Chapter 1
The planet hung against a backdrop of stars, an untouched world of blue and green; from this distance, uninhabited. A slow stream of ships were descending towards the world belying that image. Among them a rusty freighter flew, having just dropped out of hyperspace. With much protesting, it descended through the atmosphere, making it's objections known upon landing on the cracked permacrete. The door hissed open, allowing bright, tropical sun to permeate the hull and its inhabitants, including two pilots who resembled the ship more and more each day. Disembarking, the duo pulled behind them two long chains, connected to their sorry cargo of souls. The slaves blinked, eyes watering in the brilliant sun, basking in the brief warmth offered after the cold of space.
The captives were given little time to rest however, pulled onward to their new residence, a white stone manor that would never be called home; circular towers gleaming in the sun. The visual luxury of the world vanished all to quickly as the slaves were lead inside, heavy brass doors returning them once more to darkness and cold. A young twi'lek woman, eyes bright with suppressed tears watched as the last view of the green forest and blue sky vanished, leaving nothing behind except for the growing dread in the pit of her stomach.
The weight of terrible anticipation did not lessen as the slaves made their way slowly down a steep set of stairs, the air growing cold and dank as they went; the heavy chains around necks, wrists and ankles created an off-beat melody in the silence. Slowly, the clanking was joined by the tones of real music emanating up from the main hall. As they descended, the song grew in volume, the rapid beat accompanied by in increase in the smell: alcohol and sweat mingling with something rotten.
The twi'lek stepped down into a pit, crowded with beings of all descriptions, most either heavily armored or wearing next to nothing at all. She couldn't see the lord of the den, but she could guess where he was, behind a thick wall of smoke, through which only vague shapes could be gleaned. Her and her company may as well have been ghosts for they were payed no notice as people came up to the pilots, ready with handshakes and claps on backs. "Your highness," called out one of them as they stepped deeper into the smoke, "we have returned with your new slaves, fresh from Zygerria."
A low voice boomed through the oily smoke in Huttese, followed by a more automated one. "The mighty Arok wonders what has taken you so long? These slaves were due several rotations ago."
"I am sorry my lord," the swagger was gone from the pilot's posture and the barest hint of a grin darted across the twi'lek's face. "We were delayed by the new Imperial checkpoint in the Centares system."
"Arok is uninterested in your excuses." The droid relayed. "Bring forward his new property. He will deal with your delay later." Stammering, the slavers hauled on their chains, sending the slaves stumbling forwards, the twi'lek at the end choking as she gasped in the smoke. Before her, a massive Hutt was revealed, his beady orange eyes roving over them all as if they were no more than his next meal. "The glorious Arok wonders how much you paid for these sorry excuses for slaves."
The twi'lek could only wonder when she had ever seen anything less glorious than the slug before her. "500 credits for the lot." The lead slaver regained some of his confidence, standing up straight once again. There was a moment of silence, tension so thick it could have been cut with a lightsaber. Arok laughed, a horrible, guttural noise, like someone retching.
"The almighty Arok congratulates you on your excellent bargaining on his behalf." The droid relayed once the Hutt had finally quieted. "You are forgiven for your lateness this time. You may each choose one of Arok's property for the night." As the slavers gave an awkward attempted at a bow, the twi'lek's eyes filled with impotent anger and smoldering hatred. Her heart gave a painful contraction as one of them made eye contact with her, rage making way for the fear that always seemed foremost in her heart these days. With fumbling hands, he released her from the rest of the group who were quickly lead away, along with the illusion of safety she had been enjoying. The other slaver had chosen a young human, hardly more than a child, fear and anger melted into sympathy and sorrow. At least her childhood had been free of such experiences.
"What's your name dear?" He grabbed her face, pulling it to look at him. Heart hammering, she met her captor's eyes and tried to act braver than she felt. When her answer was not forthcoming, he began to squeeze.
"Hera." She provided reluctantly, barely resisting the urge to spit in his face.
The grubby human wasted little time after that.
She watched as he went to the bar for yet another round. Hera was beginning to hope he would be so drunk he wouldn't manage to do anything but pass out in an hour or so. She could hope for that yet. From her vantage point at a table next to the bar, she could see the door that lead back outside. She was almost desperate enough to try and run for it where it not for the dancers that filled the space between her and her escape, as well as the chains enveloping her and the guards that stood ready on either side of the door and around the bar. Still, she couldn't tear her eyes away from it, as though to look away would be to submit to her fate. Not that she had done a very good job of resisting fate at late. Her mind flinched away from throughs of the slave markets as Zygerria and the hot sun burning down on her bare neck.
Shaking her head to clear away her thoughts like so many moths, her eyes fixed on the dancers in front of her, bruised, emaciated girls wearing large, fake smiles. One of them, a human with dark hair, who looked the same age as Hera, had a back covered in scars so numerous, it was hard to find a patch of bare skin, her wisps of cloths doing nothing to cover the brutality she must have faced. As the human girl spun, her eyes briefly locked onto Hera's and in them she could see nothing but defeat. She looked away. She was not going to die here, cold, alone and unloved.
Half a glass of warm beer suddenly broke her concentration as it hit the back of her neck, running down the rags that covered her. Spinning around, she saw the slaver, staggering away from a Trandoshan who had just stood up. Perhaps they would fight, maybe the lizard would kill the very drunk human who was currently stumbling backwards, confusion on his face. To Hera's dismay, the Trandoshan gave a look over towards the guards on either side of the bar and the Hutt outlined in some across the rom and thought better of it.
With an effort, the human staggered to his seat, too close for comfort, apparently unware he had lost half of his beer on her. "Aren't you havin' fun girl?" Hera didn't respond, too busy glaring at the back of the Trandoshan who had failed to get her into a marginally better situation.
She gasped as the glass of bear hit her in the face, shattering against her cheek. "Aren't you havin' fun?" He yelled, swinging the jagged base of the glass wildly. Nearly paralyzed with shock, Hera nodded, face a blaze of agony as she reached up with bound hands to try and feel her face. The guard turned to look, and seeing her and her chains, turned away, bored. The pain of her face was nothing compared to the fearful twisting of her heart, pounding so hard it might explode. Her hope of moments ago seemed very distant. Unknowing or uncaring of her pain, or possibly both, the pilot chose that moment to grab her, hauling her clumsily onto his lap. Instinctively, she pushed away with all her strength, but despite his drunkenness, he held her fast, pushing his mouth against her lips even as she strained away.
There was very little she could do, pushed up against him, her body frozen in horror as his hands drifted downwards and under her soaked shirt. Then, everything happened very quickly. His hands briefly too distracted to hold her against him, she shoved him in the chest with all of her might, simultaneously flinging herself backwards. The chair they were both on fell over with a crash, him still sitting in it. Hera landed hard on her back, laying there for a brief stunned moment before the guard loomed over her.
"What's all this then?" The Ugnaut looked around briefly before helping the pilot to his feet while Hera scrambled to hers, breathing hard. A rabbit in a trap, she looked desperately around the room, searching for a friendly face, but no one was even pausing attention. She was turning towards the door when a punch hit her in the stomach with the force of a tank, sending her sprawling and breathless back to the ground.
"That'll teach 'er." The slaver shook out his hand before kicking her in the stomach. Too out of breath to scream, she moaned, trying to curl up into a ball. "Sometimes you gotta break 'em first."
The girl with a back of scars watched from across the room as the twi'lek fell, hitting the ground hard. A distant, long dormant part of her mind wished to help, to run over and protect that woman from what was sure to be a horrible night. But that part of her mind had been kept dormant for a reason. There was nothing she could do to help the twi'lek. She couldn't even get herself out of this situation. Her own helplessness was a wound long since scabbed over, a wound that had never healed, but re-opened and bled every night as she tried to sleep. Yet still, there was nothing she could do.
Her feet moved without conscious thought as she danced, a skill mastered early, though her mind had very little else to occupy itself with while she moved. To fill the space, she watched, eyes scanning the crowd, discerning who was paying attention to her in particular, and not because of her mediocre dancing ability. She made note of who was drunk, who wasn't drinking, who was just arriving and who looked as though they were about to leave. All in an effort to prepare herself for her own horrible night. She had no control of what happened to her, but she could at least be prepared for it. Today however, there was a sparse crowd. She may have once seen it as an opportunity for escape. Now the thought drifted at the back of her mind, no energy for effort attached to it. It was more painful to wait and plan and hope and be foiled than it was to exist here, half alive. The woman supposed it was a lesson that all the girls here had learned, one way or another.
As she completed another circuit of the room, her eyes were brought back to the twi'lek, being hauled back to her feet. There was a fire in that woman's eyes, blazing as brightly as the red of the blood against her cheek. It would take some work to put that wildfire out, but she was certain that this place would get it done, one way or another. It was then that the drunken man with the twi'lek's eyes caught her, and like a fish on a line she was caught.
"You! Girl!" he didn't even bother to point in her direction. They both knew. She moved as close as her chains would allow and waited for a guard to release her.
The slaver was very smug as he led both of the slaves out of the main hall, as though he had charmed these women into what he was about to do to them. The dancer could feel pity from the twi'lek as they walked behind the pilot, without having to meet her gaze. Pity and fear. The dancer knew, she was not anyone's idea of a future. "What's your name?" The twi'lek asked, almost too softly to be heard. "I'm Hera."
The girl looked up, Hera's face was still bleeding, several shards of glass piking out. There was more fear in her eyes that she had thought. "Fen."
"Quiet!" The man yanked at the chains, sending both young women stumbling forwards. Fen lowered her head once more, she knew what kind of man this slaver was. It was not going to be a pleasant evening.
Some part of her mind was already disengaged before they entered the dark, but surprisingly clean room that reeked of fear. There was only so much horror and brutality that her mind could take. That limit had been reached ages ago. She had learned the hard way how to be present in body and not in mind. Hera, on the other hand, was one the verge of causing herself yet more suffering. Body tense and eyes wide, the other slave was uncommitted between fight or flight, but looked as though she were ready to break at any moment.
The door hissed shut behind them and the slaver hit the lock. There was something final about that noise that completed Fen's separation from herself. "Now girls, let's have some fun." She could smell the alcohol on his breath, even from this distance. He made the mistake of reaching for Hera first. Without bothering to remove the chains, he reached for Hera's soaked garments. Before a finger touched the twi'lek's green skin, she threw a punch sending him stumbling backwards, groaning. The feeling of menace in the room grew exponentially as the slaver staggered upright, groaning. "You'll pay for that." Fen tensed, but remained standing where she was.
Despite his drunkenness, the slaver moved alarmingly fast. Hera ducked around him and raised her fists, looking to Fen to help. Even if there were two of them and only one of him, he was bigger, stronger and most importantly had probably eaten a full meal sometime within memory. Hera had not yet come to this realization. "Help me!" Her desperate plea, mixed with the desperation in her eyes was not part of Fen's anticipated plans. Torn between avoiding wrath herself and helping Hera, the slaver pinned the twi'lek against a wall. Hera held eye contact as Fen failed to move, fear turning to dismay and disgust. In her eyes, Fen saw herself, both as she used to be and as she now was. Something ignited, a fuse lit. Fen moved.
Without conscious thought, Fen pushed herself between Hera and the slaver, shoving him backwards again. He recovered quickly and, too indignant for words, wrapped his meaty fists around Fen's neck and began to squeeze. Fen tried to throw a punch at his face but the angle was wrong and he only squeeze harder. Hera tried to pull him off as he forced Fen down to her knees but he was too determined now. Frantically, Fen grabbed his hands, trying to pull them off of her neck, but his grip was too strong and now there were bright lights popped against her vision.
Her lungs screamed for air.
Distantly, she could hear the twi'lek yelling.
Anger, sharp and bright flared up inside of her, a powder keg finally igniting.
Without hesitation, she broke the dam and drew on the anger. Limitless power filled her veins. The slaver's hands flew from her neck and on to his own. Fen gasped with relief, but held on to her rage. Rising to her feet, arm outstretched, she lifted the slaver into the air without touching him. He writhed there as Fen imagined squeezing his neck. The fury and wild joy coursed through Fen blinding her and washing over her like a wave. For a moment, she was limitless, she was freedom itself.
With a pop, the slaver's neck snapped and he slumped to the floor. Life force gone and with it, Fen's burst of unholy power. She was within herself again, slumping back to the ground and gasping for air with tears running down her cheeks.
"You're a Jedi?" Fen looked up to the twi'lek, who looked shocked, but unafraid, even pleased. Her eyes flickered from Fen to the body. Fen could hardly breath in the aftermath of so much power. "Why haven't you escaped yet?"
"I…." Her eyes were drawn to the body, to the absence of life. There were no answers in her mind. It simply hadn't happened. "I don't know" she admitted finally. "It seemed impossible." The Force had been so distant, so impossibly out of reach for so many years now, she no longer relied upon it. It was one explanation.
"Well." Hera gave her a curious look, but accepted Fen's version of events for now. She seemed to have recovered quickly from the fight, or perhaps she was seizing the momentum rather than getting lost in her fear. "We have to get out of here." Hera immediately knelt down and began to search the body.
"Get out?" Fen pulled her eyes up from the body, pulling her mind from within, from the gap inside her she had forgotten about. "How in the Force are we going to do that?" Grabbing the keys for their chains, Hera shrugged.
"We'll find a way, Better than trying to stay here at any rate. What do you think they'll do once they find the body?" Fen didn't want to think about trying to explain this situation. She didn't know how much Arok knew about her when he bought her all that time ago and she didn't want to give him the opportunity to have even a partly trained Jedi at his disposal.
"Well," Fen ran through a map of the palace she had slowly created in her mind. "There are only a few ways out of here and all of the ones I know go back through the main hall in one way or another.
"Then we'll have to wait until later, once it clears out a bit. "Hera gave up her search for a blaster, palming the slaver's comm unit instead. Nodding, Fen sat down on the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest. She had allowed herself to develop a routine here, to draw comfort from the fact that, day in and day out, she knew what to expect. Without intent or conscious thought, she had allowed herself to accept slavery and all that came with it. She had accepted that she would die here, alone and unloved. Hugging her knees, she shuddered, fear of the unknown and fear of what she had become warring inside of her.
"I guess we wait then." Hera looked around the room, but there was little else they could take beside sheets and some oversized clothes. Pulling herself up on the bed beside Fen, they sat in silence for a few long moments, both staring at the body sprawled across the floor. "How… How long have you been here?" Hera finally asked. The compassion in the twi'lek's eyes twisted a knife in Fen's gut. What had she allowed herself to become?
"I'm not sure, do you know the date?" She couldn't bring herself to look Hera in the eyes, instead looking at the reflective shards in Hera's cheek. "May I?" Hera inclined her head and Fen slowly began to pull out the glass.
"Its…. You know, I don't think I know the day either. The Empire Day celebrations must have been what, a month ago by now."
"Empire day?" Fen stopped briefly, hefting the glass collected in her palm. "What's that?"
"It's the anniversary of the founding of the Empire. The first one ever." There was something bitter and unspoken at the end of the sentence, but if Fen had learned anything there, it was how not to appear to pry.
"I've only heard vague mentions of the Empire; do you know what's been going on? What happened to the Republic?" Once, Fen had been so sure her destiny would carry her to the center of events, and now it seemed they had quiet passed her by. As the pair waited, they spoke of recent history in low voices, the fall of the Jedi, the rise of the Empire, disappearances and crackdowns. Of Hera's own past, she learned nothing, and offered nothing in return. As their soft voices filled the room, Fen felt, for the first time in a long time, that she was not alone.