Disclaimer: All names, places, and characters belong to Star Wars: Knights of the OldRepublic belongs to Lucas Arts. The original plot of this story, as well as the original characters Kerry Crowly, Ria’sun and Dee’sun belong to me.
Summary: The deed had been done. Unfeeling,, restless, Mission lay awake in her bunk. She couldn’t sleep, and she couldn’t let this be. She couldn’t live like this. She had to do something, anything. Mission. Warnings: Violence, rape.
XX
The rancid stench was foul, filling up the Twi’lek’s pores, filling her nasal cavity and pouring down her throat, threatening to drown her with its intoxicating filth. Suffice it to say, the spilled entrails of a murdered Hutt did not present a pleasant aroma.
Mission Vao visibly cringed, resisting the urge to pinch her nose as she spoke. “Okay,” she said in a level tone, “he’s dead. Can we get out of here now?” The human beside her allowed himself the liberty of a smirk at the young alien’s impatience.
“Eager to get back?” He asked.
“Not particularly, but the sooner we get to the ship, the sooner I can say goodbye to this planet for good.”
“Fine, I’m done here. I got what I came for. What about you? I take it you’ve come to a decision?”
“I said I wanted to leave the planet, didn’t I? We all set out to save Bastila and defeat Malak. I’m still gonna keep that promise. We have the location of the Star Forge now. I’ll stay with you until we destroy it, but that’s it. Then we go our separate ways.”
“That’s very mature of you, Mission. However, it raises the question…”
“What?”
“Zaalbar has sworn a life-debt to me.” Mission’s eyes widened in realization of the fact. She knew where this was going. “He cannot go back on it. You only decided to tag along because of him. Will you now abandon him?”
“I…”
“After this is over, Zaalbar will remain by my side. What will you do?” Mission sighed, her head bowed. When she spoke, her tone was dead, dejected, defeated.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
The human stepped forward, leaving Mission to follow at her discretion. His footsteps rang forcefully in the silent chamber, echoing like explosions in the hull of a star cruiser. As he walked swiftly to the chamber’s exit, a certain sight must have caught his eye, and smirking, he came to stop before the cowering yellow form. Mission quickly moved to join him. Looking down at the body, she knew only that she did not recognize this alien. She was probably one of the dancers.
“And which one is this?” Revan asked. Looking up at him, the dancer’s brown eyes filled to the brim with fear, she spoke.
“R-r-ee’sun,” her voice tremored, choking on her own words.
“Ree… you have a choice to make.”
“A choice?”
“Will you accompany me on my ship, or will your remains be buried here in the sand, lost for eternity?” Ree turned away, her eyes closed. For a long moment, the sun kissed Twi’lek was silent. Turning back to face her captor, she looked him in the eye, sincerity gracing her. She swallowed hard before opening her mouth to speak.
“I… I am yours, Master.”
“A wise decision,” Revan sneered.
“As if she had a choice. Another slave, Revan?” Mission asked, having crossed the large, dead chamber to stand close behind the human.
“She may be of use to me. One can never be too sure.”
“I’ll bet,” Mission replied, noting the fact that the human didn’t bother to deny her implication of him perceiving his comrades as servants. He truly saw them all as expendable. All of them. Any one of them could die and he wouldn’t bat an eyelash. He wouldn’t care. Even Bastila, who had sacrificed her very life for the mission. Revan seemed totally apathetic. Even with the coordinates to the Star Forge revealed, he seemed to be in no hurry.
Revan was more interested in acquiring financial wealth and physical gratification than saving the life of a companion, even one as important or powerful as Bastila, even one as close as those two had gotten over the course of the mission.
Mission wouldn’t voice these thoughts. She knew better than to bring this up here and now of all places, of all times.
Not another word was spoken, and quietly, silently, the trio made their way down the dimly lit corridors to the Palace entrance. There was nothing more to be said. There was nothing more to be done. Revan had what he’d come for. He’d received compensation for Motta’s greed. And in her case, Mission had lost something she’d never get back. She’d lost a part of herself, a part of her being. Nothing could replace it, and without it, she would never be the same.
X
As she lay in the occupied bunk, she couldn’t help the thoughts resurfacing. Revan had moved on. Bastila had risked her life to save them, so that they could get away, so that they could complete the mission.
Mission hadn’t been there, but Carth had told them all about it. Malak would likely keep Bastila alive, but that didn’t put the young Jedi out of danger. The risk of the dark side was closing in on her, just as it had closed in on Revan, as it had changed him, turned him into someone else. Turned him into a monster, a Sith.
Revan had been affected by the loss at first. He had felt responsible. It was understandable. To find out that he was once the Lord of the Sith was so much to take in. But on top of that, to have Bastila thrust herself blade-first at the current dark lord as nothing more than a distraction… it was no wonder he’d shut himself away during the journey to Tatooine.
That was a long time ago. Months ago. Who knew what condition Bastila was now in? And Revan? What of him? Did he even care? He had moved on, like a grieving lover accepts and moves on from the death of their partner. Was Bastila dead to him? Was she dead to the universe? Was their bond still intact? Mission didn’t know. The Aqua tinted Twi’lek hadn’t even the faintest of an idea.
Tensing her muscles, the girl placed her arm tightly around the hulking mass of her furry friend. The warmth of his body, and the feel of his fur, harsh, yet soft at the same time, the Twi’lek found them strangely soothing, as she did the gentle sound of his breathing, his gruff snoring. Some may have found it distracting, but Mission was used to it. The pair had shared a tiny apartment for years, after all. After all their time together on Taris, Mission had grown used to the noises of the Sleeping Wookee. She’d begun to draw comfort from them. To rely on them even.
Snuggling up to her large, furry friend, the young alien released a lungful of air.
Their return to the ship was not something that Mission had been looking forward to. The members of the Ebon Hawk’s crew. Would they approach her? Would they notice anything out of place? Would they notice anything different about her? Or would they think nothing of it? Which outcome would be worse? Mission didn’t know.
After everything Mission had gone through, surely the past day would have changed her. She’d lost a friend, and a brother. Well, maybe she’d lost Griff long ago. Mission would have been surprised if she hadn’t changed, at least a little. She was dreading the crew’s reaction. She wanted to be left alone. She needed time to herself. She wanted time. She wanted solitude.
Their return wasn’t nearly as memorable as their time outside the walls of anchorhead, but that didn’t make it any more enjoyable.
X
“You’re back, finally!” Carth announced as the four of them entered the spaceport.
“Have you been standing on that spot this whole time?” Revan asked. Strange as it seemed, Carth was in the exact same place he had been the last time the two had spoken.
“No, of course not,” Carth replied, “I just… hold on, who’s this?” he asked, catching sight of the yellow Twi’lek in their group.
“A new addition to the crew, right Revan?” Mission stated.
“Right,” Revan confirmed.
“You always end up having crazy adventures when you go out… I don’t know how you do it. So what’s your story?” the soldier asked, turning his attention to the late entry.
“We’ll discuss that later,” Revan interjected. “For now, it is best that we leave as soon as possible.”
“Uh oh,” he replied. “I guess I should have seen this coming. What have you done this time?”
“Let’s not discuss it here.”
“Well, I saw that coming,” the veteran mumbled. “Okay, let’s go!” With that; Carth, Revan, HK-47, Mission, and Ree all quietly boarded the Ebon Hawk, walking up the loading ramp one after the other in orderly single file.
It wasn’t long after that until the ramp was raised and the Ebon hawk was projected straight up into the sky.
As the crew gathered around, Carth locked in the hyperspace coordinates, the fruit of their labour thus far, and they were soon zooming through space at hyperspeed. Soon, everything they had worked for would be paying off. The Star Forge was finally within their grasp.
X
They were on their way. There was not much to do as they traveled through hyperspace, and as Mission knew it would, as much as she’d been dreading it, the inevitable happened.
X
“Hey, Mission,” the Republic veteran called out, catching the Twi’lek’s attention, catching her off guard as she made her way to her quarters. Looking about her, she saw that no one else was around. It was just the two of them. Just she and Carth. Sighing, she approached him. She had to get this over with.
“What is it?” She asked him.
“Can we talk?”
“Aren’t we talking now?” the Twi’lek spoke as vague and criptically as she possibly could, making sure to be aloof and not give anything away. Mission didn’t want or need the crew talking about her like some helpless kid.
“I mean in private.”
“There’s nobody around,” the blue skinned Twi’lek argued, looking left, right, and even behind her as if to prove the point, until she noticed that Carth wasn’t in the mood to negotiate. “Fine,” she begrudgingly agreed. “Lead the way.” She followed the soldier as he led her away from the safety and comfort of her bunk. She knew what this was about. This was what she’d been expecting. This was what she’d been dreading, but still, she needed to ask. It was a compulsion from within. “Is this… is this about what happened on Tatooine?”
“It is.”
“Called it,” the fourteen year old mumbled humorlessly.
They came to a halt in a deadly quiet room filled with containers.
“The cargo hold?” Mission skeptically asked.
“This is a good enough place for a private conversation. This is where Revan and Bastila came when they wanted to be alone.”
“Yeah. Too bad the entire crew found out about that,” Mission remarked somewhat bitterly. How was she supposed to trust a room like this to keep a secret when it had so blatantly failed to do such in the past?
“That was different,” Carth insisted.
“How?”
“Because, everyone… hey! Don’t go changing the subject. I’m asking the questions here.”
“Fine, whatever, ask what you want, then leave me alone!”
“What happened to you?” Mission’s eyes closed.
“If that’s what you wanted to ask me, you’re wasting your time.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. I know what actually happened.” Mission froze stiff.
“You… you do?”
“Yeah,” Carth confirmed. “Revan told me all about it.”
“He… told you?”
“That’s right.”
“And… you’re fine with it?”
“No, not really, but what can I do? He’s the one in charge here.” Mission nodded. It was just as she’d suspected. Everybody here was under that man’s control. “I actually advised him to leave you there.” Mission’s breath caught in her throat. She was surprised by that admission, and more than a little infuriated.
“You what?!”
“You could have stayed there on Tatooine with your brother.”
“I don’t have a brother,” the Twi’lek uttered, her eyes narrowed.
“So I guess something happened between you and your brother. It was bound to, I suppose. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No!” she forcefully replied.
“Look, I know something’s wrong. Something’s happened to you. Something terrible. I don’t know exactly what it is, but I know the look. I recognize it. I’ve seen it every day, in the mirror. Every single day since the bombardment of Telos. I thought killing Seol would fix things. But it didn’t. It just made everthing worse. Damn him. Damn him! But that… that’s not important. The point is, I know that look, and I can see it right now. I can see it in your eyes.”
Mission turned away. She knew this would happen, but she didn’t want it. She didn’t want Carth’s sympathy, and she didn’t want him snooping around. Not now. He couldn’t help her. He couldn’t undo what was done to her. He couldn’t change the past, no one could.
“You can trust us. You’re one of us, that’s how we see you, that’s how a crew works. We’ve been through a lot together, all of us. If you ever want to talk, we’ll be here for you. You know that, don’t you?” His question remained unanswered. The silence was unendurable. The pair stood in awkward silence, until finally, it was broken. Mission’s tone was dead, cold, and neutral.
“Are we done here?” Carth’s eyes suddenly narrowed.
“Listen, missy,” he spat with rage and frustration blatantly evident in his tone, The past days and weeks of frustration being unleashed on the young alien. “don’t go thinking this thing you’re dealing with is the biggest travesty in the universe. Trust me, it’s not. Because of this war, people are dying! You’re still alive and kicking. Let us help you! Let me help you.”
Mission’s gloved hands tightened into fists. What did he know? What the hell did that old man know? How could he stand there and minimize the seriousness and extremity of what had happened? Of what had happened to her? How could he stand there and insult the ordeal that Revan had put her through? Subconsciously, the girl traced her arm up her back, up to the scar beneath her clothing. Up to the burn mark Revan had inflicted with those smouldering iron chains. Up to the mark left when he’d cut her restraints with his lightsaber, allowing the red hot metal to burn her, to tarnish the clean, blue skin with twin, identical markings of black, like a tattoo. Up to the permanent reminder he’d given her, to ensure that she’d never forget what had happened to her, so that she’d never forget what he had done to her. As if she ever would. It was almost ironic, in a bitter, humorless kind of way.
What did Carth know? What the hell did Carth know?
“Listen, I didn’t mean that,” Carth apologized, apparently having had time to reflect on his latest outburst. “I just want you to know that we’re here for you.” Thinking on his words, Mission nodded.
“I know. Can I go now?” Seemingly defeated, Carth sighed. He had given up. It was obvious in his tone.
“Do whatever you want.”
X
That was the last time Mission had seen or spoken to any of the crew. Well, except for Zaalbar of course. With Bastila gone, Mission had the starboard dormitory all to herself. While there was technically another female in their ranks, Juhani, the Cather preferred to sleep on her own, away from anyone else. Outside of her allotted bunk in the designated female crew quarters located in the starboard wing of the freighter.
After her painful discussion with Carth, the rest of the crew had avoided her, and she had avoided them, save for the aforementioned Wookie with whom she currently lay.
Had Carth advised the crew to leave her, or were they doing it of their own submission? Thinking on it now, none of the crew who had joined after Taris seemed to bother with her. Revan, Carth, and Zaalbar were the only ones who had ever seemed to care about her.
Not that it mattered now. Had Mission changed? Carth had noticed it. Her change in attitude must have been a warning bell. Perhaps that’s what was keeping the others away. The reasons were irrelevant. Besides, it was a fortunate situation in which the Twi’lek now found herself. Solitude was what she wanted; it was now what she possessed, almost.
Zaalbar remained beside her as her sole companion. This was the way Mission wanted it. Zaalbar was her only friend, her only family. He was all she had, needed, or wanted. He was the only one she would permit near her. Nobody else would get under her skin, nor over it.
Never again.
Not ever.
The sound of Zaalbar’s heavy breathing kept the blue alien company during the long night. It was always the same. How many days had it been since Tatooine? How many sleepless nights had she lain awake, unable to rest her tired mind, unable to sleep? How many days had she spent roaming the empty halls in the tail end of the ship? How many hours had she spent in silent solitude?
This was all because of him. Everything she felt, and everything she didn’t. It was because of him. His fault. All his fault. His damn fault.
Mission was numb. She didn’t feel anger toward Revan, which was strange. She should have been furious. The alien thought she’d be burning on the inside, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t hot, but she wasn’t cold. She wasn’t upset, or any kind of distraught, but neither was she angry.
Mission felt nothing. She was utterly empty inside. She couldn’t feel. She couldn’t feel anything anymore.
No distress, no fury, no fear. She felt only one thing, surprisingly. A kind of nervousness, tapered with excitement. It was a sickly feeling that swelled in her once empty stomach like a bubble of gas. Expanding, enlarging, unstoppable. She had felt it before. It could have only been one thing.
Adrenaline, it must have been. Yes, that was it, she was sure of it. Her breath shook, her entire body quivering with it. With each measured breath, the feeling grew within her. The girl shuddered with each shaking exhale loosed from her pale lips.
Mission knew such a feeling. She had faced it before, usually in the midst of a ferocious battle, such as in the Vulkar base on Taris, or the Sith Embassy on Manaan, or on the Czerka walkway of Kashykk when that group of Dark Jedi had attacked them.
The battles had given her an unpleasant mix of excitement, fear, dread, anger, even sorrow. Mission shuddered as she experienced the all too familiar sensation, as the familiar chill ran down her spine.
Resolve took her, and without even breathing, the young Twi’lek moved her right arm across her body, down to her belt, down to the scabbard on her right side. Fingers enclosed tightly around the hilt of her Vibroblade.
Rising from the bunk, Mission took a step backward and drew her blade. She held the black grip in both hands, placing her left foot behind her and dropping into a battle-ready stance. The curved blade glistened in the low light of the Starboard quarters, contrasting the dull, grey metal frame below it, the guard separating the blade from the hilt, and the pommel, located below the Twi’lek’s blue hands which tightly gripped the weapon, her body poised in a defensive stance.
Her face was deadly serious. Set and cold. Activating the ultrasonic generator positioned within the weapon’s hilt, Mission felt the familiar tingling in her hands as the weapon began to softly vibrate. A blue light in the grip signified the weapons activation, as did the low hum that filled the room.
The weapon’s hilt vibrated beneath Mission’s hands. The design couldn’t prevent this, but the slight inconvenience was well worth the benefit that the upgradable vibro-weapon gave in battle.
The ultrasonic vibrations of the blade were rapid and devastating. They could turn a mere surface cut into a gaping wound. The girl knew what she had to do, and she knew just how difficult it would be.
The calm, cool exterior simply didn’t do justice to what was going on within the alien’s mind, within her body. A Maelstrom of emotion, of adrenaline and fear. Nervous and excited, Mission switched off her blade, and the weapon’s incessant hum died, giving way once more to absolute silence.
Releasing her battle-stance, Mission allowed her blade to fall to her side, held firmly in her right hand. Turning from her single companion, she walked silently out of the room. Zaalbar might have helped her, if she’d asked. But Revan was right. The Wookie would be torn between loyalty to his friend and the honour of his life-debt. It was a tough decision, a life changing decision. It would be a difficult place for the redeemed exile, and Mission would not place her friend in that position.
Walking through the halls and corridors onboard the Hawk at night was a strange experience. When everyone was asleep, there was nobody around. Nobody to see her. The lights were darkened. Enough to see, all the better to dictate the time. How else would the crew know when to sleep?
There were no shifts on this ship. There was no one keeping watch. There was no reserve crew, nor night crew. It made some sense. This was not a warship, after all. All were up during Galactic Republic Standard daylight hours, and the entire crew slept during the night. For this reason, the ship’s lights were currently dimmed all over the ship, but especially so in the crew quarters and medical bay.
It was a method used to help the crew sleep, and to help them retain a semblance of time, so that one day would not blur into another. Time had a tendency to do that during interstellar travel.
The gentle humming noises of the ship’s instruments were all that kept the blue skinned alien company. Even her footsteps remained silent against the hard, metal surface below her. Boots that usually clanked against the Hawk’s floor refused to give voice, a datum for which Mission Vao was eternally grateful.
The Twi’lek knew what had to be done. She knew what she had to do. She wouldn’t be able to sleep, wouldn’t be able to rest, not until it was done.
Mission looked around, and she couldn’t help but notice that the Ebon Hawk seemed so different. It was like a ghost ship with no life aboard and only reserve power to offer dim lighting and limited life support to any who may climb aboard the vessel, only to die when the struggling essential systems finally failed.
It was a disconcerting thought, a disturbing feeling. Mission didn’t like it. She didn’t like any of this. She took a deep breath, held it in, and let it out. This had to be done. Living in the past was useless. She had to move on.
Zaalbar was indebted and enslaved to a cruel master. So were they all, in a way. A terrible master. A soldier, a Jedi, a Sith. A master whom Mission would not serve. Not anymore, never again.
She knew what she had to do. It wouldn’t be easy, but she would manage. She was alone, she had no help, nobody to back her up. Nobody would help her. The only one she could even hope to depend on was Zaalbar, but she couldn’t ask her friend to help her with this disdainful business.
The tubular hallways of the Ebon Hawk led her into the hanger-like garage which was used to store various tools and materials, from weapons to droid parts. Up against the wall was a workbench. Droid maintenance and mechanics were things that Revan had come to fascinate himself with. More so as their journey dragged on. As time drew on, the crew had watched their leader’s interest in the subject grow. It had relaxed him, allowed him to distance himself from everything. He could forget the quest and lose himself to a procedure or mechanism, if only for a time.
They all had their talents, their interests. As for Mission, she was most at peace whilst using her brain. Breaking a mathematical algorithm, cracking a code, or slicing a system. Cool logic.
The longer their quest, the more Revan had secluded himself away from them, confining himself to this very garage, toiling away in the endless hours of space travel, spending his time maintaining weapons, the droids, or the object that took up the majority of the room in the garage. The Swoop bike. With it, he had raced on Tatooine and Manaan, quite successfully in fact. More than that, he had competed in the sector championship on Manaan, even been named Sector Champion. That all seemed so long ago to the present Twi’lek.
So long ago. Back to a complicated, yet simpler time. Simpler than the current moment. A simpler time, and a much more pleasant time.
Despite everything, the Hawk’s garage was deathly silent. Reguardless of it’s occupants, and considering the flickering lights from up ahead, it was a wonder anyone could sleep in here, yet sleep they did.
Revan had grown apart from the rest of the crew, shunning the company of the living in favour of that of droids and machines. He’d begun spending all his time in the garage. Now, he was even sleeping in there.
How could he find such a place comfortable? The smell of dust, metal, and oil radiated throughout. And that bright light, flickering overhead. It was such an annoyance, Mission could scarcely tolerate it. How could anyone sleep in here? It was implausible.
Mission sighed and cleared her mind. It wasn’t important. She was here for a reason. She had a task to complete. Tightening her grip on her vibroblade, the blue Twi’lek approached them.
Them. The two of them. The pair. Revan and his new slave, the Yellow Twi’lek from Motta’s palace, the one who’d pledged herself to the Sith Lord in exchange for her life. The one they called Ree.
Revan lay on his back, near the swoop bike, his right arm draped lazily around the feminine alien who lay curled into him, seeming quite content with her head resting upon the human’s chest. The Hutt-spawn looked so peaceful lying there together. Mission narrowed her eyes at the display, grudgingly accepting that her disdain could once have been envy. Hating the fact that she once would have wanted to be in the golden Twi’lek’s place.
Thankfully, such was no longer the case, and Mission was no-longer filled with such foolish delusions.
Whatever these two had been up to, at least they were wearing clothes.
Taking her last final steps toward the couple, Mission raised her vibroblade and switched it on, once more feeling the familiar vibrations of the pulsating hilt in her right hand.
She held the weapon tightly in both hands and dropped into a battle stance. Neither aggressive, nor defensive. Her grip was tight, yet her body was loose. Her breathing deepened. Recycled, processed air flowed up the alien’s nasal passage as the Hawk’s life support systems fed her lungs.
She took slow, sluggish breaths, inhaling deeply. Deeper and deeper. This was it. This was really it. Mission saw nothing but the human below her, laying, sleeping under the flickering lights above.
Mission attempted to calm herself, to slow her noisy breathing. The lights above flickered distractingly, noisily. They buzzed and crackled as they erratically blinked on and off.
The vibroblade’s hum was brought to Mission’s attention. She didn’t think it would be enough to wake the sleeping couple, but reguardless, she had to do this soon. If either of them woke, she’d be…
-She…
-She’d be…
-She’d be dead.
The young Twi’lek swallowed hard. She… she had to go through with this. She’d already decided. She was already in here. It was too late to turn back. Turning her back would not help if Revan saw her in here. Assumed guilt was enough to guarantee her a swift execution at the Sith’s experienced hands.
She had to do it. She no longer had a choice. She had to kill him. And she had to do it now. She had to do it with a single strike. A single attack. She had to ensure that Revan was dead before he had a chance to defend himself. Otherwise, it would all be over.
The pressure was immense. Mission could feel the sweat on her brow. She made no move to wipe it, keeping her tight grip on the tool of her aggressors assured destruction. The sweat, her uncomfortably high body temperature made her skin moist and sticky, but it was livable. At any rate, It was but a distraction. One that Mission felt was best to ignore.
She inhaled a large gulp of air, holding it, mentally preparing herself. Disregarding her present situation, Mission closed her eyes. Alone in the darkness, she saw nothing. Felt nothing save for the blade vibrating incessantly in her two handed grip. Smelled only her surroundings. And heard naught but the sound of her weapon’s low hum. The alien took a single small step backward as the strangely welcoming sound graced her.
She held her breath, calming her nerves…
She held it, emptying her mind…
She held it, as she prepared for battle…
She held it…
Held it…
Held it…
And finally…
Released.
She Inhaled once more, and allowed the breath escape.
And in.
And out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Slowly, silently, Missions eyes opened. Her face was an unspoiled encryption card, as was the deserted plain of her mind.
She was ready.
The weapon was raised high. The hilt level with her eyes. The blade tilted. Turned toward its owner’s foe. With one singular action, it was done. With one fluid motion, Mission thrust her blade downward, and into the sleeping form of her dishonored tormentor.
At the last moment, The human’s eyes flashed open. Mission’s eyes snapped to full width. Her intake of breath was sharp. Revan had woken. He had seen her. If this strike didn’t finish him…
The unexpected astonishment had drastically affected the Twi’lek’s carefully calculated attack. The shock, the realization, as well as the unaccounted gasp that followed, had reduced the accuracy of her strike. The blade had still plunged into the man’s flesh, but the angle, the trajectory, the point of contact. The entry wound was different. Not at all as Mission had expected. Nothing at all like the strike that Mission had planned.
But it didn’t matter. The tremors of her vibroblade made short work of shredding flesh. Stripping it, slicing it, peeling it.
The gash was grotesque, and profuse scarlet seeped. It was fatal.
Mission disengaged her vibroblade and withdrew it from the flesh-sheath of Revan’s body. The tainted silver was loosed, followed by a gushing fountain of human blood that flowed. The wound was sickening and deep. The gruesome sight made it difficult for Mission to watch.
The sight, the stench. The young Twi’lek hadn’t been prepared for this at all. It was surreal. So violent. So abhorrent. Nothing at all like the scorch marks made from her weapon of choice, the holdout blaster she’d left under her bunk, far too noisy a weapon for a situation like this.
Mission had used her vibroblade before, but never in such a lethal way. Since joining Revan, she’d only ever had to use her blade defensively, holding off a foe and distracting them long enough for Carth or one of the others to take them out.
She’d had to use it before that of course, but she’d never been forced to kill a human before. She’d taken out a few rackhouls in the Taris sewer system, but those foul creatures were much different. They didn’t bleed like this.
The smell was suffocating. Mission couldn’t breathe.
Her eyes shot wide open. The room began to spin. What was this?
Her pulse raced. She could feel it. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Lightheadedness caused her to sway on the spot. Made it difficult to keep her guard up. Her breathing shallowed. Its pace increased, but the alien was unable to secure the oxygen required to feed her body, not to mention her suddenly anxious brain.
The world around her spun so recklessly. She was dizzy, nauseous, fatigued. She could feel a terrible pain building up from within. Centered in her stomach. A stabbing affliction.
She felt terrible. Mission had dealt a fatal blow to the former Dark Lord, but she didn’t understand. It felt as though she were the one who was dying.
Almost as though Revan had countered her strike somehow. But no. That was impossible… wasn’t it? She looked to the soon to be deceased male. He lay helpless before her. Gaping wound in his abdomen. A large, round slit. Far from a clean cut.
Blood poured from the cavernous, puncturing injury. Pulsating still, as though the Twi’lek’s blade had severed a major artery.
The sight was rhythmic. Mesmerizing. Horrifying. Mission didn’t want to see. Yet she couldn’t look away.
She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs refused to expand. Suddenly, the ache in her stomach grew much worse. The girl’s sight left her, and she lurched forward.
The foul, thick, acidic fluid rocketed upward, and into her mouth.
The blade’s hilt slipped from Mission’s grasp and was left to clatter against the garage floor. The sound echoed in a thunderous cacophony in contrast to the still, tense silence of the room, yet fell upon naught but deaf ears. One set dead, one sleeping, and the other numb.
Mission collapsed, dropping forward. As she fell, it felt as though she were in an ancient holo-projection running at half speed.
Her eyes darted to the face of her now conquered oppressor.
His expression, he was… smirking?
A smile. On his lips? Why? What could possibly –
The alien had no time to think. Her mind was instantly emptied, along with the contents of her empty stomach as her body heaved.
On all fours she rested, head low to the ground as her body continued to painfully heave. Again and again, the rancid bile escaped her lips. Hitting the ground and mixing with the foul stench that continued to invade her nasal passages. Paralyzing her, mesmerizing her, pulling her into a chain, a cycle. A horrible cycle of gagging and retching.
The Twi’lek Hated it.
Eventually, the cycle came to an end, and Mission could feel the pain in her stomach easing.
Wiping her mouth on her arm, the next sound was that of mad, cackling laughter.
Her eyes instantly darted toward the human. He simply lay there, laughing. Wounded, dying; but laughing.
Why? Why was he laughing? And at what? Her? Mission had just dealt a deadly blow to the human. How could he be laughing at her? How could he lie there smirking like that?
His eyes stared straight up. His mouth opened. And he spoke. His voice wasn’t strained as Mission would have expected. He didn’t sound like one on the verge of death. More so than anything else, he sounded… amused?
“Did you really think it would be that easy, Mission?”
To the Twi’lek’s utter horror and astonishment, the scene before her had begun to warp and distort. The blood began to evaporate and disappear. The gruesome, disgusting wound Mission had inflicted had begun to close before her very eyes.
The alien’s eyes widened as she stared at the human’s face. The fourteen year old froze as the man moved.
Suddenly, Revan shifted to look at her. “Come now, you’ve seen me fight. Surely you didn’t underestimate me so?”
“But, how?” Mission asked. This was too much for her. What was going on? “What… I don’t…”
“Understand?” Revan asked. “Naturally. I wouldn’t have expected you to.”
“What’s going on? How did you heal yourself?”
“The Force is an open gate to the road of many previously undiscovered powers and abilities. I wasn’t sure this would work, never having tested it in live combat before. You presented the perfect opportunity, Mission. I should thank you.”
“What ability?” the Twi’lek asked, we’ve all seen the healing meditation.”
“Healing? No.”
“Then… what?”
“An ability that is indirect. Neither offensive, nor strictly defensive. A method of psychological torture, more than anything else. Not much use for it in a battle scenario, except as a distraction. I must say, it worked wonders, much more so than I could ever have imagined.”
“What?” Mission asked, confused. Then it struck her. “You mean… all of that… it was an illusion?”
“Smart girl,” Revan sneered.
“So I… I never hurt you?”
“It would take more than that to kill me, Mission. Though it was a valiant effort. I’m proud.”
“Proud?”
“That’s right. Who knew you could carry out such a task all by yourself? Though, I must say that I’m a little disappointed by your lack of creativity. You were going to stab me in the dead of night? Then what? How would you have explained it away to the crew? And what about Malak? How did you intend to beat Malak without me?”
“I…” Mission was speechless. She didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t thought about it from this angle.
“You should have come after me at a later date, when the war was over, and Mission?”
“What?”
“For future reference… never attack a Jedi directly. You must find an indirect approach.”
“Are you lecturing me?” Mission was beginning the feel enraged. She tries to kill him and he plays it down to the level of a childish prank?
“Just giving advice. Take it or leave it.” Mission’s eyes narrowed.
“Thanks,” she replied, her voice sounding thick.
“Don’t sulk, Mission,” Revan laughed. “As I said, it was a valiant attempt, but not very well planned out. You were far too impulsive.”
“So now what? Are you going to kill me?”
“Not at all.” Mission sighed. He didn’t consider her a threat. Should she feel relieved or insulted? She didn’t know.
“So what, I just go? We pretend this never happened?” Revan’s smile dropped.
“I’m afraid not, little Mission.” The Twi’lek’s eyes widened. She didn’t like the sound of this. She really didn’t like this. The girl shuddered under the human’s gaze. After the last time he’d given her that look, it was hardly surprising. Unable to move, she could only look at him. “While I admire your ingenuity and initiative, I’m afraid I simply cannot tolerate your incompetence. You were foolish to underestimate me. You were a fool to think I would die so easily. As was Malak.”
Mission froze. Had she touched a nerve? A deadly one, by the look of it.
“Your stupidity,” Revan continued, “cannot go unrecompensed.” If Mission weren’t afraid before, she was utterly terrified now. Her resolve from moments before had shrunk down to nothing.
“But you said…”
“That I wouldn’t Kill you?” Revan smirked once more. “Don’t worry, I won’t, I fully intend to leave you alive. I won’t kill you, Mission, but you must be punished.”
Mission subconsciously shuddered. Her face visibly blanched from the unimaginable horror that doubtlessly awaited her.
Revan sat up, disturbing the yellow Twi’lek who slept smugly at his side. “Wha…?” she moaned, dazed from sleep. “What is it?”
“How would you like to have a little fun with our friend here?” the human asked her.
Looking the blue alien over with tired eyes, it took her a moment to understand her new master’s meaning. Eventually, her grin pulled upward until her smirk matched his. Brown eyes traversed the length of her fellow Twi’lek’s body and she responded. “Of course, Master.”
The pair rose to their feet and advanced on their prey. “Seal the doors,” Revan ordered.
“Of course,” Ree answered, hurrying to do as instructed. Briskly, she walked to the open blast door from which Mission had entered the Garage and touched her hand to the console left of the door.
The heavy obstruction came down, separating Mission from the rest of the ship. A far off sound coming from behind her implied that Revan had likewise sealed the other door. The three of them were trapped, stranded, and alone in the swoop garage.
Mission swallowed hard as the pair surrounded her, advancing on her from both sides.
This was it. She had to act fast. Otherwise…
No! Not that. Not again. She wouldn’t allow it. She could not allow it. Even the memory stung.
Giving into seeming helplessness, the girl dropped to her knees.
Blue fingertips touched the hilt of a vibroblade and Mission’s hand tightened around her weapon.
She wouldn’t allow them to do this. Not to her. Not now, not here. Not ever.
Not again. Neither of them would get close enough to feel her breath. She’d do whatever it took to defend herself this time. That man would never touch her. Neither of them would. His hands would never feel her skin. Not even her clothes.
No matter how hopeless, Mission would defend herself. Against any threat. Even Revan. She’d cut anything that came near her. And this time, she’d cut him for certain. She’d wound him, she’d make him feel what she’d felt.
He’d not touch her. He’d not touch any other. Not again. Not ever.
Her face set hard. Her blade was brought up in a battle-ready stance. One in front, the other behind. Revan was to be her first target. He was a more dangerous and immediate threat. She set her sights and charged.
He’d not touch her…
Not now…
Not ever…
“Never again!” the Twi’lek cried as she ran at full force toward the despicable human.
The next sound was of metal clanking against the floor of the garage. Mission stared wide eyed at the human. The blade had slipped from her grasp. Her mouth opened, agape. Hands rose to her throat, as if to free it from an invisible attacker. She swallowed gulp after gulp of air, trying desperately to force the breathable gas into her lungs, but nothing would help.
Time dragged on, and the alien could feel her lungs burning, as if on fire. She tried again and again to breathe. A single inhalation. Anything.
She could feel the invisible grip on her tighten. She was lifted into the air. The room began to spin. The panic sent shockwaves throughout her body. Was this how she would die?
This… this couldn’t be it. She cried out. She shouted. She screamed, but all that escaped was a muffled moan. A groan. A helpless, asphyxiated gurgle. The world went black….
Suddenly, the Twi’lek was released. She dropped, and hit the ground. Hard. But it didn’t matter. She was alive. She could breathe, and her body made short work of making up for those lost moments, however long they may have been.
The sudden and rushed intake of air into Mission’s lungs was almost painful. But it was a good pain. It was a welcome ache in contrast to the burning, choking torture from moments ago.
The young Twi’lek gasped and spluttered in a heap on the floor until she eventually caught her breath.
“I just told you, Mission. Direct attacks will never work on me. Not from the likes of you, anyway. You stand no chance against me in one-on-one combat.” Mission looked up at the human, their eyes meeting for a brief moment.
“What choice did I have?” she muttered, barely coherently. “I had to do something.”
“Did you?” Revan asked. “Sometimes, the best defense is a shield. Sometimes, the best defense is offense. Other times, the best defense is nothing.”
“No-nothing?”
“That’s right. Neutrality. Observation. Analysis. It is more than cowardice. Despite their abhorrent arrogance and hypocrisy, there is wisdom in the Jedi’s pacifism. Sometimes we must endure and make sacrifices when appropriate. When we are outmatched, we must do nothing. Allow things to play out. Eventually, a weakness will appear in the wall. Something we can exploit. Apply the right pressure to the right spot, and the wall will crack. The defenses will crumble.”
“And if none is found?” Revan smirked.
“everything has an inherent weakness, Mission.”
“Even people?”
“Especially people.”
“So… what’s mine?”
“I can’t tell you that. You must discover it for yourself.”
“What about yours?”
“Likewise, you must discover it yourself. If you intend to best me, you must find your own way. I see no reason to make it easy for you.” With that said, Mission felt an invisible hand lift her from the ground.
Eyes widened in fear as the blue alien braced herself for more of past brutal treatment. She stole a glance at the other Twi’lek who looked on with partial interest. Mission turned her gaze to Revan. As expected, he faced her with his right arm raised, controlling her movement with the Force.
Unexpectedly, the human also raised his left hand, fingers slightly curled.
“No,” Mission breathed. She knew what he was going to do to her. She’d seen this before. He was using simultaneous Force powers, a signature technique of his he often used whilst unarmed. He usually rendered a target indefensible by creating a whirlwind or choking them with the Force, and then at the same time, he would incapacitate them with a blast of force lightning.
He was going to use that on her?
“No… No! Don’t, No! Na-aahhhh!” the victimized Twi’lek cried in protest, her staccato yelp becoming an all-out agonized scream as blinding strings of light instantly shot from the human’s fingertips. Crackling, splitting, spreading, arcing throughout the air. Painfully penetrating her body at multiple points.
The light was blinding, illuminating the world about her to the point of whiteout. Mission screamed uncontrollably as her mind overloaded. She couldn’t see; couldn’t hear; couldn’t think; couldn’t speak, save for the blistering screams emanating from her slender throat; knew only the white-hot pain from the lightning as it scorched her from the inside-out.
The electricity raced through Mission’s body, afflicting every organ, frying every cell, burning every particle. As she mindlessly screamed, her body reacted on its own. As the raw electrical energy passed through her, Mission’s muscles began to tense, constricting painfully to the current passing through.
It was impossible for Mission to tell how long she had been in this state, but the next thing she knew, she was dropping lifelessly to the ground. Once again, the Twi’lek hit the ground hard, landing in a graceless heap, but this time, her entire body ached. Her muscles throbbed. Her flesh, her skin burned. She had done nothing, but her body responded as though she’d run a marathon.
Mission was exhausted. Her muscles were utterly spent. She couldn’t tense them if she’d tried. She could scarcely move, and if she tried to stand, the young alien feared her body would fail her. Her body would fall from the shear effort. Or if muscles within her petite frame didn’t do the deed for her, one of her resident captors would.
She managed to voice a small groan before being once more lifted from the ground. She moaned in protest, but ultimately lacked the resolve, energy, and ability to do anything else in her own defense.
Eyelids dropped, and Mission was thrown across the room, landing with a hard thud on the work-bench. She’d have cried out from the impact, had she been able.
“Master?” Ree asked.
“What is it?” Revan responded.
“You mentioned something about fun?”
“What exactly is your protest, Ree’sun? Do you disapprove, or do you feel left out? Perhaps you would like a turn?”
“Well, I’m not really the dominating type…”
“Yes, your sister mentioned that you were too soft-hearted for your own good.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Ree pouted.
Revan let loose a laugh. “If it is fun you want, then fun you shall have. Our young friend has disappointed me and must be punished. After that, you are free to do as you will with her.”
Mission lay motionless as she had landed. Sprawled out, laying prone, and bent over the work-bench, legs dangling over the side behind her.
As he approached Mission’s helpless form, Revan outstretched his hand and fired several short bursts of electricity into her body, taking some measure of twisted amusement from the way her body twitched as the current ran through her muscles, and the sound of her cries as the blasts hit.
Suddenly, Mission felt a cool, soothing sensation wash over her. It started from her shoulders and slowly spread downward. Covering her arms, her chest, her abdomen, her thighs, all the way down to her feet.
“Don’t bother trying to move,” Revan explained. “I think you’ll find your body paralyzed.” Mission released a sharp breath full of air.
As if she could have done anything anyway. She couldn’t move, couldn’t resist, she lacked even the energy to stand.
“It’s another new Force ability,” Revan added, as though sensing her next thought. “You’re entire body is entirely under my complete control, but I will allow you retention of anything above your shoulders. Your head is your own. The rest: belongs to me.
Mission felt Revan approach. She felt a finger run down her back. Her muscles tensed of their own accord. She had no control over her reaction. Her arms stiffened and lifted over her head. She couldn’t bring them down.
Subconsciously, the Twi’lek’s breathing quickened. Her gasps for air shallowed, and once more, the world around her began to spin.
The human stood behind her. She could feel him there. She could sense him. Even through her numb body, she could feel the man’s fingers as they touched her skin. As they felt her young body through the fabric of her clothing. As they took hold of something, as they pulled. As they removed her jacket. And she could do nothing. Eyes shut tight, the girl habitually bit her lower lip as the man wordlessly undressed her.
“Nothing to say for yourself, Mission?” the human taunted, sadistic joy clearly evident within his voice.
Mission bit down harder on her lip. She would not respond. She wouldn’t give the cruel human the satisfaction of an answer. She would give him no response whatsoever.
“Nothing?” Revan questioned. Outstretching his arm once more, he fired yet another blast of electricity into the alien’s young form. “How about now?”
It was too much. Mission couldn’t stop herself. She cried out from the pain. She whimpered as the lightning crackled through her body.
The nightmarish pain intensified, but then without warning, it ceased. Mission’s entire body went limp. It was as though Revan had released his hold over her. She tried to sit up, to wiggle her toe, to move her arm. All to no avail. She was still paralyzed, or so it seemed. The alien still couldn’t move. She was still trapped within her own body. Still trapped before this cruel, sadistic human.
She felt the man’s hand upon her nether regions, and her eyes once more shut painfully tight. Her mind began to overload. She began to panic.
“Not again,” she whimpered inaudibly. “Not again, not again, not again.”
The man’s hands groped her behind. They touched her, caressed her in a way she could not have wanted less. The man wasted no time and slipped a finger inside her.
Mission bit her lip in disgust. He was doing it again. He was going to… he would do this to her a second time. And once again, there was nothing she could do about it. She was completely immobilized this time. But this time, her binds were not made of metal. They were much stronger, and comprised solely of Revan’s will.
Mission was trapped. Mission was doomed.
Suddenly, the young alien felt something warm pressing against her. Something warm, moist, and oh-so soft. What was it? What could it possibly have… been?
It took a moment, but Mission finally realized that it was the strangest and most unexpected feeling imaginable. The feeling of a tongue. Between her small, round buttocks, no less. She felt it move, search for the right spot, sink in to place. She felt the despicable creature’s warm breath against her rear end.
This was unbelievable. It couldn’t be, could it? Was Revan really licking her…? The young alien’s train of thought was cut short by the human’s finger. He thrust it in and out of her. She didn’t want any of this, but she couldn’t think. She couldn’t tear her mind away from the dual teasing of the man’s mouth and hands.
Mission tried to wriggle, tried to squirm away, but could not. She was trapped. She had no choice but to endure this humiliation. This torment.
Suddenly, Revan removed his finger from its current cozy hole and plunged it slowly into the girl’s tight anus.
The Twi’lek’s eyes instantly widened. She’d heard about this repulsive act that vulgar human spacers seemed to enjoy. She’d overheard it from the spacers themselves, back on Taris, before the occupation.
“No,” she breathed in horror. “Not there,” she pleaded. “Revan, please. I’ll do anything. Anything! I mean it, Anywhere but there!”
The human merely smirked as he drove his offending digit deeper inside and felt the tightness of her flesh cling to his finger, hug him, squeeze him. He was unsure if he’d fit anything larger in there, but he would. He’d make it fit. He’d force it in if he had to.
Revan removed himself from the blue alien and lowered his mouth to her opening, thrusting his tongue deep inside, eliciting a tiny, barely audible whimper from the helpless girl who lay vulnerable on the workbench.
The feel of him behind her. The sensation of his tongue on her, inside her. It was disgusting. It was sickening. And it made Mission physically ill to her stomach.
It was hard to believe she had fallen into such a precarious situation. How could she have been so stupid?
What was Revan doing to her? What did he want with her? Why was he doing this? As the girl tried her best to ignore him, her body kept bringing her mind back to the growing sensation within. Her body… it was under Revan’s control. That was what this was. She didn’t enjoy this. She didn’t want this. It was Revan’s interference. That’s why. Her mind wanted no part of it.
It was bad enough that the human was doing this to her again, but did he have to go about it so slowly? Couldn’t he just do it and get it over with? Not that she wanted any of this. It was a dreadful paradox of horrific proportions. She wished none of this had happened. She didn’t want this, but at the same time, she wanted it to be over.
The Twi’lek wished she could simply pass out. To miss out on the experience. To lack the unwanted memory.
Revan pulled away from the moistness between the girl’s thighs, smirking as he did so.
“Getting impatient?” He asked, as if sensing something within the unfortunate girl.
“No,” Mission snapped.
“Oh,” Revan sarcastically replied. “Because your breathing says otherwise.
The Twi’lek’s eyes opened. Her breathing? It was heavier now than it had been. She hadn’t even noticed.
“Go ahead Mission, lie all you want, keep resisting, but we both know you want this.” The girl’s eyes hardened, and she once more struggled in vain.
“Do not!” the girl adamantly exclaimed.
“There’s no use denying it. You’re body gives you away.”
“My body that you control!”
“Is that what you think? I’m only restricting your movements. Your reactions are one hundred percent genuine.”
No, the alien wouldn’t accept that. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. He was doing this. He was. She didn’t want this. She never wanted any of this! “You liar!” she spat.
“Keep telling yourself that, Mission. But know that nobody here believes it. Not even you.”
The girl’s eyes narrowed as her mind contemplated what was said. It was a lie. She knew it was. She knew it.
Mission’s mind froze as she felt something quickly and mercilessly plunge deep inside her body.
No…
Again, the human had entered her. She’d known it was coming, but still…
She felt him moving within her, and there was nothing she could do about it. His movements started slowly, but soon built up in speed and vigor. He had found his rhythm, and was sticking to it. It was sickening.
Mission’s eyes began to water. It was too much to handle. She didn’t want to think about it. She couldn’t think about it, but at the same time she couldn’t escape it. Her eyes closed tightly to ensnare the fast-forming tears. To keep them contained within her sealed eyelids. She would not allow the vile human inside her to see her cry.
Mission Vao was tough. Strong. She didn’t cry. She didn’t allow herself to become victimized. She wouldn’t cry.
Time seemed to stretch and distort, and Revan showed no sign of easing up on his attack of her loins.
Forcing her legs open wider, the human pushed himself further inside her, eliciting a small gasp. The man placed his hands around her hips and thrust harder, moved faster. Mission’s entire body moved along with him, the soft, blue of her underbelly sliding and scraping against the cold, rough surface of the workbench.
The helpless girl uttered a pained groan as something particularly rough and sharp scraped against the nipple of her left breast. Even though she had no control over her body, she could feel every little thing, every feeling, and every single sensation her body experienced.
It didn’t distract her in the least. If anything, the pain locked her mind in on her current position. Not only that, it made the entire situation that much worse. Everything seemed to be intensified.
As if following a cue brought on by Mission’s thought, a blinding pain suddenly filled her mind. Utterly blinding her. Mission cried out as her head arched back, tilting on the axis of her neck as Revan grabbed hold of her Lekku, pulling them hard like the reins of a domesticated beast.
Revan’s movements became more primal, more savage. He held the young Twi’lek’s head-tails firmly in his hands, pulling them toward himself with each bestial movement, his actions growing faster and harder with every thrust.
Unable to contain herself any longer, Mission openly screamed, fluid leaking freely from beneath her closed, cerulean-skinned eyelids. Her torso lifted from the bench, her tiny breasts swinging freely beneath her from the force of Revan’s bestial, irregular movements.
Mission knew nothing. This humiliation, this situation, they were nothing. She knew only the blistering pain that currently burned through her, emanating from her tortured Lekku.
Revan’s movements hastened. His breathing deepened. Seemingly fascinated with the girl’s screams, with causing her pain, with hurting her. It pushed him on. The girls screams, her agony, her torment. Revan could sense them. He drew them in, inhaled them, suckled from them. He sensed them. They were intoxicating.
The girl’s mind bore no sanity, no sentiency, no thought. She was unthinking, unfeeling, and responsive. She was nothing, yet she was his. She knew only the feeling he was giving her, the torment he was giving her. The screams, the taste, the feel, he would have more. He needed more. They stimulated him. Furthered his arousal. Pushed him to impossible depths.
He buried himself deeper inside her, pushed harder, faster. Her flesh swallowed him, begged him for more. This, coupled with the insane anguish of her mind, was more than the human Sith could stand. His movements lost all rhythm.
Revan lost all semblance of self and control. He let it all go. Released everything. His breath caught, eyes rolled backward. The sensation was too great. Too perfect. Overwhelming. Unable to contain himself, unable to help himself, the man released it all. Released himself.
He released everything. Into her…
The unknowable bliss lasted only so long, and inevitably, the human came back to his senses. Stepping backward, he withdrew from Mission and dropped to a seated position on the floor.
Mission, who had been supported in her unnatural position by the man behind her, had no choice but to let the artificial gravity dictate her body’s movements. Still coursing with pain, breathless, and unspeaking, She dropped face-first onto the workbench; a loud, primal groan interrupted her mechanical gasps for breath.
“Master?” Ree asked.
Revan simply sat on the ground, in his semi-robed state. Staring at the still-breathless Mission, as she lay where she dropped on the workbench. A twisted grin came to pervert his features, and in time, the laughter came. Slowly at first, but built up. Long, loud, low.
“Master, should we be worried about the crewmates?” Ree asked. A small amount of fear tipped the tone of her voice.
“The blast doors seal off any sound,” Revan explained. “Mission can scream all she likes. Nobody will hear her. All she’ll do is wear out her voice.” He turned to face the golden, top-heavy Twi’lek, and his grin returned. “Would you like a turn?” He offered his slave.
Ree’s lips pulled upward in a lustful smirk to match that of her master. She knew this was more than merely a reward. This was a request. No, an order. But it was one she would love to fulfill. “Of course, my master.”
Mission, who was barely conscious at the moment, could only moan her protest at the prospect of more. Hadn’t she been subjected to enough for one day?
Though the sound of her voice did not go unheard, it did not help the young Twi’lek in the least.
Widening her grin, Ree approached. This was her chance to do something she had not in some time. Not only would she have fun with this opportunity, she would make sure to please her new master.
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