Chapter 6: Homecoming
Mordivai slept little that night. It was bad enough that he was lying on a cold metal floor on a captured vessel, but he was also preoccupied with the image of Gatten's death. It replayed in his head over and over in a torturous stream, and each time Mordivai felt the pain anew. He knew that Jedi lived dangerous lives and that this was war time. But Gatten was a scholar, a gentle soul, and Mordivai had expected him to always be there. He tried to recall the last words they had spoken together, but all he knew was that it had been something insignificant and unmemorable.
Praven also occupied his thoughts. His master was still alive, Mordivai knew, or else he would have felt his passing. He did not envy the future that Praven faced now that he was back in the hands of the Empire. Praven was strong and stubborn. Mordivai thought that he would die rather than let the Empire break him or be turned again. Praven might be as good as dead already. Mordivai's throat felt thick and he buried his head in his arms. He had to keep going. He had to find a way back to Tython.
They docked at a space station and the next few hours were spent sorting the passengers into groups. At first Mordivai didn't understand what was going on, but as he shuffled with the crowd towards the far side of the room, he saw with horror that passengers were being fitted with slave collars and then herded into two large enclosures.
Two of the Sith lords were moving down the line of passengers, inspecting people and occasionally yanking someone from the crowd. It didn't take long for Mordivai to notice that only red-headed passengers were being accosted. He looked around, but there was no place to go or hide. The blonde Sith he had seen standing next to Darth Harrow on the bridge was getting closer. Mordivai tried to calm his breathing.
I am just another dark-haired passenger. I am no one. Mordivai concentrated on projecting his thoughts, imagining a cloud of darkness enshrouding him. Nothing to see here. Nothing of note.
The Sith was practically alongside him, strolling with her hands behind her back, her eyes boring into each person as she passed, her face fixed with a frown. Mordivai stared at his feet and threw every ounce of power he had at keeping himself concealed from her notice.
The Sith passed him by.
Mordivai hoped he would not have to do this anymore times today. He didn't know how long he could pull off the deception, and if Darth Harrow should come by...Mordivai doubted that that was a Sith who would fall for being so easily persuaded.
The last time Mordivai had been in Imperial territory felt like another lifetime entirely. Mordivai had been treated like a future lord, had been given respect. He had been free to do as he pleased and had not had to explain himself to anyone. Being treated like chattel now would have incurred such fury in his mother! No one in their right mind would choose to cross the Emperor's Wrath.
Mordivai was nearing the end of the line. A table had been set up and two bureaucrats sat behind it, looking bored. Mordivai made a quick decision.
"There's been a mistake," he said as he approached the table. The man didn't even bother to look up at him. He continued to type something into a datapad, as if Mordivai had never spoken. Mordivai continued on, raising his voice.
"My name is Mordivai Quinn. My father is Admiral Malavai Quinn, and my mother is the Emperor's Wrath."
The man looked up. "Uh-huh. And I'm the Emperor's nephew."
He ran a scanner over Mordivai's body and then turned to his colleague. "Mordivai Riel, citizen of Coruscant."
"No! That's not my real name! My name is Quinn! I was in a crash, I was brought to Tython. I am a citizen of the Empire!"
"Listen kid, don't bother. Do you have an occupation?"
Mordivai closed his mouth. Throughout his childhood, people had responded to the mention of his parent's names with fear, respect, and caution. He was stunned. His words meant nothing. His parent's names had no power if no one believed him.
"I am a…a student. In history." It was horribly vague and Mordivai waited for the man to call him out on such a weak answer.
"Group B it is then. Step to your left." He thumbed behind him, where there was a large pen filled with frightened people, many of them elderly, women or children.
Mordivai walked numbly away from the table. He glanced towards the holding pen for people assigned to Group A, all young and in good physical shape, many of them muscular and much larger than Mordivai. Should he feel lucky that he wasn't put in the manual labor group?
He was yanked by the arm and felt his head locked in a vice-like grip. Someone forced his chin against his chest and then the cool metal of the slave collar was sliding around the back of his neck. His hands flew reflexively to the band, his fingers curling underneath the lightweight metal, feeling the need to take one last gasp of air before the band hummed tight around the sides of his throat. He was not really suffocating, but the collar was snug. A shove propelled him into the pen.
Sometime later, the slavers were admitted and they began picking through the assembled group and pointing out individuals. Mordivai sat on a crate in the back of the pen, trying not to be noticed. Eventually, however, a Houk caught his eye and pointed a thick finger in his direction.
"Him," he bellowed, "and her, and her."
Mordivai was ushered out of the pen along with two women. The Houk slaver gave them all a once over and then nodded. Mordivai watched as credits were exchanged and then the three of them were led a short ways away where four more slaves, taken from Group A presumably, were already waiting.
The Houk had a slave stall set up on the space station in the middle of the merchant's wing. Mordivai was waved into a small, individually sized pen, not really designed to contain him, since he could have easily climbed over the low walls, but designed to separate the slaves from each other. Inside was a stool and what Mordivai took to be a refresher pot. No privacy here apparently. He was given a ration bar and a small bottle of water and then left alone. Mordivai tried climbing out of the pen once, but was struck by an electric shock from the collar as soon as his body crossed over the wall. He stifled a cry and stumbled back inside.
After an hour or so, a male Twi'lek came along, with a datapad in his hand.
"Mordivai Riel?"
"Yes."
"Student of history, hmm." The Twi'lek had a strong accent that made it hard for Mordivai to even understand him. "Skills? Languages? Better you tell all. You get a better job that way."
The Twi'lek jotted everything Mordivai told him down on the datapad, and prompted him with a few other suggestions. Could he cook? Garden? Did he know anything about droid mechanics? Scrap salvage? Archeology or armstech? Could he sing, play an instrument or dance?
Mordivai heard himself saying "no" to so many questions that he began to wonder if he had any useful skills at all besides esoteric Force theory, history and Jedi combat. He couldn't really offer those as skills, however, and he wondered if this Twi'lek thought he was useless.
Finally the Twi'lek hung the datapad on the end of the gate and left. Nothing of note happened for the rest of that day and that night Mordivai was left to sleep in his pen. There was no real day or night on the space station, although traffic quieted considerably during the non-business hours. The slaver's operation however, never shut down. The Twi'lek took over from the Houk during the quietest hours, and a few customers stopped by, although none of them took an interest in Mordivai.
Two days passed. Mordivai was fed a diet of ration bars, coarsely chopped salad, and dried jerky. A few times buyers would walk by and glance at his datapad, but he was rarely given a second look. He began to wonder why the Houk had picked him out at all. Only sleeping helped the time pass faster, and once the strangeness of being in this pen lost its novelty, Mordivai found himself becoming bored and depressed. He spent more and more time sleeping, his mood deteriorating by the day.
00o00
Mordivai was awoken by voices from outside his pen. He cracked open an eye. The Houk slaver was chatting animatedly at a Chiss male. Well, Mordivai assumed it was a Chiss, even though he'd never actually seen one himself. The man had deep blue skin and even his hair was blue, although that was of a lighter shade. His eyes were solid red, which Mordivai found a bit disconcerting. His mother's eyes were a beautiful shade of red, but these eyes had no pupils, or if they did, they were equally red as well. It reminded Mordivai of a lifeless droid.
The Chiss nodded absently to the slaver, and stopped in front of the gate to Mordivai's pen, not even bothering to glance inside. He pulled out the datapad hanging from the cord attached to the gate and examined it.
"Not looking for a manual laborer then?" the slaver was asking. "This one here has many academic skills. He'd be suitable for mercantile work, science or research, or as a household slave."
"He's been recently acquired, I see," the Chiss said. "He'll need to be broken in. I expect to be compensated with a discount." The Chiss looked up, but Mordivai couldn't quite tell if he was looking directly at him or not.
"Of course! All new slaves are discounted five percent."
The Chiss made a noncommittal noise and wandered away. Mordivai closed his eyes and tried to drift off to sleep again. A short time later, however, the Chiss was back.
"Let me get a better look at this one."
The slaver unlocked the gate and beckoned to Mordivai. "Out you go, let's go!"
Mordivai stepped out of the pen. The Chiss looked him up and down, a scowl settling on his face.
"Age nineteen, you say? He's scrawny to have reached maturity."
"Confirmed with a bioscan. But his skills do not require brawn."
The Chiss grabbed Mordivai by the hair and pulled it roughly back away from his face. "There's some damage here."
"An old wound, from before I got him."
"As long as it's not a sign of a discipline issue."
"Oh no! He's been docile the entire time we've had him."
"What's your scar from, slave?" The Chiss fixed his sharp red eyes on Mordivai, his face stern.
"It was an accident. Engine explosion."
"Is your eyesight keen?"
"It's unaffected, sir," Mordivai answered.
"All right, I'll take this one."
"Excellent! All our merchandise comes with a one week health guarantee of course. I'll get the contract prepared for your signature."
Mordivai was casually nudged back into the pen, and the slaver left, still talking, with the Chiss walking beside him. A few minutes later, the Chiss returned and Mordivai was fitted with a new slave collar; apparently the Chiss had come prepared with one of his own. The Chiss checked the fit of the collar, then stepped back. Mordivai saw he was holding the button to the shock control in his right hand. Before he had a chance to think about what that meant, a sharp, vibrating pain rattled through his teeth and blurred his vision. He doubled over in surprise. His grandmother had never used shock collars on her slaves.
"Obey and you won't have to endure any more of that," the Chiss said. "Stay close behind me."
Mordivai was loaded into the back of a speeder, feeling more like cargo than a person, and taken to the nearest ship hangar. He had no idea where in the galaxy he was going, or how long the journey would be. As Mordivai walked through the hangar, taking care to stay within close range of the Chiss at all times, he dared to venture a question as to the name of their destination.
The Chiss whirled on him, and Mordivai was met with another excruciating shock from the collar. Mordivai decided that he wasn't sure what was worse; the shock itself or the fear of getting another. Maybe that was the whole point.
"I didn't ask you a question," the Chiss said. He turned and walked up the gangplank of a small passenger ship, and after taking a second to catch his breath, Mordivai followed.
00o00
Mordivai knelt in the Dromund Kaas mud before his new master, his hands bound and his eyes fixed on the pair of black shiny boots in front of him. His head was smarting from the blow the Chiss had just given him for forgetting to keep his eyes downcast. In that brief moment, he had gotten his first glimpse of Lord Shastine, the human Sith who now owned him. She wasn't forbidding or stern like he was expecting. In fact, she was quite the opposite. Her face had been lit with a smile like that of an impatient child on their birthday, dimpled cheeks and all.
"I hope you are pleased with my selection, my lord. He matches your requirements." There was a hint of nervousness in the Chiss's voice.
"Oh, splendid, Skiro!" She actually clapped her hands in joy. "You may stand, slave."
Mordivai carefully got to his feet, working to maintain his balance. Lord Shastine was tiny in stature, he discovered. With his head bowed, he inadvertently caught a glimpse of her impish eyes, bright with excitement as she peered up at him, and the girish brown curls that bounced from her head like springs. He dropped his gaze away and focused on his toes.
"Oh, he's adorably shy, isn't he? What is your name, slave?"
"Mordivai, my lord."
"Hmm, curious name. I like it."
Mordivai felt a light touch against his chin as Lord Shastine tilted his head up. Reluctantly, he met her eyes.
"Skiro tells me that you can read and translate Old Galactic and Mid-Galactic standard."
"Yes, my lord."
"Very good." Her grip on his chin tightened and she turned his head from side to side, inspecting him. Then her eyes traveled downward in a way that made Mordivai oddly uncomfortable.
"Break him in for me, will you Skiro?"
"With pleasure, my lord," the Chiss answered. "I'll have him returned to you after he's branded."
"Oh no," Lord Shastine said. "Where he's going he won't be seen anyway. Do what you need to do but don't damage him overmuch, hmmm?" She released Mordivai's chin and turned away.
Skiro scowled at him, then leaned over and spoke quietly in Mordivai's ear, his normally bored tone transforming into one that nearly dripped with malice.
"Your hell is only just beginning, slave."
A/N: Hi everyone! I've edited last chapter's note a bit and moved it to this chapter, because I think belongs better at the end of this chapter instead.
Now that Mordivai has entered the Empire, the title to this story will start to make more sense. ;-) I debated whether to tell readers ahead of time what SWTOR class the protagonist in this story belongs to, since I also didn't want to give away too much. So I'm curious to know what you guys think. Would you rather know upfront what class a story is going to be about or do you mind the ambiguity? I'm still considering putting an author's note after the very first chapter giving people a little more background on the story. I did add some tags to the story's metadata that give a better idea of where this story will eventually be headed.
I also will mostly likely bump the rating to an M soon. I follow the rules of this site as best as I am able to interpret them. That means that there will be come adult content coming up, but nothing explicit. Mordivai also has some dark things in his future, including slavery. I didn't want to sugar coat what slavery among the Sith would have been like, but just as an fyi, I'm not going to spring any bloody or violent depictions of torture on you.