Oh man, this was a challenging chapter because I really wanted to stay true to his character but move things forward. I truly hope I was able to demonstrate that correctly in this.

This is the ship scene before Coruscant since many of you were open to this.

Love you x

[Ｌｏｃａｔｉｏｎ：

Ｈｙｐｅｒｓｐａｃｅ

Ｌｏｒｄ Ｖａｄｅｒｓ
Ｌａｍｂｄａ－ｃｌａｓｓ
Ｓｈｕｔｔｌｅ

Ｇａｌｌｅｙ ｒｏｏｍ]

A  Y  E  N

HYPERSPACE SURPASSED ANY PRECONCEIVED IDEA SHE HAD. It was like the stars shrunk into tiny pin points of light before the ship was forcefully suctioned into its gravitational pull with blinding intensity. Dazzling ribbons of color left her in awe, while the ship hurtled through the cosmic abyss at incomprehensible speeds.

   "Too bad this ship doesn't come with a Sabacc table."

"Why? Hoping to kick your brother's arse at a round?"

"Actually, darl, I was hoping to kick yours."

"Still sour about being bested on the mat, Wittar?"

"No love that was simply foreplay." Mac flashed Valara a teasing smirk. He drummed his fingers on the scratched-up table, its worn surface bearing the marks of countless excursions.  It served as a corner booth, accompanied by a sleek bench the five were seated on.

Underneath, Mac's knee bounced agitatedly, a restlessness being in the confined space of the Lord Vader's Lambda-class shuttle. Zev placed a hand on his twin's leg to quell the subconscious motion, while Mac took another swig of water.

"Quite impressive, isn't it? At least we can grab a quick bite before meeting the bloody Emperor." He raised a tin cup in a mock salute. "Cheers."

"This customized room surprises you how? Boy, go back through your handbook and look at the hierarchy." Valara shook her head with a quirk of her lip, coiling her ebony braided hair into a tight bun. "Vader is a Sith Lord. He has credits up the arse."

"Well I'm taking résumés.Would you be applying for the personal position of said librarian?" Mac quipped with an upraised brow. A floss pick was pointed in her direction with one inquisitive eye from beneath his cap. "A private lesson, glasses and all?"

"How you guys haven't banged it out yet astounds me," Zev shook his head, crumpling up a ration bar wrapper in a tight fist.

Dim overhead lighting cast their shadows across the floors, the walls adorned with sleek black panels to accommodate the customized galley. A small countertop of durasteel ran along the opposite wall, housing a compact food synthesizer supplied with ration bars. Adjacent, was a dispenser for purified water plugged into a power cell; a refresher for the short excursions.

Efficiency and a penchant for order, like Vader.

"Someone got on the wrong side of the sleeper this morning." Mac muttered, passing a glance at Ayen. He gestured with a tilt of his head toward Ceru, who had started to nod off beside him, his cap crooked to the side.

"Sod off," Zev murmured grumpily. He reached up to itch a spot beneath his brim, before scrubbing a hand down his face with an exasperated groan.

  Ayen insisted Ceru retire to the passenger hold after they managed to wake their comrade before they reached the Core Worlds. He nearly ran into the door, and Mac stifled a chortle against one arm, Ayen dropping her head with a small smile but her brow furrowed.

Her thoughts remained frustratingly scattered, while the crescent of her nail ticked against the tin bottle Zev had gifted her. With a final sigh, she shoved herself out of her seat, ignoring the eyes that followed her to the small viewport several feet away. It was mesmerizing—the expanse of space, warped by the distortion of stars pulled within the vessel's gravitational field.

Her arms consciously folded tightly across her chest, taking a step to the side after Zev joined her.

She glanced up as he towered over, the sapphiric hue outlining his broad form, casting a reflective gleam in his shadowed gaze. His voice took on a deep tenor as they stood there. "The first time I ever saw hyperspace I couldn't get enough. Mac and I, we drove our mum mad," He laughed softly with a shake of his head. "We'd take Pop's skiff on wild excursions before the Empire set up the blockades. Of course, that was before the Academy."

A hushed laugh broke through her lips. "Why does that not surprise me."

  He looked at her, eyes soft. "You'd like Mum; she's quite the firecracker. Always kept our arses in line, though we're definitely the cause of her grays. Makes a wicked meal, though."

  Ayen smirked, imagining the matron raising the troublesome twins. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Mac and Valara engrossed in a thumb war challenge, testing the strength of their hands in a playful wrestling match.

  "Alright if I get this round, I escort you to the gala—if permitted. But," Mac held up a finger, "if I lose... I escort you to the gala."

Valara cracked a laugh, brow raised. "You call that a wager?" Her voice rose an octave, eyes wide with incredulity. "Where's the catch?"

"Exactly, it's a win-win. That's the catch, love, do keep up."

"Just when I think I've figured you out."

"That would be like trying to solve a simulation cube. My mum quit ages ago, hence this game."

Ayen squeezed her eyes shut unable to contain the quiet burst of laugher, a mix between a squeak and chuckle.

Zev chuckled, amused by the unexpected outburst. "How much you want to bet they get sloshed and snog it out after the gala, A?"

"Zev," Ayen emphasized with a roll of her eyes, "Valara would sooner kiss a Lothcat."

"Oh, c'mon," Zev bent down, leveling her with a pointed look. "You're not daft—she's totally mad for him. Barracks party ring a bell?"

"'Fraid I've passed up those invitations."

Zev leaned back a tilted smirk lifting the corner of his lip. "Because of past antics with said troopers?"

Ayen grimaced with a wince recalling those less finer moments. "If you're talking about Clive, I never gave him the time of day."

Zev laughed softly. He shrugged and crossed his arms against his uniformed chest. "Best skip the punch bowl to avoid a repeat of past said antics, then." He flashed her a sardonic grin. "Wouldn't want to snog a senator would you, A, or Vader's troopers. Course I've heard they're quite the catch if you get 'em. You'd be doing those monks an honor."

All pretense of humor suddenly drained from Ayen's face, Zev taking note of her expression as the lights flickered. Her eyes darted to the door and it felt like less than a nanosecond the distance had dramatically shrunk. Like an instinctual whisper she knew Vader had just become aware, Mac and Valaras conversation dying off as the atmosphere plunged several degrees.

"Ayen..." A crease formed between Zev's brow. "Is—"

  "Zev, shut up." Ayen's head snapped to the door, a resonant sound like thunder echoing through the cabin. Every limb in her body stood at attention, fists clenched at her sides.

Oh, kriff.

The air in the shuttle thickened, charged with an ominous energy that permeated every corner of the cramped space. It felt like her veins had been infused with ice, her breath catching in her throat.

"Shit." Her gaze darted towards Zev with a mixture of fear and frustration. "You better pray to whatever gods right now."

A muscle ticked in Zevs jaw, "What do you—"

But his words were cut short, a series of heavy footsteps reverberating through the neck of the ship. Shadows slithered menacingly into the dim light, casting eerie shapes against the walls.

The door to the cockpit slid open with a hiss, revealing the imposing figure of Darth Vader.

  The Sith Lord's hooded cloak snapped sharply behind his boots, Zev slammed against the wall with a bone-crushing force, the sickening crunch reverberating in Ayen's ears.

   "Forget your place on the food chain?" Vader's voice cut through the air with a thunderous roar, each word seething with disdain. "I've had enough of your fucking lack of conduct, officer."

His hooded gaze burned into Zev, unwavering and feral. The sheer malice radiating from him left no room for doubt—he was a storm of fury, yanking Zev forward with the ease of a ragdoll and slamming him against the panels. "I should crush your skull into dust, and fuse your remains into a fucking relic on my shelf."

  He bared his teeth, his gloved hand locked like a vice around Zev's throat who managed to choke out a ragged, desperate breath.

Ayen's heart hammered in her chest, Vader's voice a venomous blend of mockery and malice as he grit out, "Where's that cocky bravado now, Zev? How you've dared to underestimate me for far too long."

Zev's face contorted in pain, his flesh slowly bruising over and bloodshot eyes, yet, upholding an icy front. His nostrils flared with labored breaths, a challenge etched in his gaze.

A silent refusal to yield.

  "Dare to mock me now?" Vader spat with a feral snarl as he continued, "Every single one of your pathetic thoughts— those that involve your Lieutenant."

  Each syllable cut through the silence like a blade, twisting deeper with every word, a cruel prelude to the storm of Vader's wrath that loomed, inevitable and merciless, sealing Zev's fate.

"Ayen, do something! He's going to kill him!"

  Mac's hand had instinctually shot out to shield Valara, her nails embedded into his shoulder while he positioned himself like a human shield. His eyes strikingly similar to his twins, were wide with genuine fear for his brother.

  Those cerulean depths pierced her with raw emotion.

Ayen's mind raced, grappling with the magnitude of the situation. This wasn't just an officer or lower-level personnel. This was the Darth Vader. The Head of the entire operational front of the Empire, next to the Emperor himself.

It would take a miracle to pull Zev from Vader's line of fire now. She could already hear him wheezing, struggling to draw in the last pocket of oxygen.

Panic tightened its grip around her chest.

  "Lord Vader, stop!" Acting on impulse, Ayen threw herself between the two like a buffer, arms outstretched. "Release him, please. This has gone on far enough."

Vader's gaze snapped to Ayen, his eyes ablaze with fury at her audacity.

  Yet Ayen stood her ground, planting her feet firmly, determined to show she wouldn't back down. She knew the danger, but this was a line she couldn't afford to cross.

"You dare defy me, Lieutenant?" His voice lowered imperceptibly;, deadly warning. "Forget your place...?"

"Careful, Ayen," Valara's voice practically screamed of caution.

Yet Ayen met Vader's avenging eyes with equal fervor. "I serve the Empire, and I serve you," she declared, her voice steady. She raised her chin and took a breath, her hand trembling slightly as she slowly, cautiously extended her arm, bridging the dangerous distance between them. Her fingers spread out upon his chest, the cool leather tabards pressing against her palm.

"You've had your vengeance," she said, her voice low but firm. "The Emperor requested all of us, did he not?" She angled her head, her tone turning imploring. "He is no threat. Let. Him. Go."

Each word hung in the charged air between them, a desperate plea, but also a command wrapped in respect. Their eyes remained locked in a silent warring battle, her breath floating before her like a spectral apparition with time agonizingly stretching between them.

Yet, Ayen didn't move.

  Then, with a sharp flick of wrist, Vader relinquished his grip, Zev crumpling to the floor with a strangled gasp.

Ayen's hand slowly fell away, stepping back while Mac and Valara rushed to Zev's aid.

"Valara," Mac's voice took on an authoritative manner, now all business, "grab him some water—Zev!" He dropped to the ground, cradling his twins head as Zev rasped. Blood trickled down the side of his temple, staining the bleached tresses.

  "Reconvene in the weapons storage room," Vader growled, leaning in just enough for his voice to brush her ear. "That's an order, Lieutenant."

Ayen met his gaze head on acknowledging his directive with a subtle nod, motioning for Mac to retrieve the bacta spray she kept in a pocket.

Mac complied, swiftly returning to tend to Zev's fragile state.

Vader's cloak swept across the floor without a single ounce of remorse and stalked out of the room.

Ayen turned back to Zev who lay battered and bruised on the floor. Half-lidded eyes met hers with a mixture of pain and defiance, his lips ajar. "Ayen—" he rasped, a hint of regret in the bow of his brow.

"Don't," she grit out with a firm shake of her head, her expression hardening with an authoritive resolve. "You've gone too far this time."

With a determined tilt of her chin, she strode from the room.

It was a short trek through the dimly lit corridors, her polished boots echoing against the narrow walls as they widened to accommodate the passenger hold. Ceru was sprawled across one of the assigned seats, his head tilted awkwardly against the starboard bench in the odd sleeping position he'd adopted. Visible drool dribbled from one side of his lips while his snores echoed in the hold.

Ayen spared him but a fleeting glance, his soft features highlighted in the ambient lighting. A pang of guilt tugged at her heart but she pressed on, her impending confrontation with Vader bearing down upon her shoulders like a leaden weight. It was up to her to remedy the damage.

She could feel her nerves tighten like a steel coiled spring once she keyed into the security panel to the weapons storage room. The doors sealed behind her with an ominous finality.

Straight into an oppressive atmosphere.

The stench of metal and ozone was pungent. Rows of sleek black crates flanked her on either side stamped with arsenal insignias. Her fingertips shakingly skimmed the marked artillery as if prolonging the inevitable while she navigated through the maze. As a metallic clang reverberated Ayen jumped, her senses undoubtedly, on edge. The ship systems churned through the regulations of temperature, a cool breeze sweeping across her exposed neck, brushing back the few hairs loosed from her chignon. Venturing deeper into the shadowed alcove, the steady thrum of the ventilation shafts echoed with the air quality recycling.

Nearly blending into the darkness of his own making, she found Vader waiting in the shadows.

Ayen swallowed, hard, summoning her last vestige of courage with a clenched jaw. Stepping into the enclosed space, the brim of her cap shielded her from his penetrating gaze—a gaze she knew would see through the cracks of her vulnerable state.

Slowly his hooded cowl rose, those eyes particularly luminous within the shroud of shadows. Massive arms crossed against a broad chest and the aura of dominance in which he exuded, sent Ayen's thoughts reeling back to the first time she'd ever laid eyes upon the Sith Lord.

Ayen acknowledged him first with a subtle tenuous bow of her head.

Her address to him spoke like a translation that was reciprocated less than a second later. "Are you aware of how many men I've disposed of in this month alone?" The low baritone of his voice came sharp and rivaled the silence to the degree he used. "Speak, Lieutenant."

Ayen turned her head a fraction to the side, apprehensive muscles tensed beneath her stiff uniform. "I can only estimate." Her gaze remained unwavering beneath the cap's shadowed brim, a subtle declaration she was unwilling to back down.

"One hundred and twenty-six. Ask me why that is, Lieutenant."

Ayen steeled herself, her lips parting in response. She kept the cadence of her voice steady, aware the direction this headed. "Disobedience or—"

  "Going AWOL," Vader interrupted, his voice sharp and unyielding. His eyes burned like flint, sparking with barely restrained fury. "Defying, disrespecting, or committing direct insubordination to the Supreme Commander, Darth Vader. Not a single living soul has ever survived such an indiscretion." He took a deliberate step closer, his presence oppressive, his voice rumbling like raucous crack of thunder. "So, Lieutenant, you tell me—why is your pathetic excuse of an officer, whose life I could crush without a moment's hesitation, still breathing?"

Ayen forced another breath through her nose, the very air impossibly thinned. Squaring her chin, she hardened her stance, summoning every ounce of resilience. "Because he is an integral part of my team. You can't afford to lose a technician like him."

"Oh really?" Shadows carved out his chiseled jawline and those mercurial eyes betrayed his temper that flared like a struck match. "Your defiance is truly astounding," he hissed. "Do you know what desires that insolent fool harbors?" He took a step forward, amplifying the electric tension in the sliver of space weighted with contempt. "Thoughts he dares not speak aloud if he values the insipid life you're so desperate to preserve?"

"N-No," Ayen's breath stammered, her lips falling ajar, the walls of her throat seemingly charred as his lips barely brushed the shell of her ear. It sent a searing heat through her, erecting every nerve ending, leaving her with hardly a semblance of clarity.

In an instant, Ayen was pinned against the wall of crates.

"I do," He practically shaped the words against her heated skin, thumb placed within the quivering hollow of her throat while she grappled with his use of the Force. "I know his every thought, his pathetic desires for a woman he can't have... and he knows it."

He seized her hands with unrelenting force, the supple leather of his gloves pressing against her perspired skin.

Ayen sucked in a breath through gritted teeth as his fingers intertwined with hers. The strength wielded in his hands, evoked a spark of desire that passed in their touch with he entrapping their hands on either side of her head.

Heat surged through her blood like wildfire, snaking its way through her veins, causing her heart to pound with visceral force.

  His hot breath swept across the nape of her neck.  "Ask me, Lieutenant..." he murmured, his voice laden with a dark, gravely edge. "What would push me to the edge of reason...?"

Their chests now rose in near synchronization, each breath drawing them closer.

  Ayen squeezed her eyes shut, drawing in a deep breath, fighting to anchor the tempest of emotions he had stirred within her. The lines between them were beginning to blur—she could feel it in their body language, the unspoken tension hanging heavy in the air. The stakes were far higher than in any of their previous confrontations. This felt like uncharted and dangerous territory.

  "Y-You said never to bait you," she stammered, the fragility of her words, cracking at the end. "Yet now you're goading me."

I won't be made a fool again.

   Vader's lip curled upon reading her thoughts, the fiery depths of his eyes blazing with intensity. "There's that resilience," he whispered, his warm breath ghosting across her lips. He leaned closer, the cleft of his chin dipping just slightly, his nose nearly grazing hers.

  With a calculated motion, her cap was knocked away, leaving her utterly exposed.

  "When barriers are eradicated, Lieutenant Ayen," he drawled, each syllable dripping with deliberate sensuality, his tongue curling over her name like a lingering threat. "Even the strongest of wills can be broken."

  A fleeting fissure of vulnerability flickered in her eyes, the insinuated push and pull between them daring her to refute this. Yet it was swiftly overshadowed by the hard set of her brow. "Is that a challenge?" she asked sharply.

"I don't need to read your every thought," Vader's voice was low, cutting through the tension with a commanding undertone. "The quickening of your pulse, that slow, steady inhale..." He paused, his words deliberate, savoring the shallow rhythm of her breaths as his tone turned indulgent. "Yes, just like that while your breaths quicken..."

He gently pressed her head back using the weight of his chin, forcing her gaze upward. "The depression in your knees, ready to buckle..." The words spilled from his lips and left a trail of heat beneath the hollow of her ear.

  Her voice trembled suddenly feeling breathless, "I-I won't be a pawn in this... this twisted game."

"Is that what this is, Lieutenant?" His voice had taken on a subtle rasp. "A game? The stakes high, the rules ever changing..." His intoxicating presence was laced with notes of nightfall, enveloping her senses, "Between the master and novice?"

Ayen felt a slow heat pool low in her abdomen, seemingly fixated on his every word through half-lidded eyes. Each syllable dripped of a sensuality and rivaled the last remnants of her poise she struggled to hold. "I... I won't be a fool..."

"I know you feel it." A primal hunger simmered just beneath the surface of his tone. "A hunger that burns, consuming your every thought," he continued, each word a lure pulling her closer to the precipice. "To drive you to the razor's edge of temptation..."

"What do you w-want?" she whispered, the stubborn flicker of defiance tempering under his dominance.

"To not feel your every breath," he growled, his words raw and laced with carnality. The leather-clad fingers of his hand slid deliberately between hers, the movement slow, calculated. "The spicy-sweet scent of your signature..." His voice dropped to a rough whisper. "It's enough to slowly drive a man fucking insane."

"I... I can't..." Ayen stammered, her voice barely a whisper while struggling to form a coherent thought, every sense overstimulated. The air between them seemed to hum with an unbearable tension—until she was struck by a sudden, electrifying wave of pleasure.

With the subtlest pressure, his parted, wetted lips—almost hesitant—dragged over the sensitive pulse in her neck in response.

The whimper escaped her lips, unbidden and raw, Vader's head tilting closer, his breath hot against her skin. In a low, guttural voice that sent a chill down her spine, words rolled off his tongue in fluent Huttese, dark and commanding, "Ka rinta mah wa minay, Ayen."

  The way he shaped her name, steeped in the velvety cadence of ancient tongue, resonated through her like a living pulse.

Ayen slowly looked up her eyes widening a fraction.

  Seconds later, the tension between them was shattered by the chime of his commlink.

It was CT-7567—Captain Rex, which she'd come to know. The clone trooper, assigned as a formal escort to the Supreme Commander, spoke with crisp efficiency. "Lord Vader, we're about to drop out of hyperspace," Rex informed, his voice steady and professional despite the atmosphere thickening on the other end of the comm.

Vader's gaze lingered on Ayen for a heartbeat longer, the weight of his presence still suffocating, before he straightened, his demeanor shifting back to the Commander.

Ayen flexed her fingers, desperate to ground herself and drag her mind back to the present.

  "We've not finished here, Lieutenant," he said, his voice quiet but cutting, his chin lifting with a deliberate edge. "Consider this conversation simply delayed."

Ayen was still gathering herself, adjusting her imperial uniform, which suddenly felt far too constricting after his departure. A distinct tremor ran through her hands as she retrieved her cap, adjusting it accordingly. She breathed out a slow, steady breath before buckling to the ground. Elbows braced on her knees, she folded her hands behind her neck.

  "Oh, Corellians hell..."

I am so curious to know what you guys think lend me all the thoughts. *Wipes forehead with rag* Phew.