Star Wars: Dark Angel, Scarlet Dragon Ch. 02

Lylla enjoyed this sparring, as opposed to simple quizzing. "No knowledge is inferior, my Lord." She took the slight turn over his shoulder as approval for that answer. "Besides," she added in a huff, "it's embarrassing to rely on a protocol droid for a language so primitive. I'm above that. ALL humans are." She pulled at her restraints again, and let out a playful whimper. "Untie me, Vader. Please."

"In time." Her frustrated grunt amused him. He scanned more lessons. For a much longer time than before. Lylla knit her brows, wondering what he found- and realized that she had not erased her private research from the learning banks. Oh gods, she thought. He won't be pleased.

"Bio-nano construction of reproductive blastophytes. Stem cell manipulation for reconstruction of damaged organs at the subatomic level." He paused far too long for her comfort. "Lylla. We have discussed this."

"Yes, we have." Her tone was defiant. "But I refuse to give up."

As the droid arms lowered the armor's pauldron onto his shoulders, he read her emotions: Her outward defiance was a thin veil for a churning emptiness inside of her. He waved his hand, and the restraints holding Lylla down unwrapped themselves from her limbs, freeing her. "We cannot have a child. The doctors have confirmed this."

"No, that is not what the doctors said," she retorted, rising from the chair, rubbing feeling back into her wrists, and walking toward the sumptuous midnight-blue velvet and black furred dressing gown that hung closeby. "They said your odds of begetting children were slim-"

"One said that." He found Lylla's tenacity a double-edged blade. On one edge, admirable, the other, infuriating.

She pressed on. "But not impossible. Me, however..." She pulled a breath, "I was chemically sterilized. My ovaries were destroyed." She pulled the gown around herself, quickly and a little angrily, clasping it closed. "But if there is the smallest chance we could have a child, I refuse to believe it is impossible. Not from everything you've shown me, of what I've seen and experienced." She grit her teeth, and her tone escalated with every word. "You said it yourself- the Dark Side of the Force is infinite. The Dark Side will give us a son, I believe that. With the Force, we can manipulate science, we can force nature to-"

"Lylla," he rumbled. She fell silent. "No children, Lylla. It is time you accepted that." He felt her anger. And her jealousy. "I fail to understand this obsession."

"You know why," she snarled.

"Your tone is inappropriate." He meant it.

Lylla pushed her frustration to her core. She calmed her mind and chose her words. "I want to have our child, Vader," she said. "Our child. Not adopted, not cloned. OURS, an heir from your seed and my flesh. I want to carry your son and birth him from my body. You ask me why it's so important; I ask you why you are so against it?"

"I will answer the same as you." His tone was cold. "You know why."

She did know why. Their reasons were different, but their answer was the same- A name he forbade ever be spoken again. A ghost that never left.

The tense moment was broken by the chamber's com. "Lord Vader, Piett here. We have entered the Corellian Trade Spine and reconnoitered with the Slave I."

"The mechanic?" Vader asked.

"We have her."

"Enter."

The argument was instantly forgotten. "The mechanic?" Lylla asked breathlessly. "The one traced back to the Rebel base on Yavin 4?"

"The one."

Lylla's euphoria returned at the thought of the greatest interrogation of her career so far. "Then she'll know who did it."

"Yes." The appendages placed his cape upon his shoulders and drew the latch across his gorget. The platform where he stood turned slowly around until he faced her. The door opened, and he stepped out in a cloud of steam. "We will soon know the name of the Force-strong pilot who destroyed the Death Star."

iv

"This way, gentlemen," Palissa said, gesturing through the door.

Piett, Rhys, and Fett came through the parted doors into the grand room of Lylla's apartments. Piett faced straight forward, his hands clasped behind his back, standing at

his usual rigid attention, but still utterly aware the pretty young woman was looking at him. Frankly, Piett didn't quite understand what she saw in him. Hardly a ladies' man, he was far older than she, not terribly good-looking, and not very personable. The only reason he married at all was for a promotion. It wasn't as though he didn't love his wife, it was just... no. He didn't love his wife. Rhys's words played in his thoughts. Enjoy her. There's no shame in it.

Hesitantly, he turned over his shoulder and returned Palissa's gaze. A smile as young as dawn lit her face. In return, he gave her the softest, subtlest smile he could muster. I'm playing with fire, he thought. But all the years of duty and dedication and discipline, living for just one purpose, and that purpose was the Empire... Perhaps it is time I had a little fire in my life.

Meanwhile Rhys, this being the first time he was allowed into the Dragon's Den, glanced around as subtly as possible. It was a manor built within a machine of war. The great room alone took up two levels of the ship, with one entire wall hosting an enormous viewport. A catwalk circumvented the humongous room, with doors leading to Lylla's bedchamber as well as rooms for her ward Palissa, her dresser, her stylist, her aesthetician, her chef and kitchen staff, her wardrobe, her study, and her personal spa. The furniture was sumptuous, the art was priceless, the rugs were rare, the chandeliers gleaming. No officer had quarters like this.

Piett, on the other hand, thought it a waste of space and a garish manifestation of an ambitious and arrogant opportunist, no matter what her talents were.

And Boba Fett merely checked his holocom for any new bounty coming down the pike.

Across the great room on the other side from the enormous windows, a black-domed entrance jutted from the wall. The dome split in half, with dim light illuminating a mist of steam. Fully armored and recovered, Lord Vader emerged, followed closely by Grand Inquisitor Baroness Lylla Sa'thraxxx.

While Vader approached the officers, Lylla broke away, moving to Palissa. Piett watched the Dragon encircle Palissa's neck into an embrace, and kiss her on the head. Palissa giggled, and embraced her back. Lylla whispered something into her ear. Palissa immediately complied, breaking away and taking one of the lifts to the catwalks, stealing one last look at Captain Piett. Lylla made her way back to the Dark Lord's side, but not before she shot a glare at Boba Fett. Fett merely tipped her his helm her way.

Vader hooked his thumbs into his belt. "Report, bounty hunter."

"My source told me about the Rebels running ship parts off of Corellia, and she was one of the buyers," Fett said. "Found their meeting place, the deal was going down. Between sellers and buyers, there were about five in all. They put up a fight. You just needed the one alive, right?"

"You mean you killed the rest of them?" Rhys asked incredulously.

"Is that a problem?" Fett asked.

"Dead Rebels do not concern me, Lieutenant," Vader rumbled. "Only this one."

Fett came forward, handing Vader a datapad. "Tiri Akiro. Planet of origin; Torize."

"An industrial world," Vader noted.

"A shithole" Fett added. "Age, twenty. One living relative, a father. Last seen there three years ago, no official record of her whereabouts since."

"We assume she's been with the Rebellion that whole time," Piett added.

"Unofficial record?" Vader asked Fett.

Fett nodded. "Confirmed. She was on Yavin 4. She's tough, but not too bright. She likes to shoot off her mouth."

Vader perused the datapad. "Is there a Destroyer in the vicinity of the Tennhausen Gate?" Vader asked Piett.

"Yes, my Lord. The Engager."

"Dispatch it to Eldilir V." Piett nodded to Rhys, who stepped away to relay the order. "Retrieving the Rebel and discovering a Rebel smuggling operation in the process. Excellent work, bounty hunter."

"Two in one. It'll cost you, Vader."

"Of that I have no doubt," Vader replied. "You are free to go, Boba Fett. Until I need you again," he added with just a touch of menace.

"You know where to send it." Fett looked at Lylla and bowed his head to her in a deference that Lylla was certain he didn't mean. "Baroness," he rasped. Lylla looked down her nose at him. He turned to go. But before he left, he leaned into Piett and muttered, "Take the risk. You need it." With that, Fett walked out the door.

Lylla slit her eyes and flared her nostrils. *Why do you let him talk to you like that?* she pathed to Vader.

*Because he is competent and he does not fear me. He is one of only three in this galaxy who meet that criteria.*

*Who is the second?*

*Wrenga Jixton.*

*And the third?*

*You.*

Lylla glanced up at him and stifled a smile as her heart jumped a little.

Piett, having settled himself after Fett's last remark, stepped forward to Vader. "She had this on her, My Lord." He held up the confiscated holocom. "Unfortunately, she seems to have wiped any useful information off its drive. Except for one holomessage."

"Play it," Vader ordered. Piett placed the device on a small table nearby and switched it on. Light sputtered and sparked until the twenty-centimeter image came into view. It was a young man, blonde with a smaller build, early twenties. He wore an orange Rebel pilot's suit, holding his helmet under his arm.

"Hey Tiri, how's my favorite mechanic?" The youth's voice had a higher register and a jovial timbre. He gestured a thumb behind him. "Listen, I'm having some problems with the starboard thrusters on my X-wing, I'm just not getting the hard bank I like, and I'm gonna need that in case we meet up with some TIEs at some point. Think you might have some time to give them a once-over?" He smiled. "There's a two bottles of Corellian ale in it for you. I heard you liked it, and I got connections."' His smile grew broader. "Let me know when you can get to it. You're the best, Tiri." The image blinked out.

Lylla glanced at Vader, as did Piett. Vader, however, said nothing; he just stared at the now empty table top. Piett took his silence to mean the Dark Lord might need more information. "My Lord, the message has been played 57 times. That may be significant." Lylla snorted a laugh through her nose.

Vader turned his mask to her. "Your thoughts." It was not a request.

She sniffed to compose herself. "I'd say it's significant. She's in love with him."

The two officers glanced at each other, both perplexed. "And you know this how, Lady?" Rhys asked. He cleared his throat. "Respectfully." He bristled a bit when she slid that white glare his way and sauntered toward him.

"Lieutenant," she began, coming close enough to him so that her eyes were level with his. Rhys had never realized how tall she really was, even without heels. "Have you never received a love note? Or any communication from someone you were intensely attracted too? How many times did you look at it again?"

Rhys felt his face getting hot, but for an entirely different reason this time. While he tried to stay focused on a spot above her eyes, he could still see that she was enjoying his discomfort. "A few times. Perhaps."

"Perhaps?" She hummed a chuckle. Lylla stood a little too close to Rhys for a little too long before she slowly turned to Piett. She crossed her arms. "Play it again," she ordered.

Piett sniffed, trying not to show his contempt for taking orders from this woman with no official rank. Nevertheless, he restarted the holocom. The image flickered back. As the message played, Lylla slowly walked around it, observing the young man from every angle as she listened intently, taking in every nuance, every inflection of his tone. "Hey Tiri, how's my favorite mechanic? Listen, I'm having some problems with the starboard thrusters on my X-wing, I'm just not getting hard bank I like, and I'm gonna need that in case we meet up with some TIEs at some point. Think you might have some time to give them a once-over? There's a two bottles of Corellian ale in it for you. I heard you liked it, and I got connections. Let me know when you can get to it. You're the best, Tiri."

"Freeze it." said Lylla. Piett complied. She addressed Vader. "She's watched this over fifty times. She wiped all data from the drive, except this. She simply couldn't let this go. And the sad part? He doesn't have a clue." She traced a talon around the youth's image. "His tone is friendly, not amorous. His body language... casual, relaxed, and he makes solid eye contact with the holocamera. No looking away, no uncertainty, not a hint of intimacy or sexual familiarity. Judging from all this, he barely knows she exists. She's just his mechanic. Tch, poor girl."

"Well done, Baroness," Vader murmured.

Lylla smiled a little, almost girlishly, before snapping back into her cool forbidding manner. She turned to Piett. "Despite how much you dislike me Captain Piett, you must admit I can be useful at times." She took a moment to admire his scowl before looking at Vader. "I can use this. Oh, I can definitely use this." She waited for a reply. But none came. Vader continued to look at the hologram of the young Rebel pilot on the tabletop. "My Lord...?"

Finally he spoke. "I will conduct the interrogation myself." He turned to Piett and Rhys. "Have the prisoner readied."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Leave the holocom."

"Yes, my Lord," Piett said. He turned to leave, but not before he caught a glimpse of the fury simmering under Lylla's skin and her glare at the Dark Lord. He took Rhys's elbow. "NOW," he whispered at his lieutenant. Rhys hastily complied.

Once outside, Piett barked at the troopers to follow him into the lift, with Rhys directly behind. Piett sighed relief as the doors closed and the car started moving. "The Dragon is unhappy."

"She certainly deserves that name," Rhys snarled, still unsettled from her attention.

"Yes," Piett agreed. "They are, indeed, a match made in the dimensional hells."

v

Vader turned to face Lylla. "Have your say."

Lylla narrowed her eyes. "Isn't interrogation the whole reason I am on this ship? Or is it just the reason you told me so I can gratify you when your needs arise?"

"Don't be a child." She was about to retort when he raised his hand. Lylla tried to speak, but she couldn't. She ground her teeth in her Force-muted mouth. She hated when he did this to her. "If you tempered your tongue, I wouldn't have to," he answered her thoughts. He continued. "Physical torture is unneeded here. If she has been with the Rebellion this long, she has been trained in counter-interrogation tactics. Like Leia Organa." Once he felt her calm, he gave Lylla her voice back.

"I've smashed those defenses before," she muttered. "Why should now be any different?"

"Because you can't use the Force," he answered bluntly. He watched her shoulders slump. "You said it yourself, we can use her emotions against her. Seduction is quicker. The Force will be far more efficient." He stepped closer to the hologram, tilting his helm down. "If she loves him...then we will let her have him."

Her frown deepened as she tried to grasp what he was saying. Slowly it came to her. "You don't mean...No. Not him. He's MINE."

"I don't recall ever granting you ownership, Lylla," Vader growled.

Lylla clenched her hands in frustration and hurt. The avatar of his former self, the avatar he sometimes used when he Force-bonded with her for the especially strenuous fornication that his physical body wouldn't allow him. Her golden-haired desert god, her lover of fire and dreams, was about to be used on a prisoner. On worthless Outer Rim backwater Rebel scum.

"Your cruelty isn't amusing anymore," she muttered.

"Neither is your arrogance," Vader countered calmly. "You are placing your vanity above your duty and your fealty to me. It is beneath you."

She spun around, eyes flashing. He expected her to challenge him, as she was want to do. But she didn't. She stopped, and he saw her face change from angry to thunderstruck, and then relax with profound awareness. A stillness came off her, a brooding calm... and the Dark Side was there, all around her. For a moment, Vader thought she may be able to finally touch it? Without him with her, Lylla could never touch or use the Force by herself. But it was always with her. Always.

"You're right," she finally said. She drew a long breath, and lowered her eyes. "I am being foolish. I wanted this interrogation for my own glory. And this jealousy? Of what? A pathetic, love-struck Rebel mechanic with only a few hours to live?" She placed her hands on the back of a chair, and drew herself up in a regal pose. "I serve the Empire. I serve the Dark Side of the Force. But above all else, I serve you." She looked at him. "Forgive me. My Master."

Vader came to her. He stood behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders and pulling her into him. "You have grown immensely since we first met," he murmured. He took a thick lock of her black-streaked scarlet hair into his glove, rubbing it in his fingers, using the Force to actually feel its silk. "You become more of what you were meant to be with every passing day. You are truly transformed." He brushed his fingers down her throat and caressed her collar bone. Lylla responded with a shuddering breath, leaning back into him and nuzzling his glove with her cheek. "I do not do this to punish you, Lylla. I will get that name by any means necessary. It has nothing to do with you and I." She nodded. He turned her around to face him. "I still want you there to assist me."

She exhaled in relief. He certainly didn't need her there, but allowing her to assist him was a rare generous gesture for the Sith Lord. His words gave her comfort, and she placed her hand on his. "Of course."

He ran a thumb over her cheek. "Go prepare." He dropped his voice. "Wear the special one."

She peeled her lips over her teeth like a Rancor over a fresh kill. So, there would be a little pain after all. "Thank you, my love."

vi

Troopers, officers, and droids alike cleared to the walls of the Executor's corridors as Lord Vader passed them at his fierce pace, the Baroness flanking his right. Despite being halfway through their three year mission to hunt down the Rebel Alliance, there were still some crew members who had never seen the Dark Lord of the Sith or the Scarlet Dragon simply because of the massive size of the ship. So a first sighting, especially of the two of them together, was particularly jarring, if not outright terrifying.

This visual intimidation was no accident: It was actually part of Lylla's curriculum. **Never show weakness, Sa'thraxxx. Never show limitation. Do not rely on transports- stay on the ground, walk as if the earth was created for your foot alone. Be seen. Never let your rank isolate you from your subordinates. Stay in the trenches. Listen to everything, miss nothing. Never order any of your agents to do you would not do yourself. Loyalty is earned, not entitled. Choose your circle wisely.

Wear your power.**

And she did. She had her entire couture habiliment designed around her authority as an Imperial Grand Inquisitor. She didn't own one ensemble that didn't provoke respect or fear or even lust- for there was also power there that could easily be weaponized. The one she wore now was one of which she was the most proud; A black suit, impeccably designed and fitted by her modiste and his army of tailors. But the tailoring was only the last step in its creation; the first was the re-engineering of every instrument of an IT-O interrogation droid to be incorporated into the suit. Ultrasonic bone fragmenters, photon tissue splicers, electroshock nerve disrupters, and syringes were all deftly incorporated into the sleeves, gloves, legs, and boots of the suit's design. But the finishing touch was the victim analysis photoreceptor. The engineers took the iconic red sensor of the dreaded torture droid and modified it with a projected holographic screen that could be incorporated into one of her many opulent hairstyles. With it, she could track her victim's' vital signs and pain levels, and hence adjust the interrogation according to her needs and their suffering.