AND HERE WE GO! Much more to come.

Enjoy.🤍

【Ｌｏｃａｔｉｏｎ：

ＤＳ－１　Ｏｒｂｉｔａｌ　

Ｂａｔｔｌｅ

Ｓｔａｔｉｏｎ

Ｗｅｓｔ　ｓａｎｃｔｕｍ

Ｌｏｒｄ　Ｖａｄｅｒ＇ｓ

Ｑｕａｒｔｅｒｓ　

Ｒｅｓｔｒｉｃｔｅｄ

ｃｈａｍｂｅｒ' ｓ】

HAILING FROM THE OUTER RIM WHILE AN INDENTURED SLAVE, her education primarily centered on the outlanders and pilots who frequented Mos Espa. The peddling of goods still echoed from sentients shouting their wares for profit in the bustling hubs. She had mastered the art of haggling in the markets and bargaining with the most unsavory characters using her street smarts. She learned to ascertain wielding a tool, how alloy was welded, and the best ways to work a customer to her advantage.

She'd learn the silent language through a communicative network used by miners that lost their hearing in the depths of underground mines. The signs and gestures formed by their hands in the cantinas they'd frequent employed as a covert code in dire situations.

Yet for all her expertise, there was one domain that remained a realm of mystique when it came to the complexities surrounding the Jedi and Sith. She hadn't nearly been prepared for what the future held, left to garner merely nuggets of information on such beings which seemed woefully inadequate now. She wasn't versed in the cosmic intricacies of destiny or the embodiment of The Force. But it had chosen her as its recipient, bestowing upon her the worst luck in the entire galaxy.

  Yet again, she found herself face-to face with the living embodiment of darkness and malevolence with a Sith Lord.

Mentally she was signing the words, I am in such deep shit. Mee am su noleeya 'e poodoo.

  The tautness of her muscles had become lax, the usual nerves cut from their steel-coiled spring while the thoughts in her head quieted. Her head tilted loftily to the side, her lip folding under her front teeth.

What did she say?

"Honesty in your case would be the best policy." He stalked towards his ship, boots resounding with a hard clap. She'd braced for the storm but was taken aback by a palpable annoyance, visible in the slight tilt of his hooded cowl while inspecting the Lambda-class shuttle.

The liquor had softened her sharp senses, her lips slack before she launched into an uninhibited monologue to the Sith Lord. "The double cannon lasers were a little more complex than the Sentinel model because that ship was more simplistic. But new slots were installed in your ship, so there should be no issue firing up the energy cells once in use. I just need to check the focusing lens, so the concentrated beam of the laser—

"Lieutenant?"

"Yes?"

"Shut. Up."

"I—oh." Her brows furrowed at the abrupt order, but she didn't press further. Immediately she headed for the set of blaring lights flashing above the blast door. The exit was a mint opportunity to escape while the neutrality of his mood remained—before the whiskey took her complete competence and her punishment, severe.

"The recoil dampeners to stabilize the cannons, they are reported to be in the cargo delivered tomorrow?" A wintry breath tickled the shell of her ear, nearly causing her to jump out of her skin as she spun around. He was directly behind her.

"Holy sh—yeah," she quickly corrected. How in the Sith's hell was he doing that? She withdrew the fist clenched at her chest. Damn her reflexes. Her tongue was far too loose making her self-awareness plummet by the second. She swallowed as his arms crossed and her mind scraped for the last details received. "I mean yes, my Lord. Cygnus Spaceworks manufacturer had a delayed shipment due to your model being brand new. We're to receive the parts tomorrow."

"Hmm," he nodded albeit slowly, his arms unfolding. His gloved hands settled on the utility belt beneath his cloak. "Were you going somewhere, Lieutenant?"

She sensed his underlying
displeasure almost immediately. "Just to clean up. I was coming back," she insisted with a slight drag on the vowel.

"It will have to wait," he replied his tone firm, leaving no room for questioning. "I've come to collect on our arrangement."

She was regrettably far bolder, the alcohol and lack of sleep fueling a rare recklessness. "I'm rank and need a shower." Even though the small, sober part of her brain screamed retreat, an exaggerated huff slipped past her lips. "I'm still a human being."

Instantaneously the atmosphere shifted, the last remnants of warmth sapped like a sponge. The Sith straightened up, broad shoulders erect. "Are you questioning my authority, Lieutenant?" He towered over her like the fearsome Commander renowned for razing entire planets. "Because I would consider my next course of action very carefully."

There was no doubt the depth of his conviction. His words pierced through the haze of her subconscious like a spear. With a hard clench of her jaw she blinked, "No of course," she forced out as if it would anchor her lack of sobriety, "forgive me. Lead the way, sir, I mean—my Lord."

"Thin ice, Lieutenant," the Sith growled out. His cloak whipped behind him as he turned and stalked out of the hangar.

  Ayen didn't dare press her limits. Maintaining a cautious distance, she unwillingly followed in his wake.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, the underlying nerves persisting despite her drunken stupor while he led her deeper into the passages of the battle station. She'd lost track after the countless lifts and bends, the lights gradually dimming. Uncannily, they hadn't encountered a single soul.

These had to be restricted areas or a back unguarded channel. That appeared to be the case, the surveillance holo cams becoming more prevalent. At the end of the corridor, he punched a code into a control panel, the large door before them sliding open. The familiarity of the area registered with the high-backed leather chair and large viewport showcasing the galaxy laced with billions of stars.

    She was then led into a separate wing off from his office. He pressed a gloved hand against a vibrant red pad on the wall. RESTRICTED ACCESS flashed across the identification screen before the door flew open, unveiling the smaller chamber.

The monochrome walls were embellished with several shelving units, cast in a crimson luminosity beneath the various objects displayed. A small transparisteel window on the far wall subtly tempered the lighting in silver starlight.

A scalloped couch and armchairs were centered in the room, the metallic accents harmonized with the minuscule décor.  

"Sit," he gestured to the couch, which, upon closer inspection, was made of fine Woccalf leather. It was cold, even through the thick jumpsuit, but cushioned her effortlessly.

He settled into the high-backed chair across from her, several data pads from the coffee table tossed aside, intent on securing her full attention. He leaned back into the stiff cushion, a gloved hand placed upon the armrest as if he sat on a throne.

A chin was just barely discernible beneath his hood, and the words tumbled out of her mouth before her mind could register. "How can you honestly see beneath those layers?"

Kriff, she was thoroughly juiced.

He didn't say anything for a moment, struck by her blatant lack of filter. "Lieutenant," he warned needing no further elaboration. None of his subordinates would've dared such insolence if they valued their lives.

She cursed inwardly for the one time she chose to indulge herself. She was the ideal holoreality for whatever omnipresent force watched over her. Her fingers twisted in her lap. "I'm... sorry." She shook her head, exasperated. "I haven't slept much. I just needed a little reprieve after working my arse off—"

"Where are your men?"

"I—what?"

He'd said it with such a casual flair that she'd almost missed the dominant undertone.

"Surveillance reports of two officers seen on the eastern levels near the barracks. Officers Wittar. An educated guess, would place Officer DeGwaye within the vicinity."

Oh, Hutt spawn.

"Captain TK-423 has the fierfek testosterone of a Zeltron but remains skillfully tactic in battle. He would've, otherwise, been disposed the moment this unit's celebratory efforts were founded."

"I—"

"I am the Supreme Commander both on and off the field, Lieutenant. I know far more than what is credited to me. If I desired, it would be ended just as swiftly."

She was nearly dumbstruck by the revelation. He truly was the iron fist in every sense of the word. "That's... so this wasn't reported to headquarters...?"

He scoffed with an air of arrogance. "No. I'm not ignorant to basic human needs. It's not droids I rely on to keep order. It's the overindulgence that will not be tolerated."

Which meant that, in times past, he must've witnessed her own escapades with those troopers. The sheer lack of privacy caused the tips of her ears to burn. Did that mean ISB already had a record on her?

Of all the nine Corellian hells...

"Is this... why you brought me here?"

"No."

Oh, bantha poodoo.

"I can see you're struggling to keep track of this conversation, so let me make this crystal clear." His dark shroud loomed over her, the the air around them chilled.  "You work under my command, in my precinct. Under my recruitment, you're my responsibility when such druk hits the fan. In the time you've been employed on this station, you've undermined an ISB officer, had your own team botch jobs costing numbers, and you've gotten drunk while on assignment. That's double insubordination, Lieutenant. I've disposed of officers for far less."

She swallowed hard, trying to digest the weight of his words as her fingers curled against her abdomen. She'd already said she accepted her punishment—surely it wasn't this? "Well, n-no ship has left my... hangar impaired, sir." A disgruntled snort escaped her, and in a flash of humiliation, both hands flew up to cover her nose.

She was so dead.

The Sith sat there for what felt like an eternity, his gaze burning into her like a brand searing into her skull. A peculiar heat coiled around the base of her crown, accompanied by a slight, mounting pressure. Just as his hand began to rise, the chime of a commlink interrupted the moment.

   A low, sonorous growl rumbled from his chest and he snatched it from the folds of his cloak. "Vader," he snapped.

"Lord Vader sir, this is Colonel Yularen. We are outside of your establishment waiting on your order." 

There was a change to his demeanor almost instantaneously as he shot up from his seat. The shadows seemed to lengthen around him, following in his wake as he marched out of the room.

It was so abrupt that she just sat there, her mind reeling from the sudden, dizzying shift. "Come on, get it together," she muttered with a groan. Just to work out the stiff ache in her lower back, she quickly stood to relieve the pressure.

Whether it was the alcohol or her burning curiosity, her eyes snagged on a gleaming object that caught her attention from the corner of her view. She glanced at the door with a debative chew of her lip—then acted.

Moving fast, she made her way towards the shelves gleaming like slick onyx.

  A small gasp escaped her, her lips parting in surprise. It is.

  It was a double-sided cube, one she'd seen a certain Toydarian use on numerous occasions. Crimson and cobalt paints were brushed over the grainy surface.

Watto's chance dice.

It was a dice she'd often seen him use to bargain with customers for a steep price slyly tacked at the end. But why would this Sith have it?

Wait... She recalled him grabbing something from the counter before they'd left the junkshop.

Her eyes swiftly scanned over the peculiar items, each neatly placed in a cubicle, most of which she didn't recognize. Wait, she knew what that was. Her gaze landed on a cylindrical silver instrument with a series of groves and knobs. She'd seen it clenched in his hand when he'd disembarked.

That she was sure... was a lightsaber.

Her eyes widened considerably, sobering her by a degree. Holy gundarks, she'd never seen one in person. The sheer temptation to even touch it pulled a finger forward—

When the door flew open.

In stepped Admiral Conan Antonio Motti.

Ice pierced her veins, sobering her considerably upon freezing, her stance hardening. If there was one man she despised on this entire station, it was the pug-faced-puce that strode in.

There was a superficial swagger in his step while he walked into a Sith's domain. He was accompanied by two clone troopers, one of which a captain she'd previously encountered, the handprint across his shoulder plate a rusted crimson.

Her stomach curdled watching them march in, the Sith Lord flanking the rear, followed by the stiff-faced Colonel Wulff Yularen.

Ayen had only encountered Yularen in the occasional passing, but she held a level of respect for the by-the-book Admiral. She'd heard the Anaxes bureaucrat was a former naval officer that spanned the final years of the Republic. He was known for his crisp tact and adeptness that had helped root out covert rebels. Recently the veteran had resigned his commission as Admiral to take the position of a Colonel in the ISB.

To root out further sedition.

The weathered years shone in the silver threads of his hair and reflected in eyes, which leveled a stern gaze at her. "Lieutenant," Yularen nodded cordially, deep lines furrowing his brow. The well-groomed mustache coupled with the decorated uniform, only added to his authoritative appearance.

Admiral Motti finally noticed her, his pale eyes lingering with unsettling ease. A flicker of surprise and confusion crossed his expression.

The hazel in her eyes sparked like flint beneath the soot dusted across the plains of her face.

The Sith Lord came to a halt at the room's center. The air around them seemed to crepitate, the troops taking up post by the doors while both men eyed each other, then she, mystified.

"What is the meaning of this, Lord Vader?" Colonel Yularen gestured to Admiral Motti and took an unhindered step towards the Sith. It was the way he angled his chin a level of respect was outwardly visible between the two.

The Sith slowly inclined his head in the same acknowledgement. "Indeed, there is," he confirmed fluidly. "Perhaps Admiral Motti would like to educate you on his... activities."

  The last of his words carried an unmistakable edge with one gloved hand unfurling, his palm face up.

Ayen's head slowly turned towards the Sith, the inert confusion fading.

  Her lips parted in shock, He couldn't possibly...

Colonel Yularen looked to Motti with a piercing gaze, a stern reprimand in the curve of his brow. "Out with it."

Admiral Motti paled, his lips parting in a stutter, "I-I haven't the faintest." His words ended with a weak, humorless laugh devoid of confidence. His hands raised in a questioning manner, his head bowing slightly like a scorned creature before the menacing figure. "Wh-what is this about?"

A wraithlike breath floated from Ayen's lips as the temperature dipped.

"Have you had the chance to meet Lieutenant Ayen?"

Ayen's head snapped toward him, startled by the use of her name. His stiffened posture made it clear he'd noticed her new position, yet he was blatantly ignoring it for the moment.

Admiral Motti's face abruptly flattened, yet it was his eyes that betrayed him. "Well, m-maybe in passing," he stammered with a forced guffaw. "She's a technician! They reside in the lower sub-levels!"

Simmering eyes burned from beneath the darkness of his cowl cocked slightly to the side. "Is that what you call it?" A low, dark laugh rumbled, shivering across her skin. "In passing?"

"W-well I, you s-see," Motti babbled incoherently when Lord Vader's hand suddenly shot up and squeezed the last of his words with an invisible grip.

"Don't lie to me."

Her hand clenched around her upper arm, Watto's mangled appendage surfacing to mind—the bent limbs of his wings, the bruised vessels rupturing beneath his bluish skin.

The man's face raptly took on a deep, bruised purple, his bloodshot eyes bulging from lack of oxygen. His hands reactively clawed at the iron grip the Sith Lord now physically held around his throat. A low, wet gargle lanced the silence while his feet hovered over the ground, struggling for a pocket of air.

Ayen found herself unable to avert her gaze, torn between horror and a sinister satisfaction that coiled from deep within. The surge of emotions it dragged to the surface was unlike anything she'd ever experienced, watching a once proud man completely reduced by the merciless hand of Darth Vader.

  At that moment, the notorious Hand of the Emperor stood before her. This was Lord Darth Vader.

"Lord Vader," Colonel Yularen spoke up in haste, his voice firm, "might we move this discussion into the interrogation room?"

"I'm not sure I share the same sentiment, Colonel," Darth Vader said in a disconcertingly calm voice. But upon the Admirals face transcending to a chalky hue, he relinquish his grip, leaving the frail man to drop in a crumpled heap at his feet. ".... Captain Rex escort this degenerate to the interrogation chambers."

  "Yes my Lord!" Both troopers snapped into action.

The Admirals waxen face devoid of circulation, morphed into a look of pure horror and was dragged from the room.

  Colonel Yularen gave a curt nod and departed, an eerie silence settling in the room.

The Sith Lord was cold as stone; an archaic effigy now carved from shadow.

Ayen's labored breathing sounded far too audible in the oppressive silence. Shaking her head, she struggled to regain her composure and dared a glance at him. Her words were barely discernible once they fell faintly from her lips, "Thank you..."

  Several breaths later a barely perceptible nod followed.

It was the second time she'd thanked him, though she did not dare press her luck, fearing he'd address her position right then.  The thought made her anxious for the privacy of her own room.

"Oh, Lieutenant?"

She'd barely made it past the door before his words stopped her. She took a breath, her head crooked over one shoulder as she turned. "Yes... My Lord?"

He'd remained where she'd left him, a sinister throw of lights painting him scarlet against a backdrop of darkness. "For your insubordination, I could have you stripped of the rank you've earned here. The surveillance reports could easily be transmitted to central quarters, detailing your behaviors." He paused so long she thought he was finished. "However," he added slowly, his tone dark and deliberate, "you've seemingly served your time with my ship and with that... imbecile." The razor edge in his words left no doubt as to what awaited in the interrogation chamber. "Any further provocation is to be brought to me. Immediately."

"Yes, Lord Vader," she said, hurriedly dipping her head down.

He appraised her for a moment, his arms crossing over his broad chest. "Also, inform Officer Wittar that it would be in his best interests to remember he's a technician, not a comedian."

The distinct, calm tone he'd used, raised the hairs on the back of her neck before the door hissed open. Her lips smacked shut and she didn't dare say a word further, setting a brisk pace back to her own quarters.

Oh hells, she could only hope, Zev didn't encounter this side of Darth Vader too soon.

We are making little progress at a time. Remember this is a slow burn. It's been nearly 7MONTHS since she's been there on station.

Ayen is slowly developing more as time goes on. What do you think will happen to Admiral Motti? What was your reaction knowing Vader knew about Zev's little joke?

Should a Vader pov be put in the mix here? Vote in the comments.

Index

ZELTRON: is a renown hedonistic planet for its pleasures and parties in the Star Wars Universe.

Fierfek: a curse often used by clone troopers.

Holoreality: drama show shown on a holo (tv)

Holo cam/surveillance: Security cameras.

Battle station: The Death Star. Workers were required to call it either a battle station or DS1 Orbital battle station. I believe only the higher up officials knew it as the Death Star. This was on purpose to keep concealed from the Rebellion.

Remember, Ayen was a slave on a very secluded planet for most of her life. She is not fully versed in a Sith or Jedi's abilities. But in due time all things will be revealed.

Remember, Vader is not a cybernetic, therefore he thinks like a realistic man which is shown in his mannerisms as well. The guy is still human. Arrogance played a huge role even when he was Anakin. I believe had he still been human (not the cybernetic machine in a helmet as we know in canon) he would've allowed some things to slip as long as the station remained a well-oiled machine.

As Obi-Wan once said to Luke, "He's become more machine than man now."

Also I don't believe Vader would've cared for sexual harassment of any kind.

I hope you stay for the ride.