Will Of The Force

"Hey, Valo," Vialla Janson asked the bartender, "You ever seen that girl in the corner before?"

He shrugged. "Can't say I have, Via."

"What did she ask you about?"

"Not sure I can recollect," he said, "But perhaps you could help refresh my memory."

She grabbed his outstretched hand, which was reaching for her right headtail, and twisted it. "I told you, Valo, you ain't my type. Now keep your hands to myself and answer my questions before I book you."

He winced under the pain. "Okay, fine, just let go!" The Twi'lek woman released him. "She ordered a glass of Whyren's and asked me if there was someplace she could stay without having to show ID."

"What did you tell her?"

"I gave her the address of Fazzo's Bed and Breakfast. Why are you so interested? Planning to give her a morning surprise?"

"No, I'm not interested in her that way," Vialla said. "I've received some intel on her, and if it's right, she's my ticket to an early retirement."

"How so?" he asked.

"Not that it's any of your concern, but the Chanc--er, Emperor, would really like her." She patted his shoulders. "You just keep doing what you're best at: serving drinks."

"Heartless yellow-skinned bitch," Valo muttered answered as she followed her target out the door.

As Vialla trailed her, she reviewed the information she'd been given on her datapad. Her target was a human female, twenty years old, with light skin, blue eyes, and red hair, by the name of Drella Vax. She was rather attractive, not unlike the women that Vialla often invited to her apartment for a little diversion. She wore a black leather jacket, a white shirt, and navy blue pants--a rather common arrangement amongst city-dwelling Corellians. She was considered extremely dangerous, so Vialla had been advised to use extreme caution. That didn't bother her, since she had four years of CorSec training under her belt. She took a right turn after the first block, and Vialla continued after her. The Twi'lek turned on her sound-dampening belt and sped up, determined to get the drop on her. As soon as she got within two meters, her prey sped up as well. It was her loss; Vialla knew the streets of Coronet off the back of her hand, and her quarry was headed to a dead end.

When she finally realized that she had walked into a narrow alley, she stopped, and turned to face her pursuer. "Drella Vax," Vialla said, flashing her holobadge, "You are under arrest. Please hand over any weapons on your person and give yourself over to my custody."

"I have no quarrel with you, CorSec," she spoke in a haughty Coruscant accent, "But I will not allow you to turn me over to the Empire."

The Lieutenant drew her blaster and laughed. "Cute, but you're in no position to negotiate."

She gave a wave of her hand. "You will let me go on my way."

Vialla laughed again. "No, I don't think so."

She waved her hand again, and spoke more forcefully. "You will let me go on my way."

Vialla stepped closer to her. "Stop kriffing around. You're coming with me."

In one swift motion, she reached into her jacket and pulled out her lightsaber, which had a green blade. The CorSec officer fired at her legs, hoping to cripple her, but the bolts bounced off her blade and lodged themselves in the walls nearby. This was a defense tactic she'd heard of, so naturally she was prepared; she dropped her blaster and pulled out her riot stick, which had a cortosis weave, making it impervious to lightsabers. The Jedi brought her saber down on the officer, but she easily blocked it. Using a grapple thrust, she knocked the weapon out of her opponent's hands. Now that the Jedi was visibly disarmed, Vialla tapped into her lessons in Bor Degga, the martial art taught to all CorSec officers in which one is taught to think that your opponent has several weapons on her that you can't see, and she will readily use any of them to kill you; she grabbed the woman's arms, twisted them behind her back, tripped her, pushed her to the ground, and sat on her to ensure minimal resistance. "This would've been a lot less painful if you had just cooperated." She slapped a pair of binders over her wrists.

"Why are you helping the Emperor?" the Jedi asked.

"Because he has promised to bring stability to the Galaxy," Vialla answered, picking up her blaster and holstering it.

"In a few months, you will regret having helped him in any capacity."

"Is that a threat, little Jedi?" the Twi'lek asked. "Threatening an officer of the law is a serious offense, you know." She slapped her rear just to show her who had the real authority in their situation.

To Vialla's surprise, the Jedi seemed unruffled. "It's not a threat, it's a warning. The Emperor cares for nobody but himself."

The officer pulled her to her feet by her binders. "Spare me the political talk. Making laws ain't my department. I just carry 'em out." As Vialla pulled her up, her thumb brushed the Jedi's. She wouldn't normally have noticed, but when they touched, she felt something strange; it was as if a wave of calm and trust washed over her. Though she couldn't figure it out, her urge to turn the Jedi over to her higher-ups had disappeared. "Act normal," she said, walking behind her and to her side. Vialla directed her through the streets, through a bus ride, and finally back to her apartment, all the while doing what she could to disguise the fact that she was her prisoner. When they arrived, Vialla locked the door and removed her binders. "You'll be safe here. It's illegal to search the living quarters of a CorSec officer without a warrant."

"But it's perfectly fine if they're a civilian, right?"

"Hey," Vialla grabbed her lightsaber, which she had obviously tried to pull to herself with her powers, "You should be showing me a little more gratitude, Jedi. There's a bounty on your head. That bartender had no qualms telling me you were staying at Fazzo's, and with that information alone I could have arrested you."

Drella sat on the couch. "Do you really expect me to believe that you're helping me purely out of the kindness of your heart?"

Vialla walked into the kitchen and poured a cup of tea. "What does it matter what my motivation is?"

"Motivations guide actions," she said, "The two are intertwined, and inseparable. You cannot fully determine either without knowing both."

She laughed again. "Jedi talk, huh? I always heard that you people spoke in riddles." Drella didn't take the tea when she offered, so she drank a sip to show her it wasn't drugged. "Well, you have psychic powers, don't you? Go ahead, probe my mind. See if I intend to turn you in."

She held the cup in her hands, and closed her eyes. Vialla felt as though there was a foreign presence in her mind, searching her. Apparently, this was one story of Jedi abilities that hadn't been made up (though Vialla was sure most of them were). "No, I don't detect any deceit from you, which is surprising."

"So," Vialla said, "Does that mean you'll just shut up and accept that I really want to help you?"

"Are you always this nice to the people you arrest?"

"Do you always answer questions with a question?"

"Does that bother you?"

"Real funny," Vialla muttered. "And here I kept hearing that you Jedi don't have a sense of humor. Sheesh, all the Jedi in the galaxy are being exterminated, and I end up with their only comedian."

"I do what I can," she said, finishing her tea. "In the meantime, what will I be doing?"

"You'll stay here," Vialla instructed. "Corellia isn't the safest place to go if you're a fugitive. I'll book you anonymous passage to Nar Shaddaa. It's a filthy, crime-ridden place, but the Empire will never find you there as long as you keep a low profile."

"When can I leave?"

"It'll take me at least three days to find you a seat on a freighter, even with my connections. Until then, you can stay here. Help yourself to anything in my kitchen, and feel free to use my 'fresher any time you'd like."

She handed Vialla her tea cup. "Could I please have my lightsaber back? I feel naked without it."

"Certainly not," the officer said, putting it in her safe. "And don't even think of prying the code out of my mind. It's useless without my fingerprints, DNA, and electromagnetic signature." She removed her uniform and hung it on her chair. "Is there anything else you need?"

"Just two things," she said. "I need some peace and quiet for my meditations." She paused.

"And?"

She looked up at her captor. "I need to know your name."

"What for?"

"I can't just call you 'officer' all the time. What is your name?"

She hesitated briefly. "Vialla. Vialla Janson."

"That doesn't sound like a Twi'lek name," Drella observed.

"It's not. It's a Corellian name that I chose for myself."

"How did that happen?"

Viall saw no harm in indulging her, so she sat down next to her on the couch. "My parents came here illegally. I was born a few months after they arrived, so I was automatically made a citizen. About the time I was ten, they were deported back to Ryloth, but I was left behind. The only way I could survive was by joining a street gang. After I'd been with them for a while, a CorSec officer named Varl Janson arrested me. He took me under his wing, got my record cleaned, and got my life back on track. Since my parents had abandoned me, I didn't care for my original name at all, so I took on his surname, since he treated me like a daughter. He died trying to bust a spice ring a few years later, so I swore I'd become an exceptional officer in his place."

"You're very good at your job," Drella said, "I'm sure he would be proud of you. Not many sentients can best a Jedi in hand-to-hand combat."

The Twi'lek tilted her head. "You don't look much like a Jedi."

"How do you mean?"

"I expected people who lead lives of solitude to be more...you know, plain," she ran a finger down her ear, and got the same strange feeling she'd had when she was handcuffing her. She felt a lot more comfortable with the idea of leaving her alone in the apartment. "You're a lot prettier than your picture. I bet you had guys clamoring all over you."

"Not really. The sight of my lightsaber kept them at bay."

"What a shame," Vialla said, "Beauty like yours being wasted."

"Romantic attachments are fraught with emotion," the human said in an almost droid-like manner, "And emotion clouds judgment and confounds logic. Excessive emotion can lead to the Dark Side."

Vialla moved her fingers down to Drella's jaw. "Are you sure you can't make an exception...for just one night? I won't tell any of your Jedi buddies if I run into them."

"Yes," she pushed her hand away. Vialla lowered it, not wanting to offend her guest. "Every step you take towards the Dark Side pulls you in deeper, and twists your soul. Jedi must be especially cautious, because in the hands of a trained Force user such as myself, the Dark Side is truly dangerous."

"Well," Vialla shrugged, "I won't kick you out for resisting me. Just know that you're really missing out."

"You never give up, do you?" Drella pulled her legs onto the couch, crossing them. "If you'll excuse me, I need to begin my meditations."

The officer walked over to her bedroom door. "Well, good luck centering yourself or listening to the Force or whatever it is you do."

"Sleep well, Vialla," the Jedi said.

Vialla stepped into her bedroom, not looking at her captive again. Nobody had called her by her first name since Varl.

That night, she dreamt about him. She felt him pulling the blaster out of her twelve-year-old hands, putting the binders on her wrists, and throwing her into the back of his speeder. She remembered the runs he put her through during her training. She saw the tears in his eyes and his smile when she graduated from CorSec Academy, and relished the warm, fatherly hug he gave her. Then, she felt him collapse into her arms, a smoking wound in his chest, never to move again. She saw his killer: a raggedy Weequay carrying a red blaster. She chased him through the streets, never catching him. She ran, even when she lost track of him; she ran until it felt her legs had turned to lead. This, with sight variations, was a dream she had every month, and it never ended well.

She woke up the next morning, feeling empty; Drella was still sitting on the couch in the same position as when Vialla had left her. "Hello," she said, not opening her eyes. "Did you sleep well?"

"I didn't, if you must know," she said, pulling a dehydrated meal out of her pantry. "I had the same nightmare I've been having for years."

"Perhaps I can help you resolve that nightmare," Drella said, standing up.

"No thanks," Vialla said, putting some water into my breakfast and heating it. "I had a therapist already. Besides, I hate being indebted to people."

"It's hurting you," the Jedi insisted, "It's distracting you from your job. Do you really not want my help?"

"I don't," Vialla insisted. "I'd just like you to stay here until I can get you off the planet."

"If you say so."

At work, Vialla received a call she'd been dreading. It was from somebody that everybody in the galaxy recognized. He wore a black mask and breathed heavily. He spoke in a deep, distorted, chilling voice. "Progress report, Lieutenant," his hologram said.

"O-on what, sir?"

"You know full well: the Jedi whose information I gave you. Did I not instruct you to hunt her down?"

A shiver ran down the Twi'lek's spine, and she concocted a lie. With how easily Drella had read her, she was grateful that her training had taught her to fool a lie detector. "I encountered her in the streets and pursued her, but she escaped. Tonight, I will redouble my efforts, and use every resource at my disposal."

"I hope you do, for your sake," he said. "The Emperor wants all Jedi dead, and he is not patient. Do not fail me again, Lieutenant."

"Of course not, sir," Vialla said, saluting him. As soon as the hologram shut off, she dropped her brave façade and began panting heavily, feeling that she had just had a brush with death.

The encounter with him had left her so shaken that she could barely focus for the rest of the day. She left several reports half-finished, sat on her lunch, and jumped at the slightest touch from a co-worker. After she changed her pants and finished a report, Captain Tharen dismissed her early.

When she arrived at her apartment, Drella was sitting on the couch with her eyes closed as a dish in the sink appeared to be cleaning itself. "Your thoughts are disturbed," she said as Vialla hung her jacket on the chair.

"It's nothing," the officer said.

The dish floated out of the sink, dried itself off and flew into the cupboard. "I have offered to help you resolve your issues. My offer still stands."

"No, thank you!" Vialla practically yelled at her. "I don't need your Jedi kark, and I told you, I don't want to be indebted to anybody!"

"You won't be indebted to me," she stood up and walked over to Vialla, "Jedi are obliged to help people, and ask for nothing in return." She grabbed the Twi'lek's hand. "Please, allow me to fulfill my duty."

Something about the Jedi seemed to calm Vialla, and she walked over to the couch with her. "Okay. You can try." They sat cross-legged, facing one another.

"Do as I do." Drella put her hands on Vialla's temples and touched their foreheads together. In that instant, Vialla felt herself pulled into a tunnel of light. All matter seemed to disappear, and she could not tell herself apart from the Jedi. Her feet landed on something solid, and the streets of Coronet materialized around her. There was somebody lying on the ground nearby. Vialla walked slowly to him, dreading the sight. Sure enough, it was Varl, blaster wound and all. Her fists clenched in rage. "You blame yourself for what happened," Drella's voice came.

"Y-yes," Vialla choked out. "If...if I'd gone out on patrol with him instead of getting a drink...he'd still be alive."

"Do not continue to blame yourself," Drella instructed. "Time flows as a continuous line. Each decision we make is part of that line. There are infinite possibilities for alternatives. Dwell on them, and you will lose sight of the present. You cannot change the past, but you can change the future."

"Still," Vialla said, "I'd like to get whoever did this to him. That's the only way I can be at peace."

As if on cue, the weequay who had killed her adoptive father appeared. He would not get away this time. As she had done so many times before, Vialla gave chase to him. Her legs felt lighter than usual, and it was only a matter of time before she overtook him and knocked him to the ground. She drew her blaster, pressing the barrel against his chin. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Drella's voice asked.

"I am," Vialla growled. "He killed Varl! He deserves to die."

"Will killing him bring the man who cared for you back to life?"

It should have. By all the gods of the galaxy, it should have. But Vialla knew the truth. "No. It won't." It was a fact, and no amount of denial would change it.

"If you kill him, your anger towards him will not be sated. You will spend the rest of your life grieving your surrogate father. Only when you forgive his killer will your heart be at peace."

Her teeth grinding, Vialla fought back the tears welling up underneath her eyelids. The weequay looked frightened out of his wits. She lowered her blaster and let go of him. "Get your ugly face out of my sight."

The weequay ran, never looking back. "Revenge never solves all problems. It solves only a few, and creates many more," Drella said. The world around Vialla faded.

Vialla opened her eyes and found Drella clutching her head by the temples. "Thank you," she said, "I feel strangely better after that."

"You have learned a lesson that many never learn," the Jedi answered.

"Again, thank you," Vialla looked into Drella's eyes. A moment as emotionally invested as this one was the perfect opportunity. "You're...so beautiful," she put a hand on the human's cheek, "So very beautiful." She leaned in and planted a kiss right on Drella's mouth.

Drella wanted to resist. Love was the most dangerous of all emotions. Sure, it could lead to kindness and compassion, but it could also lead to jealousy and hatred, which were the fast track to the Dark Side. Her Jedi logic, for all its shouting, could not drown out her heart. Nobody had ever expressed such an interest in her before. True, she was a Jedi, but she was also a woman, and she had a woman's needs. The only thing she had ever kissed before was the inside of her own elbow. She threw all caution to the wind and leaned in, pushing her tongue into her mouth and lightly stroking Vialla's head-tails. Feeling the officer shudder with pleasure underneath her touch excited her, and she reached down, removing Vialla's undershirt.

Vialla pulled away briefly as Drella stroked her breasts. "Not here. Let's do it in my bedroom." She grabbed Drella's hand and led her in. It was only a matter of seconds before both women were naked and under the sheets. Vialla explored Drella's nether regions with her tongue. Every time she brought home a new woman (or, on rare occasions, a man), she wanted to find out their individual taste. Drella's was a nice blend of sweetness and saltiness, with just a bit of tart.

Drella felt her entire body getting hot. She had never known pleasure like this before. Was this what her masters had denied her? How dare they! There was no danger here, as she didn't run the risk of pregnancy, and she certainly wasn't exploiting Vialla. What could the hazard possibly be? Soon, her mind became empty, as it usually did when she was meditating; instead of serenity, though, she felt pleasure as her thighs twitched uncontrollably against the Twi'lek's head. So absorbed was she in this new sensation that she didn't notice Vialla climbing up until she kissed her. It was strange, tasting herself on the other woman's lips.