Chapter 1
AN: This is slightly AU, but stick with it. I think it goes a little deeper into who they are. You might disagree. Like it? Hate it? Comment. Cheers!
Admiral Natasi Daala had taken many lovers over the years, and been taken on several occasions against her will, but none had been as memorable as one of her first consensual encounters. She found her mind drifting back to the uneasy detente that started the illicit affair between a young officer and the bounty hunter who was working at making his fearsome reputation.
As she stood on the bridge of her flag ship, the Gorgon, Daala sighed, looking out into space remembering their initial meeting. What was supposed to start as two men debating her future, using her body as currency, had ended with the mental break up of her dependency on Tarkin and a new liaison that would, to this day, bring a smile to the solitary woman's face.
It was as clear as if it were only yesterday...
***
She was fresh faced, just given her commission at 19; she was young for an officer and the only woman in her class. Add to that being a favourite of Tarkin and she was already being talked about.
"I heard old Lady Tarkin has put a hit on her," she heard the gossip from the other females, resigned to their careers behind desks and computer terminals.
They're just jealous, she would tell herself. She hadn't succumbed to Tarkin's pressure to be physical... Yet.
"I bet she's just giving it to the old man," the male cadets would postulate. "I bet she's wild." "I bet she's a rock." "I think she's a lesbian." "She's kind of scary." "She's pretty hot."
But, day to day, they left her alone, afraid of her temper and the influence she possessed over Tarkin, the CO of the vessel. They were docked in the Outer Rim, taking care of a spot of trouble on a little known planet with a small but rebellious population and a large and prosperous illicit mining set up for spice.
Tarkin was having trouble making a dent in the solidarity and independence of the mine operators, who were criminals by definition in the Empire and as such, Tarkin was struggling with trying to strike a business deal with them.
"Perhaps using an intermediary?" Daala would suggest at one of their late night cycle meetings.
"I'm listening, my dear, explain," he would challenge, his dim blue eyes leering over her. Daala knew he respected her mind, but he desired his body.
"The area is repleate with bounty hunters, men who work for money, perhaps hiring one of them to work as an intermediate between you and the mine operators," she started. "It would also have the added effect of adding more terror to the whole threat; you're sending a mercenary who is paid by results. It shows you mean business."
"And six Star Destroyers don't?" he challenged her. The air behind her went cold and she could hear the breathing of Tarkin's second in control, Darth Vadar. She wasn't afraid of the half man/half machine. The worst he could possibly do was kill her slowly. Death was not to be feared.
"Not to these people," she challenged. "If you hire someone they know, someone they already fear, you get the added level of dissociation as well. You can pocket more of the profits for yourself." She looked over her shoulder at Vadar who would no doubt report her to the Emperor, misogynistic bastards they pair of them.
:"You would be wise to watch your tongue, woman," Vadar said, trying to be imposing. Most of the other officers were scared beyond reason by Vadar and his Force powers, and while Daala would admit they were fantastic, she was not afraid of death which meant she was not afraid of dying or a man who might kill her.
"You mistake me for one of the ones who is afraid of you, Lord Vadar," she said, standing and saluting him as she was required to.
"You say you are unafraid, and yet you salute."
"Lack of fear does not translate into lack of respect," she said carefully. Fear did not always mean respect, in fact many times Daala noticed fear decreased respect. "
Of course she couldn't see under his helmet, but Daala imagined that her words might have brought a wry smile to the older man's lips. He knew what happened behind closed doors, the pressure and persuasion tactics used by Tarkin to try an attain that which Daala continued to deny him. He didn't aid her, but neither did he condemn her. Perhaps he knew what it was like to be a pawn in someone else's chess game, trying to keep yourself from being turned over. .
"Ensign Daala believes the key to our success on the surface is in hiring a third party to... negotiate the terms of their surrender," Tarkin said, gesturing that Vadar should join them at the table. With the Sith Lord seated, decorum stated Daala could once again sit down. "Your opinions, Lord Vadar?"
She was holding her breath. She couldn't help it. Validation by Vadar, who was at once the right hand of Tarkin but also the direct conduit to the Emperor, would be the most important thing to happen in her since Tarkin noticed her at the academy.
The silence, punctuated by Vadar's breathing, was torturous. He took his time considering her plan. Maker damn that mask of his, she thought to herself. Oh what she would have given to be able to read his features under the helmet.
"It makes sense," Vadar said, standing. Daala rose with him. "I know the perfect mercenary for our purposes. I shall contact him and send him to you, Tarkin."
"Good, Lord Vadar," Tarkin nodded by means of dismissing the second most powerful Force wielder in the galaxy, so far as anyone knew.
Vadar left and Daala was permitted to sit down once more.
"Natasi, come closer," he curled a finger. "We should further talk about your plan." Something in his voice told her he had no interest in talking about her plan, or talking at all. He was a lustful old man, and while the rumour mill had her seducing him for emotional reasons, for her career or any other reasons, she was truly repulsed by the man Tarkin was, it was the power he wielded that she wanted. He was using her, but she was determined to use him just as hard.
She obeyed, coming to the head of the table. She leaned against the table and he smiled, reaching a hand up to touch her face. Internally she reminded herself what she was doing this for, forcing herself to forget about the cold, old, clamy hand caressing her cheek.
"You've been able to grow your hair," he mused, his bony fingers combing through her coppery locks. It was naturally wavey and finally long enough to brush past her shoulders. At Cardia she had been held down and had her hair, at that time long enough that when braided it fell to the waist of her pants, forcibly shaved by the other cadets. "It suits you more."
She nodded a silent reply, trying not to look too repulsed, not that she believed for a minute her own willingness to participate was important to him.
"I have bought you something," he said, gesturing to a box resting on the mantel. Daala really did not want to know what was in the box; it could not be good. "I should like you to wear it the next time we meet." He stood up, drawing her to him, a hand around her waist and the other trapping her head at the back of her neck.
Resisting was futile, she simply gave in, hoping her stomach didn't turn so much as to make her gag as he kissed her deeply. His lips were thin and cold, clumsy and without passion. His body felt fragile when Daala put her hands up against his shoulders. She could swear she felt the bones even through the thick military issue uniform.
"Your kindness is too much, Moff Tarkin," she whispered, playing the part of demure student, tilting her chin down and looking up at him with big, innocent green eyes.
"Shush, child," he kissed her forehead and Daala tried to block out the scent of his aftershave, even that smelt like old man. "Enjoy the gifts."
She retrieved the gift and exited the room quietly. She sprinted back to her quarters, hoping to run into as few people she knew as possible; she didn't want any extra humiliation due to the decrepit old man.
Running blindly through the hallways at this hour was not difficult; there were very few conscripted officers on duty, and most were working nights for a) extra pay or b) punishment, either way they were not the group who would be judging Daala the harshest.
She made it back to her quarters, chest heaving and burning from the sprint, but unnoticed by her former class mates. As she locked the durasteel door behind her she heaved a sigh.
***
She was one of few of her rank to have her own private chambers, but they were not elaborate multi room facilities like the higher ranked officers. She had a sleeping pallet and a small three piece washroom with a small shower, sink and toilet. The room was just large enough for the pallet, the water closet and a closet with her uniforms, training clothing and a single dress uniform. Now, she could add the contents of the box to her wardrobe.
She was almost afraid of opening the box. It could be something entirely humiliating; something far too sexualized for the officer who had all but grown back her virginity. After a very humiliating and degrading experience in the Academy Daala had sworn off relationships. She didn't count Tarkin; the "relationship" with him was even less consensual than the one at the Academy had been.
She sat on her pallet and opened the box.
She had been right to be afraid it might be something sexual, something entirely inappropriate for an officer in the Imperial Navy to wear at pretty much any point.
A green satin dress, something that would have been considered far too simple for the Lady Tarkin, a noble born bitch who was bonier and colder than her husband if that were possible. It came just above the knee, and was thin almost to the point of being sheer. It took a minute, but it clicked.
It's not a dress, you silly fool, she mentally chided herself. It was a piece of lingerie. She sighed and pushed it, still in the box, into the closet.
"Child," she muttered to herself, laying back on the sleeping pallet.