Originally posted 05/27 - 31/2013: /threads/1060-0.htmlBreaking Chains((Note: The below story was created as a lead in to the Demeter event, and thus may seem anticlimactic at the end. Be assured, the bad guys were vanquished, the good guys victorious, and Quarasha won too :D
The first second was written by Aylaa (with Ilireth's permission, of course), and I'm including here because she did such a great job with it, and it sets the rest of it up so well.
Also: Aside from Aylaa's section, this was written by me entirely in 5 days, and to date is probably the most all-out I went for this. If I kept this kind of pace up for a month, I'd probably knock NaNoWriMo out of the park >_>))
Aylaa left Quarasha to the "tender" mercies of the captain and his crew. She'd hopefully spared her any additional indignity. The choice to do so was easy once Quar had shown signs of true fear when faced with the Demeter. It wasn't out of kindness. The fear was not of the men or what they might do to her body, but of the ship, of what it represented and of that lowest of points in the twi'lek's previous life. If the twi'lek wished to survive, this instance as well as among the Sith, that was the fear she needed to conquer.
If Quarasha died, then she was not worthy. If she lived, it was a mark of her own mastery over herself and Aylaa could treat her accordingly. Positioning her in the best place to succeed also indebted her to Aylaa in addition to the part she was already playing. Quarasha wasn't an entirely worthless Sith either - she'd shown some restraint sadly lacking in others. The Empire needed predators, not rabid animals. If only the girl would stop fooling around with the enemy and actually convert or smite one or two rather than just enjoying the titillation. Aylaa didn't care which path so long as one was taken; familiarity bred contempt and playing such games made the whole of the Order look... silly.
Pressing on the captain's mind had been... surprisingly easy though it was likely much sloppier than Ilireth would have done. It had been years since she'd needed to ply tradecraft and though she felt rusty, it was sufficient for this instance. The malleable mind of the captain certainly didn't hurt.
Aylaa continued the swaying walk, certain the eyes of the crew and porters were still on her rear as she exited the cargo bay. She kept up the persona all the way back to her own ship, only dropping it once the door was secure behind her. Rolling her shoulders, she walked more normally up the ramp of her ship.
Ilireth was reading several documents on the couch when she returned. "Done with your mystery errand?" he asked, not looking up.
"You slept in late," Aylaa commented with a smirk. She began stripping off the strappy leather detached sleeves as she walked towards the small bedroom.
"Yes, well someone kept me up la- What
are you wearing?"
Aylaa paused in the doorway. "Hmm?"
She'd applied false tattoo-like paint to her face - it was a common enough practice in the pleasure industry and it made her look not herself. She'd worn red contacts and had foregone her typical jewelry. Her hair was slicked back as well. Oh, she wouldn't have passed if someone had taken biometric readings or there had been another Force user present, but the crew of the Demeter didn't have such things and she'd not exactly had much time to prepare. It sufficed.
Ilireth continued his bemused study of her appearance. "What were you up to?"
Aylaa smirked and slid into the slight persona she'd taken up, tossing in an additional air of seductive excitement through the Force. "Darling, I am Madame Ley'ona. Purveyor of carnal pleasures both mundane and exotic." She struck a little pose.
Ilireth's eyeridges shot up. "Then I am the God of breasts and wine. I demand a display of wares!"
Aylaa snorted a laugh, undid the clasp on the simple band top, and tossed it at his head.
"I sold Quarasha into slavery," she said dropping the act entirely. She entered the small 'fresher connected to the bedroom and removed the contacts.
"I-" he paused and she could hear his footsteps approaching. "I find I am speechless so I am just going to wait for you to explain matters." He eyed her up and down. "Wait and watch."
Aylaa rolled her eyes and began to wipe away the designs on her face with remover. "She asked me to."
"Ah. What is her plot then?"
Aylaa scrubbed at a particularly thick line on her cheek. "I think she means to kill them all and she wanted it to be a surprise."
"Hm. Revenge?"
"I think," Aylaa said as she pulled faces in the mirror, looking for stray bits of makeup, "This might have been the ship she originated from." Satisfied she tossed the washcloth into a hamper for the droids to handle later. "Now that she has power, she intends to pay them for their... care in her formative years," she said, exiting the 'fresher.
Ilireth pulled her to him with an arm around her waist. "And she asked you to sell the fiction," he concluded with a nod. "Interesting."
"Seemed like fun," Aylaa told him with a saucy smile. The implied favors now owed were understood. "I don't think she was expecting me to also dress the part. But it made it easier to mold the mind of the captain since he was already distracted."
Ilireth chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "Indeed, it is rather... distracting."
Aylaa playfully pushed away and sauntered further into the bedroom, selecting a replacement top for the one she'd flung at his head. "Got a good price for her, too," she said, winking at him over her shoulder as she contemplated her wardrobe.
"What does a Sith Lord go for these days?" he asked as he leaned against the doorframe.
"Not a clue, but Maisey the pleasure slave sold for twenty-eight thousand up front with an additional five after sale," Aylaa informed him as she pulled on another top.
Ilireth let out a low whistle. "Not bad. When this venture goes explosive, will whatever owners seek out the money?"
Aylaa shrugged a shoulder. "I wore the outfit to create some deniability, but I'm really not worried," she said. She changed her skirt as well.
"Oh? I can think of a few who'd use that to their advantage in the Game."
"I am not worried because I have the three most important tactical resources."
"I await the list in breathless anticipation, My Darkness."
Aylaa snorted another laugh and gave him a droll look. "Money, the Force and Lawyers."
"Ha!"
Aylaa ran a brush through her hair to loosen the gel she'd used to slick it back. "I'm only keeping half anyway. The other half I'm sending to Quarasha with a block of chocolate and something pretty and far more befitting her station. It was a wildly amusing time." She grinned at him.
He reached over and tugged her closer again. "Maisey?"
"One of the freeholders had a nerf named Maisey when I was growing up."
"A nerf?" He laughed. "You realize she is going to hunt you down if she finds out."
"It's a perfectly good name in this case. That nerf was the meanest, surliest, angriest creature. She trampled anything in her way because she could, and gored two range-riders and a tuk'ata that dared to have the temerity to approach her herd, before she died of extreme old age. She was a fixture on that ranch. The hands used to joke that death itself was too afraid of the old cow and had decided to let her be."
Ilireth shook his head, chuckling. "I forget sometimes that on your world even the prey animals are somewhat... violent."
"Exactly, and thus appropriate for the fiction of a docile twi'lek slave." She paused and added with a slight shrug,"Also it was the first thing I thought of."
"I would still wear the heavier phrik armor when next you meet," he advised. "So. What are your plans for the rest of the day?"
"Once we leave, I have fourteen thousand credits to burn." Aylaa flashed a feral smile as she draped her arms over his shoulders. "I'm going shopping."
Ilireth grinned back. "I will get my coat."
He'll see you make it to your new owner.Aylaa's last words to Quarasha still rattled in her mind. She knew Aylaa was just playing the part, making the sale look real, putting the Captain off his guard, but... well, that was little comfort to the Sith Lord now, naked, wet, unarmed and being leered at by a few of the Demeter's crew. She could see it in their eyes, what they wanted, what she was to them, what they were going to do with her...
...or would have done, if Aylaa hadn't impressed on the captain the value in not damaging the merchandise. Small favors, she supposed, grabbing at the drab clothing the guards threw at her and putting it on with a hurry, trying to please the idiots with
obedience as they led her to the medical ward.
Another bright, clean room. She did what she was told, always what she was told. Stand next to this scanner. Breathe in, breathe out, cough. Look at the light. Open your mouth. Close your mouth. Quarasha tired not to think about it, let herself just be directed around like the puppet she knew they wanted right now.
The guards were lax around her. The two on the door were more interested in the last Huttball match it sounded like. The doctor busy in his work, checking her ov- no, checking the merchandise for flaws. There was no concern in his movements, she might as well have been just a droid for all the difference it made to him.
"
Good vitals, bit higher muscle mass than I'm used to, blood work's good except for the Midichlorian count..."
Quarasha's eyes widened slightly. If he was checking, then he probably thought that the Midichlorian count meant SIth. She was found out. The guards were going to kill her. She had to go on the offensive and kill them all and get to the-
The doctor smirked at Quarasha. He noticed her reaction. Punch to the throat should- "Thinking you'll be set free for that? Don't get your hopes up, you're not going anywhere near Korriban, little Maisey." She caught herself before she could show any relief
"Doc, you done yet? Game's on ten, we gotta to dump her in the hold." That was one of the guards.
The doc chuckled and tapped the console. "Yeah, I'm done here. Why don't you give her a ride first, should give you five minutes to lock her away."
One of the guards grabbed her arm and pulled her off the biobed, the other gesturing his response.
It wasn't a long walk. The guards weren't looking at her, talking about the game, just assuming that the Twi'lek slave in rags wouldn't try to attack two armed guards wearing body armor. Not that them being attentive would stop her.
Grab the combat knife, ram it up into the head, hit the other with lightning and finish him off while he's twitching.She was about to strike when she remembered herself.
No attacking, not yet. Work to do. Have to wait.
They turned into a narrow hallway, then another turn, and another. Hallways that... looked familiar. She knew these. She had been through these long ago, the other way, when she was...
There were other girls, other Twi'leks, just as young as her, being led through the corridors. They were in port, you could tell because the deck stopped shaking. She was so proud when she figured that out, and now she was being led out of the home! Does this mean she was being given to a family? She'd been alone for so long, only the other girls to keep her company in the home. They didn't like her though, they kept saying she was cheating at the games. It wasn't her fault the sticks kept falling her way! Her new family would love her though, she just knew it!Quarasha blinked away the memory, staring at the heavy door. Airlock sealed. The cargo hold was behind it. Her old home.
The slave pit.
There was no ceremony to it, they just opened the door and shoved her in. She stared out into the hold, filled with people, partitions, little fences cobbled together out of junk and trash, a few refresher stations...
...and, on the ceiling and on the floor. Four large circles in the hull. Airlocks. Those open and everyone in the hold dies. She'd die. No more Sasmi, no more power, no more fun, no more anything.
Her eyes narrowed.
Better get to work.
"Hey, newbie, you done starin'?"
Quarasha looked over at the voice, the words heavy with scorn and impatience. "Hey, you got ears, good for you!" she said, a cruel smirk drifting over the Togruta's face. "Now, unless you like being on your hands and knees, hop to it before some asshole gets the wrong idea?"
A week ago, Quarasha would have tossed back an remark at the girl, possibly with a blast of lightning to show the folly of insulting a Sith Lord. But that wouldn't do for the Maisey the Pleasure Slave, so she bit back the sneer and comment and instead just stood, giving a practiced weak smile at the Togruta. "I'm sorry. I just-"
The Togruta rolled her eyes. She wasn't bad looking, of course. The white and red face was a bit jarring on first sight, and she was still young, only a few years younger than Quarasha was when she broke free. But the rags did nothing for her and neither did the sneer that was still on her face. "Yeah, yeah, shut up and I'll give you the grand freaking tour."
Quarasha looked around. The cargo bay was, really, just that. Aside from the food dispensers, freshers and what little privacy partitions the Demeter's crew bothered to give to the slaves, there was really nothing to note about it. Durasteel walls, a high ceiling, and those ever-threatening airlocks. "I think I can find my-"
The Togruta grabbed Quarasha's arm and dragged her along, giving her a briefly puzzled look as Quarasha stumbled after her. "I do this, I might get enough notice to get sold off, so shut up and follow me. You have a name?"
Quarasha bit her lip, keeping her nervous act going. "...Maisey."
Another odd look for the Togruta. "Right. I'm Asori. Bastard that sold me here called me some shit that's got a dozen a's in it, because that's what sounds sexy," she said, sneering briefly.
Quarasha nodded with a slight, genuine smile. "...are you from Shili?" she asked, figuring that a naive slave would figure that all non-humans are from their species' homeworlds.
"Do I sound like one fo those homegrown assholes? Nah, Coruscant."
"...how did you come to be here? Do not tell me that you were taken from the streets there?"
That earned another puzzled look from Asori.
Shit, she's seeing through it. Calm down, you can do this... Quarasha thought to herself as Asori responded. "Nah. We were heading to the outer rim. Folks got a job out there after the sacking and ship got jumped." She narrowed her eyes, and Quarasha could sense the anger simmering off of her. "...bastards. First job they'd gotten in years, and they didn't even..."
Quarasha nodded. This one had promise, at least. Not all the slaves in here were broken yet, and how many more... "...I'm sorry. But... why do you want to get sold? You don't like it here?"
Asori gave Quarasha a big, false smile. "Oh, all of us want to be out there with new owners who will treat us properly and won't ever mistreat us and give us all sorts of wonderful things to do!"
That earned a real smile from Quarasha, although she cursed herself for it, her mind racing.
Crap, Maisey wouldn't smile at that! She'd frown! She likes being a slave, and she can't be so dim as to believe that crap, unless she knew others who thought that way and- "...I've heard that sort of thing before. I'm sure you'll mean in once you meet your new family." she lied smoothly, keeping that stupid, idiotic smile on her face.
At least until Asori glared at her. There was murder in her eyes now, a fierceness- "...you were owned before coming here?" she asked, already knowing the answer. She knew that rage like a good, old friend.
"Yeah. Some Hutt wanted a dancer. I didn't want to dance. Felt more like sprinting. Fifth try I got sold off here. And once I get pawned off on some loser slaver, I'm gonna break loose again, just watch."
Quarasha was about to reply before Asori cut her off. "Question time's over Maisey. Food comes out there, 'freshers are over there, don't spend too long 'round those circles in the ground or they'll open and suck you out into space, all the privacy places got cameras in them 'cause the crew are perverts, and if you tell anyone about what I told you I'll cut you open and don't you dare think I won't try it!"
Asori stormed off when she finished, pushing aside a human twice her size that was in her way, knocking him flat on his ass. For the best, Quarasha considered, because there was no way Quarasha could hide her look of shock to that last sentence.
Not the words, of course. She was used to hearing threats from weaklings. No, it was unfocused, untrained, instinctive, probably only subconscious, but it was still there.
Asori had tried to mind-trick her.
She had the Force.
Quarasha, Age 8It was difficult for Quarasha, standing still on the stage, smiling, and not gaping at the sights around her.
She'd never seen this part of the ship before. Home was so much simpler, but this room was just... weird. There were chairs on the deck in front of the stage, red and brown and looking incredibly soft and comfy. She knew better than to ask the crewmen if she could take one back home so she could sleep in it, but she still wanted to. The deck back in the home was so hard, her lekkies sometimes got caught under her when she rolled around and they hurt and woke her up.
The crewman on the stage with her cleared his throat, banishing her thoughts. She must have slouched. She knows not to slouch, if she slouches than the new family won't like her, won't take her to the new home and won't love her. All the adults back home talked about how great it was to get a new family, and there was a visitor here, a young human not much older than her! She knew that she'd make a great sister for the visitor!
She didn't understand, though. Why were there these other girls here? A human, a Catty, a Zabry and Quarasha were all on the stage, and the visitor was looking over all four of them for some reason...
The visitor got to Quarasha and leaned close, squinting at her clothing. It was weird clothes. Quarasha liked the loose stuff back in home more. She knew the visitor would take her if she was wearing that better clothing, not this weird, tiny shirt and skirt. It just looked silly on her, much worse than the normal shirt and skirt.
"What's those things on your head?" The visitor was talking to her! Quarasha looked up at the crewman, who nodded slightly. She could talk back to her too!
Quarasha grinned at her. "They're my lekky. They're like hair, but I can move them around!"
The girl grimaced. "Eew. That's gross! And why are they all stripey?"
Quarasha blinked. "Because? I like them stripey!" The crewman cleared his throat again, but why shouldn't Quarasha defend her lekky? She liked them!
The girl stuck her tongue out at Quarasha, yanking on one of her lekkies, and it really hurt! "They're stupid! I don't want you!" she said, still yanking on them.
Quarasha knew she wasn't supposed to touch the visitors. It would make them and the crewmen mad, and you might not get a family. But the visitor was hurting her! She wanted her to stop! She'd just push her a little-
"You break it, you bought it," the crewman said in a rush, and the visitor let go of Quarasha's lekku, and she quickly reached for it, cradling it in her arms. Why did the crewman say that? It didn't make sense. But at least the visitor let go.
Still, it made Quarasha sad when the Catty went off with the visitor. Quarasha knew that she'd be a much better sister than some dumb Catty! She'd be the best new family member ever, they'd see!
Present, Day 2 aboard the DemeterThis was one of the hardest decisions Quarasha needed to make in some time.
On one hand, she needed to keep her strength up. She'd only managed to disable one of the airlocks thus far, and there had been no reaction from the guards or crew, so she was safe to work on the other seven, and four of them would require a lot of climbing. And she needed to keep looking like the dutiful, passive, trustworthy slavegirl.
On the other, calling the slop she was given food was an insult to food.
And field rations.
And garbage, for that matter.
Quarasha sighed and shoveled another handful of the pap into her mouth, making a silent vow to binge on chocolate once this was all done. At least the sights were... something.
A half-dozen girls were playing... some sort of game, with brightly colored rods that they would toss up and run around...
She smirked slightly. She could barely remember the rules from the bad old days, and either her memory was completely wrong, or they were playing a completely different game. Assuming there were any rules at all, because every five minutes they'd stop running and tossing the rods and start arguing about one thing or another and how the red rod can't touch the green rod and you have to pick up the blue one if you were closest to the yellow, but if the purple one was touching either the red or the blue then you had to sit out until the black rod touched the orange and Quarasha was pretty sure that they were just making this up as they went along.
A surreptitious glance caught more than a few other faces watching the game. She couldn't blame them, really. It was almost... innocent, how they were acting. Like they were normal kids, or at least the kids from holo's. No doubt no one had told them what they were really doing here. What they were to the crew, to the 'visitors', to the customers, to the galaxy...
Most of the other slaves were leaving her alone, though. None of the men were making any advances, or 'advances', which left Quarasha a touch conflicted, at least until one of the women explained that the crew would punish any slaves that caused any problems, and reward anyone that helped keep order. She even heard a few rumors that, if you acted good enough, you might even be set free, or given a job on the ship.
It took all of Quarasha's self control not to laugh at that notion.
A soft cough broke her concentration, and she looked up into the carefully blank expression of Asori. "...yes?"
Asori sat down next to Quarasha, keeping her voice low. "...what are you, Maissy?"
"...I... what do you mean?" she asked, looking confused. She'd been keeping an eye out for the Togruta, who seemed to be doing the same. The girl had potential, and it was a wonder the Jedi never found her. But she was also a threat, and couldn't be trusted. If Asori sold her out to the crew, then the whole plan would fall apart.
"Cut the crap. Your 'I'm a good little slave' act is too good, and you keep looking around. You might've fooled the idiots here, but not me."
Still, Quarasha was finding it difficult not to like the brashness. "I don't know what you think I am, but-"
Maisey whispered, just barely audible. "...you want me to tell on you, J?", earning a confused look. "J. They listen for some words. What starts with J?"
Somehow, Quarasha's lips only briefly twitched, once she realized it. J. Jedi. Asori thought she was a Jedi... "...I'm not a- one of those."
"You don't think I'll tell? They might release me if I rat you out and I'm right. Especially if you're doing something here."
The warmth and innocence fled from Quarasha's face, a steel gaze replacing it. "Do you really believe that."
Asori blinked. It wasn't just a suspicion she had, Quarasha realized. It was hope. Asori was hoping that Quarasha was really a Jedi, really here to save them all, to set her free. That one look of hope, of pleading, on her face... Quarasha knew, Asori wasn't going to turn her in. She wanted to help.
"...yes... no... I don't know. You hear-"
Quarasha cut her off. "You hear precisely what they want you to hear," slipping into her more natural Imperial accept, her voice still soft, the laughing cheers of the children at play drowning her out to all but Asori.
"...I want to help."
"I don't need it." Quarasha didn't really. She needed Asori quiet. She knew far too well how an excitable, untrained assistant could mess up a risky plan.
Asori didn't seem to care, though, judging by the eagerness that wasn't leaving her face. "Please. You can't... do this alone. Let me help. I'll watch out for you, make sure no one else will turn you in or anything!" Asori grinned, getting up and bounding off before Quarasha could say another word, leaving the Sith Lord just sitting there, stunned once again by Asori.
Force? This is Quarasha. I hate you. Thought you should know...
Elsewhere on the Demeter...Corporal Peln frowned at his screen, staring at the image of the Demeter's newest slave, Maisey.
Captain Levin said that there was nothing unusual about her. Chief Rhodes only shrugged when Peln asked about her, muttering something about the hold being secure, and some of the other guards were just joking that she was an ex-girlfriend of his.
Peln shook his head, carefully examining the face on the screen. She was... familiar. Maybe it was just the tattoos. Or the skin tone. Or her expression. Or... something...
Whatever it was, Peln didn't work his way out of the home by not being thorough. Maisey would get special attention during his round of monitoring. If she was up to something, it was going to be his job to stop her before the idiot slave got the entire stock killed.
Quarasha, Age 9Quarasha was sad to be home again. She'd been there for a long time already, and there weren't many other children her age here. Sometimes new ones would arrive for a few weeks, and then they'd get their new families, usually getting picked over her. It wasn't fair, she'd been here forever and no one wanted her! Mommy and Daddy said that there'd be lots of great families that would want her and take care of her, but... maybe it was something wrong with her?
She made a beeline towards her favorite spot, a little corner of the home made by one of the big walls and one of the little ones, plopping down in an indignant little heap. Maybe they just didn't like her lekki- lekku? Or maybe it was the stripes? Or maybe she was just too little. She tried to be friendly, always smiling at the visitors and trying to be cheerful, but they didn't want her.
"Hey, Quar, you alright?"
Quarasha looked up and smiled up at Peln, reaching for one of the plates of food he had brought her. "Yeah, I'm okay. I just didn't get picked again."
Peln rubbed her head, smiling and sliding down next to Quarasha. "Yeah, I noticed. Still, at least you've got me?" he said, putting on the cheesiest smile he could, earning a giggle from the young Twi'lek.
Peln was only a few years older than her, and nice for a human, although his hair always looked weird. He'd look much better with lekku instead, but Quarasha still liked him. He was one of the only kids that was nice to her, never yelled at her about anything and always gave her a hug when one of the other kids pulled her lekku. "When do you think you'll get a new family, Pely?"
Peln's face went... weird for a second. She didn't really understand why, Peln was really nice and should get a great new family, but maybe no one wanted boy humans, like they never seemed to want girl Twi'leks? "I dunno. Sometime? I'm not in any hurry to leave you here alone."
She leaned over to give him a little, one-armed hug, almost spilling her food onto his pants. "Thanks, Pely. So, any new gossip...?" she grinned. Peln was great at hearing what was going on here at home. There were always new people coming and going after all, and out of seven hundred people there had to be something interesting happening!
He grinned, settling in and lowering his voice to the perfect tone for gossip. "...well, Zell was caught kissing Tolnar, and that made Vostran really mad. There was almost a fight here-"
"And I missed it?" she asked, pouting at the older boy.
"Tell you what, Quar," he said, grinning. "Next time there's a fight, I'll ask them to hold it until you get back." After Quarasha finished laughing, he went on, detailing the little things that were happening, some people cheating at Sticks, little relationship spouts, arguments and rows and little pranks getting played on people getting so into the gossip that he forgot his audience, ending with, "...and Bolsen was talking about how he'll attack the next bunch of visitors that come look at him."
Quarasha cocked her head. "Why? Doesn't he want a new family?"
Peln gaped. He didn't want Quarasha to know about... about all this yet. She was still young, still a kid, she couldn't understand it all yet... "...uh, he's just... mad that it's taking so long," he lied, knowing that Quarasha would never doubt a word he said.
"...well, then someone should help him! Or... warn the crew, maybe? So that the nice visitors don't get hurt?"
Peln nodded numbly. The thought had occurred to him, and people were always talking about how you got extra favors if you kept the peace, and it wouldn't help anyone if they started hurting the buyers... "...that's a good idea, Quar. But don't talk about it? Ol' Bolsen might not understand, you know?"
She nodded cheerfully, grinning and then covering her mouth, zipping it up. She was glad that Peln was going to help Bolsen and the visitors. He'd make sure no one would get hurt.
Present, Day 3 aboard the DemeterHold the pose, don't think about it, just don't look too appealing, you'll be fine...It wasn't an unfamiliar pose, not in the least. A carefully practiced, seductive pose in the dancer's usual uniform and an inviting smile on her face, the universal image of an eager slave just waiting for a good, nice master. Just the image she needed to take, just the image everyone expected of her, just the image that disgusted her to the depths of her soul, and just the image that would appeal the the loathesome monsters that would desire.
She wasn't alone, thankfully. Four others were on the stage with her, the familiar one, albeit probably retouched, refinished and possibly replaced over the years, four other Twi'leks around her age, similar build, similar height, but different colors. She just needed to make sure one of the other slaves were chosen, just not her, any of them would do except her. And he seemed interested in one of the other ones, running his hand down her lekku to hear the-
Focus on something else, anything else, that... that Prime Minister you cut up and executed. Her heart sped up slightly, her smiling growing slightly more feral, more intimidating...
...at least until "...ooooh, I like ones with a bit of spine..." came from the buyer. Her smile froze breath quickening slightly, until she realized he wasn't looking at her.
Lucky. Something else, the bracelet? The bracelet and the stash! When the buyer got to Quarasha, there was a touch of sorrow in her eyes, her smile softer and gentler than anything. She didn't flinch when he reached for her jaw, turning her head left and right, keeping a critical eye on her features. She didn't notice when he stroked her skin, circled around her, or even when he leaned in for a sniff, her thoughts were far off, focused on her most prized treasure, a happier, safer, more comfortable, more l-
The crewman clapped his hands sharply, and Quarasha looked to the door, seeing the buyer departing with a blue Twi'lek following. Trel-something. She had seen that one around the hold, clearly one of the broken ones, willing to do whatever the good master wanted, no matter what that was.
Good. Better one that had been broken already. There's nothing anyone could do about them, best to just let it be, she had another seven hundred to save already...
It was halfway back to the dressing rooms that she decided to at least make an effort to find her. She caught the name "Mr. Mirnor" from the crewman, should make it simple enough to find him if they recover the ship logs.
At the very least he deserves a few thousand volts of Sith punishment for the way he touched me... she thought, suppressing a shiver as she changed out of the dancer's garments and into something that actually covered skin. Still, at least nothing had gone wrong. The buyer picked someone else, and if anyone noticed anything out of character for Maisey, than they didn't-
"Hey, Rye, you in a hurry?"
Quarasha looked over at the guard and the... oddly familiar voice. Another one of the guards here, judging by the blaster on his hip. A human man, not bad looking, but not exactly Quarasha's type either, even discounting the 'vile slaver aspect'. Something about those eyes.
"Not really. Something up?" Rye responded to the newcomer, who shrugged.
"Just want a word with the yellow one. Give me five?" Rye waved him over, giving Quarasha a suspicious look and raising up that dread once again in the Sith.
Asori must have sold me out, that vile little- She smiled softly, looking down at the deck plating.
"You're Maisey, right?" he asked, earning a soft nod from the weak, pitiful little slave-girl, or at least that's what Quarasha was hoping he saw. "Have you been on this ship before?"
Quarasha almost shook her head before realizing the trap. What has she seen, but a few spartan hallways, a generic medical room, a cargo hold and a showroom? She was acting too good to be new to these ships, and a slave wouldn't know any ship registries, would she? Or would she just assume that they're all different, even if she's been on them before?
She glanced up at the guard, pointing at her mouth. At his nod, she answered, in her softest voice. "...I do not think so."
"You don't think so?" he asked, frowning.
"The rooms feel different, sir, but they always do. I do not know."
The guard started to look over her, and Quarasha was briefly thankful that most of her skin was covered. Sasmi had healed the worst of her... distinguishing characteristics, but there still might be more there, still might need to worry about being recognized. Still, in the end he nodded, still frowning to himself. "I hope you've been behaving, Maisey."
"Yes sir," she said, grateful that he was moving to simpler-
The slap caught her by surprise, a solid blow across her face, knocking her into the lockers and forcing Maisey to clutch against the them, protecting herself, not wanting another strike, not wanting to be hurt again. "You're not to speak without permission, slave. Get back in line."
Maisey nodded quickly, hustling back to the other slaves, breathing slowly, not understanding why the guard had struck her like that, she had permission-
It took a few steps before Quarasha came back to herself. And it wasn't until she reached the hold again that she truly understood what just happened.
She had failed.
A few hours later...Quarasha stared up at the ceiling, focusing on the two airlocks she hadn't disabled yet. Her arms weren't exactly pain-free after last night's climbing adventure, but it had proven simple enough: Cloak yourself from sight with the Force while in a camera blindspot, climb up the rungs to the ceiling, and then the rungs along the ceiling, unlatch and slide open a panel with the Force and deliver a few hundred volts to the control mechanism. Do it right and the airlock will jam in place when the open command is given, and after five more get disabled, the slavers would lose their leverage.
Simple. Assuming nothing goes-Quarasha sighed. She was learning not to finish those thoughts. The moment you do someone comes up and throws a-
Asori sat down, glaring at Quarasha. "Not mad, act."
Quarasha sighed, and hung her head, not entirely for show. "...what do you want now?"
"I've been listening. You're good so far, no one's gossiping about you."
"...splendid."
The Togruta kept her glare going, but there was a very quick little smirk behind it. "And I have good news. There's others that will help."
She winced, this time not at all for show. "...you told-"
"I didn't tell anyone anything. I'm not an idiot."
"...you're sure about that?"
Asori went on, ignoring the comment. "I know the ones here that would help if they know, that's what I mean."
The Sith Lord sighed, bracing for the bad news. "And how many is that."
"Twenty. More if it starts going well. We don't want to be broken people."
"...we're all broken, Asori. You, me, the children. This breaks us all, it's only a matter of how much."
Asori sat there, staring at Quarasha, the statement clearly not being what she expected in the least. "You're giving-"
"No. I will let you know if I need you." She raised her head, gazing at the young woman. "But do nothing until then. Understood? You might ruin everything if you do."
"Right. Slap coming."
What? Sla-Asori reared her hand back and lashed out, but Quarasha was quicker this time, wrapping her arms around her head, deflecting the blow, dimly aware of Asori yelling about 'Baisey' making eyes at some boy or another. It was a few moments before she felt safe to sit up, looking around in puzzlement, and laughing on the inside at the brash young girl with the sharp, if cliched, mind.
Present, Day 4 aboard the DemeterCaptain Levin smiled when the door to his office opened, revealing the overeager Corporal Peln. You could cut steel with the sharpness of the salute the young man snapped off, always something Levin liked to see in the subordinates, particularly the ones that were from the pit. He'd taken no small amount of risk in offering Peln the contract, a year of indentured servitude in exchange for his services rendered in keeping the cargo in line, but the lad showed his ability, both during that year and the four that followed. Set a slave to catch a slave, as it were...
"Sir. Permission to speak freely?" Peln said, keeping his eyes locked on the wall above Peln's head. Levin smiled at him and nodded. Nothing taught discipline like the slave pit. "I think something's going to happen soon."
"Something?" Levin asked, smirking. "I don't suppose you could be more specific?"
"No sir."
"No?" He frowned, giving Peln a searching look. "If this is your idea of hedging your bets, Corporal..."
"It's not that, sir. I just... have a feeling," Peln said, shifting uncomfortably, not meeting Levin's eyes. "I wish I could explain, but-"
"Is this about that slave you beat, Peln?"
"I didn't-"
"Rye said that you threw her into one of the dressing room lockers. I can't have that on my ship, Corporal. I'm hoping for sixty thousand from that one, and if you had injured her I'd be most... displeased."
Now Peln looked bashful. "I wasn't expecting her to react like that. Something's been bugging me about her, but..." He seemed to be struggling to explain, but stopped, seeing the captain stand.
"What were you expecting her to do when slapped?" he asked, an even, calm, encouraging tone. He wasn't thrilled with the corporal's actions, but he still deserved the benefit of the doubt. For now, at least.
"To catch the slap, or back away, or something other than just get hit by it..."
Ahhh... "You don't think she's REALLY a slave?"
"I... I thought that. Now I'm not sure."
"But you're sure something's happening?"
Peln nodded. "Some of the borderline rebellious ones are acting differently. Standing, walking, eating differently. Like they have a sort of hope or... something."
Levin leaned forward, flipping on his monitor and selecting the cargo hold's main camera. He'd been doing this a long time, and seen a few riots on the cargo hold. He knew what to look for, lots of gathering crowds, the children being kept out of the main areas, people staring at the fasteners on the wall. None of that, at least not yet. He noticed a few known troublemakers, though. The Togruta was staying on the move, looking at people and glancing at the cameras. The Cathar was sittting next to... that new Twi'lek.
After a few minutes of watching, Levin spoke up. "Any keyword hits on the eavesdropper?"
Peln shook his head. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing from the usual suspects at all, minor, coincidental hits from the others."
Troubling. But the Cathar was a softie, he could just be comforting the new guest, and the Togruta was always doing this... "...thank you for the information, Corporal. I hope you won't be offended if I hope you're wrong?"
Corporal Peln nodded crisply, smiling with relief. "Of course, sir. I hope I'm wrong too, I don't want them to get killed."
"And that's what makes you a good security officer, Peln. You care about their safety, and I only wish I have five more like you. Dismissed."
Peln snapped off another eager salute and departed, leaving a bemused Captain Levin. It was adorable how easy it was to manipulate the former slaves from the hold...
In the cargo hold..."...it's hardly as though it was the only time I've been in that situation. But it's something that I've had to struggle with for a long time, and... I failed again."
She looked up at the Cathar, who nodded, gazing encouraging at her, earning a smile from Quarasha.
"I don't want to keep being like that. Perhaps it was simply that I had to keep things going, and it was instinct to act that way..."
The Cathar shook his head, and she knew he was right. She was lying to herself, nothing more.
She smiled weakly at him and nodded, adding "...I suppose you're wondering why?" He just shrugged, then nodded. "The first thing I learned out there. Power untested is only a lie we tell ourselves. We must test ourselves to know where we stand. To know what we must defeat. And now I know... that I am not beyond this."
The Cathar smiled again at her, and wrapped his arms around her, gently squeezing the Sith and nearly getting a blast of electricity for his trouble. "...I don't like being touched..." she said, muffled by the man's chest, and she didn't bother to hide her smile when he let go of her. "Thank you... you don't talk much, do you?"
He shrugged, then opened his mouth, revealing a stump of a tongue in his mouth. "...ah. Point taken," she said, grimacing at the sight. "At least you're a good listener?"
Asori strolled up, grinning at the Cathar's rather expressive gesture. "Bolin isn't bothering you, right, Maisey?"
Quarasha shook her head, gesturing to the wall. "Have a seat."
"Thanks..." she said, nodding to Bolin, who sprung up and walked off. "...you sure you're not J?"
Quarasha blinked at the Togruta. "...that's a rather personal question..."
"No, no, the letter?"
"Oh. Yes, I'm rather certain of that."
"So..."
She looked over at the Togruta. The girl was eager, cunning, brave and possessing great potential. Perhaps she deserved... "By your terms, I'm an S."
"...you haven't been that mean," pondered Asori, cocking her head.
"...the letter."
"Oh... oh." She blinked at Quarasha, the familiar taste of fear coming off her. "Oh! Uh... oh..."
Quarasha fought the urge to smirk. Truly amazing how powerful that word was. "Do not worry, I'm not here for you. I'm here for them."
"But the-" she said, before clamping her mouth shut, eyes glancing at the ceiling, and thus the airlocks.
"Will be taken care of."
"...right..." Asori just sat there, staring out into space. Quarasha knew that look, the 'try not to offend the Sith Lord that's a foot away from me and helping me' look. Might as well break a few misconceptions...
"It's not about all that, you know. Being an S is about strength. Will. Becoming more than you are."
"...but.. why are you here?"
Quarasha looked at Asori, drawing in the girl's eyes. "Because I was here once. Like you once. Then I become something more, because I had always been something more. It simply took time to realize it."
"You were here? And... like me?"
The Sith Lord smiled at the young Togruta. "I was somewhat younger then. But potential is potential. And you have it."
"...potential?"
"You have not noticed? Your instincts, your persuasiveness, your will? They are the mark of what you could be. An S."
By Quarasha's eye, Asori was simply overwhelmed by this. She thought she was one thing, and now... now she knows what else she could become. It took her some time before she came to a decision, but Quarasha knew the moment it happened. The anger that was always inside her hardened into something... more. "...teach me."
"Soon."
The Togruta nodded and stood, walking off.
Quarasha nodded to herself and closed her eyes. It was almost time to end this charade. She could disable the last of the airlocks tonight, take away the last resort that the Demeter had, opening the doors for her allies to attack. Only figuratively speaking, sadly.
...and it meant that, even if for only a brief moment, she could contact her beloved.
Tomorrow, she shouted out to Sasmi, through the Force, putting all her will into making this one word reach her.
It would be a wonderful day.
Quarasha, Age 9Quarasha was glad that she wasn't in the tiny, ugly clothing now, although she was wondering why the crewmen always had her in that clothing when meeting visitors, and not this stuff. It wasn't baggy like her Home clothing, but it was nice and snug and warm and even looked good! And she was alone this time, there wouldn't be any Zabrys or Cattys to distract visitors from her! Maybe someone just knew she would be a great addition to her family!
The door to the showy-room slid open, and there was the security chief there, Levy she thought he was called, talking to a visitor. Another human, and kinda fat this time. Still, Quarasha smiled and gave a little wave, like the crewman told her to. She always made sure to follow their instructions, they wanted her to find a new family just as much as she did!
The fat man smiled at her. "Is this the delightful little Quarasha?"
Levy smiled and nodded. "That she is. She's been looking forward to meeting someone that will take care of her."
Quarasha nodded quickly.
Too quickly, dummy! They don't want you to look too eager! She stopped, giggling bashfully and looking away.
"Now now," the visitor said, his smile widening, "No need for that. My name is Rhyven Calder, but I prefer to be called Master Calder by sweet little girls like you."
Quarasha smiled at him, nodding. "Okay, Master Calder."
Levy looked a little... weird, and Quarasha cocked her head at him, and so did Master Calder. "...is something wrong?" he asked, frowning at Levy.
He shook his head at him. "No, just... we have some older Twi'leks here as well..."
Master Calder laughed at Levy, and apparently missing Quarasha's quick glare. Here was someone that wanted her, and Levy was trying to get someone else to join Master Calder's family? How dare he! "No, no, you don't understand. I like having young girls around to do little tasks here and there, Chief Levin. I'm sure she'll... grow into other roles, as befits a sweet young girl, but I'm not that sort!"
Levy seemed to relax at that and nodded, tapping on that block he was holding. "...sorry, sir. I didn't mean to judge. We've received the five thousand, and you're cleared for departure. It's been a pleasure, sir."
Master Calder smiled and walked over to Quarasha. "Come with me, child. A grand future for you awaits."
Quarasha smiled, the happiest she'd ever been and took his hand. "Levy, can you say goodbye to Peln for me?"
Levy smiled very briefly. "...of course. Goodbye, Quarasha."
"Goodbye Levy!" she exclaimed, giggling, following Master Calder to the new life that awaited her...
