Orphic Verboten
Amber Penglass
Chapter II
Snackfiend101: First off, thanks for such a lovely long review! Second, the title is actually Latin, for 'Forbidden Fascination.' I think it fits our darling stars perfectly, ne? Edit: Thanks for the clean-up review! Half of them I missed in my own re-read! What would I do without you?
xThe Vixen: Awwwww, I love you Aleks! Nice job with 'Dandelion' btw…you know how much I love your Kitty/Duo snippits….
Luren: Don't worry, there will be plenty of 'impromptu' steamy stuff… A lot of people are afraid to put it in because they're afraid it'll end up 'slutty' but hey, I like taking risks… Glad you liked your present! Just wait til you find out who Luren-the-character is…you'll love it…
Kathleen: This fic will definitely get finished, one way or the other, even if it means posting my messy summary that I'm writing by, you guys will see this finished.
And of course to, Mellyna, Adrianna, Glass Mermaid, Jedi-Falen, Pheonixascending, Jewel34
She was drugged nearly to unconsciousness, pinpricks of brief pain alerting her to the method of delivery; more darts. The world around her was blurry. Her senses –sight, sound, smell, touch, hearing- were warped and distorted beyond recognition. For the first time since it had returned, Aelyn couldn't ignore that the Force had been restored to her, and that it was useful to her now. Only through the Force was she able to tell that she was alone wherever she was, and that 'wherever' was not the Ebon Hawk. And when her solitary status altered, only the Force alerted her to the presence of another.
She couldn't tell who was in the room with her, couldn't even tell the species or gender, but someone was definitely there, outlined against her sixth sense like a blurry, muddy silhouette. She concentrated on clearing the poisons from her system, evening her breathing and focusing on clarifying the world around her. She could only hope whoever was there didn't leave before she was coherent enough to ask what the hell was going on…
Then it was gone- all of it, suddenly and completely. Cheap drugs, Aelyn realized, to have broken down so quickly and so easily. She blinked, somewhat surprised at the swiftness with which clarity had been gained. She fought to remain outwardly inept and drowsy. No reason to alert her (new) captors to her newly aware status.
"…settled, then." A Bothan, Aelyn identified the heavily accented Basic. He sounded familiar…
"Pleasure doing business with you," another replied, then barked something in a language Aelyn thought sounded familiar, but not enough for her to decipher its meaning. The meaning translated itself, however, when a moment later several sets of heavy footfalls announced the entrance of what Aelyn could only assume were some sort of guards…
Scaly-feeling hands removed the manacles Aelyn had only faintly registered, then clamped down around her upper arms. Before they could fully assert their grip, she moved. Surprise granted her the advantage she needed to yank her arms out of their fleshy confines. Her eyes snapped open, taking in everything in one brief sweep of a glance. Then she was moving, swinging low around her right-most would-be captor –a Gamorrean?- and twisting to avoid the diving grab of the second hog-like alien.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw it; she ducked low, whirling as she thrust her arm up after it, snatching the dart out of the air as it whizzed past above her left shoulder. With seamless grace she spun on her heel, still crouching low, and flung it back in the direction it had come from. Not taking the time to see if it had hit its target, Aelyn spied the door and made a running leap up and over the cowering Bothan blocking her way-
Only to have a lancing, senses-shattering electric pain clamp down around her throat like a barbed vice. She gave an involuntary cry and fell to the floor, writhering. Another cry caught in her throat, her face contorted in a silent scream…
Then it was gone, and she lay, gasping, on the gold metal floor of wherever she was, her arms wrapped around her middle, unwashed hair splayed out behind her, shivering not with cold but with the after-convulsions of whatever it was that had just assaulted her. A trembling hand went to her throat… Collar. A damn restraining collar. They'd put a slave's device on her!
Cold dread settled suddenly into the pit of Aelyn's belly as she struggled to get to her knees, and a pair of shiny, booted feet planted themselves in front of her. Breathing harshly, Aelyn followed the boots up to the hems of a short, embroidered robe, then up to a wide, heavily decorated belt, then further up to see that robe parted to reveal a fine, nearly sheer shirt beneath it… Then at last to a face, a face far too handsome to be purely human, and the falsely benevolent smirk fixed there.
"Yes, yes indeed," the man said, partially over his shoulder to the Bothan –the Dockmaster, Aelyn remembered abruptly. "Yes, pleasure doing business with you, indeed." He snapped his fingers to the Gamorreans, who at once toddled over to her, reaching down past their considerable girths to grip her arms and haul her to her feet. Tortured muscles screamed in protest, but Aelyn grit her teeth, her gaze meeting and never leaving that of the confidently smirking man before her. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened…
Aelyn had been sold as a slave.
A week. It had taken Atton a week to contact Goto, and what had the aloof old geezer told him?
'Get the Jedi back at all costs, Atton Rand. She must not be allowed to slip away. I forbid it.'
"'I forbid it,'" Atton echoed under his breath, scowling. At least he'd agreed to send Atton extra monetary funds. What he'd kept on the ship had been confiscated by the Dockmaster, though if all went well tonight, he'd probably get it back… Goto had told him he'd contact the Dockmaster himself, and that Atton should visit the Bothan the next night. Not quite sure what to expect, Atton kept the shadows once night fell as he slunk his way towards the docks.
He still wasn't entirely sure what had happened a week ago, when he and that Jedi had tried to get back to the Ebon Hawk. Darts and nets had come flying as soon as the woman's witty remark about distraction had come out of her mouth. She'd caught most of them, the only reason Atton was able to dodge the kicks and punches that had come his way. His survivor's luck had kicked in, allowing him to somehow dodge the rest of the attacks long enough to have back-pedaled off the ship and disappear into the crowds outside- again. Did he feel bad about leaving Aelyn Drae, Jedi, behind?
'No, damnit,' he snarled at himself. 'Jedi, Jedi, Jedi… Oh, and in case you forgot, Rand, Jedi!'
No, of course he didn't feel bad. Not at all.
He fiddled with the hilt of his vibrodagger hooked onto his belt, beneath the cover of the voluminous black cloak he'd managed to pilfer while a smug stallkeeper had been occupied with a pretty flower girl. His lips quirked slightly as he found the door he was looking for and slid from the shadows like darkness come alive. That quirk became a wolfish grin- it had been far too long, he realized, since he'd done this sort of thing. He'd missed it.
He withdrew his small sonic blaster from his left thigh holster, and fired once, twice, into the control panel by the door, aiming carefully. With a screech of tortured gears and circuits, the door whizzed open. Inside, Atton heard something crash, and a curl of satisfaction formed in his stomach. Oh yes, he'd missed this…
He entered the abode with a flurry of dark fabric, glowering and stepping heavily to cut off the Bothan that darted from behind a couch to another door across the room. His hand found the creature's middle, slamming him back against the curving stone wall. Something meant to be decorative trembled on the wall with the resounding vibrations of the impact. One hand still pressed harshly against the Dockmaster's solar plexis, Atton's other hand shot out to grip the alien's furry neck. Another slam, this time knocking the Bothan's head against the wall, rattled the decorative thing free of its moorings and sent it crashing to the floor, shattering spectacularly.
"Aelyn Drae." Atton ground out the words, deepening his voice in an all too familiar way. "Where is she?"
"Wh-who?" Dockmaster was nervous, and rightly so, but thankfully not so much that he'd forgotten to speak Basic. Atton's Bothuwui was awful.
"Burgundy hair, silver hair-wrap behind her right ear. Short, curvy, green eyes… Riddled full of concussion darts last time I saw her. Ringing any bells?"
His captive swallowed against his hand, and Atton's sinister grin turned a shade darker. He tightened his grip when the Dockmaster didn't reply right away, eliciting a sound that was something between a bark and a squeal.
"No need to get violent…more violent…" the Bothan growled, trying to regain a shred of dignity. "I cooperate, I told Goto I would! All right? I sold her! Sold her, human!"
Atton dragged the alien away from the wall, pulling it's dog-like face up to his as he snarled a low, "What?"
"Vabbo put out new sale offer just before you two land," the explanation began. Atton narrowed his eyes –not that they were visible beneath the deep hood he had pulled up- but said nothing, letting the Bothan continue. "I didn't even call her in, this I swear! Vabbo's man find out about her somehow, contacted me himself…"
"Oh yes, because it was such common knowledge that we were here," Atton's false tones of amusement were laced with ice, and he felt the Dockmaster go rigid with renewed fear.
"Me guesses he saw you two humans on your mad dash to get away from me, eh?"
"Possible," Atton conceded. Deciding that the physical part of intimidation had been satisfied, Atton threw the creature back against the wall, releasing him. The Dockmaster rubbed his throat, glowering at Atton but doing nothing more than that.
"Call this agent," Atton told him harshly. "Offer to buy her back. Double, if necessary. Triple, even, whatever it takes. Get her back."
The Bothan froze, "That would ruin me! Agent pay very highly for your woman. Besides, I already try to get her back; no cooperation."
"Too bad," the pilot snorted with false sympathy. "Try again."
"You must understand," the Bothan pressed. "Once slave is sold to Vabbo, slave never leaves alive."
Atton changed his mind; the physical intimidation part of this visit wasn't over after all. He took half a solid step forward, slamming the Dockmaster up against the wall a second time, leaning in close enough that the Bothan's rapid breaths wheezed across his face as he hissed, "You made three mistakes, Bothan. Mistake one; not cooperating with me in the first place with the fuel. Mistake two; selling someone who wasn't yours. Mistake three; not working with me now. You think you would have learned from the first time." He released pressure slightly, but whatever effort he'd put into gripping the Dockmaster's throat he now redirected to making his voice more meaningfully menacing than before.
"You can't buy her back, fine. Judging by the fine accommodations of this place you call an apartment, I believe you. So here's what you will do. You will recommend me as a new servant to Vabbo. Not a slave. Servant. Then I'll get her out myself- but you will provide whatever I need, whenever I need it. Transportation, money, equipment, weapons, people. How does that sound?" His tone changed abruptly from that of undeniable command to amiable inquiry. He stepped back suddenly, and the Bothan stumbled before realizing that Atton was no longer holding him to the wall. He regained his balance, again rubbing his sore throat. Human hands, at least with this human, were stronger than they looked… It made the Dockmaster wonder just how many people this human pilot had held by the neck to have hands that strong, that adept at holding throats just right…
"That is…agreeable," the Bothan forced out. What choice did he have? It could have been worse, he realized, with Goto backing this man, this man who was in and of himself a force to be reckoned with. His disguise had been good, he realized belatedly, remembering the harmless space scoundrel who had attempted to buy fuel from him a week ago. Oh yes, there wasn't much of that simple spacer before him now, not much at all…
"Wonderful," Atton declared, a falsely pleasant smile on his face. "When can I expect to begin my employment?"
"Eh…Vabbo stop taking…er, 'applications' for now…" He held up his hands in defense when Atton's stance changed abruptly. Quickly, the Bothan added, "But he kills many! He always take new servants monthly! Since your woman was special case, he start taking more applications in…eh…week, tops!"
"A week." Atton paused, glowering. The Dockmaster swallowed, but did his best to maintain some form of dignity. He drew himself to stand straighter, and didn't cringe against the wall like he wanted to…
"I will, of course, provide housing, food, provisions, until your time come…"
"Smart of you." Atton said simply, then said nothing, as if waiting…
"Er," the Bothan scrambled for thought. Where could he put the pilot tonight? His own ship was the obvious answer, but he somehow thought that wasn't what this human expected. And to not do what was expected, right now, could cause serious repercussions later…
"There is tavern, west end of town," the Dockmaster told him suddenly. "I use their best room, from time to time. The tavern keeper owes me… You go there, I send word ahead that his repayment to me is to give you that room. It is a fine room…"
"Sounds good," the human responded casually enough, as if they were discussing business plans… Which in a way, they were, the Dockmaster admitted grudgingly. "What's this place called?"
"Bordu's Recluse," the Bothan supplied, daring to take a step from the wall, standing more freely on his own two feet. Atton filed the name away.
"Get me a commlink," he told his new 'partner.' "I'll need to contact you periodically. And of course you'll want a way to let me know when my employment is all in line…"
"Of course, of course," the Dockmaster muttered, moving to a set of shabby drawers across the room, giving the human pilot a wide berth. From one of the drawers he pulled two wrist comms. He switched them the same frequency, and tossed one to Atton, who caught it easily and stowed it beneath his cloak.
"Pleasure doing business with you," Atton quipped, a flash of teeth peeking from beneath the hood before he turned and left abruptly. Alone in his apartment, the Bothan shivered- last time someone had said that to him, he'd gotten a call from the biggest crime lord in the galaxy the next morning…
"Back off," came the harsh words, accompanied by a harsher grip. The man looked down at his wrist, only to find it encased in an iron grip. He sneered, following the hand holding his arm up to a dirty, tired, but thoroughly commanding female visage.
"Or what?" The man jerked his hand away. When his challenger said nothing, only continued to glare levelly, his sneer heightened in derisive smugness as he turned again towards the trembling kitchen girl he'd been reaching for-
Then there was a hand at the base of his neck, hauling him back and tossing him against the far wall with a resounding smack that had the huddling girl gasping.
"Or that," the challenger declared, squaring her stance and planting her hands on her ample hips. Determination had replaced exhaustion, the man saw when he pushed away from the wall. His hand went to the back of his head and retreated, damp with blood. He glowered at the woman before him. He looked past her to the young girl trying to blend with the shadows, her blue eyes wide and rightfully fearful, but full of all the mustered defiance one could imagine.
"I'll find you alone eventually," he promised, and with a final glare at the burgundy haired woman that had interfered, he left the cellar.
"Thank you," the blonde girl said after a long, potent moment. She took a brave step forward, holding her chin high and blinking away the tears that had begun to gather in her eyes.
Aelyn Drae turned to look at the girl she'd saved from an encounter worse than death, and gave a tired smile. "Don't mention it," she said, reaching out to absently fluff a tendril of the girl's short-shorn blonde locks, cut so similar to Aelyn's. Her hand went automatically to where her silver twist of hair had once hung and winced. It had been her one concession to vanity over the years… She missed it.
One week- a whole week as a slave, and Aelyn had found it a most eye-opening experience. For the most part, things were going better than one might expect. She had not been raped (none had attempted after she had publicly defeated so easily her first would-be assailant), she was left alone for the most part, and she was fed. Barely, but she was fed.
That wasn't to say she didn't want out of Vogga's service as much as the next slave, but she supposed things could be worse…
She could be a dancer.
Thinking of her roommates, who were dancers, Aelyn suppressed a shudder.
"Better finish your chores, and get off to bed," Aelyn told the girl, who nodded, rubbing the remnants of her would-be tears from her eyes and face before snatching up the basket she'd dropped, and dashing up the stairs. Aelyn extended her senses, just a bit, to make sure the girl's almost-attacker wasn't anywhere close. Satisfied, Aelyn let herself slip down into a corner, folding her legs automatically and leaning her head back into the corner, taking a deep, cleansing breath.
It had taken her a while, but eventually she'd found this place. The shelves between her and the stairway that led down into this cellar would prevent anyone from immediately spotting her, while if someone did see her, finding a slave in the cellar wasn't uncommon enough to arouse suspicion.
Meanwhile, Aelyn could gain her strength…
There was nothing better to get one to get over one's reluctance to accept something than to put one in a situation where that something is inarguably important. Such was the situation that forced Aelyn to swallow her pride –and fear, she felt free to admit to herself- and find this secluded place in which she could further re-establish her connection to the Force.
She hadn't meditated in a long, long…
It had been hard, at first, every little sound making her jump, the tiniest of thoughts distracting her completely. And some not so tiny ones, as well… But stubbornness was one of Aelyn's strong suits, and thankfully at this moment it served her purposes rather than derailed her from them. She refused to give up, and it had begun to pay off. Her ability to use the Force, before, had been sketchy and flickering –able to distract the minds of those guards, for instance, or confuse Atton when he'd been hanging on her legs, then in the next moments be able to do or sense nothing at all. Confidence had begun to return to her, first with little things like the levitation of foodstuffs around the room. Then the mental mapping-out of the minds around and above her, until she could recognize each person simply by feeling them through the Force, until she could follow the movements of half a dozen persons at once.
From then, it was as if she were doing nothing more than a refresher course. A week, and she was well on her way to regaining what she'd had before believed to be irrevocably lost. She was gaining strength. Physical strength, however, that was another matter. But there was little she could do about it, so she funneled what little strength wasn't taken by her daily activities into reconnecting as solidly and as quickly as she could with the Force.
She calmed her mind, letting all unnecessary thoughts flow from her consciousness like water off a stone. She reached out, feeling above her, on the kitchen level, the various minds and emotions of the five women she'd been working with for the past week. She spread her senses a bit further, and a slight hint of a frown marred her face when her 'feelers' encountered something new…yet not. It took her a moment to identify them, and she resisted the urge to recoil. Her roommates, the twin twi'lek dancers Ayy and Sinya. Only once before had Aelyn let her Force senses reach out to them, the first time she had realized that they were –unbeknownst to themselves- Force Sensitives. What she had felt then…
Many a night Aelyn had cursed her ability to understand the silky Twi'lek language as she lay awake, listening to the sisters detail bloody and gruesome revenge upon various patrons they had danced for that day.
She shivered, and broke her trance. She took a moment to orient herself in the real world once more, estimating she'd spent only an hour or two in meditation. Time to get back to work… But then she wondered about Ayy and Sinya. Rarely did they venture down from the slave's quarters or the more luxurious guest or entertainment levels. What were they doing down here? Frowning, Aelyn braced herself for the ugliness that was the twins' minds, and let herself reach out…
A plot. It wasn't much, but Aelyn had definitely gotten a brief glimpse of a batch of emotions equaling some sort of malicious plan. It took only a moment for Aelyn to brush away the 'live and let live' policy that was the rule of thumb in Vogga's household, and push herself up and out of her corner to make quick work of the space between her and the stairs, and then the stairs themselves. Whatever the twins were up to, she'd bet her new connection to the Force that it wasn't good…
Aelyn came up out of the stairwell, pausing at the entrance to the massive kitchen. The twi'lek twins were, for the most part, ignored as they wandered the kitchen, whispering and grinning to each other in soft twi'lek murmurs. The ex-Jedi kept to the shadows as she watched them, as she saw them –discreetly- watching the blonde girl Aelyn had so recently rescued. She watched them watch and wait til she left her post, then she watched them slip casually to her station, their hands slipping into the baskets of sweet dried fruits the girl had been working into the dough… Expensive sweet dried fruits.
"Ayy, Sinya," Aelyn called, moving from the shadows, her voice casually –carefully- curious, and nothing more. "What are you doing down here?" The stairwell was nearly right next to the table, and both twi'leks jumped, together, and turned to face her. Any evidence of guilt was smoothly erased from their faces and postures, hands moving away from the baskets as the blonde girl came running back over. The girl was smart; Aelyn already saw, on her face, that the girl realized what had almost happened, knew that she would have been blamed if she had come up short of the sweets. She threw Aelyn yet another look of deep gratitude, while the twi'lek dancers glowered, subtly, at the green-eyed slave before them, their demeanors seething even without Aelyn's ability to sense the emotions they'd rather hide, not that they were really trying to hide their anger with her…
"The lovely one addresses us?" Ayy purred, slinking around the table as her sister leaned against that same table, blocking the anxious blonde serving girl from returning to work. Annoyance flashed over her face, and she looked to Aelyn for help. Sighing, Aelyn moved past her roommates, hooking one arm around each of them. Dancing with vipers, the old quote slipped through her thoughts as the two alien women moved with her, both of them leaning into her, slinking their wiley arms around her waists and shoulders. Aelyn suppressed a shudder, and even more forcefully resisted memories of various obscene offers they'd made to her, night after night…
She moved away from them soon as they were out of the kitchens.
"She plays hot and cold," Sinya murmured, an unfamiliar danger flashing in her cat-like eyes. Aelyn moved away, smoothly.
"No, actually, not really," she corrected amiably enough, to the casual ear. Ayy and Sinya exchanged amused glances before taking following steps, closer again.
"That she plays at all, it is encouraging," Ayy said sweetly, reaching out to tug a strand of Aelyn's shortened locks. "A pity, your mane is…"
"Help you, we could, this you know," Sinya offered, yet again. Since her hair had been cut, the two had offered her various potions and elixirs supposedly guaranteed to grow hair quick, thick, and healthy. Now, Aelyn would normally have loved to accept –she missed the long hair she had indulged in during her academy days- but since she'd long ago figured out that her roommates seemed to have a fetish for long dark hair, she'd declined. Again. And again…
She swatted Ayy's hand away, and took yet another step back.
"No thanks," she reiterated. "You two should be getting ready for tonight, shouldn't you? You'd better get back upstairs." Leaving it at that, Aelyn turned and headed back for the kitchens, leaving the twins in the hallway behind her.
Ayy and Sinya watched the unconsciously graceful human walk away, and the sisters simmered with combined frustration and indignant anger. All they had wanted was a little fruit, and who cared if a lowly kitchen slave got the blame? And who was this lekku-less woman to defy them, in the many ways she had?
"The beautiful one needs a lesson," Ayy murmured, leaning into her sister.
"And we shall give it to her," Sinya agreed, gently playing with a slender tip of one of Ayy's lekku. Together they turned, whispering to one another as they went.
By the time Aelyn was released from her duties, later than usual for the sake of the elaborate party Vobba was throwing that night, one of the many that month, her roommates were ready for her.
Aelyn smelled it before the door was fully open, sliding aside to reveal Ayy laying on her pallet, her normally silvery skin a deathly shade of pink. The scent of sickness. Traces of perspiration made her brow and throat slick, and she was breathing with more effort than what was normal. Aelyn frowned, moving to kneel beside Sinya, whom was dabbing her sister's brow with a cool, wet cloth, seemingly without regard to her elaborate dancer's costume getting wet.
"It is not so bad," Ayy wheezed. "Believe me, sister, I can dance…"
"Stay and rest, my Ayy," Sinya murmured. "A gift to death, you will be if you press yourself…"
"But the Dance of the Twin Suns…Vabbo requested it… He will be most displeased… You cannot dance that dance alone, sister…" Ayy coughed, and Aelyn's frown deepened as she witness the exchange. Something was off, but she couldn't quite pinpoint what…
"I will beseech one of the other favored dancers," Sinya soothed. "We have yet an hour til the party…I will teach her the steps. We will paint her face, and no one shall know it is not you, not with the veil…"
"There are no other dancers of my height and shape, Sinya," Ayy admonished. "This, you know…"
Aelyn reached out with her senses, skirting around the waves of illness surrounding Ayy. She winced, having confirmed that Ayy was indeed sick. She wasn't faking. Still…warning bells were going off, even as Aelyn gave a breathy sigh and said, "I am similar to your shape and height, Ayy." She glanced over, meeting Sinya's gaze. "If you will teach it to me, I will dance in her place."
For all the sisters made Aelyn uneasy, she knew all too well of the punishments Vabbo delivered to his entertainers that displeased him. Even if their deception was discovered, she had a feeling she would be able to withstand whatever Vabbo would mete out better than Sinya or Ayy, especially in the latter's state.
Sinya simpered at her, "The beautiful slave is most generous! Come, we have much to prepare, and so little time…" She rose, reaching down with infinite grace to grip Aelyn's hand and pull her to her feet. With a suppressed sigh, Aelyn followed Sinya out of the room, down the hall, up to the next level… She was led to a large room, lavished with sweeping draperies and soft, plush carpeting. Sinya began calling in a harsh voice, and at once slaves in sheer, gently draping robes emerged from hidden doorways. Within moments Aelyn was stripped, shoved into a fresher with two of the sheer-garbed slaves, and scrubbed from head to toe. In minutes she was cleaner than she could remember being since before that pilot had accosted her (she still didn't know his name…).
A robe nearly as sheer as the ones worn by the slaves was produced, and swallowing her modesty, Aelyn slipped it on and let unfamiliar hands tie a golden cord around her waist. Back out of the refresher room and into the larger one, Aelyn found Sinya waiting. Draped over the chair next to her was an elaborate costume of exotic feathers, silver and unbelievably sheer black fabric.
"Later," Sinya told her, noticing how Aelyn had spied the garments with suspicion. She came to Aelyn, a sultry smile on that lovely alien face. She took Aelyn's hands in hers, and pulled her to the center of the room. "Come," she said sweetly. "We don't have much time… Now, stand beside me, lovely one… Yes, follow my movements…"
'Just like a new fighting technique,' Aelyn told herself. 'Think of it as a lesson, back at the academy…racing to learn it better and quicker than Talvin…'
Aelyn began to dance.
Atton resisted the urge to twitch with sudden, strong annoyance. At his waist, the commlink the Dockmaster had given him beeped urgently. The lanky, purple-skinned Zeltron in his lap giggled.
"Go ahead and answer," she purred. "I'll wait…"
"Damn straight you will," he growled, taking a nip at her ear and eliciting a delighted, throaty laugh from her before snatching the commlink and snarling into it a, "What?"
"I have what you want," came the Dockmaster's unforgettably forced-steady tones. "But it will not be available for long- it is a single night only, a last minute requirement…"
"I'll be right there," Atton snapped, annoyed and yet pleased at the same time. It had taken him a few hours to get the edible Zeltron into his grasp, and yet he was eager to get off this rock, and out of this excuse for a tavern…
But there would be plenty other Zeltrons in his future. Right now, he had a slipper Jedi to recapture, and a bounty to claim. Ducking in to plant a lusty, moist kiss against the purple skin of her slender throat, Atton stood up. His lap-mate slid from his grasp, a look of annoyance of her own on her face.
"Leaving me already?" She complained.
"Sorry, duty calls," he said, tossing some creds onto the table to pay for their drinks, and with a quirky two-fingered wave he turned and left, grabbing his cloak off the back of his chair as he went. He swung the black thing over and around his shoulders, settling the hood up on his head as he exited the dim tavern.
"Do not be frightened," Sinya murmured beside Aelyn, whom had begun to absentmindedly twist a corner of the waist-length, silky-sheer veil around her fingers. She released the fabric, adjusting the incredibly low silver-metal waistband of the sheer, full black pants she wore. Only two curved silver disks with intricate designs in black diamonds covered her breasts, the disks held there with some sort of flesh-agreeable glue…
Overall, the mess was entirely uncomfortable and whoever had designed it had obviously possessed no concept of modesty. But, she had to admit, she could move…
"I'm not nervous," She murmured back. 'A little embarrassed, maybe… I haven't shown this much skin since I came out of a womb…'
They stood in a cramped square room, below the floor of the entertainment room above them. In the center of the floor at their feet, a thick loop boasted the clasps of two silver chains, one chain going to Aelyn's ankle and the other to Sinya's ankle. Aelyn had already tested them; if something went wrong, there was no escaping.
The sound of music above them met their ears at the same time the cranking of gears below them began to rise in intensity. Aelyn kept herself from scratching at the silver-grey paint on her skin, or the glue that held two fake lukku to her scalp… She took a deep breath, centering herself and focusing on the steps so new and fresh in her mind. Grace, she told herself. Just make it look like you know what you're doing, and you'll be fine…
They began to rise.
The ceiling above them parted, and a moment later they had emerged into a circle of spectators, headmost among them a massive green-brown slug of a Hutt enshrouded in silks and exotic fabrics, reclining on a flattened bed of more cushions and fabric. Guards surrounded him, Aelyn observed briefly, and then the music picked up in earnest. Beside her, Sinya began to move to the first part of the dance…
A beat later, and Aelyn slid down into a near split, holding her arms aloft as Sinya moved around her, over her, her hands slipping down Aelyn's sides, then back up again to grip her hands and pull her back to her feet. Their hands and arms intertwined, they moved around each other, balancing and countering one another's movements. The black veils swirled around them, legs all but invisible through the sheer black pants moving with boneless grace as they danced.
They came apart, Sinya taking to slinking her body against an invisible, nonexistent pole while Aelyn came into her own. All eyes turned to her. She closed her own eyes, and focused, sharpening her memory of the brief lesson she'd had but barely an hour ago, and slowly she began to move.
It was a form of meditation all its own, Aelyn thought languidly to herself. She lost touch with the outside world, focusing on keeping her movements graceful and alluring. Just focus inward…let everything else slip away…the embarrassment, the almost-shame of being so nearly naked, the wry amusement –a Jedi, dancing? Even an ex-Jedi… A twisted sort of serenity slipped into her movements, bringing her dancing to a whole new level.
Behind her, Sinya watched, disbelievingly, as her plan crumbled from her grasp. They weren't supposed to look at her like that…with awe and genuine pleasure. The beautiful slave hadn't danced like this when she'd been teaching her earlier… Anger made Sinya's movements harsher than they should have been, and she strove to bring out the natural grace of her species, and when Aelyn's part was over and the focus reverted back to Sinya, she strove to regain what had been stolen from her by the imposter's unexpected talent.
But she failed- somehow, Sinya couldn't bring back all of her grace and confidence. So unnerved was she, that a mere inexperienced human could have such natural poise and alluring beauty of movement over Sinya, a natural and very, very experienced dancer… It showed, and Vabbo noticed.
/Stop/ the Hutt blubbered noisily. At once, the music vanished from the air, and Sinya and Aelyn both halted their movements. Sinya moved to be directly before Vabbo, and fell to her knees, touching her forehead to the ground. Severely disgruntled at the prospect of bowing to the giant slung before her, Aelyn moved to follow suit.
/Stay where you are/ Vabbo pointed at her, unexpectedly. He turned his huge, oily eyes to Sinya, then back to Aelyn. /You/ He cried. /Take off your veil./
Aelyn froze, her hands glued to her side. Vabbo gave a wet snort, and a guard to Aelyn's right moved towards her. She took a step back, thinking fast and coming up with nothing. Before the guard reached her, she sighed deeply and reached up, peeling the headdress –veil, lekku, tiara and all- from her scalp, shaking out her real hair as she did so. Her short red-purple locks brushed her earlobes, and she tossed the headdress aside to cross her arms, as much for modesty's sake as it was for a show of defiance.
Vabbo gave a wave with his short left arm, and the guard continued to move towards Aelyn. Before she could move away, the big alien –she wasn't quite sure what he was- planted a big hand at the base of the back of her neck, forcing her forward until her knees knocked against the edge of the throne-platform. Vabbo peered at her, green liquid discharging from his glazed eyes as he gave a rumble of contemplation. She suppressed a wince at the horrid stench that reached her nostrils.
/Where is Ayy/ Vabbo demanded loudly, gurgling with…indignation? Anger? Amusement? Aelyn never could tell with Hutts…
/Please, my master/ Sinya responded in her native tongue. /This lowly one…/ she raised her head to nod to Aelyn. /She wished a higher place in your lordship's court…Made my sister ill, she did, forced me to let her take my darling Ayy's place…/
Aelyn's head snapped to the side, staring, wide-eyed at Sinya laying prostrate before the slug of a Hutt. Seething, she clenched her fists and fought to reign in her anger. To the surprise of many present, including the two dancers, Vobba began to laugh…and laugh…
/Then she did me a grand favor/ The Hutt lord spewed loudly. He waved to his guards again. /Take her from my sight. Have herself and her sister reassigned. The Twin Suns are no longer my favored dancers…/ Sinya's cry of outrage and shock was drowned out by the approving applause and cheers of the party guests all around. Aelyn, cold dread settling into her belly, looked away from Sinya to the bulbous creature before her. He gave her what passed for a smile, she supposed, as he motioned her closer. Doing her best to hid her revulsion, Aelyn leaned a bit closer, leaning over the edge of the platform-throne so Vobba could plant his spindly, repulsive little hands on her bare shoulders.
/My new favored one/ The lord cried, spittle flying from the tip of his fat tongue. Aelyn dodged a globule of saliva, suppressing a wince. He clapped her on the shoulders, then shoved her away. She regained her balance with as much dignity as possible, going into a crouch in order to do so. /Dance for me/ Vobba's shouted jovially, throwing his miniscule arms up. /Dance, Favorite/
And thus Aelyn's second week of slavery began- such was what she thought, anyways...
For the thousandth time, Atton scratched at the itchy cloth-of-gold sash around his waist, resisting the desire to wiggle uncomfortably in the far, far too tight silver pants, reminding himself all the while to have the Dockmaster shot.
Several times.
Oh yes, he'd gotten Atton into Vobba's employ, had definitely gotten him into the compound.
As a trunced-up, bare-chested, tray-bearing party servant! His hair had been slicked back to helmet hardness, his bare chest, stomach, back and arms oiled of all things, and then that damn itchy golden sash…and the way, way too snug pants… Atton stood with similarly clad men (half of them similarly placed by the Dockmaster for Atton's violence-causing convenience), waiting for the signal to disperse both themselves and the treats on the trays they all bore. Apparently Vabbo liked to treat his female guests to some eye candy, too… Atton scowled harshly, and immediately a swift hand delivered a smarting smack to his backside. Stifling a cry and trying not to drop his tray, Atton glowered at the old matron who was in charge of the 'boys.'
"Smile big!" she admonished. "Big, big!"
"I'm smiling, I'm smiling…" Atton ground out, plastering a hugely fake smile to his twitching face. Faintly, he heard a commotion out in the party chamber. The music stopped abruptly, and Vabbo could be heard shouting something about suns and favorites… Then there was an order given, and the music began again. With another smack to his behind, the matron shooed them all out past the gilded curtains that had formerly hidden the party from them.
The next ten minutes of Atton's life was full of exercises in patience and self control. About a dozen or so pinches, goosings, gropings, suggestions, lewd 'compliments' and out and out demands later, Atton's tray was empty, and he at last had an excuse to explore, under the guise of returning to the servant's entrance… He took the long way, angling around the side of Vabbo's platform-esque throne. He got a brief glimpse of a black scarf whirling above people's heads before the crowd in front of him surged, and blocked his view once more.
All at once, Atton drew himself up sharply, sucking in a breath while gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, nearly snapping the edge of the tray in his right hand, down by his side. From behind him, a human woman slinked one arm up over his shoulder and down his chest, sharp nails leaving five slender red lines in their wake. Her other hand was occupied with gripping as big a section of his ass as she possibly could.
"You have a lovely set of buttock muscles, do you know that?" The woman purred, laying her head on his shoulder from behind. Gritting his teeth and cursing whoever had brought his name up to Goto, he remained silent. The woman's nails dug in a bit harder. "This is where you say 'thank you, my lady.'"
"I would, but I don't see a lady," Atton bit out before he could stop himself. Once he realized what he'd said, and noticed the way the woman behind him stiffened noticeably, he closed his eyes and triple cursed Goto…
"I think," the woman hissed slowly. "That your keeper here has been bereft in her duty to keep you in line, slave boy. What say we relieve her of the trouble I know you must be, hm? I know Vobba owes me…shall you be his currency with which to repay me? I think you shall…" Digging her claws into Atton's arms, she pulled him through the crowd, shoving her way through and hauling him to the front of everyone, until directly to their left was Vobba, and directly in front of Vobba –and therefore right in front of him- was his new dancer.
New dancer.
Atton blinked, taking several long moments, while the lady clutching his arm tried to get Vobba's attention, trying to process what his eyes were telling him.
Jedi…exile…
…dancing…
Dancing!
Atton wasn't quite sure what surprised him more; the fact that he was bearing witness to an ex-Jedi dancing for a crowd, chained to the floor, in one of the skimpiest outfits he'd ever see (and he'd seen plenty), or the fact that he was…affected by the sight.
Atton Rand had never, ever been affected by a Jedi, ex or no.
Getting ahold of his libido, Atton grabbed the arm of the woman whom had been formerly holding on to him, hauling her back out of the crowd and shoving her into a secluded corner, draperies and urns on either side blocking any casual glance their way.
"You want to play?" Atton said harshly, quietly. "Fine, I'll play. I'll play as long and as hard as you want, on one condition."
"What makes you think I will agree to any of your conditions?" The woman purred.
"For one, I'm not a slave, and second…" From his waistband he pulled the tiny skiv he'd hidden there, pressing it up against the side of her throat. "Well, I think the second reason is evident on its own right about now."
"You wouldn't dare!" The woman seethed, pouting not-so-prettily.
Atton paused, then flashed a grin, "You're right," he said. "Far too messy… So, would you like to be choked to death, or your neck broken? I'm rather good with necks, you see…"
The woman had paled considerably, even beneath the powdered gold that brushed her skin.
"You…you wish a night…with the new dancer?" The woman's bravado had faded far, far too quickly for Atton's personal preference, but he was in no mood to be picky.
"If that's all right with your ladyship," he grinned his patented devilish grin, the one that made girls and women alike forget that his nose was just a bit too big, his eyebrows just a bit too bushy for truly flawless looks.
"Remain here," the woman tried to regain some of her former imperial presence, straightening even within Atton's grasp. "I will interceded on your behalf for Vobba… I…I will tell him I wish her as a gift, for my brother…yes, yes, that will do… As I've said, Vobba owes me…"
"Oh, I don't think so," Atton said simply, pulling her away from the wall and keeping her ahead of him. "I think I'll stay with you, your ladyship, while you spin your tale." He pushed her out in front of him, seemingly following her like a besotted serving boy. In her ear he whispered, far too low to be anything but sinister, "And let's hope Vobba really, really owes you…"
Again they pushed through the crowd, and again the lady worked at getting Vobba's attention. With new incentive at her back, though, it worked quicker this time. Vobba, visibly displeased at being disturbed from observing his new entertainer, was instantly appeased when he saw who it was who was beseeching him. Quietly, the woman spoke in the harsh, guttural Huttesse Atton never could stomach. Displeasure soon replaced the willing-to-listen expression in the hutt's demeanor, and he roared for the music to stop. The 'dancer' halted her movements, and Atton glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and for a brief moment almost felt sorry for her. She was visibly strained, though the valiance with which she was holding out was equally visible. And although she hid it well, shame colored her cheeks as well as her exertion did, even as she raised her arms to 'casually' cross them over her barely-covered breasts.
Atton's attention went back to the gurgling conversation between the Hutt and the woman, and for a moment Atton was afraid that this wouldn't work, that he would have to give the signal for the handful of mercenaries disguised as he was to attack, cause a distraction (and probably get themselves killed) so he could grab the Jedi and run, probably getting them killed, as well…
But then the argument smoothed out, and Vobba switched a more basic dialect of Huttesse that Atton understood easier.
/Pah/ the hutt cried. /You are shrewd negotiator, Heiress Dei'gata. Fine! Your brother shall have his gift. I shall lend you my new favorite, for one night only! If she is marred in any way, if your brother does not take the proper precautions against incapacitating my favored one, my ill will shall befall you both/ Then he was waving his stubby arms, and guards were moving towards the suddenly wide-eyed 'entertainer' in silver and black. This time, Atton couldn't ignore the twinge of genuine sympathy that roiled in his gut for the woman- she thought she was being led to an someone who would try to force themselves on her… Suppressing a wince at the memories ellicted by the situation, memories which he had played a very prominent role, Atton maneuvered Dei'gata, the woman, away from Vobba once she'd given her 'deepest thanks.'
"Where will they take her?" Atton murmured inquisitively in Dei'gata's ear as they moved through the crowd.
"I will take you there," Dei'gata said, just as softly, the fear in her voice overcome by the barest beginnings of outrage.
"Why, thank you," Atton responded with mock gratitude.
She led him through the crowds, towards the exit, and when they at last left the entertainment level it took Atton a great deal of effort to conceal the sudden lessening of tension in his face and demeanor. Not to get him wrong, Atton loved a good party with good booze and better women, but not when said women thought his butt was the universal pinch-magnet… Of course, he never had any complaints when it was the other way around…
Down a turbolift and a few set of corridors they went, past grand, sweeping windows and exotic plants in antique urns. Eventually, the grandeur faded, not much, but enough to be noticeable. The decorations were fewer and less expensive, the doorways smaller and less grand.
"This is the room Vobba told me she would be brought to," Dei'gata said stiffly when they at last arrived at the last room at the end of a narrow hall. Pulling her dignity around her like a tattered shawl, she swept her skirts around her as she turned, meaning to leave-
Atton's fist connected with the back of her head, and she fell like a sack of stones into his waiting grip. Hefting her up and over one shoulder, Atton pinched her bottom viciously in one last bit of vengeance. Satisfied the scow would have twin crescent marks on her butt cheek despite the layers of skirts, Atton shifted her weight on his shoulder, reaching one hand into the sash and retrieving a small communications device. Ignoring the audio switch, he tapped out his coordinates in the palace. Similar devices in the sashes of his mercenaries would vibrate out the message, and they would all find ways to leave the party and maneuver to just outside this room, either outside the window –if there was one- or outside this very door. That done, Atton shoved open the door to the room and elbowed his way inside, shutting it behind him…
Ignoring the sharp intake of surprised breath behind him, Atton turned, and spied an extra large, ornate wardrobe in the corner nearest the door. Triumphant, he went to it, opened it, and tossed her ladyship inside. That done, he turned, hands on his hips and a roguish grin on his face… The grin slipped, ever so slightly, when he took in the sight of tie tied-up exile laying haphazardly on the massive bed across the room, glowering at him with enough venom in her gaze to melt plasteel. He suppressed a wince despite himself, and crossed the room. Stepping up onto the platform that the bed was on, his grin returned as he smirked down at the burgundy-haired woman, still in the very, very revealing dancer's outfit.
"Well, well, lookie what I found," he smirked at her, evilly. Shifting movements of her jaw betrayed that she was grinding her teeth. "Come on, say it, I know you want to," he goaded.
"Would you please," the ex-Jedi bit out. "Untie me?"
"Hm, since you asked so nicely…" Atton crossed his arms over his –still- oiled chest, tilting his head as he peered down at the 'dancer' laying on her side, ankles tied and hands bound behind her back. "Na, I think I leave you just the way you are," he grinned wolfishly at the snarl that left her lips. "It'll make it easier if I don't have to fight you once we're out of here…" At the surprise on her face he added, "Yes, believe it or not I have come to rescue you."
"Oh, is that what they're calling it nowadays?" Aelyn snarked. "And here I thought you were just releasing me from Vobba's imprisonment so you yourself could resume being my jailer… Thank you oh so much for updating my mental galactic dictionary-"
Then his hand was on her mouth, silencing her. The walls were then revealed to be thinner than Atton had at first thought, as the unmistakable sounds of…well, 'passion' the delicate term normally used, came from the next room over. Lips quirking in amusement, Atton looked back down at his captive exile to find her face had turned a severe shade of pink. Snickering, he removed his hand, opening his mouth to deliver a tease-
A sudden starburst exploded in front of his vision, at the same time a flurry of pain erupted at the side of his head. Having swung her bound legs up off the bed and around to slam him in the side of his head, Aelyn further swung her legs over the side, getting to her feet and…
Atton, recovering, blinked. She was hopping away, towards the door, fast as that ample Jedi butt could hop…
He couldn't help it- really, he couldn't. He fell against the side of the bed, laughing helplessly. Determined as ever, Aelyn kept on hopping away, towards not the door, but the window. Not quite sure what she intended to do –the window was just as locked as the door was- Atton's laughing ceased when, seemingly of it's own accord, a heavy urn began to raise itself from the floor beside the window, and launch itself towards the transparasteel…
And, of course, bounced right off. Transparasteel was stronger than that. But the resounding echo was loud enough to cause even the noises from the next room to pause for a moment, and Atton rolled onto his back onto the bed, then off the other side to land next to Aelyn, whom had abandoned the window to hop towards the door… He took two long strides, and caught her around the waist, hoisting her up into his arms. She kicked, and wiggled, and thrashed, her hands tied behind her back twisting to the side to scratch and claw at his belly. He ignored the minor abrasions, and tossed her onto the bed. Before she could roll off the other side, he snatched the edge of the soft satin cover and threw it over her. Climbing onto the bed, he stood on the soft mattress and stepped over the thrashing exile and jumped down to the other side. He grabbed the other side of the sheet, and tossed that end over her, too. Reaching up to clear the fabric from her face –she was no good to him suffocated- he set to tying the fabric around her in thick, bulky knots.
"If you're trying to glare holes into the back of my head," he said conversationally. "Thought I'd let you know it's not working."
"No shit," she snarled.
"Tsk, tsk," he admonished, tapping her on the nose as he finished the knots, retreating his finger just in time to avoid the sharp 'click' of her jaws snapping over the air where his finger had been mere half a second before. "And here I thought Jedi weren't supposed to curse…"
"Not a Jedi…" the woman snarled, wiggling in a futile manner in her new bonds.
"Really." Atton snorted, glancing to the fall urn. "That poor piece of crockery over there begs to differ."
She only glared at him, and Atton got a decisively evil pleasure out of simply grinning back. A moment later, the communications device in his sash gave a beep of a vibration, and he retrieved it, and clicked it on.
"Rand," he said into it.
"Look out your window." Came the mercenary's casual, almost bored tones. Atton crossed the room to look out the window, and sure enough five men, having changed their server garb for their regular mercenary armor, hovered a few stories below on swamp speeders. He nodded to himself, and spoke an acknowledgement into the device. He suddenly turned when, at the sound of his voice, a child-like gasp escaped from behind him.
Atton turned, and found himself goggling at the blonde-haired, blue eyed girl that stood by the bed, her hands frozen amid a half-done job of untying Aelyn. There was a hidden passageway –no longer hidden, being that it was open- directly behind her. The girl's jaw was still dropped open, and tears of shock and betrayal glistened in her eyes, echoed a moment later by a glower of deepest anger and hurt.
"Atton…" the girl sniffed angrily. "You did this? How could you… How could you?"
And then Atton found his voice, and squeaked, "Adana?"
To Be Continued….
Yes, yes, I'm evil. I figured, in the KotorII world, if the exile had never shown up, Adana would have ended up getting sold to the Hutts, right? So, what better place for our lovely duo to run into the brash blonde kid? I seriously love Adana, and I kinda wish she'd had a bigger part in the game. For those of you that don't remember her, she's the girl a Light Side character rescues from Saquesh in Nar Shaddaa.
Until next time!
-Amber Penglass