Chapter 6 The Start of It All
Eva had stared at his exquisite black boots. Until he spoke to her.
" 'Cescily,' is it?"
The first steps she placed aboard Imperial quadanium steel. The beginning of everything. He kindly took off her handcuffs.
The black boots worn by the Rear Admiral were like all within sight - superbly constructed, imposing and darkly efficient. As if simply being the outlier in the Imperial's world wasn't disturbing enough, she had never seen or experienced anything remotely close to the Star Destroyer's bridge- polished, spotless pewter and black. The fully staffed crew pits managed operation of the ship with satisfied confidence. The hollow, reverberating footsteps were tempered by an ambient hum of the craft itself. Beyond the bank of windows curved around the bridge, the sweeping view from the star destroyer's tower took in the vast field of the main hull below. Further distant, tie fighters and troop transports darted to and from the looming jewel- her planet - now in the middle of an unwelcomed Imperial occupation.
Cescily gazed transfixed, as two additional star destroyers approached from the night side of Arda-2. A city's worth of small lights glowed before the tips of their bows pieced the light, which then cascaded across their massive pale grey bodies and swept up to reveal their imposing towers. The enormity of destroyers was breathtaking. She could barely fathom the thousands that must have inhabited them. No wonder Mag Doum had been in awe and admiration, an Imperial sympathizer. Not two days earlier, none of this was conceivable. The game had yet to begin…
It had started inauspiciously enough, three small Rebel craft had entered Arda-2 airspace, and now the scale of this?
Admiral Yeager was seated with legs crossed, near her in a side bay. Presumably the area was his personal station on the bridge. He was oblivious to the brilliant display of Imperial might going on out the windows at his back. Cescily could not decipher the indicators of rank on his impeccable grey-green uniform. Judging from his late middle age, he could have been part of the Imperial Navy a very long while.
"How did the 'interrogation' go with Navy Intelligence?" he asked. "Trello is vying to be the worst bastard since our late Grand Moff Tarkin."
"What do you know of Doum's activities this morning?" Trello had breathed down her neck.
"Nothing, until I heard he was being pursued." Her eyes settled on Trello's black boots as well.
"Why were you at his landing strip?..."
If Cescily had the opportunity to meet the recently deceased Tarkin, she would have considered the likening an extreme exaggeration of Trello. But Trello had to proceed lightly, with no understanding if she were friend or foe. The conversation had gone slow. Cescily would think before she spoke. A distracting, black ball of a droid hung in the air.
"Do you realize the seriousness of attending a seditious meeting on Arda-2, and your failure to report it?" asked Trello, uniformed in black with painfully erect spine.
Cescily spoke under her breath. "Your authority over the system is questionable. I didn't personally extend help to the Rebels."
"You didn't get much of a chance, did you? In addition to Skywalker and the other two Rebels, there were a large number of local individuals at the meeting, were there not?"
Again they had singled out Luke. "Yes." It was only her, Trello, and the humming droid in a windowless room. She had not yet been to the bridge. She wasn't exactly sure where she was, having debarked from the windowless cargo hold of a shuttle. She gathered that Mag Doum was near, but she hadn't been allowed to see him.
"How many?" Trello sucked the air through his teeth.
"Roughly 40 or so."
"Tell me who they were."
Cescily hesitated. "I didn't know most of them."
"Then you knew some?" he barely restrained a scoff of derision. "Who were they?"
"You have Doum for that."
"I want you to tell me." He stood over her, and when she offered no more he stuck her. As the sting to the side of her head and ear ebbed, she spoke with a tone no more acquiescent. "I have not, nor was I in the power to do anything for the Rebels. What are you going to do, punish the entire planet?"
Just a standard month earlier, it would have been quite simple to do just that. "Perhaps we'll make an example of you. Besides, if the traitors of Arda-2 can afford to 'give away' their supply of dedlanite, the Empire will be more than happy to have it."
Rear Admiral Yeager had thought to have a meal brought to her on the bridge, but it sat mostly untouched on the console behind her. He noted her vivid white gown with gold belt, wondering if they typically overdressed on Arda-2- much more cosmopolitan than he expected. The wedge neckline and fitted sleeves hugged her well proportioned figure. If not for their interception, wouldn't she have spent the day adding credits at a mining facility? Maybe there was more to the wide-eyed girl caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Cescily had pulled on her best the previous two days. They had been more eventful than her entire life before. She regarded Yeager dubiously, "My family doesn't know where I am."
"It's going to stay that way," he responded without mockery nor warmth.
"Will you be sending me back over to Arda-2 soon?"
"I doubt it."
"Well…?"
"Lord Vader has taken an interest in all this, Perhaps you could tell me why? His ship is due any time and you'll probably be transferred there with your friend. Along with those other denizens of your fine capital city of Bestlestraume we've collected."
"Who is Lord Vader?"
The lighting changed. The bridge had darkened as shadow swept over the hull beyond. Further aft, the shadow also fully engulfed the two other star destroyers. Cescily stood and walked to the window. Something incomprehensibly large had blocked the light from above and behind. And as she pressed her cheek to the cold glass to look upward, the darkened underbelly of the Executor eased into view.
Trello had come to the bridge to collect her, irate she wasn't in handcuffs. He and four stormtroopers were now behind her back, roughly marching her along the corridors of the Executor to be personally delivered to Lord Vader. Vader had already taken in Trello's reports and held no interest in Doum.
"If you don't fear death, you'll have no concern with Lord Vader," he sputtered off smugly. Perhaps Trello thought the offhand threatening remark would instill compliance. More likely, he had perceived she was too ignorant to be fittingly fearful. She stared back at him deeply disturbed, and the Cescily that entered the room alone with Lord Vader was not the flippant young woman who Trello had interrogated. There was more to this than her infraction. She didn't have a handle on it. And in that instant which she passed through the doorway, she succumbed to the gravity and defeat. They had her life in their palm, and any breath thereafter was a gift. At the sight of him, Cescily came to an abrupt stop and the door slid shut just behind.
She took in the oversized frame, the odd amour and draping fabric that matched no other's uniform- the colorful and mysterious electronics that glowed from his chest and belt. The black metal which encased him spotlessly gleamed, very much consistent with his surroundings. The steady rasp was impossible to ignore. She wondered what happened to the presence that he needed a respirator. He regarded her a moment, then approached. His deep voice resonated richly though mechanical, so clearly sealed from the outer world. "Tell me about Skywalker..."
Vader's line of questioning took a different turn from Trello. He did not concentrate on the citizens of Arda-2. Rather, he wanted her to recite every verbal exchange with Luke. What was Skywalker's impression of her? Why would he converse with the companion of an Imperial sympathizer? She explained that Doum's allegiances weren't clear.
"…And did you relay what you learned from the Rebels during the tour of the mining facility, to Doum?"
"Of course, it was Doum who was behind my being selected to host the Rebels."
It wasn't long before Vader understood that none of the Rebels, and none of the inhabitants of Arda-2 knew she was intimately affiliated with the non-human Doum. Mag Doum's status as an informant was wrecked by his ineptitude and greed for recognition, but his little side-act was an opportunity unto itself.
He made a slight movement with his gloved hand, and her handcuffs fell to the floor with a clank. Cescily stared at them, perplexed, but resisted picking them up to inspect how Vader managed the trick.
"I'm going to propose something similar, albeit on a larger scale."
Just the day before, he had taken possession of the Executor. Now he had taken possession of her.
While she waited, the kitchen supervisor would offer her a drink and divulge a preparation technique or two. He had no expectation Eva would ever have use for them, but hoped for greater appreciation.
Imperial Palace chefs were all over themselves to outdo all of Coruscant on the scale of the exotic and fussy, and their own previous heights as well. Even if you liked a particular dish, you'd not see it again for months and by then, you had forgotten about it.
Roughly thirty trays with warmers were set out. Eva randomly chose three and placed them on a hover cart. The remaining would then be released to the highest ranking echelon in the Imperial Palace, who preferred to dine in.
At the front of the Emperor's private suite two Royal Guards stood silently, indicating Palpatine was inside. Eva sent notice on her commlink and waited for the entrance. There were no controls on the outside. If the Emperor was not present, there was no getting in there. If he left something behind, there was no sending anyone back alone to fetch it. Housekeeping droids were sometimes found waiting by the entrance. Palpatine of course, could activate the interior controls from beyond the door.
It was an inauspicious moment, but it was really the first time she was truly allowed to pursue what she would be doing every year thereafter, for her foreseeable future.
The chilled air enfolded her entrance and the hover cart followed. The suite was expansive with ornate, stone walls and cavernous arched ceilings. Carved out of a thousand year old meditation chapel, there were no windows and no superfluous objects save a few artworks. Included were the bronze statues of the four Sages of Dwartii, relocated from his Chancellor's office.
It was a misnomer that Palpatine still occupied one of the upper tower suites in the former Jedi temple. Much was told by the Emperor's weariness of the sweeping overlook of Coruscant, the skyscrapers and skylanes littered with the transports of insignificant minions going about their pitiful existence.
Palpatine was seated in a dim alcove made into his office, and looked up long enough to ask that she put on some opera. He only mentioned a style not a piece, and Eva was silently grateful to have the wherewithal to understand his meaning. She could still count on her hands the number of times she had been his presence. The effect was waning but she still felt the air constricted and was coming to realize she was simply holding her breath.
She looked over the spaces within immediate view for anything out of order. Then she stood quietly until Aloo arrived to oversee, as she was not yet trusted to make herself inobtrusive.
It was Eva's duty to dine on one of the dinners she'd brought, specifically at the far end of a dramatically long table where she'd not interfere with the Emperor's reading of various reports on a datapad. But that evening, Palpatine asked her and Aloo to be seated closer. He randomly chose one of the dinners, and Eva poured three glasses with spirits. She would be obliged to drink part of hers, but was prohibited from drinking it all. Despite the use of kitchen food scanners (after all, Courtiers were acceptable collateral damage), the ceremonial habit remained observed for the Courtier's own motivation.
For several minutes, Palpatine drank in silence while listening to the music. "Have you yet seen a performance at The Galaxies Opera House?" he asked after a while.
Eva looked to Aloo, until she realized she was the one spoken to. "No, your Highness."
"You should make a point of going. How far out is the box taken?"
"Eight standard months," Aloo responded.
"Humph. Pestage is too generous with those seats."
Aperitifs were dominated by details of the Naboo trip and inside references. The dinner wasn't anything Eva had encountered before. Exotics slices of meat were lain out for dipping into boiling hot broth. Duplicates of everything had been provided so they didn't have to reach. The entire ritual was making her dining offering to Aloo aboard the Lacerate seem shabby.
Extra caution was needed to not set her flared, velvet sleeve aflame from the pot's burner. Eva's experience under Vader's direction had cut her down to the raw, trying to emulate his efficient functionality. Now it was like whiplash under the thumb of the Courtiers. Her entire ensemble required extra consideration as the lengthy sash could be tripped over if she leaned forward and the back hem of the garment was long enough to clean the floor. The garb they donned to meet each day - constricted by clothing, constricted by protocol, they had to get the dance right for the Emperor. Didn't ceremony underscore how high they'd come beyond mere survival? Eva, play the game.
"This is unbelievably delicious," she whispered aloud.
"I've noticed you're easily impressed," Aloo decided. "The best way you can mitigate your common background, is to not gape at expense." Luxury was to be appreciated, but expected.
Was he really going to talk about personal matters in front of the Emperor?
"Make no mistake," he added. "Just because we appointed you, doesn't mean we want you to be yourself."
Apparently so.
Then he nodded to Palpatine, "But you'll find our Emperor has become quite austere." Well, that was all relative. Aloo paused as he tended to his boiling morsel. "But you've no dearth of roll playing. How did you ingratiate yourself with the Rebel Alliance, or specifically Captain Leahmour, whom I've heard you were closely connected? …Before you finished him off."
Eva studied Aloo's blue sunken eyes and enigmatic expression, trying to read his designs. "I encouraged Leahmour to talk about himself." That, and a half dozen other seat-of-her-pants, self-made strategies she wasn't going to get into.
Aloo mulled over her for a moment, a slight smirk curling his lips. "Our Emperor won't be susceptible, but listening will be of benefit. Did you get Lord Vader to talk?"
Palpatine's eyes rose to meet hers.
"No," she put in without hesitation.
Aloo did nothing more than flick her a silent glance. Whatever had transpired between her and Vader, it was the right answer. "In the future, you will have to be forthcoming...
"We have noticed your reticence to draw attention. Your disinterest in a public presence. Your position comes with an enormous amount of influence and social cache, by which you should not be tempted to profit."
They were interrupted with an incoming hologram from the Advanced Weapons Research Agency. No private time was sacred. Construction revisions for the second Death Star were ready for Palpatine's review and they were being forwarded. There were several issues to go over afterward, Grand Moff Tiaan Jerjerrod added, then several sections were shown in hovering, 3-d detail as the officer's voice continued to narrate.
Watching Eva, with her face lit in the blue glow of a shaft's hologram, Palpatine felt the first hint of what would become an unsettling, reoccurring premonition. Eva had some relevant connection to that star base he could not comprehend. "Go back," he asked Jerjerrod, but when the shaft reappeared, the impression was gone.