The Bride
About This Story:
This is the back-story of Nori, Rupert' mother, told mainly from the point of view of a fellow camp survivor named Gemma. This story has not been previously published on fanfiction.net
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Star Wars franchise or any of its characters. I have not been paid for any of the stories posted on FanFiction or elsewhere. What you read here are simply the products of my own imagination based on the universe created by George Lucas. Any characters not in the SW universe (e.g., Rupert, Nori, Gemma, etc.) are entirely my own.
Regular type set indicates the story from Luke's and Rupert's perspective. Italics indicates flashback, mostly Gemma's perspective.
Trigger Warning: This story contains scenes of rape, and explores the theme of women used as breeding stock rather than being seen as individuals and human beings. I have struggled a bit with my own Dark imaginings as I wrote it, but it is also, ultimately, a story of survival and friendship..
Log-Line:
Gemma, an inmate at one of Palpatine's breeding camps, befriends a Creature-Empath child named Nori, and the two struggle to survive through the Emperor's repeated rapes and abuse.
This is the back-story of Nori, Rupert' mother, told mainly from the point of view of a fellow camp survivor named Gemma. This story has not been previously published on fanfiction.net
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Star Wars franchise or any of its characters. I have not been paid for any of the stories posted on FanFiction or elsewhere. What you read here are simply the products of my own imagination based on the universe created by George Lucas. Any characters not in the SW universe (e.g., Rupert, Nori, Gemma, etc.) are entirely my own.
Regular type set indicates the story from Luke's and Rupert's perspective. Italics indicates flashback, mostly Gemma's perspective.
Trigger Warning: This story contains scenes of rape, and explores the theme of women used as breeding stock rather than being seen as individuals and human beings. I have struggled a bit with my own Dark imaginings as I wrote it, but it is also, ultimately, a story of survival and friendship..
Log-Line:
Gemma, an inmate at one of Palpatine's breeding camps, befriends a Creature-Empath child named Nori, and the two struggle to survive through the Emperor's repeated rapes and abuse.
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Chapter One—“Ashti”
Brenna had received a lead on one of the women who escaped from the breeding camp where the women had not been immediately killed. Her courier returned to Croyus Four with a message from the contact. She sent Luke and Rupert to investigate while she stayed on Croyus Four to take care of baby Han and attend to the needs of the fledgling Relief Center.
Luke and Rupert went to the appointed city on the planet Ramos, and waited at the appointed rendezvous point. Several shadowy hooded figures passed them on the street. One in particular passed them, and then passed them again. As he passed for the third time, a raspy voice whispered, “Follow me. But stay well back.”
They followed the figure at a distance. He—he appeared to be a male, and they were looking for a woman—led them through a maze of alleys. There was, Luke observed, something of a military bearing to his posture, but which side of the war he had been on, Luke couldn't say. Finally, they turned into an alley that stunk of rotting garbage and other refuse. But once Luke and Rupert had followed their mysterious contact into the darkest section of the alley, he seemed to have disappeared.
“Now what?” Rupert wondered quietly.
“We wait,” Luke told him.
It was an interminable time later when two slow-moving figures appeared at the mouth of the alley. One was the man who had led them here. He was helping the other, a hooded figure who moved at a shuffling pace, greatly favoring one leg. Luke and Rupert moved to meet them, but the man produced a blaster and leveled it at them.
Luke and Rupert stopped and raised their hands. “We mean you no harm,” Rupert said.
The hooded figure didn’t lower the weapon until the person he was escorting pushed his arm down. Then the shuffling figure took an unsteady step closer to Luke and Rupert, and they could see that it was a woman. She was the one they had come to see. Her face was still shrouded by the hood, a veil was stretched across the lower part of her face, and Luke could see that underneath the veil, a voice synthesizer affixed at her throat. The eyes that looked at them were wide and beautiful, despite the woman’s apparently advanced age.
When they had approached within feet of Luke and Rupert, the hooded and veiled woman looked up at her escort, and the synth-voice said, "Thank you, Com."
The man released her before looking pointedly at Luke and Rupert. Then he melted silently into the shadows.
“What do you want?” the synthesized voice said through the device at her throat, as a series of grunts and other sounds came from her mouth area.
“We’re looking for anyone who knows anything about a pregnant girl at Camp Quartus,” Luke said.
“We were all pregnant, at one time or another,” the synthesized voice said. "Which one do you mean?"
"We don't know her name," Rupert said.
“Who are you? Why do you want to know about this girl?”
Luke gestured to himself. “I’m Luke Skywalker." He started to gesture to Rupert. "This is—”
“Skywalker!” the synthesized voice exclaimed. One hand—a mechanical metal skeleton—reached up and unfastened the veil around the lower art of her face. She revealed a gash across her face where a mouth had once been. “It was a Skywalker lightsaber that did this to me!”
Rupert gasped, and Luke closed his eyes briefly at the sight of a horrible gash where the mouth should have been. It was a lightsaber burn. The wound had obliterated the woman's mouth and the lower part of her face.
The woman's hands, both spidery metal skeletons, let the one side of the veil drop, and reached up and pulled the hood back. “And this!”
The head was largely a bald mess of exposed charred bone, burn-scarred skin, and bits of skin with tufts of hair still clinging to it. One ear was completely missing. The other was mostly gone, with just a small stub remaining where it had once been.
“And this.” She held up her metallic skeleton hands with the spindle fingers to show her missing hands, replaced by mechanics. Then she slowly turned her back to them and lowered the top of her cloak so that they could see the burn scars that extended downward into clothing that covered the remainder of the scars. “And that.” She turned back around to face them, and pulled her cloak up again. “And more,” the synthesized voice said.
“I’m…sorry for what happened to you,” Luke managed to say. “But that wasn’t me.”
“Who was Anakin Skywalker to you, then?”
“Before he became Darth Vader, Anakin Skywalker was my father.”
The woman grunted and drew her hood back up, hiding the ugly head, and refastened the veil.
But her eyes remained visible. The eyes that were so beautiful.
“Oh, yes!” the synthesized voice cackled, noticing Luke’s gaze. “I was once considered a real beauty!” She held her hands out, studying the mechanical projections that served as fingers. “And a gifted musician! And a singer with a voice to rival angels!” She dropped her hands back to her sides. “No longer, I’m afraid.”
“Please,” Rupert said, “Will you tell us what you know? The person we’re most interested in was young, a teenage mother. Maybe fourteen in standard. Maybe a bit more, or less. She gave up her child on Deraan Two.”
“What is it to you?” the scarred woman wanted to know. "Why are you so interested in this...teenager?"
“We think…she was my mother.”
There was a grunt that the voice synthesizer could not translate. Then the speech synthesizer said, over other throat grunts. “Your mother?” The volume increased in the word ‘mother’ to show emphasis. “If any female made pregnant at Camp Quartus was your mother—do you have any idea who your father was?”
Rupert drew in a shaky breath. “I know,” he said. “That’s why it’s so important for me to find out who my mother was. So I’ll know…what she was like, and know that I also came from someone besides the Emperor. Look—” he produced a small purse and opened it to show her that it was filled with coins--credits that were good anywhere. “I’ll pay you for whatever information you can share.”
The woman took the purse Rupert offered and held it out to her side without taking her eyes off Rupert and Luke. Her companion, the male, rushed up from the shadows and took the purse, and then disappeared again down the mouth of the alley.
When he was gone, the woman’s beautiful eyes crinkled. “There goes your money.”
“We can pay you in other ways. Medical treatments. Skin grafts. Prosthetics. You could get your voice back--at least to the point of no longer needing the synthesizer. Maybe play your music again.”
“That life is gone. There is no returning to it. There is only…this.” She gestured a spindle-hand towards her head, and then the rest of herself. "And this. Since I must live in the shadows, it hardly matters what I look like, or sound like.."
“You don’t have to live in the shadows any more. There’s no one coming after you now.”
“You did,” the synthesized voice pointed out.
“We mean you no harm,” Luke assured her. “The one who was after you before—Etan Lippa—is dead now.”
“Please,” Rupert begged, “won’t you tell us what you know?”
She paused. “I believe that the one you seek is dead.”
“She is. But…I want to know more about her. Who was she? I don’t even know her name. What was she like?”
The woman’s beautiful eyes looked at Rupert for a long moment, then moved on to study Luke. The eyes studied Luke’s face, then moved down to his belt, saw his lightsaber. She looked back up at his face. “Your weapon,” she said in her grunting synthesized voice. “Give it to me.” She held a spindle hand out to him.
Luke’s brows raised, but he unhooked his lightsaber and laid it across the spidery metal quills that served the woman as fingers.
Rupert tensed, moved his hand to near his own weapon, ready to defend his teacher. But Luke gave a subtle wave of his hand to tell him to leave off, and waited.
With her other skeleton-hand, the woman again undid the veil across her grotesque face. She then raised the weapon to one of the few relatively undamaged areas of her face, a cheek next to her extraordinarily beautiful eyes, Based on the creamy texture of that small patch of skin, she must once have been very beautiful--before the lightsaber attack..
She closed her eyes.
Luke smiled as he realized what she was doing. "She's a Reader," he informed Rupert quietly. "Psychokinetic. She gets information by touching objects that hold some special significance to its owner."
Rupert nodded, and watched her.
After several long minutes, the woman opened her eyes again and returned the weapon to Luke, who hooked it back on his belt. Then she held out her metal spider hand to Rupert. “Now yours,” the speech-box said, translating the grunts that came from her mouth area.
Rupert unfastened his lightsaber and handed it to her, and she repeated the process of raising it to her face and closing her eyes. After a moment, her eyes opened and widened in surprise. “This was Yoda’s!” the synthesizer translated from her grunts..
Luke smiled. “Yes. Did you know him?”
“Not well. I was very young in those days.” She returned the lightsaber to Rupert. “Well.” her synthe-voice said. “This is a day for surprises. Perhaps I can tell you a little something, after all. Not much. But a little.” She refastened her face veil.
“Please!”
The beautiful eyes regarded Rupert. “You were the product of rape. Are you certain you want to hear this?”
“Yes. Whatever you can tell me! Anything you can tell me!”
The woman seemed to lose her balance momentarily. Luke reached one hand out towards to help steady her, but thought the better of it when she drew back slightly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman's escort--"Com," as she had called him--start to emerge from the shadows before the woman made a slight gesture with one of her spindle fingers, and he withdrew into the shadows again. So he hadn't completely disappeared once he'd collected the purse of credits.
“I realize this is probably very difficult for you,” Luke said. “But all Rupert knows of his biological mother is that she was some nameless teenage girl found on Deraan Two. I had a hard time of it when I learned that Darth Vader was my father. Think how much harder it would be for someone who recently learned that his father was Emperor Palpatine! Rupert may have been conceived in hate, but he was raised in love, and I have no doubt he’ll stay on that path. But it might ease his way a bit to know that the other half of his genetic parentage wasn’t as vile and evil as his genetic father. And even if she was, which I very much doubt, it would be better to know the truth of the matter and deal with it with the support of friends and family than to make himself crazy wondering whether if he might potentially turn out to be as bad or worse than his…sperm donor.”
The woman looked back towards the mouth of the alley, where her male companion waited in the shadows.
“I will stay for a while.” The synthesized voice called out to her companion. "I will need to sit."
The man emerged from the shadows with a crate that he upturned, and then he helped the woman onto it. He did his best to see that she was as comfortable as could be managed in the dim alley, then disappeared again back into the shadows.
“He seems devoted to you,” Luke noted.
“He has his uses.” There was a trace of humor that permeated the voice through the synthesizer.
“Tell us about the girl,” Rupert begged. “Please.”
“Before you do,” Luke said, “Tell us your name. What do we call you?”
There was a tilt of the head and a lifting of one shoulder that seemed like a shrug. “My name is Ashti. The girl’s name was Nori.”
“Was she a Creature-Empath?”
The beautiful eyes registered surprise. “Yes. The daughter of Ter Lin and his wife. Have you heard of Ter Lin?”
“Yes,” Luke replied. “A Jedi Knight named Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ben Kenobi, found the remains of his home in a burned-out forest. There were some human remains found, two men and a woman, otherwise unidentifiable, and evidence that there had been a child living there, but no sign of the child. Originally presumed killed, but we now know she was captured. Ben told Yoda, and Yoda told me.”
“Nori was that child,” Ashti said. “And some of those remains belonged to my husband.”
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded.
“Your husband was a Creature-Empath then?”
“Yes. I was with my husband and Ter Lin and his family when Darth Vader came with his army. I was taken prisoner and brought to the camp. Nori escaped—for a time. A frightened young child hiding alone in the forest. Eventually, she too was captured and taken to the camp. Everyone else was killed.”
“I’m sorry,” Luke said again.
“Long ago, now. Ancient history.” Ashti looked at Rupert. “Are you a Creature?”
“Yes.”
“Trained?”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
Some…by Luke, here. The rest by my mate.”
Ashti’s eyes crinkled. “So you know the secret, then?”
“Yes.”
“Nori was trained to a point by her parents, as much as a young child could be trained, before she was captured. But the camp was largely sterile. She missed the creatures.”
Rupert sat forward. “What was she like?”
“Nori…was a child. A sweet innocent child who was little more than a baby when she was brought to the depths of Hell by a monster. She should never have been in that camp. None of us should have been!”
“None of you,” Luke agreed.
“Nori was…brought to the camp at a very young age, cared for by all the women, and raped by the Emperor as soon as she was barely old enough to breed. She was the youngest among us, but our sister, just the same.”
“Your sister?”
The old woman raised the skirt of her left leg to her hip. She gestured for Luke and Rupert to look at it. “If you bore the mark of the Emperor, you were our sister.”
Rupert pulled back. “The…medical report on my mother—Nori—said that she had an extensive months-old burn injury to her left leg. It was speculated that she’d been in some sort of accident. Fell onto a hot power core or something.”
“These were no accidents. Some marks were larger and deeper, some smaller, more shallow. Depending on how severely the Emperor wanted to punish you. But he didn’t call it punishment. He called it ‘protection.’ Protection!”
“He must have wanted to punish you pretty badly,” Luke commented
The head-tilt and one shoulder shrug again. “I was trouble.”
“Was Nori also…trouble?” Rupert asked.
“How could one so young be ‘trouble’?” Ashti said. “But yes. She was punished. Her mark was longer, and deeper, than any other. Even mine.”
“Why was she punished?”
“She...disappointed the Emperor."
“How?”
"Does it matter? He hardly needed a reason to punish us. Our purpose was to satisfy his appetite, and provide a potential heir. That was all." Ashti spread her arms, with her spindle-fingers spread outward in a gesture of having nothing else to offer. “That is as much as I can tell you. Your mother, our sister, was still just a child when she birthed you, not yet fully a woman. An abused, brutalized child who chose to love her sisters more than the Emperor who thought to make himself her mate.”
“He wasn’t, then? Wasn’t her mate?”
Ashti shook her head. “That’s not a story I can tell.”
“You don’t know?”
“I know. But I made a promise to a sister never to tell, and I will not break a promise made to a sister."
"I really need to know," Rupert pleaded.
Ashti sighed. "I've told you as much as I can. Nori's story is entwined with that of another of my sisters. If you can find my sister, you can ask her to tell you her story herself. I doubt she will, but if you can find her, you can ask.”
“How do we find her?”
“Go to the planet Hegarth, and search the slums on the east side of Georgiana City. There, you may find someone who can tell you more about Nori than I can. Someone who was closer to Nori than any other. But she may not even be alive, any more. And if she is, she may not even be there. And if she is alive and still there, she may not wish to talk to you. I haven’t so much as talked to her in a lifetime.” She looked at Rupert. “Yours.”
“We need more information than that,” Luke said. “A name. Something!”
“I knew her as Gemma. Gem. Whether she still calls herself that now, or goes by some other name, is anybody’s guess. If she is still there, if she is still alive, she may not want the old memories brought up again. Those of us who survived would all like to be able to forget about that time. But of course—” she gestured towards her face area with a spindly hand “—how could we?”
“Gemma’s like you?” Rupert asked.
“Not as visibly scarred as me. But she is deeply scarred just the same. We all were. It's just...not all scars are as visible to the eye as mine are. And that is truly all that I can tell you."
She rose, and her companion, Com, hurried out of the shadows to take her arm to help her. But before they walked away, Ashti looked back at Luke and Rupert. "A piece of advice?”
“Yes?” Luke asked.
“Don’t…attempt to touch Gemma. If you find her—and it’s much more likely that you won’t—do not touch her. Or your quest will come to nothing. Her aversion to touch may help you find her, but it may also lose her to you entirely.” She tilted her head to regard Rupert. “On the other hand, as you are Nori’s son, there is a very slim chance that she may be willing to talk to you, perhaps even to touch you. If that should happen, I would rejoice to know that she has connected with another human being at long last.”
Rupert nodded. “Thank you. My offer for…medical assistance and any other type of assistance I can render stands.”
“This is who I am, now. What I once was…is irretrievable.”
She started to turn and shuffle away. Luke realized now that she was favoring her left leg where the deep burn mark was, and putting nearly all her weight on her right leg.
“Wait—” Rupert called.
She turned back, and those beautiful eyes regarded him expectantly.
Rupert looked at his companion. “Luke, do you have anything more you can give her?”
Luke reached inside his cloak and produced his own purse, filled as Rupert’s had been. He handed it to Rupert, who held it out to the woman. She took it from him and passed it to her companion, who tucked it away.inside the folds of his cloak.
“If we want to find you again, how do we do it?” Rupert asked.
The woman shrugged. “Go back to where you met your guide today. Ask for the ugly scarred hag with the beautiful eyes. That will be enough to find me.”
“Not ask for ‘Ashti’ by name?”
“No one around here knows me by that name. They know me only as an ugly, scarred hag.”
She turned, took some shuffling steps towards the mouth of the alley, then stopped and said, “You are certain no one is looking for me or the others any longer?”
“Certain,” Luke said. “Only us.”
She nodded, then turned to shuffle away again, but Rupert ran up to her. Her eyes registered brief alarm, but Rupert only grasped one of the spindly metal hands in gratitude. “Thank you,” he said, with heartfelt thanks.
She carefully pulled her metal spindles out of his warm human hand, and then the cold metal fingers touched his cheek briefly. “You’re welcome. But given who you are, who your father is, it would take a Jedi Knight to overcome that.”
Behind Rupert, Luke gave her a salute that only another Jedi would recognize.
Those beautiful eyes widened momentarily. And then the mechanical hand rose to her forehead and returned the salute. She turned away again, and she and her mysterious male companion disappeared into the shadows.
Brenna had received a lead on one of the women who escaped from the breeding camp where the women had not been immediately killed. Her courier returned to Croyus Four with a message from the contact. She sent Luke and Rupert to investigate while she stayed on Croyus Four to take care of baby Han and attend to the needs of the fledgling Relief Center.
Luke and Rupert went to the appointed city on the planet Ramos, and waited at the appointed rendezvous point. Several shadowy hooded figures passed them on the street. One in particular passed them, and then passed them again. As he passed for the third time, a raspy voice whispered, “Follow me. But stay well back.”
They followed the figure at a distance. He—he appeared to be a male, and they were looking for a woman—led them through a maze of alleys. There was, Luke observed, something of a military bearing to his posture, but which side of the war he had been on, Luke couldn't say. Finally, they turned into an alley that stunk of rotting garbage and other refuse. But once Luke and Rupert had followed their mysterious contact into the darkest section of the alley, he seemed to have disappeared.
“Now what?” Rupert wondered quietly.
“We wait,” Luke told him.
It was an interminable time later when two slow-moving figures appeared at the mouth of the alley. One was the man who had led them here. He was helping the other, a hooded figure who moved at a shuffling pace, greatly favoring one leg. Luke and Rupert moved to meet them, but the man produced a blaster and leveled it at them.
Luke and Rupert stopped and raised their hands. “We mean you no harm,” Rupert said.
The hooded figure didn’t lower the weapon until the person he was escorting pushed his arm down. Then the shuffling figure took an unsteady step closer to Luke and Rupert, and they could see that it was a woman. She was the one they had come to see. Her face was still shrouded by the hood, a veil was stretched across the lower part of her face, and Luke could see that underneath the veil, a voice synthesizer affixed at her throat. The eyes that looked at them were wide and beautiful, despite the woman’s apparently advanced age.
When they had approached within feet of Luke and Rupert, the hooded and veiled woman looked up at her escort, and the synth-voice said, "Thank you, Com."
The man released her before looking pointedly at Luke and Rupert. Then he melted silently into the shadows.
“What do you want?” the synthesized voice said through the device at her throat, as a series of grunts and other sounds came from her mouth area.
“We’re looking for anyone who knows anything about a pregnant girl at Camp Quartus,” Luke said.
“We were all pregnant, at one time or another,” the synthesized voice said. "Which one do you mean?"
"We don't know her name," Rupert said.
“Who are you? Why do you want to know about this girl?”
Luke gestured to himself. “I’m Luke Skywalker." He started to gesture to Rupert. "This is—”
“Skywalker!” the synthesized voice exclaimed. One hand—a mechanical metal skeleton—reached up and unfastened the veil around the lower art of her face. She revealed a gash across her face where a mouth had once been. “It was a Skywalker lightsaber that did this to me!”
Rupert gasped, and Luke closed his eyes briefly at the sight of a horrible gash where the mouth should have been. It was a lightsaber burn. The wound had obliterated the woman's mouth and the lower part of her face.
The woman's hands, both spidery metal skeletons, let the one side of the veil drop, and reached up and pulled the hood back. “And this!”
The head was largely a bald mess of exposed charred bone, burn-scarred skin, and bits of skin with tufts of hair still clinging to it. One ear was completely missing. The other was mostly gone, with just a small stub remaining where it had once been.
“And this.” She held up her metallic skeleton hands with the spindle fingers to show her missing hands, replaced by mechanics. Then she slowly turned her back to them and lowered the top of her cloak so that they could see the burn scars that extended downward into clothing that covered the remainder of the scars. “And that.” She turned back around to face them, and pulled her cloak up again. “And more,” the synthesized voice said.
“I’m…sorry for what happened to you,” Luke managed to say. “But that wasn’t me.”
“Who was Anakin Skywalker to you, then?”
“Before he became Darth Vader, Anakin Skywalker was my father.”
The woman grunted and drew her hood back up, hiding the ugly head, and refastened the veil.
But her eyes remained visible. The eyes that were so beautiful.
“Oh, yes!” the synthesized voice cackled, noticing Luke’s gaze. “I was once considered a real beauty!” She held her hands out, studying the mechanical projections that served as fingers. “And a gifted musician! And a singer with a voice to rival angels!” She dropped her hands back to her sides. “No longer, I’m afraid.”
“Please,” Rupert said, “Will you tell us what you know? The person we’re most interested in was young, a teenage mother. Maybe fourteen in standard. Maybe a bit more, or less. She gave up her child on Deraan Two.”
“What is it to you?” the scarred woman wanted to know. "Why are you so interested in this...teenager?"
“We think…she was my mother.”
There was a grunt that the voice synthesizer could not translate. Then the speech synthesizer said, over other throat grunts. “Your mother?” The volume increased in the word ‘mother’ to show emphasis. “If any female made pregnant at Camp Quartus was your mother—do you have any idea who your father was?”
Rupert drew in a shaky breath. “I know,” he said. “That’s why it’s so important for me to find out who my mother was. So I’ll know…what she was like, and know that I also came from someone besides the Emperor. Look—” he produced a small purse and opened it to show her that it was filled with coins--credits that were good anywhere. “I’ll pay you for whatever information you can share.”
The woman took the purse Rupert offered and held it out to her side without taking her eyes off Rupert and Luke. Her companion, the male, rushed up from the shadows and took the purse, and then disappeared again down the mouth of the alley.
When he was gone, the woman’s beautiful eyes crinkled. “There goes your money.”
“We can pay you in other ways. Medical treatments. Skin grafts. Prosthetics. You could get your voice back--at least to the point of no longer needing the synthesizer. Maybe play your music again.”
“That life is gone. There is no returning to it. There is only…this.” She gestured a spindle-hand towards her head, and then the rest of herself. "And this. Since I must live in the shadows, it hardly matters what I look like, or sound like.."
“You don’t have to live in the shadows any more. There’s no one coming after you now.”
“You did,” the synthesized voice pointed out.
“We mean you no harm,” Luke assured her. “The one who was after you before—Etan Lippa—is dead now.”
“Please,” Rupert begged, “won’t you tell us what you know?”
She paused. “I believe that the one you seek is dead.”
“She is. But…I want to know more about her. Who was she? I don’t even know her name. What was she like?”
The woman’s beautiful eyes looked at Rupert for a long moment, then moved on to study Luke. The eyes studied Luke’s face, then moved down to his belt, saw his lightsaber. She looked back up at his face. “Your weapon,” she said in her grunting synthesized voice. “Give it to me.” She held a spindle hand out to him.
Luke’s brows raised, but he unhooked his lightsaber and laid it across the spidery metal quills that served the woman as fingers.
Rupert tensed, moved his hand to near his own weapon, ready to defend his teacher. But Luke gave a subtle wave of his hand to tell him to leave off, and waited.
With her other skeleton-hand, the woman again undid the veil across her grotesque face. She then raised the weapon to one of the few relatively undamaged areas of her face, a cheek next to her extraordinarily beautiful eyes, Based on the creamy texture of that small patch of skin, she must once have been very beautiful--before the lightsaber attack..
She closed her eyes.
Luke smiled as he realized what she was doing. "She's a Reader," he informed Rupert quietly. "Psychokinetic. She gets information by touching objects that hold some special significance to its owner."
Rupert nodded, and watched her.
After several long minutes, the woman opened her eyes again and returned the weapon to Luke, who hooked it back on his belt. Then she held out her metal spider hand to Rupert. “Now yours,” the speech-box said, translating the grunts that came from her mouth area.
Rupert unfastened his lightsaber and handed it to her, and she repeated the process of raising it to her face and closing her eyes. After a moment, her eyes opened and widened in surprise. “This was Yoda’s!” the synthesizer translated from her grunts..
Luke smiled. “Yes. Did you know him?”
“Not well. I was very young in those days.” She returned the lightsaber to Rupert. “Well.” her synthe-voice said. “This is a day for surprises. Perhaps I can tell you a little something, after all. Not much. But a little.” She refastened her face veil.
“Please!”
The beautiful eyes regarded Rupert. “You were the product of rape. Are you certain you want to hear this?”
“Yes. Whatever you can tell me! Anything you can tell me!”
The woman seemed to lose her balance momentarily. Luke reached one hand out towards to help steady her, but thought the better of it when she drew back slightly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman's escort--"Com," as she had called him--start to emerge from the shadows before the woman made a slight gesture with one of her spindle fingers, and he withdrew into the shadows again. So he hadn't completely disappeared once he'd collected the purse of credits.
“I realize this is probably very difficult for you,” Luke said. “But all Rupert knows of his biological mother is that she was some nameless teenage girl found on Deraan Two. I had a hard time of it when I learned that Darth Vader was my father. Think how much harder it would be for someone who recently learned that his father was Emperor Palpatine! Rupert may have been conceived in hate, but he was raised in love, and I have no doubt he’ll stay on that path. But it might ease his way a bit to know that the other half of his genetic parentage wasn’t as vile and evil as his genetic father. And even if she was, which I very much doubt, it would be better to know the truth of the matter and deal with it with the support of friends and family than to make himself crazy wondering whether if he might potentially turn out to be as bad or worse than his…sperm donor.”
The woman looked back towards the mouth of the alley, where her male companion waited in the shadows.
“I will stay for a while.” The synthesized voice called out to her companion. "I will need to sit."
The man emerged from the shadows with a crate that he upturned, and then he helped the woman onto it. He did his best to see that she was as comfortable as could be managed in the dim alley, then disappeared again back into the shadows.
“He seems devoted to you,” Luke noted.
“He has his uses.” There was a trace of humor that permeated the voice through the synthesizer.
“Tell us about the girl,” Rupert begged. “Please.”
“Before you do,” Luke said, “Tell us your name. What do we call you?”
There was a tilt of the head and a lifting of one shoulder that seemed like a shrug. “My name is Ashti. The girl’s name was Nori.”
“Was she a Creature-Empath?”
The beautiful eyes registered surprise. “Yes. The daughter of Ter Lin and his wife. Have you heard of Ter Lin?”
“Yes,” Luke replied. “A Jedi Knight named Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ben Kenobi, found the remains of his home in a burned-out forest. There were some human remains found, two men and a woman, otherwise unidentifiable, and evidence that there had been a child living there, but no sign of the child. Originally presumed killed, but we now know she was captured. Ben told Yoda, and Yoda told me.”
“Nori was that child,” Ashti said. “And some of those remains belonged to my husband.”
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded.
“Your husband was a Creature-Empath then?”
“Yes. I was with my husband and Ter Lin and his family when Darth Vader came with his army. I was taken prisoner and brought to the camp. Nori escaped—for a time. A frightened young child hiding alone in the forest. Eventually, she too was captured and taken to the camp. Everyone else was killed.”
“I’m sorry,” Luke said again.
“Long ago, now. Ancient history.” Ashti looked at Rupert. “Are you a Creature?”
“Yes.”
“Trained?”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
Some…by Luke, here. The rest by my mate.”
Ashti’s eyes crinkled. “So you know the secret, then?”
“Yes.”
“Nori was trained to a point by her parents, as much as a young child could be trained, before she was captured. But the camp was largely sterile. She missed the creatures.”
Rupert sat forward. “What was she like?”
“Nori…was a child. A sweet innocent child who was little more than a baby when she was brought to the depths of Hell by a monster. She should never have been in that camp. None of us should have been!”
“None of you,” Luke agreed.
“Nori was…brought to the camp at a very young age, cared for by all the women, and raped by the Emperor as soon as she was barely old enough to breed. She was the youngest among us, but our sister, just the same.”
“Your sister?”
The old woman raised the skirt of her left leg to her hip. She gestured for Luke and Rupert to look at it. “If you bore the mark of the Emperor, you were our sister.”
Rupert pulled back. “The…medical report on my mother—Nori—said that she had an extensive months-old burn injury to her left leg. It was speculated that she’d been in some sort of accident. Fell onto a hot power core or something.”
“These were no accidents. Some marks were larger and deeper, some smaller, more shallow. Depending on how severely the Emperor wanted to punish you. But he didn’t call it punishment. He called it ‘protection.’ Protection!”
“He must have wanted to punish you pretty badly,” Luke commented
The head-tilt and one shoulder shrug again. “I was trouble.”
“Was Nori also…trouble?” Rupert asked.
“How could one so young be ‘trouble’?” Ashti said. “But yes. She was punished. Her mark was longer, and deeper, than any other. Even mine.”
“Why was she punished?”
“She...disappointed the Emperor."
“How?”
"Does it matter? He hardly needed a reason to punish us. Our purpose was to satisfy his appetite, and provide a potential heir. That was all." Ashti spread her arms, with her spindle-fingers spread outward in a gesture of having nothing else to offer. “That is as much as I can tell you. Your mother, our sister, was still just a child when she birthed you, not yet fully a woman. An abused, brutalized child who chose to love her sisters more than the Emperor who thought to make himself her mate.”
“He wasn’t, then? Wasn’t her mate?”
Ashti shook her head. “That’s not a story I can tell.”
“You don’t know?”
“I know. But I made a promise to a sister never to tell, and I will not break a promise made to a sister."
"I really need to know," Rupert pleaded.
Ashti sighed. "I've told you as much as I can. Nori's story is entwined with that of another of my sisters. If you can find my sister, you can ask her to tell you her story herself. I doubt she will, but if you can find her, you can ask.”
“How do we find her?”
“Go to the planet Hegarth, and search the slums on the east side of Georgiana City. There, you may find someone who can tell you more about Nori than I can. Someone who was closer to Nori than any other. But she may not even be alive, any more. And if she is, she may not even be there. And if she is alive and still there, she may not wish to talk to you. I haven’t so much as talked to her in a lifetime.” She looked at Rupert. “Yours.”
“We need more information than that,” Luke said. “A name. Something!”
“I knew her as Gemma. Gem. Whether she still calls herself that now, or goes by some other name, is anybody’s guess. If she is still there, if she is still alive, she may not want the old memories brought up again. Those of us who survived would all like to be able to forget about that time. But of course—” she gestured towards her face area with a spindly hand “—how could we?”
“Gemma’s like you?” Rupert asked.
“Not as visibly scarred as me. But she is deeply scarred just the same. We all were. It's just...not all scars are as visible to the eye as mine are. And that is truly all that I can tell you."
She rose, and her companion, Com, hurried out of the shadows to take her arm to help her. But before they walked away, Ashti looked back at Luke and Rupert. "A piece of advice?”
“Yes?” Luke asked.
“Don’t…attempt to touch Gemma. If you find her—and it’s much more likely that you won’t—do not touch her. Or your quest will come to nothing. Her aversion to touch may help you find her, but it may also lose her to you entirely.” She tilted her head to regard Rupert. “On the other hand, as you are Nori’s son, there is a very slim chance that she may be willing to talk to you, perhaps even to touch you. If that should happen, I would rejoice to know that she has connected with another human being at long last.”
Rupert nodded. “Thank you. My offer for…medical assistance and any other type of assistance I can render stands.”
“This is who I am, now. What I once was…is irretrievable.”
She started to turn and shuffle away. Luke realized now that she was favoring her left leg where the deep burn mark was, and putting nearly all her weight on her right leg.
“Wait—” Rupert called.
She turned back, and those beautiful eyes regarded him expectantly.
Rupert looked at his companion. “Luke, do you have anything more you can give her?”
Luke reached inside his cloak and produced his own purse, filled as Rupert’s had been. He handed it to Rupert, who held it out to the woman. She took it from him and passed it to her companion, who tucked it away.inside the folds of his cloak.
“If we want to find you again, how do we do it?” Rupert asked.
The woman shrugged. “Go back to where you met your guide today. Ask for the ugly scarred hag with the beautiful eyes. That will be enough to find me.”
“Not ask for ‘Ashti’ by name?”
“No one around here knows me by that name. They know me only as an ugly, scarred hag.”
She turned, took some shuffling steps towards the mouth of the alley, then stopped and said, “You are certain no one is looking for me or the others any longer?”
“Certain,” Luke said. “Only us.”
She nodded, then turned to shuffle away again, but Rupert ran up to her. Her eyes registered brief alarm, but Rupert only grasped one of the spindly metal hands in gratitude. “Thank you,” he said, with heartfelt thanks.
She carefully pulled her metal spindles out of his warm human hand, and then the cold metal fingers touched his cheek briefly. “You’re welcome. But given who you are, who your father is, it would take a Jedi Knight to overcome that.”
Behind Rupert, Luke gave her a salute that only another Jedi would recognize.
Those beautiful eyes widened momentarily. And then the mechanical hand rose to her forehead and returned the salute. She turned away again, and she and her mysterious male companion disappeared into the shadows.
-----
Chapter Two--"Aviva"
Luke and Rupert went to Hegarth, to Georgiana City, to the slums on the east side, and spent days, weeks, searching the slums for someone named “Gemma,” to no avail.
They had put up notices and advertisements wherever they could, and had offered a substantial reward for any information that would lead them to her. But there were no responses.
They wandered the streets daily, returning again and again to key places where they had posted their search notices and reward offer. No new results. It was about time to try their search from a new angle, hire someone local to continue the effort. But Rupert wanted to stay just a few more days, just a few more…and Luke relented.
Since, on their first day, they had passed a number of other people with mortus and other species of pets, Rupert took to taking his mortu Maggie with them on their walks, to give Maggie some exercise she wouldn’t otherwise get if she were cooped up in the Falcon’s interior the whole time.
But other than the occasional interest in the extraordinarily well-behaved mortu who walked beside Rupert obediently without the need for a leash, passers-by gave them no second glances.
No shadowy guides appeared to lead them through dark alleys.
Just smelly, filthy streets, littered with refuse and scattered areas of tents and shelters where those without better shelter found refuge.
Finally, they returned, for the umpteenth time, to one of their spots next to a tiny park-like area a couple of trees surrounded by a number of benches, a tiny oasis of green inside the dull gray soot-wash of the city. They’d taken to coming here as a slight break from the otherwise gray, smelly urban slum.
Rupert let out a familiar breath of frustration once they sat down on one of the benches, the same one they always sat on. “This is pointless.”
“Maybe not.”
After several long minutes, a woman from one of the other benches, an old woman they had seen before on that same bench, stood up and walked slowly over to them, her advanced age apparently making walking difficult. “Hello,” she said tentatively.
“Hello,” Luke replied, smiling.
“Hi,” said Rupert.
The woman looked down at the mortu at Rupert’s feet. “Your…mortu is very well behaved.”
“Thank you,” Rupert said.
The woman reached a hand hesitantly towards the animal’s head, then drew it back nervously.
“You can pet her if you want,” Rupert said. “She’s very friendly.”
The woman stretched her hand towards the mortu’s head again, touching the top of its head with feather-light fingertips. When the mortu didn’t growl or nip, she laid her hand on the top of its head. Maggie thumped her tail happily at the attention.
“She likes you,” Rupert said encouragingly. He liked having Maggie interact with as many people as possible. The animal wasn’t…shy, exactly, but she could be a bit skittish around new people.
But not, apparently, around others who were as skittish as she was.
A tentative smile touched the old woman’s lips. “What’s her name?”
“Maggie,” Rupert told her. “It’s okay. She won’t bite.”
The woman ran her hand lightly over Maggie’s head, ready to snatch it back if the mortu should try to nip her. But the animal only thumped her tail harder.
The woman let out a sound that wasn’t a laugh, but was a sound of pleasure nonetheless. Then she pulled her hand back and stood up. “Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” Rupert replied, smiling.
She walked away slowly. Luke noted that she seemed to favor her left leg somewhat.
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When they returned to the little park area again the next day, the woman, dressed in the same shabby clothes, was there again, sitting on her same bench. Luke suggested taking another break, and as soon as they sat down, she stood up and made her slow way over to them.
“Hello again,” she said tentatively.
“Hello,” Rupert and Luke replied in turn.
“Can I…pet your mortu again?”
“Sure,” Rupert said.
She knelt down and put her hand on Maggie’s head again, then tentatively ran her hand along the mortu’s back, and was rewarded by happily thumping tail.
The shabby woman made that same sound of pleasure she had made the day before and stood up. “Thank you,” she said. “Again.”
“You’re welcome. Again.”
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The next day, when they took a rest at the bench, they were not surprised to see the shabby woman waiting on her own bench. This time she came over as soon as they had sat down. “Hello again,” she said.
“Hi again,” Rupert replied. Luke just smiled.
“May I?”
“Of course.”
The woman rubbed Maggie’s head with more confidence this time, putting her head closer to the animal, and Maggie responded by licking the woman’s face.
The shabby woman’s sound of pleasure increased to one of pure delight. She stood up and reached into a grubby pocket and pulled out a piece of what looked like days old bread. She showed it to Rupert. “I…saved some of my breakfast for her in case I saw you again. Do you think she’d like it?”
“I’m sure she will,” Rupert said. “She gets fed plenty, but she’s always looking for hand-outs.”
The shabby woman slowly reached the bread towards Maggie’s muzzle. The mortu sniffed it, then gently took the gift and swallowed it, making the woman smile. Then Maggie licked the woman’s cheek again, eliciting the old woman’s sound of pleasure.
On an impulse, Luke reached down to scratch Maggie’s ears near the old woman’s hand. The woman moved her hand back away as Luke’s approached, then returned when Luke withdrew his hand. A tiny little dance of hands.
“I’m Luke.”
The old woman continued to stroke Maggie’s head. “I’m Aviva…Or Vivi, if you like.”
Rupert saw how Luke had introduced himself, without a handshake, and did the same. “Rupert,” he said, pointing to himself.
She continued to pet the mortu. “Aviva. Vivi.”
“Nice to meet you, Vivi.”
“Care to join us?” Luke asked sliding over.
“No, I…just like your mortu.” The old woman bent to pet Maggie again, thanked them again, and moved slowly away, favoring her left leg slightly.
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The next day, Luke had them skip their usual routine, and they went straight to the area near the miniscule park. But instead of sitting at their bench, Luke led Rupert into a small nearby shop, where they watched through a window.
Sure enough, before the time they usually arrived at the green space, the old woman slowly approached. She stopped at each trash receptacle she passed, rummaged into it, looking for bits of garbage that she either put into her mouth or into her pocket.
“Oh,” Rupert said. He was unused to seeing such poverty.
After she finished with the last trash receptacle, the old woman hobbled over to her usual seat, and sat down to wait.
Luke made a small purchase to justify their lingering in the shop, motioned for Rupert to follow him out through a side door, found another shop that sold foodstuffs, and purchased two breakfast rolls, and strolled toward the tiny park. He took a small bite out of his food, and motioned for Rupert to do the same.
They took their seats, and Aviva hobbled over to them, as they expected, and returned their vocal greeting. Her eyes passed over their food as she knelt down to greet Maggie and rub her fur.
“Why don’t you join us?” Luke said, moving over to make room for her on the bench, and Rupert slid the other way, giving her as much space as they could. This time the old woman tentatively sat down.
Luke looked at the sandwich in his hand, then held it out towards her. “I think I’m full. Would you like some, Aviva?”
“N—no, thank you.”
Luke set the sandwich on the bench.
The old woman looked at it for a moment, then at the mortu. “But if you don’t want any more, perhaps Maggie--?” She looked at Rupert, who nodded. Then she took the food from the bench, broke off pieces and started feeding them to the mortu, receiving tail thumps and occasional licks in return.
After a while, Rupert held up a staying hand, and laughed. “I think that’s enough. She doesn’t always know when to quit eating, I’m afraid. But I do. I’m full, too.” He held his sandwich out to her. “You sure you don’t want any, Vivi? It’s just going to go to waste otherwise.”
“No, thank you,” the old woman answered.
Rupert set his sandwich on the bench as Luke had done earlier. Aviva stood up. She indicated the sandwich remans on the bench. “If you’re sure you’re through, I’ll throw those out for you, if you like.”
“Sure,” Rupert said. “Thanks.”
She picked up Rupert’s sandwich and what remained of Luke’s food, and hobbled over to the nearest receptacle. Rupert pretended to pet Maggie as he watched her pretend to throw the food out, and surreptitiously stuff it into a pocket. “Why—? ” he wondered quietly.
“Pride,” Luke responded. He hadn’t even needed to look at her to know what she was doing.
“Gemma?”
“I think so.”
Aviva—or Gemma—shuffled back to the bench but didn’t sit. She lavished some more attention on Maggie.
Luke drew in a deep breath. Things could go on forever like this if he didn’t put a stop to it soon. “Aviva,” he said, “it’s been a pleasure meeting you, but I’m afraid tomorrow will be our last day here. Rupert and I have been looking for someone, but so far there's been no answer to our adverts. We have to return home. But we’re very glad to have met you, though.”
Rupert felt it, then, the slight tremor in the Force that Luke had felt from the simple pleasures the old woman had gotten from a mortu’s affections, only now in reverse, disappointment.
Luke rose to his feet, and Rupert followed suit. The old woman bent to rub Maggie’s head again, in farewell.
“Until tomorrow, then,” Luke said, and motioned Rupert to follow him back out of the area.
Once they were out of earshot, Rupert asked, “What are you doing?”
“Giving her a choice,” Luke replied. "We can't do this forever."
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The next day, Luke and Rupert returned, and brought with them a small picnic consisting of three sandwiches plus some tidbits for Maggie. Aviva was already sitting in the middle of the bench waiting for them when they arrived. Luke and Rupert took their places on either side of Aviva, giving her as much room as the bench would allow, and Maggie settled at the old woman’s feet. Luke waited until she had given Maggie a long rub, then held up one of the sandwiches. “For you,” he said, and put it on the bench between them. Then he passed one across her to Rupert, pretending not to notice as she shrank back, and sat back to unwrap his own.
“Th—thank you,” Aviva whispered. “Very kind.” She unwrapped it and broke off a piece then started to reach down to give it to Maggie.
Which was Rupert’s cue. “Oh, I almost forgot. He set the small bag of treats for Maggie on the bench between them. “You can give Maggie these. More healthy for her than people-food. We could see how much you enjoy feeding her.”
“Most kind,” Aviva murmured. “I have something for you, too.” She rummaged into a pocket of her grubby dress, took out a small object, and placed it on the seat next to Rupert.
Luke and Rupert exchanged glances. This was unexpected. This old woman, who had nothing for herself, was giving them a gift? Rupert set his sandwich in his lap and picked up the tiny object. Only then did the old woman take a miniscule bite from her own sandwich.
Rupert studied the peculiar thing she had given him: an odd twisting of wire and bits of metal interwoven into some sort of design. He rotated it, and then he saw it. A bug. A little sculpture of a bug made from bits of detritus. There was the head, there the eyes, there the tiny antennae, there the wings, there the tiny feet.”
“Very clever,” he said, and handed it to Luke to study.
The old woman swallowed her small bite. “A young friend of mine gifted that to me. He makes them to sell, but that one he made for me. I give it now to you, with his permission. ”
Luke saw the bug right away. “Very clever,” he agreed, and returned the tiny sculpture to Rupert.
“Thank you,” Rupert said to the woman. He pocketed the bit of art.
She nodded, and took another tiny bite of her food.
Luke waited until the old woman had eaten all of her sandwich and fed Maggie all of the treats in the bag. She moved slowly, as if aware that when the small meal came to an end, there would be an ending of another kind.
Luke brushed off his hands and stood up. “Rue,” he said, “I think we should head back to Ashti and see if she has any leads on any of the other women from Camp Quartus, so we can find them and let them know that they’re safe now. With Etan Lippa dead, no one but us is going to come looking for them. We’ve done everything we can to find Gemma, and I think she knows we’re here and that we want to talk with her. If she doesn’t want to talk to us, that’s her right, and we should leave her alone.” He switched his gaze from Rupert to the old woman to see what effect his words were having on her.
She was staring straight ahead. “Ashti…” she whispered. “Ashti sent you?”
“Yes.”
She swallowed, although there was no food in her mouth, then looked at them in turn. “What…do you want of me?”
“We want…we hope…that you will tell us your story.” Luke said.
“We’ll pay you,” Rupert said. “Whatever you want.”
Her brows furrowed deeply. “Why? Why do you want to hear my story?”
“Because it needs to be told,” Luke said. “We're here on behalf of Nori's son.”
“Nori’s son is alive?”
Luke glanced at Rupert. “Yes. But…he’s troubled. We're here on his behalf. There’s no danger to you from us, Gemma. But you need to make a choice. I know that telling your story will undoubtedly cause you pain. But your not telling it will undoubtedly prolong Nori’s son’s pain, although his pain was never as great as yours was. You need to make a choice."
Her eyes flew upward at Luke in something like a panic. "A choice?"
For some reason, the word 'choice' seemed to trigger something alarming in her. Luke tried to make his voice as soothing as he could. "I realize that talking about what happened would be very painful for you, and I wouldn't ask it of you if it weren't important to Nori's son. But if you don't want to, that's your right, and we'll leave you alone."
Aviva—Gemma—looked at him with haunted eyes. “A choice is given?”
“The choice to share your story, or not share it. If you say ‘no,’ we’ll leave you in peace, and we won’t bother you again. The man who was hunting you--Etan Lippa--is dead. He can’t hurt you--any of you—anymore. And your story won’t go any farther than you're willing to share. Not without your permission.”
A choice has been given!
The old woman drew in a deep, ragged breath. “It’s time, then.”
Rupert had no idea what she meant by that. “Will you tell us your story?”
She closed her eyes. It was a long moment before she nodded. “For Nori’s son…Yes, I’ll tell you…” she whispered. “But not here.”
A choice has been given!
The choice has been made!
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She led them, at a painfully slow gait that grew slower as they progressed, through the gray streets of the lower income sector into the poorest of the poor area of the city, where makeshift tents were pitched in front of decrepit tenement buildings half-collapsed and interspersed with barrels of fire tended by workers of some sort. It was only a matter of blocks, but it took a long time to cover at the pace set by the old woman. Rupert had quietly suggested to Luke that they might hire a conveyance to take them the rest of the way, but Luke gave his head a small shake. Apparently the woman had made this journey every day on her own to meet them in the small park. Rupert could be patient a while longer.
They passed a couple of fire-barrels where a number of people clustered, and a tender dipped water from barrels into vessels of various size, shape, and original purpose, and set them on grates over the fires to heat, or took them off the grates to give to bystanders, and tents whose stench of sewage testified to their purpose. It was where the lowest of the low resided, and the old woman shambled into the midst of it. She led them through a maze of make-shift tents and shelters to one that looked much like any of the others—a tarp stretched from the top of one side of an old abandoned vehicle forming one wall, to attach to another tent forming another wall, tarps stretched over the front and back, with a sheet of rusty scrap metal fitted with a pair of make-shift handles attached, serving as a door. Aviva/Gemma struggled with the “door” for a moment then set it aside. Then the old woman ushered the two men inside the shelter, turned the door so that the handles were now facing the inside, and leaned it against the beam that ran across the top of the tent shelter.
She indicated the shabby “couch” that took up the majority of the small tent. The “couch” had once been the bench seat of a vehicle, probably the same one that formed one wall of the tent. There was also a “chair”—or what had once been the driver’s seat of a vehicle, probably the same one, propped up on cement blocks to chair height. “Please sit,” she said. “I’ll have some tea in a minute.” She moved to her pile of belongings and rummaged through until she came up with an old battered kettle, and set it on a sheet of scrap metal that served as a tray. This she set on an upturned crate that served as a table, and reached for the makeshift door to her shelter.
“Let me get that for you,” Rupert said, reaching the door ahead of her.
She shrank back as he picked up the door and set it aside, but waved him off when he started to reach for the scrap metal tray and tea kettle. Luke made a subtle settling gesture, and Rupert bit back his impatience. He was eager to learn what he could, but Luke’s gesture had reminded him that they were guests in this woman’s home, shabby as it was.
The woman left the make-shift tent to go to the community fire that served the rough cluster of tents. She handed her kettle to the fire-tender who then dipped some water from his barrel into the kettle, and used tongues to set it on a grate across the top of the fire. She exchanged some words with the others who were gathered there, and eventually the fire-tender used the tongues to take the pot off the fire and set it back onto her scrap-metal tray. Then she hobbled back to her tent and set the tray on the crate that served her as a table.
She went to her pile of things again and retrieved three empty cans that served as cups. She set them on the tray on the crate-table, used an old rag to pick up her kettle, and moved to pour. The weight of the pot caused her hand to shake, and Rupert moved to take it from her, but she pulled away.
She explained. “I haven’t many days left,” she told him, “and I prefer to do things for myself while I can.”
Rupert was about to argue that there was o shame in accepting help, but Luke gestured with a head shake to stop him. It was clear that the woman would not take charity, and the one thing she had plenty of, even in this shabby small tent-home, was pride.
Luke took the can-cup that was meant for him, motioned for Rupert to do likewise, and waited until the older woman had taken her can, had sat down in her chair, and had taken a sip from her can. Luke took a sip from his own make-shift cup—not “tea,” but just heated water, with a taste to it that indicated impurities he’d rather not think about, and the reason behind its needing to be heated—and set the can back down. “Thank you for agreeing to tell us your story.”
The old woman nodded and set her own can down on the crate that served as a "table." “I hardly know where to begin.”
“Anywhere you like,” Luke told her.
She breathed a long sigh. “Please be patient with me. I have never spoken of the camp to anyone outside of the camp before now. And as you were not part of the camp, I doubt you would understand everything. So please…just listen.”
Luke nodded.
“Of course,” Rupert added.
"I suppose..." she began hesitantly. "I suppose the most important thing to know about me is that...I am a coward."
Luke and Rupert went to Hegarth, to Georgiana City, to the slums on the east side, and spent days, weeks, searching the slums for someone named “Gemma,” to no avail.
They had put up notices and advertisements wherever they could, and had offered a substantial reward for any information that would lead them to her. But there were no responses.
They wandered the streets daily, returning again and again to key places where they had posted their search notices and reward offer. No new results. It was about time to try their search from a new angle, hire someone local to continue the effort. But Rupert wanted to stay just a few more days, just a few more…and Luke relented.
Since, on their first day, they had passed a number of other people with mortus and other species of pets, Rupert took to taking his mortu Maggie with them on their walks, to give Maggie some exercise she wouldn’t otherwise get if she were cooped up in the Falcon’s interior the whole time.
But other than the occasional interest in the extraordinarily well-behaved mortu who walked beside Rupert obediently without the need for a leash, passers-by gave them no second glances.
No shadowy guides appeared to lead them through dark alleys.
Just smelly, filthy streets, littered with refuse and scattered areas of tents and shelters where those without better shelter found refuge.
Finally, they returned, for the umpteenth time, to one of their spots next to a tiny park-like area a couple of trees surrounded by a number of benches, a tiny oasis of green inside the dull gray soot-wash of the city. They’d taken to coming here as a slight break from the otherwise gray, smelly urban slum.
Rupert let out a familiar breath of frustration once they sat down on one of the benches, the same one they always sat on. “This is pointless.”
“Maybe not.”
After several long minutes, a woman from one of the other benches, an old woman they had seen before on that same bench, stood up and walked slowly over to them, her advanced age apparently making walking difficult. “Hello,” she said tentatively.
“Hello,” Luke replied, smiling.
“Hi,” said Rupert.
The woman looked down at the mortu at Rupert’s feet. “Your…mortu is very well behaved.”
“Thank you,” Rupert said.
The woman reached a hand hesitantly towards the animal’s head, then drew it back nervously.
“You can pet her if you want,” Rupert said. “She’s very friendly.”
The woman stretched her hand towards the mortu’s head again, touching the top of its head with feather-light fingertips. When the mortu didn’t growl or nip, she laid her hand on the top of its head. Maggie thumped her tail happily at the attention.
“She likes you,” Rupert said encouragingly. He liked having Maggie interact with as many people as possible. The animal wasn’t…shy, exactly, but she could be a bit skittish around new people.
But not, apparently, around others who were as skittish as she was.
A tentative smile touched the old woman’s lips. “What’s her name?”
“Maggie,” Rupert told her. “It’s okay. She won’t bite.”
The woman ran her hand lightly over Maggie’s head, ready to snatch it back if the mortu should try to nip her. But the animal only thumped her tail harder.
The woman let out a sound that wasn’t a laugh, but was a sound of pleasure nonetheless. Then she pulled her hand back and stood up. “Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” Rupert replied, smiling.
She walked away slowly. Luke noted that she seemed to favor her left leg somewhat.
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When they returned to the little park area again the next day, the woman, dressed in the same shabby clothes, was there again, sitting on her same bench. Luke suggested taking another break, and as soon as they sat down, she stood up and made her slow way over to them.
“Hello again,” she said tentatively.
“Hello,” Rupert and Luke replied in turn.
“Can I…pet your mortu again?”
“Sure,” Rupert said.
She knelt down and put her hand on Maggie’s head again, then tentatively ran her hand along the mortu’s back, and was rewarded by happily thumping tail.
The shabby woman made that same sound of pleasure she had made the day before and stood up. “Thank you,” she said. “Again.”
“You’re welcome. Again.”
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The next day, when they took a rest at the bench, they were not surprised to see the shabby woman waiting on her own bench. This time she came over as soon as they had sat down. “Hello again,” she said.
“Hi again,” Rupert replied. Luke just smiled.
“May I?”
“Of course.”
The woman rubbed Maggie’s head with more confidence this time, putting her head closer to the animal, and Maggie responded by licking the woman’s face.
The shabby woman’s sound of pleasure increased to one of pure delight. She stood up and reached into a grubby pocket and pulled out a piece of what looked like days old bread. She showed it to Rupert. “I…saved some of my breakfast for her in case I saw you again. Do you think she’d like it?”
“I’m sure she will,” Rupert said. “She gets fed plenty, but she’s always looking for hand-outs.”
The shabby woman slowly reached the bread towards Maggie’s muzzle. The mortu sniffed it, then gently took the gift and swallowed it, making the woman smile. Then Maggie licked the woman’s cheek again, eliciting the old woman’s sound of pleasure.
On an impulse, Luke reached down to scratch Maggie’s ears near the old woman’s hand. The woman moved her hand back away as Luke’s approached, then returned when Luke withdrew his hand. A tiny little dance of hands.
“I’m Luke.”
The old woman continued to stroke Maggie’s head. “I’m Aviva…Or Vivi, if you like.”
Rupert saw how Luke had introduced himself, without a handshake, and did the same. “Rupert,” he said, pointing to himself.
She continued to pet the mortu. “Aviva. Vivi.”
“Nice to meet you, Vivi.”
“Care to join us?” Luke asked sliding over.
“No, I…just like your mortu.” The old woman bent to pet Maggie again, thanked them again, and moved slowly away, favoring her left leg slightly.
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The next day, Luke had them skip their usual routine, and they went straight to the area near the miniscule park. But instead of sitting at their bench, Luke led Rupert into a small nearby shop, where they watched through a window.
Sure enough, before the time they usually arrived at the green space, the old woman slowly approached. She stopped at each trash receptacle she passed, rummaged into it, looking for bits of garbage that she either put into her mouth or into her pocket.
“Oh,” Rupert said. He was unused to seeing such poverty.
After she finished with the last trash receptacle, the old woman hobbled over to her usual seat, and sat down to wait.
Luke made a small purchase to justify their lingering in the shop, motioned for Rupert to follow him out through a side door, found another shop that sold foodstuffs, and purchased two breakfast rolls, and strolled toward the tiny park. He took a small bite out of his food, and motioned for Rupert to do the same.
They took their seats, and Aviva hobbled over to them, as they expected, and returned their vocal greeting. Her eyes passed over their food as she knelt down to greet Maggie and rub her fur.
“Why don’t you join us?” Luke said, moving over to make room for her on the bench, and Rupert slid the other way, giving her as much space as they could. This time the old woman tentatively sat down.
Luke looked at the sandwich in his hand, then held it out towards her. “I think I’m full. Would you like some, Aviva?”
“N—no, thank you.”
Luke set the sandwich on the bench.
The old woman looked at it for a moment, then at the mortu. “But if you don’t want any more, perhaps Maggie--?” She looked at Rupert, who nodded. Then she took the food from the bench, broke off pieces and started feeding them to the mortu, receiving tail thumps and occasional licks in return.
After a while, Rupert held up a staying hand, and laughed. “I think that’s enough. She doesn’t always know when to quit eating, I’m afraid. But I do. I’m full, too.” He held his sandwich out to her. “You sure you don’t want any, Vivi? It’s just going to go to waste otherwise.”
“No, thank you,” the old woman answered.
Rupert set his sandwich on the bench as Luke had done earlier. Aviva stood up. She indicated the sandwich remans on the bench. “If you’re sure you’re through, I’ll throw those out for you, if you like.”
“Sure,” Rupert said. “Thanks.”
She picked up Rupert’s sandwich and what remained of Luke’s food, and hobbled over to the nearest receptacle. Rupert pretended to pet Maggie as he watched her pretend to throw the food out, and surreptitiously stuff it into a pocket. “Why—? ” he wondered quietly.
“Pride,” Luke responded. He hadn’t even needed to look at her to know what she was doing.
“Gemma?”
“I think so.”
Aviva—or Gemma—shuffled back to the bench but didn’t sit. She lavished some more attention on Maggie.
Luke drew in a deep breath. Things could go on forever like this if he didn’t put a stop to it soon. “Aviva,” he said, “it’s been a pleasure meeting you, but I’m afraid tomorrow will be our last day here. Rupert and I have been looking for someone, but so far there's been no answer to our adverts. We have to return home. But we’re very glad to have met you, though.”
Rupert felt it, then, the slight tremor in the Force that Luke had felt from the simple pleasures the old woman had gotten from a mortu’s affections, only now in reverse, disappointment.
Luke rose to his feet, and Rupert followed suit. The old woman bent to rub Maggie’s head again, in farewell.
“Until tomorrow, then,” Luke said, and motioned Rupert to follow him back out of the area.
Once they were out of earshot, Rupert asked, “What are you doing?”
“Giving her a choice,” Luke replied. "We can't do this forever."
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The next day, Luke and Rupert returned, and brought with them a small picnic consisting of three sandwiches plus some tidbits for Maggie. Aviva was already sitting in the middle of the bench waiting for them when they arrived. Luke and Rupert took their places on either side of Aviva, giving her as much room as the bench would allow, and Maggie settled at the old woman’s feet. Luke waited until she had given Maggie a long rub, then held up one of the sandwiches. “For you,” he said, and put it on the bench between them. Then he passed one across her to Rupert, pretending not to notice as she shrank back, and sat back to unwrap his own.
“Th—thank you,” Aviva whispered. “Very kind.” She unwrapped it and broke off a piece then started to reach down to give it to Maggie.
Which was Rupert’s cue. “Oh, I almost forgot. He set the small bag of treats for Maggie on the bench between them. “You can give Maggie these. More healthy for her than people-food. We could see how much you enjoy feeding her.”
“Most kind,” Aviva murmured. “I have something for you, too.” She rummaged into a pocket of her grubby dress, took out a small object, and placed it on the seat next to Rupert.
Luke and Rupert exchanged glances. This was unexpected. This old woman, who had nothing for herself, was giving them a gift? Rupert set his sandwich in his lap and picked up the tiny object. Only then did the old woman take a miniscule bite from her own sandwich.
Rupert studied the peculiar thing she had given him: an odd twisting of wire and bits of metal interwoven into some sort of design. He rotated it, and then he saw it. A bug. A little sculpture of a bug made from bits of detritus. There was the head, there the eyes, there the tiny antennae, there the wings, there the tiny feet.”
“Very clever,” he said, and handed it to Luke to study.
The old woman swallowed her small bite. “A young friend of mine gifted that to me. He makes them to sell, but that one he made for me. I give it now to you, with his permission. ”
Luke saw the bug right away. “Very clever,” he agreed, and returned the tiny sculpture to Rupert.
“Thank you,” Rupert said to the woman. He pocketed the bit of art.
She nodded, and took another tiny bite of her food.
Luke waited until the old woman had eaten all of her sandwich and fed Maggie all of the treats in the bag. She moved slowly, as if aware that when the small meal came to an end, there would be an ending of another kind.
Luke brushed off his hands and stood up. “Rue,” he said, “I think we should head back to Ashti and see if she has any leads on any of the other women from Camp Quartus, so we can find them and let them know that they’re safe now. With Etan Lippa dead, no one but us is going to come looking for them. We’ve done everything we can to find Gemma, and I think she knows we’re here and that we want to talk with her. If she doesn’t want to talk to us, that’s her right, and we should leave her alone.” He switched his gaze from Rupert to the old woman to see what effect his words were having on her.
She was staring straight ahead. “Ashti…” she whispered. “Ashti sent you?”
“Yes.”
She swallowed, although there was no food in her mouth, then looked at them in turn. “What…do you want of me?”
“We want…we hope…that you will tell us your story.” Luke said.
“We’ll pay you,” Rupert said. “Whatever you want.”
Her brows furrowed deeply. “Why? Why do you want to hear my story?”
“Because it needs to be told,” Luke said. “We're here on behalf of Nori's son.”
“Nori’s son is alive?”
Luke glanced at Rupert. “Yes. But…he’s troubled. We're here on his behalf. There’s no danger to you from us, Gemma. But you need to make a choice. I know that telling your story will undoubtedly cause you pain. But your not telling it will undoubtedly prolong Nori’s son’s pain, although his pain was never as great as yours was. You need to make a choice."
Her eyes flew upward at Luke in something like a panic. "A choice?"
For some reason, the word 'choice' seemed to trigger something alarming in her. Luke tried to make his voice as soothing as he could. "I realize that talking about what happened would be very painful for you, and I wouldn't ask it of you if it weren't important to Nori's son. But if you don't want to, that's your right, and we'll leave you alone."
Aviva—Gemma—looked at him with haunted eyes. “A choice is given?”
“The choice to share your story, or not share it. If you say ‘no,’ we’ll leave you in peace, and we won’t bother you again. The man who was hunting you--Etan Lippa--is dead. He can’t hurt you--any of you—anymore. And your story won’t go any farther than you're willing to share. Not without your permission.”
A choice has been given!
The old woman drew in a deep, ragged breath. “It’s time, then.”
Rupert had no idea what she meant by that. “Will you tell us your story?”
She closed her eyes. It was a long moment before she nodded. “For Nori’s son…Yes, I’ll tell you…” she whispered. “But not here.”
A choice has been given!
The choice has been made!
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She led them, at a painfully slow gait that grew slower as they progressed, through the gray streets of the lower income sector into the poorest of the poor area of the city, where makeshift tents were pitched in front of decrepit tenement buildings half-collapsed and interspersed with barrels of fire tended by workers of some sort. It was only a matter of blocks, but it took a long time to cover at the pace set by the old woman. Rupert had quietly suggested to Luke that they might hire a conveyance to take them the rest of the way, but Luke gave his head a small shake. Apparently the woman had made this journey every day on her own to meet them in the small park. Rupert could be patient a while longer.
They passed a couple of fire-barrels where a number of people clustered, and a tender dipped water from barrels into vessels of various size, shape, and original purpose, and set them on grates over the fires to heat, or took them off the grates to give to bystanders, and tents whose stench of sewage testified to their purpose. It was where the lowest of the low resided, and the old woman shambled into the midst of it. She led them through a maze of make-shift tents and shelters to one that looked much like any of the others—a tarp stretched from the top of one side of an old abandoned vehicle forming one wall, to attach to another tent forming another wall, tarps stretched over the front and back, with a sheet of rusty scrap metal fitted with a pair of make-shift handles attached, serving as a door. Aviva/Gemma struggled with the “door” for a moment then set it aside. Then the old woman ushered the two men inside the shelter, turned the door so that the handles were now facing the inside, and leaned it against the beam that ran across the top of the tent shelter.
She indicated the shabby “couch” that took up the majority of the small tent. The “couch” had once been the bench seat of a vehicle, probably the same one that formed one wall of the tent. There was also a “chair”—or what had once been the driver’s seat of a vehicle, probably the same one, propped up on cement blocks to chair height. “Please sit,” she said. “I’ll have some tea in a minute.” She moved to her pile of belongings and rummaged through until she came up with an old battered kettle, and set it on a sheet of scrap metal that served as a tray. This she set on an upturned crate that served as a table, and reached for the makeshift door to her shelter.
“Let me get that for you,” Rupert said, reaching the door ahead of her.
She shrank back as he picked up the door and set it aside, but waved him off when he started to reach for the scrap metal tray and tea kettle. Luke made a subtle settling gesture, and Rupert bit back his impatience. He was eager to learn what he could, but Luke’s gesture had reminded him that they were guests in this woman’s home, shabby as it was.
The woman left the make-shift tent to go to the community fire that served the rough cluster of tents. She handed her kettle to the fire-tender who then dipped some water from his barrel into the kettle, and used tongues to set it on a grate across the top of the fire. She exchanged some words with the others who were gathered there, and eventually the fire-tender used the tongues to take the pot off the fire and set it back onto her scrap-metal tray. Then she hobbled back to her tent and set the tray on the crate that served her as a table.
She went to her pile of things again and retrieved three empty cans that served as cups. She set them on the tray on the crate-table, used an old rag to pick up her kettle, and moved to pour. The weight of the pot caused her hand to shake, and Rupert moved to take it from her, but she pulled away.
She explained. “I haven’t many days left,” she told him, “and I prefer to do things for myself while I can.”
Rupert was about to argue that there was o shame in accepting help, but Luke gestured with a head shake to stop him. It was clear that the woman would not take charity, and the one thing she had plenty of, even in this shabby small tent-home, was pride.
Luke took the can-cup that was meant for him, motioned for Rupert to do likewise, and waited until the older woman had taken her can, had sat down in her chair, and had taken a sip from her can. Luke took a sip from his own make-shift cup—not “tea,” but just heated water, with a taste to it that indicated impurities he’d rather not think about, and the reason behind its needing to be heated—and set the can back down. “Thank you for agreeing to tell us your story.”
The old woman nodded and set her own can down on the crate that served as a "table." “I hardly know where to begin.”
“Anywhere you like,” Luke told her.
She breathed a long sigh. “Please be patient with me. I have never spoken of the camp to anyone outside of the camp before now. And as you were not part of the camp, I doubt you would understand everything. So please…just listen.”
Luke nodded.
“Of course,” Rupert added.
"I suppose..." she began hesitantly. "I suppose the most important thing to know about me is that...I am a coward."
-----
Chapter Three--"Gemma"
The old woman drew in a deep breath, held it for a moment, then said, “I was called ‘Gemma’ in those days. I am—was—a Seer. Do you know what that is?”
“Yes,” Luke said. “Someone who…catches glimpses of the future.”
“Yes. I had an ability to ‘see’ things. Not many things. Only a handful. But what I saw terrified me. I saw myself being taken to the camp. I saw the rapes. I saw the punishments. I saw the children who were killed. I saw all of that. And I was afraid. Perhaps the Jedi Academy would have been able to train that fear from me, but the Academy was gone by the time I would have been old enough to attend. The Purge, you see. My father was a Jedi Knight, killed in the Purge on Coruscant. He was a Seer, also. I don’t know whether my father saw my fate, but Master Chu did. He saw my fate, and saw his own, as well. He saw that he would die trying to defend me. And yet, he stayed with me, and tried to prepare me for what was to come…”
She paused, took a deep breath, then went on. “My father had brought Master Chu home with him for a visit—more than a visit, really—an evaluation, because by then I was showing some early signs of the Sight. But my father was recalled to Coruscant by the Jedi Council, because he had warned them of an impending disaster—the Purge—and other Seers were sensing something, too. So my father was recalled, to try to stave off the danger by putting all the bits and pieces of the visions that each Seer had into a complete picture. They’d have done better to scatter the Jedi, as my father had advised. But no, the Council felt that their strength was in unity, and my father would not defy the Council, so he went. I never saw him again. The Purge came soon after.”
She looked at Luke apologetically. “A Seer can’t always tell whether the things he or she sees are in the immediate or in the distant future.”
“I understand,” Luke said.
She looked back down at her hands, as her fingers twisted together nervously. “Master Chu and I tried to run. Actually, Master Chu humored my desire to run, but while we were running, he tried to teach me what I needed to know to survive, knowing the entire time that he wouldn’t survive. And I…loved him for that. I love him still, even though he has been gone now all these many years. And he loved me. He became a sort of father to me, in place of the one I had lost. He loved me even though I was a coward.”
She looked at Luke, then at Rupert. “And I am a coward, still.” The old woman cleared her throat, picked up her cup-can to take another sip, and set her cup-can back down.
“I was fifteen,” the old woman went on. “I was fifteen when I was taken to Camp Quartus. It had been, perhaps, a dozen years since the Purge. I was lucky, if you could call it that. I was not yet old enough at the time of the Purge to have been accepted into the Academy. I was little more than a terrified child when Master Chu came to me. Terrified, because I had seen my future. I wanted to run. I wanted to escape it. Master Chu obliged me by taking me with him as we travelled from place to place. But in the end, we couldn’t outrun either his fate, or mine. Master Chu’s fate and mine were so closely entwined. He, too, saw what would happen to me, and to himself, too, but he faced his own destiny with far more courage than ever I had. He tried to prepare me, but…I was a coward. Perhaps if there had been more time…But despite our efforts to run, the Sith Lord Darth Vader found us. Lord Vader was a presence I would come to see many times in the camp.”
At the name ‘Darth Vader,’ Luke’s expression became grim, and Rupert looked at him sharply, but neither one interrupted the old woman.
Aviva took a shaky breath and another sip of the now-tepid water. “Master Chu died trying to protect me. As we had both foreseen would happen. Master Chu’s head, cut off by Vader’s lightsaber weapon, rolled near me as I cowered in my hiding place nearby. I could hear his body crumple to the floor. Then Lord Vader reached into my hiding place and easily plucked me out, as if I were nothing more than a rag doll that had fallen under a table. He tried to set me on my feet, but I could not even stand. He told a stormtrooper who had accompanied him to pick me up. The stormtrooper picked me up like a sack of root vegetables, and carried me to their ship, and took me to Hell…”
She needed to pause, closed her eyes, then after a long moment, opened her eyes again and stared ahead, at nothing. “The first thing they did when I arrived at the camp, was carry me to a medical examination room. They strapped me to a table, attached my feet to stirrups, bound my legs to a spreader. Someone cut off my clothes. A doctor came in and examined my most intimate areas. They took blood samples. They inserted a long needle through my abdomen into my ovaries to take samples. They inserted a camera into my uterus to examine it. They examined me from head to toe, but with special interest in my reproductive organs. Then they left me on the table.
“I could hear a commotion from another room. This went on for a while. Then I heard screams. The screams didn’t last long. I didn’t know at the time, but there had been another prisoner on Vader’s ship. The woman who screamed—it was Ashti. I learned later that they had to give Ashti drugs to render her unconscious before they could finish conducting the same examination on her, because she fought them so. For myself, I was too cowardly to scream or struggle. I was too paralyzed by fear to do anything other than submit.”
“You didn’t have a choice,” Rupert pointed out.
“No…Ashti’s ‘intake,’ as they called it, was somewhat different than mine. Ashti had been married, you see. I was only fifteen, and had never lain with a man. Sometimes I wish I had, so I would know what it was like between a man and a woman when the union was consensual. But when they were done with their examinations, and when Ashti had been revived, we were dressed and taken before the Commandant. I had to be held up by a stormtrooper because, as when Vader found me with Master Chu, my legs would not work. I could not stand, and so the stormtrooper carried me and held me up. It took several stormtroopers to carry Ashti. They had bound her wrists, gagged her mouth, but still she struggled. Still, she fought them. I couldn’t help but admire her strength.”
Luke remembered Ashti’s ghoulish face, and wondered if it had been worth it, and which was worse: the external damage Ashti had suffered, or the internal scars that Aviva—Gemma—bore, that prevented her from simple human contact.
“We were taken before the Commandant, held there by the stormtroopers. He—the Commandant—stood before us, and spoke. It was a speech he would come to give many times, to other women as they were brought to the camp…”
The old woman drew in a deep breath, held it for a moment, then said, “I was called ‘Gemma’ in those days. I am—was—a Seer. Do you know what that is?”
“Yes,” Luke said. “Someone who…catches glimpses of the future.”
“Yes. I had an ability to ‘see’ things. Not many things. Only a handful. But what I saw terrified me. I saw myself being taken to the camp. I saw the rapes. I saw the punishments. I saw the children who were killed. I saw all of that. And I was afraid. Perhaps the Jedi Academy would have been able to train that fear from me, but the Academy was gone by the time I would have been old enough to attend. The Purge, you see. My father was a Jedi Knight, killed in the Purge on Coruscant. He was a Seer, also. I don’t know whether my father saw my fate, but Master Chu did. He saw my fate, and saw his own, as well. He saw that he would die trying to defend me. And yet, he stayed with me, and tried to prepare me for what was to come…”
She paused, took a deep breath, then went on. “My father had brought Master Chu home with him for a visit—more than a visit, really—an evaluation, because by then I was showing some early signs of the Sight. But my father was recalled to Coruscant by the Jedi Council, because he had warned them of an impending disaster—the Purge—and other Seers were sensing something, too. So my father was recalled, to try to stave off the danger by putting all the bits and pieces of the visions that each Seer had into a complete picture. They’d have done better to scatter the Jedi, as my father had advised. But no, the Council felt that their strength was in unity, and my father would not defy the Council, so he went. I never saw him again. The Purge came soon after.”
She looked at Luke apologetically. “A Seer can’t always tell whether the things he or she sees are in the immediate or in the distant future.”
“I understand,” Luke said.
She looked back down at her hands, as her fingers twisted together nervously. “Master Chu and I tried to run. Actually, Master Chu humored my desire to run, but while we were running, he tried to teach me what I needed to know to survive, knowing the entire time that he wouldn’t survive. And I…loved him for that. I love him still, even though he has been gone now all these many years. And he loved me. He became a sort of father to me, in place of the one I had lost. He loved me even though I was a coward.”
She looked at Luke, then at Rupert. “And I am a coward, still.” The old woman cleared her throat, picked up her cup-can to take another sip, and set her cup-can back down.
“I was fifteen,” the old woman went on. “I was fifteen when I was taken to Camp Quartus. It had been, perhaps, a dozen years since the Purge. I was lucky, if you could call it that. I was not yet old enough at the time of the Purge to have been accepted into the Academy. I was little more than a terrified child when Master Chu came to me. Terrified, because I had seen my future. I wanted to run. I wanted to escape it. Master Chu obliged me by taking me with him as we travelled from place to place. But in the end, we couldn’t outrun either his fate, or mine. Master Chu’s fate and mine were so closely entwined. He, too, saw what would happen to me, and to himself, too, but he faced his own destiny with far more courage than ever I had. He tried to prepare me, but…I was a coward. Perhaps if there had been more time…But despite our efforts to run, the Sith Lord Darth Vader found us. Lord Vader was a presence I would come to see many times in the camp.”
At the name ‘Darth Vader,’ Luke’s expression became grim, and Rupert looked at him sharply, but neither one interrupted the old woman.
Aviva took a shaky breath and another sip of the now-tepid water. “Master Chu died trying to protect me. As we had both foreseen would happen. Master Chu’s head, cut off by Vader’s lightsaber weapon, rolled near me as I cowered in my hiding place nearby. I could hear his body crumple to the floor. Then Lord Vader reached into my hiding place and easily plucked me out, as if I were nothing more than a rag doll that had fallen under a table. He tried to set me on my feet, but I could not even stand. He told a stormtrooper who had accompanied him to pick me up. The stormtrooper picked me up like a sack of root vegetables, and carried me to their ship, and took me to Hell…”
She needed to pause, closed her eyes, then after a long moment, opened her eyes again and stared ahead, at nothing. “The first thing they did when I arrived at the camp, was carry me to a medical examination room. They strapped me to a table, attached my feet to stirrups, bound my legs to a spreader. Someone cut off my clothes. A doctor came in and examined my most intimate areas. They took blood samples. They inserted a long needle through my abdomen into my ovaries to take samples. They inserted a camera into my uterus to examine it. They examined me from head to toe, but with special interest in my reproductive organs. Then they left me on the table.
“I could hear a commotion from another room. This went on for a while. Then I heard screams. The screams didn’t last long. I didn’t know at the time, but there had been another prisoner on Vader’s ship. The woman who screamed—it was Ashti. I learned later that they had to give Ashti drugs to render her unconscious before they could finish conducting the same examination on her, because she fought them so. For myself, I was too cowardly to scream or struggle. I was too paralyzed by fear to do anything other than submit.”
“You didn’t have a choice,” Rupert pointed out.
“No…Ashti’s ‘intake,’ as they called it, was somewhat different than mine. Ashti had been married, you see. I was only fifteen, and had never lain with a man. Sometimes I wish I had, so I would know what it was like between a man and a woman when the union was consensual. But when they were done with their examinations, and when Ashti had been revived, we were dressed and taken before the Commandant. I had to be held up by a stormtrooper because, as when Vader found me with Master Chu, my legs would not work. I could not stand, and so the stormtrooper carried me and held me up. It took several stormtroopers to carry Ashti. They had bound her wrists, gagged her mouth, but still she struggled. Still, she fought them. I couldn’t help but admire her strength.”
Luke remembered Ashti’s ghoulish face, and wondered if it had been worth it, and which was worse: the external damage Ashti had suffered, or the internal scars that Aviva—Gemma—bore, that prevented her from simple human contact.
“We were taken before the Commandant, held there by the stormtroopers. He—the Commandant—stood before us, and spoke. It was a speech he would come to give many times, to other women as they were brought to the camp…”
-----
Chapter Four—“The Commandant”
The Commandant looked at the bound, struggling, gagged woman, and frowned. He moved to the other, the younger one, the virgin, and studied her, as well. A girl, really. Seemed a shame, but that was none of his business. The chit couldn’t even stand on her own feet. “Your name?” he asked.
“G-Gemma,” she stammered. “G-Gemma Pa-Pa-vi-va.”
The Commandant glanced at his secretary, who made a notation on his tablet. “The other?” he asked his secretary.
“Vader said her name was Ashti Ranko.”
The Commandant studied the women in turn again a moment longer, then stepped back to address them both together. He spread his arms in a grandiose gesture. “Welcome, ladies. And congratulations at being brought to Camp Quartus, Among all of the Emperor’s subjects, you are among the few chosen ones. You have been chosen. The Emperor needs a male heir to assure the continuation of the Empire, and one of you may be the lucky one who provides that heir. This is now your only purpose in life, to produce a male heir for the greater good of the Empire. You will be given food, shelter, everything that you need to maintain your life. You will be bred to his Imperial Majesty—”
The bound woman, older than the virgin by perhaps a half-dozen years, renewed her struggles against the stormtroopers who held her. The Commandant ignored the fight she put up. “You will be bred to His Imperial Majesty, either directly, at His Majesty’s pleasure, or through medical means. You will become pregnant. Female offspring will be terminated as early as possible so that you may start your reproductive cycles again as quickly as possible. Male offspring will be fully gestated. You will give birth to these male children, and care for them until such time as the Emperor sees fit either to terminate them, or oversee their development personally. If you are cooperative, you will be well-treated. If you resist—” here he looked at the older bound woman “—you will find that the punishment is severe. I have served at two other camps like this one, until I was recently transferred here and promoted to Commandant in order to see to the establishment and smooth operation of this camp. Believe me, I have seen it all before. Any transgression that occurs, occurs only once. Nothing will be done to interfere with your ability to breed, but otherwise your bodies are subject to the whims of the Emperor, and he can—and will—be cruel. Your bodies belong to him now. Remember that. The more cooperative you are, the more readily you obey his commands, the kinder he will be towards you, and the easier your life within the walls of this camp will be. If you are uncooperative, you will be punished, and compelled to abide with his instructions in one way or another. His commands will be obeyed, with or without your cooperation. In the end, you will have no choice. But if you accept your situation and comply with the Emperor’s demands, you will find things to be…more bearable than otherwise.
The Commandant began pacing in front of the women, looking not at them, but at the space in front of his eyes. “The Emperor is due to arrive in a few weeks, in order to personally oversee your first impregnations. In the meantime, your cycles will be synched, and your bodies otherwise prepared for his arrival. I understand that the first cycle can be…somewhat uncomfortable, but after the first time, the process gets a little easier. Remember that what you experience here, what is done to you, is done for the good of the Empire. Everything here is done for the good of the Empire.”
He stopped and regarded the women again. “Tomorrow you will begin the treatments. That is all.”
He waved a hand, and the stormtroopers dragged the girls from his office down a corridor to the cellblock, which they called a “dormitory.” There were no bars or locks on the doors aside from the fortified entrance, but the fortified entrance and lack of windows made it clear that it was a prison nonetheless. The stormtroopers threw Ashti onto the bed of the first cell, and Gemma onto the bed of the cell of the second. Then one of the stormtroopers tossed a key onto Gemma's cot. “You may release your friend when we’re gone.”
Gemma heard their footsteps retreat, and the main door to the cellblock “dormitory” area closed. Now that they were gone, Gemma found that she was able to use her legs again, and ran to the room next door. She quickly undid the binders. “You okay?”
The older prisoner, Ashti, undid the gag herself and threw it across the room with a vengeance. “Those bastards!”
“Yes,” Gemma agreed.
“They killed my husband! I’m going to kill them! I swear I’m going to kill them all!”
“You heard what the Commandant said…”
“I heard. But I’m not going down without a fight. Those bastards!”
Later, the stormtroopers returned to the cellblock, and found the pair huddled on Ashti’s bed, holding each other.
“Time for dinner,” one of the stormtroopers said.
Gemma rose. She hadn’t been given any food since she’d been captured, and she was hungry. Meanwhile, Ashti had to be hauled by two of the stormtroopers, and was pushed onto a seat by a third. Gemma sat at the place indicated, next to Ashti, and plates with piles of white mush were set in front of both her and Ashti.
There were no spoons. Gemma was forced to use her fingers as a spoon.
“Eat!” one of the stormtroopers ordered Ashti.
Ashti sat there, forced to remain in her seat by the stormtroopers, but she refused to touch the food.
Gemma stopped eating her own food.
“Eat!” the guard repeated.
One of the stormtroopers produced a device that, when he touched Ashti with it, caused her to cry out in pain. She fell from her seat, was hauled back into it, and ordered to eat for the third time. This time Ashti threw the plate with the gruel face-down onto the floor. She was zapped with the “correction” tool again, and ordered to eat the food off the floor where it had landed.
By this time, the Commandant had been called. He took the device from the stormtrooper, grabbed Gemma’s arm, and held the device an inch from Gemma’s skin.
Gemma, by now, was crying and cowering, and a stormtrooper held her in her place by simply pressing a hand firmly onto her shoulder.
The threat was clear, without the Commandant saying a word. If Ashti didn’t eat, Gemma would suffer the consequences.
Finally, Ashti knelt down and scooped the gruel off the floor with her fingers, and put it into her mouth.
The Commandant glanced at Gemma, who had stopped eating, and Gemma understood what he wanted. She scooped more food from her plate into her mouth, and forced herself to swallow it, trembling the whole while.
“I told you,” the Commandant said, satisfied that the pair of women were finally both eating, “one way or another, you will cooperate.”
He stood and watched them finish their food, and motioned for the stormtroopers to return them to their cells, and followed them.
It took three guards to drag Ashti.
Once the guards had thrown Ashti onto her bed, the Commandant motioned for the guards to leave. As he started to follow them, Ashti spat the last mouthful of gruel she’d been saving in her mouth onto the Commandant’s impeccable uniform.
The guards started back towards Ashti, but the Commandant waved them off. Ashti sat on her bed, with a gleam of triumph in her eyes, as the Commandant walked over to the door and closed it, with the stormtroopers on the other side.
He was alone with Ashti now.
The stormtroopers waited outside the closed door, ready to rush into the cell if needed.
The Commandant stood in front of Ashti, regarding her coolly. “I’ve seen your type before,” the Commandant said, speaking in a tone that was neither loud nor quiet. He used his hand to brush the glop of mush from his uniform onto the floor of Ashti’s cell, brushing the mess off in a single swipe. “You may think you’ve won this part of the battle, but in the end, you will have lost. You have already lost. There is always at least one like you in each of the camps.” He sat down on one edge of Ashti’s bed. Ashti backed away on the bed, a new fear coming into her eyes.
But the Commandant simply shook his head. “I will not touch you. The Emperor has claimed you, and I value my comfort and my life too much to touch you. But I will show you what’s going to happen to you if you keep this up.” He produced a tablet from his pocket, and tapped it to pull up the images stored on it. He waited until he had Ashti’s attention, then swiped through the images slowly, one by one, showing her various women, whose faces or extremities had been brutally scarred or amputated. One was marked with a deep scar on her back, a lightsaber scar. Another had her hands amputated at the wrists. A third had her teeth knocked out. A fourth bore hideous scars on her face. The images of brutality were repeated, with different women. Ashti stared at the images, horror-struck.
“These injuries, these punishments, have not interfered with these women’s abilities to breed.” He paused to let his words sink in. “You understand?” the Commandant asked.
Ashti nodded.
“Good.” He put the tablet away and looked at her. “Now I will tell you something. Something you would probably figure out on your own, eventually, but my telling you now may save yourself or one of the other women—and there will be more coming—from some of the punishments you just saw. The Emperor asks for total and complete cooperation and obedience. Demands it, even. He’ll say that’s what he wants. He may even believe it. But obedience is not what he really wants. What the Emperor really wants is someone like you, someone he can punish. He enjoys the punishment, not the obedience. It is the act of inflicting pain where he takes his pleasure, not in acquiescence, no matter what he may say or even, perhaps, think. He enjoys hurting someone like you, because he can get away with causing that pain openly. He will say it’s for the ‘good of the Empire’ to punish those who defy him, when really, it’s his own lusts he seeks to satisfy. And if there is no major infraction for which he can justify one of his punishments, he will sometimes find minor ones, in order to inflict and excuse his punishments. In that case, it is women like your friend in the next cell who will suffer the most.”
Ashti glanced in the direction of Gemma’s cell.
“Now, I will tell you this,” the Commandant said. “The Emperor enjoys causing his pains, but he is also aware that he has an audience in the guards, and to a lesser consequence, in the prisoners. That audience is important to him. He craves approval. If he tries to punish when there is no infraction, invents excuses that are too blatant, there will be murmurs. There are already murmurs he can’t control. My advice to you is this: keep the women in line. As one of the first here, one who is not so much of a coward as your poor friend over there, the women may look to you as their leader. Keep them in line. Ensure that all of the Emperor’s orders are faithfully followed to the letter, and eventually he will become bored. He will turn his attentions elsewhere, and leave you women in this camp alone. You will still undergo the medical treatments, but the frequency of his personal visits, and thus the punishments, will lessen. I’ll tell you this, too. Even though I don’t always like what the Emperor does, I will always follow my orders. My current orders are to ensure your compliance. How I follow those orders is up to me, which is why I’ve given you this warning.”
The Commandant stood up and strode to the door, then paused and turned back to her. “One last piece of advice: if you are compliant, the Emperor may grant you small favors. Small tubes of pain relief cream or softening agents. A small sewing kit. A week’s better food for yourself, or one better meal for all the women. Things like that. Have your women think about their requests in advance, so they know what to ask for. Nothing too big, mind, or you may be punished for being too greedy. And only ask if the Emperor gives you leave.” He opened the door, then strode out, and didn’t look back.
.
.
.
.
The next morning, the “treatments” were begun. Gemma and Ashti were taken to the medical area just off the main entrance to the “dormitory,” strapped to chairs, and injected with various substances. This was done several times a day. Ashti was less confrontational after the Commandant’s “chat,” with her. Both girls still fought reflexively against being put in the chairs and restraints, but this was apparently seen as expected.
At first, the drugs they were injected with were designed to synchronize the menstrual cycles, with the side-effect that they induced hot flashes. That wasn’t too awful. But then the drugs were changed to ones that would stimulate their ovaries and prepare their uteruses for implantation. These were careful combinations of hormones and drugs specifically tailored to each woman. Their blood was drawn and checked daily. Everything was done so that the Emperor could time his visits for maximum efficiency. The side effect of the drugs was that the women felt sick, but none of the doctors seemed to care.
Finally, all the preparations had been done, everything was in readiness, and the Emperor’s first visit to Camp Quartus was imminent.
The Commandant looked at the bound, struggling, gagged woman, and frowned. He moved to the other, the younger one, the virgin, and studied her, as well. A girl, really. Seemed a shame, but that was none of his business. The chit couldn’t even stand on her own feet. “Your name?” he asked.
“G-Gemma,” she stammered. “G-Gemma Pa-Pa-vi-va.”
The Commandant glanced at his secretary, who made a notation on his tablet. “The other?” he asked his secretary.
“Vader said her name was Ashti Ranko.”
The Commandant studied the women in turn again a moment longer, then stepped back to address them both together. He spread his arms in a grandiose gesture. “Welcome, ladies. And congratulations at being brought to Camp Quartus, Among all of the Emperor’s subjects, you are among the few chosen ones. You have been chosen. The Emperor needs a male heir to assure the continuation of the Empire, and one of you may be the lucky one who provides that heir. This is now your only purpose in life, to produce a male heir for the greater good of the Empire. You will be given food, shelter, everything that you need to maintain your life. You will be bred to his Imperial Majesty—”
The bound woman, older than the virgin by perhaps a half-dozen years, renewed her struggles against the stormtroopers who held her. The Commandant ignored the fight she put up. “You will be bred to His Imperial Majesty, either directly, at His Majesty’s pleasure, or through medical means. You will become pregnant. Female offspring will be terminated as early as possible so that you may start your reproductive cycles again as quickly as possible. Male offspring will be fully gestated. You will give birth to these male children, and care for them until such time as the Emperor sees fit either to terminate them, or oversee their development personally. If you are cooperative, you will be well-treated. If you resist—” here he looked at the older bound woman “—you will find that the punishment is severe. I have served at two other camps like this one, until I was recently transferred here and promoted to Commandant in order to see to the establishment and smooth operation of this camp. Believe me, I have seen it all before. Any transgression that occurs, occurs only once. Nothing will be done to interfere with your ability to breed, but otherwise your bodies are subject to the whims of the Emperor, and he can—and will—be cruel. Your bodies belong to him now. Remember that. The more cooperative you are, the more readily you obey his commands, the kinder he will be towards you, and the easier your life within the walls of this camp will be. If you are uncooperative, you will be punished, and compelled to abide with his instructions in one way or another. His commands will be obeyed, with or without your cooperation. In the end, you will have no choice. But if you accept your situation and comply with the Emperor’s demands, you will find things to be…more bearable than otherwise.
The Commandant began pacing in front of the women, looking not at them, but at the space in front of his eyes. “The Emperor is due to arrive in a few weeks, in order to personally oversee your first impregnations. In the meantime, your cycles will be synched, and your bodies otherwise prepared for his arrival. I understand that the first cycle can be…somewhat uncomfortable, but after the first time, the process gets a little easier. Remember that what you experience here, what is done to you, is done for the good of the Empire. Everything here is done for the good of the Empire.”
He stopped and regarded the women again. “Tomorrow you will begin the treatments. That is all.”
He waved a hand, and the stormtroopers dragged the girls from his office down a corridor to the cellblock, which they called a “dormitory.” There were no bars or locks on the doors aside from the fortified entrance, but the fortified entrance and lack of windows made it clear that it was a prison nonetheless. The stormtroopers threw Ashti onto the bed of the first cell, and Gemma onto the bed of the cell of the second. Then one of the stormtroopers tossed a key onto Gemma's cot. “You may release your friend when we’re gone.”
Gemma heard their footsteps retreat, and the main door to the cellblock “dormitory” area closed. Now that they were gone, Gemma found that she was able to use her legs again, and ran to the room next door. She quickly undid the binders. “You okay?”
The older prisoner, Ashti, undid the gag herself and threw it across the room with a vengeance. “Those bastards!”
“Yes,” Gemma agreed.
“They killed my husband! I’m going to kill them! I swear I’m going to kill them all!”
“You heard what the Commandant said…”
“I heard. But I’m not going down without a fight. Those bastards!”
Later, the stormtroopers returned to the cellblock, and found the pair huddled on Ashti’s bed, holding each other.
“Time for dinner,” one of the stormtroopers said.
Gemma rose. She hadn’t been given any food since she’d been captured, and she was hungry. Meanwhile, Ashti had to be hauled by two of the stormtroopers, and was pushed onto a seat by a third. Gemma sat at the place indicated, next to Ashti, and plates with piles of white mush were set in front of both her and Ashti.
There were no spoons. Gemma was forced to use her fingers as a spoon.
“Eat!” one of the stormtroopers ordered Ashti.
Ashti sat there, forced to remain in her seat by the stormtroopers, but she refused to touch the food.
Gemma stopped eating her own food.
“Eat!” the guard repeated.
One of the stormtroopers produced a device that, when he touched Ashti with it, caused her to cry out in pain. She fell from her seat, was hauled back into it, and ordered to eat for the third time. This time Ashti threw the plate with the gruel face-down onto the floor. She was zapped with the “correction” tool again, and ordered to eat the food off the floor where it had landed.
By this time, the Commandant had been called. He took the device from the stormtrooper, grabbed Gemma’s arm, and held the device an inch from Gemma’s skin.
Gemma, by now, was crying and cowering, and a stormtrooper held her in her place by simply pressing a hand firmly onto her shoulder.
The threat was clear, without the Commandant saying a word. If Ashti didn’t eat, Gemma would suffer the consequences.
Finally, Ashti knelt down and scooped the gruel off the floor with her fingers, and put it into her mouth.
The Commandant glanced at Gemma, who had stopped eating, and Gemma understood what he wanted. She scooped more food from her plate into her mouth, and forced herself to swallow it, trembling the whole while.
“I told you,” the Commandant said, satisfied that the pair of women were finally both eating, “one way or another, you will cooperate.”
He stood and watched them finish their food, and motioned for the stormtroopers to return them to their cells, and followed them.
It took three guards to drag Ashti.
Once the guards had thrown Ashti onto her bed, the Commandant motioned for the guards to leave. As he started to follow them, Ashti spat the last mouthful of gruel she’d been saving in her mouth onto the Commandant’s impeccable uniform.
The guards started back towards Ashti, but the Commandant waved them off. Ashti sat on her bed, with a gleam of triumph in her eyes, as the Commandant walked over to the door and closed it, with the stormtroopers on the other side.
He was alone with Ashti now.
The stormtroopers waited outside the closed door, ready to rush into the cell if needed.
The Commandant stood in front of Ashti, regarding her coolly. “I’ve seen your type before,” the Commandant said, speaking in a tone that was neither loud nor quiet. He used his hand to brush the glop of mush from his uniform onto the floor of Ashti’s cell, brushing the mess off in a single swipe. “You may think you’ve won this part of the battle, but in the end, you will have lost. You have already lost. There is always at least one like you in each of the camps.” He sat down on one edge of Ashti’s bed. Ashti backed away on the bed, a new fear coming into her eyes.
But the Commandant simply shook his head. “I will not touch you. The Emperor has claimed you, and I value my comfort and my life too much to touch you. But I will show you what’s going to happen to you if you keep this up.” He produced a tablet from his pocket, and tapped it to pull up the images stored on it. He waited until he had Ashti’s attention, then swiped through the images slowly, one by one, showing her various women, whose faces or extremities had been brutally scarred or amputated. One was marked with a deep scar on her back, a lightsaber scar. Another had her hands amputated at the wrists. A third had her teeth knocked out. A fourth bore hideous scars on her face. The images of brutality were repeated, with different women. Ashti stared at the images, horror-struck.
“These injuries, these punishments, have not interfered with these women’s abilities to breed.” He paused to let his words sink in. “You understand?” the Commandant asked.
Ashti nodded.
“Good.” He put the tablet away and looked at her. “Now I will tell you something. Something you would probably figure out on your own, eventually, but my telling you now may save yourself or one of the other women—and there will be more coming—from some of the punishments you just saw. The Emperor asks for total and complete cooperation and obedience. Demands it, even. He’ll say that’s what he wants. He may even believe it. But obedience is not what he really wants. What the Emperor really wants is someone like you, someone he can punish. He enjoys the punishment, not the obedience. It is the act of inflicting pain where he takes his pleasure, not in acquiescence, no matter what he may say or even, perhaps, think. He enjoys hurting someone like you, because he can get away with causing that pain openly. He will say it’s for the ‘good of the Empire’ to punish those who defy him, when really, it’s his own lusts he seeks to satisfy. And if there is no major infraction for which he can justify one of his punishments, he will sometimes find minor ones, in order to inflict and excuse his punishments. In that case, it is women like your friend in the next cell who will suffer the most.”
Ashti glanced in the direction of Gemma’s cell.
“Now, I will tell you this,” the Commandant said. “The Emperor enjoys causing his pains, but he is also aware that he has an audience in the guards, and to a lesser consequence, in the prisoners. That audience is important to him. He craves approval. If he tries to punish when there is no infraction, invents excuses that are too blatant, there will be murmurs. There are already murmurs he can’t control. My advice to you is this: keep the women in line. As one of the first here, one who is not so much of a coward as your poor friend over there, the women may look to you as their leader. Keep them in line. Ensure that all of the Emperor’s orders are faithfully followed to the letter, and eventually he will become bored. He will turn his attentions elsewhere, and leave you women in this camp alone. You will still undergo the medical treatments, but the frequency of his personal visits, and thus the punishments, will lessen. I’ll tell you this, too. Even though I don’t always like what the Emperor does, I will always follow my orders. My current orders are to ensure your compliance. How I follow those orders is up to me, which is why I’ve given you this warning.”
The Commandant stood up and strode to the door, then paused and turned back to her. “One last piece of advice: if you are compliant, the Emperor may grant you small favors. Small tubes of pain relief cream or softening agents. A small sewing kit. A week’s better food for yourself, or one better meal for all the women. Things like that. Have your women think about their requests in advance, so they know what to ask for. Nothing too big, mind, or you may be punished for being too greedy. And only ask if the Emperor gives you leave.” He opened the door, then strode out, and didn’t look back.
.
.
.
.
The next morning, the “treatments” were begun. Gemma and Ashti were taken to the medical area just off the main entrance to the “dormitory,” strapped to chairs, and injected with various substances. This was done several times a day. Ashti was less confrontational after the Commandant’s “chat,” with her. Both girls still fought reflexively against being put in the chairs and restraints, but this was apparently seen as expected.
At first, the drugs they were injected with were designed to synchronize the menstrual cycles, with the side-effect that they induced hot flashes. That wasn’t too awful. But then the drugs were changed to ones that would stimulate their ovaries and prepare their uteruses for implantation. These were careful combinations of hormones and drugs specifically tailored to each woman. Their blood was drawn and checked daily. Everything was done so that the Emperor could time his visits for maximum efficiency. The side effect of the drugs was that the women felt sick, but none of the doctors seemed to care.
Finally, all the preparations had been done, everything was in readiness, and the Emperor’s first visit to Camp Quartus was imminent.
-----
Chapter Five--"The Emperor"
The girls were dragged outside to the landing area in front of the complex, and forced to stand and await the arrival of the Imperial shuttle. Each girl had several stormtroopers assigned to her. Those who weren’t actively restraining Ashti or supporting Gemma stood behind the women and were ready to act if either female presented any trouble. Gemma was held in place by a single large stormtrooper, because her legs were in danger of failing her again. Ashti was gagged, with her hands bound behind her. A stormtrooper stood to each side of her, holding her up by her upper arms. The remaining stormtroopers assigned to the camp, along with the Commandant and the few uniformed administration officers waited by where the Emperor’s shuttle would land.
Finally, the Imperial shuttle approached and landed, the gangplank was lowered, and a phalanx of crimson-clad guards descended and formed a corridor at the bottom of the ramp.
Then the Emperor descended, followed by the Sith Lord Darth Vader. Behind them were four civilian woman dressed in flowing robes but with hard faces, and behind them were four uniformed porters bearing various packages loaded on repulsor lifts.
At the sight of Vader, Gemma’s legs gave way completely, and she had to be held up entirely. She couldn’t help the whimper that escaped from her throat.
The Emperor and Vader approached the small line-up of Gemma and Ashti, with their stormtrooper guards, and the Commandant fell in behind the Emperor and Vader.
The Emperor stopped in front of Ashti, and raked his eyes over Ashti from head to toe, and then back up. Ashti’s gaze met his, and there was pure hatred in her eyes.
Which made the Emperor smile.
“Tell me about her,” the Emperor said.
The Commandant stepped forward. “Her name is Ashti Ranko. Age, approximately twenty-one in standard. Previously married. Her husband was killed when she was captured. Pregnant when she arrived. Of course, that pregnancy was terminated immediately, per your standard instructions.”
Gemma started, and raised her eyes to look at her friend. She hadn’t known Ashti had been pregnant,
“Talent?” the Emperor asked.
This time it was Vader who answered. “A psychometrist. The facility is new, so there will be nothing for her to learn here. She was a young student at the Jedi Academy at the time of the Purge, which she somehow escaped.”
“Ah.”
He stepped to Gemma next, and Vader and the Commandant followed. He studied Gemma the way he had studied Ashti, but he did not seem at all pleased by the girl’s skinny, gawky form. Unlike Ashti, Gemma could not meet those evil eyes. “This one?” the Emperor asked.
“Gemma Paviva. Age approximately fifteen in standard. Intact.”
The Emperor smiled again. The girl was fairly plain as far as her looks went, but as a general rule, he found virgins…stimulating. “Talent?” he asked
Vader answered. “Believed to be a Seer. She was found with the Jedi Master Chu.”
Gemma whimpered.
The Emperor’s smile grew. He turned back to his aides. “Prepare them,” he said. “I’ll service this one first,” he indicated Gemma, “and the other in the morning.” The Emperor turned to the Commandant. “Have a meal sent to my quarters. Notify me when the first girl is ready.”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
Gemma’s stormtroopers carried her upright, so that it almost seemed as if she was walking on her own, back inside the complex. They took her to an area she hadn’t been to before, not towards the cellblock, or the medical bay, or the dining room, but to a completely different area. Gemma and the stormtroopers were followed by two of the female attendants, and then two of the porters, with their packages. She was taken to a large room with a large bathtub, almost a swimming pool, filled with very warm scented water. She’d had to be supported the entire way, lifted by her arms, by two of the stormtroopers.
In that preparation chamber, Gemma had been stripped naked, deposited into the bathtub by a stormtrooper, who then left the room. Then she was thoroughly scrubbed, including her hair, by the female attendants, until her skin was almost raw and her hair gleamed. Gemma made no protest. She was too terrified.
Eventually , one of the stormtroopers was called back into the room, and Gemma was pulled back out of the tub and dressed in some sort of fancy costume, with all sorts of fasteners in the front and back. Then she was deposited into a chair and her hair was done up in an elaborate style, with all sorts of ornamentations added. She was made to stand in front of a mirror, but she couldn’t look at herself.
Then her wrists were bound, and she was carried to a large extravagantly and richly decorated bedroom. She was pushed to sit and then lie down on the bed, which was already turned down. The binders were removed, and then one of her wrists was attached to the headboard by a binder that seemed part of the bed’s design. Then the other wrist was attached in similar fashion to another binder. The two binders were brought together at the center of the headboard. Then the attendants left her there, alone, to await her fate.
She knew what was coming next. She’d foreseen it all.
The room was cold, the floor had been cold on her bare feet, the air cold washed over her skin that was exposed where the fancy costume didn’t cover her.
She didn’t move.
All too soon, the Emperor, dressed in a fancy robe, entered the chamber. The stormtroopers who had accompanied him remained outside of the room.
Gemma started crying.
The Emperor walked over to the bed and stood over her. “You will cease that annoying noise,” he said. “You should be honored to have been chosen by your Emperor!”
Gemma tried to stop, she really did, but couldn’t seem to manage it, especially not when the Emperor made motions with his hand, and the fasteners in the front of her costume started slowly undoing themselves from the neck downward, one by one, without his physically touching them. Another sob pushed its way out of her throat.
All at once, she couldn't make any sound—no sound at all—because she couldn’t breathe. Her bound hands jerked their binders as she tried to claw at her throat in a panic.
The Emperor watched her for a few seconds, a minute, two minutes, allowing the panic to grow. But before she could pass out, he spoke. “You understand?”
Mutely, she nodded.
“Good.” He released his choke-hold, allowed her a few seconds to pant, then made a motion, and one of the binders released her wrist. Her hand flew to her throat as she gasped wordlessly.
He took her free wrist, pulled it away from her throat, and pressed it into the pillow beside her head before letting it go. His wordless instructions were clear. She was not to move.
Gemma didn’t move. Her breath continued coming in rapid, shallow pants, as if she had just run a long distance. The Emperor’s eyes raked down her body slowly. The rest of the fasteners came undone, one by one, and the garment, seemingly by itself, slowly parted and spread open and lay on each side of her, exposing her to him completely. Gemma closed her eyes.
“Look at me!” the Emperor ordered.
She forced her eyes open again and looked at him. The Emperor stood next to the bed and spread his arms wide. The fastenings of his robe undid themselves, seemingly of their own accord, and the robe spread open, exposing him to her. His engorged member, far larger than any erect penis she had seen in any of the images Master Chu had shown her when trying to prepare her for this moment, jutted towards her in all its disgusting glory. She would learn later that the Emperor usually took “enhancement” drugs to increase his size, hardness, and stamina. It made his member much more huge compared to the normal erect genitalia Gemma had studied, a size meant for overwhelming invasion and conquering rather than gentle loving persuasion.
Gemma’s ragged breathing grew faster as her terror increased.
The Emperor’s robes fell to the floor.
He climbed onto the bed next to her, and then a rough hand mauled each breast in turn. The hand slid down to her most private area where her legs joined, and lingered there for a moment. Then the hand slid lower still, and a finger pressed into her folds, checking her wetness, to see if the drugs had done their job.
It was for his own pleasure, not hers. He needed a certain amount of wetness for his own comfort. He knew there would be more wetness—blood—shortly, but he also liked to pretend that she would, to a certain extent, “willingly” receive him.
“Open your legs,” the Emperor ordered. She could smell his putrid breath, his face inches from hers.
She obeyed, trembling fearfully.
Then she felt the Emperor’s weight on top of her. His leg pushed her legs wider apart. Then, all at once, a hard, deep, jabbing bludgeon thrust through her tender barriers, ramming through into her sacred places, invading her as she had never been invaded before, ripping her soft, tender flesh.
She couldn’t help the whimper that came out.
Immediately, the choke hold returned, and remained there while the Emperor mercilessly rammed his ruthless rocklike engorgement into her private place repeatedly, as she fought vainly against the chokehold and excruciating invasion.
She had almost passed out before he made a groan of pleasure and finally stopped thrusting, releasing the choke-hold as he did. She drew great, heaving breaths and resisted trying to react to the intense physical pain his invasion had caused. But her body trembled uncontrollably.
Then her mouth was invaded, and she felt and tasted the putrid tongue he pushed into her. Was this was supposed to be a “kiss”? Gemma resisted the impulse to bite, or to make a sound, and after a moment, that putrid tongue, too, withdrew. “Very good,” he whispered. “You have done well.” Then he touched her cheek in what might have been intended as a caress. She fought not to shudder. Then he rolled off her, and his hand stretched across her pubic region, outside the area of her vagina. She could feel the ejaculate condensing inside her. Then the hand pressed slowly upward on her body, stopping over where her cervix was. She could feel the ejaculate squeeze past the cervix. Then his hand pushed farther upward still, pushing the ejaculate into her womb, and from there into her fallopian tubes, where thanks to the fertility drugs that had been forced on her, there was an egg already waiting for him.
The Emperor was a telekin—gifted with telekinesis enough to speed up the fertilization process. But he didn't know Gemma's true gift. No one else did, except Master Chu, and Chu was now dead. Even her father hadn't known, as it hadn't become apparent until after he had died.
“That should do,” the Emperor murmured in his grating voice. Then he rolled onto his back, and, after a few minutes, fell asleep. Gemma listened to him snore, unable to move, breathing in the putrid smell of his decaying flesh, a smell that would grow worse over the years.
The rape concluded, Gemma's virginity breached, and the pregnancy assured, the Emperor now slept soundly.
Gemma reached her free hand down to the newly violated area, and found a great deal of warm wet substance, which she knew was her own blood, from both the virgin barrier that had been breached, and the rips and tears that the Emperor’s massive rock-shaft had created when it forced its way into her delicate, sensitive flesh again and again, and tore it to shreds.
She closed her legs tightly and tried to staunch the bleeding with pressure alone. Master Chu had warned her not to try to do more, not with the Emperor so near. The pain was almost unbearable.
Almost.
.
.
.
.
In the morning, Gemma was still wide awake, still lying in the same position, had not slept at all, when a servant knocked on the door and then entered with the Emperor’s breakfast tray, which was set on a table next to the bed. The servant left. The Emperor sat up, stretched, and fell to eating. There was a capsule on the tray next to the food, and he took this, swallowing it down with his juice, and returned to eating. After quite a few bites, he looked at Gemma again, and made a vague motion toward the food.
Gem gave her head a tiny shake.
The Emperor shrugged, and went back to his eating.
All without either of them saying a word.
When he’d had his fill, he threw his robe on over his naked body, tied it around his waist, stuck his disgusting tongue into her mouth one more time, and left.
Presumably to do it all over again with Ashti.
Gemma was still attached to the bed by the binder at one wrist. Her elegant and hated costume lay in open disorder around her, having exposed her body to the Emperor’s view and molestation when he’d undone the fastenings. When the Emperor was gone, Gemma closed it around herself as best she could with one wrist still bound. Struggling against the pain and the nausea, she rolled so that she could hook a leg of the table with her foot and pull it towards her, and with her free hand, crammed as much of the Emperor’s scraps as she could manage into her mouth as quickly as she could. She needed it for strength. It was the first food that wasn’t mushy gruel that she’d had in the weeks since she'd been captured. But she refused to let the Emperor think that she would be grateful to him in any way, so she had refused it when offered.
Before long, one of her female attendants returned fastened her costume, then called for a stormtrooper, who unlocked her binder, and half-carried her to a fancy lavatory where she could finally relieve herself. She tried to clean up some of the blood that was still leaking from her vulva, and then was allowed to change out of the despised rape-costume back into ordinary clothes, the prison garb she'd been issued. Her urine was bloody, of course, and everything was so painful she couldn’t take more than a couple of shuffling steps before she had to stop because of the pain. The stormtrooper unceremoniously picked her up and carried her, first to the medical bay, where she was examined, and where the only relief she was given was stitches to repair some of the damage and a spray meant to speed up the healing process. Nothing to block the pain—nor did they give her any blocker when they had sewed the stitches. Then she was carried back to her cot and dumped there.
There was a lot of blood on her tunic, some on the armor of the stormtrooper who had carried her, and a bit on her cot.
Was this to be her life, now? She wondered if she should try to end it. She could. She knew how. But Master Chu had warned her not to. Told her that—eventually, someday—she would have a greater purpose than this. She could block some of the pain, even without medicines, but if the Emperor suspected she had that ability, things would go worse for her. She dared not block more than the tiniest bit, just enough so that she could think a little more clearly.
When she’d finally seen Ashti again, Ashti was rubbing her throat with one hand, clutching at her pubis with the other, and could barely say anything even in a whisper. Gemma learned later that Ashti had tried to fight the Emperor at first, and he had choked her into unconsciousness. Then the Emperor had waited for her to regain her senses, used his powers to cause both of the ankle binders to come out of the bed, attach themselves to Ashti, and then pulled all the binders so tightly that she couldn’t move.
And then he had raped her anyway.
.
.
.
.
At the end of the next day, the two women were dragged outside, the pains from their torn flesh from the rapes ignored. They were forced to stand and wait for the Emperor’s departure in the area in front of the Imperial shuttle. The Crimson Guard and the Emperor’s stormtrooper escort stood at attention across from them. The stormtroopers from the camp were either stationed behind Gemma and Ashti, or lined up between the women and the shuttle to form an honor guard across from the Emperor’s own guard. The officers flanked their men. The Commandant came out of the building complex, strode to the shuttle, and stood off to one side of the shuttle gangplank, bearing a tool of some sort across the palms of both hands as if a ceremonial offering.
Eventually, the Emperor emerged from the building complex, with Vader walking at his side. The Emperor was talking to him. Gemma caught a snatch of Vader’s reply—something about a “girl” who was “hiding in a forest” and the Emperor’s reply of “Burn it down, if you must, but I want her found. Preferably alive.”
“Yes, my Master,” Vader had replied. Then the Emperor stopped in front of Gemma and Ashti while Vader continued walking and took up a position on the other side of the shuttle’s ramp from the Commandant. Vader unhooked his lightsaber and placed it across his palms in the same ceremonial offering way that the Commandant held his tool.
At the sight of the Emperor, the pains in Gemma’s body from the abuse she had received seemed to become more profound. She fought to keep her hands from clutching at herself at the top of the juncture between her legs but couldn’t help the all-over trembling that caused her to have to be supported by the stormtrooper behind her in order to keep upright.
The Emperor’s lips curled into a cruel smile. He gestured with one hand—indicating the Commandant’s side of the ramp—and immediately the Commandant stepped forward bearing his tool, and stopped just behind the Emperor.
“You are mine now,” the Emperor whispered for Gemma’s ears alone. Then he turned to the Commandant, and Gemma could see that the tool was a laser drill. The laser drill flew from the Commandant’s upturned palms into the Emperor’s hand. The Emperor motioned with his other hand toward the stormtroopers, and four of them moved forward to stand two to each side of Gemma, adding to the one that was behind her, holding her up.
The Emperor swept his eyes across the assemblage to address them. “She is mine now! Any man who violates the mark of Palpatine does so at the cost of his life!” Then he turned to face Gemma again and raised his free hand to her cheek, caressing her.
Gemma fought not to flinch.
“Sorry, my Dear,” he whispered, smiling. “But this is for your own protection. Soldiers in a camp with women—well, you never know what might happen. This will ensure that nothing does.”
He released her cheek and gestured at her leg, and Gemma felt her skirt lifting to the top of her thigh by the Emperor’s Force energy. What—? Surely he didn’t mean to rape her again out here in front of everybody? Then the stormtroopers at her sides seized legs while the one behind her tightened his grip, and they held her immobile. The Emperor activated the laser drill and knelt on one knee in front of her. Gemma’s eyes widened in horror as she realized meant to use the drill on her flesh!
Off to her side, Ashti screamed “No!” through her gag, and started trying to fight off her guards. “No!” With the gag, it sounded like "Oh!" But everyone knew what the actual word was.
Ashti’s next scream was cut off as the Emperor raised his free hand towards her and choked the breath from her, using the Force.
Gemma couldn’t stop her own scream of agony when the thin beam of energy from the tool touched the skin of her thigh. Her screams continued, mingling with the stench of seared flesh, as the Emperor inscribed a line several inches long on the outside of her left thigh, then a half-circle from the top of the line to about its middle, to make a ragged “P.” It wasn’t smooth, because despite the iron grip of the stormtroopers holding her, she had been unable to keep herself from reflexively trying to jerk away. But the stormtroopers held her securely enough that the "P" was clearly legible.
Gemma's screams reduced to whimpering cries when he was done. The Emperor released his Force-hold on her skirt, and the stormtroopers released her legs, leaving her sagging and held up only by the stormtrooper from behind—all of her own strength having left her.
The Emperor rose, and kissed her cheek. “For your own safety and protection,” he said.
Then he strode to Ashti, who had nearly passed out from lack of air due to his choke-hold. He released the choke-hold, and she gasped through the gag, panting through both her mouth and her nose.
“This one—” he announced to all “—is also mine! Any man who violates the mark of Palpatine shall forfeit his life!”
Four of the stormtroopers moved forward and tried to grab Ashti’s arms and legs. Knowing what was coming, Ashti fought with every ounce of her strength, and it took two more stormtroopers, six in all, to overpower her and hold her immobile. The Emperor didn’t bother choking Ashti’s scream as he now seared her flesh, but seemed to relish the sound. The Emperor took his time inscribing Ashti’s leg, and the finished “P” was twice the size of Gemma’s, and had taken more than four times as long to produce.
When he was done, the Emperor rose and put his face near Ashti’s. His smile was broad. “For your own safety and protection,” he repeated. He didn’t bother caressing her or kissing her cheek.
He returned the laser drill to the Commandant's outstretched hands and moved back to Gemma, who was still crying and whimpering. “You have pleased me,” he said. “You may ask for a boon.”
Ashti had warned her that he might do this, and Gemma had her answer ready. “P-p-please—Gemma gasped. “Something for the pain…?”
The Emperor smiled indulgently, then glanced at the Commandant, who nodded once.
The Emperor glanced at Ashti, who glared at him with hate-filled eyes, while gasping from the new pain in her leg, adding to the already existing pains from the rape.
The Emperor’s smile broadened. He didn’t offer Ashti any "boons."
He lingered for a minute or two longer, until the sound of Gemma’s whimpering sobs started to give him a headache, then strode to his shuttle and went up the gangplank, followed by Vader, the Crimson Guard, and then the rest of the contingent.
Ashti and Gemma were carried back to their cells and dumped on their cots. Neither had the strength to rise and hobble to the other’s cell.
After a short time, as Gemma curled on her cot simultaneously pressing her crotch and her thigh, there was a sharp rap on Gemma’s door frame. When she looked up, the Commandant was standing there. He threw a small tube of cream at her, then turned on his heel and left.
Experimentally, Gemma spread the tiniest bit of cream she could manage over her vulva and then over her burn, to ascertain the effects of the cream. Then, with difficulty, she made her way to Ashti’s cell, to share some of the precious cream with her friend, who needed it even more than she did.
The girls were dragged outside to the landing area in front of the complex, and forced to stand and await the arrival of the Imperial shuttle. Each girl had several stormtroopers assigned to her. Those who weren’t actively restraining Ashti or supporting Gemma stood behind the women and were ready to act if either female presented any trouble. Gemma was held in place by a single large stormtrooper, because her legs were in danger of failing her again. Ashti was gagged, with her hands bound behind her. A stormtrooper stood to each side of her, holding her up by her upper arms. The remaining stormtroopers assigned to the camp, along with the Commandant and the few uniformed administration officers waited by where the Emperor’s shuttle would land.
Finally, the Imperial shuttle approached and landed, the gangplank was lowered, and a phalanx of crimson-clad guards descended and formed a corridor at the bottom of the ramp.
Then the Emperor descended, followed by the Sith Lord Darth Vader. Behind them were four civilian woman dressed in flowing robes but with hard faces, and behind them were four uniformed porters bearing various packages loaded on repulsor lifts.
At the sight of Vader, Gemma’s legs gave way completely, and she had to be held up entirely. She couldn’t help the whimper that escaped from her throat.
The Emperor and Vader approached the small line-up of Gemma and Ashti, with their stormtrooper guards, and the Commandant fell in behind the Emperor and Vader.
The Emperor stopped in front of Ashti, and raked his eyes over Ashti from head to toe, and then back up. Ashti’s gaze met his, and there was pure hatred in her eyes.
Which made the Emperor smile.
“Tell me about her,” the Emperor said.
The Commandant stepped forward. “Her name is Ashti Ranko. Age, approximately twenty-one in standard. Previously married. Her husband was killed when she was captured. Pregnant when she arrived. Of course, that pregnancy was terminated immediately, per your standard instructions.”
Gemma started, and raised her eyes to look at her friend. She hadn’t known Ashti had been pregnant,
“Talent?” the Emperor asked.
This time it was Vader who answered. “A psychometrist. The facility is new, so there will be nothing for her to learn here. She was a young student at the Jedi Academy at the time of the Purge, which she somehow escaped.”
“Ah.”
He stepped to Gemma next, and Vader and the Commandant followed. He studied Gemma the way he had studied Ashti, but he did not seem at all pleased by the girl’s skinny, gawky form. Unlike Ashti, Gemma could not meet those evil eyes. “This one?” the Emperor asked.
“Gemma Paviva. Age approximately fifteen in standard. Intact.”
The Emperor smiled again. The girl was fairly plain as far as her looks went, but as a general rule, he found virgins…stimulating. “Talent?” he asked
Vader answered. “Believed to be a Seer. She was found with the Jedi Master Chu.”
Gemma whimpered.
The Emperor’s smile grew. He turned back to his aides. “Prepare them,” he said. “I’ll service this one first,” he indicated Gemma, “and the other in the morning.” The Emperor turned to the Commandant. “Have a meal sent to my quarters. Notify me when the first girl is ready.”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
Gemma’s stormtroopers carried her upright, so that it almost seemed as if she was walking on her own, back inside the complex. They took her to an area she hadn’t been to before, not towards the cellblock, or the medical bay, or the dining room, but to a completely different area. Gemma and the stormtroopers were followed by two of the female attendants, and then two of the porters, with their packages. She was taken to a large room with a large bathtub, almost a swimming pool, filled with very warm scented water. She’d had to be supported the entire way, lifted by her arms, by two of the stormtroopers.
In that preparation chamber, Gemma had been stripped naked, deposited into the bathtub by a stormtrooper, who then left the room. Then she was thoroughly scrubbed, including her hair, by the female attendants, until her skin was almost raw and her hair gleamed. Gemma made no protest. She was too terrified.
Eventually , one of the stormtroopers was called back into the room, and Gemma was pulled back out of the tub and dressed in some sort of fancy costume, with all sorts of fasteners in the front and back. Then she was deposited into a chair and her hair was done up in an elaborate style, with all sorts of ornamentations added. She was made to stand in front of a mirror, but she couldn’t look at herself.
Then her wrists were bound, and she was carried to a large extravagantly and richly decorated bedroom. She was pushed to sit and then lie down on the bed, which was already turned down. The binders were removed, and then one of her wrists was attached to the headboard by a binder that seemed part of the bed’s design. Then the other wrist was attached in similar fashion to another binder. The two binders were brought together at the center of the headboard. Then the attendants left her there, alone, to await her fate.
She knew what was coming next. She’d foreseen it all.
The room was cold, the floor had been cold on her bare feet, the air cold washed over her skin that was exposed where the fancy costume didn’t cover her.
She didn’t move.
All too soon, the Emperor, dressed in a fancy robe, entered the chamber. The stormtroopers who had accompanied him remained outside of the room.
Gemma started crying.
The Emperor walked over to the bed and stood over her. “You will cease that annoying noise,” he said. “You should be honored to have been chosen by your Emperor!”
Gemma tried to stop, she really did, but couldn’t seem to manage it, especially not when the Emperor made motions with his hand, and the fasteners in the front of her costume started slowly undoing themselves from the neck downward, one by one, without his physically touching them. Another sob pushed its way out of her throat.
All at once, she couldn't make any sound—no sound at all—because she couldn’t breathe. Her bound hands jerked their binders as she tried to claw at her throat in a panic.
The Emperor watched her for a few seconds, a minute, two minutes, allowing the panic to grow. But before she could pass out, he spoke. “You understand?”
Mutely, she nodded.
“Good.” He released his choke-hold, allowed her a few seconds to pant, then made a motion, and one of the binders released her wrist. Her hand flew to her throat as she gasped wordlessly.
He took her free wrist, pulled it away from her throat, and pressed it into the pillow beside her head before letting it go. His wordless instructions were clear. She was not to move.
Gemma didn’t move. Her breath continued coming in rapid, shallow pants, as if she had just run a long distance. The Emperor’s eyes raked down her body slowly. The rest of the fasteners came undone, one by one, and the garment, seemingly by itself, slowly parted and spread open and lay on each side of her, exposing her to him completely. Gemma closed her eyes.
“Look at me!” the Emperor ordered.
She forced her eyes open again and looked at him. The Emperor stood next to the bed and spread his arms wide. The fastenings of his robe undid themselves, seemingly of their own accord, and the robe spread open, exposing him to her. His engorged member, far larger than any erect penis she had seen in any of the images Master Chu had shown her when trying to prepare her for this moment, jutted towards her in all its disgusting glory. She would learn later that the Emperor usually took “enhancement” drugs to increase his size, hardness, and stamina. It made his member much more huge compared to the normal erect genitalia Gemma had studied, a size meant for overwhelming invasion and conquering rather than gentle loving persuasion.
Gemma’s ragged breathing grew faster as her terror increased.
The Emperor’s robes fell to the floor.
He climbed onto the bed next to her, and then a rough hand mauled each breast in turn. The hand slid down to her most private area where her legs joined, and lingered there for a moment. Then the hand slid lower still, and a finger pressed into her folds, checking her wetness, to see if the drugs had done their job.
It was for his own pleasure, not hers. He needed a certain amount of wetness for his own comfort. He knew there would be more wetness—blood—shortly, but he also liked to pretend that she would, to a certain extent, “willingly” receive him.
“Open your legs,” the Emperor ordered. She could smell his putrid breath, his face inches from hers.
She obeyed, trembling fearfully.
Then she felt the Emperor’s weight on top of her. His leg pushed her legs wider apart. Then, all at once, a hard, deep, jabbing bludgeon thrust through her tender barriers, ramming through into her sacred places, invading her as she had never been invaded before, ripping her soft, tender flesh.
She couldn’t help the whimper that came out.
Immediately, the choke hold returned, and remained there while the Emperor mercilessly rammed his ruthless rocklike engorgement into her private place repeatedly, as she fought vainly against the chokehold and excruciating invasion.
She had almost passed out before he made a groan of pleasure and finally stopped thrusting, releasing the choke-hold as he did. She drew great, heaving breaths and resisted trying to react to the intense physical pain his invasion had caused. But her body trembled uncontrollably.
Then her mouth was invaded, and she felt and tasted the putrid tongue he pushed into her. Was this was supposed to be a “kiss”? Gemma resisted the impulse to bite, or to make a sound, and after a moment, that putrid tongue, too, withdrew. “Very good,” he whispered. “You have done well.” Then he touched her cheek in what might have been intended as a caress. She fought not to shudder. Then he rolled off her, and his hand stretched across her pubic region, outside the area of her vagina. She could feel the ejaculate condensing inside her. Then the hand pressed slowly upward on her body, stopping over where her cervix was. She could feel the ejaculate squeeze past the cervix. Then his hand pushed farther upward still, pushing the ejaculate into her womb, and from there into her fallopian tubes, where thanks to the fertility drugs that had been forced on her, there was an egg already waiting for him.
The Emperor was a telekin—gifted with telekinesis enough to speed up the fertilization process. But he didn't know Gemma's true gift. No one else did, except Master Chu, and Chu was now dead. Even her father hadn't known, as it hadn't become apparent until after he had died.
“That should do,” the Emperor murmured in his grating voice. Then he rolled onto his back, and, after a few minutes, fell asleep. Gemma listened to him snore, unable to move, breathing in the putrid smell of his decaying flesh, a smell that would grow worse over the years.
The rape concluded, Gemma's virginity breached, and the pregnancy assured, the Emperor now slept soundly.
Gemma reached her free hand down to the newly violated area, and found a great deal of warm wet substance, which she knew was her own blood, from both the virgin barrier that had been breached, and the rips and tears that the Emperor’s massive rock-shaft had created when it forced its way into her delicate, sensitive flesh again and again, and tore it to shreds.
She closed her legs tightly and tried to staunch the bleeding with pressure alone. Master Chu had warned her not to try to do more, not with the Emperor so near. The pain was almost unbearable.
Almost.
.
.
.
.
In the morning, Gemma was still wide awake, still lying in the same position, had not slept at all, when a servant knocked on the door and then entered with the Emperor’s breakfast tray, which was set on a table next to the bed. The servant left. The Emperor sat up, stretched, and fell to eating. There was a capsule on the tray next to the food, and he took this, swallowing it down with his juice, and returned to eating. After quite a few bites, he looked at Gemma again, and made a vague motion toward the food.
Gem gave her head a tiny shake.
The Emperor shrugged, and went back to his eating.
All without either of them saying a word.
When he’d had his fill, he threw his robe on over his naked body, tied it around his waist, stuck his disgusting tongue into her mouth one more time, and left.
Presumably to do it all over again with Ashti.
Gemma was still attached to the bed by the binder at one wrist. Her elegant and hated costume lay in open disorder around her, having exposed her body to the Emperor’s view and molestation when he’d undone the fastenings. When the Emperor was gone, Gemma closed it around herself as best she could with one wrist still bound. Struggling against the pain and the nausea, she rolled so that she could hook a leg of the table with her foot and pull it towards her, and with her free hand, crammed as much of the Emperor’s scraps as she could manage into her mouth as quickly as she could. She needed it for strength. It was the first food that wasn’t mushy gruel that she’d had in the weeks since she'd been captured. But she refused to let the Emperor think that she would be grateful to him in any way, so she had refused it when offered.
Before long, one of her female attendants returned fastened her costume, then called for a stormtrooper, who unlocked her binder, and half-carried her to a fancy lavatory where she could finally relieve herself. She tried to clean up some of the blood that was still leaking from her vulva, and then was allowed to change out of the despised rape-costume back into ordinary clothes, the prison garb she'd been issued. Her urine was bloody, of course, and everything was so painful she couldn’t take more than a couple of shuffling steps before she had to stop because of the pain. The stormtrooper unceremoniously picked her up and carried her, first to the medical bay, where she was examined, and where the only relief she was given was stitches to repair some of the damage and a spray meant to speed up the healing process. Nothing to block the pain—nor did they give her any blocker when they had sewed the stitches. Then she was carried back to her cot and dumped there.
There was a lot of blood on her tunic, some on the armor of the stormtrooper who had carried her, and a bit on her cot.
Was this to be her life, now? She wondered if she should try to end it. She could. She knew how. But Master Chu had warned her not to. Told her that—eventually, someday—she would have a greater purpose than this. She could block some of the pain, even without medicines, but if the Emperor suspected she had that ability, things would go worse for her. She dared not block more than the tiniest bit, just enough so that she could think a little more clearly.
When she’d finally seen Ashti again, Ashti was rubbing her throat with one hand, clutching at her pubis with the other, and could barely say anything even in a whisper. Gemma learned later that Ashti had tried to fight the Emperor at first, and he had choked her into unconsciousness. Then the Emperor had waited for her to regain her senses, used his powers to cause both of the ankle binders to come out of the bed, attach themselves to Ashti, and then pulled all the binders so tightly that she couldn’t move.
And then he had raped her anyway.
.
.
.
.
At the end of the next day, the two women were dragged outside, the pains from their torn flesh from the rapes ignored. They were forced to stand and wait for the Emperor’s departure in the area in front of the Imperial shuttle. The Crimson Guard and the Emperor’s stormtrooper escort stood at attention across from them. The stormtroopers from the camp were either stationed behind Gemma and Ashti, or lined up between the women and the shuttle to form an honor guard across from the Emperor’s own guard. The officers flanked their men. The Commandant came out of the building complex, strode to the shuttle, and stood off to one side of the shuttle gangplank, bearing a tool of some sort across the palms of both hands as if a ceremonial offering.
Eventually, the Emperor emerged from the building complex, with Vader walking at his side. The Emperor was talking to him. Gemma caught a snatch of Vader’s reply—something about a “girl” who was “hiding in a forest” and the Emperor’s reply of “Burn it down, if you must, but I want her found. Preferably alive.”
“Yes, my Master,” Vader had replied. Then the Emperor stopped in front of Gemma and Ashti while Vader continued walking and took up a position on the other side of the shuttle’s ramp from the Commandant. Vader unhooked his lightsaber and placed it across his palms in the same ceremonial offering way that the Commandant held his tool.
At the sight of the Emperor, the pains in Gemma’s body from the abuse she had received seemed to become more profound. She fought to keep her hands from clutching at herself at the top of the juncture between her legs but couldn’t help the all-over trembling that caused her to have to be supported by the stormtrooper behind her in order to keep upright.
The Emperor’s lips curled into a cruel smile. He gestured with one hand—indicating the Commandant’s side of the ramp—and immediately the Commandant stepped forward bearing his tool, and stopped just behind the Emperor.
“You are mine now,” the Emperor whispered for Gemma’s ears alone. Then he turned to the Commandant, and Gemma could see that the tool was a laser drill. The laser drill flew from the Commandant’s upturned palms into the Emperor’s hand. The Emperor motioned with his other hand toward the stormtroopers, and four of them moved forward to stand two to each side of Gemma, adding to the one that was behind her, holding her up.
The Emperor swept his eyes across the assemblage to address them. “She is mine now! Any man who violates the mark of Palpatine does so at the cost of his life!” Then he turned to face Gemma again and raised his free hand to her cheek, caressing her.
Gemma fought not to flinch.
“Sorry, my Dear,” he whispered, smiling. “But this is for your own protection. Soldiers in a camp with women—well, you never know what might happen. This will ensure that nothing does.”
He released her cheek and gestured at her leg, and Gemma felt her skirt lifting to the top of her thigh by the Emperor’s Force energy. What—? Surely he didn’t mean to rape her again out here in front of everybody? Then the stormtroopers at her sides seized legs while the one behind her tightened his grip, and they held her immobile. The Emperor activated the laser drill and knelt on one knee in front of her. Gemma’s eyes widened in horror as she realized meant to use the drill on her flesh!
Off to her side, Ashti screamed “No!” through her gag, and started trying to fight off her guards. “No!” With the gag, it sounded like "Oh!" But everyone knew what the actual word was.
Ashti’s next scream was cut off as the Emperor raised his free hand towards her and choked the breath from her, using the Force.
Gemma couldn’t stop her own scream of agony when the thin beam of energy from the tool touched the skin of her thigh. Her screams continued, mingling with the stench of seared flesh, as the Emperor inscribed a line several inches long on the outside of her left thigh, then a half-circle from the top of the line to about its middle, to make a ragged “P.” It wasn’t smooth, because despite the iron grip of the stormtroopers holding her, she had been unable to keep herself from reflexively trying to jerk away. But the stormtroopers held her securely enough that the "P" was clearly legible.
Gemma's screams reduced to whimpering cries when he was done. The Emperor released his Force-hold on her skirt, and the stormtroopers released her legs, leaving her sagging and held up only by the stormtrooper from behind—all of her own strength having left her.
The Emperor rose, and kissed her cheek. “For your own safety and protection,” he said.
Then he strode to Ashti, who had nearly passed out from lack of air due to his choke-hold. He released the choke-hold, and she gasped through the gag, panting through both her mouth and her nose.
“This one—” he announced to all “—is also mine! Any man who violates the mark of Palpatine shall forfeit his life!”
Four of the stormtroopers moved forward and tried to grab Ashti’s arms and legs. Knowing what was coming, Ashti fought with every ounce of her strength, and it took two more stormtroopers, six in all, to overpower her and hold her immobile. The Emperor didn’t bother choking Ashti’s scream as he now seared her flesh, but seemed to relish the sound. The Emperor took his time inscribing Ashti’s leg, and the finished “P” was twice the size of Gemma’s, and had taken more than four times as long to produce.
When he was done, the Emperor rose and put his face near Ashti’s. His smile was broad. “For your own safety and protection,” he repeated. He didn’t bother caressing her or kissing her cheek.
He returned the laser drill to the Commandant's outstretched hands and moved back to Gemma, who was still crying and whimpering. “You have pleased me,” he said. “You may ask for a boon.”
Ashti had warned her that he might do this, and Gemma had her answer ready. “P-p-please—Gemma gasped. “Something for the pain…?”
The Emperor smiled indulgently, then glanced at the Commandant, who nodded once.
The Emperor glanced at Ashti, who glared at him with hate-filled eyes, while gasping from the new pain in her leg, adding to the already existing pains from the rape.
The Emperor’s smile broadened. He didn’t offer Ashti any "boons."
He lingered for a minute or two longer, until the sound of Gemma’s whimpering sobs started to give him a headache, then strode to his shuttle and went up the gangplank, followed by Vader, the Crimson Guard, and then the rest of the contingent.
Ashti and Gemma were carried back to their cells and dumped on their cots. Neither had the strength to rise and hobble to the other’s cell.
After a short time, as Gemma curled on her cot simultaneously pressing her crotch and her thigh, there was a sharp rap on Gemma’s door frame. When she looked up, the Commandant was standing there. He threw a small tube of cream at her, then turned on his heel and left.
Experimentally, Gemma spread the tiniest bit of cream she could manage over her vulva and then over her burn, to ascertain the effects of the cream. Then, with difficulty, she made her way to Ashti’s cell, to share some of the precious cream with her friend, who needed it even more than she did.
-----
Chapter Six--"The Mark of Palpatine"
Still sitting in her chair, Aviva lowered the hem of her tunic, which she had pulled up to the top of her thigh to show Luke and Rupert the mark that the Emperor had made. The light outside was growing dim, and made the dark tent even darker, so the mark was difficult to discern, but they could see enough of the scar to recognize how painful it must have been. “Ashti’s mark was larger and deeper,” she told them.
“We saw it,” Luke replied.
“Of course, all of it was completely unnecessary. No man at the camp would have dared defy the Emperor.” She paused. “I had naively thought that, having been married, Ashti’s injuries to her vulva would not be so great as mine, but I was wrong! They were worse! She told me that marital sex had never been anything like the Emperor's rape, and I was glad to hear that she had known a gentler physical love. Later, we learned that the Emperor took drugs before and during his ‘inspections,’ as they were called—drugs that made his member larger, harder, more brutal than any man’s member would otherwise be. That was the capsule he took with his breakfast before he left off with me to rape Ashti. Those same drugs may have rendered him otherwise impotent when the effect wore off. At least, that was the speculation among the women later. There was only one occasion that I know of when he did not use the drugs, and he had…difficulty…’rising’ to the situation.” She smiled a little. “We could not laugh openly, of course, but in the privacy of our cells…”
“I get the picture,” Luke said.
“It was a very small satisfaction after the brutalities we endured. The soft skin of our vulvas eventually became calloused and leathery due to repeated rips and tears. Eventually we became calloused enough to become more…indifferent to his personal ‘attentions’ to our breedings. That’s when the medical fertilizations began. But there were still the occasional…personal visits from the Emperor.”
Rupert leaned forward, wanting to give comfort to the old woman, but she drew away, and he dropped back. “What was done to you, and to Ashti and the others—those were war-crimes.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “But the Emperor is dead now. Dead for many years.”
“We could…try to go after the Commandant. The other officers. The stormtroopers…”
“The stormtroopers wore their helmets nearly always when they were on duty. Only once did I see them without their helmets, and I was too distracted by…other aspects of the event to take notice of their faces. The officers had largely administrative functions rather than any real contact with the women. The Commandant…may have been nearly as much of a prisoner as we were. In the end, he did not follow the Emperor’s final order, which is why I am able to tell you my story today. To a certain extent…the Commandant respected us. Or Ashti, at least. I once saw him slip her an extra tube of pain cream, when she needed it most. It was taking a great risk, as the inventory was most carefully monitored.” She closed her eyes and leaned back, exhausted from reliving the early days of her nightmare captivity. She let out a long sigh. Rupert started to say something, but Luke shook his head.
After a few long minutes, despite that she didn’t seem to be in a very comfortable position, she began snoring softly.
Quietly, making sure not to touch her, Luke unfastened his cloak and carefully laid it over her. She made a little incoherent sound, and snuggled into its warmth. Luke watched her for a moment, his eyes soft with compassion. Then he rose and moved towards the door, motioning Rupert to follow. He whispered some instructions to the younger man, who nodded, and then quietly slipped out of the tent.
Luke returned to the vehicle seat “couch,” and sat down to wait.
Aviva wasn’t finished telling her story. She had barely begun her story, hadn’t even mentioned Nori yet, but the demanding effort had drained her, and she needed to rest before she could continue.
.
.
.
.
When the old woman next woke, it was morning. She awoke slowly. She breathed in a subtle and familiar—but unexpected—scent, and smiled slightly, thinking herself to be in the midst of a pleasant dream.
The smile changed to a frown as she realized it was not a dream after all, that she was awake. And with that realization came another—that she was not as cold as she usually was when she woke in the mornings.
She opened her eyes.
The mortu Maggie immediately padded to her hand that was dangling from the chair under the blanket, and nuzzled her head under it, eager for a pet.
Aviva obliged.
“Good morning,” Luke said from the shabby “couch” where he and Rupert had rested as best they could, and smiled.
“Good…morning,” she returned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…drop off.” Her voice wasn’t quite as cracked as it had been before she fell asleep.
“You’re forgiven. Gave us a chance organize breakfast,” Luke said.
“Breakfast?” she said, uncomprehendingly.
“Breakfast,” Rupert replied, setting a cup down on her crate-table next to her chair. It was a genuine cup, not a can being used as a cup. And it was filled with a dark steaming beverage. “Coffee?” Rupert asked. He set some packets of sugar and small containers of cream next to the cup. “I wasn’t sure how you liked it.”
Gemma/Aviva looked, saw that Luke and Rupert had similar cups. Then she tentatively reached for her own cup, forgoing adding cream and sugar, but quietly pocketing them. Then she took a small sip. “Oh, this is lovely. Thank you.”
Rupert set a plate—again, an actual plate—with food in front of her. She stared at it.
She set her coffee cup down and reached for the sandwich. She broke off a piece and fed it to Maggie.
“Don’t give her any more than that,” Rupert said. “She’s already eaten.”
Maggie sniffed at the proffered food, thumped her tail weakly, and slowly, gently took it from the old woman’s fingers, then set it on the floor and looked back up at Gemma with soulful eyes.
Rupert laughed. “She’s full, but she doesn’t want to offend you by refusing.”
“Oh,” the old woman said in some surprise.
She struggled out of her seat and limped toward her tent door. “Please excuse me. I have to—"
“Of course,” Luke and Rupert both said, and waited for her to return from her personal business.
When she did, and had doddered back to her chair, she fingered the soft new blanket that had been thrown over her while she’d been sleeping. She took it and wrapped it around herself, savoring the warmth, then sat down. Then she took another small sip of her coffee. “Shall I continue now with my story?”
“Why don’t you finish your breakfast first,” Luke suggested. “We can wait.”
“As you wish.” She took a small bite of her breakfast sandwich, and closed her eyes in rapture. “Oh, this is lovely.”
Luke and Rupert waited patiently while she ate. Finally, she sighed in something like contentment. She had probably not felt so much physical comfort in a very, very long time.
Finally, she took a deep breath, and looked at the two men. “I’m…not entirely sure where to pick up,” she said.
“Why don’t you tell us about Nori?” Rupert suggested.
The face that had been smoothed by a simple meal now twisted into an expression of grief. “Oh, my sweet Nori! My poor, sweet Nori!”
“Or…maybe we can get to her later,” Rupert amended hastily.
“No—no,” the old woman said. “I will tell you about her now…”
Still sitting in her chair, Aviva lowered the hem of her tunic, which she had pulled up to the top of her thigh to show Luke and Rupert the mark that the Emperor had made. The light outside was growing dim, and made the dark tent even darker, so the mark was difficult to discern, but they could see enough of the scar to recognize how painful it must have been. “Ashti’s mark was larger and deeper,” she told them.
“We saw it,” Luke replied.
“Of course, all of it was completely unnecessary. No man at the camp would have dared defy the Emperor.” She paused. “I had naively thought that, having been married, Ashti’s injuries to her vulva would not be so great as mine, but I was wrong! They were worse! She told me that marital sex had never been anything like the Emperor's rape, and I was glad to hear that she had known a gentler physical love. Later, we learned that the Emperor took drugs before and during his ‘inspections,’ as they were called—drugs that made his member larger, harder, more brutal than any man’s member would otherwise be. That was the capsule he took with his breakfast before he left off with me to rape Ashti. Those same drugs may have rendered him otherwise impotent when the effect wore off. At least, that was the speculation among the women later. There was only one occasion that I know of when he did not use the drugs, and he had…difficulty…’rising’ to the situation.” She smiled a little. “We could not laugh openly, of course, but in the privacy of our cells…”
“I get the picture,” Luke said.
“It was a very small satisfaction after the brutalities we endured. The soft skin of our vulvas eventually became calloused and leathery due to repeated rips and tears. Eventually we became calloused enough to become more…indifferent to his personal ‘attentions’ to our breedings. That’s when the medical fertilizations began. But there were still the occasional…personal visits from the Emperor.”
Rupert leaned forward, wanting to give comfort to the old woman, but she drew away, and he dropped back. “What was done to you, and to Ashti and the others—those were war-crimes.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “But the Emperor is dead now. Dead for many years.”
“We could…try to go after the Commandant. The other officers. The stormtroopers…”
“The stormtroopers wore their helmets nearly always when they were on duty. Only once did I see them without their helmets, and I was too distracted by…other aspects of the event to take notice of their faces. The officers had largely administrative functions rather than any real contact with the women. The Commandant…may have been nearly as much of a prisoner as we were. In the end, he did not follow the Emperor’s final order, which is why I am able to tell you my story today. To a certain extent…the Commandant respected us. Or Ashti, at least. I once saw him slip her an extra tube of pain cream, when she needed it most. It was taking a great risk, as the inventory was most carefully monitored.” She closed her eyes and leaned back, exhausted from reliving the early days of her nightmare captivity. She let out a long sigh. Rupert started to say something, but Luke shook his head.
After a few long minutes, despite that she didn’t seem to be in a very comfortable position, she began snoring softly.
Quietly, making sure not to touch her, Luke unfastened his cloak and carefully laid it over her. She made a little incoherent sound, and snuggled into its warmth. Luke watched her for a moment, his eyes soft with compassion. Then he rose and moved towards the door, motioning Rupert to follow. He whispered some instructions to the younger man, who nodded, and then quietly slipped out of the tent.
Luke returned to the vehicle seat “couch,” and sat down to wait.
Aviva wasn’t finished telling her story. She had barely begun her story, hadn’t even mentioned Nori yet, but the demanding effort had drained her, and she needed to rest before she could continue.
.
.
.
.
When the old woman next woke, it was morning. She awoke slowly. She breathed in a subtle and familiar—but unexpected—scent, and smiled slightly, thinking herself to be in the midst of a pleasant dream.
The smile changed to a frown as she realized it was not a dream after all, that she was awake. And with that realization came another—that she was not as cold as she usually was when she woke in the mornings.
She opened her eyes.
The mortu Maggie immediately padded to her hand that was dangling from the chair under the blanket, and nuzzled her head under it, eager for a pet.
Aviva obliged.
“Good morning,” Luke said from the shabby “couch” where he and Rupert had rested as best they could, and smiled.
“Good…morning,” she returned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…drop off.” Her voice wasn’t quite as cracked as it had been before she fell asleep.
“You’re forgiven. Gave us a chance organize breakfast,” Luke said.
“Breakfast?” she said, uncomprehendingly.
“Breakfast,” Rupert replied, setting a cup down on her crate-table next to her chair. It was a genuine cup, not a can being used as a cup. And it was filled with a dark steaming beverage. “Coffee?” Rupert asked. He set some packets of sugar and small containers of cream next to the cup. “I wasn’t sure how you liked it.”
Gemma/Aviva looked, saw that Luke and Rupert had similar cups. Then she tentatively reached for her own cup, forgoing adding cream and sugar, but quietly pocketing them. Then she took a small sip. “Oh, this is lovely. Thank you.”
Rupert set a plate—again, an actual plate—with food in front of her. She stared at it.
She set her coffee cup down and reached for the sandwich. She broke off a piece and fed it to Maggie.
“Don’t give her any more than that,” Rupert said. “She’s already eaten.”
Maggie sniffed at the proffered food, thumped her tail weakly, and slowly, gently took it from the old woman’s fingers, then set it on the floor and looked back up at Gemma with soulful eyes.
Rupert laughed. “She’s full, but she doesn’t want to offend you by refusing.”
“Oh,” the old woman said in some surprise.
She struggled out of her seat and limped toward her tent door. “Please excuse me. I have to—"
“Of course,” Luke and Rupert both said, and waited for her to return from her personal business.
When she did, and had doddered back to her chair, she fingered the soft new blanket that had been thrown over her while she’d been sleeping. She took it and wrapped it around herself, savoring the warmth, then sat down. Then she took another small sip of her coffee. “Shall I continue now with my story?”
“Why don’t you finish your breakfast first,” Luke suggested. “We can wait.”
“As you wish.” She took a small bite of her breakfast sandwich, and closed her eyes in rapture. “Oh, this is lovely.”
Luke and Rupert waited patiently while she ate. Finally, she sighed in something like contentment. She had probably not felt so much physical comfort in a very, very long time.
Finally, she took a deep breath, and looked at the two men. “I’m…not entirely sure where to pick up,” she said.
“Why don’t you tell us about Nori?” Rupert suggested.
The face that had been smoothed by a simple meal now twisted into an expression of grief. “Oh, my sweet Nori! My poor, sweet Nori!”
“Or…maybe we can get to her later,” Rupert amended hastily.
“No—no,” the old woman said. “I will tell you about her now…”
-----
Chapter Seven--"Nori"
The child arrived at the camp not many days after the Emperor’s first visit. She was such a young thing, scarcely more than a toddler, really. Far too young to be brought to a place like Camp Quartus, but she was brought anyway, crying, carried under Vader’s arm and deposited in the medical bay. She was examined from head to toe, as Gemma and Ashti had been, and blood samples taken, but with slightly less interest in her reproductive systems, as she was far too young to be of any use as breeder.
Yet.
Afterwards, she was easily carried by a single stormtrooper, and deposited on the cot in the cell next to Gemma’s. The Commandant’s speech had been foregone.
As soon as the stormtrooper had gone, Ashti and Gemma went to her cell.
“Sweet Deities,” Gemma whispered when they saw the new prisoner. “She’s just a child!”
“Nori?” Ashti said, shocked. She gasped, and went to the cot to envelop the shivering crying child in a hug.
“A—Ashti?” Somehow the child had enough presence of mind to recognize the woman who had been a guest in her parents’ house before everything had changed.
“You know her?” Gemma asked.
Ashti rested her chin on the girl’s head. “She’s the daughter of my husband’s teacher.” She started to say more, then thought the better of it. She wasn’t sure whether or not the child knew her parents were dead, and wasn’t sure how to break the information to her.
But it turned out, she didn’t have to.
“He said—that machine-man said—that Mama and Papa are—are—dead!”
“Oh, Nori,” Ashti said, rocking back and forth and stroking the girl’s hair. “Oh, Nori, I’m so, so sorry.”
“He s-said he k-killed them!”
Ashti kissed the top of the girl’s head and held her tightly. “He killed Mateo, too.”
“I miss them!” the child wailed. “I want them back!”
“I know,” Ashti said. “Me, too.”
Gemma sat down on the cot next to Nori and wrapped her arms around both Nori and Ashti, and laid her head along Ashti’s arm. She wanted to give both of them more, but this was all she had.
.
.
.
.
That night, Gemma was awakened by a small hand on her shoulder.
“Hello?” Nori said.
“Hello.” Gemma tried to smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.
“I’m s-scared.”
“I get scared, too.”
“I c-can’t sleep. Can I sleep…with you?”
“Of course you can.” Gemma lifted the covers, and the child climbed in beside her. Gemma covered the both of them back up and enveloped the child as best she could, kissing the top of her head. The girl snuggled up against her. She was shivering.
“I’m N-Nori,” she murmured.
“I’m Gemma. You can call me ‘Gem.’”
“This is a bad place, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I’m sorry you were brought here.”
“I want my P-Papa.”
“I know.”
“That m-machine-man said to—to forget him!”
“No,” Gemma said. “No, don’t ever forget him. Or your Mama. Always remember how much they loved you.”
“It’s lonely here.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No animals. I miss the animals.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“They were my friends.” The child looked up at her. “Will you be my friend now?”
“Yes,” Gemma said. “Absolutely.”
The child nodded, curled up against Gemma, still shivering, and closed her eyes. Eventually, the shivering eased, and the child fell asleep.
The child arrived at the camp not many days after the Emperor’s first visit. She was such a young thing, scarcely more than a toddler, really. Far too young to be brought to a place like Camp Quartus, but she was brought anyway, crying, carried under Vader’s arm and deposited in the medical bay. She was examined from head to toe, as Gemma and Ashti had been, and blood samples taken, but with slightly less interest in her reproductive systems, as she was far too young to be of any use as breeder.
Yet.
Afterwards, she was easily carried by a single stormtrooper, and deposited on the cot in the cell next to Gemma’s. The Commandant’s speech had been foregone.
As soon as the stormtrooper had gone, Ashti and Gemma went to her cell.
“Sweet Deities,” Gemma whispered when they saw the new prisoner. “She’s just a child!”
“Nori?” Ashti said, shocked. She gasped, and went to the cot to envelop the shivering crying child in a hug.
“A—Ashti?” Somehow the child had enough presence of mind to recognize the woman who had been a guest in her parents’ house before everything had changed.
“You know her?” Gemma asked.
Ashti rested her chin on the girl’s head. “She’s the daughter of my husband’s teacher.” She started to say more, then thought the better of it. She wasn’t sure whether or not the child knew her parents were dead, and wasn’t sure how to break the information to her.
But it turned out, she didn’t have to.
“He said—that machine-man said—that Mama and Papa are—are—dead!”
“Oh, Nori,” Ashti said, rocking back and forth and stroking the girl’s hair. “Oh, Nori, I’m so, so sorry.”
“He s-said he k-killed them!”
Ashti kissed the top of the girl’s head and held her tightly. “He killed Mateo, too.”
“I miss them!” the child wailed. “I want them back!”
“I know,” Ashti said. “Me, too.”
Gemma sat down on the cot next to Nori and wrapped her arms around both Nori and Ashti, and laid her head along Ashti’s arm. She wanted to give both of them more, but this was all she had.
.
.
.
.
That night, Gemma was awakened by a small hand on her shoulder.
“Hello?” Nori said.
“Hello.” Gemma tried to smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.
“I’m s-scared.”
“I get scared, too.”
“I c-can’t sleep. Can I sleep…with you?”
“Of course you can.” Gemma lifted the covers, and the child climbed in beside her. Gemma covered the both of them back up and enveloped the child as best she could, kissing the top of her head. The girl snuggled up against her. She was shivering.
“I’m N-Nori,” she murmured.
“I’m Gemma. You can call me ‘Gem.’”
“This is a bad place, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I’m sorry you were brought here.”
“I want my P-Papa.”
“I know.”
“That m-machine-man said to—to forget him!”
“No,” Gemma said. “No, don’t ever forget him. Or your Mama. Always remember how much they loved you.”
“It’s lonely here.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No animals. I miss the animals.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“They were my friends.” The child looked up at her. “Will you be my friend now?”
“Yes,” Gemma said. “Absolutely.”
The child nodded, curled up against Gemma, still shivering, and closed her eyes. Eventually, the shivering eased, and the child fell asleep.
-----
Chapter Eight--"Failure to Conceive"
Luke suggested taking a break, but Aviva insisted on continuing her story. She took a sip of cold tea, and went on.
"The Emperor returned to Camp Quartus about a month later. Again, we were made to stand outside to await his arrival. Now there were three of us lined up: Ashti, myself, and Nori. Again, I had to be held up by a stormtrooper because I could not stand on my own. He descended from his shuttle as before, with Lord Vader behind him, and the Commandant falling in behind Vader as the Emperor approached us to inspect us. Neither pregnancy had taken, you see. It was theorized that the pain from the Emperor's marking had caused us both to spontaneously abort. It wasn't unusual. It often took at least two 'visits' from the Emperor before the first pregnancy was achieved. The Emperor's second visit proved more fruitful--at least in terms of impregnation."
.
.
.
.
The Emperor stopped in front of Ashti, who was again gagged, with her wrists in binders, and the Commandant stepped forward. “The first attempt was unsuccessful. She is at maximum fertility, and should be ready for a second attempt,” the Commandant said.
The Emperor nodded once, and moved onto Gemma.
“Also unsuccessful,” the Commandant told him. "As you know, fairly common after the first attempt. Possibly a side-effect of the burn-trauma."
The Emperor’s mouth curled upward. “Well, we’ll just have to try again, won’t we?”
“She should be ready. The doctors assure me she’s currently at maximum fertility.”
Gemma’s already weak legs gave out completely, and her guards tightened their grip on her to hold her upright.
“Well, then,” the Emperor said. “Something to look forward to.”
Then the Emperor moved forward and bent down to be at eye level with Nori. His mouth stretched into what was almost a smile. “The Creature-Empath’s daughter?”
“Yes,” said Vader.
“Name?”
The Commandant cleared his throat. “Nori Lin. Age three. Approximately. A Creature-Empath herself. Too young to begin the treatments.”
“I can be patient,” the Emperor said, continuing to smile. He reached a finger out to touch the child’s cheek, but she backed away. One of the stormtroopers grabbed her and held her in place.
“I want my Mama and Papa,” the girl declared. “And my animals!”
The Emperor grasped her chin to hold her head still. “You have no further need of them. You are a very special little girl. And someday, I am going to become your mate.”
Nori glared at him.
The Emperor rose and beckoned to the Commandant. “The camp is sterile?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Excellent.” The Emperor indicated Gemma. "I'll service her first," then he indicated Ashti, "And her in the morning. As before."
Once again, Gemma was taken to the preparation area, bathed, and dressed as she had been before, though in a slightly different costume, with a slightly different hair style. Her skin had again been rubbed raw, which aggravated her burn mark, but as she was to learn shortly, would not be the worst her leg would suffer.
Gemma’s second rape was as awful as the first, though somewhat less bloody. She’d known what to expect this time, which helped a little. There were still some rips, but the hymen had already been breached from his first rape, so there was slightly less blood from his penetration.
But the entire time, he vigorously rubbed her burn mark, sometimes raking it with his nails, which caused the burn wound to re-open and much of the healing that had occurred to be undone. It was excruciatingly painful. Her moans of pain at first seemed to excite him, and cause him to drive into Gemma harder and faster, until he at last spent himself.
He again rubbed her burn mark as he withdrew, and gave it one last scratch with his fingernails for good measure.
Now Gemma's moans of pain seemed only to annoy him. "Be quiet!" he hissed. "It is for your own good. The Mark of Palpatine must remain as prominent as possible to afford you its protection!"
A whimper escaped her. The Emperor reached up and squeezed her neck with his hand, this time not using the Force.
Gemma vainly tried to pull his hands away, nodding that she understood.
After a long moment, he released her throat. Gemma panted as quietly as she could, so as not to annoy him. Her leg and her pubis both hurt horribly, but she bore the pain in silence as best she could.
The Emperor watched her for a moment, then lowered his hand to her abdomen. He again used the Force to manipulate the ejaculate past Gemma's cervix and into her fallopian tubes. Finally, he lay down beside her, and rested. Gemma cried as silently and with as little movement as she could manage.
After a time, the Emperor rose from the bed and left the room, while Gemma was still attached by the wrist binder to the headboard.
Eventually, a female attendant and stormtrooper came to retrieve her, allowed her to relieve herself, clean herself, and get dressed, and took her to the medical bay for repairs to her intimate areas.
.
.
.
.
Back in her tent, Aviva unconsciously rubbed the mark on her leg as she told Luke and Rupert about the Emperor's second trip to Camp Quartus. "The Emperor's second rape was just as unpleasant as the first," Aviva said. "It was only slightly less bloody. He kept rubbing his burn-mark throughout. It had not yet completely healed, you see, because he had insisted that bakta patches would make the mark less visible, and so they were forbidden. He wanted his mark to be visible to all. We were his property, and he wanted everyone to know it. So he rubbed and rubbed it with his rough hands, and even used his sharp nails to ensure that his mark remained an open sore that would scar more visibly. Of course, his penetration of my sacred intimate areas was just as brutal as it had been the first time, with only slightly less blood, as the hymen had already been breached. But I had had the foresight to rub a bit of the numbing cream on my vulva ahead of time. What I remember the most is how he rubbed the burn on my leg raw once more, and how much it hurt. And I couldn't make a sound, or he would choke the breath out of me."
"I can't imagine what you must have gone through," Rupert said quietly.
"Ashti had rubbed a bit of the cream on her vulva as well, but it had worn off by the time the Emperor was ready for her, so she suffered the full effects of his 'attentions,' both in her sacred place, and on her leg. And her burn was longer and deeper than mine, so I'm sure it must have pained her even more greatly than it did me. And it pained me almost as much as when he first created the mark. I swear, he was not able to...achieve the sexual satisfaction he sought until he had made me cry out in pain again and again."
"Deities," Rupert murmured.
"And with Ashti, it was worse. There was only limited pain cream left, and the Emperor said that he would grant neither of us any more boons until it was confirmed that we were pregnant. So essentially, our legs were freshly wounded all over again."
Aviva rubbed her leg again. It had been many years ago, but the memory was still fresh, would always be fresh.
"So what happened? Did you become pregnant?"
"Ashti did. But the fetus was female, and so the pregnancy was terminated."
"And you?" Rupert asked.
Aviva smiled. "Once again, I was fortunate enough not to conceive. The doctors looked for an explanation, but all they could think of was that I was still so young that my cycles were not as responsive to the drugs as they would have liked. But for a short time, before it was learned that the fetus was female, Ashti was given better food. The guards had thought to create a...rift between us, jealousy towards the ones who received better food, on the part of the one who had only mush, me. But I knew that Ashti was only eating because she was forced to do so. And once in a while, when she thought she could get away with it, she would hide a bit of her food in the folds of her clothes, and give it to me later."
"What about Nori?"
"Nori was given special treatment from the start. Child-size portions, of course. She didn't think to share, and I would never have asked her to. And of course, once Ashti's pregnancy was terminated, she was back to the mushy gruel like me."
"So...did you ever get pregnant?"
"Oh, yes! With the Emperor's next visit, in fact. It would be his third time 'servicing' me that resulted in a pregnancy. Only it didn't turn out quite as the Emperor had hoped..."
Luke suggested taking a break, but Aviva insisted on continuing her story. She took a sip of cold tea, and went on.
"The Emperor returned to Camp Quartus about a month later. Again, we were made to stand outside to await his arrival. Now there were three of us lined up: Ashti, myself, and Nori. Again, I had to be held up by a stormtrooper because I could not stand on my own. He descended from his shuttle as before, with Lord Vader behind him, and the Commandant falling in behind Vader as the Emperor approached us to inspect us. Neither pregnancy had taken, you see. It was theorized that the pain from the Emperor's marking had caused us both to spontaneously abort. It wasn't unusual. It often took at least two 'visits' from the Emperor before the first pregnancy was achieved. The Emperor's second visit proved more fruitful--at least in terms of impregnation."
.
.
.
.
The Emperor stopped in front of Ashti, who was again gagged, with her wrists in binders, and the Commandant stepped forward. “The first attempt was unsuccessful. She is at maximum fertility, and should be ready for a second attempt,” the Commandant said.
The Emperor nodded once, and moved onto Gemma.
“Also unsuccessful,” the Commandant told him. "As you know, fairly common after the first attempt. Possibly a side-effect of the burn-trauma."
The Emperor’s mouth curled upward. “Well, we’ll just have to try again, won’t we?”
“She should be ready. The doctors assure me she’s currently at maximum fertility.”
Gemma’s already weak legs gave out completely, and her guards tightened their grip on her to hold her upright.
“Well, then,” the Emperor said. “Something to look forward to.”
Then the Emperor moved forward and bent down to be at eye level with Nori. His mouth stretched into what was almost a smile. “The Creature-Empath’s daughter?”
“Yes,” said Vader.
“Name?”
The Commandant cleared his throat. “Nori Lin. Age three. Approximately. A Creature-Empath herself. Too young to begin the treatments.”
“I can be patient,” the Emperor said, continuing to smile. He reached a finger out to touch the child’s cheek, but she backed away. One of the stormtroopers grabbed her and held her in place.
“I want my Mama and Papa,” the girl declared. “And my animals!”
The Emperor grasped her chin to hold her head still. “You have no further need of them. You are a very special little girl. And someday, I am going to become your mate.”
Nori glared at him.
The Emperor rose and beckoned to the Commandant. “The camp is sterile?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Excellent.” The Emperor indicated Gemma. "I'll service her first," then he indicated Ashti, "And her in the morning. As before."
Once again, Gemma was taken to the preparation area, bathed, and dressed as she had been before, though in a slightly different costume, with a slightly different hair style. Her skin had again been rubbed raw, which aggravated her burn mark, but as she was to learn shortly, would not be the worst her leg would suffer.
Gemma’s second rape was as awful as the first, though somewhat less bloody. She’d known what to expect this time, which helped a little. There were still some rips, but the hymen had already been breached from his first rape, so there was slightly less blood from his penetration.
But the entire time, he vigorously rubbed her burn mark, sometimes raking it with his nails, which caused the burn wound to re-open and much of the healing that had occurred to be undone. It was excruciatingly painful. Her moans of pain at first seemed to excite him, and cause him to drive into Gemma harder and faster, until he at last spent himself.
He again rubbed her burn mark as he withdrew, and gave it one last scratch with his fingernails for good measure.
Now Gemma's moans of pain seemed only to annoy him. "Be quiet!" he hissed. "It is for your own good. The Mark of Palpatine must remain as prominent as possible to afford you its protection!"
A whimper escaped her. The Emperor reached up and squeezed her neck with his hand, this time not using the Force.
Gemma vainly tried to pull his hands away, nodding that she understood.
After a long moment, he released her throat. Gemma panted as quietly as she could, so as not to annoy him. Her leg and her pubis both hurt horribly, but she bore the pain in silence as best she could.
The Emperor watched her for a moment, then lowered his hand to her abdomen. He again used the Force to manipulate the ejaculate past Gemma's cervix and into her fallopian tubes. Finally, he lay down beside her, and rested. Gemma cried as silently and with as little movement as she could manage.
After a time, the Emperor rose from the bed and left the room, while Gemma was still attached by the wrist binder to the headboard.
Eventually, a female attendant and stormtrooper came to retrieve her, allowed her to relieve herself, clean herself, and get dressed, and took her to the medical bay for repairs to her intimate areas.
.
.
.
.
Back in her tent, Aviva unconsciously rubbed the mark on her leg as she told Luke and Rupert about the Emperor's second trip to Camp Quartus. "The Emperor's second rape was just as unpleasant as the first," Aviva said. "It was only slightly less bloody. He kept rubbing his burn-mark throughout. It had not yet completely healed, you see, because he had insisted that bakta patches would make the mark less visible, and so they were forbidden. He wanted his mark to be visible to all. We were his property, and he wanted everyone to know it. So he rubbed and rubbed it with his rough hands, and even used his sharp nails to ensure that his mark remained an open sore that would scar more visibly. Of course, his penetration of my sacred intimate areas was just as brutal as it had been the first time, with only slightly less blood, as the hymen had already been breached. But I had had the foresight to rub a bit of the numbing cream on my vulva ahead of time. What I remember the most is how he rubbed the burn on my leg raw once more, and how much it hurt. And I couldn't make a sound, or he would choke the breath out of me."
"I can't imagine what you must have gone through," Rupert said quietly.
"Ashti had rubbed a bit of the cream on her vulva as well, but it had worn off by the time the Emperor was ready for her, so she suffered the full effects of his 'attentions,' both in her sacred place, and on her leg. And her burn was longer and deeper than mine, so I'm sure it must have pained her even more greatly than it did me. And it pained me almost as much as when he first created the mark. I swear, he was not able to...achieve the sexual satisfaction he sought until he had made me cry out in pain again and again."
"Deities," Rupert murmured.
"And with Ashti, it was worse. There was only limited pain cream left, and the Emperor said that he would grant neither of us any more boons until it was confirmed that we were pregnant. So essentially, our legs were freshly wounded all over again."
Aviva rubbed her leg again. It had been many years ago, but the memory was still fresh, would always be fresh.
"So what happened? Did you become pregnant?"
"Ashti did. But the fetus was female, and so the pregnancy was terminated."
"And you?" Rupert asked.
Aviva smiled. "Once again, I was fortunate enough not to conceive. The doctors looked for an explanation, but all they could think of was that I was still so young that my cycles were not as responsive to the drugs as they would have liked. But for a short time, before it was learned that the fetus was female, Ashti was given better food. The guards had thought to create a...rift between us, jealousy towards the ones who received better food, on the part of the one who had only mush, me. But I knew that Ashti was only eating because she was forced to do so. And once in a while, when she thought she could get away with it, she would hide a bit of her food in the folds of her clothes, and give it to me later."
"What about Nori?"
"Nori was given special treatment from the start. Child-size portions, of course. She didn't think to share, and I would never have asked her to. And of course, once Ashti's pregnancy was terminated, she was back to the mushy gruel like me."
"So...did you ever get pregnant?"
"Oh, yes! With the Emperor's next visit, in fact. It would be his third time 'servicing' me that resulted in a pregnancy. Only it didn't turn out quite as the Emperor had hoped..."
-----
Chapter Nine--"Third Time the Charm"
Ashti was to be the Emperor's first victim this time. Gemma was taken to a different “preparation” room than the first two she had been to. She was given a light supper different from the usual gruel—though still no utensils—and allowed to rest on a couch, where she was unable to make herself sleep. Some hours later, she was scrubbed, dressed in another ceremonial costume, and her hair again elaborately styled, much as had been done the first two times, and taken to the same bedchamber or an identical one.
The numbing effects of the pain cream she had applied to herself when they heard the guards coming to take them outside had long since worn off during the interminable wait between when the women had been collected in the “dormitory” and brought outside, and when the Emperor was finally ready to give Gemma his personal “attentions.”
This time, when Gemma was taken to the bedroom, her wrist was not bound to the bed. In truth, the binder wasn’t necessary. Where could she go?
Finally the Emperor arrived, dressed only in his dressing robe.
Gemma stood as he entered, as she had been told to do if he happened to enter the dining room or exercise area on one of his inspections.
He approached, stopped a yard away, undid the clasps of her costume with his mind, and motioned Gemma to hold her arms out to her sides, which she did. He opened the folds of the costume, exposing her to him fully, and the rich material pulled off her body fell to the floor, seemingly of its own volition. The Emperor studied her from all sides, then finally motioned that she could put her arms down.
She did, resisting the impulse to wrap them around herself.
“Why aren’t you pregnant?” he wondered in a low voice.
Gemma gave her head an ever-so-slight shake, implying that she didn't know.
The Emperor pointed to the bed, and the sheets pulled back without being touched. “Lie down.”
She complied.
He studied her. "Roll over," he ordered.
She obeyed, wondering why he wanted her on her stomach.
"Now. Get on your hands and knees."
She pushed up to her elbows and pulled her knees under her.
"Spread your legs more."
Finally, Gemma understood. He meant to take her from behind, like an animal would mate. He climbed up beside her, then positioned himself between her knees, pushed her down so that she had to use her elbows and forearms to hold herself, then pushed her head down, and thrust into her deeply. Deeper than before. So deep it caused her to cry out, even though she knew that on one level, the sound annoyed him, but on another level, it excited him. She allowed herself to make a sound with each thrust, hoping to encourage his release so that he would finish sooner.
He again raked his nails over his mark on her leg, reopening the wound.
When he was done, he moved to the side, and instead of rolling away and falling asleep as he had the previous two times, he rose from the bed, ordered her to lie on her back again, looked down at her, and put his hand on her abdomen.
She could feel the ejaculate he had just deposited inside her, coalescing and surging inside her body, pushing past the barrier of her cervix, into her uterus, and then into her fallopian tubes, towards her ovaries, as he had done before.
But this time he went farther. He pushed the sperm more forcefully up the fallopian tubes, ensuring that the waiting egg was found. The sperm head penetrated the outer layer of the ovum.
Gemma tensed, wanting the invading semen to go back the way they had come, tried to push his hands away from her lower belly. Her fallopian tubes narrowed ever-so-slightly.
“No!” the Emperor said angrily, and struck her hard across the face with the back of his hand, then returned his hand to her abdomen.
Gemma caught a sob before it could escape. Her tubes opened again. She hadn’t meant for him to see so much.
The Emperor concentrated, ensuring that the egg was properly fertilized, that it became a zygote. Then Gemma could feel the fertilized egg, the zygote, traveling down her fallopian tube, towards her waiting uterus, evolving into a morula and then a blastocyst as it traveled, the process sped up by the Emperor's manipulations.
And Gemma was aware of each step of the process as it occurred. And this time, she couldn’t stop it, because if she did, he would know the full extent of her abilities.
The blastocyst entered her uterus. The Emperor spread his fingers slightly, and the blastocyst burrowed into the uterine wall, implanting itself at his direction. The sticky surface met the sticky lining of the uterus, and they attached to each other. The uterine lining surrounded the blastocyst, and it burrowed into its snug environment.
A process that would normally take days had taken only a few minutes, because of the Emperor’s manipulations.
The Emperor looked down at her, satisfied at his work.
“If you do not get pregnant this time," the Emperor warned, "I will assume you are infertile. In that case, you are of no use to me, unless as an entertainment—in which case I have no qualms about preserving any part of your body. Afterwards, if you are still alive, I will erase my mark by removing your leg, if indeed you still have it, and give you as a gift to the guards. And I will put no limits on how they may use you."
Gemma whimpered.
“What?” he demanded.
“The—the food,” she whispered. “The food is so bad. And the drugs…they make me sick. Perhaps that's why--?”
The Emperor looked down at her in contempt, but said nothing. Then he stretched out his hand, and his robe flew into it. He put it on as he walked towards the door.
She sagged against the bed in defeat. She would be pregnant this time. She knew it. But she also knew that the pregnancy would not be carried to term. It would be female.
She would see to that.
Ashti was to be the Emperor's first victim this time. Gemma was taken to a different “preparation” room than the first two she had been to. She was given a light supper different from the usual gruel—though still no utensils—and allowed to rest on a couch, where she was unable to make herself sleep. Some hours later, she was scrubbed, dressed in another ceremonial costume, and her hair again elaborately styled, much as had been done the first two times, and taken to the same bedchamber or an identical one.
The numbing effects of the pain cream she had applied to herself when they heard the guards coming to take them outside had long since worn off during the interminable wait between when the women had been collected in the “dormitory” and brought outside, and when the Emperor was finally ready to give Gemma his personal “attentions.”
This time, when Gemma was taken to the bedroom, her wrist was not bound to the bed. In truth, the binder wasn’t necessary. Where could she go?
Finally the Emperor arrived, dressed only in his dressing robe.
Gemma stood as he entered, as she had been told to do if he happened to enter the dining room or exercise area on one of his inspections.
He approached, stopped a yard away, undid the clasps of her costume with his mind, and motioned Gemma to hold her arms out to her sides, which she did. He opened the folds of the costume, exposing her to him fully, and the rich material pulled off her body fell to the floor, seemingly of its own volition. The Emperor studied her from all sides, then finally motioned that she could put her arms down.
She did, resisting the impulse to wrap them around herself.
“Why aren’t you pregnant?” he wondered in a low voice.
Gemma gave her head an ever-so-slight shake, implying that she didn't know.
The Emperor pointed to the bed, and the sheets pulled back without being touched. “Lie down.”
She complied.
He studied her. "Roll over," he ordered.
She obeyed, wondering why he wanted her on her stomach.
"Now. Get on your hands and knees."
She pushed up to her elbows and pulled her knees under her.
"Spread your legs more."
Finally, Gemma understood. He meant to take her from behind, like an animal would mate. He climbed up beside her, then positioned himself between her knees, pushed her down so that she had to use her elbows and forearms to hold herself, then pushed her head down, and thrust into her deeply. Deeper than before. So deep it caused her to cry out, even though she knew that on one level, the sound annoyed him, but on another level, it excited him. She allowed herself to make a sound with each thrust, hoping to encourage his release so that he would finish sooner.
He again raked his nails over his mark on her leg, reopening the wound.
When he was done, he moved to the side, and instead of rolling away and falling asleep as he had the previous two times, he rose from the bed, ordered her to lie on her back again, looked down at her, and put his hand on her abdomen.
She could feel the ejaculate he had just deposited inside her, coalescing and surging inside her body, pushing past the barrier of her cervix, into her uterus, and then into her fallopian tubes, towards her ovaries, as he had done before.
But this time he went farther. He pushed the sperm more forcefully up the fallopian tubes, ensuring that the waiting egg was found. The sperm head penetrated the outer layer of the ovum.
Gemma tensed, wanting the invading semen to go back the way they had come, tried to push his hands away from her lower belly. Her fallopian tubes narrowed ever-so-slightly.
“No!” the Emperor said angrily, and struck her hard across the face with the back of his hand, then returned his hand to her abdomen.
Gemma caught a sob before it could escape. Her tubes opened again. She hadn’t meant for him to see so much.
The Emperor concentrated, ensuring that the egg was properly fertilized, that it became a zygote. Then Gemma could feel the fertilized egg, the zygote, traveling down her fallopian tube, towards her waiting uterus, evolving into a morula and then a blastocyst as it traveled, the process sped up by the Emperor's manipulations.
And Gemma was aware of each step of the process as it occurred. And this time, she couldn’t stop it, because if she did, he would know the full extent of her abilities.
The blastocyst entered her uterus. The Emperor spread his fingers slightly, and the blastocyst burrowed into the uterine wall, implanting itself at his direction. The sticky surface met the sticky lining of the uterus, and they attached to each other. The uterine lining surrounded the blastocyst, and it burrowed into its snug environment.
A process that would normally take days had taken only a few minutes, because of the Emperor’s manipulations.
The Emperor looked down at her, satisfied at his work.
“If you do not get pregnant this time," the Emperor warned, "I will assume you are infertile. In that case, you are of no use to me, unless as an entertainment—in which case I have no qualms about preserving any part of your body. Afterwards, if you are still alive, I will erase my mark by removing your leg, if indeed you still have it, and give you as a gift to the guards. And I will put no limits on how they may use you."
Gemma whimpered.
“What?” he demanded.
“The—the food,” she whispered. “The food is so bad. And the drugs…they make me sick. Perhaps that's why--?”
The Emperor looked down at her in contempt, but said nothing. Then he stretched out his hand, and his robe flew into it. He put it on as he walked towards the door.
She sagged against the bed in defeat. She would be pregnant this time. She knew it. But she also knew that the pregnancy would not be carried to term. It would be female.
She would see to that.
-----
Chapter Ten--"Ember"
Ashti's pregnancy, a month ahead of Gemma's, was terminated. She was put on the drugs to resume a new cycle almost immediately.
The sex of Gemma's fetus was not yet known. Her pregnancy would continue for a while longer yet.
Meanwhile, a new woman was brought to the camp. Her name was Ember. Ember was a telepath. Untrained, but with an innate ability to sense the thoughts of a cooperating Force-sensitive partner who was willing to share her thoughts—meaning Ashti, Gemma, and Nori. As long as both the sending and the receiving parties were actively trying, they could send simple unspoken messages to and from Ember. The women invented a sort of game they called “What am I thinking?” Except mostly all they had to think about was the Emperor’s next approaching visit. Except for Nori, who was able to think of things like different colors, or different animal friends that she missed, or different foods they were unlikely to taste again, or her now-dead parents. The game soon lost most of its allure, and even Nori eventually lost interest.
Ashti's and Ember's cycles were synched so that the two of them would be ready for the Emperor's next "inspection." Gemma wouldn't be on the menu for the Emperor this time around, but she would on his next trip following.
In the meantime, Nori spent her nights alternating between Gemma’s bed, and Ashti’s, unable to sleep alone in her own.
Ashti and Gemma tried to prepare Ember as best they could for the Emperor's impending rape--but really, how could one ever be truly prepared for such a thing? Gemma held back the last of her numbing cream for Ember, but there wasn't much left. What there was would have to do. They advised her to ask for more if the Emperor granted her a boon after the rape.
"He might stick his tongue in your mouth," Gemma warned her. "It is the most vile, disgusting thing, but you must not fight it."
"I went on a date once when the guy grabbed me and tried to do that," Ember said, "I had already decided I didn't like him and told him so, so when he stuck that thing in my mouth, I bit it. I didn't even think about it. But I'll bet he did before trying it again on someone else.."
"No!" Gemma and Ashti both exclaimed. "You mustn't!"
"Watch me!" Ember said. "What am I thinking?"
Gemma and Ashti opened themselves to her message, which was short and clear: I WILL bite that disgusting tongue off if he sticks it in my mouth!
Gemma and Ashti slammed the link closed
"He'll punish you!" Ashti warned. "What am I thinking?" She mentally sent Ember the images of the disfigured women she had seen on the Commandant's tablet.
"It might be worth it to let him know that he's not invincible!" Ember replied.
Despite Gemma's and Ashti's attempts to dissuade her, Ember wasn't making any promises. "Sometimes I act before thinking," she said.
"Promise you won't!"
"I'll try."
Then they got word from the Commandant that the Emperor was scheduled for an "inspection" within a few days' time. Ashti and Ember were given the injections to prepare them for the next rape sessions, to make them as fertile as possible.
Meanwhile, it was finally determined that the fruit of Gemma's pregnancy was female. The drugs they gave her to terminate it made Gemma sick—an effect Gemma encouraged. It was decided that it would be too dangerous to rush her fertility cycle to time it with the Emperor's imminent visit, so she would be spared his 'attentions.' Just this once.
She'd take whatever reprieve she could get.
When the women heard the guards coming to take them outside to greet the Emperor, Gemma gave Ember and Ashti small amounts of her numbing cream, which was almost gone, to rub into their vulvas. She reserved the last tiny amount for when it would be needed afterwards.
The four of them—Ashti, Gemma, Nori, and Ember—were taken outside to wait for the Emperor’s arrival, and lined up as they had been before, except that now there was Ember added to the line-up. However, it was only Ashti and Ember who would be on the "menu" to sate the Emperor's sexual appetite.
Knowing she was to be spared this time, Gemma managed to stand without being held up by the guards. Nori stood on her own beside her, but clutching Gemma’s hand.
He stopped in front of Ashti.
"The fetus was female," the Commandant informed him. "It was terminated. Her cycle is now at maximum fertility again."
"Very good." The Emperor moved on to Gemma. "And her?"
"Her fetus was also female. The pregnancy was just terminated. She is not yet ready for impregnation."
The Emperor tsked, and touched Gemma's cheek in an almost loving manner, the cheek he had previously struck with the back of his hand. "One so young should be able to bear me many sons. We'll try again next time, shall we?"
Gemma said nothing, tried not to flinch at his touch.
The Emperor moved on to Ember. “So this is the new one. Tell me about her.”
“Ember Borne. Age approximately twenty-three. Not married, not intact, was apparently sexually active. She is currently at peak fertility."
“Talent?”
Vader stepped forward. “A telepath of some middling ability.”
The Emperor’s gaze raked down Ember’s body. “A more pleasing form than the usual. And her experience might prove...interesting." He indicated Ashti with a tilt of his head. "I will service her first.” He indicated Ember. “And her in the morning.”
"Very good, Your Majesty."
By now, Gemma had figured out that the Emperor saved the woman he was most looking forward to raping for the last.
As the Emperor moved towards the entrance to the complex, before the stormtroopers could carry Ashti and Ember to the "preparation" areas and Gemma and Nori back to their cells, Ashti coughed—a signal that she wanted to establish a telepathic link. Please tell me you won't bite his tongue, Ashti begged.
I'll try not to, Ember responded. But there was an uncertainty in the sending.
The stormtroopers broke the grip between the hands of the women and Nori as Ashti and Ember were dragged to the “preparation” area of the facility, and Gemma and Nori were taken back to their “dormitory” cells.
.
.
.
.
Something was...off. Three stormtroopers entered the "dormitory" and headed for Gemma's cell. Two of them grabbed Gemma, and dragged her to the entrance, while the third pulled Nori off and threw Nori to the cot before following Gemma and the other stormtroopers.
They dragged her to the dining room, put binders on her, and made her stand on one side. Ember was brought in, in binders, still in her prison garb having not yet been washed and dressed in the rape-costume. Ember was made to stand alongside Gemma. Gemma cleared her throat. What's going on?
I don't know, Ember replied.
Two stormtroopers opened the door at the far end of the dining hall and held it open. The Emperor's Crimson Guard entered and formed two columns along either side of the door. More stormtroopers entered and formed a phalanx next to the Crimson Guard. Finally, the Emperor entered the room, followed by Vader, and then the Commandant. The Commandant's expression was grim. Vader and the Commandant were both ceremoniously holding devices of some type, as they had held the lightsaber and laser drill when the Emperor had burned his mark into Gemma and Ashti. Behind Vader and the Commandant came Ashti, still dressed in her rape-costume. Her hands were bound and attached to a hover-'droid, and Ashti had trouble keeping up, so that when she stumbled, the 'droid dragged her by the bound wrists unrelentingly. Somehow she managed to take some running steps, and get her feet back under her again. She was followed by uniformed administrator, who were holding various containers. The administrators fanned out behind Vader and the Commandant. They were followed by more stormtroopers, who spread out throughout the room. The Emperor stopped a few feet beyond the head of the columns. He was holding something in one hand, a device of some sort. Vader and the Commandant moved to stand on either side of him. Ashti was brought to a point directly behind the Emperor by the hover-'droid, which rose higher, causing Ashti to have to stand on tip-toe or else hang by her wrists.
The Emperor regarded the two women before him for a long moment, before turning around and pointed to Ashti. "Thith woman—" he proclaimed with a lisp.
Ember suppressed a snigger. But Gemma saw the Commandant's expression, and any temptation she might have had to laugh instantly died.
The Emperor gestured at Ashti again. "Thith woman doth not underthtan' the honor that hath been accorded to her by her Emperor! Thee hath attempted to hurt me by bi-ing my thong." Gemma translated the lisp in her mind. ('This woman does not understand the honor that has been accorded to her by her Emperor. She hs attempted to hurt me by biting my tongue.')
Thee muth learn how tho pwoperwy appwetheate the honor that thee hath been given. An' I think I hath the perfec' theether." ('She must learn how to properly appreciate the honor that has been given. and I think I have the perfect teacher.')
He turned to Vader. "Lor' Vayer--" He held out his hand.
The device from Vader's outstretched hands flew to the Emperor's waiting grasp.
The Emperor walked up to Ashti and held it in front of her eyes. "Thu you know what thith ith? What it doth?" Gemma translated in her head, ('Do you know what this is? What it does?')
"No," Ashti said, fearfully.
"Well, then. Awwow me tho demonthrate." ('Allow me to demonstrate.')
Without warning, he smashed the device against Ashti's mouth, hard, breaking several teeth.
Gemma and Ashti gasped. Ashti screamed.
Lights on the outside of the device came on and started blinking as the device did something inside her mouth. Ashti shook her head violently from side to side as she screamed, and the lights continued blinking.
Suddenly Ashti's screams stopped suddenly, and her head suddenly stopped shaking, facing straight ahead. The lights stopped blinking. Ashti's beautiful eyes were terrified.
"Ah, ith rethee," said the Emperor. Even with having seen this all before in a vision, it took Gemma a second to get past the panic to understand what he was saying, ('Ah, it's ready.') Next to Gemma, Ember was horror-struck and frozen.
The Emperor walked over to Ashti, reached up to her mouth, and pulled part of the device away. Part was left inside her mouth, now implanted there. Blood was drooling out of Ashti's mouth, pouring onto the front of her rape-costume. She was panting heavily, breathing in and out through her nose, and staring at the Emperor with terrified eyes.
The Emperor now held his hand holding the device out to the Commandant. The used device flew from the Emperor's hand to the Commandant's, and the unused device flew from the Commandant to the Emperor, who turned to face Gemma and Ember. All traces of the slight humor Ember had shown earlier were gone.
"Leth theth it, thall we?" ('Let's test it, shall we?')
The Emperor looked at Ashti and said, "Thilenth off." ('Silence off.') Even with his lisp, the device understood him, and a light on the controller in the Emperor's hand flashed once. Immediately, Ashti's wail filled the dining hall.
"Thilenth on," ('Silence on.')
Immediately, Ashti's wail was stopped. Tears spilled out of her eyes.
The Emperor turned to Gemma and Ember and smiled. "Tha' ith the defaul' mode." ('That is the default mode.') He turned back to Ashti. "Open why." ('Open wide.')
The voice-recognized command registered. Immediately, Ashti's mouth opened, to the point where her jaw was almost dislocated. Her broken teeth were clearly visible. Also visible were things, prosthetics, implanted at the top and bottom of her mouth Blood continued to flow out of her mouth and onto her costume.
The Emperor peered into her mouth. "Oh, thothe bwoken theeth will never thu." ('Oh, those broken teeth will never do.') "Thoo ba' we thon' have a thenthith 'throi'!" ('Too bad we don't have a dentist 'droid.') "I thuppothe we will have tho make thu with the ol' fathon metho'". ('I suppose we will have to make do. with the old-fashioned method.') He made a motion, and one of his attendants approached, bearing a pair of pliers. The Emperor held them up for everyone to see.
Ashti sagged silently, her mouth held open by the device and her body held up by her wrists with the hover 'droid. The Emperor approached her. Ashti kicked out with her feet, trying to strike at him. Her body twisted and kicked, but her hands and face never moved, held in place by the hover 'droid and the device implanted in her mouth. Immediately, several stormtroopers rushed forward to grab her legs and prevent her from contacting with the Emperor.
"The nithe thing about thith devithe ith that it holth the head abtholu'ly thill, Obtherve." ('The nice thing about this device is that it holds the head absolutely still. Observe."
With the stormtroopers restraining Ashti's legs, her torso twisted from side to side, but her head never moved. The Emperor stepped around a stormtrooper, then reached inside Ashti's mouth with the pliers. There was a crunching sound, and he turned around again, holding up one of Ashti's top front incisors, with its root clearly visible.
"Thilenth off," said the Emperor. Immediately, Ashti's scream filled the hall.
The Emperor couldn't speak over the noise. He rolled his eyes and pressed a button. Ashti's scream abruptly ceased. "Thilenth back on. Thath beher." ('Silence back on. That's better.')
The Emperor made another motion. Another attendant stepped forward, holding a bowl. The Emperor dropped his grisley prize into the bowl, then held the pliers out towards the Commandant. "the neckth honor ith yourth." ('The next honor is yours.')
The Commandant hesitated for the barest fraction of an instant, then strode up to the Emperor and took the pliers. He then turned towards Ashti, and walked up to her. Ashti 's bodyshook with a silent sob. After another infinitesimal hesitation, the Commandant opened the pliers, reached into Ashti's wide open mouth, and extracted a tooth as quickly as he could.
Ashti's scream was an exhaled breath only the Commandant's ears could hear.
The Commandant closed his eyes for the barest instant, then turned on his heel, returned to the Emperor, and dropped the tooth into the bowl. He returned the pliers to the Emperor, then returned to his original place.
"Well done," said the Emperor. He held the pliers aloft and addressed the Imperial assemblage. "Who will be neckth?" ('Who will be next?')
Some of the Imperials looked at each other. Then one of the administrative officers stepped forward. "I will, your majesty," he said. There was a trace of eagerness in his voice.
The Emperor nodded, and the administrator stepped forward smartly. He took the pliers from the Emperor, went to Ashti, smiled a little, then slowly, slowly extracted one of her teeth.
When it was out, he returned to the Emperor, and dropped the tooth into the bowl.
"Eckthellen' !" ('Excellent!') the Emperor purred, smiling. He raised his gaze to the Commandant. "Commandan', mee' your firth lieutenan'!" (Commandant, meet your first lieutenant!')
The Commandant nodded once, acknowledging the field promotion.
All at once, there was a clamor of volunteers. A line was formed. Ashti's teeth were extracted one by one. Her mouth was a bloody mess, and uniform after uniform was splattered with bloody spray as Ashti exhaled her silent screams. Finally, all the teeth were gone, and Ashti's gums were bleeding so profusely that she passed out, hanging by her wrists from her binders attached to the hover 'droid.
The blissful oblivion was only to last only a moment. The Emperor waved to one of the medical administrators, who sprayed something into Ashti's mouth to stop the bleeding, then injected her arm with something to bring her around again.
The Emperor clapped his hands twice, the signal for the attendant holding the jar to step forward. "Now for thum en'erthainmen'!" ('Now for some entertainment!') He opened the jar and took out a small sphere. "Eeth of theeth hath a differen' tithe for our thuden' thu enthoy." ("Each of these has a different taste for our student to enjoy.') "They ditholve inthanly in an ethplothion of fwavah." ('They explode instantly in an explosion of flavor.') "Of courth, thum have a more pweathen' fwavah fan ufferth." ('Of course, some have a more pleasant flavor than others.') "An' thum aw vewy unpweathen', in'ee'." ('And some are very unpleasant indeed.') He smiled at Ashti. "But aw ah perfeckwy hahmweff. You nee' have no feeah of poithoning or thoking." ('But all are perfectly harmless. You need have no fear of poisoning or choking.')
With that, he tossed the small ball into Ashti's wide open mouth. A yellow spray erupted. Ashti coughed silently.
The Emperor motioned. to another attendant, the one holding a tray bearing two coins and a small bag. From the tray, the Emperor picked up the two coins. One was a standard credit, and the other a shiny gold coin, worth several months of the Commandant's salary. He held up the credit. "Eeth man who thcorth shall earn one of theeth." ("Each man who scores shall win one of these.') "And whoveah thcorth fwom fuhtheth away thall win thith coin!" (And whoever scores from farthest away shall win this coin!")
All of the officers lined up to have a try. Some, including the Commandant, walked right up to Ashti so that they couldn't possibly miss, content with the sure credit, and dropped the sphere into her mouth. Others decided to risk the sure credit for the chance to win the more valuable prize, and tossed their sphere towards her with increasing distance. Gemma caught a whiff of one of the misses and gagged.
Ashti gagged, open mouthed, with many of the "hits." Before long, one of the "hits" caused her to silently throw up all over her costume and on the floor. There was much laughter at that. The Emperor moved the hover-'droid so that the "players" wouldn't have to step in the vomitus to deposit their balls into Ashti's open mouth. There were some other "hits" that caused Ashti to retch silently, but with her stomach emptied, very little came up. What did come up ended up on her chin and on her costume Every time she gagged or retched, there was more laughter. The game took on a party-like atmosphere, and the Emperor seemed to enjoy it immensely.
Finally, the last sphere was gone, and the Emperor held up his hand for silence. He awarded the gold coin to the officer who had landed his sphere from farthest away. Then he reached up to his mouth and tore off the bakta patch that had been covering his tongue. "It appears," he said in a perfectly normal voice, with no trace of his earlier lisp, "that the bakta have done their job. My tongue is healed. And now that that's over with, there is still some business to attend to." He looked at Ashti and smiled. "A female to impregnate." He motioned to the Commandant, who handed him the controller for the device in Ashti's mouth. "I believe you have learned your lesson, haven't you, my Dear?"
He pressed a button, and Ashti's head nodded vigorously up and down.
"You won't ever try anything like that again, will you, my Dear?"
He pressed another button, and Ashti's head shook from side to side.
He motioned for the hover-droid to lower enough for Ashti to stand on her feet. He motioned to a female attendant, who wiped away the blood and spittle remains of the "flavor" balls from Ashti's face and chin.
When the attendant was done and had stepped back to her place, the Emperor approached Ashti and caressed her cheek. Then he pressed a button on the controller, turning it off. Ashti's mouth closed with an audible moan coming from her throat. "Now, my Dear, you won't be tempted to do anything like you did again, will you?"
'Ohh," Ashti moaned. ('No.')
"Good." He caressed her cheek again. "Now let's resume where we left off. And perhaps we can even find a...fun and interesting way to play with this device." He pressed the "open" button on the controller again, and Ashti's mouth once again opened wide without her volition.
She whimpered involuntarily. The Emperor pressed another button, and the whimper was immediately silenced.
The stormtroopers surrounded Gemma and Ashti, preparing to escort them back to their cells or the preparation area.
"That's more open mouth than one needs for a tongue," one of them said.
The other laughed. "You know what he's going to put in there, don't you?"
Gemma cleared her throat. They only had a few seconds before they would be separated.
Ember didn't respond.
Gemma tried again, louder.
Ember let out a low wail.
It wasn't until Gemma cleared her throat for the third time, quite loudly, that she was able to get through to Ember.
I'm here, Ember finally responded, opening the link.
Do whatever he tells you, Gemma sent. Don't fight him.
I won't fight him, Ember replied, as the guards started dragging her back to the preparation area.
.
.
.
.
Gemma didn’t see the other women again until they were taken outside for the Emperor’s departure. Ember was clutching at her crotch and moaning. Ashti stood there with her mouth still open wide and still unable to make any vocalizations. They all knew what was coming next for Ember. Her ordeal wasn't yet over.
Nori stared at Ashti, simultaneously frightened and fascinated by the toothless gums and wide open mouth.
"Say something, Ashti," Nori whispered.
But Ashti could only shake her head.
They only had seconds before the Emperor would emerge from the building. They had to make the best use of those seconds as they could. Gemma cleared her throat.
Ember was too lost in her pain and trauma to respond.
Gemma cleared her throat again, and managed to step on Ember's foot to get her attention.
Finally, Ember looked at her.
Gemma coughed, and looked meaningfully at Ember, then Nori.
Somehow, Ember was able to break through her pain enough to establish the three-way link
Move to my other side, Nori, Gemma whispered into the link.
Why? Nori asked.
I want to be next to Ember.
Why? Nori asked again.
Secret. I'll tell you later. Just do it. Once Nori had moved, Gemma sniffled--the signal to cut someone out of the link. Ember finally realized that Nori was to be cut out, and made the link private with Gemma.
Raise your skirt, Gemma sent. The side next to me.
For a second, Ember didn't quite understand.
He's going to burn you, Gemma sent. Remember? We told you.
Oh, Sweet Force, Ember sent back. Surreptitiously she gathered her skirt into her left hand. Sweet Force, don't let it be so...
Hoping desperately not to attract the guards' attention, Gemma rubbed her hand along Ember's thigh, trying to transfer the last bit of numbing cream she had squeezed into her palm when she heard the guards approaching her cell onto Ember's leg.
Sweet Force, don't let it be so, Ember kept repeating into the link. Sweet Force, please make him spare me. Ember started trembling. She started to sink, and the guards behind her grabbed her arms to hold her up.
Gemma just hoped there was enough of the cream to do some good. She coughed, and sniffed, wanting the link to be broken before the Emperor arrived. There were rumors that he had some telepathic ability.
When the Emperor and Vader and the Commandant emerged from the building, the stormtroopers, administrative personnel, Crimson Guard, and other attendants snapped to attention. Ember’s arms were pulled so that she was forced upright and was no longer able to clutch at herself. Gemma found some small amount of strength in the hand that held Nori’s and in the secret they shared between them, and she was able to maintain her feet, despite the pain in her own groin.
The Commandant and Vader took their places behind him, with the laser drill and lightsaber, respectively, and the Emperor went to where the women were.
He moved to stand before Ember. He smiled. “I suppose your sisters have told you what I must do next.”
Ember shook her head. “Please, don’t,” she begged.
“I’m afraid it’s necessary, my Dear. For your own protection.” He gestured, and more stormtroopers grabbed Ember. Others grabbed Ashti, Gemma, and Nori.
“No!” she cried. “Please, no!”
The Emperor stretched his hand toward the Commandant, and the laser drill flew to his hand. He gestured to Ember’s skirt, which raised seemingly on its own, knelt before her, and inscribed his hideous “P” amidst Ember's screams and struggles against the stormtroopers’ hold. Nori’s screams joined in the noise. This was the first marking Nori was witness to, but she would be witness to every marking in the camp thereafter.
Gemma closed her eyes to block the sight, but could not block the sound. Ashti simply wept. She had no fight left in her whatsoever.
When the Emperor was done inscribing his “P” into Ember’s leg, the laser drill flew back to the Commandant’s hands. Despite the tiny bit of pain cream Gemma had managed to apply to Ember’s leg, the pain from the burn was still excruciating, and Ember was unable to either stand on her own or stop her wail of pain.
“Now,” said the Emperor, “What boon would you have of me?”
Ember was unable to answer, even though she had been coached on this ahead of time. The pain was too great, and she was unable to think clearly.
“Nothing?” The Emperor said. “Well, then—”
“Something for the pain?” Gemma said, speaking out of turn, hoping not to waste this small opportunity.
Ember nodded. “Y-yes, please. S-something for the p-pain!”
The Emperor sent an amused glance towards the Commandant, who nodded. “Very well. Something for the pain.”
The Emperor then turned to address the ensemble. “She is mine, now. No one else touches her!”
He turned to stride toward his shuttle. Vader returned his lightsaber to his belt and followed him, and the Commandant returned the laser drill to his pocket before running to catch up with the Emperor. "Your majesty, you're forgetting something! The woman Ashti. You cannot mean to leave her like that!"
"I did not forget," the Emperor said, continuing to walk.
"Well, then," the Commandant said, "as long as you do not blame me if she or the potential child suffers some form of permanent damage because she cannot swallow properly with a gaping mouth...." he shrugged unconcernedly.
The Emperor stopped finally, and turned to regard Ashti. Finally, he gestured to one of his attendants, who produced the controller for Ashti's device.
"Half-open," the Emperor said into it.
Immediately, Ashti's mouth closed half-way, just enough that she could close her lips over her gums.
The Emperor returned the device to the attendant. "That should be sufficient for eating and. drinking."
"With some difficulty," the Commandant noted, smiling.
"Of course. We wouldn't want her to forget her lesson too quickly, now, would we?"
The Emperor turned and headed up the gangplank into his shuttle, followed by his contingent . Once the doors closed and the gangplank began folding away, the Commandant motioned to his own stormtroopers to take Ashti, Gemma, Nori, and Ember back to the “dormitory.” Ashti and Gemma were able to limp on their own. Ember was dragged by a pair of stormtroopers. Nori was simply thrown over one stormtrooper’s shoulder so they wouldn't have to slow their pace to match her smaller child steps..
.
.
.
.
The women gathered in Ember’s cell. Gemma spread a layer of cream from the fresh tube over Ember’s burn, and squeezed some into Ember’s hand for her to rub over the tears in her vulva herself. Ashti held Ember and soothed her as best she could as Ember cried. “I thought the rape was bad enough. But this—" She pressed her hand against her leg.
Gemma capped the tube of numbing cream and handed it to her. “Try to use it as sparingly as you can. We don’t know when or if there will be more.
Ember nodded, then grasped Gemma’s hand. “Thank you. For helping me out there. Both before…and after. I couldn’t think straight.”
“I know.”
“How does a psychopath like that get into a position of power?” Ember wondered.
Ashti coughed. The Emperor had not unfrozen her voice box, but she still had a way to communicate with the other women.
Ember established the 3-way link.
How did a psychopath get into power? Ashti sent, repeating Ember's question. He hid it. Hid it until it was too late. And when it might have mattered, anyone who could do anything about it was too afraid of losing their lives or their livelihood, to make waves. And then there are those who actually applaud his cruelty, and think it somehow makes him stronger.
They heard the gate to the "dormitory" open and close, and footsteps heading towards them. Ashti signaled to cut the link before the guard--or actually, the Commandant, as it turned out--could reach Ember's cell, after pausing at Ashti's, Gemma's, and Nori's cells.
He filled the door frame. 'I warned you," he said angrily. "And I took a great risk upon myself to do it. Yet you defied him anyway." He entered the cell and looked pointedly down at Ashti. "Didn't you understand?".
Ashti's lips moved, but no sound came from her.
"What?" the Commandant asked.
Ashti gestured to Gemma with points and miming of writing. Gemma nodded and hobbled to Nori's room next door to get paper and a crayon.
When she returned, the Commandant was still seething. "I warned you!"
Ashti nodded and scribbled a message on the paper, and held it up for the Commandant to see.
I understood.
"Then, why?" the Commandant asked.
Ashti scribbled something below what she had previously written, and held it up again.
"But she didn't," the Commandant read. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Ashti let out a breath that could only be one of frustration, then looked at Gemma.and jabbed at the top line.
"I understood," Gemma translated, Ashti jabbed her finger at the middle word on the second line. "But she didn't."
"'She'?" the Commandant said, confused.
Ashti pointed at Ember, who closed her eyes and let out a sob.
The Commandant stared at Ember in disbelief. "You didn't understand?"
"I was going to do it," Ember sobbed. "I was going to bite his tongue off, but Ashti did it first. What he did to her...he would have done to me."
The Commandant was incredulous. He turned back to Ashti. "So you did it first? To keep her from doing it?"
Ashti nodded.
Drool dribbled out of the mouth that she couldn't close. Gemma used part of her skirt to wipe it away. "I love you, Ashti," Gemma whispered, and wrapped her arms around the other woman.
Ashti leaned against Gemma's shoulder, and a breath that might have been either a moan or a sigh passed out of her mouth.
"I'm so sorry, Ashti," Ember sobbed. "I didn't know you would do that. I didn't know he would do that."
The Commandant stared at Ember. "But you understand now, I hope, what it means to defy the Emperor?"
Ember nodded. "I won't do it again. I won't do anything like that again, I swear."
'It's on you now,' the Commandant told her, "to make sure the new women understand."
"Are there new women?" Gemma asked.
"They will be brought. Eventually. All of you," the Commandant's gaze swept over all three of the women, "must make sure that the others understand what to expect if they defy the Emperor. This—" he indicated Ashti "—is the most mild of his punishments. Do not defy him again!"
Ashti reached a hand to touch Ember's hand. Their hands joined, and Ashti pulled Ember against her, so that the three women were huddled together. Ashti cleared her throat, and immediately felt Ember's presence despite the Commandant's proximity.
I love you, Ember, Ashti sent.
I love you, too, Ashti, was Ember's response. I'm so sorry.'
The Commandant looked at the three women huddled together as a group, then settled on Ashti individually. "You really should thank me, you know," he said.
Ashti released Gemma to reach for the paper and crayon. For what? she wrote.
The Commandant swallowed, remembering. "In the other camp, the woman who tried that was nearly killed, choking on a worm that the Emperor had put in her mouth. He pulled it out, of course, but the process of its removal was...extremely painful for her. Then, when the Emperor had gone, the guards had thought to continue the game. Then they made a new game, to see how much disgusting matter could they stuff into her mouth all at once. Naturally, she choked on that, as well, and nearly died. I was only just able to save her. I convinced the Emperor that the taste bombs were a better idea, and offered less risk to a potential breeder. It's an old Academy game, actually. The other woman went on to bear several sons."
Ashti wrote on her paper and held it up: Thank you. The Commandant nodded. Then Ashti took the paper back and added a question mark: Thank you?
"It might have been kinder to let the other woman die," Gemma muttered. Ashti nodded.
"Well, if you won't thank me for that, maybe you'll thank me for something else. Mouth still hurt?"
A shaky breath escaped Ashti's throat.
"What do you think?" Gemma said.
The Commandant reached into his uniform and pulled out a small jar of something. This he tossed at Ashti. Gemma caught it and looked at it. An oral healing gel.
"Rub a little of that on your gums every few hours. I'll come get what's left in a few days. Don't tell anyone I gave it to you."
Gemma opened the jar and put a little on her finger and rubbed in on Ashti's raw, swollen gums when Ashti turned her face to her.
The Commandant watched for a moment, then turned and walked to the door. Then he stopped and looked back at Ashti. "It's a damn shame," he said to Ashti. "You were so beautiful!"
Ashti stretched her lips as best she could, giving him a toothless, gummy, open-mouthed, silent, mirthless grin--a macabre caricature of what had once been her lovely smile..
The Commandant shuddered, and left.
Ashti's pregnancy, a month ahead of Gemma's, was terminated. She was put on the drugs to resume a new cycle almost immediately.
The sex of Gemma's fetus was not yet known. Her pregnancy would continue for a while longer yet.
Meanwhile, a new woman was brought to the camp. Her name was Ember. Ember was a telepath. Untrained, but with an innate ability to sense the thoughts of a cooperating Force-sensitive partner who was willing to share her thoughts—meaning Ashti, Gemma, and Nori. As long as both the sending and the receiving parties were actively trying, they could send simple unspoken messages to and from Ember. The women invented a sort of game they called “What am I thinking?” Except mostly all they had to think about was the Emperor’s next approaching visit. Except for Nori, who was able to think of things like different colors, or different animal friends that she missed, or different foods they were unlikely to taste again, or her now-dead parents. The game soon lost most of its allure, and even Nori eventually lost interest.
Ashti's and Ember's cycles were synched so that the two of them would be ready for the Emperor's next "inspection." Gemma wouldn't be on the menu for the Emperor this time around, but she would on his next trip following.
In the meantime, Nori spent her nights alternating between Gemma’s bed, and Ashti’s, unable to sleep alone in her own.
Ashti and Gemma tried to prepare Ember as best they could for the Emperor's impending rape--but really, how could one ever be truly prepared for such a thing? Gemma held back the last of her numbing cream for Ember, but there wasn't much left. What there was would have to do. They advised her to ask for more if the Emperor granted her a boon after the rape.
"He might stick his tongue in your mouth," Gemma warned her. "It is the most vile, disgusting thing, but you must not fight it."
"I went on a date once when the guy grabbed me and tried to do that," Ember said, "I had already decided I didn't like him and told him so, so when he stuck that thing in my mouth, I bit it. I didn't even think about it. But I'll bet he did before trying it again on someone else.."
"No!" Gemma and Ashti both exclaimed. "You mustn't!"
"Watch me!" Ember said. "What am I thinking?"
Gemma and Ashti opened themselves to her message, which was short and clear: I WILL bite that disgusting tongue off if he sticks it in my mouth!
Gemma and Ashti slammed the link closed
"He'll punish you!" Ashti warned. "What am I thinking?" She mentally sent Ember the images of the disfigured women she had seen on the Commandant's tablet.
"It might be worth it to let him know that he's not invincible!" Ember replied.
Despite Gemma's and Ashti's attempts to dissuade her, Ember wasn't making any promises. "Sometimes I act before thinking," she said.
"Promise you won't!"
"I'll try."
Then they got word from the Commandant that the Emperor was scheduled for an "inspection" within a few days' time. Ashti and Ember were given the injections to prepare them for the next rape sessions, to make them as fertile as possible.
Meanwhile, it was finally determined that the fruit of Gemma's pregnancy was female. The drugs they gave her to terminate it made Gemma sick—an effect Gemma encouraged. It was decided that it would be too dangerous to rush her fertility cycle to time it with the Emperor's imminent visit, so she would be spared his 'attentions.' Just this once.
She'd take whatever reprieve she could get.
When the women heard the guards coming to take them outside to greet the Emperor, Gemma gave Ember and Ashti small amounts of her numbing cream, which was almost gone, to rub into their vulvas. She reserved the last tiny amount for when it would be needed afterwards.
The four of them—Ashti, Gemma, Nori, and Ember—were taken outside to wait for the Emperor’s arrival, and lined up as they had been before, except that now there was Ember added to the line-up. However, it was only Ashti and Ember who would be on the "menu" to sate the Emperor's sexual appetite.
Knowing she was to be spared this time, Gemma managed to stand without being held up by the guards. Nori stood on her own beside her, but clutching Gemma’s hand.
He stopped in front of Ashti.
"The fetus was female," the Commandant informed him. "It was terminated. Her cycle is now at maximum fertility again."
"Very good." The Emperor moved on to Gemma. "And her?"
"Her fetus was also female. The pregnancy was just terminated. She is not yet ready for impregnation."
The Emperor tsked, and touched Gemma's cheek in an almost loving manner, the cheek he had previously struck with the back of his hand. "One so young should be able to bear me many sons. We'll try again next time, shall we?"
Gemma said nothing, tried not to flinch at his touch.
The Emperor moved on to Ember. “So this is the new one. Tell me about her.”
“Ember Borne. Age approximately twenty-three. Not married, not intact, was apparently sexually active. She is currently at peak fertility."
“Talent?”
Vader stepped forward. “A telepath of some middling ability.”
The Emperor’s gaze raked down Ember’s body. “A more pleasing form than the usual. And her experience might prove...interesting." He indicated Ashti with a tilt of his head. "I will service her first.” He indicated Ember. “And her in the morning.”
"Very good, Your Majesty."
By now, Gemma had figured out that the Emperor saved the woman he was most looking forward to raping for the last.
As the Emperor moved towards the entrance to the complex, before the stormtroopers could carry Ashti and Ember to the "preparation" areas and Gemma and Nori back to their cells, Ashti coughed—a signal that she wanted to establish a telepathic link. Please tell me you won't bite his tongue, Ashti begged.
I'll try not to, Ember responded. But there was an uncertainty in the sending.
The stormtroopers broke the grip between the hands of the women and Nori as Ashti and Ember were dragged to the “preparation” area of the facility, and Gemma and Nori were taken back to their “dormitory” cells.
.
.
.
.
Something was...off. Three stormtroopers entered the "dormitory" and headed for Gemma's cell. Two of them grabbed Gemma, and dragged her to the entrance, while the third pulled Nori off and threw Nori to the cot before following Gemma and the other stormtroopers.
They dragged her to the dining room, put binders on her, and made her stand on one side. Ember was brought in, in binders, still in her prison garb having not yet been washed and dressed in the rape-costume. Ember was made to stand alongside Gemma. Gemma cleared her throat. What's going on?
I don't know, Ember replied.
Two stormtroopers opened the door at the far end of the dining hall and held it open. The Emperor's Crimson Guard entered and formed two columns along either side of the door. More stormtroopers entered and formed a phalanx next to the Crimson Guard. Finally, the Emperor entered the room, followed by Vader, and then the Commandant. The Commandant's expression was grim. Vader and the Commandant were both ceremoniously holding devices of some type, as they had held the lightsaber and laser drill when the Emperor had burned his mark into Gemma and Ashti. Behind Vader and the Commandant came Ashti, still dressed in her rape-costume. Her hands were bound and attached to a hover-'droid, and Ashti had trouble keeping up, so that when she stumbled, the 'droid dragged her by the bound wrists unrelentingly. Somehow she managed to take some running steps, and get her feet back under her again. She was followed by uniformed administrator, who were holding various containers. The administrators fanned out behind Vader and the Commandant. They were followed by more stormtroopers, who spread out throughout the room. The Emperor stopped a few feet beyond the head of the columns. He was holding something in one hand, a device of some sort. Vader and the Commandant moved to stand on either side of him. Ashti was brought to a point directly behind the Emperor by the hover-'droid, which rose higher, causing Ashti to have to stand on tip-toe or else hang by her wrists.
The Emperor regarded the two women before him for a long moment, before turning around and pointed to Ashti. "Thith woman—" he proclaimed with a lisp.
Ember suppressed a snigger. But Gemma saw the Commandant's expression, and any temptation she might have had to laugh instantly died.
The Emperor gestured at Ashti again. "Thith woman doth not underthtan' the honor that hath been accorded to her by her Emperor! Thee hath attempted to hurt me by bi-ing my thong." Gemma translated the lisp in her mind. ('This woman does not understand the honor that has been accorded to her by her Emperor. She hs attempted to hurt me by biting my tongue.')
Thee muth learn how tho pwoperwy appwetheate the honor that thee hath been given. An' I think I hath the perfec' theether." ('She must learn how to properly appreciate the honor that has been given. and I think I have the perfect teacher.')
He turned to Vader. "Lor' Vayer--" He held out his hand.
The device from Vader's outstretched hands flew to the Emperor's waiting grasp.
The Emperor walked up to Ashti and held it in front of her eyes. "Thu you know what thith ith? What it doth?" Gemma translated in her head, ('Do you know what this is? What it does?')
"No," Ashti said, fearfully.
"Well, then. Awwow me tho demonthrate." ('Allow me to demonstrate.')
Without warning, he smashed the device against Ashti's mouth, hard, breaking several teeth.
Gemma and Ashti gasped. Ashti screamed.
Lights on the outside of the device came on and started blinking as the device did something inside her mouth. Ashti shook her head violently from side to side as she screamed, and the lights continued blinking.
Suddenly Ashti's screams stopped suddenly, and her head suddenly stopped shaking, facing straight ahead. The lights stopped blinking. Ashti's beautiful eyes were terrified.
"Ah, ith rethee," said the Emperor. Even with having seen this all before in a vision, it took Gemma a second to get past the panic to understand what he was saying, ('Ah, it's ready.') Next to Gemma, Ember was horror-struck and frozen.
The Emperor walked over to Ashti, reached up to her mouth, and pulled part of the device away. Part was left inside her mouth, now implanted there. Blood was drooling out of Ashti's mouth, pouring onto the front of her rape-costume. She was panting heavily, breathing in and out through her nose, and staring at the Emperor with terrified eyes.
The Emperor now held his hand holding the device out to the Commandant. The used device flew from the Emperor's hand to the Commandant's, and the unused device flew from the Commandant to the Emperor, who turned to face Gemma and Ember. All traces of the slight humor Ember had shown earlier were gone.
"Leth theth it, thall we?" ('Let's test it, shall we?')
The Emperor looked at Ashti and said, "Thilenth off." ('Silence off.') Even with his lisp, the device understood him, and a light on the controller in the Emperor's hand flashed once. Immediately, Ashti's wail filled the dining hall.
"Thilenth on," ('Silence on.')
Immediately, Ashti's wail was stopped. Tears spilled out of her eyes.
The Emperor turned to Gemma and Ember and smiled. "Tha' ith the defaul' mode." ('That is the default mode.') He turned back to Ashti. "Open why." ('Open wide.')
The voice-recognized command registered. Immediately, Ashti's mouth opened, to the point where her jaw was almost dislocated. Her broken teeth were clearly visible. Also visible were things, prosthetics, implanted at the top and bottom of her mouth Blood continued to flow out of her mouth and onto her costume.
The Emperor peered into her mouth. "Oh, thothe bwoken theeth will never thu." ('Oh, those broken teeth will never do.') "Thoo ba' we thon' have a thenthith 'throi'!" ('Too bad we don't have a dentist 'droid.') "I thuppothe we will have tho make thu with the ol' fathon metho'". ('I suppose we will have to make do. with the old-fashioned method.') He made a motion, and one of his attendants approached, bearing a pair of pliers. The Emperor held them up for everyone to see.
Ashti sagged silently, her mouth held open by the device and her body held up by her wrists with the hover 'droid. The Emperor approached her. Ashti kicked out with her feet, trying to strike at him. Her body twisted and kicked, but her hands and face never moved, held in place by the hover 'droid and the device implanted in her mouth. Immediately, several stormtroopers rushed forward to grab her legs and prevent her from contacting with the Emperor.
"The nithe thing about thith devithe ith that it holth the head abtholu'ly thill, Obtherve." ('The nice thing about this device is that it holds the head absolutely still. Observe."
With the stormtroopers restraining Ashti's legs, her torso twisted from side to side, but her head never moved. The Emperor stepped around a stormtrooper, then reached inside Ashti's mouth with the pliers. There was a crunching sound, and he turned around again, holding up one of Ashti's top front incisors, with its root clearly visible.
"Thilenth off," said the Emperor. Immediately, Ashti's scream filled the hall.
The Emperor couldn't speak over the noise. He rolled his eyes and pressed a button. Ashti's scream abruptly ceased. "Thilenth back on. Thath beher." ('Silence back on. That's better.')
The Emperor made another motion. Another attendant stepped forward, holding a bowl. The Emperor dropped his grisley prize into the bowl, then held the pliers out towards the Commandant. "the neckth honor ith yourth." ('The next honor is yours.')
The Commandant hesitated for the barest fraction of an instant, then strode up to the Emperor and took the pliers. He then turned towards Ashti, and walked up to her. Ashti 's bodyshook with a silent sob. After another infinitesimal hesitation, the Commandant opened the pliers, reached into Ashti's wide open mouth, and extracted a tooth as quickly as he could.
Ashti's scream was an exhaled breath only the Commandant's ears could hear.
The Commandant closed his eyes for the barest instant, then turned on his heel, returned to the Emperor, and dropped the tooth into the bowl. He returned the pliers to the Emperor, then returned to his original place.
"Well done," said the Emperor. He held the pliers aloft and addressed the Imperial assemblage. "Who will be neckth?" ('Who will be next?')
Some of the Imperials looked at each other. Then one of the administrative officers stepped forward. "I will, your majesty," he said. There was a trace of eagerness in his voice.
The Emperor nodded, and the administrator stepped forward smartly. He took the pliers from the Emperor, went to Ashti, smiled a little, then slowly, slowly extracted one of her teeth.
When it was out, he returned to the Emperor, and dropped the tooth into the bowl.
"Eckthellen' !" ('Excellent!') the Emperor purred, smiling. He raised his gaze to the Commandant. "Commandan', mee' your firth lieutenan'!" (Commandant, meet your first lieutenant!')
The Commandant nodded once, acknowledging the field promotion.
All at once, there was a clamor of volunteers. A line was formed. Ashti's teeth were extracted one by one. Her mouth was a bloody mess, and uniform after uniform was splattered with bloody spray as Ashti exhaled her silent screams. Finally, all the teeth were gone, and Ashti's gums were bleeding so profusely that she passed out, hanging by her wrists from her binders attached to the hover 'droid.
The blissful oblivion was only to last only a moment. The Emperor waved to one of the medical administrators, who sprayed something into Ashti's mouth to stop the bleeding, then injected her arm with something to bring her around again.
The Emperor clapped his hands twice, the signal for the attendant holding the jar to step forward. "Now for thum en'erthainmen'!" ('Now for some entertainment!') He opened the jar and took out a small sphere. "Eeth of theeth hath a differen' tithe for our thuden' thu enthoy." ("Each of these has a different taste for our student to enjoy.') "They ditholve inthanly in an ethplothion of fwavah." ('They explode instantly in an explosion of flavor.') "Of courth, thum have a more pweathen' fwavah fan ufferth." ('Of course, some have a more pleasant flavor than others.') "An' thum aw vewy unpweathen', in'ee'." ('And some are very unpleasant indeed.') He smiled at Ashti. "But aw ah perfeckwy hahmweff. You nee' have no feeah of poithoning or thoking." ('But all are perfectly harmless. You need have no fear of poisoning or choking.')
With that, he tossed the small ball into Ashti's wide open mouth. A yellow spray erupted. Ashti coughed silently.
The Emperor motioned. to another attendant, the one holding a tray bearing two coins and a small bag. From the tray, the Emperor picked up the two coins. One was a standard credit, and the other a shiny gold coin, worth several months of the Commandant's salary. He held up the credit. "Eeth man who thcorth shall earn one of theeth." ("Each man who scores shall win one of these.') "And whoveah thcorth fwom fuhtheth away thall win thith coin!" (And whoever scores from farthest away shall win this coin!")
All of the officers lined up to have a try. Some, including the Commandant, walked right up to Ashti so that they couldn't possibly miss, content with the sure credit, and dropped the sphere into her mouth. Others decided to risk the sure credit for the chance to win the more valuable prize, and tossed their sphere towards her with increasing distance. Gemma caught a whiff of one of the misses and gagged.
Ashti gagged, open mouthed, with many of the "hits." Before long, one of the "hits" caused her to silently throw up all over her costume and on the floor. There was much laughter at that. The Emperor moved the hover-'droid so that the "players" wouldn't have to step in the vomitus to deposit their balls into Ashti's open mouth. There were some other "hits" that caused Ashti to retch silently, but with her stomach emptied, very little came up. What did come up ended up on her chin and on her costume Every time she gagged or retched, there was more laughter. The game took on a party-like atmosphere, and the Emperor seemed to enjoy it immensely.
Finally, the last sphere was gone, and the Emperor held up his hand for silence. He awarded the gold coin to the officer who had landed his sphere from farthest away. Then he reached up to his mouth and tore off the bakta patch that had been covering his tongue. "It appears," he said in a perfectly normal voice, with no trace of his earlier lisp, "that the bakta have done their job. My tongue is healed. And now that that's over with, there is still some business to attend to." He looked at Ashti and smiled. "A female to impregnate." He motioned to the Commandant, who handed him the controller for the device in Ashti's mouth. "I believe you have learned your lesson, haven't you, my Dear?"
He pressed a button, and Ashti's head nodded vigorously up and down.
"You won't ever try anything like that again, will you, my Dear?"
He pressed another button, and Ashti's head shook from side to side.
He motioned for the hover-droid to lower enough for Ashti to stand on her feet. He motioned to a female attendant, who wiped away the blood and spittle remains of the "flavor" balls from Ashti's face and chin.
When the attendant was done and had stepped back to her place, the Emperor approached Ashti and caressed her cheek. Then he pressed a button on the controller, turning it off. Ashti's mouth closed with an audible moan coming from her throat. "Now, my Dear, you won't be tempted to do anything like you did again, will you?"
'Ohh," Ashti moaned. ('No.')
"Good." He caressed her cheek again. "Now let's resume where we left off. And perhaps we can even find a...fun and interesting way to play with this device." He pressed the "open" button on the controller again, and Ashti's mouth once again opened wide without her volition.
She whimpered involuntarily. The Emperor pressed another button, and the whimper was immediately silenced.
The stormtroopers surrounded Gemma and Ashti, preparing to escort them back to their cells or the preparation area.
"That's more open mouth than one needs for a tongue," one of them said.
The other laughed. "You know what he's going to put in there, don't you?"
Gemma cleared her throat. They only had a few seconds before they would be separated.
Ember didn't respond.
Gemma tried again, louder.
Ember let out a low wail.
It wasn't until Gemma cleared her throat for the third time, quite loudly, that she was able to get through to Ember.
I'm here, Ember finally responded, opening the link.
Do whatever he tells you, Gemma sent. Don't fight him.
I won't fight him, Ember replied, as the guards started dragging her back to the preparation area.
.
.
.
.
Gemma didn’t see the other women again until they were taken outside for the Emperor’s departure. Ember was clutching at her crotch and moaning. Ashti stood there with her mouth still open wide and still unable to make any vocalizations. They all knew what was coming next for Ember. Her ordeal wasn't yet over.
Nori stared at Ashti, simultaneously frightened and fascinated by the toothless gums and wide open mouth.
"Say something, Ashti," Nori whispered.
But Ashti could only shake her head.
They only had seconds before the Emperor would emerge from the building. They had to make the best use of those seconds as they could. Gemma cleared her throat.
Ember was too lost in her pain and trauma to respond.
Gemma cleared her throat again, and managed to step on Ember's foot to get her attention.
Finally, Ember looked at her.
Gemma coughed, and looked meaningfully at Ember, then Nori.
Somehow, Ember was able to break through her pain enough to establish the three-way link
Move to my other side, Nori, Gemma whispered into the link.
Why? Nori asked.
I want to be next to Ember.
Why? Nori asked again.
Secret. I'll tell you later. Just do it. Once Nori had moved, Gemma sniffled--the signal to cut someone out of the link. Ember finally realized that Nori was to be cut out, and made the link private with Gemma.
Raise your skirt, Gemma sent. The side next to me.
For a second, Ember didn't quite understand.
He's going to burn you, Gemma sent. Remember? We told you.
Oh, Sweet Force, Ember sent back. Surreptitiously she gathered her skirt into her left hand. Sweet Force, don't let it be so...
Hoping desperately not to attract the guards' attention, Gemma rubbed her hand along Ember's thigh, trying to transfer the last bit of numbing cream she had squeezed into her palm when she heard the guards approaching her cell onto Ember's leg.
Sweet Force, don't let it be so, Ember kept repeating into the link. Sweet Force, please make him spare me. Ember started trembling. She started to sink, and the guards behind her grabbed her arms to hold her up.
Gemma just hoped there was enough of the cream to do some good. She coughed, and sniffed, wanting the link to be broken before the Emperor arrived. There were rumors that he had some telepathic ability.
When the Emperor and Vader and the Commandant emerged from the building, the stormtroopers, administrative personnel, Crimson Guard, and other attendants snapped to attention. Ember’s arms were pulled so that she was forced upright and was no longer able to clutch at herself. Gemma found some small amount of strength in the hand that held Nori’s and in the secret they shared between them, and she was able to maintain her feet, despite the pain in her own groin.
The Commandant and Vader took their places behind him, with the laser drill and lightsaber, respectively, and the Emperor went to where the women were.
He moved to stand before Ember. He smiled. “I suppose your sisters have told you what I must do next.”
Ember shook her head. “Please, don’t,” she begged.
“I’m afraid it’s necessary, my Dear. For your own protection.” He gestured, and more stormtroopers grabbed Ember. Others grabbed Ashti, Gemma, and Nori.
“No!” she cried. “Please, no!”
The Emperor stretched his hand toward the Commandant, and the laser drill flew to his hand. He gestured to Ember’s skirt, which raised seemingly on its own, knelt before her, and inscribed his hideous “P” amidst Ember's screams and struggles against the stormtroopers’ hold. Nori’s screams joined in the noise. This was the first marking Nori was witness to, but she would be witness to every marking in the camp thereafter.
Gemma closed her eyes to block the sight, but could not block the sound. Ashti simply wept. She had no fight left in her whatsoever.
When the Emperor was done inscribing his “P” into Ember’s leg, the laser drill flew back to the Commandant’s hands. Despite the tiny bit of pain cream Gemma had managed to apply to Ember’s leg, the pain from the burn was still excruciating, and Ember was unable to either stand on her own or stop her wail of pain.
“Now,” said the Emperor, “What boon would you have of me?”
Ember was unable to answer, even though she had been coached on this ahead of time. The pain was too great, and she was unable to think clearly.
“Nothing?” The Emperor said. “Well, then—”
“Something for the pain?” Gemma said, speaking out of turn, hoping not to waste this small opportunity.
Ember nodded. “Y-yes, please. S-something for the p-pain!”
The Emperor sent an amused glance towards the Commandant, who nodded. “Very well. Something for the pain.”
The Emperor then turned to address the ensemble. “She is mine, now. No one else touches her!”
He turned to stride toward his shuttle. Vader returned his lightsaber to his belt and followed him, and the Commandant returned the laser drill to his pocket before running to catch up with the Emperor. "Your majesty, you're forgetting something! The woman Ashti. You cannot mean to leave her like that!"
"I did not forget," the Emperor said, continuing to walk.
"Well, then," the Commandant said, "as long as you do not blame me if she or the potential child suffers some form of permanent damage because she cannot swallow properly with a gaping mouth...." he shrugged unconcernedly.
The Emperor stopped finally, and turned to regard Ashti. Finally, he gestured to one of his attendants, who produced the controller for Ashti's device.
"Half-open," the Emperor said into it.
Immediately, Ashti's mouth closed half-way, just enough that she could close her lips over her gums.
The Emperor returned the device to the attendant. "That should be sufficient for eating and. drinking."
"With some difficulty," the Commandant noted, smiling.
"Of course. We wouldn't want her to forget her lesson too quickly, now, would we?"
The Emperor turned and headed up the gangplank into his shuttle, followed by his contingent . Once the doors closed and the gangplank began folding away, the Commandant motioned to his own stormtroopers to take Ashti, Gemma, Nori, and Ember back to the “dormitory.” Ashti and Gemma were able to limp on their own. Ember was dragged by a pair of stormtroopers. Nori was simply thrown over one stormtrooper’s shoulder so they wouldn't have to slow their pace to match her smaller child steps..
.
.
.
.
The women gathered in Ember’s cell. Gemma spread a layer of cream from the fresh tube over Ember’s burn, and squeezed some into Ember’s hand for her to rub over the tears in her vulva herself. Ashti held Ember and soothed her as best she could as Ember cried. “I thought the rape was bad enough. But this—" She pressed her hand against her leg.
Gemma capped the tube of numbing cream and handed it to her. “Try to use it as sparingly as you can. We don’t know when or if there will be more.
Ember nodded, then grasped Gemma’s hand. “Thank you. For helping me out there. Both before…and after. I couldn’t think straight.”
“I know.”
“How does a psychopath like that get into a position of power?” Ember wondered.
Ashti coughed. The Emperor had not unfrozen her voice box, but she still had a way to communicate with the other women.
Ember established the 3-way link.
How did a psychopath get into power? Ashti sent, repeating Ember's question. He hid it. Hid it until it was too late. And when it might have mattered, anyone who could do anything about it was too afraid of losing their lives or their livelihood, to make waves. And then there are those who actually applaud his cruelty, and think it somehow makes him stronger.
They heard the gate to the "dormitory" open and close, and footsteps heading towards them. Ashti signaled to cut the link before the guard--or actually, the Commandant, as it turned out--could reach Ember's cell, after pausing at Ashti's, Gemma's, and Nori's cells.
He filled the door frame. 'I warned you," he said angrily. "And I took a great risk upon myself to do it. Yet you defied him anyway." He entered the cell and looked pointedly down at Ashti. "Didn't you understand?".
Ashti's lips moved, but no sound came from her.
"What?" the Commandant asked.
Ashti gestured to Gemma with points and miming of writing. Gemma nodded and hobbled to Nori's room next door to get paper and a crayon.
When she returned, the Commandant was still seething. "I warned you!"
Ashti nodded and scribbled a message on the paper, and held it up for the Commandant to see.
I understood.
"Then, why?" the Commandant asked.
Ashti scribbled something below what she had previously written, and held it up again.
"But she didn't," the Commandant read. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Ashti let out a breath that could only be one of frustration, then looked at Gemma.and jabbed at the top line.
"I understood," Gemma translated, Ashti jabbed her finger at the middle word on the second line. "But she didn't."
"'She'?" the Commandant said, confused.
Ashti pointed at Ember, who closed her eyes and let out a sob.
The Commandant stared at Ember in disbelief. "You didn't understand?"
"I was going to do it," Ember sobbed. "I was going to bite his tongue off, but Ashti did it first. What he did to her...he would have done to me."
The Commandant was incredulous. He turned back to Ashti. "So you did it first? To keep her from doing it?"
Ashti nodded.
Drool dribbled out of the mouth that she couldn't close. Gemma used part of her skirt to wipe it away. "I love you, Ashti," Gemma whispered, and wrapped her arms around the other woman.
Ashti leaned against Gemma's shoulder, and a breath that might have been either a moan or a sigh passed out of her mouth.
"I'm so sorry, Ashti," Ember sobbed. "I didn't know you would do that. I didn't know he would do that."
The Commandant stared at Ember. "But you understand now, I hope, what it means to defy the Emperor?"
Ember nodded. "I won't do it again. I won't do anything like that again, I swear."
'It's on you now,' the Commandant told her, "to make sure the new women understand."
"Are there new women?" Gemma asked.
"They will be brought. Eventually. All of you," the Commandant's gaze swept over all three of the women, "must make sure that the others understand what to expect if they defy the Emperor. This—" he indicated Ashti "—is the most mild of his punishments. Do not defy him again!"
Ashti reached a hand to touch Ember's hand. Their hands joined, and Ashti pulled Ember against her, so that the three women were huddled together. Ashti cleared her throat, and immediately felt Ember's presence despite the Commandant's proximity.
I love you, Ember, Ashti sent.
I love you, too, Ashti, was Ember's response. I'm so sorry.'
The Commandant looked at the three women huddled together as a group, then settled on Ashti individually. "You really should thank me, you know," he said.
Ashti released Gemma to reach for the paper and crayon. For what? she wrote.
The Commandant swallowed, remembering. "In the other camp, the woman who tried that was nearly killed, choking on a worm that the Emperor had put in her mouth. He pulled it out, of course, but the process of its removal was...extremely painful for her. Then, when the Emperor had gone, the guards had thought to continue the game. Then they made a new game, to see how much disgusting matter could they stuff into her mouth all at once. Naturally, she choked on that, as well, and nearly died. I was only just able to save her. I convinced the Emperor that the taste bombs were a better idea, and offered less risk to a potential breeder. It's an old Academy game, actually. The other woman went on to bear several sons."
Ashti wrote on her paper and held it up: Thank you. The Commandant nodded. Then Ashti took the paper back and added a question mark: Thank you?
"It might have been kinder to let the other woman die," Gemma muttered. Ashti nodded.
"Well, if you won't thank me for that, maybe you'll thank me for something else. Mouth still hurt?"
A shaky breath escaped Ashti's throat.
"What do you think?" Gemma said.
The Commandant reached into his uniform and pulled out a small jar of something. This he tossed at Ashti. Gemma caught it and looked at it. An oral healing gel.
"Rub a little of that on your gums every few hours. I'll come get what's left in a few days. Don't tell anyone I gave it to you."
Gemma opened the jar and put a little on her finger and rubbed in on Ashti's raw, swollen gums when Ashti turned her face to her.
The Commandant watched for a moment, then turned and walked to the door. Then he stopped and looked back at Ashti. "It's a damn shame," he said to Ashti. "You were so beautiful!"
Ashti stretched her lips as best she could, giving him a toothless, gummy, open-mouthed, silent, mirthless grin--a macabre caricature of what had once been her lovely smile..
The Commandant shuddered, and left.
-----
Chapter Eleven--"A Matter of Routine"
At first, Nori was frightened of Ashti. But Gemma and Ember had tried to reassure her that Ashti was still the same person, despite the fact that her teeth were now gone, and despite the device that had been implanted in her mouth and throat, preventing her from speaking. But eventually, the girl had tentatively entered Ashti's cell, seeking her nightly comfort. Ashti silently lifted her blanket, inviting the child to lie down next to her, and Nori had hesitantly found refuge in Ashti's bed. Ashti wrapped her arm around the girl, and after a hesitant moment, Nori snuggled next to her warmth.
Thereafter, Nori added Ashti back into her rotation, seeking night time comfort mostly from Gemma and Ashti, but occasionally visiting Ember.
Ember had gotten pregnant immediately. Ashti had failed to conceive on the visit when her teeth had been removed--it was chalked up to the stress of enduring the Emperor's punishment--but her meds were adjusted, and the Emperor's next visit after that proved more fruitful. Gemma, too became pregnant for a short time, but the fetus was female again. Terminated.
Ashti and Ember were both pregnant with boys, so for a while, Gemma was the only recipient of the Emperor's more...intimate... 'attentions,' but Ashti was still something of a plaything for him, with her remote-controlled mouth making her the object of his "games." But he dared not rape her or do any worse than make her the target for his disgusting "flavor-bomb" games while she was pregnant. Extra rewards were given if the player could make Ashti throw up with one of the balls instead of mere gagging--an accomplishment that occurred more often in the early stages of her pregnancy.
Gemma's next pregnancy was a male, but it had a severe chromosomal abnormality.
Terminated.
The next one failed to implant.
Another pregnancy. Female again. Terminated.
Each time the Emperor ‘serviced’ her, Gemma became somewhat ...more indifferent to--or perhaps less terrified of...his rapes. Despite the pain, despite the fact that she hated it, she knew what to expect, and knew that she would survive, at least. She was compliant, did everything he ordered her to do. There was no fault to be found in her actions, no defiance to his commands, but month by month, she became more and more apathetic. She still hated the rapes, of course, but they had lost some of their terror. And as that happened, the Emperor became more and more bored by her. Finally came the day when her pregnancies were conceived in the medical bay rather than by his personal attentions. But none of them lasted more than a few weeks--just long enough to determine that the fetus was another female, or if male, that it had a chromosomal abnormality.
Gemma had wondered why the Emperor didn't just have himself cloned. But then Ashti explained that clones generally had less intelligence than the original, and usually did not live as long as the original, often developing some defect or other that the original did not manifest.
Finally, Ember's and Ashti's sons were born, about a month apart. The Emperor granted them "boons" as rewards for having successfully delivered. Ashti was given back control of her jaw and her voice. Ashti's "boon" was only for while the Emperor was away. When he was on a visit, she was still subject to his control. Ember asked for more pain cream.
With the babies to tend and Nori's education to look after, things became more or less a matter of routine, broken only by the Emperor's occasional visits, which only Gemma would have to suffer. A successful pregnancy gave the mother a reprieve of sorts until the mother could recover enough to start the fertility cycles again, so Ember and Ashti would not be "serviced" again until the boys were a few months old.
Another woman was brought to the camp, Harlow. She was another telepath, untrained and not very strong. Vader hadn't even been looking for her, but came across her by chance and felt something of the Force about her, and so had captured her. It was Ashti and Ember who had figured out what her gift was, once Harlow had recovered sufficiently from her initial rape and "marking" that she was able to concentrate on something other than her own pain and trauma. When the babies and Nori were asleep, the women would gather in one cell or another, and set about honing their gifts with combined effort. There may come a time, Ashti insisted, when these gifts may be of use, possibly even to help defeat the Emperor. That thought gave them the strength to endure.
In the meantime, Harlow had learned from Ashti's example what it meant to defy the Emperor, and knew that the only option was compliance.
They were now four-strong, plus Nori and the babies.
Before long, they would become five.
At first, Nori was frightened of Ashti. But Gemma and Ember had tried to reassure her that Ashti was still the same person, despite the fact that her teeth were now gone, and despite the device that had been implanted in her mouth and throat, preventing her from speaking. But eventually, the girl had tentatively entered Ashti's cell, seeking her nightly comfort. Ashti silently lifted her blanket, inviting the child to lie down next to her, and Nori had hesitantly found refuge in Ashti's bed. Ashti wrapped her arm around the girl, and after a hesitant moment, Nori snuggled next to her warmth.
Thereafter, Nori added Ashti back into her rotation, seeking night time comfort mostly from Gemma and Ashti, but occasionally visiting Ember.
Ember had gotten pregnant immediately. Ashti had failed to conceive on the visit when her teeth had been removed--it was chalked up to the stress of enduring the Emperor's punishment--but her meds were adjusted, and the Emperor's next visit after that proved more fruitful. Gemma, too became pregnant for a short time, but the fetus was female again. Terminated.
Ashti and Ember were both pregnant with boys, so for a while, Gemma was the only recipient of the Emperor's more...intimate... 'attentions,' but Ashti was still something of a plaything for him, with her remote-controlled mouth making her the object of his "games." But he dared not rape her or do any worse than make her the target for his disgusting "flavor-bomb" games while she was pregnant. Extra rewards were given if the player could make Ashti throw up with one of the balls instead of mere gagging--an accomplishment that occurred more often in the early stages of her pregnancy.
Gemma's next pregnancy was a male, but it had a severe chromosomal abnormality.
Terminated.
The next one failed to implant.
Another pregnancy. Female again. Terminated.
Each time the Emperor ‘serviced’ her, Gemma became somewhat ...more indifferent to--or perhaps less terrified of...his rapes. Despite the pain, despite the fact that she hated it, she knew what to expect, and knew that she would survive, at least. She was compliant, did everything he ordered her to do. There was no fault to be found in her actions, no defiance to his commands, but month by month, she became more and more apathetic. She still hated the rapes, of course, but they had lost some of their terror. And as that happened, the Emperor became more and more bored by her. Finally came the day when her pregnancies were conceived in the medical bay rather than by his personal attentions. But none of them lasted more than a few weeks--just long enough to determine that the fetus was another female, or if male, that it had a chromosomal abnormality.
Gemma had wondered why the Emperor didn't just have himself cloned. But then Ashti explained that clones generally had less intelligence than the original, and usually did not live as long as the original, often developing some defect or other that the original did not manifest.
Finally, Ember's and Ashti's sons were born, about a month apart. The Emperor granted them "boons" as rewards for having successfully delivered. Ashti was given back control of her jaw and her voice. Ashti's "boon" was only for while the Emperor was away. When he was on a visit, she was still subject to his control. Ember asked for more pain cream.
With the babies to tend and Nori's education to look after, things became more or less a matter of routine, broken only by the Emperor's occasional visits, which only Gemma would have to suffer. A successful pregnancy gave the mother a reprieve of sorts until the mother could recover enough to start the fertility cycles again, so Ember and Ashti would not be "serviced" again until the boys were a few months old.
Another woman was brought to the camp, Harlow. She was another telepath, untrained and not very strong. Vader hadn't even been looking for her, but came across her by chance and felt something of the Force about her, and so had captured her. It was Ashti and Ember who had figured out what her gift was, once Harlow had recovered sufficiently from her initial rape and "marking" that she was able to concentrate on something other than her own pain and trauma. When the babies and Nori were asleep, the women would gather in one cell or another, and set about honing their gifts with combined effort. There may come a time, Ashti insisted, when these gifts may be of use, possibly even to help defeat the Emperor. That thought gave them the strength to endure.
In the meantime, Harlow had learned from Ashti's example what it meant to defy the Emperor, and knew that the only option was compliance.
They were now four-strong, plus Nori and the babies.
Before long, they would become five.
-----
Chapter Twelve--"Wren"
The Commandant was pleased. The women were compliant. He had hoped to not have to witness any more brutalities beyond the Marking that every woman who came to his camp was subject to.
Then the fifth woman was brought to Camp Quartus. Her name was Wren. No one, not even Wren herself, knew what ability she had, until it was too late to do anything about it. Wren was young, like Gemma, but without the benefit of a Jedi Master's guidance.
She was like Gemma in one other way, too, which they wouldn't learn until later.
At first, the other women had thought she would endure, as they had.
They couldn't have been more wrong.
Despite having been coached and warned, despite the assurance that she would survive, despite everything the women had done to try to prepare her beforehand, Wren found just the rape itself to be unbearable. She didn't survive long enough to even be marked. She ended it for herself while the Emperor was still thrusting from his initial breach. He was so wrapped up in his own pleasure that he didn't even realize until after he had spent his seed that it would never find fertile ground. He didn't realize until he stuck his tongue in her mouth with his "kiss" test that he was kissing a corpse, and that realization was disgusting to him.
By the time he had thrown his robe on and called for medical personnel, it was too late to revive Wren.
Palpatine was furious.
Someone would have to pay the price for this defiance, for the fact that he had raped and kissed a corpse.
.
.
.
.
The women were brought outside much sooner than expected, and without Nori or the babies, "Just the Breeders" as Gemma had overheard one guard tell another.
Something was wrong. They had known it even before the guards came, by the way their group presence felt diminished. Outside, they saw the Commandant's grim expression. He was holding the hover-binders that had been used on Ashti when her teeth were removed, and again for the Emperor's games. Then Wren's body was brought out, unceremoniously carried by a stormtrooper and dumped on the ground in front of them. The stormtrooper was followed by the Emperor, whose face was twisted with rage.
There was a collective gasp and hushed whispers among the women. These were quickly ended when the women glanced at the Emperor and saw the fury clearly visible on his face.
A terror developed among the women.
The Emperor glared at them. "It seems that you did not teach her properly," he said to them, once they were lined up."Did you not teach her that she belonged to me? Whether or not she yet bore my mark is immaterial. She was mine! You are all mine! I am your Emperor! Your bodies belong to me. I alone decide whether you may live or die! You do not choose for yourself! You are all vassals, nothing more! You are all subject to your Emeror's will, not your own! I do not know how to impress this fact upon you, except to make one of you proxy for her transgression!"
He signaled to the Commandant, who stepped forward, holding the hover-binders, then went to stand in front of the last woman in the line, Harlow, who trembled as he looked her over. The Commandant followed.
"Is she pregnant?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," the Commandant replied. "A boy."
The Emperor moved on to Ember, whose swollen belly needed no question to ascertain her pregnancy status, then moved on.
He stopped in front of Gemma, raised a finger at her amusingly. "You," he said, "have been here long enough to bear me at least one son, and yet you have not. It would be no great loss to terminate you."
Gemma's legs gave out. Her guards tightened their grips on her arms to prevent her from sagging.
"Hold out your hands!" the Emperor ordered.
Trembling, Gemma raised her hands in front of her. There was something like pity in the Commandant's eyes as he moved to put the binders around her wrists. A sob escaped Gemma.
"It wash me!" Ashti said suddenly, lisping through her toothless gums.. "I told Wren there was only one way out of the camp, and she should end her life if she could!"
"Ashti--" Gemma whispered. She knew that Ashti had done no such thing.
"And ish not Gemma's faul' if you can't ge' her pregnan' wif a boy! Don' you know the shexsh is determined by da fahver?"
Tears rolled down Gemma's face. Ashti was going to take her place, as she had done with Ember.
The Emperor studied Ashti. "Is she pregnant?" he asked the Commandant.
"No--" the Commandant cleared his throat snd spoke again. "No, Your Majesty. The female fetus was terminated."
The Emperor extended a finger at Gemma. "Has this one ever given you any trouble?"
"No, Your Majesty. She has been obedient from the first."
"Hmmm." The Emperor swept his finger from Gemma to Ashti.. "Let's use her. instead"
The Commandant unfastened the binders from Gemma and put them on Ashti. He detached the controller from the hover-binders and handed it to the Emperor. The Emperor pressed and held a button, and Ashti's arms were forced to raise over her head. Her toes lifted from the ground. She was dangling from her wrists before the Emperor let go of the button. He used the controller to drag her to the front center of the row of women, and turned her so that she faced away from the group. 'Strip her!"
The Commandant hesitated just the barest of moments, then strode to Ashti, grabbed the prison tunic at the back of the neck, and pulled hard. The fabric was rent down the center of her back. Then he grabbed two handfuls on one side, and ripped down one sleeve, and then did the same on the other side. The tunic, now in rags, fell to the ground, leaving Ashti completely naked.
Her legs kicked out helplessly.
The Emperor looked at the Commandant. "Restrain her," the Emperor said.
The Commandant gestured to Ashti's guards, who moved forward to grab and hold her legs.
The Emperor handed the hover-binder controller to an attendant, and held a hand out in Darth Vader's direction, and Vader's lightsaber flew to his hand.
The Emperor activated the weapon, held it vertically, point upward, and walked slowly to Ashti.
"No..." Gemma whispered.
Ashti struggled uselessly. The Emperor held the weapon directly behind her head for a moment, forcing her to hear the energy hum for a long moment. . Then he inverted the weapon so that the beam pointed downward, and pressed the beam into the left side her back, parallel to her spine.
Ashti screamed.
The Emperor didn't press the weapon through her body, as he might have done if he wanted to kill her, but pulled the weapon away again, and turned the lightsaber right side up again. Then he used the tip edge to inscribe a half-circle that started from the top of the line, crossed over to the right side of her back, curved around, and then met the vertical line at about the middle, to make a large somewhat irregular "P" as Ashti's body jerked and reflexively tried to escape the torture.
Ashti continued to scream, the sound punctuated only by gasps of air before resuming.
Satisfied with his work, the Emperor deactivated the weapon, and it flew back to Vader's waiting hand. He motioned to the guards who had been holding Ashti's legs that they could release her. He then watched Ashti as she kicked and jerked, and listened to her prolonged scream for a long moment, smiling to himself. Then his head began to hurt, and he gestured to the attendant who held the controller for the device that had been implanted into Ashti's mouth and voice box. The attendant handed the controller over, the Emperor jabbed a button, and Ashti's screams were immediately silenced. He gave the controller back to the attendant and continued to watch Ashti vainly and silently kick her legs as she dangled from the hover-binders.
The smell of burnt flesh permeated the air.
Finally, the Emperor turned back to face the assemblage, his smile never leaving his face. "I trust you all understand now?" he said.
Mutely, all the women nodded, even as tears streamed down their faces.
The Emperor turned to the Commandant. "Return the Breeders to their quarters--except for her." He pointed to Gemma. "Have her prepared, and then brought to my private bedchamber."
"Yes, Your Majesty," the Commandant replied. He operated the controls of the hover-binders so that Ashti's naked body was dragged, still kicking, back inside the compound, gestured for most of the guards to follow him, and for Gemma's guards to take her to the preparation area.
.
.
.
.
After being hurriedly washed and dressed, Gemma was taken to a different room than the ones she had previously been taken to. This time, instead of being made to wait on the Emperor, he was already waiting for her. And instead of being dressed in his dressing robe, he was wearing the same ceremonial clothing he had been wearing when he had burned Ashti's back.
"Leave us," he told the guards and the female attendants.
Gemma watched them leave, and then looked around the room in some confusion. Instead of the rape-bed with its retractable shackles, this looked to be an ordinary large bed, luxuriously appointed, but otherwise ordinary.
He smiled at her. "You, my Dear, have been useless as a Breeder."
"I know," Gemma whispered. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I can't explain it."
"Hmmm," the Emperor said doubtfully. Then, "You're a Seer, I believe?"
Gemma nodded. "Of limited ability."
"Do you see yourself with a child?"
"I...I can't say, Your Majesty. It's too...murky."
"Well, I suppose we'll just have to keep trying."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"In the meantime, there might be some other way you can serve me."
"What--what do you mean, Your Majesty?"
The Emperor spread his arms. "Pleasure me, Seer. Make it worth my while to keep you alive."
Gemma swallowed. "I shall do my best, Your Majesty."
.
.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
.
.
Aviva rubbed her eyes tiredly, and lifted her eyes to Luke and Rupert. "I became the Emperor's whore," she told them. "While Ashti lay moaning silently in her agony, I became solely concerned with seeing to the Emperor's pleasure. And it pleased him to hurt me in many small ways. When he left Camp Quartus, he took me with him. For the next month or so, he took me with him on his travels. I obeyed any instructions the Emperor gave me, to the letter. I trembled and cried when he engaged in his little tortures, but I obeyed. I did whatever he ordered. To do otherwise meant punishment for myself, as well as for the women back in Camp Quartus. I was all compliance--except in bearing him a male heir. I had learned, as the Commandant had previously told Ashti, that the secret to survival was compliance. Seeing that I was obedient, and being unable to find any outward fault in my manner, the Emperor finally became bored with me, and returned me to Camp Quartus. I had become pregnant again, you see, but with another female. I suggested that instead of a male heir, he might consider a female heir. He appeared to contemplate the notion, and I pretended gladness at being able to serve him at last, but in the end, he decided to terminate the pregnancy, anyway."
"You knew he would," Luke said.
Aviva smiled. "I knew he would."
"How?" Rupert asked.
"I was a Seer, remember?"
"You were more than just a Seer," Luke said. "It wasn't just chance that made all your pregnancies female, was it?"
"Ah, you caught that, did you? But not all of my pregnancies were female."
"You managed to ensure that the males weren't brought to term, either."
"I don't understand" said Rupert. "How?"
"She's a Bio-Mech," Luke explained. "A Bio-Mechanic."
Aviva nodded. "As was Wren. Although we didn't know that about her until she was gone."
"But you were very gifted, and very well trained, unless I miss my guess. To be able to control the gender of your pregnancies? That must have taken extraordinary control."
"Master Chu was primarily known to be a Seer. But he had that secret gift, as well. That's why Father sent him to me."
"And the Emperor didn't know?"
"Not for certain. He may have suspected, but he didn't know. And I made certain that some of the female fetuses had the same chromosomal defect that the male fetuses did, to try to alleviate some of his suspicions."
"You could have...blocked the pain. Or done what Wren did."
"I couldn't. If I had, he would have known. I couldn't block. I had to feel everything, at least when he was near, or he would have known."
"He tested you."
"Yes. If I had failed, if he had learned my secret, he would have done worse than he did. He would have lobotomized me and attached me to life-support machines permanently, or hurt the others, or something worse. I would have lost all control over my body entirely."
"So you endured," Luke said.
Aviva nodded. "So I endured. I hated the pain, but even more, I wanted to bring no child into a sphere of the Emperor's influence. None of us did."
Luke smiled, just a little. "You can't be that much of a coward to choose to endure all that you did."
"I did not choose. If I had chosen, I would never have chosen to endure that."
"You could have ended it for yourself the way Wren did."
"No. Master Chu had said that I had a higher purpose than just breeding stock. I tried to see what that purpose might be, but I could not. All I saw was Nori, holding a babe, giving the babe to a woman I didn't know."
Luke glanced at Rupert. "You helped Nori survive long enough to do that. Perhaps that was your purpose."
Aviva fell silent for a moment, thinking. "Perhaps," she said. "Now, I no longer have any purpose left. Except, perhaps, to finish telling my story."
The Commandant was pleased. The women were compliant. He had hoped to not have to witness any more brutalities beyond the Marking that every woman who came to his camp was subject to.
Then the fifth woman was brought to Camp Quartus. Her name was Wren. No one, not even Wren herself, knew what ability she had, until it was too late to do anything about it. Wren was young, like Gemma, but without the benefit of a Jedi Master's guidance.
She was like Gemma in one other way, too, which they wouldn't learn until later.
At first, the other women had thought she would endure, as they had.
They couldn't have been more wrong.
Despite having been coached and warned, despite the assurance that she would survive, despite everything the women had done to try to prepare her beforehand, Wren found just the rape itself to be unbearable. She didn't survive long enough to even be marked. She ended it for herself while the Emperor was still thrusting from his initial breach. He was so wrapped up in his own pleasure that he didn't even realize until after he had spent his seed that it would never find fertile ground. He didn't realize until he stuck his tongue in her mouth with his "kiss" test that he was kissing a corpse, and that realization was disgusting to him.
By the time he had thrown his robe on and called for medical personnel, it was too late to revive Wren.
Palpatine was furious.
Someone would have to pay the price for this defiance, for the fact that he had raped and kissed a corpse.
.
.
.
.
The women were brought outside much sooner than expected, and without Nori or the babies, "Just the Breeders" as Gemma had overheard one guard tell another.
Something was wrong. They had known it even before the guards came, by the way their group presence felt diminished. Outside, they saw the Commandant's grim expression. He was holding the hover-binders that had been used on Ashti when her teeth were removed, and again for the Emperor's games. Then Wren's body was brought out, unceremoniously carried by a stormtrooper and dumped on the ground in front of them. The stormtrooper was followed by the Emperor, whose face was twisted with rage.
There was a collective gasp and hushed whispers among the women. These were quickly ended when the women glanced at the Emperor and saw the fury clearly visible on his face.
A terror developed among the women.
The Emperor glared at them. "It seems that you did not teach her properly," he said to them, once they were lined up."Did you not teach her that she belonged to me? Whether or not she yet bore my mark is immaterial. She was mine! You are all mine! I am your Emperor! Your bodies belong to me. I alone decide whether you may live or die! You do not choose for yourself! You are all vassals, nothing more! You are all subject to your Emeror's will, not your own! I do not know how to impress this fact upon you, except to make one of you proxy for her transgression!"
He signaled to the Commandant, who stepped forward, holding the hover-binders, then went to stand in front of the last woman in the line, Harlow, who trembled as he looked her over. The Commandant followed.
"Is she pregnant?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," the Commandant replied. "A boy."
The Emperor moved on to Ember, whose swollen belly needed no question to ascertain her pregnancy status, then moved on.
He stopped in front of Gemma, raised a finger at her amusingly. "You," he said, "have been here long enough to bear me at least one son, and yet you have not. It would be no great loss to terminate you."
Gemma's legs gave out. Her guards tightened their grips on her arms to prevent her from sagging.
"Hold out your hands!" the Emperor ordered.
Trembling, Gemma raised her hands in front of her. There was something like pity in the Commandant's eyes as he moved to put the binders around her wrists. A sob escaped Gemma.
"It wash me!" Ashti said suddenly, lisping through her toothless gums.. "I told Wren there was only one way out of the camp, and she should end her life if she could!"
"Ashti--" Gemma whispered. She knew that Ashti had done no such thing.
"And ish not Gemma's faul' if you can't ge' her pregnan' wif a boy! Don' you know the shexsh is determined by da fahver?"
Tears rolled down Gemma's face. Ashti was going to take her place, as she had done with Ember.
The Emperor studied Ashti. "Is she pregnant?" he asked the Commandant.
"No--" the Commandant cleared his throat snd spoke again. "No, Your Majesty. The female fetus was terminated."
The Emperor extended a finger at Gemma. "Has this one ever given you any trouble?"
"No, Your Majesty. She has been obedient from the first."
"Hmmm." The Emperor swept his finger from Gemma to Ashti.. "Let's use her. instead"
The Commandant unfastened the binders from Gemma and put them on Ashti. He detached the controller from the hover-binders and handed it to the Emperor. The Emperor pressed and held a button, and Ashti's arms were forced to raise over her head. Her toes lifted from the ground. She was dangling from her wrists before the Emperor let go of the button. He used the controller to drag her to the front center of the row of women, and turned her so that she faced away from the group. 'Strip her!"
The Commandant hesitated just the barest of moments, then strode to Ashti, grabbed the prison tunic at the back of the neck, and pulled hard. The fabric was rent down the center of her back. Then he grabbed two handfuls on one side, and ripped down one sleeve, and then did the same on the other side. The tunic, now in rags, fell to the ground, leaving Ashti completely naked.
Her legs kicked out helplessly.
The Emperor looked at the Commandant. "Restrain her," the Emperor said.
The Commandant gestured to Ashti's guards, who moved forward to grab and hold her legs.
The Emperor handed the hover-binder controller to an attendant, and held a hand out in Darth Vader's direction, and Vader's lightsaber flew to his hand.
The Emperor activated the weapon, held it vertically, point upward, and walked slowly to Ashti.
"No..." Gemma whispered.
Ashti struggled uselessly. The Emperor held the weapon directly behind her head for a moment, forcing her to hear the energy hum for a long moment. . Then he inverted the weapon so that the beam pointed downward, and pressed the beam into the left side her back, parallel to her spine.
Ashti screamed.
The Emperor didn't press the weapon through her body, as he might have done if he wanted to kill her, but pulled the weapon away again, and turned the lightsaber right side up again. Then he used the tip edge to inscribe a half-circle that started from the top of the line, crossed over to the right side of her back, curved around, and then met the vertical line at about the middle, to make a large somewhat irregular "P" as Ashti's body jerked and reflexively tried to escape the torture.
Ashti continued to scream, the sound punctuated only by gasps of air before resuming.
Satisfied with his work, the Emperor deactivated the weapon, and it flew back to Vader's waiting hand. He motioned to the guards who had been holding Ashti's legs that they could release her. He then watched Ashti as she kicked and jerked, and listened to her prolonged scream for a long moment, smiling to himself. Then his head began to hurt, and he gestured to the attendant who held the controller for the device that had been implanted into Ashti's mouth and voice box. The attendant handed the controller over, the Emperor jabbed a button, and Ashti's screams were immediately silenced. He gave the controller back to the attendant and continued to watch Ashti vainly and silently kick her legs as she dangled from the hover-binders.
The smell of burnt flesh permeated the air.
Finally, the Emperor turned back to face the assemblage, his smile never leaving his face. "I trust you all understand now?" he said.
Mutely, all the women nodded, even as tears streamed down their faces.
The Emperor turned to the Commandant. "Return the Breeders to their quarters--except for her." He pointed to Gemma. "Have her prepared, and then brought to my private bedchamber."
"Yes, Your Majesty," the Commandant replied. He operated the controls of the hover-binders so that Ashti's naked body was dragged, still kicking, back inside the compound, gestured for most of the guards to follow him, and for Gemma's guards to take her to the preparation area.
.
.
.
.
After being hurriedly washed and dressed, Gemma was taken to a different room than the ones she had previously been taken to. This time, instead of being made to wait on the Emperor, he was already waiting for her. And instead of being dressed in his dressing robe, he was wearing the same ceremonial clothing he had been wearing when he had burned Ashti's back.
"Leave us," he told the guards and the female attendants.
Gemma watched them leave, and then looked around the room in some confusion. Instead of the rape-bed with its retractable shackles, this looked to be an ordinary large bed, luxuriously appointed, but otherwise ordinary.
He smiled at her. "You, my Dear, have been useless as a Breeder."
"I know," Gemma whispered. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I can't explain it."
"Hmmm," the Emperor said doubtfully. Then, "You're a Seer, I believe?"
Gemma nodded. "Of limited ability."
"Do you see yourself with a child?"
"I...I can't say, Your Majesty. It's too...murky."
"Well, I suppose we'll just have to keep trying."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"In the meantime, there might be some other way you can serve me."
"What--what do you mean, Your Majesty?"
The Emperor spread his arms. "Pleasure me, Seer. Make it worth my while to keep you alive."
Gemma swallowed. "I shall do my best, Your Majesty."
.
.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
.
.
Aviva rubbed her eyes tiredly, and lifted her eyes to Luke and Rupert. "I became the Emperor's whore," she told them. "While Ashti lay moaning silently in her agony, I became solely concerned with seeing to the Emperor's pleasure. And it pleased him to hurt me in many small ways. When he left Camp Quartus, he took me with him. For the next month or so, he took me with him on his travels. I obeyed any instructions the Emperor gave me, to the letter. I trembled and cried when he engaged in his little tortures, but I obeyed. I did whatever he ordered. To do otherwise meant punishment for myself, as well as for the women back in Camp Quartus. I was all compliance--except in bearing him a male heir. I had learned, as the Commandant had previously told Ashti, that the secret to survival was compliance. Seeing that I was obedient, and being unable to find any outward fault in my manner, the Emperor finally became bored with me, and returned me to Camp Quartus. I had become pregnant again, you see, but with another female. I suggested that instead of a male heir, he might consider a female heir. He appeared to contemplate the notion, and I pretended gladness at being able to serve him at last, but in the end, he decided to terminate the pregnancy, anyway."
"You knew he would," Luke said.
Aviva smiled. "I knew he would."
"How?" Rupert asked.
"I was a Seer, remember?"
"You were more than just a Seer," Luke said. "It wasn't just chance that made all your pregnancies female, was it?"
"Ah, you caught that, did you? But not all of my pregnancies were female."
"You managed to ensure that the males weren't brought to term, either."
"I don't understand" said Rupert. "How?"
"She's a Bio-Mech," Luke explained. "A Bio-Mechanic."
Aviva nodded. "As was Wren. Although we didn't know that about her until she was gone."
"But you were very gifted, and very well trained, unless I miss my guess. To be able to control the gender of your pregnancies? That must have taken extraordinary control."
"Master Chu was primarily known to be a Seer. But he had that secret gift, as well. That's why Father sent him to me."
"And the Emperor didn't know?"
"Not for certain. He may have suspected, but he didn't know. And I made certain that some of the female fetuses had the same chromosomal defect that the male fetuses did, to try to alleviate some of his suspicions."
"You could have...blocked the pain. Or done what Wren did."
"I couldn't. If I had, he would have known. I couldn't block. I had to feel everything, at least when he was near, or he would have known."
"He tested you."
"Yes. If I had failed, if he had learned my secret, he would have done worse than he did. He would have lobotomized me and attached me to life-support machines permanently, or hurt the others, or something worse. I would have lost all control over my body entirely."
"So you endured," Luke said.
Aviva nodded. "So I endured. I hated the pain, but even more, I wanted to bring no child into a sphere of the Emperor's influence. None of us did."
Luke smiled, just a little. "You can't be that much of a coward to choose to endure all that you did."
"I did not choose. If I had chosen, I would never have chosen to endure that."
"You could have ended it for yourself the way Wren did."
"No. Master Chu had said that I had a higher purpose than just breeding stock. I tried to see what that purpose might be, but I could not. All I saw was Nori, holding a babe, giving the babe to a woman I didn't know."
Luke glanced at Rupert. "You helped Nori survive long enough to do that. Perhaps that was your purpose."
Aviva fell silent for a moment, thinking. "Perhaps," she said. "Now, I no longer have any purpose left. Except, perhaps, to finish telling my story."
-----
Chapter Twelve--"By the Numbers"
The months, the years passed.
Other women were brought to the camp. Nori grew older. Ashti's and Ember's babies crawled, then walked. Each milestone brought the children closer to the day when the Emperor would judge them.
Their numbers grew. In addition to Gemma, Ashti, Ember, and Harlow, the women now also included Journey, who wonder of wonders, had something of a Healer's gift and who, by drawing on the energies of the other women, was able to reduce Ashti's torment to something more bearable, and Ranata, who could recall every detail of every experience she'd ever had, and Zariah, who could heat objects to where they were warm to the touch and who fantasized about marking the Emperor and then causing him to burst into flames.
One by one, the women became pregnant, Ember's son (whom the Emperor unimaginatively named "First Quartus") was called "Tristan" --the name Ember gave him--within the walls of the dormitory. Ashti's son (whom the Emperor named "Second Quartus") was called "Rab." At first, Harlow hadn't wanted to name her own son, but she refused to call him "Third Quartus," so she finally began to call him "Amos." Ashti's son Rab soon had a brother whom she called "Derek" ("Fourth Quartus"). Journey delivered "Jamus" (or "Fifth Quartus"). Ranata became pregnant with "Sixth Quartus" but hadn't yet chosen a private name for him.
Meanwhile, the Emperor began to pay more and more attention to Nori, who, having witnessed the marking of most of the other women, and having learned why Ashti could no longer close her mouth or speak, and having seen Ashti's back, became more and more terrified of the Emperor.
Journey and Ranata eventually found comfort in each other's arms, and became lovers. Ashti, who could not speak, nevertheless told the group sub-vocally in their telepathic circles, that there was no shame in seeking love any way they could find it, even physical love with another woman, but Ashti was worried what the Emperor would do if the lovers were found out, so she advised Journey and Ranata to be as discreet as they could.
Gemma envied them at one level, but found the idea of such intimate touch, even when done with affection, to be repulsive. Ashti told the group that there was no shame in that, either, and that each woman would decide for herself what she found acceptable, and while they had no choice when it came to the Emperor, among themselves they would respect absolutely one another's wishes.
Each telepathic session ended similarly. Ashti told each woman that she loved them, and each woman affirmed their love for Ashti and each other.
The months, the years passed.
Other women were brought to the camp. Nori grew older. Ashti's and Ember's babies crawled, then walked. Each milestone brought the children closer to the day when the Emperor would judge them.
Their numbers grew. In addition to Gemma, Ashti, Ember, and Harlow, the women now also included Journey, who wonder of wonders, had something of a Healer's gift and who, by drawing on the energies of the other women, was able to reduce Ashti's torment to something more bearable, and Ranata, who could recall every detail of every experience she'd ever had, and Zariah, who could heat objects to where they were warm to the touch and who fantasized about marking the Emperor and then causing him to burst into flames.
One by one, the women became pregnant, Ember's son (whom the Emperor unimaginatively named "First Quartus") was called "Tristan" --the name Ember gave him--within the walls of the dormitory. Ashti's son (whom the Emperor named "Second Quartus") was called "Rab." At first, Harlow hadn't wanted to name her own son, but she refused to call him "Third Quartus," so she finally began to call him "Amos." Ashti's son Rab soon had a brother whom she called "Derek" ("Fourth Quartus"). Journey delivered "Jamus" (or "Fifth Quartus"). Ranata became pregnant with "Sixth Quartus" but hadn't yet chosen a private name for him.
Meanwhile, the Emperor began to pay more and more attention to Nori, who, having witnessed the marking of most of the other women, and having learned why Ashti could no longer close her mouth or speak, and having seen Ashti's back, became more and more terrified of the Emperor.
Journey and Ranata eventually found comfort in each other's arms, and became lovers. Ashti, who could not speak, nevertheless told the group sub-vocally in their telepathic circles, that there was no shame in seeking love any way they could find it, even physical love with another woman, but Ashti was worried what the Emperor would do if the lovers were found out, so she advised Journey and Ranata to be as discreet as they could.
Gemma envied them at one level, but found the idea of such intimate touch, even when done with affection, to be repulsive. Ashti told the group that there was no shame in that, either, and that each woman would decide for herself what she found acceptable, and while they had no choice when it came to the Emperor, among themselves they would respect absolutely one another's wishes.
Each telepathic session ended similarly. Ashti told each woman that she loved them, and each woman affirmed their love for Ashti and each other.
-----
Chapter Thirteen--"A Choice is Given; The Choice is Made"
-----
Chapter Fourteen--"When She Bleeds"
The Emperor was taking his leave from yet another one of his "inspections."
He showed unusual interest in Nori, when he stopped in front of her and studied her. The girl was roughly twelve in standard, now, and starting to develop.
The Emperor studied her appreciatively. Then he reached out and pressed his hand to Nori's cheek.
Nori shuddered.
"My little flower is beginning to bud," the Emperor purred.
"I'm not a flower," Nori said.
"Oh, but you are," the Emperor said. "A flower waiting to bloom, and for a winged bee to taste your nectar." He lifted his eyes to the Commandant. "Notify me when she bleeds," he said. "The instant she bleeds."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The Emperor turned, and without stopping to inspect the other women, boarded his shuttle.
.
.
.
.
The Emperor was taking his leave from yet another one of his "inspections."
He showed unusual interest in Nori, when he stopped in front of her and studied her. The girl was roughly twelve in standard, now, and starting to develop.
The Emperor studied her appreciatively. Then he reached out and pressed his hand to Nori's cheek.
Nori shuddered.
"My little flower is beginning to bud," the Emperor purred.
"I'm not a flower," Nori said.
"Oh, but you are," the Emperor said. "A flower waiting to bloom, and for a winged bee to taste your nectar." He lifted his eyes to the Commandant. "Notify me when she bleeds," he said. "The instant she bleeds."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The Emperor turned, and without stopping to inspect the other women, boarded his shuttle.
.
.
.
.
Chapter Fourteen --"The Anatomy Lesson"
Gemma was no longer the youngest among the Breeders. Melany hadn't yet even experienced her first menstruation.
For the time being, Melany was not included in their telepathic session.
Sweet Deities, Ranata sent. She's not yet thirteen if she's a day!
Ashti clapped once, to signal she had something to say. And woefully ignorant. She doesn't even know what 'rape' means, was fascinated by Zariah's and Journey's swollen bellies,
The less she knows, the more terrifying it will be, Ashti sent.
As if the experience wasn't terrifying enough anyway! Ranata added. I hate the memory of it!
We must teach her, Harlow sent.
Ashti nodded. Nori is also becoming curious about how the Emperor plans to become her 'mate.' She knows she has a 'sacred place,' but does not fully understand. It will not be many years now before he claims her. I think perhaps an anatomy lesson is in order.
Yes, but how do we teach them? We can draw pictures, but they will mean very little. Gemma said.
It will have to be a demonstration, Ashti said. A volunteer for a model, and a teacher to explain. Gemma, you are well-versed in anatomy. Perhaps you could be the teacher? Explain the parts to the youngsters?
I can explain, Gemma answered, But I do not want to touch.
A moment! sent Journey. May Ranata and I have a moment alone?
Ember and Harlow broke the telepathic link, and Journey and Ranata whispered with each other for a moment. Then Journey nodded that the link should be re-established. Journey told them, I will volunteer as model, and Ranata may touch me as needed for the demonstration, if Gemma will explain the anatomy.
But the anatomy is not all that should be explained, Ranata added.
Ashti nodded. Good. It is decided, then. I love you all.
.
.
.
.
Journey lay on her bed, covered in a sheet.
Gemma was no longer the youngest among the Breeders. Melany hadn't yet even experienced her first menstruation.
For the time being, Melany was not included in their telepathic session.
Sweet Deities, Ranata sent. She's not yet thirteen if she's a day!
Ashti clapped once, to signal she had something to say. And woefully ignorant. She doesn't even know what 'rape' means, was fascinated by Zariah's and Journey's swollen bellies,
The less she knows, the more terrifying it will be, Ashti sent.
As if the experience wasn't terrifying enough anyway! Ranata added. I hate the memory of it!
We must teach her, Harlow sent.
Ashti nodded. Nori is also becoming curious about how the Emperor plans to become her 'mate.' She knows she has a 'sacred place,' but does not fully understand. It will not be many years now before he claims her. I think perhaps an anatomy lesson is in order.
Yes, but how do we teach them? We can draw pictures, but they will mean very little. Gemma said.
It will have to be a demonstration, Ashti said. A volunteer for a model, and a teacher to explain. Gemma, you are well-versed in anatomy. Perhaps you could be the teacher? Explain the parts to the youngsters?
I can explain, Gemma answered, But I do not want to touch.
A moment! sent Journey. May Ranata and I have a moment alone?
Ember and Harlow broke the telepathic link, and Journey and Ranata whispered with each other for a moment. Then Journey nodded that the link should be re-established. Journey told them, I will volunteer as model, and Ranata may touch me as needed for the demonstration, if Gemma will explain the anatomy.
But the anatomy is not all that should be explained, Ranata added.
Ashti nodded. Good. It is decided, then. I love you all.
.
.
.
.
Journey lay on her bed, covered in a sheet.
-----
Chapter Fourteen--"A Choice Has Been Given"
-----
Chapter Fifteen--"When She Bleeds"
-----
Chapter Sixteen--"The Vision"
The women were lined up. Something was off. Their cycles weren’t ready. Nori hadn't yet had a cycle. Gemma held Nori’s hand on one side, and Ember on the other. The child was trembling, and a stormtrooper had his hands around her waist, ready to hold her up, but at the moment, she was standing on her own. The Commandant had passed word to Ashti, who passed word to the others, that it was “too soon” for Nori, that her cycle hadn’t yet been properly prepared for the Emperor, but he was coming anyway.
He stopped in front of Nori, and loomed over her. His face twisted into a smile as he took her chin. “Not this visit, my sweet,” he said. “But soon.” He kissed her forehead, and Nori’s knees buckled, and the stormtrooper caught her. The Emperor chuckled. “Nothing to be afraid of, my dear. Of all the women here, you are the most special. I will be gentle with you, I promise.”
Then he moved to Gemma. It had been more than a year since the Emperor had personally “serviced” Gemma, but he smiled at her anyway. “I’ll see her tonight,” he said. He moved on to Neriah. “And her later.”
.
.
.
.
Gemma wore a path in the expensive carpet of the bedroom, pacing back and forth worriedly. Something was off. Something was up, she was certain. But she didn't know what.
She stopped when the Emperor finally entered, and stood at motionless attention. A servant behind him carried an intricately designed gilded tray bearing a decorative bottle and two fine crystal goblets.
This was new.
The servant set the tray down on the bedside table, then bowed to the Emperor and left.
Palpatine gestured to Gemma. “Sit. Let’s talk.”
Totally new.
Gemma sat on the bed obediently and looked at him.
The Emperor opened the bottle and poured amber liquid from it into the two goblets. Then he reached into a pocket of his robe and took out a small stoppered vial. He opened the vial, poured some of the contents into one of the goblets, and handed it to her. “Here. Drink.” He poured the rest of the vial into the other goblet and picked it up for himself.
Gemma took a small sip. An alcoholic beverage, laced with…something.
“Drink it all.”
“What is it?”
“Wine, mostly. With something added to suppress inhibitions and enhance your Sight. Drink it.”
Gemma obediently downed the contents. He took the goblet from her and replaced it on the tray, sipped some more of his own drink.
“It takes some minutes to take effect,” the Emperor told her. He sipped some more from his own goblet as he peered down at her.
After several minutes, Gemma began to feel dizzy.
“Lie down,” he ordered.
Gemma half-fell, half lay sideways on the bed, landing on the pillows. The Emperor lifted her legs onto the bed.
“Close your eyes.”
Gemma obeyed.
“Now. I want you to think about Vader.”
“I don’t want to do this,” Gemma said, even as she knew she was going to do it.
“It does not matter what you want. You have been useless to me so far. You have become pregnant only with females or malformed males. If not for your Sight, I would have terminated you long ago. This is the only way you may be of some use to me. Now. Think about Vader. Tell me what you see.”
The vision came unbidden. There was a battle. A young man. Vader cut off his hand. Despite the pain, the young man retreated onto a structure, using his remaining good hand to hold himself up. It was high up. Vader holding his hand out to the young man in offering.
I am your father.
No! screamed the young man. That’s not true! That’s impossible!
Search your feelings. You know it to be true! Join me! Together we can defeat the Emperor!
The young man looked down, saw the impossible height, weighing the choice. The choice was given.
Join me! Vader repeated.
The young man decided. He leaned away from his support, let go with his good hand. Fell. The choice was made.
But he didn’t die. Somehow, by pure luck, he survived.
“Vader has a son,” Gemma whispered. “The son yet lives.”
“Yesss,” the Emperor purred. “That was the past. Now tell me the future. Tell me about Vader and his son in the future.”
She saw the young man again. He was surrendering to Imperial troops. Calmly. No sign of the anguish from her last vision. He was taken to Vader, given to Vader. The young man spoke to Vader, urging him to return to the Good side, to become Anakin Skywalker again.
There is no hope for me, Vader replied.
“The son will go to Vader…” Gemma said.
“Yesss…” The Emperor said encouragingly. “And then?”
Gemma saw Vader take the young man to the Emperor. A throne room, somewhere. She wasn’t sure where.
“And then…he will bring the son before you.”
“And then?”
And then…the Emperor taunting the young man. Failure. The young man had been part of the Rebel Alliance, and the Alliance was failing.
Gemma whimpered as she saw Alliance ships being destroyed. “A Great battle. Between ships.”
“Inconsequential. Focus on Vader and his son.”
The son became anguished. Wanted to destroy the Emperor. A lightsaber flew to his hand, ignited. He brought it down towards the Emperor…
…but was blocked. By Vader, whose own lightsaber protected the Emperor from his son’s attack.
A battle, in the Emperor’s presence, between Vader and his son.
“You will goad the son,” Gemma said. “He will attack you, but Vader will defend you. Vader and his son will battle, in your presence. A lightsaber duel.”
“Yes, yes! And then? Which one will win?”
The vision continued. Vader seemed to have the upper hand. The son hid. Vader said something, and the son became angry again. He attacked Vader. The son was more powerful than Vader, and the attack was unrelenting. Vader was barely able to defend himself. And then…the son seemed to win.
“I think…the son will win.
But then a change came over the son. His expression changed. The son allowed Vader to live.
“But Vader will live.”
And then she saw the son in pain. Dying.
And the vision went dim.
“Something else happens. I’m not sure what. The son was suffering. That’s all I can see.”
“Ah. No more than I saw, then.” The Emperor drained the rest of his goblet and set it down on the tray. He gestured to the front of Gemma’s costume, and the buckles began undoing themselves. “Well, then, shall we get down to business?”
“Your Majesty, I am not fertile at the moment.”
“I am aware. Perhaps I should have said, let’s get down to pleasure.”
“Yours,” Gemma said. The uninhibiting agent of the drug had taken effect, and gave her more boldness than she usually exhibited.
“Mine,” he agreed smiling, laying her bare. “And you will see to it. Pleasure me, Seer. Use that enhanced Sight you now possess to fulfill my desires. I am of a mind to forego some of the usual constraints, and if you are of a mind not to suffer the consequences, you will comply.”
.
.
.
.
Later, as the Emperor slept, Gemma felt the drug start to wear off, and she was able to think more clearly. Everything hurt—her mouth, her breasts, her vulva, her anus—where, for the first time, he had violated her—all of which clearly had nothing to do with impregnating her. Doubtless that without the inhibition suppressant, everything would hurt worse than it had before. But she felt some of her willpower returning, and as a test, she gave the sleeping Emperor a rude gesture. Yes!
There was something about the visions. Something…
But with the Emperor so near, she didn’t dare risk looking into it farther.
It would have to wait.
.
.
.
.
In the morning, Gemma was taken to the medical bay per usual, but this time, there were murmurs. There were bites and tears where they had no business being, not if the purpose of the Emperor’s visits to the camp was to produce an heir. For once, Gemma was treated with pain control agents as the repairs to her body were effected, for which she was grateful.
The Emperor took his leave, much as usual, but he offered Gemma a “boon.”
She asked for more pain cream. Not that she would need it for herself, but it was always useful, and his next visit would be for Nori.
When he was gone, Gemma told Ashti she needed some time to herself, and went to her cell to meditate. She knew how to bring the visions without the Emperor’s drug. She’d been Master Chu’s student, after all, although it had been some years since she had deliberately summoned a vision.
It was the same as she had revealed to the Emperor. But when it reached the point where Vader’s son was suffering—she saw now that it was the Emperor who was causing him to suffer. Through his pain, the young man held out a hand in supplication. Father, please--he said. The vision was about to end, but Gemma switched her focus. Not to Vader’s son, nor to Vader, but to the Emperor himself—the only other participant in the vision events. Focus on the Emperor. On what would happen with the Emperor…
Father, please--
Vader looked from his son to the Emperor, who was gleefully killing his son, then back at his son, who was writhing again in agony as the Emperor renewed his attack.
A choice was given. Not the Emperor’s choice, but a choice nonetheless: the Emperor, or his son.
He made the choice.
Despite his exhaustion from the recent battle, Vader picked himself up from the floor. He stumbled over to the Emperor, his Master. He picked up the Emperor using all the strength left in his body, teetered to the near bottomless power core of the structure they were in, and threw the Emperor down into the shaft, killing him.
Gemma nearly pulled out of the trance in surprise.
But the effort cost Vader. The Emperor’s attack on Vader’s son had switched to Vader himself, and in his weakened state from the battle with his son, Vader would not survive for much longer. He would die, with his son at his side, reconciled, and no longer the Emperor’s vassal.
But all that was of less interest to Gemma than the rest—the Emperor would die, at Vader’s hands.
But when? Impossible to say, except that the Emperor didn’t look much different than he did now. Soon, then? How soon?
And when the Emperor died, what would happen to them, the women and children of the camp?
The women were lined up. Something was off. Their cycles weren’t ready. Nori hadn't yet had a cycle. Gemma held Nori’s hand on one side, and Ember on the other. The child was trembling, and a stormtrooper had his hands around her waist, ready to hold her up, but at the moment, she was standing on her own. The Commandant had passed word to Ashti, who passed word to the others, that it was “too soon” for Nori, that her cycle hadn’t yet been properly prepared for the Emperor, but he was coming anyway.
He stopped in front of Nori, and loomed over her. His face twisted into a smile as he took her chin. “Not this visit, my sweet,” he said. “But soon.” He kissed her forehead, and Nori’s knees buckled, and the stormtrooper caught her. The Emperor chuckled. “Nothing to be afraid of, my dear. Of all the women here, you are the most special. I will be gentle with you, I promise.”
Then he moved to Gemma. It had been more than a year since the Emperor had personally “serviced” Gemma, but he smiled at her anyway. “I’ll see her tonight,” he said. He moved on to Neriah. “And her later.”
.
.
.
.
Gemma wore a path in the expensive carpet of the bedroom, pacing back and forth worriedly. Something was off. Something was up, she was certain. But she didn't know what.
She stopped when the Emperor finally entered, and stood at motionless attention. A servant behind him carried an intricately designed gilded tray bearing a decorative bottle and two fine crystal goblets.
This was new.
The servant set the tray down on the bedside table, then bowed to the Emperor and left.
Palpatine gestured to Gemma. “Sit. Let’s talk.”
Totally new.
Gemma sat on the bed obediently and looked at him.
The Emperor opened the bottle and poured amber liquid from it into the two goblets. Then he reached into a pocket of his robe and took out a small stoppered vial. He opened the vial, poured some of the contents into one of the goblets, and handed it to her. “Here. Drink.” He poured the rest of the vial into the other goblet and picked it up for himself.
Gemma took a small sip. An alcoholic beverage, laced with…something.
“Drink it all.”
“What is it?”
“Wine, mostly. With something added to suppress inhibitions and enhance your Sight. Drink it.”
Gemma obediently downed the contents. He took the goblet from her and replaced it on the tray, sipped some more of his own drink.
“It takes some minutes to take effect,” the Emperor told her. He sipped some more from his own goblet as he peered down at her.
After several minutes, Gemma began to feel dizzy.
“Lie down,” he ordered.
Gemma half-fell, half lay sideways on the bed, landing on the pillows. The Emperor lifted her legs onto the bed.
“Close your eyes.”
Gemma obeyed.
“Now. I want you to think about Vader.”
“I don’t want to do this,” Gemma said, even as she knew she was going to do it.
“It does not matter what you want. You have been useless to me so far. You have become pregnant only with females or malformed males. If not for your Sight, I would have terminated you long ago. This is the only way you may be of some use to me. Now. Think about Vader. Tell me what you see.”
The vision came unbidden. There was a battle. A young man. Vader cut off his hand. Despite the pain, the young man retreated onto a structure, using his remaining good hand to hold himself up. It was high up. Vader holding his hand out to the young man in offering.
I am your father.
No! screamed the young man. That’s not true! That’s impossible!
Search your feelings. You know it to be true! Join me! Together we can defeat the Emperor!
The young man looked down, saw the impossible height, weighing the choice. The choice was given.
Join me! Vader repeated.
The young man decided. He leaned away from his support, let go with his good hand. Fell. The choice was made.
But he didn’t die. Somehow, by pure luck, he survived.
“Vader has a son,” Gemma whispered. “The son yet lives.”
“Yesss,” the Emperor purred. “That was the past. Now tell me the future. Tell me about Vader and his son in the future.”
She saw the young man again. He was surrendering to Imperial troops. Calmly. No sign of the anguish from her last vision. He was taken to Vader, given to Vader. The young man spoke to Vader, urging him to return to the Good side, to become Anakin Skywalker again.
There is no hope for me, Vader replied.
“The son will go to Vader…” Gemma said.
“Yesss…” The Emperor said encouragingly. “And then?”
Gemma saw Vader take the young man to the Emperor. A throne room, somewhere. She wasn’t sure where.
“And then…he will bring the son before you.”
“And then?”
And then…the Emperor taunting the young man. Failure. The young man had been part of the Rebel Alliance, and the Alliance was failing.
Gemma whimpered as she saw Alliance ships being destroyed. “A Great battle. Between ships.”
“Inconsequential. Focus on Vader and his son.”
The son became anguished. Wanted to destroy the Emperor. A lightsaber flew to his hand, ignited. He brought it down towards the Emperor…
…but was blocked. By Vader, whose own lightsaber protected the Emperor from his son’s attack.
A battle, in the Emperor’s presence, between Vader and his son.
“You will goad the son,” Gemma said. “He will attack you, but Vader will defend you. Vader and his son will battle, in your presence. A lightsaber duel.”
“Yes, yes! And then? Which one will win?”
The vision continued. Vader seemed to have the upper hand. The son hid. Vader said something, and the son became angry again. He attacked Vader. The son was more powerful than Vader, and the attack was unrelenting. Vader was barely able to defend himself. And then…the son seemed to win.
“I think…the son will win.
But then a change came over the son. His expression changed. The son allowed Vader to live.
“But Vader will live.”
And then she saw the son in pain. Dying.
And the vision went dim.
“Something else happens. I’m not sure what. The son was suffering. That’s all I can see.”
“Ah. No more than I saw, then.” The Emperor drained the rest of his goblet and set it down on the tray. He gestured to the front of Gemma’s costume, and the buckles began undoing themselves. “Well, then, shall we get down to business?”
“Your Majesty, I am not fertile at the moment.”
“I am aware. Perhaps I should have said, let’s get down to pleasure.”
“Yours,” Gemma said. The uninhibiting agent of the drug had taken effect, and gave her more boldness than she usually exhibited.
“Mine,” he agreed smiling, laying her bare. “And you will see to it. Pleasure me, Seer. Use that enhanced Sight you now possess to fulfill my desires. I am of a mind to forego some of the usual constraints, and if you are of a mind not to suffer the consequences, you will comply.”
.
.
.
.
Later, as the Emperor slept, Gemma felt the drug start to wear off, and she was able to think more clearly. Everything hurt—her mouth, her breasts, her vulva, her anus—where, for the first time, he had violated her—all of which clearly had nothing to do with impregnating her. Doubtless that without the inhibition suppressant, everything would hurt worse than it had before. But she felt some of her willpower returning, and as a test, she gave the sleeping Emperor a rude gesture. Yes!
There was something about the visions. Something…
But with the Emperor so near, she didn’t dare risk looking into it farther.
It would have to wait.
.
.
.
.
In the morning, Gemma was taken to the medical bay per usual, but this time, there were murmurs. There were bites and tears where they had no business being, not if the purpose of the Emperor’s visits to the camp was to produce an heir. For once, Gemma was treated with pain control agents as the repairs to her body were effected, for which she was grateful.
The Emperor took his leave, much as usual, but he offered Gemma a “boon.”
She asked for more pain cream. Not that she would need it for herself, but it was always useful, and his next visit would be for Nori.
When he was gone, Gemma told Ashti she needed some time to herself, and went to her cell to meditate. She knew how to bring the visions without the Emperor’s drug. She’d been Master Chu’s student, after all, although it had been some years since she had deliberately summoned a vision.
It was the same as she had revealed to the Emperor. But when it reached the point where Vader’s son was suffering—she saw now that it was the Emperor who was causing him to suffer. Through his pain, the young man held out a hand in supplication. Father, please--he said. The vision was about to end, but Gemma switched her focus. Not to Vader’s son, nor to Vader, but to the Emperor himself—the only other participant in the vision events. Focus on the Emperor. On what would happen with the Emperor…
Father, please--
Vader looked from his son to the Emperor, who was gleefully killing his son, then back at his son, who was writhing again in agony as the Emperor renewed his attack.
A choice was given. Not the Emperor’s choice, but a choice nonetheless: the Emperor, or his son.
He made the choice.
Despite his exhaustion from the recent battle, Vader picked himself up from the floor. He stumbled over to the Emperor, his Master. He picked up the Emperor using all the strength left in his body, teetered to the near bottomless power core of the structure they were in, and threw the Emperor down into the shaft, killing him.
Gemma nearly pulled out of the trance in surprise.
But the effort cost Vader. The Emperor’s attack on Vader’s son had switched to Vader himself, and in his weakened state from the battle with his son, Vader would not survive for much longer. He would die, with his son at his side, reconciled, and no longer the Emperor’s vassal.
But all that was of less interest to Gemma than the rest—the Emperor would die, at Vader’s hands.
But when? Impossible to say, except that the Emperor didn’t look much different than he did now. Soon, then? How soon?
And when the Emperor died, what would happen to them, the women and children of the camp?
-----
Chapter Seventeen--"Com"
Luke sensed that the story was nearing its end, but there was one point he was curious about. “That man—Ashti’s companion. How does he figure into all this?”
Aviva looked at him. “You mean Com?”
“Com, yes.”
Aviva cocked her head to the side and looked at him. “You haven’t figured that out?”
“I have a suspicion,” Luke smiled. “But I’d like to be certain. I think ‘Com’ might not be a name so much as a title.”
“Yes. Commandant.”
Rupert was surprised. “Her attendant is the Commandant?”
“’Attendant’? I suppose you could call him that.”
“Are they lovers?” Rupert asked incredulously.
“Not in the way you might think. She does not offer him her body, nor does he ask. But he is determined—as all of us were—that she will not suffer one further insult. He has sworn fealty to her, dedicated the rest of his life to her service.”
Rupert was still surprised. “Why? To keep him from facing trial for war-crimes?”
“No. He has offered to face whatever fate Ashti would have him face, including that.”
“Atonement,” Luke told Rupert. “Retribution.”
The old woman nodded. “As I told you, Ashti had earned his respect. More than respect. He brought us small favors—extra pain cream, secret food treats, whatever he thought he could get away with. The more she suffered, the more risks he took unto himself. Had he been caught, it would have not gone well for him. When the Emperor was alive, Com followed his orders, as he had to. But when the Emperor was gone, he saved us by refusing to follow the final order, and brought us to a place of relative safety. He spent all the credits he had saved up on medical treatments for her, to give her a way to speak again, and the rest was divided amongst us, at her direction, when Ranata and her children were killed and we separated for safety's sake. Com does for Ashti what she cannot do for herself,”
“And Ashti forgave him?” Rupert asked.
“I think…she saw him as a prisoner, too. Not of the same type as we women were, of course. He did not suffer the same…indignities that we did, naturally. Or the same tortures as Ashti did. Unlike us, his prison has largely been self-imposed. We women are now free, whereas he is a prisoner, still. Of course she forgave him. Some of us had trouble doing the same, but we are all loyal to Ashti and trust her implicitly.”
“He’s still a war-criminal,” Rupert said.
“He is…like me, a coward. Although Ashti has called him a pragmatist. He simply had the…fortune, if you will call it that, of having been born a different gender, and not having a Force-gift.”
“Wow,” said Rupert, sitting back. “If I had suffered what you or Ashti did, I don’t think I could be as forgiving of those who had imprisoned me.”
“Oh, don’t misunderstand me,” Gem said. “I have not forgiven the Emperor. But Ashti helped me to see that Com—and some of the guards—were not there by choice, but by circumstance. They were simply cowards, like me. Although others of the guards were there by choice. And those I have not forgiven.” She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes.
“You’re tired,” Luke observed. “Why don’t you rest, and we’ll pick this up again in the morning.”
Aviva let out an exhausted breath and offered a small smile. “Thank you. Just let me have a short nap, and I’ll see if I can find us something to eat.”
Luke gave his head a small shake. “Don’t worry about that. We’ll take care of it. Rue--?”
Rupert rose, and Maggie immediately followed suit. “I’m on it,” he said, and left the hovel to go in search of food and other necessities.
As Aviva closed her eyes and immediately drifted off to sleep, Luke leaned back against the make-shift “couch” and tried to process the remarkable and tragic story he had just heard.
Luke sensed that the story was nearing its end, but there was one point he was curious about. “That man—Ashti’s companion. How does he figure into all this?”
Aviva looked at him. “You mean Com?”
“Com, yes.”
Aviva cocked her head to the side and looked at him. “You haven’t figured that out?”
“I have a suspicion,” Luke smiled. “But I’d like to be certain. I think ‘Com’ might not be a name so much as a title.”
“Yes. Commandant.”
Rupert was surprised. “Her attendant is the Commandant?”
“’Attendant’? I suppose you could call him that.”
“Are they lovers?” Rupert asked incredulously.
“Not in the way you might think. She does not offer him her body, nor does he ask. But he is determined—as all of us were—that she will not suffer one further insult. He has sworn fealty to her, dedicated the rest of his life to her service.”
Rupert was still surprised. “Why? To keep him from facing trial for war-crimes?”
“No. He has offered to face whatever fate Ashti would have him face, including that.”
“Atonement,” Luke told Rupert. “Retribution.”
The old woman nodded. “As I told you, Ashti had earned his respect. More than respect. He brought us small favors—extra pain cream, secret food treats, whatever he thought he could get away with. The more she suffered, the more risks he took unto himself. Had he been caught, it would have not gone well for him. When the Emperor was alive, Com followed his orders, as he had to. But when the Emperor was gone, he saved us by refusing to follow the final order, and brought us to a place of relative safety. He spent all the credits he had saved up on medical treatments for her, to give her a way to speak again, and the rest was divided amongst us, at her direction, when Ranata and her children were killed and we separated for safety's sake. Com does for Ashti what she cannot do for herself,”
“And Ashti forgave him?” Rupert asked.
“I think…she saw him as a prisoner, too. Not of the same type as we women were, of course. He did not suffer the same…indignities that we did, naturally. Or the same tortures as Ashti did. Unlike us, his prison has largely been self-imposed. We women are now free, whereas he is a prisoner, still. Of course she forgave him. Some of us had trouble doing the same, but we are all loyal to Ashti and trust her implicitly.”
“He’s still a war-criminal,” Rupert said.
“He is…like me, a coward. Although Ashti has called him a pragmatist. He simply had the…fortune, if you will call it that, of having been born a different gender, and not having a Force-gift.”
“Wow,” said Rupert, sitting back. “If I had suffered what you or Ashti did, I don’t think I could be as forgiving of those who had imprisoned me.”
“Oh, don’t misunderstand me,” Gem said. “I have not forgiven the Emperor. But Ashti helped me to see that Com—and some of the guards—were not there by choice, but by circumstance. They were simply cowards, like me. Although others of the guards were there by choice. And those I have not forgiven.” She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes.
“You’re tired,” Luke observed. “Why don’t you rest, and we’ll pick this up again in the morning.”
Aviva let out an exhausted breath and offered a small smile. “Thank you. Just let me have a short nap, and I’ll see if I can find us something to eat.”
Luke gave his head a small shake. “Don’t worry about that. We’ll take care of it. Rue--?”
Rupert rose, and Maggie immediately followed suit. “I’m on it,” he said, and left the hovel to go in search of food and other necessities.
As Aviva closed her eyes and immediately drifted off to sleep, Luke leaned back against the make-shift “couch” and tried to process the remarkable and tragic story he had just heard.
-----
Chapter Eighteen--"The Wedding Feast"
The inspection line-up was hardly necessary. The Emperor was there to see only one female: Nori. And Nori was a wreck, barely able to stand, gripping Gemma’s hand like it was a life-line, trembling through her entire frame.
Palpatine descended his gangplank nearly as soon as the shuttle landed. He strode straight up to Nori, and grasped her chin.
Nori whimpered.
“My dear child,” the Emperor purred, “You need have no fear. This is a special time for you. You are a woman now. You are entering a new era. Your Emperor is about to become your mate.”
Nori let out a sob, and her knees collapsed under her. She would have fallen if not for strong grip on her hand, and the Commandant, who grabbed her waist and held her up.
Ignoring her, the Emperor clapped his hands together and addressed the assemblage. “This is a special occasion. The child is unique. This will be a true union, and a cause for celebration. Tonight we will feast, and tomorrow--tomorrow we shall have a wedding!”
As the Emperor strode off to his private quarters, followed by Vader, the Commandant left Nori to fall in behind, and the young Creature-Empath collapsed to the ground.
.
.
.
.
Additional tables had been set out in the guards’ mess, and a raised platform was added to hold the “table of honor.”
Nori had been washed, gowned in a fancy dress, her hair dressed, and held aloft by Vader, carried to the mess hall, and dumped unceremoniously into her chair. Vader, who would not be eating, stood behind the chair of the place next to her, the Emperor's place. The women were brought in by the stormtroopers, who for once were not wearing their armor, in a column of woman/stormtrooper pairings, and were taken to places where they would be seated, each one, next to her stormtrooper “escort.” It was a neat way of ensuring compliance among the women, making sure none of them would be seated next to each other and that there were guards in between.
Ashti, as the leader among the women, was escorted to the head table by the Commandant, who took his place behind the seat next to hers. Everyone remained standing. Not a word was spoken. The only sounds came from Nori, whose uncontrollable sobbing was ignored by the men and evoked pitying looks from the women.
The last to enter was the Emperor, who strode confidently to his place and addressed the crowd. “Welcome, all!” he boomed, spreading his arms. “My bride—” he glanced at Nori, who sobbed.
He frowned, watching Nori’s sobs shudder through her, and didn’t speak for a moment. The only sounds in the crowded room came from Nori, and from Vader’s breathing apparatus. Then he turned back to face the rest of the room. “My bride welcomes you all to her wedding feast.”
The inference was clear. Nori would be “married” to him, but he, of course, wouldn’t necessarily be married to her.
Again, for another long moment, the only sounds were Nori’s sobbing, and Vader’s mechanical breathing.
“Please, be seated,” The Emperor said, in a commanding tone.
Instantly, the sounds of chairs scraping against the floor filled the room as stormtroopers pulled out the women’s chairs to seat them, and then took their own places, momentarily drowning out the sounds of Nori’s sobbing and Vader’s breathing.
Then the scraping ended, and all that was left was the sobbing and the mechanized breathing once again.
The Emperor clapped his hands loudly, twice. “Let’s eat!” he said.
Immediately, servants and 'droids began to enter the dining room, bearing trays laden with plates of food. Rich foods such as Gemma had not seen since she was captured. The guards fell to eating with gusto. The women remained seated with their hands folded in their laps.
"I said, 'Let's eat!'" the Emperor ordered.
On the stage, Ashti raised a roll to her lips, then lowered it again, without having taken a bite.
The women on the floor below watched her, and copied her motions.
Ashti moved her hand with the uneaten roll below the level of the table When she brought her hand up again, it was empty. She was saving the bread for the children to eat later.
On the floor below, Gemma and every other woman copied what she had done.
Ashti reached for the dish of nuts that had been set in front of her. Nuts would keep. She took a handful, pretended to nibble on them, and dropped her hand back to her lap. The nuts disappeared.
Down on the floor, all of the women quietly emptied the nut dishes into their napkins.
Next to Ashti, the Commandant took his own roll and set it on Ashti's plate, then helped himself to a generous portion of her meat, Some of the guards below noticed how he was enjoying an extra portion, and made similar trades with the women next to them.
Ashti's second roll disappeared from her plate to join the first.
Down below, all the women who had been recipients of food trades did likewise.
There was a general murmur of conversation among the men, but none of the women spoke.
On the stage, Nori's plate remained untouched, as the girl sobbed uncontrollably.
"Stop that nonsense!" The Emperor hissed at her. But Nori couldn't stop.
The Emperor twisted his scowl into a smile and addressed the assemblage. "Tears of joy!" he exclaimed. My bride can hardly contain herself!"
Down the table, the Commandant began clapping. The applause was taken up by the men seated below.
The Emperor frowned at Ashti. "You're not clapping!" he said.
Ashti raised her hands as if to join in, palms facing each other and moved them towards each other and away again, but the hands never touched.
Below, every woman made a similar pretense at clapping.
The Commandant began clapping harder and faster. The noise volume rose as the men below copied him.
“You see,” the Emperor said to Nori over the noise, “They are clapping. They are eating. They understand that this is a time of celebration!”
The Commandant stopped clapping. He pretended to make conversation with Ashti. The clapping noise died away. General chatter resumed among the guards, though not the women.
Nori looked at the women uncomprehendingly. Even though none of the women were talking, she saw that some of the women’s plates were partly empty, and she didn’t understand. She looked down her own table at Ashti, seated farther away. Ashti met her eyes, raised a forkful of food to her lips, touched her lips with the food, and then lowered the fork back to her plate, with the food uneaten Her mouth moved as if chewing.. Then Nori understood. The women were only pretending to eat.
For the space of a heartbeat, a sob caught in her throat.
But only for a heartbeat.
The sobbing resumed.
Nori’s plate remained untouched.
When as much of the eating as would be done was done, when the Emperor’s plate was empty, he rose.
All of the men rose with him. All of the women remained sitting.
He turned to Vader. “Have my attendants prepare her for the wedding bed.” Then he strode out of the room.
When Vader lifted the child from her seat, she screamed. Ashti immediately stood up and left her seat to stand in front of Vader and Nori, blocking Vader’s way.
“We love you, Nori!” Ashti told her, “We love you!” She kept repeating the words “We love you,” until Vader tucked the child under one arm and used his other arm to knock her aside.
Throughout the room, the women cried out, “We love you, Nori! We love you!”
The inspection line-up was hardly necessary. The Emperor was there to see only one female: Nori. And Nori was a wreck, barely able to stand, gripping Gemma’s hand like it was a life-line, trembling through her entire frame.
Palpatine descended his gangplank nearly as soon as the shuttle landed. He strode straight up to Nori, and grasped her chin.
Nori whimpered.
“My dear child,” the Emperor purred, “You need have no fear. This is a special time for you. You are a woman now. You are entering a new era. Your Emperor is about to become your mate.”
Nori let out a sob, and her knees collapsed under her. She would have fallen if not for strong grip on her hand, and the Commandant, who grabbed her waist and held her up.
Ignoring her, the Emperor clapped his hands together and addressed the assemblage. “This is a special occasion. The child is unique. This will be a true union, and a cause for celebration. Tonight we will feast, and tomorrow--tomorrow we shall have a wedding!”
As the Emperor strode off to his private quarters, followed by Vader, the Commandant left Nori to fall in behind, and the young Creature-Empath collapsed to the ground.
.
.
.
.
Additional tables had been set out in the guards’ mess, and a raised platform was added to hold the “table of honor.”
Nori had been washed, gowned in a fancy dress, her hair dressed, and held aloft by Vader, carried to the mess hall, and dumped unceremoniously into her chair. Vader, who would not be eating, stood behind the chair of the place next to her, the Emperor's place. The women were brought in by the stormtroopers, who for once were not wearing their armor, in a column of woman/stormtrooper pairings, and were taken to places where they would be seated, each one, next to her stormtrooper “escort.” It was a neat way of ensuring compliance among the women, making sure none of them would be seated next to each other and that there were guards in between.
Ashti, as the leader among the women, was escorted to the head table by the Commandant, who took his place behind the seat next to hers. Everyone remained standing. Not a word was spoken. The only sounds came from Nori, whose uncontrollable sobbing was ignored by the men and evoked pitying looks from the women.
The last to enter was the Emperor, who strode confidently to his place and addressed the crowd. “Welcome, all!” he boomed, spreading his arms. “My bride—” he glanced at Nori, who sobbed.
He frowned, watching Nori’s sobs shudder through her, and didn’t speak for a moment. The only sounds in the crowded room came from Nori, and from Vader’s breathing apparatus. Then he turned back to face the rest of the room. “My bride welcomes you all to her wedding feast.”
The inference was clear. Nori would be “married” to him, but he, of course, wouldn’t necessarily be married to her.
Again, for another long moment, the only sounds were Nori’s sobbing, and Vader’s mechanical breathing.
“Please, be seated,” The Emperor said, in a commanding tone.
Instantly, the sounds of chairs scraping against the floor filled the room as stormtroopers pulled out the women’s chairs to seat them, and then took their own places, momentarily drowning out the sounds of Nori’s sobbing and Vader’s breathing.
Then the scraping ended, and all that was left was the sobbing and the mechanized breathing once again.
The Emperor clapped his hands loudly, twice. “Let’s eat!” he said.
Immediately, servants and 'droids began to enter the dining room, bearing trays laden with plates of food. Rich foods such as Gemma had not seen since she was captured. The guards fell to eating with gusto. The women remained seated with their hands folded in their laps.
"I said, 'Let's eat!'" the Emperor ordered.
On the stage, Ashti raised a roll to her lips, then lowered it again, without having taken a bite.
The women on the floor below watched her, and copied her motions.
Ashti moved her hand with the uneaten roll below the level of the table When she brought her hand up again, it was empty. She was saving the bread for the children to eat later.
On the floor below, Gemma and every other woman copied what she had done.
Ashti reached for the dish of nuts that had been set in front of her. Nuts would keep. She took a handful, pretended to nibble on them, and dropped her hand back to her lap. The nuts disappeared.
Down on the floor, all of the women quietly emptied the nut dishes into their napkins.
Next to Ashti, the Commandant took his own roll and set it on Ashti's plate, then helped himself to a generous portion of her meat, Some of the guards below noticed how he was enjoying an extra portion, and made similar trades with the women next to them.
Ashti's second roll disappeared from her plate to join the first.
Down below, all the women who had been recipients of food trades did likewise.
There was a general murmur of conversation among the men, but none of the women spoke.
On the stage, Nori's plate remained untouched, as the girl sobbed uncontrollably.
"Stop that nonsense!" The Emperor hissed at her. But Nori couldn't stop.
The Emperor twisted his scowl into a smile and addressed the assemblage. "Tears of joy!" he exclaimed. My bride can hardly contain herself!"
Down the table, the Commandant began clapping. The applause was taken up by the men seated below.
The Emperor frowned at Ashti. "You're not clapping!" he said.
Ashti raised her hands as if to join in, palms facing each other and moved them towards each other and away again, but the hands never touched.
Below, every woman made a similar pretense at clapping.
The Commandant began clapping harder and faster. The noise volume rose as the men below copied him.
“You see,” the Emperor said to Nori over the noise, “They are clapping. They are eating. They understand that this is a time of celebration!”
The Commandant stopped clapping. He pretended to make conversation with Ashti. The clapping noise died away. General chatter resumed among the guards, though not the women.
Nori looked at the women uncomprehendingly. Even though none of the women were talking, she saw that some of the women’s plates were partly empty, and she didn’t understand. She looked down her own table at Ashti, seated farther away. Ashti met her eyes, raised a forkful of food to her lips, touched her lips with the food, and then lowered the fork back to her plate, with the food uneaten Her mouth moved as if chewing.. Then Nori understood. The women were only pretending to eat.
For the space of a heartbeat, a sob caught in her throat.
But only for a heartbeat.
The sobbing resumed.
Nori’s plate remained untouched.
When as much of the eating as would be done was done, when the Emperor’s plate was empty, he rose.
All of the men rose with him. All of the women remained sitting.
He turned to Vader. “Have my attendants prepare her for the wedding bed.” Then he strode out of the room.
When Vader lifted the child from her seat, she screamed. Ashti immediately stood up and left her seat to stand in front of Vader and Nori, blocking Vader’s way.
“We love you, Nori!” Ashti told her, “We love you!” She kept repeating the words “We love you,” until Vader tucked the child under one arm and used his other arm to knock her aside.
Throughout the room, the women cried out, “We love you, Nori! We love you!”
-----
Chapter Nineteen--"Breakfast"
The old woman's voice was hoarse from talking. With a trembling hand, she lifted her can-cup to her lips and sipped the last swallow. She reached for her little battered kettle to pour herself some more water, but it was empty. She started to struggle to her feet, but Luke held up a staying hand. “We’ll get it,” he said. He glanced at Rupert, who immediately leapt to his feet with the teapot in hand.
“Make sure it is well boiled,” the old woman warned him in a raspy voice, “or we will all get sick.”
Rupert nodded and ducked out of the make-shift shelter. His mortu remained behind with her head across the old woman’s lap. She stroked the animal’s head, seeming to draw pleasure from the simple touch.
Luke took out three simple meals from the sack Rupert had brought earlier, and set them out.
“Aviva, let me ask you something,” Luke said at length. “From your story, you can’t be much older than me, no more than a few years, but you look decades older. No offense.”
The old woman smiled, but there was little warmth or humor in it. "I should point out that it's rude to tell a woman she looks older than her years. But in this case, it's an effect of the fertility drugs. Such drugs are meant normally for shorter periods of use, and at lower doses. But the Emperor was impatient, and didn’t much care about the side effects of the treatments. It was results he wanted, the boy children. He cared nothing for the effects the treatments had on us. I was in my twenties when the Emperor died, and menopause was not far off. My eggs had been nearly used up, you see.”
“And still you bore no children?”
“Most of my pregnancies were female. A few were male, but had genetic anomalies the Emperor did not want. All were terminated at an early phase in the pregnancy. For which I am glad. I don’t think I could have stood having a male child, and then having that child’s life terminated at such an early age—long enough that I could have come to love him and then lose him—as most of the other women experienced. Every child born was loved by every woman. But the pain at the loss was most great for the woman who bore him.”
“One boy wasn’t terminated.”
“Yes. From Camp Prime. He was the only one in all the camps to pass the Emperor’s test. We heard about the surviving child through one of the guards.”
“What was the test?”
“To…choose any woman in the camp to be terminated, and then kill her. Or be killed himself.”
Luke sucked in a breath. He’d assumed that the Emperor had been looking for a particular Force-talent, when in fact, the Emperor had been looking for another trait altogether—the capacity for cruelty—or rather, the capacity to overcome love.
“Almost every child knew what to expect,” Aviva went on. “They’d seen it happen to the boys before them. Yet every child from our camp—and from every other camp, from what I heard, except the one instance—chose to let himself be terminated rather than lose one of his mothers. For that’s what we all were to the children during their short times. Each one of us was a mother to every child, and every child was mourned. Every product of the Emperor’s rape or fertility treatment, every product of the pregnancies forced upon us, was loved and mourned.”
The woman’s eyes filled with tears that spilled out, and Luke had to wipe at his own eyes. He hadn’t known any of those children, but he felt a small share of the woman’s pain. “And every child is mourned, still,” he said quietly.
The old woman sniffed and looked up, and saw that he understood.
“We could…go back to the camp,” Luke said, “find their graves, and put up memorials. Set their names in stone, at least.”
“Part of me...might…like that. Except that…I don’t think I could bring myself to return to that awful place. And…I don’t think I will live long enough to do so. And…I haven't quite finished my story. Once you learn what I did, I doubt you would want to do me any favors.”
"You said you would draw me a map."
"Yes. That much I will do. You might ask Ashti and the others, if they're willing to fill it in with any corrections. They might at least make a better scale than I could. Or perhaps some of the mothers might have more courage than I and want to see their sons' graves honored."
Rupert returned just then, with the kettle. He attached a filter he had purchased to the spout, arranged tea bags in the three cups he had bought earlier, and poured hot water into the cups.
Aviva watched all that in surprise.
"We thought you might enjoy some actual tea," Rupert explained. The filter will make the water taste better, at any. rate."
The tea hadn't had time to finish seeping properly, but Aviva took an experimental sip. "Oh," she said. "It's...quite wonderful. Would you mind if I gave this device to the water-tender?""
Rupert reached into his pocket and pulled out another filter. "I already gave him one, but there might still be contaminants in your kettle. You can keep that for a spare or give it to someone else."
"We noticed he provided a sort of community gathering place." Luke added. "It was in our power to help your friends in a small way, so we did."
"Why this, then?" Aviva indicated the device Rupert had attached to her battered kettle.
"There might still be contaminants in your kettle from previous fillings. We'll get you a new kettle. if you want, then you won't need it."
"I prefer to keep that one."
"As you wish."
Maggie whined, needing to relieve herself. “I think she needs to go out,” Rupert said. He made a quick motion with his hand, and the mortu rose to her feet. Aviva placed a quick kiss on the animal’s head. The mortu wagged her tail in response, then trotted to the door, where Rupert followed her out.
Aviva struggled to her feet, tottered to her things, and returned with an old battered pot, the only cooking vessel besides the tea kettle that Luke had seen in the make-shift dwelling. She set this on the floor, poured the rest of the water from the kettle into the pot to cool. "For Maggie," she explained.
Luke reached for the kettle immediately after she had set it down. “I’ll get some more,” he said, and left the tent.
The-water tender refused Luke's coin, saying that the filter Rupert had given him was more than enough recompense, and Vivi would have free water for life, as far as he was concerned.. For a few minutes, at least, Luke had nothing to do for a short while but wait for the water to boil. The filter made the boiling unnecessary, but tea required hot water. He set about studying his surroundings. The usual trappings of abject poverty. Maybe Leia could manage something to help these conditions.
A child ran up to the water-tender, holding something in his hand. “Look what I made for Vivi!” he said.
The man, probably the boy's father, knelt down to examine the object. “Very nice,” he said. “She’ll love it.”
The source of the odd bits of decoration around Aviva’s tent was now clear. “May I see?” Luke asked.
The boy nodded and handed the object to him. It consisted of bits of wire, tiny scraps of metal, and other detritus, twisted and woven together into a crude shape resembling one of the birds Luke had seen in the small park area. The painstaking work of a young, budding, untrained artist who had only crude materials with which to craft. He handed it back. “Yes, she’ll love it.”
“I’m going to take it to her now!” the boy declared.
But the man—his father?—held a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Wait a moment. Allow her guests to return first.”
The fire-and-water tender used a rod to swing the grate holding the kettle out of the flames. Using the rag that served as a pot-holder, Luke took it and went back to the tent.
Rupert returned with Maggie, and a rap sounded on the make-shift door. “Vivi?” a child’s voice cried. “Vivi, are you in? May I come in?”
“I think you’re about to receive a gift,” Luke said, smiling.
“Another one? In addition to all this?” she said, looking around. Her eyes lighted on the simple camp heater in the corner that provided a bit of warmth to her otherwise cold tent.
“One that will put ‘all this’ at a distant second, I think,” Luke said, smiling.
“Vivi?” The child called again. “Vivi, are you here?”
“I’m here. You may enter,” Aviva called
The same boy Luke had seen earlier entered, holding his precious artwork. “I made you a gift!” he exclaimed, holding it out to her.
“Put it on the shelf,” Aviva said, rising from her chair.
The boy did so, and then turned to face her. His eyes saw the breakfast sandwich that had been set out earlier, lingered there for a second, and passed on.
Aviva broke off more than half, then placed it on her saucer and hobbled over to the boy. She set the saucer on the crate nearest to him. The child practically salivated as he watched the process. "For you," Aviva told the boy. "A small thank you for your generous gift."
Luke glanced at Rupert, indicating the scene, to check if he saw that Aviva was always thinking of others ahead of herself. Rupert gave a slight nod. He saw.
As the boy ate, Aviva moved to her shelf and picked up the small sculpture. "Oh, it's beautiful," she said. She continued to admire it while the boy gobbled his half sandwich. She set it on the crate in front of Luke and Rupert to admire. Luke traded his complete sandwich for Aviva's half-sandwich, as Rupert praised the workmanship of the bird-sculpture. Than Rupert traded his complete sandwich for Luke's half-sandwich, which caused the boy to laugh.
"I ate earlier," Rupert said. "This is second-breakfast for me."
Aviva took the sculpture back and returned it to her shelf. "Thank you for the gift, Zac. But I have a story to finish telling to these two gentlemen. Will you come to see me later?"
"Yes, Vivi." the child said, before ducking back out of the tent.
Aviva picked up the sculpture again, and hobbled back to her chair, holding the wire bird like a talisman. "I know you're anxious to hear the rest," she said.
"Eat first," Luke told her. "It can wait a few minutes."
Aviva nodded and took a bite of the food. But she didn't really taste it. Her mouth chewed mechanically as her mind drifted back to the camp.
The old woman's voice was hoarse from talking. With a trembling hand, she lifted her can-cup to her lips and sipped the last swallow. She reached for her little battered kettle to pour herself some more water, but it was empty. She started to struggle to her feet, but Luke held up a staying hand. “We’ll get it,” he said. He glanced at Rupert, who immediately leapt to his feet with the teapot in hand.
“Make sure it is well boiled,” the old woman warned him in a raspy voice, “or we will all get sick.”
Rupert nodded and ducked out of the make-shift shelter. His mortu remained behind with her head across the old woman’s lap. She stroked the animal’s head, seeming to draw pleasure from the simple touch.
Luke took out three simple meals from the sack Rupert had brought earlier, and set them out.
“Aviva, let me ask you something,” Luke said at length. “From your story, you can’t be much older than me, no more than a few years, but you look decades older. No offense.”
The old woman smiled, but there was little warmth or humor in it. "I should point out that it's rude to tell a woman she looks older than her years. But in this case, it's an effect of the fertility drugs. Such drugs are meant normally for shorter periods of use, and at lower doses. But the Emperor was impatient, and didn’t much care about the side effects of the treatments. It was results he wanted, the boy children. He cared nothing for the effects the treatments had on us. I was in my twenties when the Emperor died, and menopause was not far off. My eggs had been nearly used up, you see.”
“And still you bore no children?”
“Most of my pregnancies were female. A few were male, but had genetic anomalies the Emperor did not want. All were terminated at an early phase in the pregnancy. For which I am glad. I don’t think I could have stood having a male child, and then having that child’s life terminated at such an early age—long enough that I could have come to love him and then lose him—as most of the other women experienced. Every child born was loved by every woman. But the pain at the loss was most great for the woman who bore him.”
“One boy wasn’t terminated.”
“Yes. From Camp Prime. He was the only one in all the camps to pass the Emperor’s test. We heard about the surviving child through one of the guards.”
“What was the test?”
“To…choose any woman in the camp to be terminated, and then kill her. Or be killed himself.”
Luke sucked in a breath. He’d assumed that the Emperor had been looking for a particular Force-talent, when in fact, the Emperor had been looking for another trait altogether—the capacity for cruelty—or rather, the capacity to overcome love.
“Almost every child knew what to expect,” Aviva went on. “They’d seen it happen to the boys before them. Yet every child from our camp—and from every other camp, from what I heard, except the one instance—chose to let himself be terminated rather than lose one of his mothers. For that’s what we all were to the children during their short times. Each one of us was a mother to every child, and every child was mourned. Every product of the Emperor’s rape or fertility treatment, every product of the pregnancies forced upon us, was loved and mourned.”
The woman’s eyes filled with tears that spilled out, and Luke had to wipe at his own eyes. He hadn’t known any of those children, but he felt a small share of the woman’s pain. “And every child is mourned, still,” he said quietly.
The old woman sniffed and looked up, and saw that he understood.
“We could…go back to the camp,” Luke said, “find their graves, and put up memorials. Set their names in stone, at least.”
“Part of me...might…like that. Except that…I don’t think I could bring myself to return to that awful place. And…I don’t think I will live long enough to do so. And…I haven't quite finished my story. Once you learn what I did, I doubt you would want to do me any favors.”
"You said you would draw me a map."
"Yes. That much I will do. You might ask Ashti and the others, if they're willing to fill it in with any corrections. They might at least make a better scale than I could. Or perhaps some of the mothers might have more courage than I and want to see their sons' graves honored."
Rupert returned just then, with the kettle. He attached a filter he had purchased to the spout, arranged tea bags in the three cups he had bought earlier, and poured hot water into the cups.
Aviva watched all that in surprise.
"We thought you might enjoy some actual tea," Rupert explained. The filter will make the water taste better, at any. rate."
The tea hadn't had time to finish seeping properly, but Aviva took an experimental sip. "Oh," she said. "It's...quite wonderful. Would you mind if I gave this device to the water-tender?""
Rupert reached into his pocket and pulled out another filter. "I already gave him one, but there might still be contaminants in your kettle. You can keep that for a spare or give it to someone else."
"We noticed he provided a sort of community gathering place." Luke added. "It was in our power to help your friends in a small way, so we did."
"Why this, then?" Aviva indicated the device Rupert had attached to her battered kettle.
"There might still be contaminants in your kettle from previous fillings. We'll get you a new kettle. if you want, then you won't need it."
"I prefer to keep that one."
"As you wish."
Maggie whined, needing to relieve herself. “I think she needs to go out,” Rupert said. He made a quick motion with his hand, and the mortu rose to her feet. Aviva placed a quick kiss on the animal’s head. The mortu wagged her tail in response, then trotted to the door, where Rupert followed her out.
Aviva struggled to her feet, tottered to her things, and returned with an old battered pot, the only cooking vessel besides the tea kettle that Luke had seen in the make-shift dwelling. She set this on the floor, poured the rest of the water from the kettle into the pot to cool. "For Maggie," she explained.
Luke reached for the kettle immediately after she had set it down. “I’ll get some more,” he said, and left the tent.
The-water tender refused Luke's coin, saying that the filter Rupert had given him was more than enough recompense, and Vivi would have free water for life, as far as he was concerned.. For a few minutes, at least, Luke had nothing to do for a short while but wait for the water to boil. The filter made the boiling unnecessary, but tea required hot water. He set about studying his surroundings. The usual trappings of abject poverty. Maybe Leia could manage something to help these conditions.
A child ran up to the water-tender, holding something in his hand. “Look what I made for Vivi!” he said.
The man, probably the boy's father, knelt down to examine the object. “Very nice,” he said. “She’ll love it.”
The source of the odd bits of decoration around Aviva’s tent was now clear. “May I see?” Luke asked.
The boy nodded and handed the object to him. It consisted of bits of wire, tiny scraps of metal, and other detritus, twisted and woven together into a crude shape resembling one of the birds Luke had seen in the small park area. The painstaking work of a young, budding, untrained artist who had only crude materials with which to craft. He handed it back. “Yes, she’ll love it.”
“I’m going to take it to her now!” the boy declared.
But the man—his father?—held a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Wait a moment. Allow her guests to return first.”
The fire-and-water tender used a rod to swing the grate holding the kettle out of the flames. Using the rag that served as a pot-holder, Luke took it and went back to the tent.
Rupert returned with Maggie, and a rap sounded on the make-shift door. “Vivi?” a child’s voice cried. “Vivi, are you in? May I come in?”
“I think you’re about to receive a gift,” Luke said, smiling.
“Another one? In addition to all this?” she said, looking around. Her eyes lighted on the simple camp heater in the corner that provided a bit of warmth to her otherwise cold tent.
“One that will put ‘all this’ at a distant second, I think,” Luke said, smiling.
“Vivi?” The child called again. “Vivi, are you here?”
“I’m here. You may enter,” Aviva called
The same boy Luke had seen earlier entered, holding his precious artwork. “I made you a gift!” he exclaimed, holding it out to her.
“Put it on the shelf,” Aviva said, rising from her chair.
The boy did so, and then turned to face her. His eyes saw the breakfast sandwich that had been set out earlier, lingered there for a second, and passed on.
Aviva broke off more than half, then placed it on her saucer and hobbled over to the boy. She set the saucer on the crate nearest to him. The child practically salivated as he watched the process. "For you," Aviva told the boy. "A small thank you for your generous gift."
Luke glanced at Rupert, indicating the scene, to check if he saw that Aviva was always thinking of others ahead of herself. Rupert gave a slight nod. He saw.
As the boy ate, Aviva moved to her shelf and picked up the small sculpture. "Oh, it's beautiful," she said. She continued to admire it while the boy gobbled his half sandwich. She set it on the crate in front of Luke and Rupert to admire. Luke traded his complete sandwich for Aviva's half-sandwich, as Rupert praised the workmanship of the bird-sculpture. Than Rupert traded his complete sandwich for Luke's half-sandwich, which caused the boy to laugh.
"I ate earlier," Rupert said. "This is second-breakfast for me."
Aviva took the sculpture back and returned it to her shelf. "Thank you for the gift, Zac. But I have a story to finish telling to these two gentlemen. Will you come to see me later?"
"Yes, Vivi." the child said, before ducking back out of the tent.
Aviva picked up the sculpture again, and hobbled back to her chair, holding the wire bird like a talisman. "I know you're anxious to hear the rest," she said.
"Eat first," Luke told her. "It can wait a few minutes."
Aviva nodded and took a bite of the food. But she didn't really taste it. Her mouth chewed mechanically as her mind drifted back to the camp.
-----
Chapter Twenty--"The Mate"
The Emperor approached the bedchamber in eager anticipation. He wasn’t entirely certain what to expect from a Creature-Empath mating, but he knew that Creature Empaths felt…an unusual degree of affection for their mates, felt it strongly, and the Emperor wanted that affection. He’d rewarded those women who gave him some amount of pleasure without his ordering them to, even though he knew they had not done it out of actual, genuine affection. But a Creature-Empath! A Creature-Empath, once mated to him, would willingly become his consort! She would whisper her approval for him in his ear, no matter what! He could hurt her, do delicious, unspeakable things to her, and she would never hurt him back! She might even enjoy the pain he could cause her! And no matter what he did to her, she would always, always love him for it.
But tonight he would have to be careful. Tonight he would be more gentle, ensure that the mating was successful. In the future, he could be as rough with her as he wanted. But tonight, he would be gentle.
The thoughts of his mating with this child Creature-Empath made him hard—so hard that he didn’t need any help from drugs to ensure he could handle his end. He didn’t usually need drugs to ensure his pleasure when he saw a new girl or woman for the first time, especially if she was a virgin. Her fear was usually enough to excite him. But he sometimes used them anyway, just to make sure. And the arousal was usually quite strong in those cases. But with this Creature Empath, this child, he became hard every time just thinking about the mating. And he had been thinking about it a lot since she had first been brought to the camp.
And now that the moment was at hand, he was harder than he had ever been any previous time. He was so eager, he could barely contain his seed. But he would have to, for just a little while longer, to ensure that the mating was successful.
He heard the sobbing as he approached the bedchamber. It didn’t dampen his enthusiasm. To the contrary, it was expected. The child had been sobbing since he arrived. But when he opened the door and saw the child stretched out on the bed, dressed in her ceremonial costume—this one specially made in bridal white, with extra ornamentation—with all four of her limbs bound to the bedframe—apparently the attendants had thought she would be trouble, since the number of bindings indicated the degree of trouble they thought a particular woman would give him—he frowned.
The child saw him, and began screaming hoarsely, struggling against the binders.
The frown deepened. Perhaps if he showed her some small kindness…?
The Emperor gestured, and the binders at her ankles released Nori and disappeared into the bed frame. Immediately, the child began thrashing, kicking, and twisting this way and that as much as the binders holding her wrists would allow her to.
The screaming, and the thrashing, started to give him a headache.
He turned to the Commandant, who had accompanied him. “Calm her down!” he ordered. “Get her to cease this annoying carrying on!”
“Do you want me to use drugs?” the Commandant asked.
“Do whatever it takes! And increase her responsiveness! Give her the maximum possible dose of the aphrodisiacs!”
The Commandant bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“I shall return to my room. Come get me when she is ready.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
.
.
.
.
Gemma was in her room, crying softly, when Ashti came.
“Shhh.” Ashti said, sitting beside her. She wrapped her arms around Gemma, pulled her close, and smoothed her hair with her metal spider fingers.
“Poor Nori!” Gemma sobbed.
“Poor Nori,” Ashti agreed. “But it is not over yet. And there may yet be hope for the child.”
“What do you mean?” Gemma said, wiping her arm across her eyes.
“The Emperor has sent the Commandant to get her to ‘cease her annoying carrying on.’ They have pumped her full of drugs, but of course it has not done any good. So the Commandant has come to me. And now I have come to you.”
“What can I do?” Gemma sniffed.
“You can do what must be done. The child loves you, more than any other. And you love her.”
Gemma nodded. “As do we all.”
“As do we all. But you more than any other. And the child trusts you, more than any other.”
“She is still but a child!”
“And after tonight, no matter what happens, she will no longer be. You can give her a gift, Gemma. Give her the release from becoming Palpatine’s mate. Give her…a mate who loves her.”
Gemma closed her eyes.
“Will you?”
Gemma nodded.
“It must be done in secret,” Ashti warned. “I can get you some time alone with the child. I don’t know how long. And she must be warned to do her best to fool the Emperor. Do whatever he asks of her in the bedchamber. Tell him whatever he wants to hear. Pass whatever test he puts before her.”
“I’ll tell her,” Gemma promised. “But he will still be angry, even if he doesn’t fully understand why. He will want to punish someone.”
Ashti smiled. “It will not be Nori.”
“It will be you,” Gemma said, understanding. Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Ashti.”
“I am prepared.”
“I love you, Ashti.”
“As I love you. And all the others.”
“As we all love you.”
“Come now. It is time for you to go and show the child how much you love her.”
They returned to Ashti’s cell where the Commandant was waiting. “This woman,” Ashti told him, “can calm the child. But you must do as she asks.”
The Commandant nodded, then looked at Gemma. “This way.”
He led the way out of the cell block, through the corridors that Gemma knew so well and hated. But now she needed to release the hate. Find all the love she had inside, and give it to the child.
Nori was still thrashing on the bed, though not as violently as she had before. The drugs had sedated her somewhat, but she was still hoarsely screaming and struggling.
“I will need the binders removed,” Gemma said.
At the sound of Gemma’s voice, the girl stopped thrashing from side to side and calmed somewhat. When one of her binders had been released, she reached her free arm toward Gemma, who took her hand, and kissed it. When the girl’s other binder was released, she sat up and threw her arms around Gemma, crying.
Gemma looked up at the Commandant. “I will need some time alone with her.”
“I will give you as long as I can,” the Commandant said, “but the Emperor will not be kept waiting much longer.”
Gemma nodded, then turned her attention to Nori as the door closed.
“Gem!” Nori sobbed. “I couldn’t do it! I tried and I tried, but I couldn’t do it! I couldn’t mate to myself!”
“I know,” Gemma said quietly. “Keep your voice down.”
“He’ll come back! I know he’s coming back! What can I do?”
“You can trust me,” Gemma said. “There is still hope, but you must trust me. You won’t be mated to the Emperor, but you must make him think you are. Do you understand?”
“How—?”
“I’ll show you in a minute. But if the Emperor finds out, he will kill me. Or punish me some other way. You must keep this secret, Nori. Do you understand?”
Nori nodded. “I’ll keep it secret. I love you, Gemma.”
“And I love you, Nori. Now lie back against the pillows for me.”
Nori lay back. Gemma undid the fastenings of the Emperor’s ceremonial rape-gown, and lay Nori out bare before her.
“Close your eyes, Nori. Try to relax.”
Nori closed her eyes, but she was still tense. Gemma smoothed Nori’s hair, stroked her cheek gently, and leaned over, placing her head near Nori’s. “I love you, Nori,” she whispered. She kissed the child’s forehead, then stroked the girl’s cheek and hair some more, calming her, then whispered in her ear some more. “I love your beautiful face.” She kissed Nori’s eyelids, then whispered, “I love your beautiful eyes.” She kissed Nori’s hair. “I love your beautiful hair.” She kissed the tip of Nori’s nose. “Your beautiful nose.”
“I—“ Nori started.
“Shhh. Just listen. I love everything about your face, Nori.” She rained light, gentle kisses all over Nori’s face. “I love your beautiful ears.” She kissed Nori’s ears softly, one after the other. “I love your beautiful mouth.” She pressed the lightest of kisses against Nori’s lips.
Nori moaned.
The moan was good. This was working.
Gemma moved lower, raining sweet, gentle kisses all over Nori’s neck. “I love your beautiful neck.” A neck that the Emperor would most likely constrict later. Gemma ran her hands down both sides of Nori’s face lightly, down the sides of her neck, across her shoulders, down her arms, speaking quietly as she did so. “I love your beautiful face, your beautiful neck, your beautiful shoulders, your beautiful arms.
Gemma ran both hands down one arm now, all the way down to her hand, lightly, repeated the stroke. “I love this beautiful arm. I love this beautiful hand. I love these beautiful fingers.” She kissed the inside of Nori’s wrist gently. “I love your beautiful wrist.” She kissed the tip of each finger in turn, then the back of the hand, and then the palm. “I love the way this hand holds mine.” She stroked the fingers. Nori started to grasp for the hand, but Gemma used her other hand to hold her off. “No, just listen. I love this beautiful hand, Nori, just as I love the rest of you.”
Gemma set a knee on the bed to climb partway up and reach across to the opposite appendage. “I also love this arm, Nori. This beautiful arm. And this beautiful wrist. And this beautiful hand. And these beautiful fingers. I love you, Nori. I love all of you.”
Gemma trailed her fingers lightly back up the arm to Nori’s shoulders. She took both hands, spread them across the clavicles, then trailed them lightly downward, caressing the girl’s breasts. “I love your breasts, Nori.” She spent some time fondling them. “They are beautiful, just like the rest of you.”
Nori moaned.
Gemma used her thumbs to lightly tease the nipples. “They are beautiful breasts, Nori. Beautiful, like you.” Gemma leaned over her and kissed each breast in turn. “I love your breasts.” She continued her seduction with exquisite tenderness, keeping everything gentle, light, everything opposite of the Emperor's touch. She touched the tip of her tongue to one nipple and licked it lightly for a moment. She replaced the light touch of her tongue with her finger, and moved her mouth to the other breast. “Beautiful breasts, Nori.”
The child’s breath was coming in ragged pants now. Gemma smiled sadly. It was working. Any other place, any other time, she would never do this. But here, now, in the camp, with Palpatine so nearby, she did.
Gemma trailed one hand down to the girl’s stomach, leaving the other hand to continue teasing the girl’s desire at her breast. “I love your beautiful stomach, Nori.” She kissed it. “Your beautiful womb, that makes you as much a woman as the rest of us.”
She moved her hand slowly to the apex of Nora’s pubic hair, then continued across the top of one leg, then gave light strokes down her thigh towards her knee, deliberately moving from the outside of the leg towards the inner thigh.
Nora opened her legs slightly, to allow Gemma better access to the inner thigh.
Gemma trailed a caress from the top of the pubic hair, down past the folds that Palpatine would soon invade, to the inner most region of her thigh, and continued the stroke downward. “I love your beautiful legs, Nori.”
She leaned over and caressed the other leg as she had this one, moving from the outside of the thigh to the inside, finishing the last teasing caress across her most sacred place, as she had with the first leg. “And I love this beautiful leg, Nori. All of it. Even this old scar.” She kissed the scar from the accident with the scissors.
Nori was close now. Gemma carefully pressed against the girl’s thighs to nudge them a little farther apart, but she didn’t force it.
Nori moved one leg slightly. It was enough.
Gemma stroked it ever-so-lightly, moving over the top of the folds. “I love this sacred place, Nori.” She stroked again, a little deeper, looking for the clitoris.
The child was wet, very wet.
“I love this place, Nori,” Gemma said, gently running a finger in circles around the clitoris. Gemma continued circling the clitoris with one hand as she reached up to tease a nipple with the other.
Nori moaned. She was so close.
“I love this sacred place. Nori. I love your beautiful, sacred places.”
Gemma trailed her finger from the clitoris to the opening of the vagina, lightly pressed against it, not quite inserting the finger. “And this place.” Which the Emperor would soon invade. She rubbed the clitoris lightly again for a moment. “I love all of you, Nori.”
When Gemma’s lips touched Nori’s clitoris, the child cried out her ecstasy.
Gemma quickly kissed Nori’s mouth to silence her, meanwhile using her finger to continue to rub until the throbbing pulsing orgasm subsided. She stroked and caressed for long minutes, until Nori recovered some of her senses, even while the child’s breath continued move in and out raggedly through her nose. Once certain she could leave off the girl’s mouth without her crying out, Gemma moved her mouth to cover the girl’s face with kisses.
“Shhh. It’s all right now,” Gemma whispered. “The Emperor will never be able to claim you as his mate. He will come soon, to rape you, as he as raped all of us, but he will never become your mate. He will cause you pain. But you will not be mated to him.”
“I’m mated to you now,” the child said, in wonder.
“Yes, but he must never know. You must make him think that he has made himself your mate. Remember that moment of ecstasy you just felt, and pretend to feel that with him.”
“I will try,” the child said. “But I’m frightened.”
“As we all were. But now a little less frightened, I hope.”
“It’s not…It won’t be so unbearable now.”
Gemma smiled. “Good.” She caressed the girl’s cheek, then started re-fastening the ceremonial rape costume. She talked quietly as she worked. “He will come soon. Make him think he has mated you. Do whatever he wants you to do. Tell him you love him. Tell him that you enjoy his lust for you. Satisfy his unholy appetites. He will test you. You must pass every test. You must never hurt him, never threaten him. You may see opportunities, but they will be traps. Do you understand?”
Nori nodded.
Gemma finished with the costume’s fastenings, started rearranging the sheets, straightening them out. “Do not ever tell him the truth about me or what happened, but otherwise not defy him. You must make him think you want him, that you want his rapes. Otherwise, he will know. Do you understand?”
Nori nodded again.
There was a knock on the door, a signal that their time was almost over.
Gemma kissed Nori quickly, then opened a headboard compartment door for one of the binders. She kissed Nori’s wrist, then enclosed it as gently as she could in the binder. Then she kissed Nori on the mouth again. “Every word I spoke to you before is true. I love all of you, Nori. Even after tonight, I will still love all of you. But I haven’t yet told you the part of you that I love about you the most, Nori. I love your soul. Your beautiful, beautiful soul.”
The door opened, and Gemma stepped quickly back away from the bed.
Nori began breathing in and out fearfully, but it wasn’t at the level of deep-seated terror and panic that she had felt earlier.
The Emperor looked at Gemma.
“The child has calmed, Your Majesty. As you desired,” Gemma said, bowing deeply.
The Emperor turned to the Commandant. “She was alone with the child?”
“For a few minutes only, Your Majesty,” the Commandant said. “Only long enough to speak a few words to the girl.”
The Emperor strode up to the bed. “What did she say to you?” he demanded.
Nori shrunk back, but was limited by the binder. “She said…to do what you wanted, and that…it might not be so terrible to be...mated...to you. That I might even…that I might even enjoy it.”
“Hmmm,” the Emperor said. He reached down to caress Nori’s cheek.
Nori started to flinch, but stopped herself.
Over the Emperor’s shoulder, Gemma mouthed, I love you.
Nori smiled slightly, and at Gemma’s tiny gesture with her head, turned her gaze to the Emperor, still smiling slightly. The Emperor thought it was because of his touch.
Without turning, he said to the Commandant and Gemma, “Leave us.”
.
.
.
.
There was something…different…about the child. Not just her reduced level of terror. She was afraid of his touch, but no more afraid than any of the other women had been. She endured his kisses, but that was all. He stroked, fondled, caressed--gently, for him—but despite the responsiveness drugs she had been given, she wasn’t responding quite the way he had imagined she would.
A suspicion entered his brain, that the woman who had been alone with her had done something in that short time besides talk to the girl. He called the doctors in to examine her. “Intact,” they had pronounced.
Still, something didn’t seem quite…right.
He resumed his despoilment, finished consummating the ravishment, defiling her virginity. She had cried out in pain as the others had, not in ecstasy.
Still, when it was done, the child had slowly, hesitantly, reached out and touched his cheek with her fingers. “You are my mate now,” she had whispered.
But there was none of the…the passion that he had expected afterwards.
It was a good thing he had used the drugs to ensure his erection. This new…indifference…on the part of the child was not at all to his liking.
The Emperor approached the bedchamber in eager anticipation. He wasn’t entirely certain what to expect from a Creature-Empath mating, but he knew that Creature Empaths felt…an unusual degree of affection for their mates, felt it strongly, and the Emperor wanted that affection. He’d rewarded those women who gave him some amount of pleasure without his ordering them to, even though he knew they had not done it out of actual, genuine affection. But a Creature-Empath! A Creature-Empath, once mated to him, would willingly become his consort! She would whisper her approval for him in his ear, no matter what! He could hurt her, do delicious, unspeakable things to her, and she would never hurt him back! She might even enjoy the pain he could cause her! And no matter what he did to her, she would always, always love him for it.
But tonight he would have to be careful. Tonight he would be more gentle, ensure that the mating was successful. In the future, he could be as rough with her as he wanted. But tonight, he would be gentle.
The thoughts of his mating with this child Creature-Empath made him hard—so hard that he didn’t need any help from drugs to ensure he could handle his end. He didn’t usually need drugs to ensure his pleasure when he saw a new girl or woman for the first time, especially if she was a virgin. Her fear was usually enough to excite him. But he sometimes used them anyway, just to make sure. And the arousal was usually quite strong in those cases. But with this Creature Empath, this child, he became hard every time just thinking about the mating. And he had been thinking about it a lot since she had first been brought to the camp.
And now that the moment was at hand, he was harder than he had ever been any previous time. He was so eager, he could barely contain his seed. But he would have to, for just a little while longer, to ensure that the mating was successful.
He heard the sobbing as he approached the bedchamber. It didn’t dampen his enthusiasm. To the contrary, it was expected. The child had been sobbing since he arrived. But when he opened the door and saw the child stretched out on the bed, dressed in her ceremonial costume—this one specially made in bridal white, with extra ornamentation—with all four of her limbs bound to the bedframe—apparently the attendants had thought she would be trouble, since the number of bindings indicated the degree of trouble they thought a particular woman would give him—he frowned.
The child saw him, and began screaming hoarsely, struggling against the binders.
The frown deepened. Perhaps if he showed her some small kindness…?
The Emperor gestured, and the binders at her ankles released Nori and disappeared into the bed frame. Immediately, the child began thrashing, kicking, and twisting this way and that as much as the binders holding her wrists would allow her to.
The screaming, and the thrashing, started to give him a headache.
He turned to the Commandant, who had accompanied him. “Calm her down!” he ordered. “Get her to cease this annoying carrying on!”
“Do you want me to use drugs?” the Commandant asked.
“Do whatever it takes! And increase her responsiveness! Give her the maximum possible dose of the aphrodisiacs!”
The Commandant bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“I shall return to my room. Come get me when she is ready.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
.
.
.
.
Gemma was in her room, crying softly, when Ashti came.
“Shhh.” Ashti said, sitting beside her. She wrapped her arms around Gemma, pulled her close, and smoothed her hair with her metal spider fingers.
“Poor Nori!” Gemma sobbed.
“Poor Nori,” Ashti agreed. “But it is not over yet. And there may yet be hope for the child.”
“What do you mean?” Gemma said, wiping her arm across her eyes.
“The Emperor has sent the Commandant to get her to ‘cease her annoying carrying on.’ They have pumped her full of drugs, but of course it has not done any good. So the Commandant has come to me. And now I have come to you.”
“What can I do?” Gemma sniffed.
“You can do what must be done. The child loves you, more than any other. And you love her.”
Gemma nodded. “As do we all.”
“As do we all. But you more than any other. And the child trusts you, more than any other.”
“She is still but a child!”
“And after tonight, no matter what happens, she will no longer be. You can give her a gift, Gemma. Give her the release from becoming Palpatine’s mate. Give her…a mate who loves her.”
Gemma closed her eyes.
“Will you?”
Gemma nodded.
“It must be done in secret,” Ashti warned. “I can get you some time alone with the child. I don’t know how long. And she must be warned to do her best to fool the Emperor. Do whatever he asks of her in the bedchamber. Tell him whatever he wants to hear. Pass whatever test he puts before her.”
“I’ll tell her,” Gemma promised. “But he will still be angry, even if he doesn’t fully understand why. He will want to punish someone.”
Ashti smiled. “It will not be Nori.”
“It will be you,” Gemma said, understanding. Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Ashti.”
“I am prepared.”
“I love you, Ashti.”
“As I love you. And all the others.”
“As we all love you.”
“Come now. It is time for you to go and show the child how much you love her.”
They returned to Ashti’s cell where the Commandant was waiting. “This woman,” Ashti told him, “can calm the child. But you must do as she asks.”
The Commandant nodded, then looked at Gemma. “This way.”
He led the way out of the cell block, through the corridors that Gemma knew so well and hated. But now she needed to release the hate. Find all the love she had inside, and give it to the child.
Nori was still thrashing on the bed, though not as violently as she had before. The drugs had sedated her somewhat, but she was still hoarsely screaming and struggling.
“I will need the binders removed,” Gemma said.
At the sound of Gemma’s voice, the girl stopped thrashing from side to side and calmed somewhat. When one of her binders had been released, she reached her free arm toward Gemma, who took her hand, and kissed it. When the girl’s other binder was released, she sat up and threw her arms around Gemma, crying.
Gemma looked up at the Commandant. “I will need some time alone with her.”
“I will give you as long as I can,” the Commandant said, “but the Emperor will not be kept waiting much longer.”
Gemma nodded, then turned her attention to Nori as the door closed.
“Gem!” Nori sobbed. “I couldn’t do it! I tried and I tried, but I couldn’t do it! I couldn’t mate to myself!”
“I know,” Gemma said quietly. “Keep your voice down.”
“He’ll come back! I know he’s coming back! What can I do?”
“You can trust me,” Gemma said. “There is still hope, but you must trust me. You won’t be mated to the Emperor, but you must make him think you are. Do you understand?”
“How—?”
“I’ll show you in a minute. But if the Emperor finds out, he will kill me. Or punish me some other way. You must keep this secret, Nori. Do you understand?”
Nori nodded. “I’ll keep it secret. I love you, Gemma.”
“And I love you, Nori. Now lie back against the pillows for me.”
Nori lay back. Gemma undid the fastenings of the Emperor’s ceremonial rape-gown, and lay Nori out bare before her.
“Close your eyes, Nori. Try to relax.”
Nori closed her eyes, but she was still tense. Gemma smoothed Nori’s hair, stroked her cheek gently, and leaned over, placing her head near Nori’s. “I love you, Nori,” she whispered. She kissed the child’s forehead, then stroked the girl’s cheek and hair some more, calming her, then whispered in her ear some more. “I love your beautiful face.” She kissed Nori’s eyelids, then whispered, “I love your beautiful eyes.” She kissed Nori’s hair. “I love your beautiful hair.” She kissed the tip of Nori’s nose. “Your beautiful nose.”
“I—“ Nori started.
“Shhh. Just listen. I love everything about your face, Nori.” She rained light, gentle kisses all over Nori’s face. “I love your beautiful ears.” She kissed Nori’s ears softly, one after the other. “I love your beautiful mouth.” She pressed the lightest of kisses against Nori’s lips.
Nori moaned.
The moan was good. This was working.
Gemma moved lower, raining sweet, gentle kisses all over Nori’s neck. “I love your beautiful neck.” A neck that the Emperor would most likely constrict later. Gemma ran her hands down both sides of Nori’s face lightly, down the sides of her neck, across her shoulders, down her arms, speaking quietly as she did so. “I love your beautiful face, your beautiful neck, your beautiful shoulders, your beautiful arms.
Gemma ran both hands down one arm now, all the way down to her hand, lightly, repeated the stroke. “I love this beautiful arm. I love this beautiful hand. I love these beautiful fingers.” She kissed the inside of Nori’s wrist gently. “I love your beautiful wrist.” She kissed the tip of each finger in turn, then the back of the hand, and then the palm. “I love the way this hand holds mine.” She stroked the fingers. Nori started to grasp for the hand, but Gemma used her other hand to hold her off. “No, just listen. I love this beautiful hand, Nori, just as I love the rest of you.”
Gemma set a knee on the bed to climb partway up and reach across to the opposite appendage. “I also love this arm, Nori. This beautiful arm. And this beautiful wrist. And this beautiful hand. And these beautiful fingers. I love you, Nori. I love all of you.”
Gemma trailed her fingers lightly back up the arm to Nori’s shoulders. She took both hands, spread them across the clavicles, then trailed them lightly downward, caressing the girl’s breasts. “I love your breasts, Nori.” She spent some time fondling them. “They are beautiful, just like the rest of you.”
Nori moaned.
Gemma used her thumbs to lightly tease the nipples. “They are beautiful breasts, Nori. Beautiful, like you.” Gemma leaned over her and kissed each breast in turn. “I love your breasts.” She continued her seduction with exquisite tenderness, keeping everything gentle, light, everything opposite of the Emperor's touch. She touched the tip of her tongue to one nipple and licked it lightly for a moment. She replaced the light touch of her tongue with her finger, and moved her mouth to the other breast. “Beautiful breasts, Nori.”
The child’s breath was coming in ragged pants now. Gemma smiled sadly. It was working. Any other place, any other time, she would never do this. But here, now, in the camp, with Palpatine so nearby, she did.
Gemma trailed one hand down to the girl’s stomach, leaving the other hand to continue teasing the girl’s desire at her breast. “I love your beautiful stomach, Nori.” She kissed it. “Your beautiful womb, that makes you as much a woman as the rest of us.”
She moved her hand slowly to the apex of Nora’s pubic hair, then continued across the top of one leg, then gave light strokes down her thigh towards her knee, deliberately moving from the outside of the leg towards the inner thigh.
Nora opened her legs slightly, to allow Gemma better access to the inner thigh.
Gemma trailed a caress from the top of the pubic hair, down past the folds that Palpatine would soon invade, to the inner most region of her thigh, and continued the stroke downward. “I love your beautiful legs, Nori.”
She leaned over and caressed the other leg as she had this one, moving from the outside of the thigh to the inside, finishing the last teasing caress across her most sacred place, as she had with the first leg. “And I love this beautiful leg, Nori. All of it. Even this old scar.” She kissed the scar from the accident with the scissors.
Nori was close now. Gemma carefully pressed against the girl’s thighs to nudge them a little farther apart, but she didn’t force it.
Nori moved one leg slightly. It was enough.
Gemma stroked it ever-so-lightly, moving over the top of the folds. “I love this sacred place, Nori.” She stroked again, a little deeper, looking for the clitoris.
The child was wet, very wet.
“I love this place, Nori,” Gemma said, gently running a finger in circles around the clitoris. Gemma continued circling the clitoris with one hand as she reached up to tease a nipple with the other.
Nori moaned. She was so close.
“I love this sacred place. Nori. I love your beautiful, sacred places.”
Gemma trailed her finger from the clitoris to the opening of the vagina, lightly pressed against it, not quite inserting the finger. “And this place.” Which the Emperor would soon invade. She rubbed the clitoris lightly again for a moment. “I love all of you, Nori.”
When Gemma’s lips touched Nori’s clitoris, the child cried out her ecstasy.
Gemma quickly kissed Nori’s mouth to silence her, meanwhile using her finger to continue to rub until the throbbing pulsing orgasm subsided. She stroked and caressed for long minutes, until Nori recovered some of her senses, even while the child’s breath continued move in and out raggedly through her nose. Once certain she could leave off the girl’s mouth without her crying out, Gemma moved her mouth to cover the girl’s face with kisses.
“Shhh. It’s all right now,” Gemma whispered. “The Emperor will never be able to claim you as his mate. He will come soon, to rape you, as he as raped all of us, but he will never become your mate. He will cause you pain. But you will not be mated to him.”
“I’m mated to you now,” the child said, in wonder.
“Yes, but he must never know. You must make him think that he has made himself your mate. Remember that moment of ecstasy you just felt, and pretend to feel that with him.”
“I will try,” the child said. “But I’m frightened.”
“As we all were. But now a little less frightened, I hope.”
“It’s not…It won’t be so unbearable now.”
Gemma smiled. “Good.” She caressed the girl’s cheek, then started re-fastening the ceremonial rape costume. She talked quietly as she worked. “He will come soon. Make him think he has mated you. Do whatever he wants you to do. Tell him you love him. Tell him that you enjoy his lust for you. Satisfy his unholy appetites. He will test you. You must pass every test. You must never hurt him, never threaten him. You may see opportunities, but they will be traps. Do you understand?”
Nori nodded.
Gemma finished with the costume’s fastenings, started rearranging the sheets, straightening them out. “Do not ever tell him the truth about me or what happened, but otherwise not defy him. You must make him think you want him, that you want his rapes. Otherwise, he will know. Do you understand?”
Nori nodded again.
There was a knock on the door, a signal that their time was almost over.
Gemma kissed Nori quickly, then opened a headboard compartment door for one of the binders. She kissed Nori’s wrist, then enclosed it as gently as she could in the binder. Then she kissed Nori on the mouth again. “Every word I spoke to you before is true. I love all of you, Nori. Even after tonight, I will still love all of you. But I haven’t yet told you the part of you that I love about you the most, Nori. I love your soul. Your beautiful, beautiful soul.”
The door opened, and Gemma stepped quickly back away from the bed.
Nori began breathing in and out fearfully, but it wasn’t at the level of deep-seated terror and panic that she had felt earlier.
The Emperor looked at Gemma.
“The child has calmed, Your Majesty. As you desired,” Gemma said, bowing deeply.
The Emperor turned to the Commandant. “She was alone with the child?”
“For a few minutes only, Your Majesty,” the Commandant said. “Only long enough to speak a few words to the girl.”
The Emperor strode up to the bed. “What did she say to you?” he demanded.
Nori shrunk back, but was limited by the binder. “She said…to do what you wanted, and that…it might not be so terrible to be...mated...to you. That I might even…that I might even enjoy it.”
“Hmmm,” the Emperor said. He reached down to caress Nori’s cheek.
Nori started to flinch, but stopped herself.
Over the Emperor’s shoulder, Gemma mouthed, I love you.
Nori smiled slightly, and at Gemma’s tiny gesture with her head, turned her gaze to the Emperor, still smiling slightly. The Emperor thought it was because of his touch.
Without turning, he said to the Commandant and Gemma, “Leave us.”
.
.
.
.
There was something…different…about the child. Not just her reduced level of terror. She was afraid of his touch, but no more afraid than any of the other women had been. She endured his kisses, but that was all. He stroked, fondled, caressed--gently, for him—but despite the responsiveness drugs she had been given, she wasn’t responding quite the way he had imagined she would.
A suspicion entered his brain, that the woman who had been alone with her had done something in that short time besides talk to the girl. He called the doctors in to examine her. “Intact,” they had pronounced.
Still, something didn’t seem quite…right.
He resumed his despoilment, finished consummating the ravishment, defiling her virginity. She had cried out in pain as the others had, not in ecstasy.
Still, when it was done, the child had slowly, hesitantly, reached out and touched his cheek with her fingers. “You are my mate now,” she had whispered.
But there was none of the…the passion that he had expected afterwards.
It was a good thing he had used the drugs to ensure his erection. This new…indifference…on the part of the child was not at all to his liking.
-----
Chapter Twenty-One--"A Choice Is Made"
In the morning, we women were assembled as usual preparatory for the Emperor’s departure.
At length, the Emperor emerged from the building complex with Nori on his arm. Her walk was awkward, because of the painful tears his invasion had made to her tender flesh, even though he hadn’t had time for the drugs to achieve a full erection before his mating session. But Nori held his arm as if being escorted to a formal ceremony, even if her walk was made with her knees bent and her legs spaced much wider apart than would have been considered graceful. But she walked. On her own feet.
The Emperor stopped when he reached the line of women, then peeled Nori’s hand off his arm and left her with them. She would not be going with him.
Gemma—and all the women—hoped that the Emperor would not burn his mark into her, hoped that she would be somehow special to him.
But two stormtroopers moved in behind Nori, ready to hold her still. She was such a slight thing, no more would have been needed.
The Emperor walked in front of the rank of women, interspersed with boy children, towards his ship. The Commandant waited for him on one side of the ramp, holding the laser drill. On the other, Vader held a lightsaber across his palms in similar fashion.
The women could do nothing but wait. They watched, holding their collective breath, hoping that the Emperor would simply board his ship and leave. But he didn’t. He turned to face them—and some of the older children cowered behind their mothers. He spread his arms wide, and addressed the camp.
“Among all the women in all the camps,” he pronounced, “There have been none whom I have considered as a potential consort.”
All around me, I could hear whispered murmurings. The Emperor was going to make Nori his consort?
“That has now changed,” he pronounced. “There remains, however, a final test to see if she is worthy.”
The Emperor made a gesture towards Vader with the lightsaber, and moved back the way he had come, to stand before Nori. His attendant followed. “You have pleased me,” he said to Nori, but loud enough for all of us to hear. “But you must now prove your worthiness. Choose. Are you strong enough to be the consort of an Emperor?” He stretched out his hand towards Vader, and the lightsaber flew the short distance to his grip.
The Emperor then held the lightsaber out to Nori. “If so, prove it. Prove it by choosing one of these women, and ending her life!”
As a unit, the guards behind the women, one pair of guards to each woman, seized the women and held them. Children in the arms of some were taken from them, and moved to the side by stormtroopers assigned to the children.
Nori looked at the women with wide, wild eyes. Not a single woman struggled.
She hadn’t known she would be tested like this.
“We love you, Nori!” Ashti’s voice cried out.
Each woman took up the cry. “We love you, Nori! We love you, Nori!” Gemma’s voice was the loudest.
They were forgiving her for whatever choice she made.
The cacophony was starting to give the Emperor a headache. He waved an arm in an arc to get the attention of the stormtroopers, then put a finger to his lips to signal that he wanted silence. The noise quieted as stormtroopers smothered the women’s mouths with their armor-gloved hands. No longer able to produce distinguishable sounds, the women could only squeeze indistinguishable muffled noises past the smothering gloves. But every person present knew what they were trying to say: We love you, Nori!
“Choose!” the Emperor demanded, over the muffled voices. “Forfeit the life of one of the women, or forfeit your own! Will you be my consort, or will you not?”
Nori looked at the lightsaber in her hand, then raised her eyes to the Emperor. “You are my mate,” she said. “You are my mate. My liege. My Emperor. But these women…are my mothers.” She knelt to one knee and held the weapon out to the Emperor in both palms. An offering.
Stunned, the Emperor took the weapon from her.
Then Nori moved to kneel on both knees before him, and used her hands to lift her hair and bare her neck. She bowed her head. And waited. The muffled shouting from the women died away.
The Emperor stared. She was supplicant, but not acquiescing to his desire.
For a long moment, everyone remained frozen in place. Then, from next to the shuttle’s ramp, the Commandant called out, “A choice has been given! The choice has been made!”
There was no response from the stormtroopers.
The Commandant repeated. “A choice has been given! The choice has been made!”
Then some of the helmeted stormtroopers joined in the chant. “A choice has been given! The choice has been made!”
The volume grew as more and more of the stormtroopers joined in. “A choice has been given! The choice has been made!”
Nori waited expectantly. But the Emperor did not cut off her head, as he had ordered Vader to do with the young boys. Vader was not here. If he wanted Nori killed, he would have to do this himself.
Now nearly all of the stormtroopers had joined in. “A choice has been given! The choice has been made!” They repeated, “A choice has been given! The choice has been made!” And again, “A choice has been given! The choice has been made!”
Finally, the Emperor held up a hand, and the chanting ceased. He used the hand to rub his head, now throbbing, and looked down at Nori, kneeling before him. “I see that you are no better than the others!” he said finally. “Stay here, then! Bear my children, as they do! Bear my mark!”
He gestured, and the guards assigned to Nori seized her and raised her from the floor.
The Emperor returned the lightsaber to Vader's outstretched palms, and motioned to the Commandant. The Commandant approached, and Vader with the lightsaber returned to his place. The Commandant stopped before the Emperor, and the Emperor pulled the laser drill to himself using the Force. It had been pre-set already, but the Emperor adjusted the strength upward. He looked into Nori’s terrified child-eyes as the girl struggled in the stormtroopers’ grasp, and his lips twisted into a cruel smile. He waved a hand, and Nori’s elegant skirt raised to reveal her perfect young thigh.
The Commandant now motioned, and additional stormtroopers moved in to hold Nori immobile. The Emperor turned on the laser drill, and slowly, slowly inscribed a long line down the entire side of her thigh to the knee.
Nori’s screams of pain seemed only to make the Emperor’s smile grow wider. He finished inscribing the long stem, then made a slow half-circle at the top of the line, impinging on the delicate flesh of Nori’s inner thigh, and returning to the freshly made burn-line. The large “P” penetrated through all of the layers of skin, and carved into the muscle below. The stench of seared flesh permeated the air, punctuating Nori’s screams.
When he was done, he turned off the laser drill and floated it back to the Commandant’s outstretched palms.
Nori’s screams continued to rent the air. The Emperor gritted his teeth as the sound grated his ears and his nerves. The sound was making his head pound.
“Shut her up!” he ordered.
Immediately one of the stormtroopers produced a hypo spray that was pressed against the girl’s arm and rendered her unconscious.
The muffled shouts of the women ceased, and their guards released their holds over the women’s mouths.
The Emperor looked at the scene, then turned to head towards his ship. He stopped at the foot of the gangplank, stood there for a moment, then looked at the lightsaber his attendant held out. Using his hand, this time, not the Force, he picked it up. Then he slowly turned around and stepped slowly to the front of the women, and stopped.
“One thing more,” he said. “Don’t think I didn’t see the defiance that took place during the mating feast.” He pointed to Ashti, and immediately the guards assigned to Ashti dragged her over to hold her up in front of him.
“Oh, yes!” the Emperor crowed, smiling at Ashti. “I saw! I saw how my order to eat was disobeyed!” He turned his gaze to all of the restrained women, and gestured at Ashti. “Not just by her, but by all of you! But she shall serve as the proxy for all of you!”
The Emperor ignited the lightsaber and slashed across Ashti’s face. Lips, teeth, tongue were instantly obliterated. He swung the saber back in an arc across the top of her head, and ears, hair and scalp were instantly obliterated.
Every woman and child present screamed.
The Emperor turned off the lightsaber, returned it to Vader's hands, and hurried to his ship and up the gangplank, followed by his attendants.
When the door to the ship finally shut and blissful silence prevailed, the Emperor was at last able to let his hands drop from his ears.
He smiled.
The Creature-Empath mating had turned out to be a disappointment, but the carnage he had just unleashed was satisfactory. He could replay the screams of Nori, of the other women, of Ashti in his mind without the annoying headache effects that prolonged exposure to the actual sounds seemed to produce.
In the meantime, there were other things to attend to. The Death-Star II at the Sanctuary Moon of Endor was behind schedule. There were rumors of the Rebellion gaining strength. And...there was still the matter of Vader and his son to be dealt with.
In the morning, we women were assembled as usual preparatory for the Emperor’s departure.
At length, the Emperor emerged from the building complex with Nori on his arm. Her walk was awkward, because of the painful tears his invasion had made to her tender flesh, even though he hadn’t had time for the drugs to achieve a full erection before his mating session. But Nori held his arm as if being escorted to a formal ceremony, even if her walk was made with her knees bent and her legs spaced much wider apart than would have been considered graceful. But she walked. On her own feet.
The Emperor stopped when he reached the line of women, then peeled Nori’s hand off his arm and left her with them. She would not be going with him.
Gemma—and all the women—hoped that the Emperor would not burn his mark into her, hoped that she would be somehow special to him.
But two stormtroopers moved in behind Nori, ready to hold her still. She was such a slight thing, no more would have been needed.
The Emperor walked in front of the rank of women, interspersed with boy children, towards his ship. The Commandant waited for him on one side of the ramp, holding the laser drill. On the other, Vader held a lightsaber across his palms in similar fashion.
The women could do nothing but wait. They watched, holding their collective breath, hoping that the Emperor would simply board his ship and leave. But he didn’t. He turned to face them—and some of the older children cowered behind their mothers. He spread his arms wide, and addressed the camp.
“Among all the women in all the camps,” he pronounced, “There have been none whom I have considered as a potential consort.”
All around me, I could hear whispered murmurings. The Emperor was going to make Nori his consort?
“That has now changed,” he pronounced. “There remains, however, a final test to see if she is worthy.”
The Emperor made a gesture towards Vader with the lightsaber, and moved back the way he had come, to stand before Nori. His attendant followed. “You have pleased me,” he said to Nori, but loud enough for all of us to hear. “But you must now prove your worthiness. Choose. Are you strong enough to be the consort of an Emperor?” He stretched out his hand towards Vader, and the lightsaber flew the short distance to his grip.
The Emperor then held the lightsaber out to Nori. “If so, prove it. Prove it by choosing one of these women, and ending her life!”
As a unit, the guards behind the women, one pair of guards to each woman, seized the women and held them. Children in the arms of some were taken from them, and moved to the side by stormtroopers assigned to the children.
Nori looked at the women with wide, wild eyes. Not a single woman struggled.
She hadn’t known she would be tested like this.
“We love you, Nori!” Ashti’s voice cried out.
Each woman took up the cry. “We love you, Nori! We love you, Nori!” Gemma’s voice was the loudest.
They were forgiving her for whatever choice she made.
The cacophony was starting to give the Emperor a headache. He waved an arm in an arc to get the attention of the stormtroopers, then put a finger to his lips to signal that he wanted silence. The noise quieted as stormtroopers smothered the women’s mouths with their armor-gloved hands. No longer able to produce distinguishable sounds, the women could only squeeze indistinguishable muffled noises past the smothering gloves. But every person present knew what they were trying to say: We love you, Nori!
“Choose!” the Emperor demanded, over the muffled voices. “Forfeit the life of one of the women, or forfeit your own! Will you be my consort, or will you not?”
Nori looked at the lightsaber in her hand, then raised her eyes to the Emperor. “You are my mate,” she said. “You are my mate. My liege. My Emperor. But these women…are my mothers.” She knelt to one knee and held the weapon out to the Emperor in both palms. An offering.
Stunned, the Emperor took the weapon from her.
Then Nori moved to kneel on both knees before him, and used her hands to lift her hair and bare her neck. She bowed her head. And waited. The muffled shouting from the women died away.
The Emperor stared. She was supplicant, but not acquiescing to his desire.
For a long moment, everyone remained frozen in place. Then, from next to the shuttle’s ramp, the Commandant called out, “A choice has been given! The choice has been made!”
There was no response from the stormtroopers.
The Commandant repeated. “A choice has been given! The choice has been made!”
Then some of the helmeted stormtroopers joined in the chant. “A choice has been given! The choice has been made!”
The volume grew as more and more of the stormtroopers joined in. “A choice has been given! The choice has been made!”
Nori waited expectantly. But the Emperor did not cut off her head, as he had ordered Vader to do with the young boys. Vader was not here. If he wanted Nori killed, he would have to do this himself.
Now nearly all of the stormtroopers had joined in. “A choice has been given! The choice has been made!” They repeated, “A choice has been given! The choice has been made!” And again, “A choice has been given! The choice has been made!”
Finally, the Emperor held up a hand, and the chanting ceased. He used the hand to rub his head, now throbbing, and looked down at Nori, kneeling before him. “I see that you are no better than the others!” he said finally. “Stay here, then! Bear my children, as they do! Bear my mark!”
He gestured, and the guards assigned to Nori seized her and raised her from the floor.
The Emperor returned the lightsaber to Vader's outstretched palms, and motioned to the Commandant. The Commandant approached, and Vader with the lightsaber returned to his place. The Commandant stopped before the Emperor, and the Emperor pulled the laser drill to himself using the Force. It had been pre-set already, but the Emperor adjusted the strength upward. He looked into Nori’s terrified child-eyes as the girl struggled in the stormtroopers’ grasp, and his lips twisted into a cruel smile. He waved a hand, and Nori’s elegant skirt raised to reveal her perfect young thigh.
The Commandant now motioned, and additional stormtroopers moved in to hold Nori immobile. The Emperor turned on the laser drill, and slowly, slowly inscribed a long line down the entire side of her thigh to the knee.
Nori’s screams of pain seemed only to make the Emperor’s smile grow wider. He finished inscribing the long stem, then made a slow half-circle at the top of the line, impinging on the delicate flesh of Nori’s inner thigh, and returning to the freshly made burn-line. The large “P” penetrated through all of the layers of skin, and carved into the muscle below. The stench of seared flesh permeated the air, punctuating Nori’s screams.
When he was done, he turned off the laser drill and floated it back to the Commandant’s outstretched palms.
Nori’s screams continued to rent the air. The Emperor gritted his teeth as the sound grated his ears and his nerves. The sound was making his head pound.
“Shut her up!” he ordered.
Immediately one of the stormtroopers produced a hypo spray that was pressed against the girl’s arm and rendered her unconscious.
The muffled shouts of the women ceased, and their guards released their holds over the women’s mouths.
The Emperor looked at the scene, then turned to head towards his ship. He stopped at the foot of the gangplank, stood there for a moment, then looked at the lightsaber his attendant held out. Using his hand, this time, not the Force, he picked it up. Then he slowly turned around and stepped slowly to the front of the women, and stopped.
“One thing more,” he said. “Don’t think I didn’t see the defiance that took place during the mating feast.” He pointed to Ashti, and immediately the guards assigned to Ashti dragged her over to hold her up in front of him.
“Oh, yes!” the Emperor crowed, smiling at Ashti. “I saw! I saw how my order to eat was disobeyed!” He turned his gaze to all of the restrained women, and gestured at Ashti. “Not just by her, but by all of you! But she shall serve as the proxy for all of you!”
The Emperor ignited the lightsaber and slashed across Ashti’s face. Lips, teeth, tongue were instantly obliterated. He swung the saber back in an arc across the top of her head, and ears, hair and scalp were instantly obliterated.
Every woman and child present screamed.
The Emperor turned off the lightsaber, returned it to Vader's hands, and hurried to his ship and up the gangplank, followed by his attendants.
When the door to the ship finally shut and blissful silence prevailed, the Emperor was at last able to let his hands drop from his ears.
He smiled.
The Creature-Empath mating had turned out to be a disappointment, but the carnage he had just unleashed was satisfactory. He could replay the screams of Nori, of the other women, of Ashti in his mind without the annoying headache effects that prolonged exposure to the actual sounds seemed to produce.
In the meantime, there were other things to attend to. The Death-Star II at the Sanctuary Moon of Endor was behind schedule. There were rumors of the Rebellion gaining strength. And...there was still the matter of Vader and his son to be dealt with.
-----
Chapter Twenty-Two--"Regrets, Revelations, and Redemption"
When Aviva finished telling her story, no one spoke for long, long minutes. Finally the old woman spoke again. “Well? What do you intend to do with me now?”
“Do?” Luke asked, not comprehending.
“I imagine you want to contact the authorities. I won’t try to run. But I must warn you that I doubt I shall be alive long enough to come to trial. I haven’t long left now, but truthfully, I would prefer that you use those weapons I saw under your cloaks earlier, to end me now rather than spend what little time I have left back in a cell. There wouldn’t be the rapes, of course, but neither would there be friends or sisters who would understand me.”
“We’ve no intention of calling the authorities,” Luke told her.
“Weren’t you paying attention? I seduced a child. I intentionally seduced a child! I molested a child. I touched a child in ways that no child should ever be touched!”
“How many times were you…intimate with Nori?” Luke asked.
“Only the once. Oh, she would come to me, sometimes, at night. Wanting to curl up with me in my bed. I’d let her, of course, and try to soothe her as best I could. Hold her. Hug her. Kiss her hair, her cheek…But never again her mouth, or her sacred place. I never touched her so intimately again. Not even when she would try to take my hand and put it on her ‘sacred place.’ Not even when she begged me to. Nor would I allow her to touch me, as she wanted to. I told her that we could be…that we could be intimate again when she was a little older, but she didn’t understand. Not really. I tried to love her in other ways than that most intimate way she longed for. I tried to explain to her that she just needed to be patient a few more years. I tried to tell her that I would love no other as I loved her. I promised her that I would touch no other by choice except her. But also, there could be no more intimate touches between us until she was older.”
Luke thought back to the boy Zac. No, she hadn’t touched the boy. Would never have touched him inappropriately, but would not so much as put her hand near his hand to accept a gift. How lonely that must be for her! Here was a woman who had so much affection to give, and because of a promise made to a child long dead, could only offer that affection, that show of love, to a mortu.
“She became pregnant right off, of course. And she insisted that since she was to be a mother, she was woman enough for such intimacy. I had some difficulty finding argument with that, so I argued the laws—laws that the Emperor himself had broken when he raped her, and me, and so many of the others. Meanwhile, Ashti was telling her to be patient, that I simply needed more time to adjust. That after suffering so much more of the Emperor’s abuse than Nori had, it would take me time to get more used to the idea of a loving touch.. That…had not the Emperor forced the timing of her mating on us, we might not have been intimate at all. Or maybe we would have, but not so soon. But Nori saw my reluctance as rejection, and began grieving that she would never know such love again. Then the Emperor was killed, and we were free--as free as we could be. By that time, she was heavy with child. So I finally relented and said that perhaps when she had completely healed from childbirth, we could be intimate the way she wanted. But I was still reluctant, because she was still so young. Then our sister was murdered, and Ashti thought it best if we scattered. I went with Nori, of course, and we ended up at Deraan Two. By then, it was time for the child to come. I don’t know. Maybe she finally figured out that I would have looked for some other excuse after that, and chose to seek death rather than life.”
Aviva looked between Luke and Rupert in distress. “It was all me. Nori knew what she wanted, but I didn’t know what I wanted. If it weren’t for the Emperor, I would never have dreamed of touching her. But then I did. What choice did I have? And…sometimes I thought about doing it again, and of her touching me, and wondering if I could ever feel that way about her. And sometimes I thought maybe I did, but then, sometimes she would be…so selfish, and I’d remember that she was still just a child, after all…”
“A child who was forced to have a child of her own,” Luke said.
“I did love her. I really did. I was just…torn between loving her as a mother, or loving her as…as something other than a mother.”
“You were put in an impossible situation,” Luke said. “Forced to do something you wouldn’t have otherwise done, to help Nori get through her impossible situation without losing her mind. And…you needed time. And Nori, being so young, didn’t understand.”
“When her child came, I helped her through the birth, delivered the babe—a boy, of course. That was the only other time I touched her in those intimate places, and the only time I ever touched the baby. But I sensed that there was danger where we’d been hiding on Deraan Two, that we should return to Ramos. I said that it would be better if we separated, given the danger we had left on Ramos, and meet back there separately. Nori said she would follow me once she had found the child a home. So I returned to Ramos, but she never followed. After a time, I returned to Deraan Two to search for her, but all I found were vague accounts of a young mother with a prominent burn mark, who had handed her child to a stranger, then returned outside where she was caught in an attack and killed. My sweet Nori killed herself because she could not bear not being loved in the intimate way she longed for, and could no longer bear the wait until I could love her again in that way.” The old woman’s eyes filled with tears, and her breathing came in ragged inhalations and exhalations.
“Or maybe…” Luke said thoughtfully, after a moment. “Maybe she was just trying to return to you as quickly as she could, and just happened to get caught in the raid. I had thought maybe she had committed suicide because she was going feral. But now I think…maybe it wasn’t suicide at all. Maybe she was just so anxious to return to her mate as quickly as possible, that she took a foolish risk to do it. Her body was found outside in what would have been the shortest route between the civilian sector and the ore shipping sector.”
“Do you think so?” The old woman wiped her eyes. “It’s a small comfort to think that perhaps she died because she was still just a foolish child rather than because she felt unloved. Thank you.”
Luke nodded once, then said, “Would you like to know what happened to Nori’s child?”
“No. Yes? I don’t know. As much as I loved the babe’s mother, I hated the father. As was the case for every child born in the camp. But we were—we are—no longer in the camp, and the choices are different. Tell me this much at least, if you know it, did the child survive?”
“He did. Nori chose well when she gave the baby to a surrogate mother to raise. The boy was raised in love.”
Aviva smiled a little. “That is good. I had…”
“What?” Rupert asked.
“I had a fleeting vision once that the boy would grow to be Jedi. Silly, wishful thinking, of course, but…” Her voice trailed off.
“He did,” Luke told her.
“He…what?”
“Grew to be Jedi.” Luke exchanged a look with Rupert. “Oh, he still has some things yet to learn, but he is most definitely Jedi.”
The old woman’s face lit up with a genuine joy. “Nori would have been so happy to know that! Tell me, is the boy a Creature-Empath like his mother?”
Luke exchanged another look with Rupert. “Why don’t you show her?”
Rupert shrugged and looked at his mortu, who had been laying quietly at his feet. The animal stood up, padded over to the old woman, sat, laid her head in the old woman’s lap, and wagged her tail furiously.
The old woman burst out laughing, and rubbed the animal’s head, buried her face in its fur. She looked up at Rupert. “You’re Nori’s son!” she exclaimed.
“And Palpatine’s,” Rupert reminded her. “I’m sorry for what my father—my biological father—did to you.”
“As it was not you, there is no need to apologize. And if it had been you, no amount of apology would be accepted.”
Luke smiled. That was exactly the sort of response he had hoped to hear.
“Nori’s son!” Without thinking, Aviva reached one hand out towards Rupert’s cheek, then froze, and pulled her hand back, and pressed the fingers of both hands against her own mouth.
Rupert glanced at Luke, then concentrated his gaze on the woman who represented the closest link he would ever have to his biological mother. He leaned towards her, to put himself, his face, within her easy reach. “If you will accept me as Nori’s proxy, then I release you from the promise you made to her. You’re released from your promise not to touch another.”
“Released…?” she murmured.
“And for my own part,” Rupert went on, “I would very much like to accept you as the proxy for the mother I will never know. I would very much like to touch you, as a son might touch his mother. But I won’t, of course. Not unless you give me leave.”
Slowly, Aviva reached her hand out towards him. The hand stopped half-way to his face, and stopped there, remained there, trembling.
Slowly, giving her plenty of time to back away, to change her mind, Rupert stretched his own hand towards hers. Two fingertips, the index fingers of each of them, touched lightly, then two more, and two more, until all the fingertips of one hand of each were lightly touching. Rupert brought his other hand up, and Aviva’s other hand slowly rose to meet it, until the fingertips of their other hands met, one by one, also in a feather-light touch.
They remained like that for several long minutes. “Nori’s son…” Aviva murmured.
Somehow, without either of them knowing exactly how, the pressure between their fingertips increased slightly, the touch becoming less tenuous. Then, slowly, the touch rolled down the lengths of their fingers, until the tops of their palms were touching. Then the touch rolled farther still down their hands, until their hands were fully touching, palm to palm. The pressure increased. Rupert closed his eyes, savoring the contact. Aviva studied him for a moment. Then slowly, Aviva pulled one hand back slightly, and Rupert responded in kind. But instead of dropping that hand, each of them, as if by some unspoken agreement, reached that hand to the side of the other’s face. When Rupert’s fingertips touched her cheek, Aviva now closed her eyes. “Nori’s son…” she murmured again.
The fingertips against each other’s face became light palms to the other’s face. Rupert leaned into the hand lightly touching his face, savoring the contact, the link to his mother, cherishing the contact. Aviva did the same, savoring this link to Nori, cherishing it.
Slowly, their other hands, the ones that had been pressing against the other’s palm to palm, released and they both reached out to lightly touch the other’s cheek on the other side.
They remained like that for long moments. Then Aviva opened her eyes and made a sound that was neither a sob nor a laugh. “I would only accept such release from Nori’s son.” Rupert opened his eyes and smiled. Aviva pressed the sides of his face lightly. She stared at him in joyous wonder.
“Her son…” Aviva repeated. She released one hand, and caressed Rupert’s cheek with the back of her hand. “Her son…”
Rupert released Aviva’s cheeks and slid his hands down to her shoulders. His eyes asked the question his mouth couldn’t.
Aviva laughed and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. “Nori’s son!” She ran one hand down his hair again and again. “Nori’s son!” She kissed Rupert on the cheek. “Her son!”
Hugging Rupert again, she looked at Luke, with happy tears now brimming in her eyes. “And Nori’s son is Jedi. Thank you for bringing him to me.”
“Luke, here, is also Jedi,” Rupert told her. “My teacher.”
The old woman’s eyes widened in surprise. Then, suddenly, the old woman released Rupert and clapped her hands together, then pressed them against her mouth. “Two Jedi!” she exclaimed. “Two Jedi have come to visit me in my home! And one of them is Nori’s son!”
“There are three Jedi in this room,” Luke said.
For an instant, she seemed confused. Then she gave a little laugh. “Oh, you mean me. But I failed, remember? I failed my test when I saw what would happen to me, and sought to escape my fate.”
Luke shook his head, with a small smile. “Who wouldn’t want to escape a fate like that?”
“Failed again when I would not fight the Emperor openly.”
“You’d have lost.”
“Failed when I could find no other option to save Nori than to touch her so inappropriately.”
“But you did save her. You passed your test. You passed it over and over again. You passed your test every time you helped Nori or one of the others. You passed your test the minute you stopped the first pregnancy. And again and again every time you stopped another one. And again and again when you ensured that all the pregnancies you couldn’t stop were female.”
“Oh, you caught that, did you?”
“That you were a Bio-Mech as well as a Seer? Yes.”
“It could have been chance. Fifty-fifty each time.”
“Each and every time? I have a hard time believing that.”
“If Palpatine had realized it, he would have punished me the way he did Ashti.”
“Or worse,” Luke agreed. “But since Vader didn’t know—and so didn’t tell him—maybe Palpatine didn’t notice.”
“I think…maybe the Emperor may have noticed a little. But he likely judged my abilities to be much weaker than they actually were. He probably thought that my dominant gift was second to my Sight—which was never so great, after all—when actually it was the other way around. But I don’t think he realized that I could exchange the male blastocysts he implanted with female ones I created myself. And there were several female blastocysts that he created himself that I didn’t even have to exchange.”
“To tell the sex of a blastocyst—you would have had to be a very powerful Bio-Mech.”
She smiled, a little sadly. “Master Chu, who foresaw the same future for me that I did, thought it best to keep my true ability a secret. He didn’t tell the Council, and it wasn’t on my record.”
“Hmm. That might explain part of it. But I also think that with every single woman in the camp—probably all of the camps—being Jedi, it may have distracted the Emperor enough not to notice.”
“Every single one?” Aviva frowned. “Some of them, like Ashti, were students at the Jedi Academy before the Purge, but…”
“Every. Single. One,” Luke asserted. “You all looked out for each other, risking the Emperor’s wrath to do it.”
She thought about that for a moment. “Maybe…Maybe some…maybe Ashti…”
“Every single one,” Luke repeated. “Every woman. And every child, too.”
She shook her head. “Nori was too frightened to do anything for herself, much less anybody else.”
“Even Nori. After she was raped, she faced the same choice that the male children faced. And she made the same decision. And in the end, she gave her child—the product of rape—to someone she thought might be able to take care of him, and love him. She loved someone she could easily have hated. Loved him enough to give him a decent life. And she loved you. And the other women, too, but most especially you. Even before you mated her to you.” Luke spread his arms. “As I said. All of you Jedi. You helped Nori to survive the camp and reach that point where she could find love within herself when it so easily could have gone the other way.”
The woman’s eyes filled with tears that spilled over. “Thank you. I had not thought of it that way.”
“Every single woman, and every single child. Including you. Jedi.”
“I molested a child.”
“You saved a child from a fate that terrified her. You loved the child.”
“I would have loved the woman, too. But I couldn’t bring myself to touch Nori that way again until she was a proper adult. Much to my regret.”
“Being Jedi is never easy.”
“No… But I was a coward. I am a coward.”
“You’re not. You’re…a survivor. You did what you needed to survive.”
The old woman shook her head. “I was a coward. I wasn’t brave, like Ashti.”
Luke tilted his head. “Ashti…was a fighter. You were also brave, in a different way. You helped the other women, helped them survive, too. Especially Nori. If Palpatine had learned how you helped them, you’d have been punished. Maybe you wouldn’t have survived. But you did.”
“I survived. But what else could I do?”
“You could have…looked out only for yourself. But you didn’t. You looked out for the others, too.”
She thought about that for a moment. “Thank you,” she said simply.
“Now, I have something to tell you. It won’t be easy to hear. And then there’s a question or two I want to ask you.”
“What?”
“First, I think I should introduce myself properly, as it may make a difference in your answer to the questions I want to ask you. I told you that my name is Luke. That’s true. But I didn’t tell you my last name. It’s Skywalker. Anakin Skywalker was my father.”
The old woman sucked in air. “Vader’s son. But you are Jedi?”
“Yes. Trained by Ben Kenobi and Master Yoda.”
She let her breath out again. “I suppose you’ll do, then. What did you want to ask me?”
“Two things. One—for future reference. In case any or some of my grandchildren turn out to be Creature Empaths, too. Once Nori started menstruating and you knew it would not be long before the Emperor claimed her, you told her that she didn’t have to accept him as her mate.”
“Yes.”
“That she could…mate to herself.”
“A white lie. She didn’t believe Ashti when Ashti told her that she could choose not to accept the Emperor as her mate. That it would simply be rape, as the rest of us were raped. Nori’s parents had drilled into her the importance of choosing her mate carefully, how the sex act would create a certain…unbreakable bond between herself and her mate. But she was so young when they were killed and she was brought to the camp, that she didn’t fully understand what they were trying to tell her. And then when the Emperor said that she would be his consort—well, it was too much for her. So Ashti told her she could mate to herself. Even had _____ demonstrate the way of…pleasuring oneself. But the poor child couldn’t do it. The poor child was so anxious that she couldn’t manage it.”
“So you helped her by mating her to you. But there was no penetration. It’s usually the sexual experience that mates a Creature-Empath.”
“The climax, not the sex act itself. And even that is not enough. There has to be…a desire for the prospective mate in order for even that to work. There has to be affection. It was not likely, even had I not mated Nori to me, that the Emperor would have succeeded in his attempt to mate her to him. She had no feelings for him except fear and loathing. Rape would not have mated her to him. Even a climax induced by his drugs would not have mated her to him. We tried to tell her that. But she was so terrified of the prospect, that she couldn’t get past the terror. It was her terror that was the real danger. A Creature-Empath lives constantly between two worlds, that of humans, and that of creatures. Animals—creatures—live primarily for survival and procreation. Human beings have those drives, too, but also the capacity for higher thought, and Nori was in danger of losing that capacity entirely. Nori’s terror alone could have made her lose her mind completely. She was more in danger of the insanity than she actually was of being mated to the Emperor.”
“Oh,” Luke breathed, finally understanding.
“She could not be mated to him unless she wanted to be. Had the Emperor understood that, had he understood that she had to choose him, he would have been more…ungentle with her than he was.”
“So you…?”
Aviva smiled, a little nervously. “So I. There, on the Emperor’s bed, before he came to her. I helped her to have no fear that she would be mated to the Emperor. He could hurt her in other ways, and he did, but not in that way. So now that you know the whole truth, do you still think we were both Jedi?”
“Yes,” Luke assured her. “More than ever.”
Aviva’s eyes filled with tears. “I am glad to know that there are one or two Jedi who think that all of us were, too.”
“About that…you’re sure you’re dying? Most Seers have difficulty seeing their own deaths. And aside from your age—which I don’t put as many years ahead of mine, given your age at the time Vader destroyed the Jedi on Coruscant, even accelerated by the fertility drugs—I don’t sense anything physically wrong with you. On top of that, you’re a Bio-Mech.”
She waved a hand. “I don’t know the specifics, but I saw. I saw that I would tell my story, and then I would die. When the two of you appeared and asked me to tell you my story, I knew that death wouldn’t be far behind. But I am ready. When I began my tale, I wasn’t sure if I was, but I am now.”
“And yet you told us your story anyway.”
“We all die. It’s all right. I’m ready now. Now that I’ve met Nori’s son. Who is Jedi! Now that you have told me that I, that Nori, that all the others were also Jedi, I am ready.”
“But what if…you haven’t told your whole story yet? Or…haven’t yet told it to all the people who need to hear it?”
“I’ve told you my story.” She moved her eyes to Rupert, “You, and Nori’s son. What more is there to tell?”
“Well, off-hand, I can think of one other person who might really benefit from hearing your story first-hand. My daughter didn’t quite have your experiences, of course, but she’s a survivor of some pretty horrific things herself. She’s come a long way in her own healing, but hearing your story could help her go a bit farther. And I’m sure Dr. Tibbik—he’s a psychologist who deals with trauma—knows other survivors who could benefit from hearing at least part of your story. Mostly ‘normies,’ of course, but still. And future generations of Jedi who could benefit from hearing it, learning what it takes sometimes to survive, and what it means to love. And I’m sure you know the stories of some of the other women from the camp that you haven’t told us yet. You could write it all down, preserve it for future generations. Or record it. Whatever. You could specify which parts you were willing to share with which people, and when. What you’re willing to share after your death, for instance. And then there’s your Bio-Mech capabilities. I’ve never been much good at teaching that. I have a new grandson who will need to be trained, and maybe more grandchildren on the way, who will also need to be trained. You might be just the one to help with that. There are more people you could help, just as you helped the women in the camp. Maybe your story is not over just yet.”
“You’re offering me a job? At my age?”
“Well, not me so much as Rupert, here.”
Rupert grinned and leaned forward. “What about it? The job comes with…housing accommodations. Better than your current situation. Food, of course. A decent salary. And…helpers--helpers, not servants. And flexible hours. And we can take you to see Ashti again. In fact, she’ll have a job, too, if she wants it. What do you say?”
Rupert punctuated the request with the mortu’s pleading whine and soulful eyes looking up to meet hers from the old woman’s lap.
The woman looked from the mortu, to the rags she was wearing, to the crate she used as a table, to the shabby tent she called home.
Then she reached a hand to caress the cheek of Nori’s son, kneeling before her.
Then she smiled. “I thank you. But the two of you now know my story, and can share it with whoever needs to hear it.”
“Ah, but it wouldn’t be the same, coming from one of us,” Rupert said.
“May I think about it?”
“Of course.”
“I know my life here is very humble, but…I have friends…a very few, I know…but I would hate to give them up. Zac, whom you met, for instance…”
“Well, even if you decide to stay,” Rupert said, “we could help you in other ways. Do you remember the reward we offered for any information leading us to you? It’s yours. And more! Hearing your story—and Nori’s—has meant so much to me, I will happily give you anything I can!”
“There is no need for a ‘reward.’” Aviva said. “And my story, and Nori’s, are not for sale in any case. Consider the telling my gift to you. My gift to Nori’s son.”
“And I thank you for it most sincerely. But—”
Luke cleared his throat. “The reward was for information leading us to you, not for the telling of your story. You led us to you. The reward was for finding you. Surely you’ve earned that.”
She considered that for a moment, then shrugged. “What would I do with so much money? A few small comforts—” she lifted the new blanket Luke and Rupert had bought for her, and then indicated the provisions they had left for her among her belongings “—are enough. Any more might…create jealousy among the few friends that I have. Keep your money.”
“Something for your community, then?” Rupert asked. “Surely you would like to do something to help your neighbors and your friends?”
The old woman thought for a minute, then finally nodded. “Yes. I suppose I would accept something on their behalf.”
“What would you like?”
“Better…drinking water?”
Rupert nodded. “We can provide filters throughout the city, maybe upgrade the water system. What else.”
“Perhaps…better sanitation?”
“A public facility—more than one—for toilets, showers, laundry—and of course, locals would have to be hired to run it. What else?”
She thought for another minute, then said, “Well, if I were to dream…”
“What would you dream for?”
“A small clinic, perhaps? Someplace where the sick who cannot pay might go to be treated?”
“As many free clinics as we can find space for! What else?”
A small smile touched her lips. “Well, as long as I’m dreaming…”
“Dream!”
“Well, then…a school. For the children. One that includes…art…music…regular meals…”
“We’ll call it the ‘Gemma Paviva Center. And we’ll include adult education classes for those who want to improve their lives by learning different trades. ”
“No, not that. Call it…Call it the Nori Lin Center.”
“We’ll call the first one the Nori Lin Center, and the second one the Gemma Paviva Center.”
She made a small sound like laughter. “If there’s to be a second one, call it the Ashti Ranko Center.”
“The third one, then?”
Now she did laugh—a full, genuine laugh. “If you build a facility named after every woman who was in the camp, you may name the last one after me.”
“Done! I’ll set Mom to get started on obtaining the permissions and political clearances right away. And Brenna could use the construction process as a training tool for the Croyus Four volunteers—supplemented, of course, by as many of the locals who could be hired to help. She might even appeal to the Clan Tahl for whatever additional funding might be needed. And we’ll invite you, and Ashti, and as many of the other women who are still alive to attend every single grand opening.” Rupert turned his grin to Luke, who nodded and smiled back.
“And in the meantime,” Luke said, “as long as you’re still living, you could tell your story again to Rupert’s mate, my daughter, who could benefit from hearing it directly from you. She didn’t experience exactly the same as you, but she had…an ordeal of her own…and I think the two of you might have some interesting things to talk about that could only benefit both of you. Then there’s Dr. Tibbik’s current and future patients who might benefit from hearing a modified or edited version of your story. And Rupert’s son and future children—all potential Creature-Empaths like Nori—who could benefit from your story for other reasons. We could record it for them, for after you’re gone—if indeed your demise is so imminent. We'll add whatever Ashti can tell us from her experiences as the mate of a Creature-Empath to help with that, too. So you see, it might even be that your story isn’t even over yet, much less the telling of it.”
“Right!” Rupert said. “And I really--really—hope that you might talk to my wife. I had already chosen her as my mate before we were fully intimate, and she thought—still thinks, maybe—that after we had…been intimate, that I had no further choice in the matter. That as…deeply personal as I have always found our unions to be, that I was somehow coerced into it, and she was responsible.
"So not charity, then?"
"Not charity. A favor. One that only you can grant. What do you say?"
“I say ‘yes,’” she said.
When Aviva finished telling her story, no one spoke for long, long minutes. Finally the old woman spoke again. “Well? What do you intend to do with me now?”
“Do?” Luke asked, not comprehending.
“I imagine you want to contact the authorities. I won’t try to run. But I must warn you that I doubt I shall be alive long enough to come to trial. I haven’t long left now, but truthfully, I would prefer that you use those weapons I saw under your cloaks earlier, to end me now rather than spend what little time I have left back in a cell. There wouldn’t be the rapes, of course, but neither would there be friends or sisters who would understand me.”
“We’ve no intention of calling the authorities,” Luke told her.
“Weren’t you paying attention? I seduced a child. I intentionally seduced a child! I molested a child. I touched a child in ways that no child should ever be touched!”
“How many times were you…intimate with Nori?” Luke asked.
“Only the once. Oh, she would come to me, sometimes, at night. Wanting to curl up with me in my bed. I’d let her, of course, and try to soothe her as best I could. Hold her. Hug her. Kiss her hair, her cheek…But never again her mouth, or her sacred place. I never touched her so intimately again. Not even when she would try to take my hand and put it on her ‘sacred place.’ Not even when she begged me to. Nor would I allow her to touch me, as she wanted to. I told her that we could be…that we could be intimate again when she was a little older, but she didn’t understand. Not really. I tried to love her in other ways than that most intimate way she longed for. I tried to explain to her that she just needed to be patient a few more years. I tried to tell her that I would love no other as I loved her. I promised her that I would touch no other by choice except her. But also, there could be no more intimate touches between us until she was older.”
Luke thought back to the boy Zac. No, she hadn’t touched the boy. Would never have touched him inappropriately, but would not so much as put her hand near his hand to accept a gift. How lonely that must be for her! Here was a woman who had so much affection to give, and because of a promise made to a child long dead, could only offer that affection, that show of love, to a mortu.
“She became pregnant right off, of course. And she insisted that since she was to be a mother, she was woman enough for such intimacy. I had some difficulty finding argument with that, so I argued the laws—laws that the Emperor himself had broken when he raped her, and me, and so many of the others. Meanwhile, Ashti was telling her to be patient, that I simply needed more time to adjust. That after suffering so much more of the Emperor’s abuse than Nori had, it would take me time to get more used to the idea of a loving touch.. That…had not the Emperor forced the timing of her mating on us, we might not have been intimate at all. Or maybe we would have, but not so soon. But Nori saw my reluctance as rejection, and began grieving that she would never know such love again. Then the Emperor was killed, and we were free--as free as we could be. By that time, she was heavy with child. So I finally relented and said that perhaps when she had completely healed from childbirth, we could be intimate the way she wanted. But I was still reluctant, because she was still so young. Then our sister was murdered, and Ashti thought it best if we scattered. I went with Nori, of course, and we ended up at Deraan Two. By then, it was time for the child to come. I don’t know. Maybe she finally figured out that I would have looked for some other excuse after that, and chose to seek death rather than life.”
Aviva looked between Luke and Rupert in distress. “It was all me. Nori knew what she wanted, but I didn’t know what I wanted. If it weren’t for the Emperor, I would never have dreamed of touching her. But then I did. What choice did I have? And…sometimes I thought about doing it again, and of her touching me, and wondering if I could ever feel that way about her. And sometimes I thought maybe I did, but then, sometimes she would be…so selfish, and I’d remember that she was still just a child, after all…”
“A child who was forced to have a child of her own,” Luke said.
“I did love her. I really did. I was just…torn between loving her as a mother, or loving her as…as something other than a mother.”
“You were put in an impossible situation,” Luke said. “Forced to do something you wouldn’t have otherwise done, to help Nori get through her impossible situation without losing her mind. And…you needed time. And Nori, being so young, didn’t understand.”
“When her child came, I helped her through the birth, delivered the babe—a boy, of course. That was the only other time I touched her in those intimate places, and the only time I ever touched the baby. But I sensed that there was danger where we’d been hiding on Deraan Two, that we should return to Ramos. I said that it would be better if we separated, given the danger we had left on Ramos, and meet back there separately. Nori said she would follow me once she had found the child a home. So I returned to Ramos, but she never followed. After a time, I returned to Deraan Two to search for her, but all I found were vague accounts of a young mother with a prominent burn mark, who had handed her child to a stranger, then returned outside where she was caught in an attack and killed. My sweet Nori killed herself because she could not bear not being loved in the intimate way she longed for, and could no longer bear the wait until I could love her again in that way.” The old woman’s eyes filled with tears, and her breathing came in ragged inhalations and exhalations.
“Or maybe…” Luke said thoughtfully, after a moment. “Maybe she was just trying to return to you as quickly as she could, and just happened to get caught in the raid. I had thought maybe she had committed suicide because she was going feral. But now I think…maybe it wasn’t suicide at all. Maybe she was just so anxious to return to her mate as quickly as possible, that she took a foolish risk to do it. Her body was found outside in what would have been the shortest route between the civilian sector and the ore shipping sector.”
“Do you think so?” The old woman wiped her eyes. “It’s a small comfort to think that perhaps she died because she was still just a foolish child rather than because she felt unloved. Thank you.”
Luke nodded once, then said, “Would you like to know what happened to Nori’s child?”
“No. Yes? I don’t know. As much as I loved the babe’s mother, I hated the father. As was the case for every child born in the camp. But we were—we are—no longer in the camp, and the choices are different. Tell me this much at least, if you know it, did the child survive?”
“He did. Nori chose well when she gave the baby to a surrogate mother to raise. The boy was raised in love.”
Aviva smiled a little. “That is good. I had…”
“What?” Rupert asked.
“I had a fleeting vision once that the boy would grow to be Jedi. Silly, wishful thinking, of course, but…” Her voice trailed off.
“He did,” Luke told her.
“He…what?”
“Grew to be Jedi.” Luke exchanged a look with Rupert. “Oh, he still has some things yet to learn, but he is most definitely Jedi.”
The old woman’s face lit up with a genuine joy. “Nori would have been so happy to know that! Tell me, is the boy a Creature-Empath like his mother?”
Luke exchanged another look with Rupert. “Why don’t you show her?”
Rupert shrugged and looked at his mortu, who had been laying quietly at his feet. The animal stood up, padded over to the old woman, sat, laid her head in the old woman’s lap, and wagged her tail furiously.
The old woman burst out laughing, and rubbed the animal’s head, buried her face in its fur. She looked up at Rupert. “You’re Nori’s son!” she exclaimed.
“And Palpatine’s,” Rupert reminded her. “I’m sorry for what my father—my biological father—did to you.”
“As it was not you, there is no need to apologize. And if it had been you, no amount of apology would be accepted.”
Luke smiled. That was exactly the sort of response he had hoped to hear.
“Nori’s son!” Without thinking, Aviva reached one hand out towards Rupert’s cheek, then froze, and pulled her hand back, and pressed the fingers of both hands against her own mouth.
Rupert glanced at Luke, then concentrated his gaze on the woman who represented the closest link he would ever have to his biological mother. He leaned towards her, to put himself, his face, within her easy reach. “If you will accept me as Nori’s proxy, then I release you from the promise you made to her. You’re released from your promise not to touch another.”
“Released…?” she murmured.
“And for my own part,” Rupert went on, “I would very much like to accept you as the proxy for the mother I will never know. I would very much like to touch you, as a son might touch his mother. But I won’t, of course. Not unless you give me leave.”
Slowly, Aviva reached her hand out towards him. The hand stopped half-way to his face, and stopped there, remained there, trembling.
Slowly, giving her plenty of time to back away, to change her mind, Rupert stretched his own hand towards hers. Two fingertips, the index fingers of each of them, touched lightly, then two more, and two more, until all the fingertips of one hand of each were lightly touching. Rupert brought his other hand up, and Aviva’s other hand slowly rose to meet it, until the fingertips of their other hands met, one by one, also in a feather-light touch.
They remained like that for several long minutes. “Nori’s son…” Aviva murmured.
Somehow, without either of them knowing exactly how, the pressure between their fingertips increased slightly, the touch becoming less tenuous. Then, slowly, the touch rolled down the lengths of their fingers, until the tops of their palms were touching. Then the touch rolled farther still down their hands, until their hands were fully touching, palm to palm. The pressure increased. Rupert closed his eyes, savoring the contact. Aviva studied him for a moment. Then slowly, Aviva pulled one hand back slightly, and Rupert responded in kind. But instead of dropping that hand, each of them, as if by some unspoken agreement, reached that hand to the side of the other’s face. When Rupert’s fingertips touched her cheek, Aviva now closed her eyes. “Nori’s son…” she murmured again.
The fingertips against each other’s face became light palms to the other’s face. Rupert leaned into the hand lightly touching his face, savoring the contact, the link to his mother, cherishing the contact. Aviva did the same, savoring this link to Nori, cherishing it.
Slowly, their other hands, the ones that had been pressing against the other’s palm to palm, released and they both reached out to lightly touch the other’s cheek on the other side.
They remained like that for long moments. Then Aviva opened her eyes and made a sound that was neither a sob nor a laugh. “I would only accept such release from Nori’s son.” Rupert opened his eyes and smiled. Aviva pressed the sides of his face lightly. She stared at him in joyous wonder.
“Her son…” Aviva repeated. She released one hand, and caressed Rupert’s cheek with the back of her hand. “Her son…”
Rupert released Aviva’s cheeks and slid his hands down to her shoulders. His eyes asked the question his mouth couldn’t.
Aviva laughed and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. “Nori’s son!” She ran one hand down his hair again and again. “Nori’s son!” She kissed Rupert on the cheek. “Her son!”
Hugging Rupert again, she looked at Luke, with happy tears now brimming in her eyes. “And Nori’s son is Jedi. Thank you for bringing him to me.”
“Luke, here, is also Jedi,” Rupert told her. “My teacher.”
The old woman’s eyes widened in surprise. Then, suddenly, the old woman released Rupert and clapped her hands together, then pressed them against her mouth. “Two Jedi!” she exclaimed. “Two Jedi have come to visit me in my home! And one of them is Nori’s son!”
“There are three Jedi in this room,” Luke said.
For an instant, she seemed confused. Then she gave a little laugh. “Oh, you mean me. But I failed, remember? I failed my test when I saw what would happen to me, and sought to escape my fate.”
Luke shook his head, with a small smile. “Who wouldn’t want to escape a fate like that?”
“Failed again when I would not fight the Emperor openly.”
“You’d have lost.”
“Failed when I could find no other option to save Nori than to touch her so inappropriately.”
“But you did save her. You passed your test. You passed it over and over again. You passed your test every time you helped Nori or one of the others. You passed your test the minute you stopped the first pregnancy. And again and again every time you stopped another one. And again and again when you ensured that all the pregnancies you couldn’t stop were female.”
“Oh, you caught that, did you?”
“That you were a Bio-Mech as well as a Seer? Yes.”
“It could have been chance. Fifty-fifty each time.”
“Each and every time? I have a hard time believing that.”
“If Palpatine had realized it, he would have punished me the way he did Ashti.”
“Or worse,” Luke agreed. “But since Vader didn’t know—and so didn’t tell him—maybe Palpatine didn’t notice.”
“I think…maybe the Emperor may have noticed a little. But he likely judged my abilities to be much weaker than they actually were. He probably thought that my dominant gift was second to my Sight—which was never so great, after all—when actually it was the other way around. But I don’t think he realized that I could exchange the male blastocysts he implanted with female ones I created myself. And there were several female blastocysts that he created himself that I didn’t even have to exchange.”
“To tell the sex of a blastocyst—you would have had to be a very powerful Bio-Mech.”
She smiled, a little sadly. “Master Chu, who foresaw the same future for me that I did, thought it best to keep my true ability a secret. He didn’t tell the Council, and it wasn’t on my record.”
“Hmm. That might explain part of it. But I also think that with every single woman in the camp—probably all of the camps—being Jedi, it may have distracted the Emperor enough not to notice.”
“Every single one?” Aviva frowned. “Some of them, like Ashti, were students at the Jedi Academy before the Purge, but…”
“Every. Single. One,” Luke asserted. “You all looked out for each other, risking the Emperor’s wrath to do it.”
She thought about that for a moment. “Maybe…Maybe some…maybe Ashti…”
“Every single one,” Luke repeated. “Every woman. And every child, too.”
She shook her head. “Nori was too frightened to do anything for herself, much less anybody else.”
“Even Nori. After she was raped, she faced the same choice that the male children faced. And she made the same decision. And in the end, she gave her child—the product of rape—to someone she thought might be able to take care of him, and love him. She loved someone she could easily have hated. Loved him enough to give him a decent life. And she loved you. And the other women, too, but most especially you. Even before you mated her to you.” Luke spread his arms. “As I said. All of you Jedi. You helped Nori to survive the camp and reach that point where she could find love within herself when it so easily could have gone the other way.”
The woman’s eyes filled with tears that spilled over. “Thank you. I had not thought of it that way.”
“Every single woman, and every single child. Including you. Jedi.”
“I molested a child.”
“You saved a child from a fate that terrified her. You loved the child.”
“I would have loved the woman, too. But I couldn’t bring myself to touch Nori that way again until she was a proper adult. Much to my regret.”
“Being Jedi is never easy.”
“No… But I was a coward. I am a coward.”
“You’re not. You’re…a survivor. You did what you needed to survive.”
The old woman shook her head. “I was a coward. I wasn’t brave, like Ashti.”
Luke tilted his head. “Ashti…was a fighter. You were also brave, in a different way. You helped the other women, helped them survive, too. Especially Nori. If Palpatine had learned how you helped them, you’d have been punished. Maybe you wouldn’t have survived. But you did.”
“I survived. But what else could I do?”
“You could have…looked out only for yourself. But you didn’t. You looked out for the others, too.”
She thought about that for a moment. “Thank you,” she said simply.
“Now, I have something to tell you. It won’t be easy to hear. And then there’s a question or two I want to ask you.”
“What?”
“First, I think I should introduce myself properly, as it may make a difference in your answer to the questions I want to ask you. I told you that my name is Luke. That’s true. But I didn’t tell you my last name. It’s Skywalker. Anakin Skywalker was my father.”
The old woman sucked in air. “Vader’s son. But you are Jedi?”
“Yes. Trained by Ben Kenobi and Master Yoda.”
She let her breath out again. “I suppose you’ll do, then. What did you want to ask me?”
“Two things. One—for future reference. In case any or some of my grandchildren turn out to be Creature Empaths, too. Once Nori started menstruating and you knew it would not be long before the Emperor claimed her, you told her that she didn’t have to accept him as her mate.”
“Yes.”
“That she could…mate to herself.”
“A white lie. She didn’t believe Ashti when Ashti told her that she could choose not to accept the Emperor as her mate. That it would simply be rape, as the rest of us were raped. Nori’s parents had drilled into her the importance of choosing her mate carefully, how the sex act would create a certain…unbreakable bond between herself and her mate. But she was so young when they were killed and she was brought to the camp, that she didn’t fully understand what they were trying to tell her. And then when the Emperor said that she would be his consort—well, it was too much for her. So Ashti told her she could mate to herself. Even had _____ demonstrate the way of…pleasuring oneself. But the poor child couldn’t do it. The poor child was so anxious that she couldn’t manage it.”
“So you helped her by mating her to you. But there was no penetration. It’s usually the sexual experience that mates a Creature-Empath.”
“The climax, not the sex act itself. And even that is not enough. There has to be…a desire for the prospective mate in order for even that to work. There has to be affection. It was not likely, even had I not mated Nori to me, that the Emperor would have succeeded in his attempt to mate her to him. She had no feelings for him except fear and loathing. Rape would not have mated her to him. Even a climax induced by his drugs would not have mated her to him. We tried to tell her that. But she was so terrified of the prospect, that she couldn’t get past the terror. It was her terror that was the real danger. A Creature-Empath lives constantly between two worlds, that of humans, and that of creatures. Animals—creatures—live primarily for survival and procreation. Human beings have those drives, too, but also the capacity for higher thought, and Nori was in danger of losing that capacity entirely. Nori’s terror alone could have made her lose her mind completely. She was more in danger of the insanity than she actually was of being mated to the Emperor.”
“Oh,” Luke breathed, finally understanding.
“She could not be mated to him unless she wanted to be. Had the Emperor understood that, had he understood that she had to choose him, he would have been more…ungentle with her than he was.”
“So you…?”
Aviva smiled, a little nervously. “So I. There, on the Emperor’s bed, before he came to her. I helped her to have no fear that she would be mated to the Emperor. He could hurt her in other ways, and he did, but not in that way. So now that you know the whole truth, do you still think we were both Jedi?”
“Yes,” Luke assured her. “More than ever.”
Aviva’s eyes filled with tears. “I am glad to know that there are one or two Jedi who think that all of us were, too.”
“About that…you’re sure you’re dying? Most Seers have difficulty seeing their own deaths. And aside from your age—which I don’t put as many years ahead of mine, given your age at the time Vader destroyed the Jedi on Coruscant, even accelerated by the fertility drugs—I don’t sense anything physically wrong with you. On top of that, you’re a Bio-Mech.”
She waved a hand. “I don’t know the specifics, but I saw. I saw that I would tell my story, and then I would die. When the two of you appeared and asked me to tell you my story, I knew that death wouldn’t be far behind. But I am ready. When I began my tale, I wasn’t sure if I was, but I am now.”
“And yet you told us your story anyway.”
“We all die. It’s all right. I’m ready now. Now that I’ve met Nori’s son. Who is Jedi! Now that you have told me that I, that Nori, that all the others were also Jedi, I am ready.”
“But what if…you haven’t told your whole story yet? Or…haven’t yet told it to all the people who need to hear it?”
“I’ve told you my story.” She moved her eyes to Rupert, “You, and Nori’s son. What more is there to tell?”
“Well, off-hand, I can think of one other person who might really benefit from hearing your story first-hand. My daughter didn’t quite have your experiences, of course, but she’s a survivor of some pretty horrific things herself. She’s come a long way in her own healing, but hearing your story could help her go a bit farther. And I’m sure Dr. Tibbik—he’s a psychologist who deals with trauma—knows other survivors who could benefit from hearing at least part of your story. Mostly ‘normies,’ of course, but still. And future generations of Jedi who could benefit from hearing it, learning what it takes sometimes to survive, and what it means to love. And I’m sure you know the stories of some of the other women from the camp that you haven’t told us yet. You could write it all down, preserve it for future generations. Or record it. Whatever. You could specify which parts you were willing to share with which people, and when. What you’re willing to share after your death, for instance. And then there’s your Bio-Mech capabilities. I’ve never been much good at teaching that. I have a new grandson who will need to be trained, and maybe more grandchildren on the way, who will also need to be trained. You might be just the one to help with that. There are more people you could help, just as you helped the women in the camp. Maybe your story is not over just yet.”
“You’re offering me a job? At my age?”
“Well, not me so much as Rupert, here.”
Rupert grinned and leaned forward. “What about it? The job comes with…housing accommodations. Better than your current situation. Food, of course. A decent salary. And…helpers--helpers, not servants. And flexible hours. And we can take you to see Ashti again. In fact, she’ll have a job, too, if she wants it. What do you say?”
Rupert punctuated the request with the mortu’s pleading whine and soulful eyes looking up to meet hers from the old woman’s lap.
The woman looked from the mortu, to the rags she was wearing, to the crate she used as a table, to the shabby tent she called home.
Then she reached a hand to caress the cheek of Nori’s son, kneeling before her.
Then she smiled. “I thank you. But the two of you now know my story, and can share it with whoever needs to hear it.”
“Ah, but it wouldn’t be the same, coming from one of us,” Rupert said.
“May I think about it?”
“Of course.”
“I know my life here is very humble, but…I have friends…a very few, I know…but I would hate to give them up. Zac, whom you met, for instance…”
“Well, even if you decide to stay,” Rupert said, “we could help you in other ways. Do you remember the reward we offered for any information leading us to you? It’s yours. And more! Hearing your story—and Nori’s—has meant so much to me, I will happily give you anything I can!”
“There is no need for a ‘reward.’” Aviva said. “And my story, and Nori’s, are not for sale in any case. Consider the telling my gift to you. My gift to Nori’s son.”
“And I thank you for it most sincerely. But—”
Luke cleared his throat. “The reward was for information leading us to you, not for the telling of your story. You led us to you. The reward was for finding you. Surely you’ve earned that.”
She considered that for a moment, then shrugged. “What would I do with so much money? A few small comforts—” she lifted the new blanket Luke and Rupert had bought for her, and then indicated the provisions they had left for her among her belongings “—are enough. Any more might…create jealousy among the few friends that I have. Keep your money.”
“Something for your community, then?” Rupert asked. “Surely you would like to do something to help your neighbors and your friends?”
The old woman thought for a minute, then finally nodded. “Yes. I suppose I would accept something on their behalf.”
“What would you like?”
“Better…drinking water?”
Rupert nodded. “We can provide filters throughout the city, maybe upgrade the water system. What else.”
“Perhaps…better sanitation?”
“A public facility—more than one—for toilets, showers, laundry—and of course, locals would have to be hired to run it. What else?”
She thought for another minute, then said, “Well, if I were to dream…”
“What would you dream for?”
“A small clinic, perhaps? Someplace where the sick who cannot pay might go to be treated?”
“As many free clinics as we can find space for! What else?”
A small smile touched her lips. “Well, as long as I’m dreaming…”
“Dream!”
“Well, then…a school. For the children. One that includes…art…music…regular meals…”
“We’ll call it the ‘Gemma Paviva Center. And we’ll include adult education classes for those who want to improve their lives by learning different trades. ”
“No, not that. Call it…Call it the Nori Lin Center.”
“We’ll call the first one the Nori Lin Center, and the second one the Gemma Paviva Center.”
She made a small sound like laughter. “If there’s to be a second one, call it the Ashti Ranko Center.”
“The third one, then?”
Now she did laugh—a full, genuine laugh. “If you build a facility named after every woman who was in the camp, you may name the last one after me.”
“Done! I’ll set Mom to get started on obtaining the permissions and political clearances right away. And Brenna could use the construction process as a training tool for the Croyus Four volunteers—supplemented, of course, by as many of the locals who could be hired to help. She might even appeal to the Clan Tahl for whatever additional funding might be needed. And we’ll invite you, and Ashti, and as many of the other women who are still alive to attend every single grand opening.” Rupert turned his grin to Luke, who nodded and smiled back.
“And in the meantime,” Luke said, “as long as you’re still living, you could tell your story again to Rupert’s mate, my daughter, who could benefit from hearing it directly from you. She didn’t experience exactly the same as you, but she had…an ordeal of her own…and I think the two of you might have some interesting things to talk about that could only benefit both of you. Then there’s Dr. Tibbik’s current and future patients who might benefit from hearing a modified or edited version of your story. And Rupert’s son and future children—all potential Creature-Empaths like Nori—who could benefit from your story for other reasons. We could record it for them, for after you’re gone—if indeed your demise is so imminent. We'll add whatever Ashti can tell us from her experiences as the mate of a Creature-Empath to help with that, too. So you see, it might even be that your story isn’t even over yet, much less the telling of it.”
“Right!” Rupert said. “And I really--really—hope that you might talk to my wife. I had already chosen her as my mate before we were fully intimate, and she thought—still thinks, maybe—that after we had…been intimate, that I had no further choice in the matter. That as…deeply personal as I have always found our unions to be, that I was somehow coerced into it, and she was responsible.
"So not charity, then?"
"Not charity. A favor. One that only you can grant. What do you say?"
“I say ‘yes,’” she said.