A star-ship rests on a bed of rubble between the remains of smashed buildings. Inside, the berths have been stripped down to the metal and re-purposed as cells for 'guests'.
In a station as lawless as Caen Stronghold, the concept of a jail functions mostly as a place for the heavily inebriated to sleep away their intoxication or for any luckless Consortium or Gaul representatives that happened to find their way onto the station and now await 'travel arrangements' (which is freebooter for 'ransom'). The stark, dirty chome paneling of the re-purposed cruiser that serves as the brig reflects the meager, often intermittent lighting afforded by the three working bulbs in a garish and depressing fashion. Like much of the station, almost every aspect of the 'brig' seems patched together and jury-rigged out of old tech. An old navicomp in the corner has been hacked and now serves to open and close the 'cells' of the 'building'.
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