Note: I'm so sorry for making you all wait so long after the fifth chapter! I had serious WB. Anyway, here's the sixth chapter. I was going to put the opening line of Chinurareta kajitsu (copyright, Malice Mizer) instead of 30 Minutes, but wanted to keep up with the flow of the past chapters.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my original characters. The song 30 Minutes is still copyrighted to TATU. Nothing has changed between this chapter and the last in these matters. :-)


30 minutes, a blink of an eye
30 minutes, to alter our lives
30 minutes, to make up my mind
30 minutes, to finally decide

30 minutes, to whisper your name
30 minutes, to shoulder the blame
30 minutes, of bliss, thirty lies
30 minutes, to finally decide

Chapter Six

Cecia couldn't sleep. She had been laying in bed for the past three hours since going to bed, trying to gain some much needed shut-eye. Sorvan wasn't helping much since every hour he wanted to be fed, diaper changed, or demanded her attention. He also seemed more restless than usual.

Outside the streets were quiet. There were no aerial traffic at this hour of day. Because of the quiet she could make out the peaceful chirruping of birds and insects. Overall it was quite peaceful outside.

Then why did she keep feeling a sense of unease, as though a disaster was only just waiting to happen?

This apprehension inside her was far too familiar. She had always felt something directly before the attacks. Outside she could hear faint mechanical scratching, as though someone was trying to dig into her home. The protocal droids were still standing silent. Too quiet.

She sat straight up.

There was a way to find out what the protocal droids were doing. But, she didn't want to step foot outside. Not yet. Her blood was cooling in her body. Something was out there. Watching her.

Scrape. Scrape.

Cecia slowly rose from the bed, pushing the sheets aside.

CRACK!

The sound was like a thunderclap, echoing through the distance:

CRACK…crack…..crack…!

Cecia didn't need anymore motivation. She whipped the sheets from off her body and lunged into the small nursery where her child was laying. He was squirming in his pajamas, red eyes wide open with surprise.

The aura of fear that surrounded her must have gripped him, because soon he began to keen from confusion and stark terror.

She picked him up in her arms, ready to bring him to the sheltered area in the hidden basement.

Her adrenaline induced hearing picked up the sound of something that made the drumming of her heart compete with the loud crack outside.

Footsteps. Inside her home.

And the protocal droids were still silent. Why hadn't they attacked? They had been highly specialized models—no one should have been able to bipass them.

Cecia felt like she was running in slow motion. It was like she was in a nightmare and on the verge of waking up. She had to force herself to keep running, even though her heart wanted to give up inside her. Even though she was tempted to give in to the threat that had been stalking her since Sorvan's birth.

To finally have peace.

To finally succomb to…death. That comforting eternal darkness beckoned to her heart.

Abruptly, something stopped her from taking another step. There was no sound, no voice that should have hindered her from seeking protection. Yet something made her stop and turn around.

A redheaded man was standing behind her like a predator stalking prey. In his arm was a powerful blaster rifle. His face was cold, expressionless. It reminded her of Thrawn. His voice equally so. It was gentle, cultured, yet the sound brought back terrible memories best left forgotten.

"Hand over the infant," he said all too calmly, "and you'll live and be in Grisrond's eternal favor."

Grisrond's eternal favor…peace.

Cecia, held spellbound and enthralled by something unseen, found herself walking to the redhead with jerking motions. Like a puppet on a string. Something was terribly wrong. And her thoughts were hazy…

Sweet blood, the thin voice whispered sidiously into her ear. Her blood chilled. The temperature in the room became abruptly unbearably cold. Her limbs felt numb and the hair in the back of her head rose.

In the distance someone screamed. And in that moment, the spell was cracked open, splintering so that her mind was once again her own.

I want to live…

I-I-I-I-I

Josan Milburn re-checked his weapon status, his artificial eyes sweeping watchfully over the isolated house. He had been assigned to watch over Norvar's house. A squad of hidden mercenaries was nearby if there was trouble.

Thrawn had wisely declined the usage of white-armored stormtroopers. The sight would not only scare the aggressor, but would also cause panic among the natives of Naboo. In time Thrawn would rise to power again, but in the meanwhile he was keeping to the shadows in secrecy.

CRACK! Crack…crack…crack…!

What the—?

Green ionizer beams bounced toward the protocal droids, and then black shadows began to move across the lawn, crawling like spiders through the dark of the early morning.

He switched his comm to order the mercenaries to open fire, but the comm unit was jerked out of his hand from a red blaster bolt. He was about to whip out his own weapon in answer, but the hard nozzle of a blaster pressed against the back of his neck stopped him cold.

"Don't move," a low voice said directly behind him.

Kuchiki Ichigo? What was going on?

"Put your weapon on the ground. Now," the man ordered. "I'm sorry to do this to you, sir, but I have my reasons."

"I'm sure you do," Milburn said gravely. He tried to keep his voice from tremoring. It woud be humiliating to show fear at this moment. If he were to die, if this was his moment to die, he would go without fear. Without remorse, but would die a warrior's death. And whatever Ichigo wanted he wouldn't get. "And what are those reasons?" Milburn continued as he lowered his weapon.

He looked at Norvar's house, cursing silently as he saw a figure moving around inside. Why weren't his mercenaries attacking?

"They're busy playing with my private squad," Kuchiki Ichigo said into his thoughts. "I think your Grand Admiral's tactical brilliance is vastly overrated; Grisrond is one step ahead of him. As he will always be."

Kriff!

Faintly, as though in answer to those spoken words, a shrill scream filled the air and then was abruptly cut off.

Milburn sensed rather than felt Ichigo's dark smile.

"And why should I tell you what my reasons are?" Ichigo said contemptuously.

Milburn brought his shoulders up as though to shrug, but the blaster nozzle was pressed harder against his neck.

"Because it would make things much easier," he replied.

The young man was silent for a handbreadth.

"In the Unknown Regions our beloved Grand Admiral had come upon a certain planet It was a vast planet, with a primitive and yet simultaneously advanced culture. The aliens, while being partially aggressive, were mostly a peaceful kind and they served and worshipped a being known only as Grisrond. They would offer him the blood of those who had made an aggressive assault against him or had done him wrong. Or, the aliens would offer him the blood of the son of the enemy if the father was dead. I guess you could say Grisrond was a vampire."

A chill crawled down Milburn's spine, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He had a funny feeling where this was going. That person in Cecia Norvar's house…

Ichigo released a snort of disdain.

"Our dearest Grand Admiral decided to release an attack against the aliens. It was officiated by Emperor Palpatine, but Thrawn struck against them because he saw no use in them and was unable to manipulate them to his cause. He slaughtered them. Women. Children. Each ordered to be systematically destroyed. Grisrond escaped. I, however, I helped him. I was there. And now, Grisrond wants blood. He's starving for it," Ichigo hissed.

No. Thrawn had never committed such an atrocity. Yes, some Imperials had butchered aliens and other species, but Thrawn was above that. He would never stoop so low as to commit genocide!

Milburn narrowed his eyes.

'You're lying."

Ichigo released a brief, grim laugh from behind him.

"Didn't you ever ask where old 'Red Eyes' got that old sculpt' from? Didn't anyone ever question him?"

Milburn was about to answer when he heard a slight thud followed by a low grunt. He took his chance and snatched his blaster back up, turning around to see Ichigo on his back, a small, steaming black hole revealing the mark of a blaster bolt. And standing next to the body with an expression of contempt was—

Grand Admiral Thrawn. In his human disguise, of course.

Milburn felt shock running through his body, followed quickly by anger. Thrawn was here, out in the open, while a battle was going on. A stray blaster bolt could kill him. What did Thrawn think he was doing out here? He wasn't an invincible force! What had possessed him to become so reckless!

"Relax. I am more hardier than what I appear. And." Thrawn looked over at the house in the distance. "I protect my own."

Milburn gathered himself to argue his point, but then he remembered what it was they were fighting for. What they were trying so hard to defend.

I protect my own.

I-I-I-I-I-I

I want to live…

New awareness filled Cecia. Awareness of life and of the fact that if she wanted to survive she must fight (or endure) longer. Sorvan was actually quiet in her arms, but she could feel his body shivering like a leaf in the wind.

And that, in itself was what made the twisted darkness leave the house. The realization that in her selfish want for peace and silence, the life of her child would be drowned out.

Also, there was something more to this man than the need for vengeance. There was something oily and sinister about him.

His eyes were like hard glass marbles; there was no remorse in them—they were as remote as those of a cold-blooded reptile. There was nothing in him keeping him from killing her and Sorvan.

"Hand over the infant, chell!"

He spat the added insult, waving his blaster rifle for emphasis on what would happen if she disobeyed him. She backed away from him, her arms covering Sorvan protectively.

"What do you want with him?" she demanded. Chills were spreading down her spine.

The man's lips curled upward into a gentle smile, but the glossy gleam never left his eyes.

"What do I want with him?" he echoed, as though he didn't understand the question. "Naturally, I want to give him to Grisrond. Afterall, Chiss blood is the sweetest. And. Grisrond is hungry for vengeance."

Revolted, Cecia looked around for anything that would put a stop to this man. For anyway for escape. But there wasn't a way to escape. She couldn't fight holding Sorvan, and she wouldn't be able to run away in the time it took for the man to blast her. But, perhaps she could find a way to distract him and then knock the blaster from his hands. It would be stupid, but better than waiting to be blown to bits.

The door sliding slowly, soundlessly, open rom behind the twisted man made that glimmer of fool's hope disappear into tattered fragments. This person, this monster, had back-up to make sure she couldn't escape.

Once again her life was in the hands of someone else, once again someone else was forcing her to do something horrendous. Only this time it wasn't just her body. It was someone else's life, someone else's blood they were after. Being violated had been a terrible experience. This was much worse.

The group of men that entered her home were the big, burly types. They were ugly, brutish, with faces scarred up from past battles. They wore an odd assortment of armor, and were heavily armed with weapons.

"Sure we should just kill her, sir?" one asked. "Looks like she'll be a tight one! I wanna try her." Several of the men made a chorus of, "Yeah, why not!" and ugly, barking laughter.

The redheaded man contemplated this for a moment, shrugged, and said, "Sure, why not?"

Cecia's skin crawled and her stomach clenched tightly with nausea. She didn't stop or hesitate but followed her strong instinct to get out of there as fast as possible.

She didn't get very far.

A rough hand snatched her by the shoulder, squeezing like a metal pincer, tossing her into the group. Someone wrenched Sorvan from her arms.

She let out an outraged cry, a desperate sob coming from her mouth, now seeking to snatch him from the men even though she was sickened inside because of them. She did know a little bit of combat, but evidently it wasn't enough—they overpowered her very quickly, laughing at her exertion all the while.

As she was pinned to the ground, as she felt her night shirt being torn and cut from her body—exposing her nude breasts to their profane eyes—her mind shut down. She couldn't see or hear anything around her. All she knew was that the nightmare was happening again. And this was much worse than when Thrawn had done the same. Much worse.

She wanted to fight the act of violation, the feeling of being invaded by brutal force, of having her body used once more on another's selfish whimsy. Wanted to escape and break free. Or die in the process.

"Quit your"—

The voice was cut off abruptly as blaster bolts danced into the house, cutting off rude, coarse laughter and profane jibes into shouts of anger, pain, and terror.

One blast rendered the lights useless, the electronics fizzling out. There was a confusing scurry of legs scampering to get away intermixed with the dull thud of dead bodies gliding to the ground. Through it all Cecia stayed where she was. Sorvan was silent. Where was Sorvan? Then all the sounds, the screams, the cursing, the beating hearts, all were silent.

Someone wrapped something around her to conceal her naked breasts and helped her sit up. Someone else switched on a glow rod.

The man who helped her sit up was the same she had seen in that lowdown market a few days ago. His hair was jet black, his skin was a pale yellow color, and he had ebony eyes. He appeared rough, but there was something about him that made him seem much more sophisticated than the men that had attempted to rape and kill her. There was something so much more civilized about him. And yet, there was something about him that made the back of her neck tingle.

The fact he was right beside her didn't help matters any. In fact, because of his sheer size and build, she was feeling very apprehensive. In the primordial recesses of her mind an old fear spread as memories were awakened, and her limbs started to tremble from the feeling of helplessness. She flinched from the man's touch and instinctively drew the jacket tighter over her body.

"I won't hurt you," the man stated gently, coaxingly, as though she was a traumatized bantha cub. He moved away from her, knowing perhaps how much terror his presence evoked inside her. "I've been watching over you ever since I heard about Sorvan's birth."

She opened her mouth to gather words to say to him, but the words were silent. She couldn't bring herself to say much around him. He reminded her to much of…him. And he evoked unpleasant memories she had tried hard to forget.

The man cleared his throat and took a quick glance around the room, at the men laying dead, bodies twisted in pain.

"They had reinforcements and those will be coming very soon. Come with me and I will give you my complete protection."

Cecia was hesitant to respond. He was asking her to go with him. She didn't know who he was, or what he was working under. She wanted to ask him his name, but to her astonishment, he answered the question while it was silent.

"I am going under the alias Kuraha Yamanaka. My true name is secret, and I serve under no one. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

She nodded, still feeling ill at ease with the man.

The black eyes narrowed somewhat.

"If I wanted to kill you I would have done so. But trust me when I say I want to protect you, that I want to exterminate the person who desires most to destroy you and your son."

Grisrond…

The unspoken name sent a shiver of dread through her body. She had been almost driven by an unseen force to hand her child over to Halburn.

"Chiss blood is the sweetest…"

A vampire.

Sweet blood, the pure voice echoed through the recesses of her mind.

It no longer mattered that this man reminded her of Thrawn, that she had almost been raped once more—this new threat made all of those terrors pale in comparison.

She would have to go with this man. This "Kuraha Yamanaka".

Any fate, after all, was better than having Grisrond hunt her son.