I don't own Star Wars. Also- this is my first submission. Comments are always appreciated.
He woke up to harsh, bright white light in his eyes.
Where was he? The last thing he remembered- blasterfire, screams, that smell that no one ever forgot- plasma-burned corpses on a battlefield. He'd been fighting.
Storve had died. He remembered that. A red blade, burning ruby-bright, fueled by the hatred of its wielder, had taken his master's hand and then head, sending the sizzling body spinning to the snow.
Sith. He'd been fighting Sith.
Of course he had- they were at war. Who else would he have been fighting?
He wasn't thinking straight. His head ached, but it wasn't that, he didn't think.
The light dimmed, and now he could make out the room he sat in. Rough grey permacrete- and nothing else. A drain set in the center of the floor, right in front of him. Brown material, crusted on the durasteel. Blood.
He was barechested, barefoot; he tried to stand, and found himself shackled to the chair he was sitting on, hands bound to its back, legs to its legs. Captured, then.
By who? The last thing he remembered was Storve's body falling, his killer turning towards him. A monstrously big human male, crimson facial tattoos, clad in rough-beaten metal armor- Carnifex, their target, who had apparently earned that pretentious name. But after that, nothing.
Something creaked behind him. A door opening, it sounded like. Then footsteps, clicking on the permacrete, getting closer and closer. Long-nailed fingers caressed his neck.
"Are you feeling all right?" a voice asked, female, clear, its tone conversational. He didn't answer, didn't even try to look around.
There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is-
A white-hot pain burned through his mind and body; he'd have screamed, but his body seized up involuntarily, jaw locked. A moment later he came back to himself, to the permacrete room.
The other being was in front of him now. Human female, skin pale, black hair short and messy. Her face was attractive, in a sort of angular way, cheekbones sharp, black-painted lips small. Yellowed eyes- Sith, then, or some sort of dark sider. She wasn't wearing the typical dark Sith robes, although it wasn't like that Order kept its dress code; instead she was clad in tight leggings, a loose shirt, and a beaten nerfhide jacket. Her right ear was pierced with three rings of equal size, and she had a small geometric tattoo on the side of her neck. In her right hand she hefted a stun baton- that had been the source of the pain.
She was giggling, a girlish sound that didn't quite belong in this particular place. After a short moment to regain her composure, she waved her left hand. "Sorry. You just looked funny like that."
He didn't say anything again, dropping his gaze to the floor at his feet. Her own booted feet came into view, right next to his own; the stun baton went beneath his chin, and she lifted his head back up.
"Come on, do you need another shock? Can we at least be civil here? I'll start- my name's Maeve. Nice to meet you." she said, a faux-friendly smile on her face.
He looked into those yellow eyes again. Maeve. He'd heard that name before. Right before they'd dropped onto the snowy mountains of Alderaan to fight, before they'd met that monster Sith and his men- she'd been in the briefing.
Apparently tiring of his refusal to answer, she jolted him again, a light one this time. "You're Padawan Vonn Gerrik. Your master's- well, was- Storve. You were born on Brentaal, taken by the Jedi at age three Standard. You're up for your Trials soon- congratulations- and you were in the first of three drops to try and stop us around House Antilles."
Try. So the Sith had succeeded? Or was she just trying to get him to think that?
"So you know my name. Fantastic." he said, trying to keep his voice even. Kriff, he did
not
like the fact that he'd been captured.
Maeve laughed again, the sound echoing weirdly in the room. "Well, there's that. And about the naval task force coming in to back you up tomorrow... look, we've already questioned you, drugs and the Force, all that- which is why I was asking if you were okay, those things'll scramble your brain, but let's forget about my politeness for now- so this isn't about getting you to give up intelligence or any of that. Got it? I'm just here to chat." She squatted down, putting her cheery smile right up close to his face. "So let's do that."
Vonn shrugged, trying to keep his sabacc face, to conceal his reaction to what she apparently knew. That task force had been
incredibly
secret. Picked beings made up the crew, and no one else had known aside from the Jedi on the mission. She'd drugged him. She'd kriffin'
drugged him
and he'd given his people up, if she was telling the truth.
Stay calm, Vonn, the Sith is lying to you.
"What are we chatting about, then?"
"You. Your fate." She tapped the stun baton on his thigh, mercifully deactivated.
"And what, pray tell, do you mean by that?" Sarcasm- a defense mechanism, more than anything.
"Well, you're a Jedi, we've gotten what we need out of you. So, option one- blaster bolt to the back of the skull, I dump you with the rest of 'em."
Vonn smiled at that. "Yeah, I don't think I like option one. Is there an option two, or even three?"
That smile on Maeve's face widened, and got a little...
predatory
. "Why,
yes
."
She got closer, uncomfortably close. "So. what's it like being a Jedi? All that
control
. And is it true about the... celibacy?" Her other hand, the one without the stun baton, crept up on his inner right thigh, and suddenly Vonn became
very
uncomfortable.
There is no passion, there is serenity. No passion-
She must have felt him tense, both with her hand and with the Force. "Do I take that as a
yes
, then?" That hand inched just a bit further. "I can't imagine how you survive."
No passion, serenity.
"Self-control." Why did he feel compelled to answer?
"So you free yourself from your...
needs
?" Her hand moved up- and stopped suddenly, on the bulge forming in his trousers. "
Oh.
No, it doesn't seem like it, does it?"
No. Kriffing. Passion.
"Self-control, like I said." Skrag, he was even lying to himself. Her hand was moving ever so slightly; Vonn tried to regulate his breathing.
"Why restrict yourself like this?" She gripped him firmly, slender fingers wrapping around his stiffening member. "Could have a lot more fun without the arbitrary
control your emotions
poodoo."
Was she trying to turn him? Kriff, she was. "Are you trying to seduce me?"
Maeve rolled her eyes. "Do all Jedi come this stupid? What do you think?"
"I won't turn." He was breathing hard now, way too much effort taken up in fighting it.
Her shoulders lifted and fell in a languid shrug. "Well, that's fair, I guess. Still, no sense killing a nice guy like you, not without a quick fuck..."
He felt himself throb against her hand and couldn't help but let a low gasp out. She chuckled. "You like that, huh? Picturing yourself making me scream?"