A/N: Extra long chapter is extra long! LOL. Apparently my muse wanted to write this, so here it is. Thank you to everyone that has read, reviewed, followed, favorited and sent private messages. This story is better from your input. Truly, it is. :) Special shout out to Malicean, Hoplite39, and Admiral Mitth'raw'nuruodo for the lovely reviews this time around. :D

Special thanks to Hoplite39 for the use of several concepts such as order numbers, conditioning drugs, and the use of OCs. Please check out the story Loyal soldier of the Empire - Journal of an Imperial Stormtrooper and Band of Sisters - The Lost Stormtrooper Company for a few of the OCs that make appearances here. You'll love both stories, trust me! :D

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. Please do not sue. This is purely for fun.


Like everything else on this battle station, I was routinely depressed. I say routinely because there was nothing but routine. Duty for breakfast every day, responsibility for lunch, and honor for dinner. It shouldn't have been that much of a surprise, given that this was a military installation. Those things should have been expected. Yet I found myself sleeping too much and simply not giving a damn about anything in the past week.

I mean, why should I? My entire future was planned out by my Uncle and brother, my clothing chosen by my new attendant. What was there to care about? So I took a page from the Imperial Handbook and "routinely" stopped caring.

That's when life on the Death Star started to settle into something akin to normalcy, patterns of behavior and habit quickly imprinting themselves upon me. It's amazing how much one can remember of a life they had hated so much, how nightmares can become the reality in the blink of an eye. Only two weeks into my new life as the unofficial Imperial "Gem" of the station, and it felt like my life on Alderaan had been the creation of a sleep-addled imagination, a fleeting fantasy to escape the rut of my daily life.

Every day it was pretty much the same thing: woken by my new personal attendant, Layla, at five in the station's established "morning" for bathing and dressing. I was allowed time for a single cup of tea by myself before I was ushered into Con's private dining room for breakfast with him from six to seven. I was thankful for my depression then. Not caring about anything made pretending that everything was fine, that I hadn't seen him order that poor woman tortured, an easy deception.

My brother wasn't an idiot, though. He knew something was wrong, that something had been wrong since my outing with Admiral Batch. It took forever to convince him that I was merely "homesick" for Alderaan and the friends I had left behind. That it had nothing to do with Martio. In any event, he was distracted with joy at my use of Admiral Batch's first name after only one meeting with the man.

I was faintly surprised he hadn't ordered my wedding gown already.

Instead, I filled breakfast with prattling on about nothing or listening to him go on about the things he was allowed to tell me. And from seven to nine I was left alone, expected to do my "correspondence" and comm. calls with friends during this time. Writing thank you letters to those that had sent me gifts, or just letters to home. The letters I'd written and encrypted to all those vipers in my social class, going on about how wonderful Martio was, and how I sincerely hoped that he'd propose, and what a lovely wife I would be for him. How glorious it was to be on the finest battle station the Empire had ever created. How grand my life was, and how everyone should envy me.

How absolutely full of drivel. I was following Uncle's orders as surely as if I wore a uniform and saluted every time he walked by.

But write them I did, because I was expected to, and because I knew that Uncle read each and every one of them. Until the day that Martio Batch or some other political pawn signed the dowry agreement, Uncle was going to keep me on a very short leash.

I could feel the slave collar tightening around my throat with each passing day, the lock just millimeters from engaging.

From nine to eleven, I was free to wander to the "approved" portions of the station. Free being the operative word. I was always escorted by the ever present stormtrooper duo, and now by Layla. The former always three steps behind me with charged weapons ready. The latter always next to me in case I needed anything. I had to wonder if she was a bodyguard, too. Some sort of assassin hidden behind a face just shy of being truly lovely. Pleasant, unassuming, easy to ignore or forget.

Like the faceless stormtroopers. Stars, was everything here meant to make the eye drift away from it, to never focus on anything or anyone for too long?

The "approved areas" consisted of select cantinas and observation decks, the lounges (when unoccupied by officers, that was), and the tiny shops that displayed their wares. One would think that a military installation would be devoid of these kinds of things. On a station the size of a moon, where not every section could be given a viewport, a certain level of comfort had to be provided. For the sanity of all that served on this mammoth thing.

The shops changed with the sectors the station traveled through, of course. There were no established shopping malls on the Death Star. More like a slice of a few decks wherein kiosks could be erected swiftly and deconstructed just as swiftly without leaving a trace. Making leave time less likely to occur, what with being able to shop for one's self or those they loved, or experience the foods and beverages native to the system they were in, without leaving the comforts of "home."

Efficient, that. And so very sneaky in its controlling nature. No need to log departures of millions of personnel when they had everything to keep them happy and productive right here. Like a form of slavery all its own. How very thoughtful of Uncle to make sure everyone loved their cages so much they never wanted to leave.

From eleven to noon I was expected to nap and "refresh" myself. As from noon to one, it was lunch with Uncle and whatever lackey he deemed worthy of his presence that day. My only saving grace consisted of the fact that the food was always excellent and I wasn't expected to open my mouth other than to eat or drink. Save for tiny fits of laughter at the right time, or to answer a question that was meant only to make me feel like I was included. Not for my benefit, of course, but so as to not offend Uncle by ignoring his niece. At least, it went that route when they realized the invitation to lunch did not include the prospect of marrying Uncle's favorite niece.

Then I was just another… how did Cassio put it? Just another duty, another trial to endure on their unending climb to greater glory.

Cassio… Stars, what was I going to do about that man? I thought about him as I gazed out the viewport at the molten sky of hyperspace, the station moving towards wherever else the Emperor needed it. I was on my second 'free period of the day,' the time between one and three where I was expected to stroll about the more official parts of the station, so that officers of higher rank could see me. So I could gift them with a vision of grace and beauty, to lift their moral with my smile and remind them why they fought for their Empire.

Literally. That was how Uncle had phrased his "suggestion."

"Little Tessa, my doveling, it pains me to see you so confined to such a small area. Admiral Batch has informed me that he's shown you much of the station in your forays, and the sector commanders are aglow with praise at your visits. Why not continue them? Every man in uniform should be so lucky as to be gifted with a vision of grace and beauty, to lift their moral with your smile and remind them why they fight for our great Empire."

And like the great coward I was, I obliged him. I let him, Con, and Layla set "a schedule most appropriate" for me that had me fitting seamlessly into the great Imperial War Machine. The only member, I was willing to wager, that was conscripted without having to wear the uniform. That's how I ended up on the grand observation platform once again, pretending to visit with Master Chief Tenn Graneet and his team of master gunnery officers, while the ghosts of gala's past danced through my thoughts.

I had so little time to enjoy them, these ghosts. Soon Layla would move me to my next appointment, to bathe anew and dress again for dinner this time. Always dinner at promptly five, and always with Martio Batch. Which would be promptly followed by another stroll through the station to show me something new. Always to return me to Con by nine. And those precious, wonderful minutes between nine and ten when I was truly, utterly alone in my room. Before the fatigue overtook me, and Con or Layla made the suggestion that I turn in for the night.

I savored those minutes to myself, just as I savored the thoughts that replayed behind my eyes now.

Was it really here that a hidden art museum had existed? Here, where there was nothing more than smooth unbroken panels of durasteel, that had once contained the room that had altered my future so completely? No hidden latch tripped as the warmth of my fingers seeped into that cold metal, no clicking sound, no door swinging open as it had for Cassio. And certainly there was no rush of random wickedness, no sensation of wild abandon that had caused me to let that man, who for years upon years stood as brother to my tormentor and rival, whisk me away to a nearly passionate kiss.

There wasn't even that elusive jolt of erotic heat at the memory of Cassio's hand on the small of my back, his other tipping my head upwards… Stars, what was wrong with me? Had it really been a week that I'd roved about this place like a ghost, myself? Repeating instructed phrases and half-remembered platitudes?

"Moff Tarkin had it removed."

I jerked, feeling the first real emotion since the anger I'd experienced in Uncle's office. A tremulous thread of fear that was quickly squashed in a deluge of unfeeling. Cassio Tagge stood behind me. I could see his faint reflection in the viewport, barely more than a watery ghost. Just as I could see the Master Chief signal to his team to find something else to do on the station. Leaving me alone with Cassio and Layla and my guards.

"Did he?" I asked, voice sounding dull and distant… and perfectly aloof.

"He did," Cassio continued, closing the distance until he stood next to me. One raised hand had my stormtroopers retreating to the farthest corner of the room. A glance from him had Layla's lips firming in a line of disapproval, but she also retreated to a far distance. "The pieces were sold at auction or given away to those that attended the gala. He said he did not want anything to remind him of the night his beloved niece fell so seriously ill under his watch."

Seriously ill… if I had the wherewithal to laugh snidely, I would have. It all seemed like too much effort, and really, what would it get me? Nothing. There was just no use in arguing with anything Uncle said or did. So why bother?

But something about selling or destroying the art bothered me. I felt myself grow faint. "There was a painting from Alderaan in there. The Truth in the Petal, I believe it was called. Was it…"

"That one was purchased by General Bast," he glanced at me, frowning slightly. "Why do you ask? Tessa, are you alright?"

The sensation of tears falling down my cheeks was strange. I had no idea if they were from relief that that painting I'd shared with Admiral Thrawn was safe, or out of how much that painting had cost me, personally, at his hand. I couldn't tell. It was hard to tell much of anything outside of my normal routine these days.

"You're crying," his hands fell onto my shoulders, squeezing faintly. "Tessa, I told you once that you could tell me anything. I meant it. I… I wanted to see you before now. Time and duty would not allow it."

I glanced back at the viewport, not wanting to meet his eyes. "It's okay, Cassio. You don't have to cover for my brother. I know you time and duties would allow for a visit. Just as I know he tossed your gifts and denied you any access to me."

His frown deepened. And one hand slipped beneath my chin, turning my face back to his. "Are you certain you are alright? This isn't like you at all. What happened to that woman that flew in the face of all tradition time and again?"

She was beaten until she nearly broke, and forced to accept her place. She's being sold like cattle even now, so really, what's the point in fighting anymore? "Perhaps it's time I grew up," I found myself saying, all the while a small part of me started to scream. I just had no idea why. "It was a pipe dream, Cassio. To think that they'd let you and I be together at all? The notion is laughable. Domina would rather see you dead, and Con would see me married to a Wookie, first."

I tried to turn away, found his hands like inflexible bars of steel. The look in his eyes just as hard. "That's the only reason? That's why you've agreed to marry Martio Batch?"

All I could do was shrug. "I don't have a choice. We don't have a choice. Even now, I'm certain Uncle is planning your marriage as well. Anything to ensure his political agenda is met. It's who and what we are."

"It's not what I am," he said firmly. "And it's not who you are."

"You are a man. More than that, you are a High General of the Empire. You can make that choice. You know that I can't. Even if I was to say no, Uncle would see Domina wed to Batch. Do you want that for your sister?"

He snorted, eyes still hard. "Domina would be overjoyed at such a union. I would fear more for the Admiral than I would for my sister. You know as well as I that Domina lives for these sorts of things, thrives on scandals and intrigues and political dealings. Tessa, you are not acting like yourself. Come with me to medical right now."

I shook my head, pulling back as he tried to tug me forward. "I can't. I'm just… I'm tired right now, Cassio. Besides, I don't have time. I must be ready for dinner promptly at five."

That must have set off all sorts of alarms in his head. The expression on his face said as much. Certainly that voice that had started screaming was growing louder. Did he see it in my eyes? Did I even care? This was all so dreadfully taxing and dreary and utterly boring. Just another event in a schedule I was forced to keep.

Cassio stepped up to me once more, fingers lacing with mine. "Tessa, how long have you felt like this? Felt tired and bored."

"I've been like this since I was a child, Cassio. You know that."

"No, this is more recent. You are sleeping when you are told to sleep, aren't you. Motti or Tarkin only have to suggest that you are fatigued and you find yourself moving towards your bed. Your schedule, though you hate it, seems more and more reasonable every day. The order of it, the routine, is more refreshing than any rest you have. Tell me any of this is incorrect, Tessa."

This was absurd… wasn't it? It was logical that Con and Uncle would know when I was tired. I grew up with them, for crying out loud! It was also logical that I'd be fatigued all the time. I was depressed, wasn't I? Wasn't that a normal symptom of shock after watching the horror my brother unleashed on that poor girl? Was it so bad that I hid in my schedule to avoid spending time with Con anymore than was necessary because of what I'd seen? That I'd cling to Martio for the distractions he provided so I wouldn't have to see that Theran woman's broken face and fingers every time I closed my eyes?

My silence seemed to indicate my answer.

Real emotion worked into his eyes, an anger so cold it rivaled hyperspace for its intensity. So opposite of Con, I mused absently, who was all heat and flame and explosion. So different from Martio, who seemed to internalize everything and sort it into logical patterns before making a decision. Cassio was the cold of marble, of frozen steel etched with a list of those that crossed him. So he would never make the same mistake again. So he would never forget a wrong.

It had served him so well in his career.

"You are being drugged, Tessa," He said coldly, through clenched teeth.

Oh, for the love of… this was really getting ridiculous. "Now you are the one not acting like yourself," I said. "That's impossible. Who would dare do such a thing to me? Con and Uncle both have systems to detect any drug in any of the food we eat."

"Yes, they do. Which is why I believe they are the ones doing it."

"To what end? Cassio, this is all absurd! I'm not experiencing any symptoms of poisoning."

"It's not a poison, Tessa. At least, not completely. If I'm right, you're ingesting a conditioning drug given to new recruits who pass the tests to become stormtroopers. It leaves the mind susceptible to suggestion in its early stages, adjusting the neural transmitters in your mind to accommodate faster subconscious thought and reflexes. The effects are accelerated if the subject is immediately put onto a rigid schedule, regulating all independent thought to the barest levels. The initial side effects include fatigue, which most attribute to the new, oftentimes harsh, schedule."

My mouth opened and closed and opened again. And that part of me that had started screaming before went eerily silent. Accepting of what was being said, that something was indeed wrong with me.

Oh stars above! If it was true… but wait, wasn't I accepting this suggestion all too easy? If it was true, wasn't he programming me, too? Conditioning me against Con and Uncle? Oh stars, I didn't know… I couldn't know…

"After its early stage, what then?"

Cassio's lips compressed a moment. "The changes become permanent, Tessa. After a month of use, the body begins to reject the drug. The pathways in the mind having adjusted to the desired configuration as assigned by the officer in charge of psychiatric evaluation. A new drug is introduced, less potent than the first, that encourages independent thought within set parameters. Our stormtroopers receive this through their rations, each mix custom tailored to their needs.

"They take it willingly," he continued in a rush, probably at the horror on my face. "Tessa, every man and woman that puts on the white armor wants to be here. Full disclosure is made during every step of the program. They sign a statement of acknowledgement before the first drug is administered. They're tested over and over again for mental acuity and soundness of mind before they are accepted into the program."

"But I'm not in the program. How… how is this happening?"

Some of the coldness left that gaze, and he brought our laced fingers to his lips, kissing them gently. "You said it yourself. 'Anything to make certain his political agenda is met.'"

"Martio," I breathed. "Uncle's making sure I don't screw up and offend Martio. He's… he's making me into the perfect woman, just like I'm certain he promised Martio I would be. Oh, stars… Cass. What-what do I do?"

"Stop eating or drinking anything that's brought to you. Starting now. Get your own food somehow, either buy it in the market or eat in the restaurants or cantinas. There will be withdrawal symptoms. Headaches, periods of deep fatigue or manic actions as your mind slips back to its natural flow of thought. I'll do what I can to have food brought to you, or an agent to counteract the drugs in the food. Don't rely on it, though. Do what you can to secure food for yourself.

"Take up a hobby or two. Shake up your schedule. Make random turns in hallways on impulse. These things promote independent thought," he continued. "If we are right, and you've only suffered the effects for few weeks, a few days should rid your body of it. I'm so sorry, Tessa. I wish I could do more. If this is Tarkin behind it, I've risked us both in saying as much."

"No," I soothed, putting his hands to my lips this time. "No, you've done so much already. Why you even risk yourself for me—"

"Do you even have to ask that?" he said. "Tessa, you are right in that the so-called powers-that-be of our families will not let us be together. I can live with that. Kriff, I've lived with it since you walked into my life at school. What I can't live with is you marrying someone against your will, having your thoughts taken from you. That I will not let happen."

The way he looked at me, his eyes shadowed and clear at the same time, emotions unexpressed in those dark eyes. I was rising up on tiptoe before I knew it. Could we really have that kiss, the one that should have happened in this very place, in an art gallery that no longer existed? His head bent down—

-and I felt the disappointing yet exhilarating rush of his lips on my forehead.

"I am not them," he said against my hair. "I will not kiss you when you are not yourself. I will not steal that from you. When we correct this, we'll revisit the chance again. But not now. I'll not add to your troubles. I promised you that from the beginning."

He stepped back, letting go of my hands and headed in the direction of the turbolift. Once again I was left alone on the dance floor, the specters of what could have been alive in my thoughts. Only the sharp gaze of Layla as it stabbed into Cassio's back brought me to the present. That, and the loud snap of stormtrooper boots coming to attention behind me.

"Come, my lady," Layla said in her pleasant voice, slipping her arm companionably through mine. "That horrible man has taken too much of your time. We'll have to carve out some time later tomorrow to visit with Master Chief Graneet again. I'm certain he's upset that his time with you was cut so short. Now let's think on pleasant things, shall we? Like dinner tonight with Admiral Batch. He's such a gentleman as compared to other unsavory types here on the station."

Her eyes flickered back to the turbolift, her gaze looping Cassio in with "unsavory" elements. And stars help me, but I found myself nodding. Found it so much easier to agree that Martio, with his gifts and delighted smile at any question I ask and tolerance of my strange exploration notions of the station, was the better man for me. A bright future of wealth and affluence… and all it would cost me was my free will.

Oh how wrong I had been in thinking Uncle only controlled my flesh.


I stared at the glass of water that Layla had set on my vanity table, fighting to keep my hands in my lap. They wanted to reach forward, to do as she suggested and sip the cool, refreshing liquid. My mouth was dry, parched with the thought of how delicious it would taste. Would one sip really be that bad? Something to moisten my lips, maybe, so they weren't so withered with thirst. Yes, I should do that. I should at least wet my lips so that Martio wouldn't find them unresponsive and rough—

"Oh my!" I exclaimed, backhanding the glass with a vengeance. Just anything to remove the temptation from me. Liquid and crystal both hit the wall with a satisfying crashing sound. "I'm so sorry, Layla. How clumsy of me."

"Were you hurt?" Layla exclaimed, rushing back into the room and taking my hand. Searching for shards.

"No, thankfully," my laugh was a little strained. How I wanted that drink! "I'm…. well…. It's just nerves, I guess," I lied quickly. "About the dinner tonight. It's been a week now, and Con expects an announcement of intent to negotiate for my hand at any moment now."

She laughed sweetly. "What an amazing bride you will be, my lady. The envy of every man and woman in the Empire! Mayhap your event will eclipse Wynnsa Starflare and Baron Fel's wedding for its grandeur."

I shook my head with a rueful grin that felt more like a grimace. "I'm not that popular as a holonet star like Wynssa, nor is Martio a hot-shot TIE pilot like the Baron. He's a scientist primarily, and I like my privacy. Most likely we'll want a quiet affair so he can get back to work as soon as possible."

Layla's smile deepened. "You sell yourself short, my lady. Just look at yourself," she steered me back to the vanity, picking up a brush and running it through my hair. "You are more enchanting than any holonet floozy. Baroness now or not, you know Wynssa came from common stock. You have breeding and natural beauty. Hair soft and dark as good sable cloth, eyes that are large and sparkle like amethysts. And none of it a trick of the camera or chemically enhanced. You are twice the beauty of Baroness Fel. So much so that your Admiral will wish to spend decades with you instead of researching this or that."

My Admiral… as if he was the one being sold to me and not the other way around.

I swallowed to try and work moisture into my throat. It felt like years since I'd had something to drink, not merely a few hours. "You forget that the newly created Baroness is the Emperor's favorite holonet star. Did you that the Emperor, himself, offered her the leading female role in The Mercy of Emperor Palpatine?"

"Truly?" Layla answered, working my curls into a stack on the back of my head, securing it with a bejeweled hair net. "I didn't realize the Emperor had consented to having his opera made into a holodrama."

"He did," I found myself saying, really giggling. Losing myself again in the suggestions of conversation. I had to focus harder! "She turned it down, with gracious apologies to His Majesty, as she was pregnant with her first child. The filming would be too much of a strain on the baby. He graciously accepted her reason."

"That is the glory of the Emperor for you. How one man could be so magnanimous and still keep himself from being taken advantage of by that corrupted Senate with its blathering, ungrateful senators, I'll never know. Did you see the latest outrage against our loving ruler?"

"No, I didn't."

"It's that Alderaan Senator causing trouble again. That Leia Organa child. Now she is protesting the creation of the Super Star Destroyers! Her and that Mon Mothma woman," She sniffed irritably. "They called the project a waste of resources. Imagine, calling the mightiest ship in the fleet a 'waste.' If I were Empress, I'd have their tongues pulled from their lying mouths and nailed to the doors of the Senate building as a reminder of what happens to those that waste my time. Of all the things our Empire faces, they choose that to filibuster over. Not worlds facing poverty or hunger. Not threats from rebelling planets. No, they choose something the Senate approved years and years ago. I tell you, there is no justice in the Senate anymore. Just a bunch of decadent self-important children."

I frowned before I could stop myself. "Maybe she had a point…" I tried. I had no love for Leia, at least not since we graduated school and went our separate ways. But Cassio had said to be different, random.

Layla's snort of derision let me know that she disagreed with me. "Well, if she did, my lady, it was so far hidden in her words that no one understood it. They say that tensions with Alderaan are getting so bad that the Senate has approved a special Envoy to mediate with Queen Breha and Prince Organa, completely bypassing their radical daughter."

"Let's hope the envoy can bring peace," I hedged. "We don't want another system in open revolt like Contruum."

"You can add Chandrila to that list, too, my lady."

I jerked at that, spinning to face her and nearly undoing all of Layla's work. "The Chandrila system is in rebellion, too?"

"More like occupation now," Layla went on, delicately turning my face back to the mirror and securing the last of the gemstones to my hair. "His Majesty sent in legions of his best troops to pacify the planet. Once they agree to the sanctions against them for this outrage, I'm certain the whole thing will go away. Unles, the Emperor, in his grand wisdom, may see greater mercy in making an example of that planet with harsher penalties. It all depends on what he feels is best of the galaxy at large. Sanctions may not be enough. Stars knows it didn't work for Contruum."

"No, it didn't," I found myself agreeing, and then bit my tongue behind my lips until I tasted blood. There, that was lubricant enough. Maybe a moistened mouth would keep a loose tongue from just agreeing with every insipid suggestion sent my way. "Did they say which envoy was sent to Alderaan?"

Layla paused in fastening a matching jeweled bracelet around my wrist, lips pursed in thought. "I know they did. I don't remember. Apologies, my lady. I will have that information for you when you return from dinner. Now, let's think on some happier topics while we get you into your dress. I hear that your brother has ordered your favorite meal prepared in a private dining room. He's such a good man, so caring just like our Emperor…"

I stopped listening, my mouth watering at the thought of what waited for me. Which meant I had to find a way not to eat it. Somehow I knew that knocking my plate off the table wouldn't work. I had to… I just had to… But it was so hard to think past the headache blooming behind my eyes. So much so that I barely felt the dress slipping onto me, the waist drawn in tightly. All the while Layla was going on about how good my brother was to look out for me, how dashing Admiral Batch was, and what a lovely future I had in store for me.

Before I knew it, I was crossing the foyer and into the waiting arms of Martio. Drawing his mouth down to mine, and filling my head with the sweet, sweet, thoughts of a future filled with luxury and affluence.


"I have a surprise for you," Martio said, a smile on his lips that I was coming to call mischievous.

I couldn't help but smile back, patting his arm were it entwined with mine. Couldn't help but think that Con and Layla were right. This was the best match for me. Why ever had I thought differently?

"You don't have to give me anything, Martio," I replied, walking beside him down to the private dining hall. "My time with you has been my greatest gift since arriving on this station."

That smile became tender, his arm drawing me closer in a way that was just shy of too intimate. "You, my dear Tessa, are everything your Uncle promised and more. I wonder what a young woman like yourself would find in an old scientist like me."

I squeezed his arm affectionately, giving a ladylike sniff of mock-derision. "If you are going on again about the differences in our ages, I'll kindly remind you—for the millionth time, my dear Martio—that there is only twenty-five years between us. You, sir, will not leave your prime for another forty years. And with medical advances, I can see the average lifespan extending to one hundred and fifty instead of the one hundred and twenty we so enjoy now. Besides, matches have been arranged with far wider gaps in age than ours."

"If you are referring to the negotiation going on between Imperial Captain Avel Kand and the young Miss Estille Praji, then, yes, I would have to agree. The Young Miss isn't of marriageable age yet, and the good Captain is well into his sixties. However, I do not foresee much happiness in that union for either side, given that Captain Kand has grandchildren older than his prospective bride."

I shrugged at that. "Would it shock you to know that the arrangement for my marriage was completed when I was twelve? Hardly a marriageable age, either. I am thankful that Estille is at least seventeen now and very much aware of what is going on around her."

He didn't exactly pause in mid-stride as he slanted a rather considering look in my direction. "Twelve? If I may ask, what stopped the union from occurring when you reached the age of majority?"

The sly smile I slanted his way in return had his eyebrows arching fractionally. "My eldest brother, Eldritch, had a clause put into the marriage contract that the union was not complete until we both signed it. As it stands, I was beginning my diplomatic foray to the galaxy the day before I was to sign. It appears that Count Averstan decided not to wait for me to finish and sought another bride."

"I see. You ran away, and your Uncle found another to marry the man, freeing you up for a different union."

The blunt way he had put that had me missing a step. And laughing despite myself when he caught me. "Martio, you are full of surprises," I smiled. "If you knew all of this, why are you still here? To turn your original question back unto you, what could an honored Grand Admiral want with a flighty, unruly girl like me with a history of ignoring her elders?"

"Ray shafts."

I blinked. "I beg your pardon."

"I have never crawled through a ray shaft before, while in uniform, chasing a woman who is wearing a formal dress, while on a battle station," he said simply, taking my arm and continuing our walk. "Nor have I ever met a woman so uninterested in me, or more to the point, what political advantage I could give her, and instead spent all her time asking intelligent questions about a battle station. I can't decide if you truly do not care a whit about me, or if your lack of interest indicates that you care too much."

"So you are saying that the way to capture your interest is to ignore you?"

"No. I am saying the way you have captured my interest was to ignore me and instead present the most unusual social enigma. That has been your second greatest gift to me."

"What was the first?"

"Turning down Averstan and allowing me the opportunity to unravel that enigma."

"Ah, so when you have unlocked my puzzle, shall I be another scientific oddity you've collected? Will you grow bored and move on?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"If we marry, will you be unlikely to crawl through ray shafts on a whim?"

It was my turn to smile with that mischievous tilt to my lips. "On the contrary, I'll probably be more inclined to do so. As the High Lady Batch, I'll have a stronger name than Motti to hide behind when trouble finds me. Be forwarned, Martio. If you give me your name, I'll give you no end of difficulty in return."

His arm left mine, tucking me under it instead. And stars help me, I leaned into the warmth of his chest. "Then I will have the one thing every scientist both craves and fears: the unanswerable enigma. The unsolvable puzzle. The very thing a lifetime of research can never unravel, and still that life will not be considered a waste."

I beamed up at him. "That is the sweetest thing you could have ever said to me."

He placed a kiss upon my forehead. "That you see the compliment in that, is one of the sweetest gestures you have ever shown me."

"Then I win," I grinned.

"Win?"

"Yes, by that last statement, your argument regarding our age difference is utterly invalid. We will challenge each other forever. Therefore, I will no longer accept it from you."

His laughter rang out in the corridor. "Quite so, Tessa. What is it that you claim as your reward?"

An open ended question if ever there was one. And I did the one thing that all the voices in my head told me not to do. Random, I had to be random if I was going to beat this, right?

I stepped rapidly in front of him, grabbed the front of his dress uniform, and pulled him down into a deep, bold kiss. Not so bold for its passion or its length, but from the sheer fact that it was taking place in the middle of a hallway! Where anyone could walk past! Not that I expected anyone to, a part of me groused. Knowing Uncle, there would not be a single living being in this entire hemisphere of the station to possibly witness any slips in decorum. Not a soul to disrupt the unfolding of his political agenda.

He was shocked, alright. That was a given. But he was also a smart man, and before I knew it he had taken control of that kiss, pulling me in tight against him and nearly lifting me from the floor.

"Quite the risk-takers, aren't we?" I found myself asking when my feet touched the floor again and breath returned to my lungs. "Anyone could have seen us."

"I am not ashamed to have you on my arm, Tessa. I am not ashamed of being seen like this."

"I warned you I have a reputation for trouble. It could besmirch your good name having your kisses stolen by someone such as me."

His laughter rang out in the corridor, warm and inviting. "So now it is my reputation that is on the line? Need I remind you that I am a Grand Admiral, my Tessa? There is little that can challenge me."

"Oh, give me time, my arrogant Admiral," I chided playfully, tapping a finger on his chest. "If I can make Uncle have fits, I'm certain I can do the same to you."

"Then challenge accepted, but only on one condition," He caught that tapping finger, bringing it to his lips. "That you allow me give you that surprise I mentioned. You are in such high spirits today that I'm afraid it won't have the impact I was hoping for. I suppose I shall have to try harder in the future."

High spirits today? What did that mean?

He took my arm again before I could ask, leading me towards the largest dining room. A touch of dread wormed through the sudden lightheartedness that had washed over me with my random actions. With the actions that had been more "me" than I had been in the past week. Granted, I was probably experiencing the 'manic' side of the withdraw that Cassio had mentioned. But my head was spinning in a way that was welcomed instead of the pervasive sense of … nothing… that had cloaked my heart in the wake of those drugs.

Maybe that was what Martio meant by his comment. That he'd noticed something wrong in me was baffling! How in the stars had he noticed when I hadn't?!

So the dread I felt seemed to amplify itself, so much so that I nearly lost my footing. That dining room, the one we were rapidly approaching, belonged exclusively to Uncle. Which could only mean one thing—Uncle was joining us. Which in turn probably meant that Con was in there as well, and a great big marriage contract was the main course of the night. Just waiting for Martio's signature. I didn't need to bet on the fact that Con and Uncle would have removed that clause that required my signature. And just like that, I would be Lady Batch. I would walk through those doors a free woman and walk out sold at top dollar.

The actual marriage ceremony with its pomp and circumstance would be all for show. Everyone in the social elite knew that marriages really happened in closed offices, once the dowry was agreed upon and signatures made.

Was I getting married tonight? Was that the surprise?

My steps started to falter, my head pounding in time with a thundering pulse that had nothing to do with Martio's stolen kisses. The clichéd cold feet was all I could think about, my breath coming a little too fast. Suddenly all the bantering in the hallway, all of Layla's softly poisonous words of my future with Martio evaporated in a wave of terror. I couldn't marry him tonight. Not with all those unresolved feelings for Cassio chasing through my head! That notwithstanding, like Cassio, I wanted my marriage to be MY choice. Not when I was subdued by drugs I'd never agreed to take!

"Tessa," Martio asked, coming to a stop, all smile and good humor vanishing. "Are you alright? You are pale again. More so than in the past few days. Are you certain you are yourself?"

NO! NO, I'VE BEEN DRUGGED! I'M NOT MYSELF. YOU'RE COURTING A LIE, A FICTIONAL PERSON MY UNCLE IS TRYING TO TURN ME INTO! PLEASE DON'T DO THIS. DON'T MARRY ME WHEN I DON'T LOVE YOU. I DON'T EVEN LOVE MYSELF RGHT NOW. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DON'T DO THIS!

"Quite alright," I found myself saying instead. "Just fatigued, Martio. Nothing to worry over."

"You have been quite fatigued for several days now, Tessa. I am growing concerned that your sickness has returned. Should we go to medical instead?"

That dread was growing worse with each passing second. Stars, I couldn't let that happen. What would he think if he found out the truth? Was he part of it to begin with? Would he even care? He had to know that I didn't love him. And yet love wasn't necessarily a requirement in marriage anymore. One only had to look at Aunt Thalassa and Uncle Wil to see that. He never looked at Aunt Thalassa the way he looked at Admiral Daala. Though I had to wonder what she thought of him sleeping with someone so openly…

I shook my head. My mind was bouncing all over the place, going manic on me as Cassio had stated. But again, I couldn't tell if that was a true side effect or if I was undergoing it simply because he had suggested it! Just how often did I need a 'hit' of that drug to stay on target, how often was it put in my food? Layla brought me tea in the morning, and then I had breakfast with Con, and then tea with my correspondence, and then water after my resting period, and then dinner, and then more tea and more water before bed and … and…

I knew my mind had wandered yet again when Martio swept me off my feet, hurrying back towards the turbolift. The look on his face was pure concern, mixed with a tinge of upset.

"No, Martio, please. I'm fine. I'm—"

"Tessa, you should know by now that I do not appreciate falsity or platitudes. If you are unwell, I expect you to rest. I assure you, I am a grown man that can handle having his dinner plans changed abruptly. What I cannot handle is you harming yourself to make me happy."

"I'm not sick, Martio. Please."

"You are shaking like a leaf in my arms, your skin is cool to the touch, and your eyes are slightly dilated. Adding the fact that you are as white as my uniform leads me to a different conclusion."

I had to think fast. I couldn't let him take me to medical. What if Uncle found out? He'd know I was trying to kick the drug. Then what would he do? More than strap my back with his belt, that was for sure!

"Martio, it's not that… It's…. It's what we saw," I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut against a sudden wave of tears. At the guilt from the pseudo-lie I'd told him. "I'm having nightmares. I can't sleep and when I do, it's filled with images of that woman and her broken face and…"

He set me on my feet, silencing me with a finger to my lips. "That's why you have been behaving so oddly of late?"

I nodded against his finger, fighting back more tears.

"You should have told me," he sighed, drawing me back into his arms. "Tessa, if this is to work between us in any way, you must be honest with me. When you are upset, it is my duty—no, my right—to set the matter straight."

I glanced up at him through my lashes. "You aren't disappointed in my weakness?"

"Weakness?" He shook his head. "I would be more concerned if you did not show such reactions to that horror. I will be honest with you as I want you to be honest with me. There are things that your brother and I do, that your uncle and your friend Cassio Tagge do, that are less than gentle. We don't like doing them, but sometimes harsh actions are the only ones that lead to peace."

"Wh…what happened to Miss Tharen?" I dared to ask.

He took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. "Do you really wish to know?"

NO! "Yes."

"She finally answered your brother's questions. Two days ago, she was executed as a rebel sympathizer and traitor to the Empire."

I felt the breath woosh out of me in a rush, so much so that Martio's arm at my waist was the only thing keeping me upright. "Was it quick?"

"Yes. Her execution was very fast and painless as possible for her crimes."

I didn't like the way he said that. It implied that her death could have been horribly slow and agonizing, but as swift as the law would allow for that particular crime. Still, he was trying to be gentle and honest about a brutal and horrible topic. I saw where he was going and I appreciated the effort. And I felt a tension in him, in the arm around me. As if realizing he'd left a verbal door wide open between us. I could ask him anything now, and he either had to answer or go back on his word of honesty.

"I won't ask," I said, lifting a shaking hand to his cheek. "I can't promise that I will never ask you about your work. I can say that I won't ask right now. What you do will not change my opinion of you, Martio Batch. I just hope I haven't spoiled your opinion of me with my selfish brainless ways this past week."

The tension drained from him, and he turned his head to place a kiss in my palm. "My opinion of you grows every day, my Tessa." His arm stayed around my waist, guiding me back down the hall and away from the lift. "Let's pick a better topic for our evening, like the surprise I have in store for you."

I had no more reason to stall, and so with a sinking heart I stepped towards those doors to that dining room. At least, I tried to console myself, if I was married tonight, Con would have no further need to drug me. The deed would have been done, and knowing Uncle's drive to see things done properly and immediately, he would have the signed agreement spread to every possible database within minutes.

Those doors parted… and for the second time in as many minutes, the breath whooshed from my lungs. "Andryl!"

I was running before I knew it, being swept up into a fierce hug by the man in question. "Tessa," he laughed, swinging me around. "Surprise!"

"How? Why… that is to say, how and why are you here?"

He set me down, glancing over at the Admiral. "When Admiral Batch told me that you could use a friendly face for a visit, I couldn't pass up the opportunity. I almost didn't believe him when he told me you were on the Death Star. You, the most anti-political woman I'd ever known."

I didn't care what Martio thought. I stuck my tongue out at Andryl, at my childhood best friend. And grinned ear to ear when the great Senator Andryl Kuron, the galaxy's foremost negotiator of peace between so many trade disputes and the like, screwed up his refined features and return it.

And was rewarded by hearing Martio laugh. "I should leave you to your reunion then. So long as you promise to protect my Tessa and see to it that she rests, Senator Kuron."

Andryl bowed, and for the first time I noticed he was wearing his official senatorial medallion and robes. "Allow me to take the moment provided by my tongue-tied friend and deeply thank you for this chance at reunion. I owe you a great debt, and will begin to repay it by protecting her with my life."

"You may need to. Tessa is known for her usual request," Martio winked at me. "If you would permit me to join you for dessert, I would consider it payment enough."

Dessert… I noted the food spread out on the table, the aroma of my favorite dishes enough to make my knees go weak.

"Wait," I called out, swallowing several times. The desire to dive right into that pile of deliciousness, it was damn near a psychological craving. If either man left, I would do just that. Fall upon it like a rabid animal. "You have challenged me, my dear Martio."

He turned back, lifted an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Well you can't tell my best friend that I am still the same woman I was when he knew me, and then leave me no opportunity to prove myself."

He folded his arms across his chest, the look on his face stern. And yet that mischievous amusement colored his eyes. "What do you suggest, then?"

"Dinner out," I stammered quickly, grabbing Andyrl's arm and nearly running Martio over in my haste to get out of that room. Did I smell the drug at some subconscious level? Is that what was giving me the shakes and headache all over again? "At a restaurant of my choosing. Unless that is too wild for either of you brave men?"

Andryl looked at Martio and Martio looked back at him, both men scrambling to get out of my way and keep up at the same time. Both utterly at a loss as to what to do with me. Well, that made three of us, then, didn't it.

"Challenge accepted," Andryl replied at length, chuckling as he looped his arm thorugh mine, tugging me to a stop so that Martio could take my other. "The lady wants an adventure, so an adventure it shall be."

I nearly wilted with relief when the turbolift closed us in together. "You never told me what brought you here," I said, trying to regain my composure. "Aside from visiting me, that is."

"Oh, I thought you would have heard. The Emperor has selected me to mediate the dispute with Alderaan."