Nova Prison Facility

Tess's eyes cracked open. The thin blue light filtering through the viewport painted stripes across her face. Discomfort thrummed in her shoulder blades, a dull ache that had become as familiar as her own heartbeat these past two weeks. She nudged herself upright, wincing at the way her back protested.

The tiny alcove felt even smaller than usual this morning. She pushed off the wall and grabbed the faded grey fabric of her pajamas, pulling them over her head with a sigh. The soft material felt rough against her skin, thin after weeks without a real bath. She hadn't gotten used to the constant slickness of recycled water showers. It was like taking a lukewarm dip in the public pool at summer camp. But she supposed that was what happened when you lived on a ship crammed with thousands.

She tugged the dark grey uniform over her head, smoothing out the wrinkles where it clung damply to her hips. The collar stiff, black plastic bit into her skin as she fastened the clasp. It felt like a brand, the symbol of her Species' diminished rights etched onto her flesh. Even after two weeks, she still caught herself flinching whenever someone looked too closely at it.

She walked towards the viewport and stared out at the swirling nebula they were passing through. Colors shifted like an artist's palette flung across a canvas shades of violet, emerald, crimson bleeding into each other in impossible swirls.

"Another day," she muttered under her breath. The words felt hollow even to her own ears. What was there left to say? It wasn't as if she had much choice in the matter.

Her stomach growled, reminding her of breakfast or rather, the mush they called breakfast. A lumpy porridge like concoction with an odd tang that tasted vaguely of algae and burnt rubber. At least it was something. It kept them going. Kept them alive. She pushed back her shoulder blades and straightened her spine as she walked to the door. She'd been assigned to the galley today. One of the better jobs, at least in terms of proximity to food.

"Morning, Tess!" The greeting came from behind a mountain of crates stacked precariously near the doorway. It was Leanna, the only other Human she spoke to before on here.

Leanna was holding up a chipped blue mug, its surface stained with something that might have once been coffee. She fumbled it as she spoke. The mug clattered to the floor, sloshing milky liquid across the scuffed metal grating of the walkway.

"Sorry," Leanna mumbled, scrambling to mop it up with her sleeve. It wasn't much better than the dishwater they used for everything else. "Didn't see that there."

A gruff snort echoed from behind a stack of crates labelled 'Recycled Plastics'. A pair of bulky Zephari lumbered into view. One, taller and broader than the other, wore a chipped metal plate on his chest an officer. The smaller one had a nose ring that looked like a twisted piece of barbed wire. They were both slick with sweat, even in this chilly section of the ship. Tess supposed it was always hot near the engine room.

"You clumsy little Earthworm," the taller Zephari said, his voice like gravel grinding on steel. He took a step closer, pushing Leanna back against the crates. She flinched, her eyes wide and frantic behind thick spectacles perched precariously on her nose.

The smaller Zephari shoved past the officer. He snatched up the mug from the floor in one hand and hurled it at Leanna. It exploded on impact with a sickening crunch, plastering milky coffee onto her face. She gagged, wiping at her cheek with a shaking hand, leaving a smear of brown across her pale skin.

"This is what you get for wasting time," the smaller Zephari snarled, shoving his knuckles into Leanna's stomach. It was more like a hard shove than a punch, but it still sent her sprawling. She hit the floor with a thud that reverberated through the cramped passageway.

Tess watched Leanna crumple, surprised by how long she stood there paralyzed before the officer grabbed her arm and started dragging her along the walkway.

"Hey!" Tess finally managed to say. It came out more like a choked squeak. The words felt ridiculous, weak.

Her foot kicked out instinctively. The toe of her boot connected with the small Zephari's shin. He yelped, staggering back a step. But it wasn't enough. The larger Zephari loomed over her, grabbing her arm roughly before she could even take another breath.

"What's this little human want?" he bellowed, squeezing his grip tighter. It felt like a vise closing around her bone. Tess winced. Her shoulder popped with an agonizing crack. She tried to pull away, but the officer only tightened his hold. He shoved her forward, so hard that she stumbled against Leanna's limp form on the floor.

The smaller Zephari was back at her side now, shoving his face close enough for Tess to smell the stale reek of sweat and fermented algae that seemed to be a constant part of their odor. He grinned, baring teeth that were too sharp, too long.

He didn't even bother with his claws this time. Just brought his fist crashing down onto Tess's cheekbone. Her world exploded in a shower of sparks and pain. She tasted blood, thick and metallic, on her tongue. The officer hauled her up by the arm.

Then came darkness, the kind that swallowed everything whole, muffling all sound but the pulsing throb of blood in her ears. She woke to the grating smell of disinfectant and stale recycled air. A single flickering tube light cast harsh shadows across a cell with walls made of rough grey metal. It was barely bigger than a closet, smelling faintly of sweat and despair.

A gruff voice came from behind her, "Welcome to Sector Four, human." She turned her head slowly to see the smaller Zephari with his barbed wire nose ring standing near the door. He had a smug smirk playing on his lips, which were already starting to heal.

The cell door clanged shut behind him. Tess slid to the floor, back pressing against the cold metal. Her cheek throbbed in time with her heart. It was worse than a hangover, more visceral, like someone had punched through her skull and was gnawing at her brain from inside.

They'd said this would be quick. That she'd face the judge tomorrow. But what kind of judge? A Zephari, for sure. What if they didn't believe in fairness? She remembered whispers on Nomad II about prison here, about how easy it was to become expendable. About the "reconditioning" programs something whispered with a shiver that went deeper than fear. Something involving needles and screams that echoed through the ship's ventilation shafts long after they stopped.

Sleep didn't come. The cell reeked of stale sweat and desperation, the air thick enough to taste. Every shift of her head against the metal wall sent a jolt of pain through her cheekbone. Outside the thin door, muffled shouts echoed in the tight spaces between compartments Zephari voices rasping with amusement, punctuated by the rhythmic thud of something heavy hitting flesh.

Light finally pierced through a narrow crack at the top of the cell door around what felt like dawn, though whether it was real or fabricated she couldn't say. A shadow stretched across the floor as a pair of massive hands seized her arm and yanked her to her feet. The tug ripped something loose in her shoulder, sending a fresh wave of agony through her body.

"Come on then, you fleshy slug," one voice growled, deep and gravelly like rocks tumbling in a cave. Tess stumbled forward, shoved roughly into a corridor humming with activity. Around her, other prisoners shuffled along in silent procession: humans, pale and thin, their eyes hollowed with fear; a few scrawny creatures with fur and oversized ears, heads hung low; even a hulking reptilian thing that seemed to drag its limbs across the floor more than walked.

The corridor opened into a vast chamber bathed in harsh artificial light. A platform rose from the center. It was adorned with twisted metal sculptures and glittering crystals, all lit from within by pulsing blue veins of light. Three Zephari sat there: two hulking males, their skin the pale blue of chipped glaciers, each sporting horns that curved back in cruel spirals; the third a woman, smaller than the men but no less imposing, with sleek, obsidian-black horns that spiraled like polished bone.

Tess was pushed onto the platform and wedged between two other humans, both women, their faces etched with lines of defeat. They looked at her with a silent plea in their eyes. Tess felt a surge of sympathy for them, then it curdled into anger when she noticed the woman on the platform didn't even glance at them. She was busy meticulously smoothing down a stray filament on her horn, humming to herself as if they weren't even there.

The Zephari woman finally glanced up. Her eyes were enormous, set deep in her head like pale blue marbles, and they held Tess in their gaze with unsettling intensity. Not the predatory hunger of the males, but something colder, sharper like ice dissecting flesh. She finished smoothing her horn with a delicate flick of her wrist, then turned her attention to the huddled figures on the platform. Her lips barely moved as she spoke, her voice a crystalline rasp that sliced through the chamber's low hum.

"Human," she said. The single word hung in the air, charged with a weight that made Tess's teeth ache. She didn't bother with titles or formalities. There was no need for pleasantries when dealing with specimens like them.

The woman's gaze swept over Tess, lingering on her bruised cheek and the way her ribs jutted out beneath her thin shirt. A faint smirk touched the corner of her lips almost imperceptible, but it sent a shiver down Tess's spine. "You assaulted one of my guards." It wasn't a question.

She glanced at the two hulking males beside her, their horned heads bent in bored agreement, fingers idly tracing patterns on the smooth metal platform.

"A transgression worthy of punishment," the Zephari continued, her voice like polished obsidian scraping against bone. "Twenty years." She didn't offer options, not even a flicker of hesitation. "Nova Prison Facility." The name hung in the air, heavy and cold as a tomb. Tess had heard whispers about Nova rumors that whispered of unimaginable horrors, where not many make it out at all.

The platform vanished beneath Tess's feet, the ground a jarring shift from the smooth metal. She was hustled through a maze of corridors, past caged rows filled with creatures that looked vaguely avian but with skin like hammered copper and eyes that burned like coals. The smell here was worse than the cell sour sweat, ammonia, and something metallic that pricked at Tess's nose.

They shoved her unceremoniously into a shuttle. It stank of recycled air and stale fear. She landed next to a creature with fur the color of dried blood and a pair of unnervingly intelligent eyes set in its head like polished stones. The thing stared at her for what felt like an eternity, then blinked once slowly, deliberately before slumping into a corner.

The shuttle lurched violently, throwing Tess against the metal wall. When she finally managed to pry herself loose and look out the viewport, she was met with a sight that stole the breath from her lungs.

Nova Prison Facility sprawled beneath them like a monstrous metallic spider. Its legs were towering chrome structures bristling with walkways and observation decks, its segmented body housing an endless series of cell blocks that seemed to stretch into the horizon. It wasn't just size that intimidated Tess; it was the sheer cold efficiency of the thing. There were no windows, only panels of frosted glass that held back the oppressive grey light of the ship's interior. A constant low hum emanated from its depths, a throbbing pulse that resonated through her bones.

She saw them unloading prisoners from other shuttles onto platforms at various levels: a cluster of humans crammed into a cage, their arms bound in thick leather straps; two reptilian creatures with shimmering scales being prodded by Zephari guards wielding energy whips; even a creature resembling a giant, iridescent beetle being hoisted up into the facility on a metal gantry. It all moved like clockwork, a symphony of enforced order and quiet despair.

Tess was herded through a series of airlocks that hissed open and closed behind them, each one another step further into the belly of the beast. They finally reached a cavernous processing chamber. A dozen or so Zephari guards stood scattered around its perimeter, barking orders at prisoners being shuffled between two rows of examining tables. The scene was a chaotic ballet of fear and naked vulnerability.

A rough hand clamped onto Tess's arm, pulling her forward. Another guard shoved her onto an examination table that felt far too cold under her thin shirt. He barked something unintelligible, then ripped off the flimsy tunic covering her body with a swift motion that sent shivers down her spine. A gruff laugh echoed from somewhere in the chamber.

She tried to pull her arms closer to her chest but he held them rigidly apart. The guard ran a thick hand over every inch of her body, searching for contraband, muttering something about "prison-issued undergarments." He even checked her ears and nostrils his fingers digging deep into the fleshy folds. When he reached her mouth, she wanted to scream.

He moved on finally, grunting something about "fresh meat" before pulling a small handheld scanner over her bare legs, from toes to hips. The beep of the device was as sharp as the sting in her exposed skin. He didn't say anything as he ripped off her thin pants and scanned her once more, then tossed them unceremoniously onto a pile of other discarded clothing.

Tess felt utterly exposed, naked not just in body but in all the vulnerable ways she'd tried so hard to protect herself back on Earth: her awkwardness, her slight build, the way her stomach still jiggled when she moved. She wanted to shrink into nothing, melt into the grimy floor.

The guard grabbed her roughly by the scruff of her neck and dragged her down a narrow corridor lined with cells that were stacked in tiers like honeycombs. He shoved her into one, slamming the door shut behind him with a clang that reverberated through her bones. It was small, barely big enough to turn around in.

And she wasn't alone…