[See end notes].

     【Ｌｏｃａｔｉｏｎ：

　 ＤＳ－１　Ｏｒｂｉｔａｌ

Ｂａｔｔｌｅ　Ｓｔａｔｉｏｎ

　Ｗｅｓｔ　ｓａｎｃｔｕｍ  

     Ｌｏｒｄ　Ｖａｄｅｒｓ　

        Ｑｕａｒｔｅｒｓ】

  IT FELT AS IF HER HEART REVERBERATED THROUGH THE SOLES upon each footfall. Through the labyrinthine halls of the DS-1 Orbital Battle Station, the contents in her stomach lurched with the blood pulsing hot and thick through her veins. She could feel the beads of perspiration break through the pores of her skin after sprinting to her quarters to change, and up to the west sanctum of the station.

The vented lights cast a sheen across the obsidian floors with a false sense of security. The hum of machinery quieted in the distance as the darkness encroached, leeching to the walls and drawing forth a chill that seeped into the threads of her shirt. It pebbled her skin, raising the hairs on the back of her neck.

There was no doubt where she was.

The very essence of the Sith Lord seemed forged in the durasteel. She rounded a bend with a hard swallow and came face to face with guards positioned by a wide-set door. These men were no average stormtroopers she realized with startling clarity.

Sleek bone-white armor with a high crest helmet and T-shaped visors; a squadron rumored to have been phased out of the Empire. The original, legendary clone troopers born on Kamino.

Lord Vader's Fist: The 1st or, the 501st.

His elite Legion.

This is not good. Oh skang. Kuy maņa chǔ. The statement flowed in her reclaimed tongue.

The clone trooper's stance raptly snapped to attention upon her entrance. "State your business."  A gloved hand tensed on the holster securing a pistol blaster. A masculine raspy edge hinted at age and lilted on the "a".

Cobalt markings embellished their chest plate with a visible superior rank. Ayen steeled herself. The muscle in her jaw clenched with her employer mask sliding into place, "Lieutenant Ayen. Imperial Technician from sub-hangar 1831, identification 0147. Here at the request of—your Supreme Commander."

The muscles in her neck became taut as a bow from the slip of formality while the superior trooper nodded to their adjacent partner. The crimson hand print on their shoulder plate gleamed alarmingly similar to a gelatinous substance.

Blood.

A subtle nod from his second-in-command conveyed they'd profiled her into their memory bank.

She imagined their lethal weapons turning on her for one nerve-wracking moment as she'd seen stormtroopers enact on Tatooine. She'd since become familiars with a few and no longer viewed them as such a threat.

The 501st she was unfamiliar with.

The one who'd verbalized assumed a laxer stance, stepping aside as a distinct crackle of their mic resounded, "Affirmative. Permission granted. Lieutenant, proceed."

Automatically she was nudged forward, the door sliding open with an ominous hiss before sealing her in complete darkness. Her eyes took a good minute to adjust. Lowly-set steel sconces drew shadows from their place illuminating an ostentatious... office. Obsidian furnishings blended with the dark ambiance, a high-backed leather chair reflecting a dominant leader's domain.

The expansive viewport ahead unveiled the vast galaxy. Cast in cold starlight stood a hooded figure at the center, feet anchored in a wide-legged posture.

Lord Vader.

He'd sensed her arrival, an imperceptible shift to his stance. Gloved hands folded neatly behind his back as if waiting for the breadth of the galaxy to hinge on his next move.

  "Did you think you could underestimate me?" His immediate words came slow, yet with a deliberate bite that sent a chill down her spine.

Her feet froze to the ground, a quake of emotion rippling through the air. The space served as the only protective barrier between them while an internal battle waged inside.

Did she feign awareness or submit to his unmistakable knowledge?

He knows...

"Don't," he sharply interceded, sensing the action of her lips parting. "Don't play me for a fool, Lieutenant. You prefer honesty. I expect the same in return. Lest you prefer a more severe recourse, to loosen your tongue."

Her stomach plummeted, sending little shocks through the nerves in her fingertips. Underestimating the Sith Lord had been a massive gaffe. "I," she began with a lick of chapped lips, a spell of dry mouth, "I meant no harm truly my... Lord."

"Then explain why you covered for Officer DeGwaye in each submitted report."

Though Lord Vader radiated intimidation, Ayen refused to be cowed like his other subordinates. She had earned her place here, and that conviction stirred within her. Slowly, a boldness crept to the surface, just as it had before while her heart beat raced. "Officer DeGwaye made mistakes, but his superior education has been invaluable to me. My comprehension was lacking; I struggled with basic reading skills—even Aurebesh—until his guidance. Please," she continued, her breath shaky but her gaze steadily upon him. "I ask you, extend to him the same mercy you once showed a lowly slave, my Lord."

"Tread carefully, Lieutenant." The thick tension could've been cut with a dulled blade, the tone he used bordering on a warning. "This situation is not alike. I do not easily forgive copious infractions you failed to report."

"I meant no disrespect," she replied, her voice tight with controlled tension, every word deliberate. "I— I fully accept my part in this." Her breath hitched ever so slightly as her teeth punctured the inside of her gum with a sting, the metallic tang of blood coating her tongue. Yet she forced herself to continue. "The officer's punishment... I take as my own."

His hooded visage slowly peered over one shoulder, seemingly attuned to the smell of bloodshed. Time held in suspension when those very eyes that scorched bore down on her. "Repetitive patterns will not be tolerated. You were chosen for a singular purpose as a tech: to repair and upgrade what is given to you, using the skills that make you valuable to this station. Sentimental drivel about subordinates has no place in my ranks, and it will not cloud your judgment. Do I make myself clear, Lieutenant?"

"Of course, tha—"

Her words ceased as leather-clad fingers firmly encircled her neck.

  How did he...?

  Her thoughts trailed off when a cool breath as the shadows that breathed, rolled off the nape of her neck from behind. Every nerve ending stood on edge like a livewire. The atmosphere thickened, drawing out a vaporous breath that echoed his malevolence. This debacle had—entirely—shifted in his favor.

His formidable presence seized her confidence as his hands that wielded the power to crush a life force tightened inexorably. The whisper of his lips barely grazed the shell of her ear as he gritted out,

"Kneel, Lieutenant."

His assertive baritone drawled out each syllable and elicited a shudder that amplified every sense. From every breath that parted his lips, to the sharp hint of ozone emitting off the apparatus of equipment in the room. Down to the flickering lights in sync with the volatile thrum of her pulse.

She squeezed her eyes shut. To placate the tight leash on his temperament she angled her knees, her legs folding in as she lowered to the ground.

There was a subtle shift to his grip once she acquiesced to his dictation. "Loyalty is considered invaluable to a Master. A rarity that is crucial as obedience. So, tell me, Lieutenant," He emphasized the 'tuh'. "Are you willing to yield to your Supreme Commander? Speak freely."

A loosed hair brushed the slope of her nose with a deliberated exhale of words, "My faction relies on me to lead. Every shipment prioritized is inspected thoroughly in our hangar. Those found to have malfunctions or damages, as you've stated, are cargoed to us. This is rectified immediately before it is sent out." She kept her voice even knowing he was testing her. "Every report that crosses your desk is accurate."

"It does not absolve one of the consequences and Officer DeGwaye is no exception." His tone grew colder, each word dripping with menace. "I demand discipline and accountability from my subordinates. You are to execute your duties without hesitation or error." His grip tensed infinitesimally, his voice lowering to a dangerous calm to her counterplea."Do not test my patience again... Rise, Lieutenant."

Shakily, she rose from her place, sensing him back away and relinquishing his grip. She regained her verticality, suppressing the low ache in her throat.

"I am not asking this time, Lieutenant," Vader's voice was sharp, final, brooking no argument. "Yield."

"My Lord," Turning to face the capricious Sith Lord, her hands raised in a gesture of supplication. "Please." Without question he demanded her submission, prompting her to avoid direct eye contact or she would've buckled under pressure. "I'm not asking for leniency. This officer, while ignorant was recruited for his notable work on his home world and remains ever loyal to our cause, which is equally valuable, is it not?"

"It's a double-edged sword, loyalty." He surmised. "It can bind you to greatness or be the instrument of your downfall. Your technical prowess while harnessed, must remain within the confines of absolute obedience."

She felt warm, frustrated tears swell unexpectedly, gripped with a severe sense of urgency. Instinctively she sensed this was her last opportunity, Ceru's fate imminent. "I won't fail you," she vowed, her voice trembling with desperation before the words even escaped her lips. "Please... I beg for clemency, my Lord. Spare him."

"You will learn the true meaning of discipline in the days to follow." His voice raised a sharp octave. "Either rise as an asset in the Empire, or crumble under the weight of your failures."

She swallowed feeling the magnetism in his voice—both a punishment wrapped in a twisted form of guidance. "I understand, Lord Vader." She stepped forward, every breath tethered to his will, a vulnerability slipping through the cracks of her composure. "I'd never take my position for granted for what it affords me, My Lord. I... I can only implore you to please, consider my plea."

The weight of reality settled in her chest like a ferroconcrete block. She knew she was dangerously close to overstepping, pushing him further than anyone would dare live long enough to breathe. But she would endure his full wrath if it meant Ceru would live.

There was a subtle shift to atmosphere that loosened its suffocating grip on her nerves. The tension that had coiled around her like a vice began to unwind, almost disorienting in its sudden release. Still she braced for the weight of his next words.

His cowl tilted ever so slightly. "Very well." His tone, though less frigid, carried the weight of authority. "Consider this a rare generosity, not lightly granted."

Thank the stars... Ceru's going to live.

Relief surged through her, a well of emotions she fought to keep hidden. She struggled to tamp it down right as his leather-clad finger curled beneath her chin, lifting her gaze to meet his. "Do not mistake my generosity for leniency. Next time, I will not be so forgiving. Your conduct remains under scrutiny. Once your punishment is decided, I will summon you."

She could faintly make out the angular curve of a jaw beneath the heavily draped cowl. In the dim light, his molten amber eyes held her attention, commanding her's entirely. Her eyes shone in relief, while his implored unwavering focus, her wavering gaze a habitual struggle he was determined to rectify.

  "Tah chayta," he began in a smooth tone, crossing from the realm of formality into a deep guttural resonance, "nuqanchipka tuykuna sa konchee chiqap kallpa sa tarisqa'."

To embrace our shadows is where true strength is found.

The words rolled off his tongue with a distinct inflection that set her curiosity aflame. Wait... that's Huttese... That cadence—the casual way in which his words flowed. Only someone from her homeworld could possess such fluency. He'd used it once before but now, it was unmistakable.

  He... was one of them.

Yet, he'd already pulled away before she could fully process this revelation. Not that she would ever voice it—doing so would be beyond foolish, especially after he'd just spared her friend.

The fact he was from Tatooine only heightened the lingering curiosity she had tried to suppress since he freed her shackles. With this new knowledge, the mystery surrounding him deepened, and the temptation of unraveling the man before her beckoned.

Unbeknownst to her, it would bring her deeper into his web of influence.

With a flourish of his hand, the door flew open in cold dismissal. His parting words were laced with a sharp severity, "Remember, failure is not an option, Lieutenant. Heed this warning, wisely."

Index

Durasteel: A type of steel used in the Star Wars universe. This is used to build ships, droids, it can also be furniture. The Death Star had tons of durasteel as its elements are forged to withstand extensive damage and was a very handy material.

Aurebesh: the alphabet in Star Wars for Basic. Because Ayen was a slave she did not have an education. Many things she learned on her own which you will come to see. However as explained her reading comprehension Ceru assisted with in improving.

Huttese: Ayen uses as her native dialect. It had various different languages mixed when it came to creating the Huttese dialect such as Quechua. Ben Burt the sound designer made up lingos too. George Lucas was also known to add his own dialogue for the language.

Wermo: Huttese insult for stupid.