 0]

Corizon remained in solitude for a few more hours, though in the restraints it seemed to last for days. When two of the guards finally did come to check on him, he really wasn’t sure how long it had been since he last saw someone.

 

“I see this one’s finally calmed down,” one of the guards said as he looked over Ah-Windu. “I suppose we can take of the muzzle now.”

 

His eyes, which had grown dull and melancholy, suddenly flashed with hope again. He’d never realized how desperate a situation could really turn until this sordid affair.

 

“That seemed to cheer him up,” one of the guards jeered, as if Corizon was to dumb to understand. He assumed, quite correctly, that the barb was intended to test him, so he only sighed.

 

The guards looked at each other then nodded. The taller one of the two, a youngish male Al-Ucard produced a small remote, one that had become all too familiar to Corizon, who instinctively winced when the guard pressed a button. But instead of a jarring jolt of energy, the muzzle fell lightly on the ground. Corizon sighed deeply, relieved to have that heinous device off his face.

 

“If you can behave,” the taller guard said, picking up the muzzle. “You will be fed.”

 

“Thank you,” Corizon said lowly.

 

It was sometime later that he was finally allowed to eat and drink. The same two guards came for him, and removed the restraints that bound him to the wall, though they were quick to restrain him through other means.

 

They brought him to a small room, where a simple table and chair had been set up for him.

 

“You will eat here.”

 

Corizon nodded and entered the room. Solitude once more…it was beginning to drive him crazy. The taller Al-Ucard entered the room with a plate of raw meat and pitcher of water, placing it before Corizon.

 

“Thank you,” Corizon said with a nod. At least the food didn’t look half bad.

 

“I will be just outside the door,” the guard said, turning to leave.

 

Corizon looked up from his meal, “May I ask you something?”

 

The guard turned back, “What?”

 

“What is to become of me?”

 

“You know as well as I do,” the guard said. “The choice rests in the hands of your master.”

 

“Of course,” Corizon lied. “What is usually the punishment for my offense?”

 

The guard looked skpetkically at him, “It depends on how favored you were. If your master liked you, and you have not angered him too deeply, you may only get off with a lashing of the silver whips.”

 

Corizon gulped. “And if not?”

“Death,” the guard said with an eerie smirk. “Now finish your meal. Laheir’s personal guard will be coming for you soon.”

 

Corizon nodded and returned to his meal…which if he couldn’t think of a way out of his mess, could be his last.