Seekers Passage
Look all around you and notice you're not alone We want to give you the courage to go a different way.
Think of the love and attention we all have shown.
What did we do when we heard, why we all came right away.
I know what you need.
This will really work.
In ancient times when you were sick they made you bleed Oh honey, I know it hurts...
- Rasputina, 'Signs of the Zodiac'-
"If there was ever a more hard-working person in the galaxy, I should very much like to meet him." Dax moaned, removing his white Storm Trooper's helmet. The day had been long and ridiculously hot, and his dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. Weariness, a fatigue that came as much from his heart as from the irritating pain in his body, caused his shoulders to sag.
He sat down heavily on a steel bench bolted to the floor.
"All that aside, I guess I should begin the story."
"Whenever you're ready, Trooper XR775." The Disciplinary Officer was a slight man with a very unbecoming pot belly straining against the starched fabric of his uniform. His pen hovered above the pad of paper in his lap expectantly while he watched Dax with cold dead fish eyes.
"You've got to believe that none of this was her fault."
"The Empire will judge her. She will be given a fair trial. Now on to your deposition, if you don't mind?"
Dax shrugged, thinking that he very much minded, in fact. But after a deep breath, he began to speak.
"There aren't any female Storm Troopers for obvious reasons, but that doesn't mean that women are completely useless to the Emperor. He keeps concubines, as many people know. Some of them are trained in combat, to act as sleeper units in times of need. Djana was one of them. What she lost of herself in the Emperor's bed she gained tenfold in her Dark Force powers. But she hated it. Oh god how she hated it"
"I understand. But what led to the crime that she has been accused of."
Dax fiddled with the rim of his helmet, not meeting the other man's eyes.
"Look, I know you need to pin this on someone, and she makes a good target. But before you recommend that the officers sign her Purification and Execution order, you need to hear the whole story. She was the Emperor's pet, but she never loved him. Her heart belonged to someone else, someone she could never have."
"You are referring to her companionship with the late Lord Vader?"
"Yes. But don't say it like that. They weren't companions. There was never anything between them like that. It was...different. She worshipped him."
"Many did. And still do."
Dax shook his head slowly.
"No. This was different. I don't know how to explain it."
"Please try, Trooper," the psychologist prompted, "You were her only friend. You are the one individual who might be able to offer some insight into this mess."
"For Djana, I'll try. But you need to hear it from the beginning..."
Djana Eleison wasn't exactly beautiful, not in the classic sense. Her eyes weren't huge and luminous, her hair didn't fall in soft waves down her back, and she didn't have skin like milk. But somehow, men responded to her as they seldom did with other, more beautiful women. Djana knew why. It was the pheremones. Her people, the Gigans, gave off subtle waves of musky perfume at all times, most especially when they were very angry or very aroused. It was always the former these days.
The Emperor had first found Djana in a shitty little penal colony near the Outer Rim where she was serving a twenty year sentence for theft. She didn't even know he was there, or that he'd seen her. Anyone could have been in that observation tower at any time, and no one on the Rim ever expected to be the subject of Imperial scrutiny. Still, she'd somehow attracted his attention, and had been sent for late one night to come to the barracks.
The guards that came for her weren't like anything she'd ever seen. Huge, menacing, and dressed all in red robes of the finest cloth money could buy. A few penal guards were with them, tasers at the ready, and she had no choice but to get up from her filthy pallet, throw on a prison-issue cloak, and go quietly.
Down a hallway, up a flight of stairs, through a heavy set of steel doors and into a private rooom.
"Get in." One of the penal guards gestured with his taser at, of all things, a tub full of steaming water.
"Why?" Djana asked, genuinely mystified.
"Just do it, prisoner. And take off those rags."
"Not on your life."
The guard sighed in exasperation, clearly losing patience.
"Look, I'm not interested in having messy forcible sex with a prisoner. I just got married last month. And she isn't a convicted thief. Now get in the damn tub and wash yourself. I'll turn my back, but don't expect the Imperial Guards to do so. Just get it over with the easy way and don't give me a headache tonight, ok Gigan?"
Djana glared at him for a moment longer, then began to strip off the layers of dusty linen. Her body was firm and lean from years of starvation and hard work, her back scored with perhaps a dozen ugly whip-weals. The warm soapy water felt indescribably good against her dry skin. She picked up a cloth and began to wash the caked on dirt and grime from her body, her hair, her face. When the water was as black as mud and Djana was pink and clean, she stood up and stepped out of the tub. The only thing to wear that wasn't totally filthy was the cloak, so she wrapped it around her shoulders and stepped out of the tub.
"I'm done."
The Imperial Guards still faced her, but she couldn't tell if they were looking or not. The prison guard turned around and tossed her a clean tunic.
"Put this on and follow the Guards. Do what you're told and you might just find your sentence commuted. The Emperor wishes to employ you."
"You have got to be fucking with me. What could the Emperor possibly want from a prisoner?"
The guard leered unpleasantly at her.
"Oh, I think he'll enjoy finding out more about your...talents, Gigan."
It took Djana all of ten seconds to discern the man's meaning. She dropped the clean tunic in shock.
"What! Oh no! No way! Just take me back to my cell right now, thanks so very much. I would really rather rot. I've seen plenty of pictu--"
The guard hit her hard above the left temple with the butt of his taser, cutting her off before she could offer her assesment of Emperor Palpatine's physical appearance. She stumbled a bit, taking the blow, but didn't fall. A nasty gash had opened on her head, and she dabbed at it with the hem of the cloak.
"All right, damn it. Don't just stand there and bleed at me. Put this thing on and follow the guards or you'll find yourself up to your neck in dewback shit for the next twenty years."
"I'll take the shit." Djana said under her breath, but she offered no more resistance. Truthfully, she just didn't have it in her anymore. The new tunic itched and it was too small, but at least it was clean.
She followed the guards out of the washroom, feeling sick.
The Emperor waited for her in the officer's barracks. He was cloaked, as always, and deceptively frail-looking. Just a gentle old man, horribly scarred and malformed, watching her with gleaming eyes. The power that flowed from beneath that robe was almost too much to bear. Djana felt like curling into a little ball and sobbing.
"Well now...let's have a look at you. Guards, you may go." he whispered, and the Guards left.
And Djana was alone with the Emperor, and he wasted no time. His scaly hands, bony and sharp and awful, touching her still-damp skin in the most horrible ways possible. The memories of that evening were too painful to bear.
It was pure agony, and she knew that there would be no end in sight.
Coming home a day later - it would never be her home, not in a thousand years - with the Emperor, she was shown to a set of guest quarters that were more lush and expensive than anything she'd ever seen before. She was given gowns of pure silk, expensive bath oils and perfumes from far-away planets, and as much food as she wanted. But she was kept in utter seclusion, alone and miserable save for the infrequent visits of her horrible captor and the occasional excursion outdoors under heavy guard. There were other concubines, she sometimes saw glimpses of them through the filmy curtains of the balcony when they were outside in the garden. Beautiful women, even from a distance, and seemingly enjoying more freedom than she was. Djana never asked why they were granted the privilage of the garden without any guards and she was not. She knew.
The Emperor couldn't trust her not to run away.
It was a valid point. Given the slightest chance Djana would have been past the guards and out into the clean vastness of space on a stolen ship. Forget the silks and the food and the jewelry. Forget the cloying, loveless embraces of the Emperor. Oh yes...most especially forget those.
A year passed in misery and sadness.
It was late in the afternoon during a rainstorm, and the skies above Coruscant were dark and brooding. Djana sat alone by the window, idly brushing her long dark hair for lack of anything better to do. The Emperor had been there the night before, and she still felt cold and awful inside from the experience. A tap at the door signaled the arrival of her handmaiden.
"Come in." The door opened slowly, and a young Twi-lek slipped in, bearing a tray of fruit and a pitcher of wine.
"Good evening, Mistress. Enjoying the storm?"
"Fallah, I'm miserable. I don't enjoy anything. I know you won't bring me a passkey or a weapon or anything useful, but could you perhaps find it in your heart to bring a lump of poison sometime? I promise I would use it only on myself."
The girl blushed and lowered her eyes.
"I cannot, Mistress. Would you like me to draw you a bath?"
Djana sighed, rising to her feet.
"No thanks. I took several this morning. What I would like is to get outside for a little while. Will you convey my request to the guards?"
"I will, Mistress."
"Ridiculous, that I have to be led about like a tame bantha while those other women enjoy lots of freedom"
"I will fetch a guard, Mistress." The Twi'lek said softly, and left the room. Djana grabbed a long velvet cloak and swirled it around her shoulders, covering her head with the soft purple hood. The hateful day that the Emperor first came for her, he had insisted that she always cover herself while in public. All of the cloaks made for her were lined with a pheremone-proof microfiber that kept her subtle scent from reaching the senses of any nearby males. He was viciously jealous, ridiculously so. As though Djana felt like dallying with any of the mindless pawns that surrounded him.
Hours passed, and no guard came. Djana finally took off the cloak, sitting down on the edge of the bed and putting her face in her hands. She could feel the hate welling up inside her, opening her, freeing her. It gave her focus and power in a way, although she would have been hard put to explain why. Gigans had a natural connection to the Force, and Djana's misery made her more inclined to embrace the darkness rather than the light. Perhaps the Emperor sensed this - he seemed to have an uncanny ability to read the minds and emotions of others. Djana was an open book. A tattered, weary, angry open book. Her eyes flooded with moisture, and she dug at them with her nails to distract herself from the pain within.
He did not knock. All doors were open to a Sith Lord. Djana shot to her feet instantly when she heard the handle turn, and a moment later a nightmare in pristine black stood before her, huge and menacing.
"Lord Vader..." she breathed. Awe was in her voice, and an odd respect. He had never harmed her, though she instinctively knew he would in an instant if his Master told him to do so.
"Mistress Eleison. I would have words with you." His voice was abnormally, electronically low. She had never heard him raise that voice above its customary soft rumble. Did he even have a temper? Something told her not to test the question... ever.
"I believe my schedule is clear at the moment, my Lord." Djana said rather shortly, betraying her irritation. "Sit down, Mistress. This discussion may take some time. And you may want to tend to your wounded eye"
Djana touched her face, and was surprised to see her finger come away bloody. She must have dug a bit too deeply in her attempt to stem the flow of tears. She looked at the floor, ashamed. "I...had an itch." she mumbled lamely. Though Vader did not believe her, he had the social grace to refrain from commenting. Djana slipped into the bathroom and washed her face, her hands trembling as they always did when He was near. It wasn't fear exactly, but something very much akin to it shrank her heart and pinched her stomach every time she was faced with the armored warrior.
When she emerged from the small room, Vader was standing near the window with his back to her, watching the long lines of ships move through the gathering dusk.
"My Lord?"
He didn't turn around. "You will sit down."
After she'd settled on a white velvet settee, the Sith Lord turned to regard her with his inscrutable gaze. "It is the will of the Emperor that you begin training in the Dark Arts, that you may better serve him. I have enlisted the aide of several teachers already, and more will follow. We will leave today for Asheron, the asteroid where your training will commence."
Djana blinked, surprised.
"What?"
Vader gracefully waved away her question.
"To begin with, you will be taught the lore of the Force by an exceptional scholar. Next you will craft your own lightsaber. These things will take some time. I daresay you will find yourself with very little free time in the coming months."
"That would be a blessing, my Lord." Djana said bitterly. Vader sat back in the chair and regarded her with an unreadable stare.
"You are miserable." he noted. Djana would have laughed if he were anyone else. As it was, she felt the sting of tears beginning in the corners of her eyes again.
"Yes, my Lord Vader. You are correct. I am miserable."
"Perhaps you could be so kind as to explain why. You have everything a woman of your birth could hope for, and a great deal beyond. Protection, prestige, the attentions of a powerful man. Material possessions of the highest quality and servants to care for your every need. I am curious as to your reasons for being dissatisfied."
Djana toyed with a fold of her robe, not meeting Vader's gaze.
What did she have to lose? Her life? Her freedom? Both were distant memories. Even dying in great pain beneath the fury of a Sith Lord seemed sweeter than accepting the putrid seed of the Emperor between her shaking legs even one more time. She looked up, defiant in the face of death.
"I hate him. I hate the Emperor with every ounce of my heart and soul. Damn the material gifts and damn the servants. Damn the prestige and especially damn the attentions of the Emperor. He disgusts me in every way possible. I would rather die than spend another night with him, and if you want to kill me for saying so, then so be it. I'm ready to die. Now."
Vader shook his head irritably.
"Calm yourself, Mistress Eleison. This outburst is most unbecoming. I am well aware of the reasons behind your unrest, and I do not hold any ill feelings toward you for those opinions"
Djana snapped her gaze up to meet his. Acceptance was the last thing she had anticipated.
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