Arvin Ryst was shoved from behind by a stormtrooper and sent tumbling down the ramp of the Lambda class shuttle. The soldier didn't give him a moment to recover, trotting down the ramp and nudging him in the ribs with the tip of his boot.

"Alright, movie it," the stormtrooper ordered.

Arvin struggled to his feet to avoid further abuse. A light strip, flush with the floor, switched on to show him which way to go in order to reach the cells and his permanent dwelling. The dull brown rock visible everywhere, both inside and outside the pressurized environment of the mining station, glittered with a substance known as spice.

Used in small doses for healing packs, spice was employed across the galaxy by both the Empire and Rebellion, but a more concentrated amount created a narcotic effect with severe addiction. In an effort to keep spice from being used in a way detrimental to the productivity of the Empire, the spice mines were turned into a prison and heavily guarded. Despite their strict security, smugglers continued to find ways around it; many smugglers were captured or killed, but enough slipped through to make it a very lucrative, if risky, business venture for either the clever or the desperate.

Arvin knew about spice running, but he'd never been a part of it. His innocence hadn't seemed to bother the Imperials when they'd arrested and convicted him, sentencing him to life in the mines of Kessel.

The miners stopped their work, lowering their tools and removing their protective face masks to stare at him as he walked past. They knew as well as Arvin did, his life was over. Getting sent to Kessel was a death sentence, especially if he was innocent. The guilty found ways to survive, usually at the expense of others, but the innocent were unprepared for the savage daily life of the mines and didn't last long.

Although Arvin was innocent of the crimes he'd been accused of committing, he'd worked his way up from the gutters on his homeworld of Brileon. Managing to avoid the gangs and other criminal enterprises had been a difficult task during his youth, but he'd found odd jobs and strenuous work for an honest credit. A voice in the back of his mind was telling him it had all been for nothing as he'd ended up rotting away with the scum of the galaxy anyway, but he fought against the voice. His life was his own, now and always. He'd struggled for a better future before, and he'd do so now, surviving until he found a way out, one way or another.

The cells were small and cramped with barely enough room for the one bunk housed in each. His own accommodations were identical to the deplorable conditions of the other prisoners, but Arvin didn't mind as he'd slept in worse places. He sat down on the bunk as the door slid shut behind him, confining him in a tiny cell on a desolate asteroid where they expected him to remain for as long as he lived.

The days passed slowly with the grueling monotony. He was issued a pickaxe to do his work. Even though more advanced equipment was available, escape was less likely with primitive tools. The Imperials had also provided him a protective face mask and respiratory gear to prevent accidental exposure to spice while mining. From the moment he awoke in the morning until the day was over, Arvin used his axe to slowly chip away at the rocks and extract the spice from the bits and pieces broken off. The only interruptions in the drudgery were in the morning and evening meals of stale rations, just enough to keep the prisoners alive and productive.

Arvin adjusted to his new life superficially. While he worked, he kept a careful eye on the stormtroopers, watching their movements, patrol routes, and patterns of behavior until he had them memorized. He waited more than a month to be sure he also knew their rotational schedule. It was then Arvin made his move.

In one of the large central chambers on Kessel, the guards had set up tables and chairs in a crude mess hall. Arvin found a particularly disagreeable Gamorrean and attacked the muscular alien, the resulting fight quickly spreading among the other convicts until it was a full riot. Arvin managed to distract his opponent by shoving another prisoner in his direction, and the not too bright Gamorrean quickly set about thrashing his new enemy, giving Arvin the chance to slip away.

Hiding in a side tunnel, Arvin waited for the incoming stormtroopers to arrive and establish order. When the end of the formation came into view, he reached out and grabbed the last man in line, dragging him away. Taking the guard's armor and leaving him tied up in a storage closet, Arvin joined the rest of the stormtroopers in putting down the riot.

None of the guards suspected him, and none of them looked under his helmet, so when the day was over and the shuttles arrived to deliver fresh troops and rotate out the current staff, Arvin went along, marching in formation as if he was no different than them.

When he was off Kessel, Arvin maintained his cover for several weeks until he was transferred to another post, doing everything asked of him in order to maintain his cover. One night, he was assigned to guard the rear gate of the base perimeter. He waited until the majority of base personnel were asleep and then simply walked away. Arvin discarded the armor in a trash bin and made his way to the starport. Quietly booking passage under an assumed identity, he left the Imperial world behind and lost himself in the vibrant confusion of civilized space.

It had taken time and effort, but he had escaped his unlawful confinement and won his freedom. Never again would he see the prison cells in the spice mines of Kessel.