Rating: NC-17
Warning: Cannibalism.
Disclaimer: The Jedi are George's.
Summary: A Jedi family tries to make an escape from Coruscant during the Jedi Purge. Note: "I wanted to scream, but I had no mouth." is a paraphrase by Harlan Ellison.
They were three simple, little words.
Three simple, little words said every day on every inhabited planet in the galaxy by billions of people.
He said them to me every day to remind me why I was here, to remind me of my failure, of my betrayal. He did not need to, did not have to and could have saved himself the trouble and breath for I remembered them anyway, every waking moment of my existence. For how could I forget, how could I fail to remember? But it brought him joy, brought him elation, and brought him to the brink of ecstasy to say them to me, and so he said them over and over, repeating them endlessly to me.
Three simple, little words that I did not say, did not utter, did not speak and yet they were why I was here.
***
My husband had smiled down at me. A wonderful, joyous smile from his position over me. For the first time in many months, we had actually made love and not merely copulated.
Before, he had been an attentive lover and we shared our bed with eagerness and tender exchanges of affection. A demanding and forceful man by nature, his attributes did not change once we were behind closed doors alone, but I had enjoyed this facet of my husband's personality as it was directed towards our shared pleasure.
Then, when the killing began, he decided that our family which had stayed static in number by mutual agreement for many years would be increased. He didn't ask, didn't consult me, he just announced to me his intentions to impregnate me again. Had circumstances been different, I would have protested loudly and refused for I was nearing the end of my childbearing years and a pregnancy would not only be dangerous to myself but also to the child. But I didn't and accepted the situation.
We were dying. Day by day, the death count mounted and climbed from every corner of the galaxy. Once there were ten thousand of us. Now, who knew how few?
We are not a separate species, for our kind is found among all the races and yet we were being singled out, blamed for all the problems, real and imagined. Yet, we do breed true, our children inheriting the traits for which we were being hunted.
My husband was a proud man, not with pride for himself, no, never, but for what he stood for and the thousands of generations before him that embodied those same values he held so dear. It was this that he feared so much, that it would end with his generation, that the failure against our greatest enemy would occur during his lifetime. That it would be him and his contemporaries that did not beat back the foe, shaming him with defeat where his ancestors had succeeded.
Thus, that was when our lovemaking had stopped and he began to work at making me conceive. His joining with me became mechanical and animal as he was intent on one goal only, as if anything else was a distraction. There was no joy, no feeling and I wished I didn't have to withstand it, but I did for his sake. I didn't know why he had changed for he had never failed to perform before, nevertheless, I said nothing for the times had altered before he had and the end was in sight.
But this time was different, he had returned to his old ways and I delighted in his gentle affections. It was as if he knew.
***
His Padawan and I had worked on his hair the day before, straightening his tight curls and then plaiting his hair into micro-thin braids. Weaving extensions into them, they draped from his head like a large feline's mane. We labored for hours on end until our hands ached from the repetitious motions as he sat there enjoying our preening attentions.
"This is how it should be," he had proclaimed with a mirthful grin on his face as he tried to see the both of us from the corners of his eyes. He dared not turn his head again in fear of tugging loose the current braids being worked on and incurring our wrath once more. "Two beautiful women fawning over me."
His apprentice freed up one of her hands and with an open palm slapped him gently on the side of his head. "Master, you are impossible!"
"Padawan! Such impudence!" he had teased. "What would the Council have to say about a Padawan assaulting her Master?" A dark cloud descended over our gaiety for with his statement came the reminder that the Council no longer sat. I looked over at the somber young woman, now sixteen, and recalled a time a similar expression saddened her usually cheerful personality.
Dallima had caught the eye of Master Chi-Wang's Padawan, a young man by the name of Shen. My husband had ordered her to remain in her room within in our quarters at Temple while he greeted her first suitor. This command was not hard to obey since I was still helping her get dressed for the occasion. She wanted her hair styled in the latest fashion of the Dengra complete with the Grulan beads and the preparations were more time consuming than we thought. They were to spend the evening attending a recital of Mong'ith, an epic-opera from the Dengra system.
We heard the chiming of the door announcer and then the muffled voices of the two. I redoubled my efforts on her hair as she figited anxiously in anticipation of her first date. Finished, we waited for him to call for us. "I'll go check," I had told her before giving her a reassuring hug and exited her room.
I found my husband sitting alone. "Where is Shen?" I asked looking around in vain.
"I sent him home," he said simply.
I couldn't believe my ears. "What?"
"He wasn't suitable marriage material."
I looked at him in shock. "Suitable marriage material? It was a first date!"
"What is dating for anyway? She won't date anyone I don't deem to be proper husband material."
"Don't you think she should decide that for herself?"
"Not as long as I'm her Master and she's my Padawan."
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "And just what did you base your decision upon?"
"He was rude." I looked in wonder at my impassive man as he continued, "He didn't ask my permission." He turned his attention to the datapad in his hands. "Go tell her the date is off."
"No," I had stated firmly. "She's your Padawan, you tell her yourself."
I stormed out of our quarters intent on finding Shen, long had I known the young man and his Master and I knew what had happened. Chi-Wang had not failed to properly instruct his Padawan to be polite and well mannered, I knew them both well. My husband had grilled poor Shen while drawing himself up to his full two meter height crossing him arms across his chest making himself imposing and scaring the wits out of the lad.
I was incensed at my husband, but I knew I could not change his mind once it was made up. Not about this. It was up to Shen.
Shen had answered the door to his and his Master's quarters. "If I may have a word with your Master?" I inquired of the crest-fallen apprentice.
"Come in, come in!" the voice of Chi-Wang invited cheerfully.
I had explained the situation to the elderly Master as his apprentice listened at his side. When I finished, he turned to look at the young man with a reproachful stare and clicked his tongue.
"With your permission, Master, may I seek Dallima's Master's permission?" he asked looking contrite with his eyes lowered.
The elderly Master laughed. "Good, that should work on that old stiff-collar." I laughed with him as his Padawan looked aghast. "Just don't tell him I said that," Chi-Wang stated with a wink to Shen. "You either," he winked at me.
I had thanked him and with Shen in tow returned to our quarters.
Still absorbed in his datapad, my husband didn't look up until Shen was standing in front of him.
"Sir?"
My husband looked up and said nothing, making the lad squirm.
"My apologizes, Sir, I failed to ask your permission earlier. May I take your Padawan out tonight? I would like to take her to a recital of Mong'ith."
My husband stood and placed his hand on Shen's shoulder. "Much better, boy." He nodded for me to fetch Dallima. As I turned, he continued, "Good, I like that epic-opera."
I stopped to see horror wash over the face of Shen. "Sir?"
"You didn't think I was going to let the two of you go all alone. I'll be your chaperone. Unless, you would prefer your Master, Chi-Wang . . ."
"No, Sir, that's fine," Shen shook his head. "It's just that I have only two tickets."
Grabbing his hooded cloak, my husband had said, "I'll just have to buy mine then when we get there. Let's just hope it's not sold out."
***
"There, finished," I had stated as I attached the last silverinum bell to the final micro-thin braid of my husband's hair. As he stood, the multitude of small bells at the end of each swaying braid jingled musically. His Padawan handed him the reflection lamina and he smiled for the very last time in admiration of his handsome dark image made all the more pleasing due to our handiwork.
Our son, Rand, returned to us upon the murder of his Master, brought in his father's tall boots. He had polished the black leather footwear with the silverinum buckles to a such a high shine, they could have substituted for the reflection lamina in its stead. Our now perpetually sad-faced son handed his father the boots and my husband without a word sat back down and pulled them on, fastening the buckles last of all.
"Good job, son," my husband had praised while passing his hand over the boots.
"Thank you, father," Rand stated without emotion.
"Cape? Where is my cape?" my husband had asked turning his body and looking around.
"Here, daddy," our daughter, Faeth, offered as she had bounded into the room carrying the voluminous black cape in her small arms. Our small girl had smiled up in admiration at her giant of a sire. He had removed the burden from her arms and touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers, but had not returned her bright smile.
He paused with the cape in his hands and had addressed me. "Remember, wife, do exactly as we discussed. Do not deviate from our plans." He had looked around then to see his two children and his Padawan. "If something happens, if they suspect, I will create the diversion so you may escape. Do not fail me. Get my children and my Padawan *on that ship!* Do not let my sacrifice be for naught."
With that he donned his cape draping its many folds across his broad shoulders and closing the silverinum clasp at his neck. He was no longer my husband.
As he stood there, I admired the Repinorith Lord before me. Totally dressed in black, from his boots to his leggings and tunic ending finally with the long cape trimmed with a fine silver edge, he was magnificent. He was a study in ebon, for one could hardly tell where the cloth ended and his darker than dark skin began. Other than the silverinum adornments and the silver trim on the cape, there was only the pearly-white of his teeth and his clear eyes centered with dark irises to break the night-colored vision of the majestic man before me.
Holding out his hand, I could see in his face and carriage that he had totally immersed himself in the persona of a Repinorith Lord. Our son hurried to place his staff in his out stretched hand. His lightsaber, the only one our group was going to be carrying, had been carefully worked into the staff's end, hidden among the jewels.
My husband was going to hide in plain sight.
***
With a sweep of his staff, my husband had indicated for us to line up for one final inspection. As he looked us over, I had recalled our preparations.
We were to be a Repinorith Lord's family, which in the custom of these people regulated the wife and children to a life of servitude that only just skirted the antislavery laws of the Republic, not that those laws held any meaning any more. In contrast to the regal splendor of my husband, our shabby clothing befitted our status in Repinorith society which was to say nothing other than what the Lord of the family deemed to dole out. Usually, this was not much more than nothing.
He had looked me over first, ensuring that my wedding ring was still off. As a Repinorith wife, such things as jewelry of precious metals would be unthinkable and had been replaced by a durasteel bracelet indicating my position. When I had removed my wedding ring, my husband seeing my distress at removing the band had promised to replace it as soon as it was possible. It hadn't eased my heart for I had never before removed it and didn't want a replacement for the one he had originally placed upon my finger.
Faeth had been next and our young daughter stood as still as her active self could stand in the rough itchy clothing. He scanned over her without a word or smile and she had hung her head unused to a cold hard stare from her father. We were most worried about her acting the part, but as long as she maintained that demeanor there would be no problems, even though I knew it was breaking my husband's heart to treat his little darling so.
Rand's scrutiny was next. As the son he held a bit more status than women, as his silverinum bracelet indicated. His Padawan's braid had been long gone, for in a fit of sorrowful rage over the slaying of his Master, he had ripped it out with his own hands.
Finally, my husband had looked over Dallima, his Padawan. Her Padawan's braid had only just been removed this morning, cut by my husband himself. This had caused the young woman much distress and she had been on the brink of tears. My husband had tenderly cupped her chin in his palm, promising her that once this was all over, it would grow back and he would be the first once again to braid it. She had given him a wan smile and I knew that just like with my ring it would never replace it.
Nodding his head, my husband indicated that all was ready.
"Master?" Dallima asked.
My husband drew back his hand and only barely stayed himself from slapping her across the face with the back of his hand. "Don't you ever call me that again!" he ordered.
Dallima hung her head. "Yes . . . Lord."
When my husband had regained his composure, she dared to speak again. "Lord . . ."
My husband sighed. "Yes, yes, of course. But we'll have to make it quick."
With that, we gathered up our bags and headed for the door. At its threshold, I paused, giving our home one final look, before exiting. The door shut behind me, closing with it our life as we had known it.
As the turbolift doors opened, we entered and stood in the car silent as the floors passed. Reopening, we walked down the hall to Master Chi-Wang and his Padawan Shen's quarters still saying nothing. At the door, Dallima pressed the call announcer, but it opened before her finger left it.
Shen had looked at her with sad eyes as he invited us in. His Master managed to rise from his bed with difficulty. "Well, this is it, I guess, my old friend."
"Yes," my husband had answered.
The two stood regarding each other for a time before my husband spoke again. "I really wish you would change your mind and come with us."
The old Master shook his head. "You know that is impossible. I can't travel yet, still have much healing to do. We will escape as soon as I am able."
"At least tell me were you are going, so we can meet up later," my husband had stated as he looked at the bandaged wounds of his friend.
"Too dangerous," Chi-Wang said wearily with a dismissing wave of his hand. "The less each of us knows, the better. You know that."
"Still . . ." my husband had trailed off.
"May the Force be with you, my friend."
My husband took the few steps between them and embraced the slight man in his huge arms and whispered, "May the Force be with us all."
Shen who had been standing uneasily, steeled himself and dared approach Dallima without a glance at my husband. He fished in his belt and produced a golden ring. Reaching for Dallima's hand, he gazed into her eyes and slipped it on her finger. As he kissed her, she started crying.
My husband pushed Shen aside and started to remove the ring before he was interrupted by Chi-Wang. "Let it be," the elderly man had stated quietly.
Turning to look at his friend, my husband softened somewhat, but removed the ring anyway and placed in within one of the pockets of his tunic. He looked into his Padawan's dark eyes. "You can have it back . . . later." With that, he gave Shen a withering glare and turned on his heel hurrying out of the room.
***
Dallima's terrified scream snapped me awake and I would have opened my eyes, but they were now perpetually open. A gift from him, my eyelids had been cut away ensuring that I witnessed everything and could not shut anything out.
The young girl's labor had begun many hours ago from my best estimate, perhaps as much as a day for I had no way of judging time. I looked at the poor girl, not that I could turn my head away for I did not have freedom of movement even over such a small thing as my own head. I was strapped down tightly by the restraining embrace of durasteel bands.
She was having a difficult time and she had now entered hard labor. My heart ached for her and I wished I could give her comfort, any aide during her pain, even if it was only words. But the gift of speech had been taken away from me also. He had sutured my lips shut long ago.
Her distended belly shuddered with another contraction as she screamed again. As sweat glistened over her dark skin and her face contorted in a grimace of intense agony, a thousand thoughts raced through my mind.
I wished that both Dallima and her baby would die.
Death was our only escape now and I hoped that the young girl would soon be free, taking her unborn baby with her, blissfully unaware of what life would have had in store for it.
I wondered who the father was.
Dallima had been raped repeatedly, but he had been the first. He had wasted no time in gloating over his prizes and had come striding into our cell with a wide smile. It was the first time he said those three words to me and he never failed to repeat them each time he came. Bending close to me he whispered them into my ear. I never wanted anything so much in my life before, then to be able to slap him across the face.
Sharply dressed in his uniform, he was a handsome man which made his atrocities somehow all the more sinister. When he pulled back his face I could see the pride in his green eyes over his accomplishment in producing anger from me. Laughing, he had approached Dallima and started to stroke her short, curly hair. In horror, I realized what nefarious plans he had in store for my husband's Padawan. I tried to control my feelings to deny him the satisfaction, but I fear I failed in this also.
Strapped down only a few meters next to her, Rand had shut his eyes tightly and I could tell if he had been able to close his ears, he would have done this as well.
Unable to shut my eyes or even blink, I had to witness it all. Dallima had screamed at first, but as he paused in his savage thrusting into her slim body he would yell at her to stop and enforced his commands with strikes to her mouth and face with his closed fist. She stopped protesting after she lost teeth.
"Call me Master," he demanded. I hadn't heard anything but her cries and anguished moans. "Call me Master," he commanded more forcefully while stopped deep within her. Dallima still cried but said nothing. "Call me Master, and I'll finish quickly and it will be over." I heard Dallima's soft voice, but only knowing what he wanted her to say enabled me to make it out. "Louder," he stated, slapping her across the face this time.
There was no mistaking her cry of "Master!" then. Satisfied, he resumed his animal-like humping, grunting and sweating over her. Arching his back, he had consummated his actions and slid out of her.
"There, that wasn't so bad was it," he cooed to her. "In fact, you probably enjoyed it, you whore."
He had pulled up his pants, fastening them as he returned, swaggering, to my side. "She wasn't as tight as I thought she would be. I slipped right in," he whispered in my ear. "Your husband must have been sampling his Padawan."
I knew what he was trying to do and I refused to even contemplate his accusations. Knowing my husband, the idea was so unthinkable, I could have laughed in his face under different circumstances. But then under different circumstances, he wouldn't have been saying these things to me.
Strange thoughts instead raged through my head. I thought things I never would have imagined before or hoped would be true. I shifted my eyes to Dallima and fervently hoped she had disobeyed my husband. I hoped that she and her Shen had secretly avoided my husband's watchful eye and the two young lovers had spent time together in passion. I wished that this animal before me had not been her first experience but rather that she had enjoyed the tender lovemaking of her beloved Shen at least once. No - many, many times so that she had a wealth of memories from which to draw upon.
But then this animal added, "They did go on some rather long missions together, didn't they?" Laughing, he whispered the three words to me again before he strode out of our cell.
Over and over, men had taken her, one after another. At first she screamed, then she just laid there. I was forced to watch it all. Sometimes, she would be removed from our cell only to return, wild-eyed and barely walking, abused almost beyond comprehension, beaten and bloodied. She would then be strapped right back down, untreated and staring into space, waiting for the next group of men.
I wavered between wishing the baby was Rand's and that it wasn't.
Strapped down next to her, in front of me was my son. The animal would come with his infernal droid, smile at me and then his droid would hover near my son's arm with its slender, silvery projections and inject him with the hypo. Rand's eyes would glaze over and he would release Rand from his restraining bands. The first time this happened I had wondered what would occur next. I hadn't wondered the many times afterward.
Thus drugged out of his mind, my son had stripped himself of his clothing with a rapidity driven from lust. I hadn't seen my nearly full grown son naked since he had been a small child when I had bathed and dressed his small body. I was surprised at the form of the handsome young man he had become. I was horrified to see what he intended to do with his newly acquired manhood.
They didn't bother dressing Dallima anymore as this merely delayed their ravages of her. My son was atop her and in her quickly. Mere words cannot describe watching your naked son in the act of rape, witnessing his buttocks lunging back and forth and listening as he grunted in his movements into the girl that was in all ways save for the name, his sister. Dallima who had stopped screaming during her attacks long ago, did not stop this time until her voice gave out long after Rand had finished.
*** "Dallima?" he had asked when the effects of the drug had worn off. She did not answer.
The animal alternated between torturing the two, attaching wires and devices to their bodies which made them writhe in pain, screaming for relief hours on end or leaving them alone for interminable periods of time, immobile. I don't know which was the worse, their agonizing pain or the mind-numbing boredom which nearly sent the two to the brink of insanity.
Frequently, the two were kept from talking, their mouths gagged. This rare time they were not.
At these times, the two would talk, filling the hours with memories of better times that were or they hoped would come. They had not yet lost hope. I could only listen to their conversations, but they did try to keep me engaged, addressing me even though I could not reply.
"Dallima? Are you all right?" he had entreated. She resumed sobbing.
"Did they . . . Did they again?" Rand inquired. It was apparent to me that he did not know what he had just done under the influence of the drug.
"Dallima, talk to me. Are you all right?"
"Yes," came her soft response.
"What happened? I remember the droid and then . . . nothing."
Dallima cried louder. I could see the pain on my son's face.
"Dallima, I promise you, when I get out of here," he swore as he fought against the bands. "I will make them all pay for what they've done to you."
The young girl couldn't stand it any longer. "You," she said quietly. "It was you this time."
Horror washed across my son's face and he didn't say anything more.
It was some time before I realized my son had decided to break his oath to his father. By the time I noticed his silent actions of rubbing his wrists against the durasteel cuffs that held his arms, he had abraded through his skin and blood was seeping through.
Rand and his Master had been trapped, deceived by a traitor on a mission. His Master, bravely and nobly, had provided for his apprentice's escape, drawing the blaster fire to himself and sacrificing his own life for that of his Padawan. Rand made it safely back to the Temple returning to us, but he fell into the depths of despair over the loss of his beloved Master. He blamed himself for his Master's death rationalizing his mind that had he stayed, disobeying his Master's command to flee, and fought along side him that the both of them would have prevailed.
My husband had found our son locked in a refresher station in one of the many Temple gyms. Rand had slashed his wrists with a vibro-blade and was near death from the loss of blood. My husband had carried Rand's limp body cradled in his arms while running through the halls of the Temple in a rush to get to the healers.
"You coward!" my husband had yelled furiously at our son when we were at last allowed to see him. The healers had tried to intervene, but my husband ignored their pleadings. "How dare you? You are a disgrace to the Order," he had snorted in derision. "Your Master did *exactly* as he was duty bound and you . . . you, ingrate, demean his sacrifice!" Pacing back and forth in a rage, my husband crossed the floor with wide-spaced steps.
Rand had hung his head in shame.
"If you don't stop," one of the healers had warned my husband. "I will personally get one of the Council members."
My husband had spun around and flung his arm out pointing at the man. "Stay out of this! This is between my son and I."
"Right now," the healer persisted. "He is my patient and I must ask you to leave."
"Fine," my husband stated. He then strode over to Rand and yanked him out of the bed by one of his bandaged wrists. "I'll go. With my son."
Defiantly standing in the doorway the healer attempted to block my husband's removal of Rand from the room. With a thrust from his hand, my husband had Force-pushed the man across the room slamming him into a wall. "Go get the Council, all of them in fact. Wife, return to our quarters."
The healer and I had stood staring uneasily at each other as my husband hauled Rand away. We both knew his threat had been an idle one for the Council had far more pressing concerns these days and the healer could no longer afford the luxury of reporting the incident, he had far too many patients awaiting his care. Without a word he returned to his tending of the multitude of wounded. I obeyed my husband and walked back to our rooms.
Rand later related to me what had happened. His father had taken him to the creche. Mostly empty now, it yet held a few children. His father had stood there, silent, with his arms across his chest.
When Rand couldn't stand it any longer, he had asked, "Why did you take me here, father?"
"Which one?" was his answer.
"Which one, what," Rand inquired confused. "Father?"
His father swept his hand across the room as the creche Masters looked at the pair in wonder. "Which one doesn't become your Padawan?" He had pointed to a small girl and then to a boy. "Her? Him? Which one?"
Rand had swallowed hard. "Maybe . . . none of them should continue their training.
"What kind of thinking is that!" his father had yelled scaring some of the children.
"So . . . they won't have to go through what I did."
"Poor Rand," his father had said sarcastically. "No one has ever gone through what you did." He then nodded his head in agreement. "Yes, let's all avoid anything that is difficult, anything that causes us pain." He then put his finger to his chin as if thinking. "Let's see that path is called," his father stated calmly and then spat out, "SITH!"
***
Even though I could not talk I could grunt despite my lips having been sewn shut and I could move my lidless eyes. I did this to attract Dallima's attention to Rand's actions. She could only see him from the extreme corners of her eyes, while I could see fully his attempt at suicide once more.
"Rand?" she had asked while watching me communicate as best I could.
Continuing to gouge at the flesh at his wrists, he didn't answer her. Blood saturated his hands and covered red the durasteel cuffs that held his limbs in place.
"Rand, what are you doing? What has your mother upset?"
He maintained his steady small back and forth motions of his wrists, using up all of the few centimeters of space he was able to move. Pain was etched deeply on his face, but it was not from the physical pain he was causing to himself.
I grunted and shifted my eyes as furiously as possible. My son would not look at me.
"Rand! Answer me!" Dallima demanded. "What is going on?"
"I'm sorry, Dallima," he answered distantly as if he was already disconnected to this life. "So very, very sorry."
Comprehension dawned on Dallima's bloated and disfigured face. "Rand?"
Rand did not answer.
"Rand?! Don't do it. Please?! Don't do it. Stop. Don't leave me alone."
"I'm sorry," Rand said. "It won't happen again."
"Rand, it wasn't your fault. Please, don't leave me alone." She was in a panic.
Dallima was answered by silence.
"Rand, I don't blame you. It wasn't your fault. He made you do that. If I can live with it . . . so can you."
"How can you say that!" he yelled. He then calmed himself and repeated, "It won't happen again. Not ever."
She was silent for a while. Then she softly answered, "I don't care anymore. Just don't leave me alone. I'll go insane."
"I care," he stated firmly. "And maybe going insane isn't such a bad option in this madhouse. I promise you it will not happen again."
"Promise?" she stated with derision. "Promise? Just like you *promised* your father?"
This stopped Rand cold in his tracks. "How dare you bring up my father?" he had stated angrily. I knew he was still angry at his father's death, but he was angry also at having been trapped by his own words.
"He was my Master, too," Dallima added calmly. I knew Dallima had chosen her words carefully and knew exactly the impact they would have on Rand. When my son started weeping at the combined memory of the loss of his Master and then his father, Dallima relaxed the features on her face and shut her eyes. She had won.
Looking back, I wished I hadn't alerted her.
***
I had lain there trying to concentrate on the slow dripping of the fluid that kept my eyes moist. The pain with each contraction was intense, like never I had felt before for each time I had given birth previously, I had the comfort of the Temple healers.
The Temple healers and the Force.
Of all the things he had taken away from me, that was the worst. Oh, how I wished a could tear this collar off of me and hurl it across the room. I wanted nothing more than to feel the comforting presence of the Force surround me. I was lost without it. Take my sight, my hearing, take anything, but not my sense of the Force. I felt like I was a ship cast into space without any instrumentation, without any sensors, just drifting, going no where and no course to be set.
I didn't know how they worked, just that they did. The collars that the three of us wore set up a white noise background in the fabric of the Force effectively blocking it out. We could no longer sense the Force much less use it. I never felt so helpless or alone in my life.
As wave after wave of contractions racked my body, intense pain overwhelmed me. I cried out in my mind for my husband. I wanted him. By the Force itself, I wanted him. I wanted him so badly. Nothing ever hurt so much. It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. I didn't want to go through this alone. I wanted him here, now.
I could see Rand and Dallima twitching and straining against their fetters, hooked up to one of that animal's machines again. Oblivious to everything, but their own pain. No one came.
I wanted to scream, but I had no mouth.
I hoped against hope that this baby would be stillborn, like my first. But I knew . . . I knew. I pushed and I pushed hard.
My husband's third child was born.
My husband's and my child was born, slid off the metal table to which I was fastened . . . and fell to the floor.
I could hear its cries. Oh, how I could hear its cries. No one came.
When at last the Sithspawn came, he checked Rand's and Dallima's connections, making sure they were twitching sufficiently for him and then removed their feeding tubes. The animal switched between feeding tubes, letting them go hungry or allowing them to eat. He kept them unbalanced, never sticking to a pattern, everything he did seemed to be random, a timetable set by his own warped mind.
As a mother it warmed my heart when the pair was permitted real sustenance. As a person long denied the simple pleasure herself, it was pure unadulturated torture of the most basic sort.
After ensuring Rand and Dallima were in enough pain to satisfy him, he walked towards me.
"Tsk, tsk," he clicked with his tongue. "I really must have a talk with the cleaning crew." He picked up my baby by its feet from off the floor. "Leaving garbage like this on the floor!"
He started walking away, halted and returned to me.
"If you're curious," he said holding her up to me so I could see. "It's a girl. A sweet little girl." It was the first and last time I ever saw my baby.
For three days we were left alone. I wondered about my baby as I did my other daughter, Faeth. I had not seen her since we had been taken and I imagined all sorts of sordid tortures for my little girl. It was worse, far worse, than seeing what was actually done to my son and my husband's young Padawan. I hoped they both were dead and one with the Force far from this animal's cruel tortures.
No one came to clean me and the afterbirth soured, filling the cell with a putrid stench. No amount of water could ever clean away how filthy I felt.
On the fourth day, the door slid open. He walked in removed the wires from Rand and Dallima's bodies and left. Hours later he returned with food for them.
In this he never wavered. He would approach me first. Always.
Bending close to my ear he whispered the three words and then held the bowls under my nose. "Smell delicious?" he would ask as my mouth would salivate at the aroma of cooked food.
He allowed Rand and Dallima to sit up to eat while still fastened hard by their legs with the durasteel bands. Handing them the bowls, they ate greedily, their first food in over three days. I watched, once again enjoying it vicariously and enviously desiring it for myself.
This time, however, when he bent down to my ear before he left, he didn't say those dreaded, horrible three words to me. What he said was far different and far more chilling.
"I would wager you wish you had some?" he said as I agreed in my own thoughts with him. "See how they gulp it down? Must be tasty, hmm?"
He smiled broadly at me, his face an ocean of white teeth below his sea-green eyes and then bent down close to my ear again.
"I hope they enjoy it. For you see, sweet meat like that only comes around . . . oh, every nine months."
***
Rand and Dallima had made short work of their meals, finishing them even as the animal strode out of our cell.
As the door slid shut, my son dared to speak, his eyes, dark pools of the deepest sorrow. "Mom? Are you all right?"
I thought bitterly to myself that if I could laugh I would. Laugh and laugh hard. Snort in derision, in fact. For what did it matter? There wasn't anything he could do. It was a cruel thought, for my son would have exacted justice for every evil act if he was able. At least, for those which he was aware.
In many ways, Rand was his father's son. That same streak of desire to right any wrongs ran deep in the two, needing to be kept in check lest it explode into vengeance crossing the thin line between justice and revenge.
I often wondered whether it would have improved their relationship had Rand taken on more of his father's characteristics. Probably not. Easy going Rand had a difficult time living up to his father's impossibly high expectations. Not that Rand had any less honor or integrity than his father, it was just that his father demanded strict adherence to his own personal set of standards and Rand frequently came up short in his father's eyes.
Had my husband not been a Jedi, I fear that his portrayal of the arrogant, demanding Repinorith Lord would not have been far from the truth. Rand's personality differed from his father's in this and in my opinion his more humble attitude more closely reflected the ideal to which we hold ourselves up to comparison. In other respects, his more lax temperament was not the more noble path.
"Mom . . ." He did not know what to say. I had given birth and the baby was gone. "Was it a boy . . .?" He left off the remainder of his question.
We had worked out a system where I could respond with grunts to simple questions when they were left ungagged. After what I have just witnessed with my forever staring eyes, I did not want to share any knowledge that I had of what had happened. The two of them at the moment disgusted me. I knew with my intellect that they had done no wrong, it had been him, the animal. Emotionally, they were repugnant in my sight for what they had done. I remained silent.
Rand interpreted this to mean that I was still in shock over the birth and subsequent removal of my baby, his sibling, and didn't probe further.
Looking at Dallima and her growing belly with concern, he stated, "You will have to be brave. He'll probably take your baby, too. After . . ."
"I don't want it," Dallima stated without emotion.
Rand winced at her statement. "It could be mine."
Dallima placed a hand on her rounded stomach and snorted with derision. "Wouldn't be the first time."
A jolt ran through me at her statement. Rand had a child? With whom? When? I was a grandmother?
My son turned his face from her and glanced at mine before looking down.
Regret ran deep through her next words to him. "I'm . . . sorry Rand. That was cruel."
"That's okay." He breathed deeply and looked me in the face. "It is the truth. I'm sorry, mom. I should have told you and father, but I couldn't. She, it was a little girl, mom . . . My Master took her to a creche at one of the auxiliary Temples on another planet. He left the decision up to me. I'm sorry."
I was a grandmother . . .
They sat there in silence for a long time.
"What was it like?" Dallima at last asked.
Rand furrowed his dark brow. "What? The birth? I don't know I wasn't . . ."
"No," Dallima stated with a new found boldness. "The sex."
Rand expelled a puff of air past his lips and looked at her as if she had asked the most ridiculous question ever. For poor Dallima had been had by more men than a prostitute working in a deep spacer's cantina.
"With someone you love," Dallima clarified.
"You and Shen, never?"
"No," she answered as a matter of fact.
Sadness clouded over Rand's eyes. "You're asking the wrong person. I wouldn't know."
***
Not many weeks after I had given birth, the animal entered our cell with a distinct limp marring his normally proud stride. After completing his little ritual of whispering in my ear, he turned and slightly hobbled over to Rand and Dallima. I allowed myself to gloat over his injury and that is when I saw it.
Over the months, he had been adding to his collection of trophies that hung like a motley colored beard from his belt. I winced each time I noticed a new adornment to his gruesome attire. It represented two, for I knew the Master of the braid's owner would not have allowed it to be taken. At least while he was yet alive to protect his charge.
He had a new addition today. The pattern of beads strung amid the long dark hairs was unmistakable.
Dallima started hyperventilating.
The animal's eyes brightened with elation and his face broke out in a feral grin. "Recognize someone?" he inquired. He taunted her pulling out an amber colored braid. "This one?" He shook his head and then separated another from among the many. "This one? No?" He paused. He then pulled the newest addition from the rest and hung it over her face running across her features. "This one? Do you know this one perhaps?"
He pulled the gag from her mouth. Dallima screamed, "NO! No, no, no! Not Shen!" She sobbed uncontrollably, her body shuddering.
He played the braid over her face for a while, until he bored of it. Attaching it to his own sandy hair behind his ear, he said, "Shen, eh? Thanks, I didn't know this one's name." He laughed. "Shen, Shen, Shen," he chanted.
"Tell me did your *Shen* do this to you?" He shoved a finger into her and twisted it around. "Did you moan in delight when he did this?" He started to thrust his finger in and out of her. "Did he?" Pulling his finger out, he grabbed a handful of her pubic hair and yanked it out. Dallima's screams intensified.
Undoing his trousers, he grasped himself and stroked until he was hard. "Did your *Shen* do this? Did you watch? Did you get wet?"
He climbed up and positioned himself over her. "Did your *Shen* do this?" he asked as he thrust himself into Dallima. He humped her violently making sure the braid brushed across her face. "Did you enjoy it, Jedi Whore? Did you? What did he promise you to let him kriff you? What did he say? Did he say . . ."
***
Exiting the hovercab, my son had paid the driver the few credits for the fare and we had entered the bustling cavernous spaceport concourse. My husband arrayed in his ebon Repinorith Lord attire strutted before us like an exotic bird in full courtship display. He was magnificent. We followed in his wake, drab and unadorned.
I looked around the familiar building, recalling past visits. The joyful reunions after he had returned from perilous missions. The shared anticipation of off-world visits. The dreaded farewells of our son's departures. All flooded back to me. I knew every square centimeter of this building and never had I felt an interloper in it. I loved it and hated it, but never had it been a stranger to me as it was now.
We arrived early, our flight was some time from now. Taking my husband's cue, we sat down in a row of seats among those waiting for departing flights. We sat silently for a while, taking in our surroundings, not talking as he had instructed. As we waited, I felt the faintest fluttering of the Force deep inside me like a whisper.
"I don't like this," he said softly to me. "Something's wrong. Something's different."
We had pulled in our signature in the Force wrapping it tightly around us, shielding it. It was disconcerting being so blind, yet it was necessary if we were to succeed. I couldn't sense anything, but I trusted his instincts. He had not signaled me to say anything so I sat silent turning the durasteel braclet around on my wrist.
"Boy," he addressed our son. "Go see if our flight is on schedule."
Rand bowed with respect to his father and hurried to carry out his wishes.
I waited anxiously trying to keep myself calm, watching my husband sit there stoically. Little Faeth, our daughter fidgeted in her seat. My husband cast a meaningful glance at me. "Faeth, sit still," I admonished her. She complied, but looked at her father who gave her another cold hard stare. She placed her hands between her small legs, trying to make herself even smaller. Dallima stared straight ahead, looking at nothing.
Rand returned and stated, "Our flight is on schedule. The announcement to board should be made shortly." He sat down. Quietly, he said, "There are new devices."
"What new devices?" my husband asked.
"I don't know, but we have to go through them to reach the gates. And there are many soldiers."
My husband ran his hand over his head and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. He looked me square in the face. "Remember, get them on that ship. No matter what."
I nodded my head in agreement.
The public address system announced that our flight was now boarding. We stood and walked toward the gate. Behind my husband, I watched him saunter in splendor enjoying the sight of his body swaying. We trailed behind him, carrying our baggage.
There, before the gate was the ever present screening devices, the ones that detected anomalies in the gravitional pull, alerting the security force of the spaceport to hidden metallic objects, such as weapons. These we had accounted for.
Before these however, new machines had been installed and Imperial soldiers stood at the ready. My blood ran cold, fearing what these machines were designed to detect.
"What is the meaning of this!" my husband demanded. He waved his staff at the devices we were intended to pass through. "What is all . . . this."
The security guard monitoring the screen displaying the information from the device looked at my husband with a bored expression. "Just pass through."
"No," my husband countered. "I demand to know what this is all about."
The security guard shot his eyes towards the Imperial soldiers and then looked at the machines before answering my husband. "They project your image in the Force. Jedi detection devices. Just pass through."
"I never!" my husband protested loudly. "You think I'm one of THEM! How DARE you! I refuse." He indigently pulled himself up straighter.
"Everyone goes through," the guard informed him as the soldiers took notice.
"I won't. It is an insult. Do you know who I am?" my husband ranted as the soldiers drew closer and their hands fell to their blasters. "I demand to see your superior!" my husband continued in his tirade. "I won't be treated thusly. I'm Lord . . ."
The soldiers approached my husband with their blasters drawn and my world entered slow motion. Removing his lightsaber from the end of his staff with one rapid, sure motion, my husband had the violet blade ignited before they could react. With a sweeping infinity arc, the humming shaft of light melted through the detection device with a spray of sparks and sent a cloud of smoke into the air. Raising his lightsaber high, he brought it down into the machine's monitor, cleaving it through.
At that moment, he let his shields down and his presence in the Force expanded out rapidly, exploding outward like a sun gone nova. As the wave surged over me, I gasped in response to the brilliant Force shock as the crowds around did also, but theirs was in surprise over seeing a Jedi. A Jedi with his lightsaber in use.
My husband had his violet blade up defensively by the time the soldiers began to fire and the red bolts aimed at him ricocheted off it harmlessly as he rapidly batted them away.
It was now. We had to run for the gate now. He was giving us the distraction to escape and we had to act. I grabbed Faeth's hand, Dallima and Rand hurried behind us. As we did, I saw the soldiers from the other gates rush by us towards my husband.
As we were turning the corner, I paused, looking back. My husband was a circlestorm of motion, whirling and spinning, keeping pace with the red bolts shot toward him. More and more soldiers joined the fire fight. I knew in my mind that he was making his last stand, he couldn't keep that rapid pace up for long. I watched with morbid fascination.
I studied his every handsome feature and his massive towering form as his dark cape would first hug his body and then fly freely as he moved with grace and speed. I drank it all in knowing it would be the last time I ever saw him and I wanted the image of him at his finest hour etched in my mind.
The flutterings of the Force deep inside me that I felt before returned, more strongly now and I knew his seed had taken hold within me. I was carrying his child.
His instructions had been specific. He made them perfectly clear, but when I felt the new life growing inside me and seeing him fighting for his life, providing an escape for us, his family, I ignored them.
I sent him three little words straight from my mind into his.
Two people turned to look at me.
One was a sandy head with sea-green eyes. His face curled into an smile like a hunter pleased that he had his quarry within his sights.
The other was my husband's dark braid-bedecked head and as he stared at me with shock and horror, it was this image that cauterized itself in to my brain, never to leave me. Distracted, red blaster bolts began to find their mark on his body and he fell.
For I had disobeyed him, sending a telepathic message. Three little words. Three little words that I had never before felt so deeply - //I love you.//
My husband's sacrifice had been for naught.
The End.
