Well, here it is, Chapter Eleven. I'm not really happy with how it ends, as it has a feeling to it like it sort of fizzled out. Not my intention, but there was information that needed to be conveyed. This was also a harder chapter to write.
DISCLAIMER: This chapter deals with drug use, and may not be suitable for children. Viewer discretion advised. I tried not to glorify the drug use in any way at all, but this is a character with demons, and I couldn't keep dancing around the issues she faces. Nor did I want to shy away from the topic because to do so would be to insult you, the readers by offering pap instead of meat, and would be a disservice to the character because she must know the depths of despair before she can appreciate the heights of redemption.
Chapter Eleven
She locked the door to her quarters and turned, then stopped, eyes widening in shock.
Sitting on her kaf table was a cardboard box sealed with meshtape. The box was for powdered milk packets, but she doubted that's what it contained. On top of the box was a white card, but she couldn't read it from the doorway, and she didn't want to get any closer.
Where had that box come from? It couldn't have been Nilas; if he'd wanted to give her something, he would have just done so. Then, fear tingled down her back as she worried that whoever had put the box in her room might have found her stash in the air duct above her closet. A quick check revealed it was still there, much to her relief. That still left the question of who had left the box for her.
She had no contacts from the Imperial Intelligence community aboard the ship; her supply of ryll kor came from random pickups when the Fury stopped at a planet, or when a shuttle would show up, ostensibly to drop off personnel or equipment, but was really dropping off a fresh supply. If there was an ISB agent aboard as Nilas thought, she doubted he or she would know of her or her mission; the Intelligence community was very compartmentalized so that there was always plausible deniability.
Who else had access codes to her quarters? It would have to have been someone in the senior command. Only they would have the security override codes. She stared at the box from her sleeping quarters as though looking at a poisonous serpent. She was frozen in indecision, fear running its icy fingers up and down her spine.
Chewing her lower lip, she finally forced herself to approach the box and snatched the card off the top.
With compliments, Commander. –M.V.
"Em Vee? Who in—" she started to say, and then her eyes widened in anger. "Valens!" How dare that stupid abo! she fumed. "I'm going to box his ears bloody!" What in Palpatine's name had he been thinking? The box undoubtedly contained contraband of one variety or another, but the more important question was, how in blazes had he accessed this deck, let alone her quarters? An ensign's code cylinder would be incapable of accessing this level, which was coded for senior officers.
It was insubordination, she thought angrily, balling up the card and throwing it at the garbage chute, missing. He was going to hear from her at length about this security breach. What if he'd seen the framed banner above her bed? It showed almost the same emblem as was tattooed on her left shoulder blade, and was an actual relic from the Clone Wars. That's all she'd need—him seeing that and recognizing her from the shower room back on Bilbringi. Fool man!
She closed her eyes and swayed; the heat needed to be dealt with first. She started towards her sleeping quarters, then glanced back at the box and stopped. "Nerf plop," she growled. She really should deal with the contraband first, but glanced longingly towards the air duct above her closet. She chewed her lip; maybe she could just do a little, then—no! That would only make things worse because then she'd want to do just a little more, then a little more, and soon, her whole supply would be gone.
She took a deep breath and tossed her robe on her bed. She knew she'd better deal with the contraband now. "Stupid abo," she growled, furious with Valens for pulling a stunt like this. Nilas had already had her quarters secretly searched at least once. She knew only because she'd used some spit to stick a single hair to closet door, and when she'd returned, the hair was gone.
She wiped her hands on the towel and sat on the couch in front of the box. The heat was making her sweat, so she needed to hurry; with that in mind, she tore open the top of the box. If it was alcohol, she decided, tossing the meshtape in the garbage chute, she was going to hide it right out in the open, on the shelf under the viewscreen, right next to the clear plastoid carafe of water and set of five tumblers.
Inside the box was indeed alcohol—two bottles of liquor, to be exact. One was a tall, round bottle of Dorian Quill, an expensive, amber-colored brandy that was aged for twelve years. The other was a squat trapezoidal bottle of abrax, an even more expensive aquamarine cognac. Attached to the bottle was another note: "Now, you can invite me up for a proper drink."
"Idiot," she grumbled, crumpling the note. The abrax alone probably cost more than she made in a pay period; she didn't even want to think about where Valens could've nicked it from. One thing she did know, though, was one didn't give a gift like that without expecting something in return, and she hated feeling obligated. She set the bottles on the table.
Next came a small humidor containing twenty-five cigars from Delaya, Alderaan's sister-planet known for its high-quality t'bac. She set that on the end table next to the couch. There was also a red velvet-lined greel-wood box inlaid with gold writing that said, OUTLANDER CLUB on the top of it. Inside was a brand new desk of sabacc cards featuring images of the various types of Clone Troopers and battle droids, along with four rows of multi-colored chips of various denominations.
This gift actually made her smile. Seeing the Clone Troopers brought back pleasant memories of growing up after the Clone Wars. It wasn't going to get Valens off the hook by any means, she decided, setting the box on the corner of the kaf table. She was still going to box his ears. Well, maybe she would just give him a long lecture on fraternizing with his superiors.
At the bottom of the box, she found a new issue of the thick magazine, Star Girl Quarterly, and she felt a blush spreading across her face and neck as she examined the cover. "Little Nahno Picks This Season's Smashball Champions!" it announced across the top. Below the banner was an image of the kaf and cream-skinned Twi'lek smiling back over her should at the imager with her arms resting on her head and her slender posterior thrust out.
"I'll bet she does," she laughed. Of course, Valens would send her something like this—as far as he knew, she was a red-blooded male Imperial officer. Shaking her head, she flipped through the magazine, the pleasant scent of the cologne ads wafting up. In addition to Nahno's photo spread and centerfold, there was the usual selection of pictorials of half-dressed or fully naked women of various humanoid and near-human species, plus articles on beer, hologames, and new airspeeders with ridiculously overpowered engines. It seemed men's fantasies were all the same regardless of their species.
She tossed the magazine down on the kaf table and stood up. Let Nilas make of it what he would, she decided. She tossed the empty box in the garbage chute and put the bottles of liquor on the she shelf, then padded into her sleeping quarters. If Nilas asked, she'd tell him she was trying to blend in with the other crewmen.
She peeled off her sweaty clothing and stood naked under the air duct, letting the cool air wash over and dry the sweat on her skin. She folded her arms on top of her head and closed her eyes; the cool air felt so good, she almost didn't want to move.
Finally, though, she stood on tiptoes and removed the louvered cover of the air duct, then reached inside. Carefully, she pulled out a small, leather valise, then walked into the refresher. The heat was burning hotter and hotter, now.
The refresher opened to the left and was about five meters long and two wide. Looking lengthwise into the room, a long counter with a wide mirror above it was along the right wall, and the head was in the far right corner. Built into the left wall were shelves containing towels, linens, and various hygienic products, and in the left corner was the sani-steam enclosed by clear glass doors. To the immediate right of the entrance was a full-length mirror that she rarely used; she hated her reflection.
Much of her self-loathing came from how much weight she'd lost from the ryll kor, but that was only a part of it. She couldn't see her reflection without seeing what a failure she was. Her long dark hair was gone; only a centimeter or two remained, making her ears look as if they were sticking out and angles of her face seem sharper and gaunter. Dark, haunted eyes looked out from under thick, dark eyebrows, and shadows pooled under the lids, making them look sunken. Beneath her small breasts, she could count ribs, and just below her right shoulder, on the side of the bicep, was a jagged, five centimeter-long scar from her childhood, received during the Separatist occupation of her homeworld of Ywallndr.
Worst of all, though, were the ugly, yellowish bruises in the creases of her groin—the sites of the ryll kor injections—constantly reminding her of what she was.
Frowning, she turned and looked over her shoulder at her sore backside. Her skin was pallid and had an unhealthy translucence so the red imprints left by Nilas showed very clearly and were tender to the touch. "Kiffing abo," she muttered. It wasn't like she had much fat back there to soften the blows.
She set the valise on the counter and her eyes went to the rainbow sparkle from her pea-sized heart-of-fire gem hanging between her breasts by a very fine aurodium necklace. She stopped to stare at it as it threw prismatic dots of light across her sweat-damp skin and the Imperial tags hanging on a chain above it.
"Brann," she whispered, touching the gem with the tips of her fingers as a tear rolled down her cheek. It was startling how easily the memories came flooding back to her, and how vivd they were. She could still smell the scents of fried bread dough and spun sugar drifting through the night-time air at the Harvest Fair where she'd bought the gem. She could still hear the excited screams of children running down the fairway between the large starships of the off-world merchants who came to visit on their annual migration through the Ywllandr system.
Ywllandr was a backrocket planet in the New Territories with only infrequent contact with the rest of the galaxy. Much of the arable colony lands were dedicated to agriculture and livestock. Her family lived in a village named Minami and raised nerfs and small, goat-like creatures called toosa. Brann had been her only sibling, and they'd shared a special bond as twins. He'd been her best friend and constant playmate, and she'd decided to do something special for their lifeday the year before the Separatists invaded.
Once a year in a large, empty field about a half-kilometer from her village, the townspeople would host an annual Harvest Fair, and for an entire weekend, all the village people would gather to celebrate. There'd be music and dancing, contests and scavenger hunts, and of course, lots of food and drink.
Most importantly, however, were the arrival of the De'Shi, a rag-tag assortment of nomadic merchants and scholars of a wide variety of races and backgrounds. They were avowed pacifists, and would travel the stars in their Dreadnaught-class heavy cruisers which they converted into floating bazaars. They would often travel to worlds of sometimes dubious-archaeological value to sift or relics to sell to fund their travels, and it seemed they always had something interesting for sale, even I it was only information.
Many worlds closer to the Core considered the De'Shi something of a nuisance because they were viewed as nothing more than vagabonds and thieves, though this reputation was largely unjustified. It was also a common refrain among children upset with their parents that they were going to run away and join the De'Shi.
To worlds in the Outer Rim, though, they were a godsend because they would bring newer technology to sell, and news about the rest of the galaxy that could be had for the cost of a warm meal and a cold beer. So when the De'Shi arrived on Ywllandr, hundreds of people from surrounding villages would flock to Minami to purchase new farm equipment, droids, seed capsules, tools, foodstuffs, medical supplies, weapons, clothing, and more.
All that Spring and summer, she'd saved every deci-cred she'd earned doing chores for not only her family, but anyone else that needed help, and when the De'Shi arrived, she walked the fairway for hours between the large transports, looking at the wares and merchandise for something special. It wasn't until the last night that she met the Kiffar who used a simple feat of conjuration to produce the gem seemingly out of thin air.
As it spun and twisted in front of her, the gem caught the firelight from nearby cookfires and refracted it into dozens of multi-colored starbursts. He told her what it was, explaining that his people believed the heart-of-fire gems, when given to someone you loved, carried a little piece of your spirit so that the person would always have you with them.
Being only eight at the time, she began to cry because she knew that she had found the perfect gift, but couldn't possibly afford something so extraordinary. Laughing, the Kiffar took half of the hundred or so credits she'd saved and gave her the gem, thanking her for helping him to, "restore the balance," or something. Then, he pronounced the De'Shi blessing over her:
"May the paths of your life be guided by the cosmos, and may you shine like the stars."
Only much later did she learn that the gem was worth many times what she'd paid. Brann got his gift, though, and wore it every day for the rest of his life. She'd told him that as long as he wore it, she'd always be there to protect him and watch over him.
She blinked back tears and opened the leather valise. She hadn't been able to protect him—stang, she hadn't even been able to protect herself. She'd made a mess of her life, and the Empire would never let her go, she thought bitterly as she drew her poison into the syringe. She would never be anything other than an expendable asset that could be quietly removed if she proved troublesome.
Sniffing and wiping away tears, she drew a little more into the syringe—0.3cc rather than 0.25. She wanted to make sure she was well and truly dusted so she could rid herself for a little while of all the guilt and pain. She turned, forcing herself to watch her reflection in the full-length mirror as she squatted slightly and reached between her legs to feel for the pulse on the right side of her groin. Finding one, she placed the needle and let it rest on the surface of the skin, focusing all of her hatred and rage on the reflection as she pushed it in.
She threw her head back and gasped as the ryll kor flooded through her. She fell to her knees, quickly pulling the needle free with hands that were fast becoming lame, and awkwardly setting it on the counter as the rush hit her like a tidal wave. She fell back with her legs folded underneath her as it felt like gravity had suddenly shifted ninety-degrees. She stared up unseeing at the ceiling as the wave washed over her.
The golden glow exploded inside of her and seared her from the inside out as the heat blistered her skin and made sweat run like water. She could only lay there gasping and moaning in ecstasy so sharp it was painful. Waves of spine-tingling pleasure rolled up and down her limbs, and her body felt like it was resonating with deafening but soundless vibrations.
Though no more than fifteen or twenty minutes had passed, it felt like hours, and as she came back to her senses, she found herself curled in a fetal position, shivering at the cold sweat left on her skin, much of which puddled around her on the deck. Her limbs felt like rubber, and she could hardly move. Her breath was ragged and came in pants as she gasped for air.
The high itself made her feel like she was going to fly right up out of the ship, and she giggled and laughed until tears came out of her eyes at the thought of floating up past the bridge window, naked as the day she was born. Wouldn't Valens be surprised! She tried not to laugh—what if Nilas heard her and came in? He'd find her laying on the floor without any clothes on, soaked in sweat. She laughed even harder until her sides hurt.
Finally, though, she regained some control over her surging emotions and rolled over stiffly to climb to her knees, then stand. Everything felt as if it was in slow motion and she were standing on pillows. Her hypersensitive skin tingled sharply as the air current dried her skin, stirring every hair and activating every nerve ending.
She tuned out the echoes and cleaned the floor, then put her ryll kor away and went to the sani-steam, setting the pressure for the lowest setting. Even still, the water pressure made her knees buckle though it was no harder than a gentle rain. She gasped at the pleasure/pain of the spray as it flayed her; biting her lip, she leaned forward to keep her knees locked and quickly washed up.
Afterwards, she dressed fast and made sure to wrap her breasts tightly—the second day aboard the Fury after dusting herself, she'd walked out, having completely forgotten to wrap them, but got back to her quarters without being seen. She clipped her lightsaber to her belt, made sure her code cylinders were with her, and opened the door to the living quarters.
She walked over to the kaf table where Nahno Orteka stared up at her with that freakishly cute, dimpled smile. She tore a cologne ad out and tossed the magazine down, then rubbed the woodsy, musk-scented ad on her uniform. Disposing of the ad, she headed out; it was time to go to the Vista Lounge and get lunch.
As she exited the superstructure's primary turbolift, Valens stepped up next to her, waling alongside her in lockstep. "Good morning, Commander," he said. "I was just on my way to the Vista Lounge for lunch." His thoughts echoed in her head. I wonder if he liked my care package, he laughed to himself. I bet he'll never guess how I got in.
Hearing his thoughts while trying to act as though she didn't felt awkward, especially as she was sorely tempted to smack that insouciant grin right off his face. At least he hadn't seen the Clone Commando flag, or if he had, he hadn't yet put two and two together. "Good morning, Ensign," she replied neutrally. "I trust your morning was productive?"
"Oh, very productive, sir," he chuckled. He'll never guess in a million years where I got those codes from.
His smugness was getting on her nerves. "I'm so pleased for you." She was so high, it was hard to concentrate.
"Smashball is going to be a good season this year," he said innocently. Let's see how he reacts to that!
"Oh?" she said, trying to keep the tension out of her voice. She had to remember that she was pretending to be a man—their reaction would be much different than that of a woman's. "I found the points spread a little distracting," she said.
He chuckled. "Yes, that sportscaster—"
"Former sportscaster."
"Yes, former sportscaster. She has a certain charm, doesn't she?" Give me an hour alone with Nahno Orteka, and she'd forget all about smashball, he thought to himself.
It was a struggle, but she managed not to roll her eyes at his ridiculous boasts. They passed through a wide corridor with broad, floor-to-ceiling windows lining its sides; the windows on the right looked into a large chamber with a swimming pool and several hot tubs on the deck below, and window on the left looked into a large gymnasium with a wide variety of exercise equipment and free weights being used by numerous out-of-uniform stormtroopers.
"Have you been to the pool, yet?" he asked. "The water is nice after a long week of work."
"Um, no. Swimming is not really my thing," she lied. She loved swimming, and missed the river behind her parents' farm, but she would never be able to use the pool aboard the Fury without revealing her true gender, no matter how much she wished she could've dove in.
"Really? Everyone likes swimming." What kind of person doesn't go swimming? He wondered.
"Not me."
"Oh, come now, Commander. You—"
"This is not open for discussion, Ensign." They came to another set of turbolifts, and she pressed the call button.
That was weird, Valens was thinking. "May I ask why?"
"No." She got in the turbolift.
"Well, then, will you at least invite me up for a drink?" he asked, getting in and pressing a button. No swimming, then. Just as long as I get a taste of that abrax. Damned thing cost me a fortune!
The turbolift door closed and they descended.
"That would imply I have something for you to drink in my quarters," she said. "Where would you have gotten an idea like that?"
What's his game? "Well, uh, you know," he stammered. "I just thought that, um, the box—"
She smiled inwardly at his discomfort and exited the turbolift. "What box? Did someone perhaps try sending me, oh, I don't know, some contraband liquor?"
He laughed nervously. "I, uh, wouldn't know, sir, but surely—"
"What?" she asked, continuing down the corridor. "Surely entering my quarters without my permission, breaking security protocols, being in unassigned areas, and insubordination might be ignored? I don't know. Seems like those are pretty serious offenses."
I knew I should've just waited! he cursed himself, suddenly experiencing a little fear. He followed her. "Intentions—"
"Are worthless," she said coldly. The abo had put her at risk with Nilas; he wasn't getting off the hook that easily.
They came out on the starboard side of the mag-lev platform, a large, open area with several other officers waiting along its edge. There were large openings on either side of the chamber that the rails passed through, leading to the freight tunnel that ran the length of the Star Destroyer. The Fury possessed a six-line rail system, with three lines for passengers and three lines for freight. The rail cars, passenger and cargo gondola alike, could switch between any of the six rails to go around stopped cars or stop at specific platforms, all coordinated by central computers.
The passenger cars had all the bland styling of the Imperial war machine: they were basically rectangular boxes of white with tapered ends that contained windows. Inside were four black jumpseats, a pair on either end with control interfaces built into the armrests.
She pressed the call button on a column near the edge of the platform, and minutes later, her car appeared.
As the car came to a stop in front of them, Valens looked around. "I, uh, think I'll catch the next one, sir." Maybe if I just leave him alone for a while—
She didn't let him finish his thought. "Get in, Ensign. That's an order."
The door popped open with hiss-thunk and slid to one side.
Aw, poodoo, he thought nervously. Obediently, he got in and sat on one side. He looked a little nauseous.
She got in and sat across from him, staring at him coldly while waiting for the door to close. When it did, she entered the destination, and the car took off with a whisper hum. "Now, let's get something straight, Ensign, while we can talk without being overheard," she said, leaning forward and putting an edge in her voice. "I am your commanding officer. If you think to curry favor with me by bribing me with contraband, you are gravely mistaken."
"Sir, it's not like that—"
"I am not finished!" she snapped. "Entering my quarters without my permission alone is enough to see you in the brig! This is nothing compared to entering a restricted area without proper clearance, possession of contraband, insubordination, breaking security protocols, and who knows what else!" she scoffed, shaking her head. "They would court-martial you and send you to Kessel!"
He paled, and all he thought about was trying to survive. His hands clenched the arm-rests so tightly his knuckles were turning white.
"Are you scared? Good. Maybe it will drive the lesson home," she laughed cruelly. "You're choobies are mine, Valens. I own you as long as you are on this ship, and if you ever pull a stunt like the again, I'll use my lightsaber to carve your heart out and have it for lunch! Do I make myself clear?"
He swallowed hard. "Yes, sir," he said weakly, debating whether it would be possible to transfer off the ship.
"And if you even think about filing for a transfer, I'll block it and ask Nilas to give me your hide for a rug!"
His eyes widened.
She sighed and sat back. "Relax, now, Valens," she said, continuing to stare at him, but not quite as intensely. "I'm not going to hang you out to dry, although you certainly deserve it for breaking into my quarters. Breathe before you pass out."
A flicker of hope rose in him as he breathed. "I'm sorry, sir."
"What, no trying to claim you have no idea what I'm talking about?"
He shrugged. "Why bother? I can't be in any more trouble than I already am."
"Got that right. What the hell were you thinking?" she asked. "I shouldn't have to tell you that Inquisitors aren't exactly a trusting lot, and Nilas is more paranoid than most! As Adjutant, I have to be just as paranoid to keep him from ascribing to my actions and interactions with the crew motives that aren't there, and what you did put me at serious risk."
"I'm sorry, sir," he repeated, shaking his head and leaning forward on his elbows. He looked down at his hands. Stang! I hadn't even considered that! "I just—"
"Had a dangerous lapse in judgment," she finished for him. She crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. The vibration of the electric motor in the car made her feel like she was flying. "One which I trust will not be repeated."
"Absolutely not, sir," he agreed wholeheartedly. If I have to be his flunky, so what? Maybe I can earn my way back into his good graces.
"Remember what I said," she warned, smiling inwardly at his hopefulness. Stang, he's a child! she mused. "I own you for the duration."
"Yes, sir," he said, sitting back. How much groveling am I going to have to do?
"You are, of course, to remain discrete and professional in all of our public interactions, and you will tell no one of this conversation, nor discuss the nature of our new partnership." She raised an eyebrow. "Do I make myself clear?"
"As transparisteel, sir."
The railcar glided to a stop and the door popped open.
She stepped out onto the platform. "Come along, ensign," she said. "I'm not finished with you."
Stang, this is going to be a long tour, he grumbled miserably as he followed her to the turbolifts.
"Don't pout. Your situation could be a lot worse," she chided, pressing the call button. "Besides, isn't this what you wanted?"
Oh, yes, a blaster to my head to enforce servitude, he thought bitterly. "Not exactly, sir."
"What, you though that you could just have all the benefits of being my unofficial aide-de-camp without any cost?" She scoffed, stepping into the turbolift. She pressed the button for Deck 34. "And really, what is the cost to you? A little more discretion? You act as though I've put some onerous burden upon you. I do expect, though, that anything I may eventually want will be free." The turbolift doors closed and they ascended.
Sounds like blackmail to me, he thought. Watch his "wants" be more abrax! That liquor cost me a small fortune, and I won't even get a taste. "Yes, sir."
Deciding that she'd let him suffer long enough, she said, "Nothing I want will be expensive or hard to come by, and if you behave appropriately, as a proper naval officer should, I may invite you up to share a glass of abrax with me. May."
Huh. Maybe this won't be so bad after all. "Understood, sir."
"Good. You can begin by telling me how you not only managed to access that deck, but how you managed to break into my quarters," she said, not looking over at him. "I don't think I need to remind you what Nilas would have done if he'd have caught you."
Valens paled and his eyes widened. "No, sir!"
"I'm giving you one chance to be honest with me, Ensign."
He sighed, rising up on the balls of his feet as he looked at the ceiling, then settled back down. He shifted his gaze to the deck. "I, uh, I know a few odd maintenance codes, sir," he explained. "Droids are sort of a hobby of mine."
That was interesting to her. She made a mental note of this as she was still mulling over getting herself an MSE droid for a hobby project. "Continue, Ensign."
Well, if he was going to throw me in the brig, I would already be there, he thought to himself, sighing. "I was down in one of the engineering bays the other day. I found an old R2 unit that had been scrapped, but its memory matrix was still intact. It must have been in charge of the maintenance droid pool because it still had the bypass codes in its memory."
The turbolift doors opened, revealing the corridor that lead to the Vista Lounge.
"See? That wasn't so hard, now, was it?" she asked, stepping out of the turbolift.
"So, I'm not in trouble?" he asked suspiciously, following her into the lounge.
"Not any more than you already were," she said. The view of hyperspace was amazing when she was high, and she had to actively focus to keep from zoning out on it. She felt like she was floating. "Besides, I like my aides to be resourceful and show a little initiative."
At the food prep area, she grabbed two roast bantha sandwiches and a cup of kaf and sat in the corner. Valens joined her with a bowl of stew and some bread, and a cup of kaf, too.
"I think I know what you can get me."
Here it comes, he thought, darting his eyes at her.
"A couple of issues of MechTech Illustrated. It's been awhile since I've seen them."
He smiled. "I never figured you for a gear-head, sir."
"There's a lot you don't know about me, Ensign."
Isn't that the truth? "Anything else?"
"Yes. Find me a scrapped MSE droid and a small heuristic processor. That will give me something to do with my free time."
"MSE droid? Why would you want one of those annoying things?" he asked, then added hastily, "Uh, sir!"
"Just get it for me."
After lunch, she headed for the bridge. Upon arrival, she could see the swirls of hyperspace through the window at the front and quickly looked away. Valens didn't so much as glance at her, though she could hear him thinking, Don't look, don't look, don't look, over and over.
There's the window I felt like I was going to float past, she thought and had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep the gales of laughter she felt bubbling up inside of her from getting out. Her body buzz was so strong that just walking normally quickly occupied her mind, though. She went to a door on the starboards side of the bridge.
Inside was a large conference room with a large doughnut-shaped tale in the center. In the middle of the table was a large holo-tac, a holoprojector capable of combining all the sensor data from the ship's sensors into a visual form. The table could seat twelve, and each place had a control interface for the holo-tac, which was also connected to the ship's holonet transceiver.
Inquisitor Nilas sat to the left, glaring up at the image of a Moff on the holo-tac. "His failure is your responsibility, Governor," he said quietly. "I want to know who ordered him to go after her, and I want to know why. I am the one in charge of that target's acquisition. Understood?"
"From what I understood, Lord Nilas, the apprentice was acting without permission. I had nothing to do with his actions, or whatever actions the Inquisitorius took or did not take here on Denon."
"Nonetheless, you are governor of Denon, and therefore, you will be held responsible. I'll not have Vader looking to me because that fugitive got away!"
The Moff was an older man with a thick white mustache and a fringe of graying hair. He appeared nervous, and his eyes held fear. "I didn't sign off on an apprehension order, my lord! I only turned over the information my informants presented to me, as is procedure. What the Inquisitorius does with that is out of my control."
"That is not how Vader will see it," Nilas said coldly. "Mark my words, Moff Laren. If she isn't still on Denon by the time I get there, I will see to your replacement! You are not to approach her at all, not even to follow her! Leave her to me!" He cut the link.
"Problems, Master?" she asked, not moving to sit down.
"An Inquisitor's apprentice went AWOL and acted outside of his orders," he growled. "He tried apprehending our quarry, and was killed for his efforts, presumably by her."
"So she's still at large?" She knew he was referring to the Twi'lek woman he was obsessed with finding.
He snorted disdainfully. "Of course! And when I find out which Inquisitor that apprentice belonged to, I'll be sure to point that out to Lord Vader. I will not hang for them!"
"How did she kill him? With a lightsaber?"
"One of the apprentice's own. And a vibroblade." He stood up and swept past her onto the bridge. If she escapes, I'll tie Laren to the outside of my shuttle and jump to hyperspace!
Startled that she had heard his thoughts, she followed Nilas. "We still have another two weeks before we reach Denon. Do you think she'll stay put?"
"I know she will. She has nowhere to go and no one to depend on." He laughed. "Moff Laren is not the only one who has his informants. Captain!" he called. "We are to proceed to Coruscant with all haste! No more leisuely travel!"
The Captain knew that Nilas was asking him to push the hyperdrive as hard as possible. "But—the hyperdrive isn't built to be used at full-capacity for so long a period!"
"Then you better hope it's durable enough to get us to Coruscant quickly!" he snarled. "You can thank Moff Laren in person when we get to Denon for our haste!"
She sighed. It was going to be a very long trip, she knew. Nilas would be harsher than ever in his training, and she had a feeling she would be the lightning rod for his anger. She stood at ease next to Nilas and stared into the swirls of hyperspace; the high soon obliterated any worry she had.
Yes, you will find out where her scar came from, and you will eventually learn the fate of her brother, and the details therein. Patience, please. I will get you there, have no fear. Also, I hope it was clear enough that the person Mika killed was not an Inquisitor, but an Inquisitor's apprentice. She is not that skilled with a lightsaber yet. It was a narrow thing that she escaped with her life at all.
Chapter Twelve will be soon, I promise.