Certain patrol routes were coveted. Certain patrol routes were not.
Of course all troopers followed their orders as given by their superior officers. Of course all troopers performed their assigned patrols exactly as specified without one deviation from them. There were certainly never any wagers about swapping patrol days or times or patterns.
And one particular trooper had definitely not won the heads-or-tails toss to patrol the corridors nearest the interrogation cells ninety-two times in a row, in all contravention of logic and probability. It wasn’t that this trooper particularly liked the interrogation cells. She wasn’t a sadist. But the interrogation cells were not located near any key portion of the ship, for obvious reasons, and thus there were few chances of meeting high level officials there. A patrol on the interrogation deck, especially when there were no prisoners, was a positive stroll in the park compared to the other decks. There was even a makeshift bench out of view of all of the cameras, on which one could sit and contemplate how long it took some poor sod in the armoury to polish Captain Phasma’s suit.
TR-0296 and TG-3550 stepped smoothly and professionally through their rounds, not speaking, as they often didn’t. They got along as far as these things went, but all communications were monitored and TR-0296 had learned quickly that TG-3550 didn’t have much in the way of a sense of humor. TR-0296 had once suggested that the Western Reaches were a conspiracy of cartographers. It hadn’t gone over well. Or at all, really. TR-0296 probably shouldn’t have had a sense of humor either, but it had somehow survived her training and she’d kept it concealed well enough that no one had tried to recondition it out of her yet.
Today, though, the patrol was different. Today there was a very valuable prisoner. It was highly classified, and so of course everyone knew it. Kylo Ren had brought her on board for interrogation, so there was at least a good chance they’d run into him down here. TR-0296 hoped not, though. No good thing happened to anyone or anything who caught Ren’s notice. Maintenance was still repairing the control room he’d destroyed last week.
Both of them kept their shoulders back and blasters at the ready since the camera crews would be more vigilant than usual today. They had nearly completed their rounds when TG-3550 noticed that JB-007 was walking ahead of them without his blaster. It was a severe breach of protocol, but that was his own lookout. They glanced at each other and then turned the corner to the hallway containing the prisoner’s cell.
The cell was open. And there were sparks flying out of it. Lots of sparks. Ah. Ren was here and the prisoner ... was not.
TG-3550 put out a hand to stop TR-0296. They glanced at each other again. Then, wordlessly, they turned and went back the same way they came.
The bench was unoccupied, unlike the interrogation room, which was occupied -- by the wrong person. There would be an alarm soon. People running everywhere, Captain Phasma at her most shiny.
“Do you want to play questions?”