A/N: Keep in mind life on the Death Star was pretty routine. So for this fanfic I obviously have to switch things up to make it interesting. I hope I deliver that while still keeping things within a realistic setting as Star Wars is a huge love of mine. So grab a cup of caf ️ and get cozy...

【Ｌｏｃａｔｉｏｎ：

ＤＳ－１ Ｏｒｂｉｔａｌ

Ｂａｔｔｌｅ Ｓｔａｔｉｏｎ

Ｗｅｓｔ ｓａｎｃｔｕｍ

Ｌｏｒｄ Ｖａｄｅｒｓ

Ｑｕａｒｔｅｒｓ】

IT FELT AS IF HER HEART REVERBERATED THROUGH THE SOLES upon each footfall. Through the labyrinthine halls of the DS-1 Orbital Battle Station, the contents in her stomach lurched as blood pulsed through her veins. Beads of perspiration broke through the pores in her skin after sprinting to her quarters to change and down another level.

Vented lights cast a sheen coat across the obsidian floors, drawing her in with a false sense of security from the softened glow. As the hum of machinery quieted in the distance the darkness encroached, leeching to the walls and drawing forth a chill that seeped into the threads of her shirt. Pebbling the skin, hairs on the back of her neck rose.

There was no doubt as to where she was.

It was if the epitome of the Sith was forged in the durasteel. With a hard swallow, she rounded a bend and came face to face with guards positioned by a wide-set door. With startling clarity, she realized these men were no average stormtroopers. Sleek bone-white armor with a high crest and T-shaped visors; a squadron rumored to have been phased out of the Empire. The original, legendary clone troopers born on Kamino.

Lord Vader's Fist Battalion:
The 1st or, the 501st.

His elite Legion.

Oh skang. Ba'jur Val Vader'ika... The statement flowed in her reclaimed tongue.

The clone trooper's stance raptly snapped to attention upon her entrance. "State your business." A gloved hand tensed on the holster securing a pistol blaster. A masculine raspy edge hinted at age and lilted on the "a".

Cobalt markings embellished their chest plate, one of which had a signified superior rank. Ayen steeled herself, the muscle in her jaw clenched as her employer mask slid into place, "Lieutenant Ayen. Imperial Technician from sub-hangar 1831, identification 0147. Here at the request of—your Supreme Commander."

The muscles in her neck became taut as a bow from the slip of formality. The superior trooper nodded to their adjacent partner, a crimson hand print on the shoulder plate that gleamed with a vivacity alarmingly to a gelatinous substance.

Blood.

A subtle nod from his second-in-command conveyed they'd profiled her into their memory bank.

For one nerve-wracking moment, she imagined them turning their lethal weapons on her. As she'd seen stormtroopers enact on Tatooine. However, since aboard she'd become familiars with a few and no longer viewed them as such a threat.

The 501st she was completely unfamiliar with.

The one who'd verbalized assumed a laxer stance, stepping aside as a distinct crackle of their mic resounded, "Affirmative. Permission granted. Lieutenant, proceed."

Automatically she was nudged forward, the door sliding open with an ominous hiss before sealing her in complete darkness. It took a good minute for her eyes to adjust. Lowly-set steel sconces drew shadows from their place illuminating an ostentatious... office. Obsidian furnishings blended with the dark ambiance, a high-backed leather chair reflecting a dominant leader's domain.

An expansive viewport ahead unveiled the vast galaxy. Cast in cold starlight, a hooded figure stood at the center, feet anchored in a wide-legged posture.

Lord Vader.

As if he'd sensed her arrival there was an imperceptible shift to his stance. Gloved hands neatly folded behind his back, as if bating the breadth of the galaxy on he, the Commander's next move.

"Did you think you could underestimate me?" His words came slow, yet with a deliberate bite educing a chill down her spine.

With her feet rooted to the ground, a quake of emotion rippled through the air. The space served as the only protective barrier between them as an internal battle waged inside. Did she feign awareness or submit to his unmistakable knowledge?

He knows... doesn't he?

"Don't," he sharply interceded just as her lips parted. "Don'tplay me for a fool, Lieutenant. You prefer honesty. I expect the same in return. Lest you prefer a more severe recourse, to loosen your tongue."

Her stomach plummeted, sending little shocks through the nerves in her fingertips. Either fess up or suffer at those hands. Underestimating the Sith Lord had been a massive gaffe. "I," she began with a lick of chapped lips, a spell of dry mouth, "I meant no harm truly my... Lord."

"Then explain why you covered for Officer DeGwaye in each of these reports."

Though Lord Vader exuded intimidation, Ayen couldn't allow herself to be cowed like his subordinates. She had earned her place here. Thus, a boldness surfaced, much like it had in the past, even as her heart raced erratically. Gathering the last vestiges of courage, she began, "Officer DeGwaye has made errors. But his superior education over mine has made me more proficient. When he taught me Aurebesh, it benefited you because my comprehension was not up to standards. I... could hardly read, even. He helped with that. Please," she continued, her breath shaky but her gaze steady as she lifted it. "I ask for the same mercy to be extended. As you showed to a lowly slave, my Lord."

"Tread carefully, Lieutenant." The thick tension could've been cut with a dulled blade, the tone in which he used bordered on a warning. "This situation is not alike. I do not so easily forgive copious infractions. Those of which you chose not to report."

"I meant no disrespect," she responded quickly, as she watched his broad form stiffen. "I accept full responsibility for my part. The officer's punishment I take as my own for my actions." With bated breath she waited for his response, fists clenched tightly at her sides.

Her teeth punctured the inside of her gum hard enough to sting as a metallic tang coated her tongue.

Slowly, his hooded visage peered over one shoulder, as if attuned to the smell of bloodshed. It was as if time held in suspension, his scorching gaze bearing down on her for the longest moments of her life. Finally, he spoke. "Repetitive patterns will not be tolerated. Sentimental drivel is a weakness I cannot have in my ranks. Nor should it cloud your judgment. Do I make myself clear, Lieutenant?"

"Of course, tha—"

Her words ceased as firm, leather-clad fingers encircled her neck. One by one.

How did he...?

Her thoughts trailed off as a cool breath dark as the shadows that breathed, rolled off the nape of her neck from behind, erecting every nerve ending like a livewire. The malleable atmosphere plunged visibly drawing out a vaporous breath as an echo of his malevolence. Ayen knew this debacle had—entirely—shifted in his favor.

His formidable presence seized her confidence as hands that wielded the power to crush a life force tightened inexorably. A whisper of lips barely grazed the shell of her ear as he gritted out,

"Kneel, Lieutenant."

His assertive baritone drawled out each syllable and elicited a shudder that amplified every sense. From every breath that parted his lips. The sharp hint of ozone emitting off the apparatus of equipment in the room. The flickering lights in sync with the volatile thrum of her pulse.

To placate the tight leash on his temperament, she squeezed her eyes shut. Angling her knees, her legs folded in as she lowered to the ground.

There was a subtle shift to his grip once she acquiesced to his dictation. "Loyalty is considered invaluable to a Master. Rarely is it found pure. But just as integral as obedience. So, tell me, Lieutenant," He emphasized the 'tuh'. "Will you yield to your Supreme Commander? Speak freely."

A loosed hair brushed the slope of her nose with a deliberated exhale of words, "My faction relies on my competence and my lead." She kept her voice even knowing he was testing her. "I'd never take my position for granted for what it affords me... my Lord. Every shipment prioritized is inspected thoroughly. Those found to have malfunctions are cargoed to us. Which is always rectified immediately before it leaves ourhangar. So, every report that crosses your desk is accurate."

"However, it does not absolve one of the consequential actions for those who fail me repeatedly, such as Officer DeGwaye," Vader declared firmly. "I expect my subordinates to be disciplined and accountable for their specific line of work." His grip tensed infinitesimally, his voice a storm as it dropped several degrees in response to her counterplea.

"Rise, Lieutenant."

Shakily, she rose from her place as she sensed him back away, relinquishing his grip. Suppressing the low ache in her throat, she regained her verticality, albeit slower than intended. Her teeth clenched as she braced herself for the posturing of his next words.

"I'll ask one more time, Lieutenant to yield," Vader reiterated, his voice carrying a weight of finality.

"My Lord," Turning to face the capricious Sith Lord, her hands raised as if to placate. "Please." Without question, he ordered for her submittance and she was quick to avert direct eye contact in order to press on, "I do not expect leniency. I was the foolish one. I covered for him in the reports. Me. This officer, while ignorant was recruited for his notable work on his home world and remains ever loyal to our cause, which is just as important, is it not?"

"It's a double-edged sword, loyalty." He surmised even as her fate hung precariously in the balance. "It can bind you to greatness or be the instrument of your downfall. Your technical prowess while harnessed, must remain within the confines of absolute obedience."

Warm, frustrated tears unexpectedly welled behind her eyes at the sense of urgency. Instinctively she knew this was her final window of chance or Ceru's life was over. "I will not fail you." Her next words trembled with hint of desperation, even before they formed on her lips, "Please just—spare him m-my Lord."

"You will learn the true meaning of discipline in the days to follow." He emphasized as his voice raised a sharp octave. "Either rise as an asset in the Empire. Or crumble under the weight of your failures."

She swallowed feeling the magnetism in his voice, both a punishment wrapped in a twisted form of guidance. "I understand, Lord Vader," She drew forward, even as her every breath remained tethered to his will, a sliver of vulnerability seeping into the cracks of her desperation. "But I beg you, please... consider my offer."

The weight of the reality settled in her chest like a feroncrete block. Moving forward her resilience would be tested, and every action observed under the eye of the Commander himself—which she'd endure, if it meant Ceru lived.

Abruptly the atmosphere lightened, nearly giving her whiplash as the loosened tension released the constricting hold on her nerves. The air had warmed with an ease to his stance that reminded her of a lothcat stretching out its stiff limbs.

"Very well," His words now less frigid, was all the affirmation that she needed. "Consider this a rare generosity not lightly granted."

Thank the stars, Ceru's going to live.

The relief was palpable a well of emotions swelling in her chest. As she fought to tamp it down, the index of a leather finger curled beneath her chin. "Do not mistake my generosity as a leniency. The next time I won't be so forgivable. Your conduct is still accounted for. Once your punishment has been decided I will call for you."

Within the dimly lit room she could decipher the angular curve of a jawline underneath the heavily draped cowl. However those eyes of molten amber centered her attention. As her's shone in relief, his implored to keep her focus, her wavering gaze a habitual struggle he was determined to rectify.

"Tah chayta," hebegan in a smooth tone, crossing from the realm of formality with a guttural shift, "nuqanchipka tuykuna sa konchee chiqap kallpa sa tarisqa'."

To embrace our shadows is where true strength is found...

The words rolled off his tongue with a distinct inflection that set her curiosity aflame. A native of Tatooine... ? The newfound knowledge was bridged to her from the causality, undeniably of one off the homeplanet.

Yet, he'd already pulled away before she could voice the revelation. After he'd just barely spared her friend, it would be a most unwise action.

However, therein lie an inquisitiveness when he'd freed her shackles. There was a mysterious allure the Sith held, even though she'd never crossed such a threshold to implore further. To even consider unraveling the enigma of the man before her...

Unbeknownst to her, it would bring her deeper into his web of influence.

Flourishing a single hand, the door flew open in cold dismissal. His words were laced with a severity he bidded as a parting. "Remember, failure is not an option, Lieutenant. Heed this only warning, wisely ."

A/N:

Aurebesh is the alphabet in Star Wars for Basic. Because Ayen was a slave she did not have an education. As such, many things she learned on her own which you will come to see. However, as explained her reading comprehension Ceru assisted with in improving.

Huttese had various different languages mixed when it came to creating the Huttese dialect, the main being Ben Burt the sound designer. George Lucas was also known to add his own dialogue for the language.