I worked my absolute tail off to get this as right and tight. I promise more is coming it just got so long. Thank you ever so much for all your support through this behemoth of a book that this is becoming .🤍

[Ｌｏｃａｔｉｏｎ：
Ａｒｋａｎｉｓ
ｓｅｃｔｏｒ
ＤＳ－１ Ｏｒｂｉｔａｌ

Ｂａｔｔｌｅ Ｓｔａｔｉｏｎ

Ｅａｓｔｅｒｎ Ｑｕａｄｒａｎｔ

Ｔｒａｉｎｉｎｇ ｒｏｏｍ
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A  Y  E  N

"THE BLASTER RECEPTACLES, SHOULD THERE BE A BREACH, CAN BE FOUND AT points A1 and Zone C3."

Commander Starks' voice echoed off the high ceilings, the harsh glare of overhead lights outlining the seniors stiff, authoritative posture. "Similar to simulators used in the academies, this will show us who are the elite soldiers judging by your technique and skill..."

  His gloves hands remained folded behind his arched backside, each purposeful step showcasing the gleaming polish of his boots. Under his bristled mustache his lips thinned at the youthful cadets who bore the unmistakable look of a novice fresh to the scene. Between checking the vital statistics of their peers with jittery movements and inputting performance metrics into the holographic displays that floated before them.

It brought Ayen back to the first time she'd stepped inside a training room—an experience that had left her feeling small, insignificant in the shadow of the Empire's vast machinery. From the cold glow of the monitors and control panels that lined the walls to the ever-present surveillance, she'd felt eyes on her from every direction. Officers stood watch with their stern gazes, and the security holos flickered to life in every corner, ensuring that every movement, every breath, was meticulously recorded.

  It had nearly overwhelmed her back then. The sheer lack of privacy was suffocating, a constant reminder that she was nothing more than a cog in a much larger machine.

Days such as today made her all too aware of this.

Her least favorite was quarterly training which she was forced to endure, the repetition of the same imperial propaganda blaring out from the holoscreens above. Featured was an imperial man and woman in a crisp uniform wielding guns against a vibrant crimson backdrop, the six-spoked symbol of the imperial crest erected as a stark representation of allegiance.

The usual mantra echoed.

"Join COMPNOR, the Commission
for the Preservation
of the New Order,
TODAY!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Ayen noticed a rotund woman swivel a sharp gaze upon her. Officer Harlow, with a nose reminiscent of the bonegnawer birds native to the Jundland Wastes on Tatooine, had a way of making her presence known without a word.  Her greying auburn hair was pulled into a severe bun, the strands slicked back with the kind of precision that suggested an obsessive need for control. Every so often, Officer Harlow's fingers would twitch, an agitated tic while smoothing down the few strands. It was a habit Ayen recognized all too well—a telltale sign of the officer's perpetual irritability.

  The memory of the earful Ayen had received for her tardiness still stung, the harsh words delivered in front of the entire sect. It hadn't been her fault—the alarm on her chrono had malfunctioned—but Officer Harlow hadn't cared for excuses.

The woman has had a vendetta against me from day one. Stars help the souls that deal with her druk daily.

Midway through patrols, the brute of a woman—who believed herself superior to all the other officers present—halted to stand alongside Commander Stark. This occurred just as the cadets began their rounds on the virtual simulators.

"Cadett Brynn!" she barked, with a voice that snapped like the tail end of a whip. "Recite the first line to the Imperial Naval Code!"

A lanky blonde boy with skin pale like bone snapped to attention. "I will h-honor... the Empire in my thoughts and a-actions."

"A little less stuttering next time, Cadett Brynn, with formal address to your officer," she reprimanded sharply, shifting her attention to the next. "Cadett Pierce!" She gestured to a dark-skinned male, his tight curls glistening with sweat from the rigorous workout regimen. "Recite the next line, clear and concise. Or the lot of you will run suicides."

"Rodger, Officer Harlow. I will obey my superiors..."

I will never shirk from my duties.

I will maintain impeccable standards of conduct and appearance.

I will use imperial resources responsibly.

I will complete every mission without hesitation, ambiguity or... mercy...

Ayen could run the lines in her sleep, having memorized the key points in their standard handbooks with Ceru's help. Those first few weeks aboard, seasoned—rarely generous—personnel like Officer Sterling had forewarned them about what to expect during quarterly training. Newer officers were often selected at random and forced to recite the code of conduct.

  By now, it was second nature.

"A little more agility, Officer DeGwaye. Your reflexes are pathetic. Ms. Yuvar do not let up on him, you're kitchen staff for kriff sakes!"

  Harlow appeared done breaking in the new soldiers, making her rounds back over to their section. "Lieutenant Ayen!"

Kriff me.

A bead of sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades swallowing lungfuls of air. The cotton shirt clung to her perspired skin like wet paper while Ayen wrapped up the last of her suicides. Chest heaving from exertion, the battering muscle in her chest rattled as she fought to slow her breaths.

  She tried and failed not to flinch at the sharp pain between her ribs. "Officer Harlow," she addressed in a strained rasp.

A glint of malice visibly shone in the woman's dark eyes, relishing in watching Ayen, a tech, buckle beneath her. She leaned in while her voice dripped with mockery. "Are we sore yet, Lieutenant?"

The pad of Ayen's fingers throbbed from touching down on the hard ground, her sides like white-hot pokers. Still, she refused to feed into this woman's masochism. She was no stranger to those who found gratification in such tactics. "Tardiness is not acceptable. It will not happen again, Officer Harlow."

The woman's expression flattened in vexation, her lip curling in derision while she demanded, "Recite the next line of the code of conduct."

Her words were punctuated by the forceful stomp of her boot, triggering an outdated droid dummy to rise from the floor with a metallic whine. The aged mechanisms emitted a low thrum, and Ayen barely dodged the arm that swung out, narrowly avoiding a blow to her chest.

  "I—" She gasped, stumbling back when the droid's eyes flared with a vibrant light, its arm swiping dangerously close to her leg. "Will... recognize the Empire is greater than myself!" With a sharp breath, she pivoted and dove forward, her boot striking the target zone with precise force. The impact triggered a high-pitched wail, confirming the success of her strike. "And be willing to die in its service!" she finished, her voice steady, masking the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

"Say it with me! Right place. Right uniform. Right time, Lieutenant!"

Ayen could feel the weight of eyes upon her in the background, the gaze of her peers and various departments from the lower sub-levels bearing down upon her. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to focus on the droid, its spindly body pivoting with a sharp twist. A white-hot shockwave of pain exploded across her cheek as the droid struck, too fast for her to dodge in time.

  The room before Ayen seemed to vanish, a surreal vision taking hold of her senses. A slick, crimson river trickled down her flushed face. The floor shifted into granules of sand and sediment. A hot, arid wind seared her flayed skin, the snap of a whip razing her backside. A suppressed scream threatened to claw its way from her lungs. Biting down hard on the flesh of her tongue, her resolve held firm, leaving small vessels inside her tongue permanently bruised from the force.

  "Get off the floor, you stupid girl! We have customers, and we need to make a profit!" Watto's shrill voice berated her in Basic, the tail end of his wing beating the air with urgency. The sound sliced through the ringing in her ears, pulling her back to the harsh reality...

"Officer Harlow!" Commander Stark voice pierced through the haze, bringing Ayen back to the surface while she collapsed to the floor. "You are being summoned to the overbridge, immediately."

The officer huffed, looking down at the technicians' quivering form. "Pathetic." Her lips cracked open with a sneer before she stomped away with a haughty sniff.

Ayen swallowed back the metallic tang coating her tongue. Drops of blood glistened on the duroncrete floors. I am not there. That is not reality. Steeling her nerves, a shadow fell over her.

  "I would kick that wench into next Centaxday."

Valara.

"Just help me stand," Ayen muttered quietly with a tremor in her voice, struggling to reorient herself. "I won't give them anymore of a show."

"Not on my watch girl, c'mon you could some water." Valara slipped her arm underneath Ayen's as support. The hush that had fallen over the room instantly dissolved once the officer made her departure.

  It would've given Ayen a palpable sense of relief, had she not envisioned the laughs being shared from live feeds fed to surveillance. Muttering a quick thanks to her colleague, Valara handed her water and a disposal towel from one of the RA-7 protocol droids. Wincing, she dabbed at the raw cut across one cheekbone, taking a quick swig of water once she dropped unto the bench.

"You missed Zev land a good blow on Mac. That boy could use an ego deflation." Valara smirked, glancing over at Ayen with an arched brow. Her luminous eyes softened when she noticed the small tremble in Ayen's hands."I can guess what just happened back there. If the threat of reeducation wasn't on the table, I'd take a cell block any time for a beatdown with that bitch for you."

"Somehow, I know." Ayen smiled small, eyes downcast, wiping at the sweat that glazed her forehead. It hadn't taken Valara long to discern from Ayen's demeanor and habits that she had once been enslaved on her home planet. Valara had never shared that knowledge with their colleagues, keeping the unspoken understanding between them. Since then, their kinship had deepened, forming a bond rooted in mutual respect and unwavering loyalty. "Thanks, V."

"No need to thank. It's a kriffing promise if we ever get put on a base together."

Ayen's lip quirked with a sliver of amusement.

"Now that I'd pay loads of credits to see," Mac chuckled as he dropped down beside Ayen, the familiar grey t-shirt stretched across his broad chest, drenched in sweat. One hand gripped his other arm, where a deep plum bruise had formed "I'd have a row with the broad myself, if I knew she wasn't more butch than me."

"Says the one who just got his arse handed to him." Zev tossed Mac a bottle of water, his shadowed stubble mirroring that of his twin, highlighting the sharp, contoured planes of his face. It spoke of just how early they'd been forced out of their sleepers that morning.

He shot Ayen a wink she was quick to ignore once he sat down, a slick strand of disheveled hair hanging between his cobalt eyes.

"Well, I can't say I'd mind a little tussle with spunky over here." Mac flashed a dimpled smile at Valara, scraping back his fair strands of hair. He bit the edge of his lip, chin tilted up in a playful gesture. Ever the confident guy, he had never made it a concerted effort to conceal his affection for the dark beauty.

Valara shook her head with a small snort, "Boy you are some kind of backwoods freak."

Mac's booming laugh resounded in answer.

"Cheer up doll," Zev nodded at Ayen with a crooked grin in an attempt to capture her attention yet again. "We are all getting our arses handed to us; they thrive off this torture."

  "Speaking of," Commander Sterling interjected, sliding in behind them with a gruff voice, wiping his bald head profusely. "I'd keep my rear in gear. Heard about Motti? The man looks like he's been through a meat grinder."

"Details dad." Valara grimaced, drawing out the vowel slightly. "I practically inhaled my last bottle of water."

"Heard he walks a little funny now and has a cane."

"Maybe because he got caned." Mac grinned humorously.

"Mac!" Both Valara and Ayen made sure to smack his bruised arm.

"Ah! Your guy's love speaks through my pain." Mac quipped, recoiling with a forced grin. "A joke lasses. Though, Zevvy, looks like our buddy is getting his arse kicked."

"Of course, and by a pretty bird." Zev shook his head in mock embarrassment.

Ayen glanced up just in time to see Luce land a powerful blow on Ceru, sending him crashing to the mat. Luce, her dark locks pulled into a high ponytail, flashed him a victorious smile. Her smooth, olive-toned hand extended to help him up, while Ceru's face flushed with a mix of exertion and embarrassment.

"I think the lad just became lovestruck," Mac muttered watching Luce head over with a confident stride.

"Kriffing hells, DeGwaye." Sterling dropped his head in his hand.

Ayen offered a sympathetic wince Ceru approaching them rather breathless. "She got a lucky shot," he responded, slapping his towel over one shoulder with a feigned air of nonchalance.

"Sure, mate." Mac and Zev chimed in unison with mirrored, deadpan stares.

They are going to give him so much druk tonight. Ayen crinkled her nose after Ceru eagerly leaped up to help unscrew the cap of Luce's water bottle.

She smiled in kind.

"Aaaand friendzoned." Mac smirked at his twin.

Ayen spoke up, saving him from further humiliation by the brothers, "Luce, thanks again for those soaps. They've really helped with my dry skin."

"Yeah, what kind of magic concoction you got in there anyways?" Valara inquired.

"Oh," Luce tucked a curled ebony strand behind her ear, large doe-like eyes reflecting a passionate zeal. "Moms originally from Thyferra where bacta originated. She's always experimented with different medicinal plants. You wouldn't believe the properties founded. I'm hoping to break into the labs if I stay here long enough. Clive's already put in a good word for me."

I'm sure that smooth-talking bucket head has...

Ayen's thoughts trailed off as a new commercial echoed in the hollow of her ears, seizing her attention. A familiar hooded figure appeared on the screen, flanked by the 501st Legion against a lurid backdrop.

"The New Order: Citizenship. Responsibility. Aaaand YOU!
BE THE FUTURE!"

  The scene commanded attention, pulling the naked eye back to the ominous figure at the center, wielding a deadly, fiery lightsaber that crackled with power.

  Vader.

A tangle of thoughts suddenly surged through every nerve ending, sparking memories she had long buried for the sake of work. It was like a floodgate had burst open, bombarding her with every tumultuous moment and feeling spent with the infamous Supreme Commander. Ayen could practically feel her lungs creak inward as she inhaled sharply, the weight of it all hitting her like a cement wall.

"Ayen!"

"Huh?"

Ayen blinked, leisurely coming out of her daze despite her mind feeling submerged in quicksand.

Zev had moved, now perched on the bench behind her, his neck craned to meet her gaze directly. "I've been calling your name for a minute, lass. You aren't still mad are you?"

Ayen glanced around her to see everyone else engaged in conversation much to her relief. "Zev," she started tightly, earlier anger stirring beneath the surface. "Not the time or place."

"Come off it already," he started with a groan. "I said I'd even share a couple of swigs with you."

Ayen leveled him with a stern glare feeling the tips of her ears heat. "You put Pike's life on the line yesterday by sneaking a bottle from a closed-down bar, swarming with ISB officials. And you did it using a keycard found in a corridor that wasn't meant for your usage or rank."

He huffed with a roll of his eyes, "Well sounds like they're opening up the place again—soon."

"Yeah, with imperial police that will be watching every damn move. You might've been caught on the feed and already jeopardized that."

"I assure you, love, I was careful. There was hardly any detail there."

"Zev, don't. You're just pissing me off."

"I say he could use a little kick to his overly confident ego." Valara who had long ended her conversation with Luce, shot Zev a firm reprimanding look.

"Ah," Mac who had just returned with an extra towel he handed to Valara, gestured with a forefinger to his brother pointedly. "See she's heard about your little stash, Zev. Now this, I'd love to see."

"You know what, Wittar? Let's see what you got," Valara said, smacking down her towel and heading to the mats.

Mac tossed his head back with a smile and followed. "Don't worry, love, I take it easy on beautiful women," he added with a wink.

  Ayen could see a small smirk play on her friends lips, a hint of flattery laced in her tone when she looked down, "Alright, Casanova, on the mat."

"What did I miss?" Ceru plopped down beside the spot Mac vacated.

"My daughter about to kick your friend's arse," Sterling answered.

Ceru grinned, a mischievous glint reminiscent of the brothers. "How much you want to bet on that Sterling?"

"50 credits."

"Done."

"What a hypocrite," Zev murmured with a bemused curl of his lip while watching his brother.

Ayen's brow rose, getting to her feet. "Yeah? To the mat, Zev. As your Lieutenant, that's an order."

  She didn't even wait for a response, rolling her shoulders in preparation while heading to the center.

.... ....

They locked eyes, circling each other like strike-vultures. What had started as a simple combat challenge had long since evolved. The tension and simmering emotions had transformed the fight into something far deeper than a mere brawl.

  The teasing had shifted from lighthearted jests to a hardened glint reflecting in an azure gaze. "So, how are private lessons with our notorious Sith going?"

That hit a nerve, dead center.

"Heard he's the best pilot in the galaxy," Zev continued. "You would know, wouldn't you?"

Mac, just a few feet away, toppled to the ground from Valara's pivot, while Ayen's muscles coiled like a spring. She launched herself at Zev, her anger fueling every movement. With a swift kick, she drove the sole of her boot into his midsection, the impact echoing with a resounding thud that filled the room.

  Zev staggered backward, swiping the lip he'd cut, his breath catching in his throat while struggling to regain balance. "Whoa, whoa careful of the family jewels, little tiger." He spit a bit of the sanguine fluid, flashing her a bloodied grin devoid of warmth.

"That's Lieutenant to you!"

The two of them clashed again, a whirlwind of motion, their bodies colliding in a symphony of grunts and blows.

"So impersonal, you're breaking my heart, little tiger."

"I'll break more than that, you call me tiger one more time!"

With every strike, the tension in the room escalated, the air practically crackling with raw energy. Ayen and Zev moved with fierce intensity, muscles straining to their limits. Each blow came harder, faster, as they pushed themselves to the brink. Their faces were etched with determination, neither willing to yield. The room buzzed with the ferocity of their battle, a fight for dominance where giving in simply wasn't an option.

Eventually, Zev had her pinned against his chest, his grip firm and unyielding. An intricate tattoo, often hidden beneath his uniform, adorned the muscled arm now hooked around her neck. "Give yet?"

Ayen was ready. "Keep dreaming, Wittar." She slammed the heel of her boot onto his toe and drove the butt of her elbow backward, making Zev's shoulders cave inward with a groan. It was just enough slack to slip out of his hold.  Dropping to the mat with her palm braced on the floor, she thrust her foot out, aiming to sweep his legs from under him.

It was too quick for Zev to evade, his back falling against the mat with a solid thwack!

Ayen was far from relenting. Needing to assert herself, she threw her entire weight unto him.

By now, the tension had eased from his muscles, the ice in his eyes thawing into a devious glimmer. "If you wanted top, love, all you had to do was ask." Laugh lines curved around his mouth as one brow arched in playful challenge.

"Oh, she is going to wipe the floor with his cocky arse." Sterling's voice reached her ears, not far from where their audience sat with apt attention.

She looked down at Zev, her gaze piercing through the facade of the jester, catching a flicker of seriousness beneath. Though his expression held a trace of levity, the depth in his eyes hinted at something more, speaking beyond mere amusement. "Ready to surrender?"

"Over my dead body." Before she could react, he moved with lightning speed. In a swift maneuver, he flipped her over, pinning her beneath him. The sudden shift in position caught her completely off guard, leaving her momentarily stunned while he hovered above, his grip firm.

The adrenaline ebbed, leaving muscles spent. Chests heaving with exertion, their breaths rose in near synchrony while they stared at each other, Mac whooping from the sidelines.

At that moment, the alarm blared, signaling the end of the session. At that moment, everything unfolded simultaneously, an ominous presence casting a ghostly shiver over her skin.

Oh... Sith spit.

She sensed him—a near-tangible, almost unnatural presence—before she even had the chance to lay eyes on the man who had since crept into her late-waking dreams. His malice seemed to coat the walls, a shadowy presence radiating an unmistakable iciness.

He stood at the very precipice of the room, his hooded cowl angled precisely a degree in her direction.

Vader.

Next chapter posted tomorrow. The showdown continues.

References
Star Wars Imperial Handbook: A Commanders Guide (2017). Lucasfilm Ltd.