I apparently sleep for an entire day and into the next morning. I don't remember any dreams that I may have had.

Looking around, my first thought is that I've either been moved to a new, nicer cell or that I've died and heaven consists of rooms with softish beds and a window overlooking a grain field.  Then I remember the escape, and get up too fast.

I have a really bad habit of doing that, I've noticed.

Once my head stops aching, I walk to the door.  Might as well find some food. 

I'm starving.

Well, maybe not starving.  I've felt what starving feels like, and, while it isn't this, it's a useful adjective to use.

I'm very hungry.

How's that?

Now, I need to find the food.  I hope it's better than the prison slop.  As soon as I step out the door, I'm startled by how many people wander the halls.  Shouldn't they be in their rooms or eating, or at their jobs?  You don't want the Empire finding out--

I'm not there anymore.

Listen to yourself, Cassian.  You're free.

You can wander all you'd like.

But first, food.

I stop a human on his way down the hall.  "Excuse me, where's the mess hall?"

He pauses.  "You must be one of the liberated prisoners!  I'm Gil Brant, pilot."

I shake his extended hand slowly.  "Cassian Andor."

He repeats my name quietly, seemingly filing it away for future reference, then directs me to follow him.  After a few twists and turns, which I attempt (futilely) to memorize, we emerge in a large mess hall.  It's smaller than the prison one on Geonosis, but instead of low, gruff conversations, the room is filled with clanking dishes and laughter.

"Food is over there, you can sit anywhere you'd like." Gil scans the room. "I think your friends are sitting over there if you'd like to join them."

I look over where he's pointing and see an extremely quiet table. Most of them are still in prison garb, like me, and all look frightened. They probably feel like me, if we act out then they'll do something bad to us.

I go to the line for food and grab a tray.  Scoops of scrambled eggs and fruit are loaded onto the tray.

So much better than the prison slop.  I sit down at the table with my fellow liberated prisoners.

They all start when my tray hits the table with a clatter.

"Sorry," I mumble, picking up my fork.

Linami glances up, then stands.  "Everyone, we are wanted in the main room in an hour.  Now that everyone is awake."  She shoots a look my way and leaves to put her tray in the receptacle.

I sigh and dig in.  One by one, everyone leaves.  Which is kind of a bad thing, since I don't know my way around the base.

I end up sitting by myself for the last few bites of fruit.

Fortunately, it seems like everyone is headed to the same place, and I assume  that place is the meeting room, so I follow the river of Rebels and find myself in a spacious enclosed theater-like area, with all of the chairs sloping down to a small stage with some very important looking people on it.

"Are you one of the prisoners?" someone whispers to me.

I nod.

"Right down there."  They point and I see, again, all of the liberated prisoners sitting much quieter than the rest.

"Thank you."  I make my way carefully down to the front row, where they are, and sit next to Gaspard.

He smiles at me, and looks about to say something, but then a man onstage clears his throat.

"Welcome, everyone.  In case you haven't noticed, and I expect you have, we have some new Rebels here, recently liberated from Geonosis."

Some applaud, many look around until they find us.  We sit awkwardly.  I wait for the attention to turn away from us.

The man keeps his eyes on us, scanning each face as he introduces himself, "I am Senator Bail Organa, representative of Alderaan in the Imperial Senate, and a leader of our Rebellion against that same government.  Now, liberated friends, you have a few choices.  You can leave, and be relocated to a neutral planet or moon somewhere, where you'll be relatively safe for a while.  Or you can take a brief aptitude test and, based on your results and how you like them, train as a Rebel or be relocated to one of those neutral zones.  If you choose the first, please approach me or one of the other officers up here," he gestures to the other men and women of other species behind him, "and we will attend to that.  The aptitude test will take place in two days, giving you enough time for the decision."

And with that, the attention moves to some attack on an imperial supply route some pilots conducted.  After a few more reports, we were dismissed.

I hang behind a bit to talk about the choices with Gaspard.

He tells me that he is going to take the test.  "I'd rather do something than do nothing.  Neutrality assists the winning side."

"Since they aren't helping the losing side win," I muse.

"Exactly.  Are you going to take the test?"

"I've been fighting since the age of six.  Of course I'm taking the bloody test!"