Clea Darkrunner
Apr 3rd, 2005, 01:16:12 AM
IMPERIAL PRINCESS - Part 1
All her life, Kit Alexander had been an Imperial. Lady Kristine deFay Alexander, of the military family line of Alexander, had had a brilliant military career. An Honors Graduate of the Imperial Naval Academy, she had risen quickly to the rank of Captain, commanding the Corvette "Empire Dreams". She had been on the bridge the day the Royal Guard had brought the sorceress on board.
They had borne orders from the Emperor, and some very odd equipment that they had installed in the large Flag Briefing room. She had not asked its purpose, content in their authority. The sorceress had hung from the hands of two of the guards, seemingly unconscious.
All that had changed in a heartbeat. The woman had exploded into action, producing a lightsaber from nowhere and swinging it with a precision and grace that Lady Alexander had rarely seen in a sword wielder. The display had mesmerized her, and she had stared, fascinated at the pyrotechnics the woman's lightsaber had produced as it sliced through Bridge Panels like they were butter, producing explosions and a quickly-darkened bridge on which only the saber produced any light. This had vanished, and Kit had heard footsteps running for the exit near her.
She had dropped, doing a foot-sweep, and had made a lucky connection. The resulting tussle had only the logic of two people, one unable to see the other, wrestling on a darkened deck. Blows were traded in the dark, and Kit was holding her own when the emergency lights flashed on.
The woman had been pinned to the deck, Kit sitting on top of her. Now she snarled, her hand moving in an open-handed swat that left Kit dizzy and dazed on the deck. She had shoved Kit off her, rising and running for the exit from the bridge.
Rolling on one side, squinting and estimating with her doubled vision, Lady Kristine DeFay Alexander had fired her blaster on stun at the fugitive, and had scored a lucky hit. The woman dropped like a stone. Captain Alexander had followed her into unconsciousness just a few seconds later.
She had been unconscious for a week, suffering vivid dreams in whick she was repeatedly tortured by red-cloaked figures until she screamed in pain. The figures never spoke. She woke in the middle of the night, medics gone from the sickbay area, and dressed in her uniform. Quietly she walked through the deserted back corridors of a ship on night shift. The back corridor doors of the Flag Bridge had parted at her familiar presence, and there - hanging in a Force Cage - she saw the mauled figure of the one who had summoned her.
The sleepwalking state dropped from her. A pampered Imperial Princess, she stared at what the Empire and its Emperor could do, would do, to one of its citizens. She choked, fighting nausea and vomiting. The woman stirred, opening her one remaining eye.
"Help me, PLEASE," came the slurred plea through split lips, forced out of a broken, deformed jaw. "They' c'ose to Breaking me. Please, give me Mercy."
A plea for Mercy was readily understood by Lady Kristine deFay Alexander, heiress of a rich Military tradition. One asked for Mercy when one was no longer a military asset, and was unable to kill theirselves. Her hand automatically dropped to her blaster; and she drew and fired through the heart, unthinking, as she had been trained to do.
Incredibly, the woman retained life for a few more seconds. THe large, smoking hole in her chest was dead-on centered on her heart, as she said, "Thank you, sister. Careful ....." Any further words were drowned in the gush of blood from her lips, and she hung in the cage, a bloody chunk of protein, clearly dead.
Kit turned, choking, and ran out the back door, away from the dead Jedi witch. Away from the woman she had recaptured. Away from the woman who had called her sister, her first Mercy killing.
The search for the killer of the important prisoner had skipped the sickbay, as the only person inside was the Captain, clearly unconscious. She remained so for another three days, awakening only after the Royal Guards and their equipment were gone, and after the body had been reduced to ashes.
Lady Alexander had awakened a quieter person, withdrawn and brooding. Her subordinates assumed it was a residual effect of the concussion she had suffered in the fight. She often walked the ship's hallways at night, unable to sleep, troubled by bad dreams. This gained her a reputation with the ship's crew as a caring, conscientious commander, often appearing at unexpected hours in unexpected places. She did not violate Imperial Military custom by lending a hand, but her quiet presence often inspired the crew members to better efforts that solved problems quicker. Only the ship's Medic, who supplied them, knew she relied on drugs to sleep.
It seemed cruelly ironic, the day the Emperor's commendation for her actions had arrived. Included with it was the dead Jedi's lightsaber, intended as a trophy. She had listened gravely to the Emperor's Envoy, saluted appropriately, and received the award she did not value from an Emperor her heart no longer owed allegiance to.
She did not, however, miss the scanning glance bent her way by the Imperial Envoy, a tall man whose very presence felt cold. Instinctively, she had feared him. She had conveyed him to next destination on the "Empire Dreams", remaining drugged and asleep in her cabin when not on duty on the bridge. He had taken several crew members with him, arrested on unspecified charges. It was with silent relief from the whole ship that they passed his brooding presence on to the next ship. With him gone, the whole ship had felt cleaner and lighter.
She resumed her night walks, not wishing to become totally dependent on the drugs. It was hard, though. She would toss and turn when she tried to sleep, hearing whispers on the verge of becoming voices. She noticed that the voices had become softer, though, with the departure of the Emperor's Envoy. She noticed, and feared her conclusion. There had been Jedi in her family line, back when being a Jedi was not disgraceful and illegal. She preferred her medic's conclusion, that she was beginning to break under the strain of command.
Increasingly, the voices had been louder, had begun to sound like members of her crew. She mentioned this to the Medic, the only crewmember she trusted totally, and had gotten a troubled look while he talked soothingly. He had, she realized later, begun the necessary paperwork for her at that time, suppressing notes on what had really been wrong at the risk of his life.
Her medical retirement for 'stress of command' had occurred three months later. The Medic had warned her that it was coming. The warning had come through a haze of drugs, designed specifically to dampen what she heard in her head, so that she did not react to what she should not know. The crew was sorry to see her go, she realized as she stood on the bridge of "Empire Dreams" for the last time, lacking her usual drugs for the sake of clarity and responsiveness. The crew had worried about her.
On the shuttle home, she had shuddered. If she had read the new ship commander correctly, they had more reason to worry about themselves. His grip, deliberately crushing when they had shaken hands in the ceremony, had conveyed to her that he felt discipline on the ship lax due to having a female commander. She had emphasized the duty of obedience in her departure address, and had felt his cruel anticipation. She prayed for her former shipmates, especially the Medic. He had slipped her a comm disk as she left, telling her to view it privately. Two months later, she had heard he was dead. An accident, she had heard. She had her doubts, as the man had been too decent, and too careful with his spacesuit drill to leave a backup oxygen unit uncharged. He had suffocated, floating in the vacuum, trying to aid a trapped crewmember. It was not a death she was comfortable with. It was at that time she realized that she no longer felt safe in the Empire.
She had been living in a remote cabin on her family's estate on Belsarus. Her parents had not really wanted her at the main house, considering her early retirement disgraceful. Now she took out the comm disk and finally listened to it.
The image of the dead man formed in the holoprojector. "Kit, we never spoke of it directly, but you have Force talents coming to the surface. The drugs I have been giving you are designed to suppress it, but they will not be effective forever. I hope you view this soon. Kit, RUN! Run out of Empire space, unless you want to end up like the Jedi you gave Mercy to." At that point, she had stopped the holoprojector, shocked. How he had known, she did not know. WHY he had shielded her, she also did not know.
Starting the holoprojector again, she listened intently. "I know, because I was in the room. Kit, I'm Jedi. I could not have gotten her free, but I needed to ask her if she wanted death. You gave her Mercy. I erased both of our entry records, and followed you out, and sent you under so that they could not question you. The Inquisitors would have picked you up, as her strike had acted as a catalyst on your latent Talents. I do not know why L'sal di'Ameras did this, she was the precognitive, not I."
He paused, and she switched the holoprojector off again to think. A Jedi? He had always been an unusually good Medic. But didn't all Jedi carry lightsabers? She had inspected his quarters many times as part of shipwide shakedowns, and he had never had anything misplaced, let alone anything as illegal as a lightsaber. Resolving to see the message through, she switched it back on. The image smiled as he said, "It doesn't make sense, right? I've lost track of the times I've heard you say that in briefing. Here's your missing link. Lady Kristine deFay Alexander, I love you. It's dangerous, but I do. I wish you would go and ask the Jedi to train you, but I cannot make you do so." He paused. "The alternate is finding a VERY deserted place to live, away from sentient beings. The drugs I've given you will not work forever - your body will build up a tolerance up to the point where you need to take a lethal amount."
He paused again, and a look of serenity spread over his face. "Kit, I do not think I will see you again. I love you, and wish you well. May the Force be with you. Master J'sun di'Ameras out." A set of Galcen coordinates was briefly displayed, and the recording faded.
All her life, Kit Alexander had been an Imperial. Lady Kristine deFay Alexander, of the military family line of Alexander, had had a brilliant military career. An Honors Graduate of the Imperial Naval Academy, she had risen quickly to the rank of Captain, commanding the Corvette "Empire Dreams". She had been on the bridge the day the Royal Guard had brought the sorceress on board.
They had borne orders from the Emperor, and some very odd equipment that they had installed in the large Flag Briefing room. She had not asked its purpose, content in their authority. The sorceress had hung from the hands of two of the guards, seemingly unconscious.
All that had changed in a heartbeat. The woman had exploded into action, producing a lightsaber from nowhere and swinging it with a precision and grace that Lady Alexander had rarely seen in a sword wielder. The display had mesmerized her, and she had stared, fascinated at the pyrotechnics the woman's lightsaber had produced as it sliced through Bridge Panels like they were butter, producing explosions and a quickly-darkened bridge on which only the saber produced any light. This had vanished, and Kit had heard footsteps running for the exit near her.
She had dropped, doing a foot-sweep, and had made a lucky connection. The resulting tussle had only the logic of two people, one unable to see the other, wrestling on a darkened deck. Blows were traded in the dark, and Kit was holding her own when the emergency lights flashed on.
The woman had been pinned to the deck, Kit sitting on top of her. Now she snarled, her hand moving in an open-handed swat that left Kit dizzy and dazed on the deck. She had shoved Kit off her, rising and running for the exit from the bridge.
Rolling on one side, squinting and estimating with her doubled vision, Lady Kristine DeFay Alexander had fired her blaster on stun at the fugitive, and had scored a lucky hit. The woman dropped like a stone. Captain Alexander had followed her into unconsciousness just a few seconds later.
She had been unconscious for a week, suffering vivid dreams in whick she was repeatedly tortured by red-cloaked figures until she screamed in pain. The figures never spoke. She woke in the middle of the night, medics gone from the sickbay area, and dressed in her uniform. Quietly she walked through the deserted back corridors of a ship on night shift. The back corridor doors of the Flag Bridge had parted at her familiar presence, and there - hanging in a Force Cage - she saw the mauled figure of the one who had summoned her.
The sleepwalking state dropped from her. A pampered Imperial Princess, she stared at what the Empire and its Emperor could do, would do, to one of its citizens. She choked, fighting nausea and vomiting. The woman stirred, opening her one remaining eye.
"Help me, PLEASE," came the slurred plea through split lips, forced out of a broken, deformed jaw. "They' c'ose to Breaking me. Please, give me Mercy."
A plea for Mercy was readily understood by Lady Kristine deFay Alexander, heiress of a rich Military tradition. One asked for Mercy when one was no longer a military asset, and was unable to kill theirselves. Her hand automatically dropped to her blaster; and she drew and fired through the heart, unthinking, as she had been trained to do.
Incredibly, the woman retained life for a few more seconds. THe large, smoking hole in her chest was dead-on centered on her heart, as she said, "Thank you, sister. Careful ....." Any further words were drowned in the gush of blood from her lips, and she hung in the cage, a bloody chunk of protein, clearly dead.
Kit turned, choking, and ran out the back door, away from the dead Jedi witch. Away from the woman she had recaptured. Away from the woman who had called her sister, her first Mercy killing.
The search for the killer of the important prisoner had skipped the sickbay, as the only person inside was the Captain, clearly unconscious. She remained so for another three days, awakening only after the Royal Guards and their equipment were gone, and after the body had been reduced to ashes.
Lady Alexander had awakened a quieter person, withdrawn and brooding. Her subordinates assumed it was a residual effect of the concussion she had suffered in the fight. She often walked the ship's hallways at night, unable to sleep, troubled by bad dreams. This gained her a reputation with the ship's crew as a caring, conscientious commander, often appearing at unexpected hours in unexpected places. She did not violate Imperial Military custom by lending a hand, but her quiet presence often inspired the crew members to better efforts that solved problems quicker. Only the ship's Medic, who supplied them, knew she relied on drugs to sleep.
It seemed cruelly ironic, the day the Emperor's commendation for her actions had arrived. Included with it was the dead Jedi's lightsaber, intended as a trophy. She had listened gravely to the Emperor's Envoy, saluted appropriately, and received the award she did not value from an Emperor her heart no longer owed allegiance to.
She did not, however, miss the scanning glance bent her way by the Imperial Envoy, a tall man whose very presence felt cold. Instinctively, she had feared him. She had conveyed him to next destination on the "Empire Dreams", remaining drugged and asleep in her cabin when not on duty on the bridge. He had taken several crew members with him, arrested on unspecified charges. It was with silent relief from the whole ship that they passed his brooding presence on to the next ship. With him gone, the whole ship had felt cleaner and lighter.
She resumed her night walks, not wishing to become totally dependent on the drugs. It was hard, though. She would toss and turn when she tried to sleep, hearing whispers on the verge of becoming voices. She noticed that the voices had become softer, though, with the departure of the Emperor's Envoy. She noticed, and feared her conclusion. There had been Jedi in her family line, back when being a Jedi was not disgraceful and illegal. She preferred her medic's conclusion, that she was beginning to break under the strain of command.
Increasingly, the voices had been louder, had begun to sound like members of her crew. She mentioned this to the Medic, the only crewmember she trusted totally, and had gotten a troubled look while he talked soothingly. He had, she realized later, begun the necessary paperwork for her at that time, suppressing notes on what had really been wrong at the risk of his life.
Her medical retirement for 'stress of command' had occurred three months later. The Medic had warned her that it was coming. The warning had come through a haze of drugs, designed specifically to dampen what she heard in her head, so that she did not react to what she should not know. The crew was sorry to see her go, she realized as she stood on the bridge of "Empire Dreams" for the last time, lacking her usual drugs for the sake of clarity and responsiveness. The crew had worried about her.
On the shuttle home, she had shuddered. If she had read the new ship commander correctly, they had more reason to worry about themselves. His grip, deliberately crushing when they had shaken hands in the ceremony, had conveyed to her that he felt discipline on the ship lax due to having a female commander. She had emphasized the duty of obedience in her departure address, and had felt his cruel anticipation. She prayed for her former shipmates, especially the Medic. He had slipped her a comm disk as she left, telling her to view it privately. Two months later, she had heard he was dead. An accident, she had heard. She had her doubts, as the man had been too decent, and too careful with his spacesuit drill to leave a backup oxygen unit uncharged. He had suffocated, floating in the vacuum, trying to aid a trapped crewmember. It was not a death she was comfortable with. It was at that time she realized that she no longer felt safe in the Empire.
She had been living in a remote cabin on her family's estate on Belsarus. Her parents had not really wanted her at the main house, considering her early retirement disgraceful. Now she took out the comm disk and finally listened to it.
The image of the dead man formed in the holoprojector. "Kit, we never spoke of it directly, but you have Force talents coming to the surface. The drugs I have been giving you are designed to suppress it, but they will not be effective forever. I hope you view this soon. Kit, RUN! Run out of Empire space, unless you want to end up like the Jedi you gave Mercy to." At that point, she had stopped the holoprojector, shocked. How he had known, she did not know. WHY he had shielded her, she also did not know.
Starting the holoprojector again, she listened intently. "I know, because I was in the room. Kit, I'm Jedi. I could not have gotten her free, but I needed to ask her if she wanted death. You gave her Mercy. I erased both of our entry records, and followed you out, and sent you under so that they could not question you. The Inquisitors would have picked you up, as her strike had acted as a catalyst on your latent Talents. I do not know why L'sal di'Ameras did this, she was the precognitive, not I."
He paused, and she switched the holoprojector off again to think. A Jedi? He had always been an unusually good Medic. But didn't all Jedi carry lightsabers? She had inspected his quarters many times as part of shipwide shakedowns, and he had never had anything misplaced, let alone anything as illegal as a lightsaber. Resolving to see the message through, she switched it back on. The image smiled as he said, "It doesn't make sense, right? I've lost track of the times I've heard you say that in briefing. Here's your missing link. Lady Kristine deFay Alexander, I love you. It's dangerous, but I do. I wish you would go and ask the Jedi to train you, but I cannot make you do so." He paused. "The alternate is finding a VERY deserted place to live, away from sentient beings. The drugs I've given you will not work forever - your body will build up a tolerance up to the point where you need to take a lethal amount."
He paused again, and a look of serenity spread over his face. "Kit, I do not think I will see you again. I love you, and wish you well. May the Force be with you. Master J'sun di'Ameras out." A set of Galcen coordinates was briefly displayed, and the recording faded.