Chapter Text
Part One
After living for over nine hundred years and enduring imprisonment by the Daleks during the Last Great Time War, Aznavorian knew he needed to be more cautious in his first regenerated form — a tall African American man he boldly named Skeeta Jenkins. Yet, it took just one meddling, dissatisfied middle-aged housewife to throw him into a holding cell…inside the Detention Area of the Death Star.
Now, compounding his already humiliating predicament, Skeeta found himself acting as an unwitting footstool for his insufferable cellmate — Miss Tabitha Thorne. She was the very same meddlesome, discontented middle-aged housewife who had ensnared him in this tangled web of woes. With an air of restlessness, she squirmed incessantly, her butt shifting and pressing down on his shoulder, making it an increasingly precarious challenge for him to maintain any semblance of balance beneath her.
“Take it easy now,” she instructed him, her tone imbued with a blend of caution and encouragement, as if he even needed her guidance. “I think I’m almost there.” Her gaze was fixed intently on the ceiling grate of their dimly lit holding cell, looming a good ten feet above them like a distant sky. With Skeeta’s impressive height, they were able to bridge the remaining distance. He bent slightly and, with a powerful boost, lifted Tabitha toward the grate, her fingers just brushing against the cold metal as hope surged through her.
“Hurry up,” Skeeta muttered with a furrowed brow, frustration lacing his voice. “You’re taking too damn long on this!” His impatience was palpable, echoing in the stillness of the room, marred only by the marching steps of the Stormtroopers outside.
“Dude, relax, I’ve got this,” Tabitha said with a reassuring smile, her light brown eyes sparkling with confidence. She brushed a loose strand of blond hair behind her ear and took a deep breath, grounding herself in the moment. “Just give me an extra boost, will ya?”
Skeeta obliged, straightening his bent position.
“Wait! No! Not that much—!” Too late. The top of Tabitha’s head smacked against the ceiling grate, causing her to lose her balance in the process. She tumbled right off Skeeta’s shoulder and landed on the cold, hard floor of their cell with a loud, painful thud.
“You clumsy fool…!” Skeeta started to reprimand her, his voice tinged with irritation, but his words caught in his throat as the heavy metal door to their dimly lit cell suddenly whooshed open. The sharp sound echoed in the confined space, momentarily silencing his frustration. The stark, fluorescent light from the corridor spilled in, illuminating the dust motes swirling in the stale air and casting long shadows on the cold floor. Skeeta’s hearts raced; he knew that this unexpected interruption could change everything.
A lone Stormtrooper marched into the room, the unmistakable clank of his armor reverberating off the walls. His gaze zeroed in on Tabitha, who was seated on the cold floor, wincing as she rubbed her tender rear. “What’s going on in here?!” the Stormtrooper demanded, his voice sharp and commanding, slicing through the thick atmosphere with an air of authority.
Tabitha looked up at him, smiling awkwardly. “Nothing’s goin’ on, Mr. Stormtrooper, sir.”
“Why’re you on the floor?” the trooper asked her. “And what was that noise I heard?”
Tabitha had a lie at the ready. “My butt fell asleep from all the sitting, so I figured I’d slam it down a few times on the floor…ya know…just to get the feelin’ back in my cheeks.” It wasn’t a very good lie, though.
The Stormtrooper’s glossy white helmet obscured any hint of expression, making it nearly impossible for Skeeta or Tabitha to decipher whether the Imperial had been fooled by Tabitha’s elaborate fabrication. The sterile, metallic walls of their holding cell echoed eerily as the Stormtrooper stood silently for a moment, processing the situation. After what felt like an eternity, he turned on his heel, his armor clanking softly, and exited the cell. The door swung shut behind him with a resounding, cold slam, amplifying the finality of their isolation and leaving Skeeta with a growing sense of dread and uncertainty.
“Phew!” Tabitha exclaimed with a smile, getting back on her feet. “That was pretty close, wasn’t it?”
“That was pretty stupid, that’s what that was!” Skeeta stormed.
Tabitha noticed his frustration and smiled gently. “Hey, let’s take a breath and not worry too much. We can totally give it another try! Just lift me back up, okay?”
“No! We’re not taking any more risks!” Skeeta insisted.
Tabitha crossed her arms, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “So, what? You’re just going to give up on escaping? Seriously?”
“We wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t stuck your nose where it doesn’t belong!” Skeeta shot back, his voice laced with anger. “This is all your fault!”
“My fault?!” Tabitha exclaimed, her brows furrowing in disbelief. “How is any of this my fault?! I can’t believe you’d even think that!”
“Believe it!” Skeeta retorted. “You saw a black man in your neighborhood, late at night, not botherin’ a soul — and your first brilliant thought was to come at him the way you did!”
Tabitha opened her mouth to counter, but she stopped herself. Skeeta was right…no, he was justified in his argument. A wave of guilt washed over her, leaving her feeling small and defensive. All she could say for herself was, “I didn’t mean any harm…I was only trying to do the right thing,” but even she wasn’t sure if that was enough to excuse her actions.
“Yeah, well, look where doing ‘the right thing’ got you,” Skeeta snapped, his voice dripping with disdain.
Tabitha felt her heart sink deeper with every unyielding word of his criticism. The weight of his disappointment suffocated her more than the confines of their holding cell. “I didn’t mean any harm,” she muttered again, her voice barely a whisper, as if her apology could somehow mend the invisible chasm growing between them. Tears threatened to spill as she realized that no matter how hard she tried, she could never seem to escape the shadows of his harsh judgments.
Several Moments Earlier…
“I didn’t mean any harm,” Tabitha snapped, her tone sharp as she stood her ground before the manager of her local supermarket in West Valley City, Utah. She was reporting another customer — some Hispanic college kid in his early twenties — for scanning more than ten items in a ‘ten items or fewer’ checkout lane. “It’s completely unfair to everyone else waiting in line!”
“It’s just a couple of cans of soup, lady!” The college punk countered.
“Today, it’s just a couple of cans,” Tabitha sneered, her voice flowing with mockery as shoppers turned to look, “but tomorrow, it’ll be eleven!” Her words echoed through the bustling supermarket aisles, creating a ripple of gasps and sidelong glances among the nearby customers.
“Mrs. Thorne,” Mr. Givens, the manager, said calmly, “I appreciate your assistance and support for Graceful Foods. However, I kindly ask that you lower your voice. We need to maintain a professional atmosphere and avoid drawing unwanted attention to our operations.”
Tabitha felt a wave of relief wash over her. She knew Givens would understand the situation completely. With his three decades of experience at Graceful Foods, he had seen it all. They were roughly the same age, and their families attended the same church on Sundays, fostering a sense of camaraderie. She felt confident that he would stand by her side, especially given the circumstances concerning the young shopper.
The college punk was ordered to remove his items from the conveyor belt and go to one of the busier lanes, all while giving Tabitha the stink eye. Not that she cared because, after all was said and done, she won.
After a long day, she returned to her suburban home feeling more confident than ever, eager to unwind after putting away the groceries. As she pulled into the driveway, a short, plump 60-year-old Caucasian woman with curly red hair waddled over to her white SUV. She recognized her as Beth, her next-door neighbor.
“Didja hear?” Beth always started their conversations that way — direct, without so much of a ‘How are you?’
“Hear what?” Tabitha asked.
“Susan called me this morning and said a black man has been prowling around the neighborhood after midnight,” Beth reported. The only reason Beth had for telling Tabitha this was the fact that Tabitha was appointed coordinator of neighborhood watch, while Beth was assigned the position of ‘block watcher.’
Needless to say, Tabitha was a little unsettled by the report. “I’ll be sure to look into it,” she reassured. “Thanks, Beth.”
Once inside her majestic home, Tabitha called her son while stocking away her groceries. “Ty, how’re ya, sweetie?” she sweetly greeted him as soon as he answered the call.
“Mom, I’ve met a really terrific girl!” Tyler announced.
This news thrilled Tabitha. “Really?! Oh, tell me all about her!”
“Well…” Tyler sounded a bit reluctant to do so. “I can’t exactly go into too many details, but she’s really hot…erm, I mean, she’s really beautiful. Matter of fact, I’ll send you a pic we took together, a little while ago.”
Tabitha got the text notification almost instantly.
Sure enough, she received the selfie of Tyler and his new girlfriend — a young Caucasian brunette in a cropped black turtleneck. “Oh, Tyler,” Tabitha gasped. “Honey, she’s more than ‘beautiful’ — she’s gorgeous! When do I get to meet her?”
Tyler sounded apprehensive again. “Well…I…uh…”
Suddenly, another notification came across Tabitha’s phone, informing her of another caller — her husband, Ted. “Oh, sorry, sweetheart,” she told Tyler. “Your father’s trying to call me. I’ll talk to ya later, and you can tell me all about this new girl.”
“O.K., Mom,” said a relieved Tyler. “Bye.”
Tabitha switched the call over to Ted. “Hiya, honey.”
“Hey, hon,” Ted replied, his voice thick with exhaustion, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. It had been several months since his last business trip, and in that time, the bustling energy of their six sons — including Tyler — had faded from the Thorne household. Now, Tabitha found herself surrounded by the quiet stillness of their once-vibrant home, spending her days in solitude, the echoes of laughter and youthful energy replaced by the soft murmur of everyday life.
Her solitude was about to get even more unbearable once Ted dropped some damning news on her: “My trip’s been extended to another three months…so I’m gonna miss Thanksgiving and Christmas with you, the boys, and the grandkids.”
Tabitha was heartbroken but understanding. “No worries, babe,” she shuddered. “Just…keep doin’ a great job. That company is lucky to have a wonderful man like you there.”
“Aww, thanks, hon,” Ted said. “Gotta go. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” Tabitha sniffled, left to stare at her silent phone afterwards.
Late that night, she drowned her sorrows in a glass of wine she had saved for herself and Ted to share upon his return home. Sitting alone in her living room, she found herself in a drunken stupor. Her eyes struggled to focus on the screen through her hazy vision.
But then a noise from outside moderately sobered her up.
She remembered the heads-up Beth had given her about the black prowler in their neighborhood. She glanced at the time on her phone — twenty minutes past midnight.
She stumbled her way into the kitchen, grabbing a frying pan.
She then rushed out of her home to confront the prowler, catching him standing in the middle of the street and looking up at the sky — for some strange reason. “Hey, you!” she barked, not caring who she woke up in the late hours of the night. “Don’t freakin’ move!”
The prowler turned her way, raising his hands in protest. “Easy, lady!”
“Don’t you ‘Easy, lady’ me, asshole! What do you think you’re doing in our neighborhood?!”
The man hesitated to explain. “I really wish I could tell ya, ma’am…but I don’t think you’ll believe me.”
“Try me!” Tabitha challenged. “Or else I call the cops!”
Their confrontation was abruptly interrupted by a roar that echoed throughout the area. To Tabitha’s ears, which had become ultra-sensitive due to her excessive drinking, it sounded like thousands of jets flying overhead. However, when she looked up with the prowler, she realized that was nowhere near the truth.
There, looming over her neighborhood, was an Imperial Star Destroyer.
