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He watched as the girl leaned back into the walls of her cell, deposited back within its confines by a pair of Tarkin’s favorite troopers. They had been sufficiently rough with her. She looked bone-tired, weary of the quiet, and cold battle station air. A wisp of hair had escaped her neatly wound buns, resting on her brow, betraying her collected veneer. Still, she sat perfectly statuesque, reposed against the durasteel with inobtrusive dignity.
Vader swiveled away from the cameras, motioning for the guards behind him to follow. No, he wouldn’t leave the princess waiting any longer. If Tarkin’s empty threats hadn’t persuaded her, then he would demonstrate his own might. A self-righteous socialite of the Core would surely bend under his sway. A successful, swift interrogation – that’s what was required to resolve this pitiful issue and end the Rebellion for good.
When the door slid open, the Sith noticed that her stray hair had been replaced. Like she had expected him. She presented a haughty scowl. He could’ve laughed.
So stony and bold she tried to be, but the princess was no seasoned warrior. Her youthful features denied her any claim to experience. It was a shame, truly. She made a pretty sight with her round, rosy cheeks, and chestnut tresses. If it wasn’t for the defiant gleam in her eyes, she would appear little more than a darling teenage girl.
“And now, your highness, we will discuss the location of your hidden rebel base.”
He surged toward her mental barriers like an ocean wave, unstoppable power that would consume anything in its path. Closer, closer it moved until the crashing of waters deafened his signature. The wave receded against a wall, dripping off the surface like water droplets on steel. Confusion seized him, and he tried again. And again. Each time she deflected him as if it were nothing.
“Is this a staring contest?”
Her condescending tone slipped through his shock, as he searched for an explanation for this unforeseen obstacle. Rage replaced his bewilderment. He sensed the mild amusement of the two men behind him.
Like Sith hells would he let this brat make a mockery of him.
He did not think before his glove met her cheek with a decided crack. The girl took the blow almost gracefully, almost as if she had once again anticipated his move. She made no gesture toward the now glowing red bruise, only turned her head slowly back toward him with a daring glare. Something beyond her eyes, beyond the defiance, had awakened. And he knew exactly what it was.
The Force agreed.
“Guards, fetch the droid,” Vader demanded, “and when you return, you will leave us.”
Silence and the hissing of his respirator filled the void between them. Her gaze was unbroken, still she glowered. And still she seemed, outwardly, nothing more than a spoiled child. It was a strange disguise and made him wonder just how well the Rebellion had concealed this little secret.
No matter, they had perhaps delivered their own cloak-and-dagger weapon right into his lap.
When the door again opened, the girl reeled slightly in discomfort. It was reassuring to the Dark Lord to see that she could fear. The menacing orb floated into the room, hovering next to him as the guards disappeared beyond the threshold. He let a smile slip behind his mask.
Perhaps it would even be fun.
“What do you know of Bavo Six, Princess?”
The girl’s hardened tranquility returned, and she pitched her chin up at him, as if to roll her eyes or spit at him. She glanced at the droid for a moment before answering.
“It’s a mind-altering drug, intended to extract the truth by directing the user’s perceptions of reality through suggestion.”
She emitted the words as if she were reading from a textbook. It was that same arrogant cadence that she was so fond of.
“Then you are prepared for what you are about to undergo,” the Sith said plainly.
He snatched her arm, yanking the sleeve over her elbow. The rich softness of her young skin almost made him hesitate as he signaled for the droid to move toward her. The needle inched toward her flesh, it’s whooshing, whirring noise drowning out the paces of his respirator. His mask was mere inches from her eyes, and he noticed that she had fixated on his lenses intensely.
“Do your worst,” she snarled, as the drug entered her veins.
He held her, squeezing firmly on her arm as the Bavo Six flooded her nervous system. When her eyes began to lose focus, she blinked, fighting against the drug’s effects. Peculiar girl. She resisted even the un-resistible. A second later, something seemed to cave as her consciousness failed her.
“Your senses are heightened, Your Highness. Even the lightest of touch is agony.”
She attempted to pull away from his grasp, and surprised gasp slipped her lips. A ripple of pain overtook her. The princess rested her back against the wall and choked back another cry. The once reassuring presence of the durasteel now felt like a thousand sharp knives between her shoulder blades. She closed her eyes and set her jaw.
“Where are the rebels?”
The princess shook her head, so lightly that it was almost indiscernible. That wouldn’t do. The Sith tightened his grip on her arm, relishing in the shudder of air as she fought the anguish that wrought her senses.
“Perhaps I am not being clear – you will tell me the location of your hidden base.”
She gasped, taking in shallow breaths as she pried open her eyes.
“N-no,” she said weakly, fixing him once more with a resolute gaze.
Brown.
Her eyes were such a familiar shade. The sight of a sweet, gentle gaze flashed before the Sith’s mind. The bounce of soft curls, a lilting laugh, a whiff of a fragrance so warm, so inviting. He tossed off the memory. No, he wouldn’t be distracted by idle musings. And he hated her for reminding him.
He released his grip on her arm. This time he grabbed her jaw, making sure to press his fingers hard against the deepening bruise on her cheek. The princess released a muted whine and struggled against him. Her tenacity was remarkable, even in pain.
Vader’s thoughts urged him to lower his grasp to her neck, to force her cries out as she begged for oxygen. Some unconscious force resisted this instinct, and it angered him. Who was she to hold power over him? He released her.
The Sith was growing restless, and unamused by this course of events. She was a girl, after all. Women were rarely placed up for interrogation, and when they were, he often refused to oversee the proceedings. It made him…ill at ease. The wails of broken and breaking men were an exquisite symphony to his ears. But the women did not sob or beg. They endured and even when they finally acquiesced, they bore the agony. He had seen that strength too many times. In his mother, in her. It was even there as she dangled before him, silently imploring him.
No. This was far from enjoyable.
Hours passed as various implements singed and carved along her flesh. He touched her as little as possible, only suggesting upon her mind.
Just tell me, he thought. He tried to project the demand again but was once more balked by her mental shields.
She was strong. So gifted.
His curiosity waned as her presence began to fade. The limits of her body were dangerously close to fruition. The Sith propped her lolling head against his shoulder as he administered the dispersal shot. She began to rouse, slowly, painfully. Gingerly, he rested the girl on the cold bench of her cell and ordered a med droid.
Wordlessly, he departed.
+++++++
“You obtained nothing from her,” Tarkin observed flatly. The other officers in the room repressed their mirth as Lord Vader paced into the control room, defeated by the dainty aristocrat in question.
“Her resistance to the mind probe is considerable. It will be some time before we can extract any information from her.”
The governor eyed him skeptically. Vader intuited that the man before him had already premeditated a scheme to supersede his powers. Irritation crawled beneath his armor.
“Perhaps she would respond to an alternative form of persuasion.”
“What do you mean?” Vader asked, his vocoder failing to deliver his venomous sarcasm.
Tarkin gestured toward the viewport, where Alderaan gleamed blue and green. He was proud – too proud for the Sith’s liking.
“I think it is time we demonstrated the full power of this station,” Tarkin proclaimed.
“Meaningless threats are nothing to her. She will not be convinced.”
The man returned a vicious half smile to the Dark Lord, raising a calculated eyebrow in challenge.
“Lord Vader, I fully intend to destroy this planet if it will teach these rebels a lesson.”
“I do not agree.”
Tarkin sneered. He dismissed the other men, and they shuffled from the room quickly. He turned to the towering creature before him. The Grand Moff was a domineering man, unafraid of the miserable, battered remnants that comprised the Dark Lord of the Sith.
“If I didn’t know better, I would say that you’re rather keen on young brunette senators,” Tarkin speculated, “Perhaps your judgement is clouded.”
Vader stood silently, gripping the back of a chair in restraint. When he said nothing, the governor continued.
“Bring her to me in three hours’ time. And make sure she’s seen after. I want her pretty face intact.”
“Do you intend to harm her?” He was unsure of where the question came from. Or why the thought of it bothered him so.
Tarkin thought a moment before responding curtly, “Let our dear Princess Leia assume that we plan to terminate her life. It will be a delightful game. Rest assured, my friend. In the end, I do not desire to share her. You can put that out of your head.”
A peculiar rage ignited in the Sith.
Leia. That name. He couldn’t think it, couldn’t speak it. He repressed a memory, one that burst forth like the crashing waves of his mind probes.
Leia. It sang in the Force. The harmony all his own.
He rejected it, thrusted the possibility from his mind. Perhaps his judgement was clouded, as the Moff had perceived.
It wouldn’t be the first time, the darkest part of his psyche conjectured, that you saw something that wasn’t there.