To Cut the Sky: Second Phase - The Waxing Quarter (c. 9)

Vaguely, she recalled jouncing along as she was carried, just before whatever she had been dosed with took its full effect on her and she was kicked away into the blackness that was the back of her mind.  And that place wasn’t somewhere that she generally liked to be - since that evening four years ago she’d had issues with sleeping - she tended not to do so until she faced collapse.  Even then her periods of rest were plagued by nightmares and terrors that wouldn’t leave her be until she woke screaming.

Such was the first instance in which she awoke after being forced into the slumber she despised.  The images and sensations of being strangled and hung with shadows and ashy, tarry goo that seemed to be just more shadows were driving her mad.  In a way, she knew it wasn’t real, but the dying part of it all was certainly convincing. 

The twine of living blackness dropped her to choke on the ground, and within moments the liquid darkness had slithered over her and was prying.  It wanted everywhere - into her eyes, nose, mouth, ears...everywhere.  She couldn’t do anything about her ears - but she closed her eyes, clenched her teeth and lips, and plugged her nose.  The final hand she used to swat at the stuff as it formed tendrils with which to assault her defences.  It was hard - she couldn’t see what she was hitting at.

Her lungs burned for air...

Finally, she had to pull her hand away, mouth wide as she sucked in a great gasp of air.  Or, rather, tried to - it was nothing but inky, filthy black that ran into her lungs, and she choked, falling to her back.

And she kept falling, the shadows following her and continuing to suffocate her.  She screamed-

-and quite suddenly her arm connected with something solid, and an angry snarl met her ears.  Her eyes popped open, and she took a breath, suddenly realizing that the dream had fled.  The nightmares had gone.

And there were a pair of angry, vicious yellow eyes glaring her in the face.  She wilted, trying to push away, and discovered rather quickly that her limbs were numb and leaden, unwilling to move for her.  Whatever drug had been foisted into her system was doing its job very well.

Not quite well enough, however, judging by the look on the face of the shadow figure hovering over her.

A strangled squeal of terror escaped her throat as he moved, a hand closing on her wrist, and turning it.  The glint of hair-thin steel caught her eye and she struggled frantically as the needle tip zipped in.   She shook her head madly as she felt it kiss her skin, and the smile that he bore as the steel bit and poisoned her was sickening.  Wait, maybe that was the drug...the drug...that was...that was...mak...ing...her sleeeep...

The shadows rushed down her throat again as she was dragged howling back into the nightmare that seemed to have waited just at the edges of her mind, looking for the opportune moment to strike.  They’d found it.

Her howl was drowned into a strangled gurgle.

***

“For krif’s sake, what was that about?!”

The man just shook his head, wiping a hand across his brow and flicking the needle from his fingers into a sharps container.  The metallic clatter seemed to bring everything into sharp relief as he looked from the woman at the helm of the ship and to the only-barely younger woman lying in nightmare-stricken stupor on a folding bunk.  Vul didn’t know which of the two was worse - the naive little brat or the smart-mouthed wretch.

Sighing, he moved away from the drugged Tara, taking his spot in the pilot’s chair of the little freighter that the three were aboard.  The girl at the co-pilot’s spot was tall, and almost overly muscular.  Somehow, though, she carried herself with a bit of grace, and handled the controls with an easy familiarity that destroyed the clumsy image she possessed otherwise.  Her physique fooled many into thinking she was simply a stupid working doxy.

Right.

Dialling the coordinates into the nav computer for the jump to hyperspace, she placed the program on hold, and then keyed in the thrusters.  There was a rumbling hum that became a dull roar, and Vul gripped the armrests as the little ship blew its way from the undergrowth of the planet, arching skyward.  They’d be gone before the Jedi even realized that the girl was out of her room.  Within moments they were through the atmosphere, and the dots of stars greeted his eyes.  He sighed contentedly.

“Frey, put us into hyperspace.”

“Yes, my Master.”

He waited until they were within the safety of starlines before he rose from his seat, returning to the rear of the cabin to check on the girl.  The last dosage of the drug had put her under for a paltry half hour at best, likely not even that long, and she’d been up and trying to fight him all too soon.  The first shot should have knocked her out for days, and hadn’t.  The second shot had been roughly five times the first, guaranteeing at least a few hours of rest, and hopefully working properly this time.  He’d set the calibration for a human female of roughly her size and height, and it had done next to nothing.

He’d no idea why, but he hardly cared as long as she stayed under this time.

The constant twitching of her form as her head lolled back and forth on the mattress concerned him.

“She’s going to be a problem,” came the voice of Frey from beside him “And you know it.”

“Yes, but her sensitivity ought to make up for it.  I’ll just bring her back to the order, and then they can give her to someone.”

The blonde-haired woman grinned.  “For breaking?”

“Yes, for breaking.  And then for retraining.”

“How much did the Jedi manage to get into her head?”

“I don’t know.” he mused, lips pursed against his knuckles.  “She was hiding in the force before I managed to find her.  For just a second she slipped in a moment of anger, and I was able to sense her, but other than that...”

“Hiding?”

“Some form of meditation, doubtless.  Meant to meld the user with the surrounding force.”

“Interesting.”

“Annoying is more like it.”

Frey just shrugged and moved up close, her nose only inches from Tara’s face as she inspected the girl.  “Does she have a blade?”

“If she does she doesn’t have it.”

“Ah.  Well, that makes it easier.  Harder to fight back.”

“But less entertaining.”

“True.”

Vul continued to watch her twitch with interest.  “I’m not sure what’s wrong with her...” he mumbled.  “Either she’s allergic to the drug or she’s having nightmares that would rival reality.”

“Pah,” she snorted “She’s weak.”

“And you’re cocky, my apprentice,” Vul replied with a sudden twist of anger “Go back to your station and stay there.”

Frey gave him a nasty glare, but turned on her heel and stalked away, her steps echoing metallically across the decking.  Shaking his head in irritation, Vul picked the limp form up again, slinging it over his shoulder as one might a rag-doll, and stumped in the direction of the cabins.  He didn’t feel like being in the proximity of the angry woman at the controls - she was too much of an annoyance when she became angry.

He couldn’t wait til she decided it was time to take control - he’d relish killing her for her arrogance.  He would make it slow.

Depressing the switch with his hip, he pushed his way in and deposited her on the bunk.  She twitched violently, and then went still.  Her skin was deathly pale, though the force was telling them that her vitals were perfectly fine, albeit a bit panicked.  There was nothing wrong save the dreams. 

Perhaps they’d do part of the job of breaking for him.  He’d have to remember to tell the order that...if he felt gracious.  Such rarely happened.  Let them discover the weakness of the prey on their own, if they were so glorified.  Corrupt old bastards, and useless to boot.

At any rate, that wasn’t the issue for the time being.

The door hissed shut behind him with a click of the lock engaging, and she was alone again, nothing but shadows, dark, and more shadows...

***

“Does she have a name?” Frey asked as her master restationed himself in the pilot’s chair, staring at the starlines. 

He simply shrugged.  “I would assume so, though I’ve no idea what it is.”  He paused, momentarily, thinking about it.  “I really don’t care, one way or another.”

She giggled softly.  “Names are identities.  So much easier to kill a nameless mind.”

“Indeed...how long?”

“Another few hours and we’ll drop out of hyperspace, master.”

“Another few hours and we’ll drop right out of the universe.”