Daala looked at the couple embracing in front of her. How… quaint . She straightened her expression before clearing her throat. "Dr. Valkor, Dr. Horne, see to Mr. Anata's health." She turned to Leonia, her tone clipped but polite. "As promised we will take the health of your fiancé with the utmost importance. Now I must depart, I have preparations to make." And a dress to find… would have been easier to interrogate the girl like the rest than play this stupid game.

  Gazrael's eyes flew to Daala. Fiancé? Is that what Leonia told them to get me out of a cell? He kept his expression neutral, but his mind raced. What game is she playing now?

  Daala stepped past them and hit the controls for the MedBay door and stepped out as it hissed open. Unfortunately I owe the Tarkin family too much, my entire time at the Imperial Academy was sponsored by Wilhuff, the least I can do is treat his flesh and blood with some dignity. She paused, her lips thinning as she remembered the Tarkin family was notably large. I don't actually know the girl's place on their family tree, she could actually have very scant blood and flesh relation to my old mentor. It's the principle of it, regardless of her actual bloodline . Her jaw tightened. Still… wouldn't mind shooting her out the airlock when she's served her purpose.

  Daala heard the medbay door shut behind her. "Commander Fredja, I want two troopers stationed at the MedBay doors and patrols on this level doubled…" Perhaps use the girl's sense of self importance against her. "Assign her an honor guard, 4 of your best stormtroopers, ensure they know they're to take orders from her, but they report all of her requests and movements to me directly."

  "Yes ma'am." Fredja clicked her comms to relay the orders as Daala continued down the hallway for the banquet preparations.

  On the other side of the MedBay door the two lovers broke their embrace, Leonia traced Gazrael's bruise tenderly with her finger. Her jaw tightened as she fought back the urge to storm out of the room and demand answers—or better yet, revenge.

  "Stop fussing," Gazrael said, his voice soft but firm. He reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face, his touch gentle despite the tension in the room. "I'm fine, Leonia. It's just a bruise."

  "Just a bruise?" she snapped, her voice rising. "They hurt you. They dared to lay a hand on you. And now they expect us to sit here and play nice at some stupid banquet?"

  The moment was interrupted as a medical droid started ushering Gazrael towards a MedBay table, next to the operating table Leonia herself had been restrained to mere minutes earlier. Leonia followed haughtily, hard to be mad at the droid for attending to her love even if the timing was bad.

  Valkor turned to start her work on Gazrael, her eyes not even rising to see her new patient, instead fixed on her tablet as his vitals started flashing across its screen as various machines and scanners were now reporting their findings as they investigated him. But his eyes found her and suddenly Leonia felt her earlier appreciation of the doctor's aesthetic twist. The black clothes, the well maintained hair, the carefully trimmed nails painted black, the dark makeup that spoke of Valkor's inner darkness, she's like me… his type.

  Her eyes narrowed carefully to see exactly how Gazrael reacted to Valkor and felt her eyes and hand twitch as his eyes lingered and trailed the woman's body. No no no no, he thinks she's beautiful… with her dress and that braided hair.

  Impulsively she found herself plopping down onto the MedBay table and leaning forward to block his view of Valkor as much as she could. Look at ME. She's a distraction, I can wear fancy dresses too, I can grow my hair out too.

  She grimaced, suddenly feeling betrayed by her own reflection. Her hair, shoulder-length and practical, now seemed woefully inadequate compared to Valkor's flowing locks—a cascade of darkness, braided with precision and elegance. She imagined herself with hair like that, a queen draped in shadows, commanding attention with every step, complimented perfectly by that elegant free flowing black dress.

  Gazrael's vision narrowed in as Leonia moved in to block his view and reached out caressing her face. Oh please don't be doing the jealous routine again .

  Valkor seemed oblivious to the drama stirring as she grabbed his arm and prepared a needle.

  "What are you doing?!" Leonia snapped at her, barely restraining her urge to scream.

  Valkor looked up disinterestedly, unclear whether she was still oblivious to the tension or just didn't care. "Adding his blood sample to the Tarkin Family Database… It's a procedure around here."

  Why would that be a procedure? The excellent question in Leonia's head was interrupted as the jealousy got the better of her, her voice filled with venom. You will not do something so intimate with my love! "I'll draw his blood, thank you very much."

  "Do not be ridiculous, Moff Tarkin." Valkor rolled her eyes. "You're not qualified or trained."

  You dare doubt me! Leonia's hand snapped forward, grabbing the needle and jamming it into Gazrael's arm. He is MINE . She felt his blood trickling as the needle pierced his skin, the crimson fluid pooling like liquid fire. It reminded her of their first kiss—a ritual sealed in blood. That is MINE, and mine is his, bonded forever .

  His arm shot back as he yelped. FUCK LEONIA, WOULD YOU FUCKING CALM DOWN. He shot his hand to try blocking the new wound as the blood started spurting out, Leonia's bloody fingers rubbed together as if trying to smear the fluid over as much of her hand as she could.

  Valkor looked at the bleeding arm, a judgemental expression overtaking her apathetic features as she shook her head. "You missed his vein, please, I'm a trained professional." She reached for a bandage. "Now I'll have to draw from the other arm, can't take the risk that you blew his vein." She began quickly cleaning up and bandaging the new injury.

  How dare you… I can clean a wou- The angry thought petered out as Leonia turned back to Gazrael who was still wincing. What have I done? My love?

  Gazrael extended his other arm cautiously as if he expected Valkor to ram the needle in as carelessly as Leonia had. She didn't, she was professional and calculated, drawing the blood sample quickly and efficiently before turning to put the sample in a scanning machine.

  Leonia slowly reached out longingly to take Gazrael's hand, she saw a scowl on his face as if he might withdraw his and deprive her of the affection, but he rolled his eyes and allowed her to proceed.

  He exhaled frustratedly. "You need to get a better grip on that jealousy of yours." I can't be fighting with you every time another woman pays attention to me.

  Leonia looked at Dr. Valkor for a moment trying to gauge if the doctor was safe to have this discussion around, of course though, Dr. Valkor didn't even show the slightest interest in their conversation as she began swiping through her datapad. Her voice dropped low. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

  "Yeah well you did."

  Leonia felt a lump climb up her throat. "I was just trying to make sure it was done right," she folded her arms haughtily. So I made a tiny little mistake, so what?

  Oh, you did a swell job of that , he thought. "If you don't trust me around other women so badly that I can't even get my blood drawn then perhaps neither of us was ready for this."

  Her eyes shot wide open. No no no you can't be saying that. The fantasy shot into her head.

  Her hands tightened around Gazrael's throat, her fingers digging into his flesh as the light faded from his eyes. His neck bore the marks of her rage, bruised and broken, punishment for daring to suggest he might leave her—the one person who truly understood her. She only regretted that his end wasn't bloodier; his blood would have painted her skin like rubies, a masterpiece of devotion and despair. She turned menacingly to Valkor who had been watching like an idiot and she grabbed at a scalpel and swung it for Valkor's jugular…

  Suddenly the fantasy 'broke', doing something that had never happened before, something that was wrong.

  …Valkor's arm shot out, gripping Leonia's wrist. Leonia's perfect porcelain white skin shattered under the pressure, fracturing like a dropped vase. Pain spiderwebbed up her arm, not the hot sting of torn muscle, but the icy horror of breaking glass. Her bones clattered to the floor in crystalline shards, each piece reflecting Valkor's dispassionate face. "Pathetic," the doctor murmured, her voice echoing from a thousand broken mirrors.

  Leonia shook her head as she came back to lucidity, her real hand trembling in Gazrael's grip. Sweat slicked her palms, her breath ragged. "What the fuck?!" the question escaped her lips earning her confused looks from Gazrael and Valkor. That… that doesn't happen. She felt a pang of cold fear as she looked up at Valkor, who already had disinterestedly turned away, scribbling notes. How did she… A wave of disorientation hit her as she struggled to understand. In all her fantasies, she was always the victor, always the one who ended things on her terms. Never before had her mind betrayed her like this. She doesn't even know what's happening to me, but somehow she stopped me even in my own head .

  Leonia folded her arms around herself and leaned away from Gazrael, now trying everything she could to ignore Valkor, a woman so intimidating that even in Leonia's fantasies the woman had effortlessly overpowered her.

  "Are you okay, Starlight?" She felt Gazrael's reassuring grip on her shoulder as he asked the question. He's concerned, I'm… She turned and feigned a smile.

  "Sorry, I must've eaten something off." She allowed herself to lean back into him. He's not going anywhere… he's not leaving me with her. She took a deep breath. "I'll… be more mindful of my 'jealousy' in the future." If he would just pay attention to me we'd be fine, but sure, now I have to compensate for his shortcomings .

  Still despite the venom she felt at the insinuation that she needed to change she looked again at the bandage Valkor had applied to his arm and the guilt crawled back in, she had done that, she was the danger to him in that moment. A small needle can still do some serious damage if you hit a vein wrong… perhaps, maybe, just possibly I should try and control my impulses, for his own sake.

  She gritted her teeth wondering what was going through his head, but he was still letting her lean into him already as if nothing had even happened, more concerned in comforting her than shielding himself from further outbursts.

  She felt for a moment she should try speaking again, yet she wanted him to speak first and found herself locked in a holding pattern wanting to say more but wanting him to initiate. Before that ended up happening though the MedBay door slid open revealing a droid and four stormtroopers. Dr. Valkor got up from her chair annoyed, "what is it now? I'm working."

  "We're the Moff's honor guard for the duration of her stay."

  Leonia's smile bloomed—sharp and hungry—as the stormtroopers snapped to attention. This is how it should've always been, someone finally recognizes my importance . But Gazrael's sigh cut through her triumph. She glanced at him, his eyes distant, and her chest tightened. Why won't he see? This is for us.

  Gazrael's inner monologue was different. Great, they're here to report on us, I can keep my starlight safe all on my own thanks. He looked at the bandage on his arm. I just need to… talk with her about how she carries her emotions .

  Valkor put her hands on her hips. "And the droid?"

  The droid's voice was squeaky. "The admiral has commissioned a fitted dress for the Moff, and said the station doesn't have any that are suitable, but we do have… materials for its creation."

  Leonia beamed as she immediately stood up. I haven't been fitted for a dress since I was 12, this is even better than I hoped . Nostalgia filled her, the honor guard, a fitted dress, a banquet… a taste of how elegant her life would have been if the Emperor had won, all the little vices the New Republic had stolen from her that suddenly were returned. She held out her arms as the droid started taking her measurements and imagining her makeup palette trying to visualize a dramatic and but elegant way to put on her face. It needs to match my art "I want it in black…" It needs to look like a threat. "Crimson highlights…" She glanced over at Valkor and her voluptuous figure. I need to be the sexiest woman in the room. “A tight corset…" It needs to have attitude . "Thigh high stockings and knee high platform boots… are you getting all this?"

  Beside her Dr. Valkor barked out a very different demand. "No one around here bothers fitting dresses for me."

  One of the stormtroopers nudged the trooper next to him. "That's because we're all trying to get her in our quarters and out of her dress, ya know what I mean."

  Leonia could hear the droid's head whirring as it generated possible dresses that fit her demands but also would be possible to construct with the facility's limited materials, but it hadn't rung any objections yet. She was completely oblivious to the tension between her Honor guard and Dr. Valkor while Gazrael facepalmed. This is already a shit show.

  The stormtrooper's chuckle died as Valkor's heel clicked against the floor. She didn't look up from Gazrael's blood sample. "Corporal," she said flatly, "the only thing you'll 'get' from me is a tracheotomy if you don't shut up."

  Suddenly Leonia stopped and looked at Gazrael. If I had had this life I wouldn't have met him, I'd be married to some disgusting admiral 20 years older than me . She felt the nostalgia wane, but not fully. This was still the life she had been denied, the life she could reclaim—if only she could figure out what to do with Daala. She turned, seeing the scene between Valkor and her Honor guard, finally noticing it, her lips twitched. I hate her…and yet I envy her.

  ********

  So-mi strapped her safety harness as she heard a "ayuughurgh" sound from below her. She looked down to see "Awughwugh" motioning to her from the base of the turret. Please, I don't know what you're saying, just let me do this.

  She looked down the barrel of the Turbo laser and double checked her harness. If it goes off it goes off and I won't have to worry about being a slave anymore.

  She looked around the expansive facility again, large enough to dry dock 3 star destroyers, like the one she was currently working on. The dockyard required a variety of cranes and tugs for the wookies to actually effectively work on these large ships. Although there were actual imperial techs mixed in, there were somethings they didn't want the wookiees touching or just assumed the wookiees didn't have the technical know-how to work on.

  The rocky walls and ceiling clearly indicated this was burrowed into some exceptionally large asteroid, with the chamber penetrated by a series of elevators and scaffolding for worker access. It was ironic, no shipyards this large had ever existed on Pantora or in its orbit and yet it was the exact kind of facility she'd always wanted to work in, where she could be fully enmeshed with the machines, where you almost couldn't hear yourself think from the sound of heavy machinery. And yet now she was here and she hated it—that separation between being a slave and free really made the difference.

  Awughwugh made another noise at her that sounded like a dying animal. She looked at him. "I don't. Know. What. You're. Saying. Now hand me that spanner."

  She didn't understand the wookie but he understood her as he reached down and grabbed the desired tool. He was about to toss it to her when he froze up, his mouth agape.

  What the hell is it now? She turned and her eyes rolled as she saw the imperial Junior Officer at the base of the turret watching them both. She hadn't caught his name the first seven times but yet here he was again. "What do you want this time?"

  "I just came to tell you that l got you authorized for a break." His voice was louder than necessary, the turret looked taller than it really was.

  She rolled her eyes. It's cute you have a crush on me, but I'm not gonna fuck a slave driver no matter how kind he is . "Give my break to…" she gestured to Awughwugh, not actually knowing the wookiee's real name.

  Not gonna let any of you touch me, actually . Her mind jumped back to Blender again. No one is gonna touch me except her. She looked down at him again, standing dumbfoundedly confused that she had refused the break before he turned to Awughwugh. "You… Wookiee, 5 minute break."

  So-mi rolled her eyes again as she checked her harness and prepared to try sliding down the tight turbo laser barrel and away from this awkward interaction. A 5 minute break on a 16 hour shift? Do you even know how bad it makes you look that you thought that might make you look good?

  She started descending down the barrel when the officer's voice interrupted her. "It's really unnecessary for you to do that."

  "I fit and the wookies don't, don't you want these things in good order."

  "We have our own techs to take care of those… if you could focus elsewhere that would be preferable."

  So-mi turned her head to hide her scowl. Oh, yet another thing I can't sabotage: I am running out of options here. She looked back at the officer. "Fine, I'll just keep checking your armor plates." She looked around dramatically. "Ahh look, they're all fine. Time to check the weapons."

  She prepared to slide down the barrel again for no purpose other than to be defiant when she felt the safety line jerk and prevent her. Awughwugh stood at the bottom of the turret holding it tightly. You snake, do you not know what solidarity is?

  The wookiee started making another animal sound that sounded roughly like a "wurghwurghwurgh". She heard the officer behind her. "He's trying to tell you that the admiral believes in collective punishment for the slaves, you get caught out of line and all the slaves will be punished in their own way."

  Oh marvelous, now you tell me . She grimaced. Unfortunately as captain of the Koiyokan I am used to my actions having consequences over others… like my entire crew being captured by your admiral. She shook her head, she had merely followed the mission the New Republic had given them, she had to remind herself things would have gone the same way under Garrett's leadership.

  She looked down at Awughwugh as he pulled in the safety line, slowly pulling her out of the barrel of the Turbo laser. It was clearly straining his aged grey body to do so. Are you all this broken?

  She shook her head. It's not his fault… can't let these imperials turn us against each other. She looked down at the junior officer still watching her. He may be less likely to actually try violating me than his buddies, but at least they fucked off and let me do my actual 'job' instead of hovering around . "Fine… what did you want me to work on?"

  "Side hangar bay, check that the mag locks for the TIE Fighters work properly."

  Oh what… Fun . She started descending down the turret even as he kept watching her, a clanging sound as she hopped down to the base of the turret the soles of her boots found their footing on the armor plate. "I'll get to that then."

  She turned walking, hoping to get some distance between her and the officer, gesturing to Awughwugh as she went. He fell in line behind her as if she was his unofficial foreman. To her surprise, she noticed several other Wookiees glancing her way, some even subtly adjusting their work patterns to follow her lead. They're watching me, following my cues even though I'm just another slave. Is it because I stood up to the Imperials?

  Her efforts to distance herself were in vain as the officer followed. So-mi quickly hopped onto some of the facility scaffolding as Awughwugh followed. She turned to try and get to the elevator, but the old wookiee was slow and she wound up having to share the elevator ride down with the officer.

  She tried keeping her gaze straight forward but she felt his eyes wander again and again, short repeated glances, trying to look at her without her noticing. For the love of God I'm going to walk through the magnetic shield and let the void of space suffocate me. She turned to him trying her best to sound sweet and sugary despite her agitation. "You'll do your job better if you keep your eyes on your job and off my ass…. Sir."

  She tried to really emphasize that "sir" at the end to make sure he knew it was sarcastic, but instead he seemed to gulp and his eyes widened awkwardly before he bit his lip, his eyes lingering on her this time. Oh fuck he liked that .

  He leaned closer, his breath reeking of chem-chews. "You're different from the others. Pretty. Smart." His voice dropped. "I could… protect you."

  She rolled her eyes and tried to ignore him, but he kept pushing. "I could have you assigned to work under me specifically, cut your work hours, make sure the techs know to respect your technical knowledge… even arrange better accommodations for you than sleeping in the slave cage with the wookiees."

  She heard the elevator door hiss open and she stepped off as quickly as she could, leaving his offer to sit unanswered in the air between them, not turning as she again tried putting distance between them. She heard him start speaking "You, slaves, you're going to-"

  She snapped to interrupt him as she looked at the wookiees. "Be in the Star Destroyer hangar in 5 minutes exactly, we're gonna be checking the TIE Fighter maglocks."

  "That's just what-" She heard the officer tripping up. "I mean- yes, exactly what she said. On the double, but make it 4 minutes."

  She turned to him. "That many wookiees, elevators that big." She gestured to the elevator behind them. "They can't possibly all be up there in 4 minutes."

  He scowled at her before returning his attention to the wookiees. "Well then, you'd better hurry, the slackers get shocked."

  She heard the wookiees start clamoring forward as he turned his gaze back to her. "Do not try to undermine my authority again. I'm the master, you're the slave. You'll be up to the hangar with them in 8 minutes."

  She rolled her eyes. "You said 4, genius."

  "Well you get 8, because you're gonna clean my boot first," he adjusted his uniform insignia—freshly polished but slightly crooked. With that he spit a large loogie out onto his boot, some kind of chewing substance mixed into his spit. "You'll learn respect, slave. My father didn't raise me to tolerate insubordination."

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  So-mi watched as the wookiees shuffled to the elevator as they tried to comply with the officer's impossible time table. Keep him distracted and try to buy them some extra seconds. "Well he still raised you to be a little bitch so I don't see what the problem is."

  The officer turned red with embarrassment, his eyes seeming to scream with his need for validation from her. "I said clean my boot, slave."

  So-mi smirked for a moment. Ahh is this poor baby afraid punishing the pretty slave girl will make her not like him? Her smirk turned into a glare as he weakly lifted his hand to the button on his remote for the slave collar. His movement was uncertain, still wanting her to like him but also needing to put her in her place. She felt her jaw tighten hard enough to crack her teeth as she got to her knees to comply, as slowly as she could keep him busy for every second she could though she was certain he saw her pace as a deliberate effort to be sultry. She glanced up at the wookiees and nodded her head towards the elevator, trying to signal them to be quick. "As you wish…. Master."

  His face turned smug and he bit his lip again as he watched. Fuck we literally just found out he'd like that, why did I do it again. Her fingers reached out to wipe off his boot when she paused. Fucking shock me, I ain't doing this shit. She looked up to the wookie stragglers still waiting to catch the elevator. Just keep his attention off of them a little longer.

  She withdrew her hand and slowly stood back up with dramatic gusto to hold his attention and keep it focused on her for as long as she possibly could, even finishing with an unnecessary flourish. "I'm going with the wookiees."

  "No you're not, my boot." He gestured at the loogie, his face suddenly desperate.

  "I'm not a doctor but those chem chews aren't good for you… I hear they make your manhood smaller." She reached her hand out playfully as she spoke as if she was going to tenderly caress his cheek before stopping the motion to step past him and get on the elevator with the wookiees.

  For a moment he was caught off guard, blinking at the speed at which she had approached and then retreated from him again, processing that her words didn't align with her gesture. "My cock is perfectly fine as it is you we-" his eyes widened as he realized she was escaping him for now, too busy defending his manhood to follow her. With a hiss the elevator door separated them and she slammed the button for the floor that would take her up to the hangar.

  She smirked a little. See if he still has a crush on me after that maneuver . Her moment of triumph was stolen as she heard the sound of the air crackling around her shock collar before she was hit by a wave of electricity, only a brief second long but strong enough to send her to her knees, tearing through her like a vibroblade, searing the half-healed burns beneath the collar. Her vision whited out, but she bit her tongue until copper flooded her mouth—silence was her last rebellion. FUCK !

  So-mi clenched her fists, the smell of her own burned flesh still lingering in her nostrils. Even as she struggled to recover she heard the elevator open and the sound of the wookie stragglers moving on ahead of her. She felt one of them reach down to carry her but she batted him away. Don't worry about me, he'll go easy on me . The wookie lingered for a moment but she heard him follow the others, leaving her alone. She hated this place, hated the Imperials, hated the way they stripped her of her dignity. But most of all, she hated the way they made her feel small—like she was nothing more than a cog in their machine.

  She pushed herself back up just before the elevator door was hissing closed and she walked out on to the scaffolding, leaning on the rail for support as her legs still threatened to buckle under her. The air was thick with the smell of oil and sweat, the sound of clanging metal echoing through the cavernous facility. So-mi's hands trembled as she gripped the cold railing, the taste of bile rising in her throat but she pushed herself forwards. She exhaled a deep breath and lifted her head to find the wookiees all already lined up, not working, instead standing at attention and looking at her expectantly. "Stop staring at me and get working."

  Her eyes widened with surprise when Awughwugh made a loud guttural growl, the line of wookies broke the line and scattered across the hangar to begin working on the maglocks.

  They were waiting on me… for orders? She watched them move with a new awareness, noticing how they positioned themselves to block imperial sight lines so she could work unobserved on critical systems. One of the elder Wookiees positioned himself to shield her from view while giving a subtle gesture toward a poorly secured maintenance panel. They know I'm a slave too, but they're treating me differently. They're giving me opportunities to sabotage.

  Awughwugh approached, his aged eyes carrying an unmistakable message as he deliberately handed her a tool suited for loosening maglock calibration bolts. The solidarity in his gaze needed no translation.

  Doesn't matter now, I need to figure out if I can fuck up these maglocks without the Imperials noticing . Sabotaging a maglock shouldn't be hard, making sure no overseers or imperial techs noticed the sabotage would be the difficult part, especially if she wanted to make sure no wookies were punished for her actions, but she had time to think of something clever. And now, she had allies.

  ********

  "Cheers to another night stuck in this godforsaken place," Valkor muttered, her voice flat but tinged with a bitterness she rarely allowed herself to show. She clinked her glass of whiskey against the table, the hollow sound echoing in the empty MedBay. "To the endless void and the fools who sent us here."

  She took a sip of her "whiskey," the flavorless liquid burning her throat. "Alright," she muttered, setting the glass down. "Let's see why the Admiral's so obsessed with little Moff Tarkin." The low lighting cast long, flickering shadows across the room, transforming the sterile MedBay into something more sinister. The dormant droids, their lifeless forms slumped in the corners, looked less like healers and more like silent sentinels waiting to harvest organs rather than mend wounds.

  Her fingers danced across the MedBay terminal. "Daughter of Tiguruss and Leonora Tarkin. Twenty-two years old." Nothing new so far. She kept scrolling. "Sent to the Caridan Imperial Academy ten years ago. Prestigious school." Her lips twisted into a scowl. That was the last available information—Leonia had been sent to the academy just before Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin ordered the Admiral into lockdown.

  Her fingers tapped the monitor in a staccato rhythm before she pulled up Leonia's medical history. Clean bill of health—except for the mental illness. Valkor frowned. How can they know she's mentally ill, list her symptoms, even trace it back to her mother, and still not have a diagnosis? What are they hiding?

  She paused, then redirected to Leonora Tarkin's medical history. If the condition is matrilineal, there should be more information here. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the file.

  "Undiagnosed mental health condition affecting aggression and memory," she read aloud. "Still no answers. Typical."

  She was about to close the file when one detail caught her eye: deceased at 34. Valkor's brow furrowed. That's young. Her eyes flicked to the cause of death: Unknown. She leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. "Suspicious," she muttered. "But not exactly helpful for getting off this rock. Still… if the Admiral's so interested in the girl, maybe there's more to this than meets the eye."

  Her eyes lifted to the ceiling as she pondered aloud, trying to connect the dots. "Why would House Tarkin anoint a young woman to the role of military governor when the house elders are all decorated naval officers? Why would they choose a mentally ill brat specifically?"

  The most obvious answer would be that they didn't, but she'd already tested the girl's DNA repeatedly. The girl wasn't lying about her name… she could be lying about her rank, but if that were the case, the Admiral surely would have had a ship pass the gas shield to relay back to Eriadu. And yet, they were still under a strict "no contact" lockdown. She started swiveling in her chair. The lockdown was supposed to go until a Tarkin ordered Daala to break radio silence. The Tarkin is here, but radio silence remains… which means Daala isn't maintaining the lockdown on orders from above.

  She began typing on the terminal again, searching for the data from that new ship the Moff came in on, the Koiyokan. Her eyes twitched as the error popped up: "No Access."

  "What do you mean, no access?" she hissed. "That ship's logs and that crew's interrogations are the only data from the galaxy we've received in 10 years." Her mind flashed with possibilities—technological advancements, political secrets, anything that could be invaluable to the projects underway at Revan Research Base. The Admiral isn't just hiding something; she's compromising our research to do so.

  Her fingers danced again, trying to open the interrogation logs. Again: "No Access." Great. I'm going to have to talk to Moff Tarkin, privately… no. The other crew. I'll pin down what the Admiral did with them and see if I can get access to one.

  Anger flashed over her, but she didn't show it. She never showed her emotions anymore. She was on year 10 of a 2-year contract, and she was sick of the Empire sapping more of her life away. I'm getting off this rock, whether Daala likes it or not.

  With renewed determination her fingers flew across the terminal again as she fed her password into the prisoner logs. The Admiral may have blocked access to the Koiyokan's logs but not its crew. The screen turned blue as it loaded the logs, the same blue glow as a stun baton. Her fingers twitched, the old electrical burns on her wrists prickling—a phantom jolt from a lifetime ago. She viscerally heard a nurse's scream and a cracking skull crunch, cut short by static. Not the time for memories.

  The blue glow fainted and she returned her attention to the screen, clicking to organize the entries by the most recent additions. So-mi Syung… transferred to the drydocks. I don't want to walk into that stench pit and argue with those navy assholes to talk to her, it'd take a week to scrub the wookiee musk off her skin, and a month to wash away the slave drivers' stench—a cloying mix of sweat, blaster oil, and guilt. She scrolled to the next name. Sara Oneya… transferred under Dr. Grumsh k. She considered it for a moment. Grumshk would complain to Daala that I was interrupting his experiment, and I don't need Daala to know I'm trying to talk to the Koiyokan's crew. She shifted down to the next name. Blitzer Oneya, still in a detention cell. Pulling a prisoner will draw too much attention, the command staff would inquire what role he'd serve in my research.

  She scrolled down again. Garrett Liosco, just barely transferred under Dr. Liam's care. It's settled, I'll talk to Garrett. Short walk from here, doesn't require me to talk to any army or navy personnel and Dr. Liam will be cooperative .

  She stood from the terminal and deleted all her previous inquiries from record before pulling up a manual on diagnosing and treating clinical depression and leaving it open as she started gathering her things, help cover up her digital trail. She quickly smoothed her hair and dress. Dr. Liam never hid his romantic interest in her—most men in the facility after 10 years had shown sexual interest in her at some point, but Liam seemed genuinely interested. I'll use his affection to my advantage… She paused looking at her reflection in one of the bacta tanks. He doesn't deserve that, but… I need to talk to Garrett about what's been going on outside that gas shield the last ten years.

  **********

  Blender lay on the cold, unyielding stone floor of her cell, staring up at the harsh fluorescent lights that buzzed faintly overhead. The air was damp and carried a faint metallic tang, like the smell of blood or rust. To her right, the frog-man clacked away on his terminal, the sound grating against her nerves. I didn't expect my death to be so boring , she thought, her fingers tapping restlessly against the floor.

  She turned her head, her gaze drifting to the other cell where the mysterious man lay motionless. His breathing was shallow, and his face was pale, almost ghostly under the fluorescent light. There was something unusual about him that she couldn't quite place—a stillness that seemed both peaceful and troubled at once. Every so often, his fingers would twitch slightly, as if reaching for something that wasn't there.

  "Hey," she called out, her voice echoing in the sterile silence. "What did you do to wind up here?"

  There was no response, but she saw the man shift slightly, his head tilting toward her. That's a good sign, right? "Hey, I'm talking to you," she pressed, her voice sharper this time.

  The clacking stopped abruptly, and Blender heard the frog-man's chair scrape against the floor as he stood. He waddled over to her cell, his bulbous eyes blinking slowly as he peered in. "Ah yes, Experiment 1," he said, his voice dripping with his glee. "He has said very little since the operation was successful."

  Blender exhaled, already bracing herself for another uselessly cryptic answer. "What operation?" she asked, her tone laced with sarcasm.

  "The operation," the frog-man replied, as if that explained everything.

  I hate you so fucking much, Blender thought, rolling her eyes. "An operation for mind control?" she ventured, half-expecting another non-answer.

  "Yes, exactly," the frog-man said, his tone jubilant.

  Great, Blender thought, her stomach twisting. So he's gonna do something to make me like that guy. She turned her glare back to the frog-man, her jaw tightening. "Say, why don't you just let me out, and we ca—"

  "Not allowed," he interrupted, his voice flat and final, but still filled with his annoying glee.

  Can you fucking stop with this positivity shit? You're fucking creepy . She sighed, her frustration bubbling over. "Let me guess, because of the admiral?"

  "Yes," the frog-man replied, already turning back to his terminal.

  I swear I will fucking strangle you, you useless, unhelpful waste of life, Blender thought, a smirk tugging at her lips despite her anger. I'm starting to act like Leonia… but less bratty.

  She turned back to the ceiling, the fluorescent lights burning into her retinas. This is worse than being on the bridge with Blitzer . The thought of her brother brought a pang of guilt. She hadn't seen him since they were captured, and the uncertainty gnawed at her. Where the hell is he? Where's So-mi?

  The frog-man's clacking resumed, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. Blender clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. I need to get out of here. I need to find them. She sat up abruptly, the cold stone biting into her palms as she pushed herself off the floor. "Hey, frog-face," she called, her voice sharp. "What happened to my crewmates?"

  The clacking stopped again, and the frog-man turned to her, his expression still obnoxiously happy. "They're gone."

  "Gone like… dead? Or gone like, somewhere else?" she pressed, her heart pounding in her chest.

  "They're gone," he repeated, his tone infuriatingly joyous.

  I swear I will rip your slimy little throat out, Blender thought, her jaw tightening. She forced herself to stay calm, her voice steady despite the rage simmering beneath the surface. "Okay, let me be more specific. Where is So-mi Syung?"

  The frog-man blinked slowly, his bulbous eyes narrowing as if considering her question. "How should I know? I don't even know who that is."

  Blender's patience snapped. "Well, hop back over to your computer, take your slimy little fingers, and find out!"

  "I do not take orders from Experiment 7," he replied, his voice as calm as ever.

  Great, he's fucking calling me Experiment 7 again. Blender rolled her eyes, her frustration boiling over. "You know what? Forget it. I'll figure it out myself."

  She turned away from him, her mind racing. So-mi's out there somewhere. Blitzer too. And Garrett, Gazrael, Leonia… What if they're already dead? What if I'm the only one left?

  The frog-man's clacking resumed, the sound grating against her nerves. Blender leaned back against the cold stone wall, her eyes fixed on the fluorescent lights above. I need a plan. I need to get out of here . But the thought felt hollow. She was trapped, alone, and at the mercy of a mad scientist who saw her as nothing more than an experiment.

  They were interrupted by the sudden activation of comms and she heard a smooth woman's voice. "Dr. Grumshk, the admiral has requested you to her office for a performance review immediately."

  Dr. Grumshk turned to the comms and then got up again leaving Blender's sight, he disappeared around the corner and she heard the hissing of a door open and closed again.

  "What did you do to wind up in here?"

  Blender almost lurched forward from her surprise, rising from lying on the floor to a sitting position and turning to the mysterious man. His voice was hoarse with disuse, but there was a strange quality to it—a resonance that seemed to linger in the air after he'd spoken.

  "Why do you want to know?" she asked, studying him more carefully now. Despite his wasted appearance, there was a dignity to the way he held himself, a quiet strength that seemed at odds with his imprisonment.

  "You asked first," he replied simply, his eyes meeting hers with unexpected clarity.

  "We were subspace charting to make sure nothing from dead space was on a trajectory to block any major Hyperspace routes and it went wrong." She felt no reason to lie about that much.

  The man shifted slightly but not much. "My clone troops turned on me during a battle."

  "...your clone troops?" Blender asked skeptically, noticing how his hands trembled slightly, not with fear but with what seemed like suppressed energy.

  "Yes, on the fields of Eiattu 6 facing Separatist forces." Experiment 1 now finally turned to face her fully, and Blender felt a strange sensation, almost like a whisper of wind across her mind.

  "You commanded clone troops in the Clone Wars… like, you were an officer in the Grand Army of the Republic." She glanced up at the ceiling. Great, I've got a museum artifact as my only company.

  "My master was the Jedi general for the 432nd Shock Troops."

  Blender held back a snort. "Jedi general? Yeah… ok." Though even as she dismissed him, she couldn't help but notice the conviction in his voice, the weight of memory behind his words.

  "Yes, I watched them kill my master." He shot towards the bar quickly, his knuckles turning white as he gripped them. "They took me alive. A trophy for their betrayal."

  "Jedi? Pull the other one. Next you'll say you took out a TIE Fighter with a glowstick." She backed up from the bars slightly even though she was confident they'd hold him back. Frog-man's experiments really cooked his brain, huh? "Jedi aren't real, pal, go hallucinate to someone else."

  "Yes we are… I'm a Jedi, my master was a Jedi." Spittle flew from his mouth missing Blender by millimeters, but there was something about his intensity that gave her pause—a desperate need to be believed that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than madness.

  She felt her face bunching up with a cringe. I should have So-mi in my arms showing her how the Koiyokan's controls work right now, not being an experiment for a mad scientist and therapist for a mad man having his mid-life crisis. "Ok… so do some Jedi stuff."

  "I can't." The man's grip somehow got even tighter around the bars. "The experiment… it blocked me." His voice cracked, and for an instant, Blender felt a strange pressure in the air between them—like the atmosphere before a lightning strike. "The Force… it's silence. I hear nothing but my failure."

  Blender rolled her eyes, but something in her hesitated. Ahh so convenient that you're a Jedi that can't do… whatever it is Jedi do. She looked around the cavern again, her eyes settling on Dr. Grumshk's terminal, far out of reach thanks to the bars of her cell. Or inconvenient I guess, would be helpful getting out if you actually could do weird galaxy magic.

  Yet despite her skepticism, she found herself watching the man more carefully, noting how his eyes sometimes unfocused as if seeing something beyond the walls of their prison. What if... no, that's ridiculous . But the seed of doubt had been planted. In a galaxy where the Empire had risen and fallen, where planets could be destroyed in an instant... was it really so far-fetched that the legends might hold some truth?

  ***********

  Garrett felt the cold metal of an E-11 blaster against his back as he was once again led through the white fluorescent halls of the imperial base until the stormtroopers stopped at a door and carelessly threw him in. "Dr. Liam, the prisoner you ordered… you want security? Restraints? He's been generally cooperative but I'd recommend at least keeping an armed gu-"

  "No no, that won't be necessary." The man, Dr. Liam, stood in the middle of the room Garrett now found himself in, surrounded by what seemed to be models of ships and engine systems, the lighting was bright like the hallways but the walls inside were an uncomfortable cream color instead.

  "Suit yourself, call us if the prisoner causes problems." Garrett heard the door close shut behind him.

  For a moment it seemed Dr. Liam was ignoring him before the doctor turned with a drink in each hand. "Liosco, isn't it?"

  "I prefer just going by Garrett, and you?"

  The doctor smiled as he extended his hand offering up one of the drinks. "Ahh, I'm glad, I do dislike formalities, you can just call me Liam. Now, I have some questions about your interrogation."

  Garrett took the drink and sipped it without hesitation. "So was the first interrogation the bad cop routine and now you're giving me the good cop routine?"

  The doctor's smile cracked for a moment, "No… I'm afraid I'd make a terrible cop. You see here at Revan Research Base all information is typically accessible to research staff, there's no such thing as Restricted Files, we were never meant to keep secrets, believing it would interfere with our research programs."

  "And that has… what to do with my interrogation?"

  "Why I was about halfway through your interrogation when suddenly it became restricted, now why do you believe that was?"

  "How would I know? I don't know your base's protocols." He took another sip of the drink before examining one of the models besides him, an imperial Gamma class assault shuttle.

  The doctor smiled again. "True… still something you mentioned, the Death Star? Can you tell me more about it? Let's say, for sake of transparency I was involved in its design before the entire project was transferred to the Eadu facility."

  Garrett's face fell and he looked at the doctor skeptically. "You… don't know about the Death Star?"

  "We've been on a no contact lockdown for… awhile, just indulge me."

  "Uhh… sorry, just, it was a pretty big deal when the Empire destroyed Alderaan with it." Garrett sipped his drink again. "Was the top story on Galactic News Network for months, caused the Corporate Sector Stock Exchange to spasm."

  The doctor's smile dropped. "What do you mean destroyed Alderaan?"

  "Uh it rolled up to Alderaan and turned Alderaan into Aldergone."

  "That can't be correct, it was a mining project."

  Garrett's face widened in disbelief. "What? No, it was a super weapon, with a giant super laser."

  "No, it was a mining project, the idea was to crack open dead planets to make their molten mineral cores easily accessible, the super laser was only to create a more efficient mining system."

  Garrett rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah that's why it was called the Death Star, not the Mining Star. Be real, it was a super weapon."

  Dr. Liam folded his arms, his smile vanishing as he set his drink down. "The name doesn't define its purpose, we were told explicitly that the machine was part of Project Stardust for heavy mining operations."

  "Yeah, yeah, the Empire lies, I can't tell you how many times my dad got fucked over on weapons contracts because some Moffs didn't want to pay up on their TIE fighter orders."

  The doctor picked his drink back up and sipped it again leaving only the gentle hum of the sinkhole generator to fill the room for a moment before he spoke again. "And the galaxy just… sat by as the Empire unleashed a planet killer."

  Garrett smirked, "Buddy, you leave this base and you won't be seeing much 'Empire' anymore beyond some Outer Rim warlords trying to keep their own pocket kingdoms. The galaxy killed the Empire for making a planet killer."

  The doctor put his glass to his mouth and emptied the cup with a long and loud swallow. "I see why the admiral restricted access to your interrogation. You really love to sew dou-"

  He was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door and he stepped past Garrett and flipped on a surveillance camera before gulping and turning red. The door hissed open to reveal a woman in a flowing black dress, long black hair in elegant braids and the moodiest makeup style Garrett had ever seen, possibly even more moody and dark than Leonia's. "Dr. Valkor, what a surprise… I love you- I mean, I'd love to to talk but I'm in the middle of-"

  The female doctor, Dr. Valkor's face was emotionless and flat as her eyes quickly surveyed the room as if ignoring Liam completely until they rested on Garrett, piercing him for a second before suddenly her face broke into a smile so forced it almost seemed dead as she turned to Liam. "Ahh Dr. Liam, now now, you wouldn't want to leave little old me waiting would you…afterall" Garrett watched as the woman playfully slid a finger up Liam's chest. "Talking to Garrett here could further both of our research so much, you wouldn't want to inconvenience me would you."

  Her face contorted from its parody of a smile as she opened her eyes wide trying to give Liam her best sultry face, Garrett watched in shock as Liam seemed to start tripping over himself to answer. "Y- I mean- of course, it's just I mean-"

  Before he could even get his first word out she stepped right past him and the feigned emotions dropped back to an apathetic expression. What is… am I awake right now? He doesn't know what the Death Star is and now he's getting played effortlessly by this woman?

  The cream-colored walls seemed to pulse under the fluorescent glare, and the hum of the sinkhole generator throbbed like a migraine. Now Valkor's black dress and porcelain clashed around her settings, the light seeming to refract around her as if it, like Liam was smitten with her. She batted aside a model of an old Venator Star Destroyer and lifted herself up to sit on the empty shelf space where it once stood. "Liam, you have such… an interesting workspace, my you must tell me all about your…. toys over dinner sometime, but also silly me, I wanted to hear about Garrett."

  "D-d-dinner? Of course I make a mean bantha steak if I say so myself and I could clear up some space so we could dance and-"

  Her smile was a predator's grin—all teeth, no warmth. Liam didn't notice. "Oh Liam a dance how… thoughtful, but we must really let Garrett speak."

  How can she smile at him so lifelessly and he still manages to not realize she's baiting him?

  Garrett shook his head in disbelief. If all of the Death Star's designers were this smart than it's a miracle the thing worked at all, fucking idiot.

  Liam blushed and waved his hand dismissively. "Oh don't mind Garrett, I can see clearly that Daala censored his interrogation because he's a liar."

  Garrett sighed. He's really committed to the idea that the Death Star was just a harmless mining project, huh?

  Valkor's eyes flashed with her first genuine sign of emotion since she'd entered the scene, leaning forward giving Liam a better view of her chest. Her braids swayed like serpents as she leaned in, the scent of antiseptic and the fruity perfume she'd used to try to cover it up drifting off her. "Oh? Why I must say I'm dying to know what kind of lies he tells."

  "I didn't tell any lies, you're stupid boyfriend here is just in denial. I'll have you know I'm a starship captain and an upright citizen."

  "Shhhh shh enough from you, I bring you into my home and serve you drinks just for you to attack my honor." Liam turned back to Valkor, his eyes practically bulging from his head as he saw her leaning forward for him. "I love yo- I mean he said that the Death Star was used for- " He dragged his eyes up from her chest, seeming to struggle as if he was fighting a tractor beam. "used for destroying planets."

  Valkor cocked an eye. "You're surprised a Death Star was used as a weapon?"

  Liam's face turned scarlet with blush and he rubbed the back of his head. "Well when you put it like that it does sound so silly of me."

  Garrett rolled his eyes. Note to self, if you want this idiot to listen to you start by having voluptuous breasts.

  Valkor turned to Garrett. "And exactly what was the fate of this Death Star?"

  "Got blown up with Grand Moff Tarkin on board."

  The woman paused looking up at the ceiling. "That explains some things… and what of the new Moff Tarkin."

  "Leonia? I'm sure she's got some family connections and wealth stashed away somewhere." In fact I'm betting quite a lot on that . "But it's hard to say she's really a Moff after the Empire fell."

  Suddenly Valkor's mask of indifference broke and she looked straight at him, suddenly her eyes burning with interest, like a trapped animal that just saw a way to escape its cage. "You don't say. Leonia Tarkin," Valkor mused. "A Moff without an Empire… how poetic."

  Liam cut in once more as if trying to steal her attention away from Garrett. "A preposterous theory of course, if the Empire fell we'd know…now what about that dinner, could we try it in say, 3 standard rotations."

  Valkor rolled her eyes, faint disgust playing on her lips before feigning her flirtatious smile again, now reaching out and taking Liam's hand. "Why don't you think we ought to at least test Mr. Liosco's story?"

  "I uh- I mean, I guess I could ask the admiral-"

  "Oh no no no, she's just so busy you wouldn't want to waste her time with this trivial matter, but alas, even trivial matters can divulge important data don't you think." Her eyes locked on to Liam's again as she made her sultry face and once again Garrett watched in disbelief as Liam seemed to melt for her.

  "Of course… for the data, it could be useful and the admiral doesn't need to know."

  "I think I remember there being a Gamma Class carrier on the underside of facility 3… you could just borrow it, pierce the gas shield, send a transmission, get your response from the Empire and return, no one needs to know a thing. Could you do that for me Liam? The data could be so important for both of us."

  Liam looked at Garrett and then back at her. "I mean of course, anything for you- I mean for your research of course… what's your research again?"

  Valkor shot forth from her perch on the shelf. "Oh I just help Doctor Horne study the effects of various stimuli on the human brain, terribly boring work, I'd hate to bore you and besides, I simply must be going."