Title: The Princess and The Tower
Characters: (Suited) Darth Vader formerly known as Anakin Skywalker, and Olee Starstone (from the sequel to the Revenge of the Sith Novel: The Rise of Vader by James Luceno).
Summary: The backstory on Olee Starstone for those who haven't read the book... Olee was a hard headed Padawan learner of adult age with an attachment to the Order who is confronted by Vader in a raid on Kashykk for banding together the few Jedi who escaped the purge. Interestingly, there was a connection between her and Vader, he even allowed her to go free despite decimating the other Jedi, including a master who had taken her under his wing, with the warning "Padawan, listen to your master and go". She slinks past Vader, and he allows her to go. After her "master" is killed (Shyrne, the Jedi hero of this book) Olee accepts that the Order is gone, and moves on with her life.
This story is about Olee and Vader meeting again, and my how things have changed.
Darth Vader - formerly Anakin Skywalker, hero of the Republic, Jedi, turncoat, Sith, and mass murderer landed his Imperial Class Star Destroyer on the grim Outer Rim planet, Boz Pity. In the year that passed since his accident, enforcing the peace had given him something to do. Something other than reflecting on the wounds incurred by the hands of Obi Wan Kenobi, his former master, who, in a battle sent him into a fiery pit on the planet Mustafar.
He was over it now. He had accepted the sacrifice that needed to be made to get where he is now. Ruler of the known galaxy. It was his. Anything he wanted, save for Palpatine's head on a stake. One day, he would have that too. Until then, he would accept the crumbs the old buzzard doled out to him, whilst using every ounce of restraint in his scarred body, to keep from biting the Sith Master's hand. He sighed, then looked around.
Vader's reasons for going to Boz Pity were simple. There was nothing else to do. Who would rise against the Empire? Who would dare?
He smiled inside the mask. It was a routine visit. A search for insurgents or rebels... they were bound to come someday. The plan was to destroy them before the movement had a chance to gain steam.
Vader and a squadron of stormtroopers walked through the streets of Vector 5, a western city on the planet. All but Vader carried blasters in their hands. With him was Noll Tampay, who was on hand to collect taxes which vendors and shopkeepers dropped into a linen sack he carried.
The tax monies collected were to be used as spending money for the troops. Something to grease the wheels a bit, keep them loyal. Why else would they continue to act in the service of the Empire if there was nothing to gain from it?
The cadence of the troopers armored feet sent tremors of fear across the market.
An alien woman stepped from behind a cart, throwing herself in Vader's path. "Lord Vader," she cried, crumbling to her knees before him. "I'm sorry, my lord, but business has been slow. I have no money! Please," she said, eyes weepy, heart thundering, "take this fruit, free of charge."
She tried pressing it in his hand, but he smacked it away. "I have no need of any of your fruit!" he snapped. After a moment, he composed himself. "I will let you slide, today," he finished, in a calculated tone, "but I will be sure to send our regional tax collector, Tambay to retrieve the funds in five standard days."
The woman bowed her head. "Thank you, your grace..." she said, backing away, as though he were some god, too great to look upon."
Pathetic, he thought.
Vader took a step away from the shopkeeper and nearly tripped over a small figure that crouched near his feet. It was a presence that was quite familar to him... he looked down, seeing a shock of straight dark hair cut into a bob. A woman... she had plucked the piece of fruit Vader had smacked away from the vendor from the dusty ground.
"You don't want it, I'll take it," the woman smiled. She rubbed the fruit on her shirt, cleaning it of dust, and took a bite.
He recognized the face. Who could forget a face like hers? Carmel-olive complexion, pouty lips. She even wore his brand. The one he had given her when they last fought. But... he sensed no animosity in her now. Not even an inkling. And saw no need of drawing his lightsaber.
Olee Starstone. She was in his face, a handbreath away, chomping the fruit nonchalantly and wiping juicy spittle away with the back of her gloved hand.
She wore an old ratty brown linen shirt - with net covering. Both shirts had been twisted and pulled to the side, leaving one of her shoulders exposed. There, he saw the scar, a thin scar, that rose over her shoulder like a purse strap. The gloves she wore were similar to her shirts, in that, there was one pair covering another, both with fringed edges, as though she ripped them in half so that her part of her hand remained exposed at the finger tips and over the wrist.
"So...daddy-o, what brings you to Boz Pity?" she said in the language of the youth set. Funny he thought, he was only three years older than she was. But the suit made him feel so much older.
He looked down, eyes on her exposed her mid-drift. She wore a skirt that barely covered her thighs and black boots. I will have to do something about that... perhaps, a new decency law. Vader folded both arms behind his back, regarding her for a moment.
"You are wise to have left your Jedi commitments behind."
"I'm not sad to say that I agree. I'm over it now. I think you saw to that."
"Is that so? Because I killed your master?"
"Which master? You killed them both."
"A pity."
"Well, that's what they call it," she said, looking around. "You are in no need of worrying about me. I am not a Jedi anymore, and I am not a part of any insurgency."
"Thank you, but you are the last one I would ever need to worry about, Padawan."
She gave him a curious look, a half smile on her face. But beneath the smile was a young woman plagued by guilt. Guilt only someone like Vader could understand - that is, if he even had a conscious. She owed her guilt to the fact that she didn't listen to her "new" master, when he warned her that the Jedi Order was finished. Because of her, he was dead, as well as the other Jedi and the Wookies Vader killed on Kashykk. Because she didn't listen, there was as much blood on her hands as there was on the Sith Lord's --- because of her stubborness, because of her attachments to something that was long gone. Shyrne had told her to let go --- and now, she finally had. She went from being a young, responsible prudish temple librarian to those around her as a careless young woman with little commitment to anything. But little did they know, her carelessness was her way of coping. And once again, as she had in the past few months, she flirted with danger. Danger in a black mask.
Olee turned and walked past Vader. For a second, she wondered if he would do something to her now. He had hunted what remained of all the Jedi as far as she knew. Would he let her walk away? Certainly, she didn't care. Whatever fate had in store.
His eyes burned into her back. The stormtroopers watched. He waved an arm, gesturing the men to walk ahead.
"Padawan," he called.
Olee turned and looked at him, then walked back, bringing herself close to him again. She stood close to let him know she wasn't afraid. His hand touched her naked shoulder. "I see, you still wear my brand," he noted. The brand he had given her and the other Jedi who survived the attack on Kashykk.
Olee gave him another half-smile. "Yeah. That." she replied in a bored voice. "I've learned to accept it." She met his eyes, swung her head, then with one parting look over her shoulder, she spoke again:
"I guess you'll always be a part of me, Lord Vader."
Again, the smile played on her lips. She shrugged. Vader watched as she walked away. When Olee was almost out of sight, he signaled one of his stormtroopers.
"Have her arrested."
"What are the charges, sir?"
"Indecency," he replied.
