Home Fiction Adult Fiction Art Mail List Staff Links

The Sith Lord and the Scientist Section C - Part 2

Imperial Center, Coruscant system, Month 4.

DAY 35

***

It has only been a week since that day at Bast Castle, a week since we decided to try saving our marriage.

It has not been an easy five days.

Despite everything I have done, every attempt to make amends, Maia still doesn’t trust me at all. I can see it in how she watches me, in her wariness when I get that tiniest fraction too close, to within striking distance of her, and in how she protects our son, how she refuses to let me touch him. And I hear it in her voice.

I suppose a week is too short a time to see any difference in that, and she has little reason to ever trust me again. But I wake, every morning, each new day, hoping to see some change, hoping she will one day be mine again.

Patience and our bond will eventually bring her back to me, I remind myself. I will just have to be tolerant and wait. It is all I can do.

My helmet locks in place, so I trip the mechanism to open my pod. I miss sleeping in my bed, miss having her in my arms, her warm body next to mine, but Maia has made it very clear that is a privilege I will have to earn. No matter. I have had my share of solitary nights in here, too.

I have adapted to the constraints she has set around herself.

Maia’s busy with Mikal. I can hear her singing a silly song from her homeworld to him. It’s about mice getting their tails chopped off and sounds rather gruesome, but our son is laughing as she goes through the motions which accompany the words. She looks up from him, towards me, when I knock on the wall next to the door to let her know I want to come in.

I won’t intrude on her space, don’t enter without her permission.

Today I need to ask for her help.

‘Good morning, my Lady,’ I greet her.

‘Good morning, my Lord,’ she replies in kind.

This has become our usual first exchange of the day.

It is nowhere near as satisfying as her kisses were.

I step into the dining area, settle myself in a chair and look around. Mikal’s toys are in a box to one side, paper copies of the books Maia insisted on getting for him are stacked on the table, and our son is busy on a blanket, doing his best to roll over onto his stomach. He squirms a bit, then starts fussing when his movements knock the toy he wants out of reach and over to me. When I go to return it to him, Maia gives me a sharp, warning look. I pull my hand back, disappointed and hurt, but not surprised, and watch her hand him the rattle herself.

For the first time, though, she doesn’t scold me verbally for breaking one of her rules.

***

He’s decided to visit us early today, I note as Ani signals his presence with a rap on the wall. I don’t like it when he simply comes in without asking, so he is careful to always let me know he wants in.

The Sith Lord seats himself and watches our son’s attempts to roll over. Mikal has almost got it. Tomorrow, he will have it, I think, and soon after, he will be trying to crawl. I reach for my tea and hear his rattle go flying. When I turn back, Ani is moving to retrieve it, so I instantly discourage my husband and give it to Mikal myself.

Ani knows better than to try that, knows I won’t let him ...

There is a quickly hidden sense of disappointment from my husband, and I can feel his hurt at being shut out. I consider that for a moment. Keeping Ani away from his son might be cruel, but I don’t trust him with Mikal. Can never trust him with Mikal. But I know that today he just wanted to return the rattle and intended no harm.

I don’t scold my husband for overstepping my boundaries.

‘Maia, I have been contacted by COMPNOR,’ Ani informs me, ‘and I don’t think I can put them off again. The Emperor is insisting that we pose for whatever holos they want.’

‘Propaganda shots,’ I decide, disgusted. ‘I don’t like being used for that.’

‘Yes, I know,’ he admits, ‘but we have little choice in this.’

He won’t risk angering his master by refusing. I also suspect Ani hasn’t told him about our strained relationship. Some things are best kept quiet. The Emperor might use it as an excuse to justify taking Mikal from us. And I trust the Sith Lord more with our son than I do Palpatine.

I sigh and nod my agreement.

‘I will do this,’ I concede, ‘just tell me what to do.’

***

Maia follows me out of the turbolift. COMPNOR has contracted one of Coruscant’s best holo-portraitists for this. He is waiting and all is ready for our session with him. I can tell my wife is not happy with having to expose Mikal to any publicity, but she knew this would happen sooner or later.

I stop outside the conservatory doors.

‘If you want this to go quickly,’ I warn her, ‘you will have to do what he suggests and co-operate without protest.’

I have had to endure several rounds of holos in the past and know what to expect.

Thirsk opens the door and I follow Maia in. She stares at the equipment which has been set up, but doesn’t say anything.

‘My Lord, my Lady,’ the holographer greets us, ‘my name is Saroyan.’

‘Let’s get this over with quickly,’ I growl at him, not wanting to waste any more time than I have to.

‘One can’t rush artistry,’ he scolds.

Maia rolls her eyes at that comment.

‘Where is the list of required poses?’ I ask.

I know what COMPNOR wants to have. Maia doesn’t, and she won’t be happy about some of them. He hands me a datapad. Nothing has been added, so I show it to my wife. She stiffens as she reads the screen, but doesn’t say a word in objection.

‘Shall we start with my individual holos?’ I offer.

That should put Maia at bit more at ease. She will see what is involved and have some time to prepare herself for the family shots.

The regular poses bore me a little. After years of doing this, shouldn’t someone have come up with something more interesting for me to do? I stand motionless, hands resting on my belt at my waist, waiting for the signal that the image has been stored. Maia watches from the bench beside the fishpond and makes a face at me.

‘Stop that,’ I order, shaking a finger at her.

The holocam, of course, takes a nice shot of me scolding her.

‘That’s pretty good, my Lord,’ she teases as the image pops up on the projector. ‘I think that’s one of your favorite poses.’

‘Wife,’ I growl at her. ‘Behave yourself.’

She just laughs at me. I let myself relax and smile at that. This is the first time she has really traded barbs with me in months and I have missed her humorous attempts to needle me.

‘Add that to the ones I want personal copies of,’ I tell Cyran, who is busy trying to not let her own amusement show.

I step off the holopad and wait for the ornate wooden chair to be moved onto it. There won’t be any individual holos taken of my wife. It would not be appropriate for her to appear alone in one which will be available for public distribution.

‘My Lady,’ I call to her.

She settles herself in the chair and allows Cyran to fuss about with her hair and gown. I can’t conceal Maia’s face any longer, but I suspect she will still cover herself when we attend court functions. It is a way she can hide from too close a scrutiny in public.

I step onto the holopad, stand behind the chair she is sitting in. Maia tenses when my fingers brush her neck as I rest my hands on the top of the chair back. Even in a safe setting, where I can’t really do anything, she’s afraid of my touch, afraid I might hurt her.

‘No, no, no,’ Saroyan scolds. ‘You are too stiff. You need to relax.’

He comes up to us and looks first at me, then Maia.

‘Try this,’ he offers, grabbing my hands and moving them to Maia’s shoulders. ‘You are supposed to look like you are married.’

My wife flinches at the feel of my gloves against her bare skin.

It’s alright, little goddess, I silently tell her, I won’t ever hurt you again.

I leave my hands where Saroyan has put them, continue to try calming Maia with quiet telepathic reassurances, and hiss at him in annoyance. The last thing I need is him making my marital situation any worse than it already is. He has the audacity to look a bit offended.

‘Well, if you want this to go quickly, you really should listen to my suggestions,’ he tells us.

I feel Maia relax a little. It takes a few seconds to realize that I have been slowly rubbing her back with my thumbs in an instinctive attempt to soothe her. As several holos are taken, I keep up the gentle pressure on her skin. She hasn’t asked me to stop or become angry about it, so I will continue until I am told not to.

The final few poses are of the two of us with her holding Mikal on her lap. Our son is a natural it seems. He smiles happily the entire time, doesn’t squirm too much, and giggles at Saroyan’s attempts to elicit a response from him.

While we wait for the most recent image to be projected, Maia turns a little, looks up from our son and smiles at me.

‘That’s it,’ Saroyan announces. ‘Everything is finished, my Lord. I’ve included all the shots you requested for personal use and added a few candid ones, too.’

I step off the holopad, take the datachip from his hand and watch Maia walk to the door, son in arms. Her presence is no longer required, so she has chosen to leave.

A few minutes later, I follow her.

The door into ‘her’ private quarters is closed and locked before I can catch up to her.

***

I lock the door after myself, set Mikal in his crib, and sit down on the bed to have a good cry.

After enduring Ani’s beatings, I half-expected his touch would burn me, leave an imprint seared into my flesh. But it didn’t. He was gentle, his caresses barely grazing my skin, as if he was afraid he would hurt me with even that light pressure. His touch felt good, like it did that first time he gently made love to me, and the longer his thumbs rubbed against my back, the more I wanted him to continue doing it - the more I wanted him.

I can’t take this, I decide. I can’t bear the pain of loving him, needing him, wanting him, and yet having to deny myself all that.

My eyes look down at my son.

You have to be strong for Mikal, I remind myself. You have to be absolutely certain that Ani loves you and won’t ever hurt you or threaten to harm your son again. That means you can’t afford to let your emotions run wild and blindly chase after some version of him you’ve conjured out of foolish hopes and wishful thinking. You need to know who he really is.

And that will take time.

The time we should have spent getting to know one another in the first place instead of rushing headlong into a relationship with no solid basis to sustain it.

I can’t hurry this, I sadly realize. As much as I love him, as much as I need him, I will have to take this slowly. It won’t be easy to get Ani to open up to me.

But if our marriage is to survive, I have no other choice.

***

I turn away, intending to go to my castle’s command center. Glancing down at the datachip in my hand, I decide to have a look at it, alone, instead of with Maia as I had planned. It takes a moment to power up the Holonet terminal and drop the ‘chip in the reader.

The first images are of myself. I skip through them, stopping at the one where I am standing, arm outstretched, finger pointed. Do I really look like that when I scold someone? It is almost comical.

No wonder Maia was laughing.

She looks stiff, uncomfortable in the first shot of us together, but in the ones which follow, she has relaxed. The holos with Mikal are entertaining. What a cute baby he is. If COMPNOR expected any serious expressions from my son, they will be disappointed.

The final holo is one I do not expect to see. Saroyan must have taken this one without telling us.

Maia has turned, tipped her head to look up at me. A gentle, sweet smile is on her lips. And her shining eyes have nothing but love for me in them.

I stare at that image of her for many long minutes.

This is the woman I married on Naboo, a woman who is still so in love with me that she cannot hide it from anyone, least of all herself.

A door slides open behind me. Light footsteps cross the floor, stop. She must be looking at the holo. There is a soft inhalation.

‘My Lord,’ she quietly tells me, ‘we really need to talk...’

***

The Executor, Fondor, Fondor System, Month 5.

DAY 20

***

I glance over at Piett while he works his way through the list of repairs and modifications that still need to be finished. Even with months of planning, testing, and field trials, there are still systems on board which do not function correctly or at full capacity.

Most of the problems have occurred in areas where inferior components were used in an attempt to cut costs. Retrofitting has proven to be more expensive than installing the correct parts would have been in the first place. And unfortunately the fools who changed the initial work orders and filled their credit chips with the difference are out of my reach at the moment.

It is all I can do to not let my frustration show.

‘Yes, Captain,’ I admit, ‘I know it will take four days for the environmental systems to be completely rebuilt.’

Four more wasted days.

I look at the next item on the agenda. New munitions have been loaded into several of the storage holds. Perhaps they need to be tested. It would be useful to see just what the latest series of atmospheric bombs can do. One of this system’s uninhabited moons can serve as a target, and the resulting pyrotechnic display should provide some entertainment...

***

Ani’s still in his daily meeting with Piett and the rest of the Executor’s senior officers. He’s probably annoyed at all the repairs that need to be made to his flagship, too. It seems every time one thing is fixed, something else goes wrong. At least most of the problems have been inconvenient nuisances rather than anything critical.

I try not to smile too widely. Hearing about the overly starched uniforms was quite funny, and so was the autochef which produced only bright pink milk. Rumors of stormtrooper armor painted with multi-colored polka dots made the rounds of the ship’s gossips, according to Cyran, but I never did see it for myself. Maybe the ‘troopers in question decided to stay out of sight until the particular repair ‘droid with that glitch was fixed.

At least nothing has gone wrong in Ani’s suite. The Sith Lord checked every system, every circuit in here himself. He refused to leave that task to anyone else.

I glance at my ‘chrono. Reena should be here soon to give me my booster shots and Mikal his first vaccinations.

***

I hear Maia’s frantic telepathic calls to me for help.

Something has happened to Mikal. I drop the datapad in my hand on the table and leave the briefing room without any explanation to those in it.

The turbolift seems to take forever today. I impatiently pace circles in it, worrying more with every lap. What could have happened? Is my son hurt? Ill? The Force gave me no warning that he was in danger. Surely it is nothing too serious, I try to reassure myself, just his mother overreacting.

When the door opens, I quickly make my way to medlab, find the treatment room Reena is working in and go inside.

Maia is standing beside the bed, staring down at our son. He’s flushed, shivering and his red hair is plastered to his head with beads of sweat. A thermo blanket covers his body, and I can see that it has been adjusted to deal with a fever.

‘...should have tested him,’ I hear Reena scold herself, ‘should have known there’d be a problem.’

‘Doctor,’ I say, letting my voice sound as cold as ice.

If this really is her fault...

She looks up with a start. I have surprised her. Her concentration was completely on the monitors surrounding the bed.

‘He’s had a bad reaction to the combination vaccine,’ she admits, a bit flustered by my sudden appearance. ‘I didn’t know your Lady’s homeworld was isolated for thousands of years. If I had, I would have given him the various strains individually, not all at once.’

‘And?’ I prompt.

Now that I know the source of the problem, I want to know what her solution is.

‘I’ve given him something which will help, but I won’t know how he is until the fever breaks,’ she informs me. ‘All we can do is wait.’

I wave the doctor from the room and position myself across from my wife. Maia is pale, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she stands guard over our son. All I can sense from her is concern and guilt.

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ I try to reassure her.

No answer.

‘Maia,’ I softly say, ‘he will be fine.’

Her eyes finally look up at me. My wife is very close to tears. I reach over to her, offering my hand in an attempt to comfort her. Unexpectedly, she takes it.

‘He will be fine,’ I repeat as her fingers interlace with my own.

***

DAY 21

I wake to find myself covered with a blanket, slumped over in a chair, in one of the treatment rooms down in medlab. For a second I am confused by my location, then memory returns.

Mikal.

Looking over to towards the bed reveals Ani standing beside our son, watching him rather intently. He senses that I am awake and steps back, putting some distance between himself and our sick little boy.

‘How is he?’ I ask as I use the chair’s arms to lever myself up and out of it.

‘Sleeping,’ Ani reveals. ‘The fever broke early this morning. You were exhausted so I let you be.’

For a moment I am annoyed at him, but decide that there is no point in getting angry about it. I know I could barely stay on my feet when I finally gave in and sat down last night. Ani was just being considerate. If anything had happened to our son, I am sure he would have woke me.

I move to Mikal’s side and brush his head with my fingers. His temperature is lower, near normal now, and he is sleeping peacefully. Ani was right that he would be fine.

‘Thank you,’ I tell my husband, who has made his way to the door.

‘For what?’ he asks.

‘Coming down here and staying with us when you knew there was nothing to worry about,’ I tell him. ‘You didn’t need to do that.’

‘Of course I needed to do that,’ he quietly scolds me a little. ‘I am his father.’

He pauses a moment in the doorway, then is gone.

I stare at the closed door, considering his words, long after it has shut behind him.

The Executor, Endor, Ibleam System. Month 6.

DAY 14

***

Another long day of inspections and meetings is at an end. I stare out at the Executor through my shuttle’s cockpit view ports. Soon I will be back ‘home’.

As my flagship grows larger, the shuttle closer to it, I consider the last month.

Maia no longer avoids my touch. On the contrary, she will happily take my hand, if I offer it. And that day I was ambushed on Ord Mantell - when I returned to my quarters she threw herself into my arms, and refused to let me go until she was sure I uninjured, relieved that I was safe. Ever since then, all I have had to do is open my arms for her to step into them.

It’s like she is back on her homeworld, discovering she loves me, for the first time, again.

I haven’t discouraged her shy attempts to get close to me, to engage me in conversation. Every question she has asked, I have answered truthfully, or told her that for her own safety I could not tell her what she wanted to know. Some things in my past are best kept from her.

And last week she let me touch our son. He needed another hypospray, one that would sting a little, so I offered to comfort him through that. She hesitated at first, then gave him into my arms, and watched me closely every second I held him.

It is a beginning.

For now, she is my companion, my confidant... my friend. We can discuss any topic, share any concerns. Maia never judges me, is always supportive and loving. She is the one person who is completely honest with me and I have grown to trust her without question. If only she could bring herself to return that, but that will only come with time, when she is ready.

I haven’t tried to push for more.

The shuttle docks.

As I make my way back to my quarters, I run through my mind what I must do tomorrow. More of the same.

Another long, boring day for me.

I hesitate when I sit down in my pod. Something’s missing. The jug of supplement and my glass, which I left out this morning, are gone. Maia has taken them, looking after my needs as always, but she has obviously forgotten to set out my evening’s meal. With a sigh, I go to the kitchen to fetch it myself.

The bedroom door is open. That’s unusual. She’s normally asleep, with the door securely locked, long before now. Despite my curiosity, I resist peering in or disturbing her privacy.

Time to get my dinner. The cooling unit is empty. Irked, I open the storage compartment the spare containers should be in. They are gone, the shelf bare. What has she done with them?

‘Looking for your dinner, my Lord?’ I hear my wife ask.

I turn about. She’s dressed for bed, in her mothsilk nightgown, and wrapped in one of my robes. And from her body language, she is not very sure of herself.

I wait, patiently, for the dinner invitation I am sure she is about to offer.

***

I stare at his back as he looks in the empty cupboard, still unsure if I am really ready to take this step or not.

You spent all day making this decision, I scold myself. You can’t keep putting off the inevitable. Either he will behave himself and you will have nothing to worry about, or he will try to take advantage of the situation and you will have your answer.

Gathering up my courage, I ask, ‘Looking for your dinner, my Lord?’

Ani turns and looks at me, but doesn’t answer.

I hesitate, waiting for him to say something.

The Sith Lord doesn’t.

‘I thought you might like to have a late night drink with me,’ I shyly offer.

Did that sound as lame as I think it did? Embarrassed now, I feel my cheeks color, so I start to spin around with the intention of fleeing into the bedroom and safety.

‘I would be honored to share my meal with you, my Lady,’ he quietly answers, stopping my retreat.

There is no teasing, no mockery in his voice, no hint he finds my behavior silly - only acceptance ... and love.

Now what?

He extends his hand, so I take it and let him lead me out of the kitchen and into our bedroom.

DAY 15

I roll over and look into the peaceful face of the man sleeping beside me. For the first time in months we have shared a bed, and my husband behaved like a gentleman and made no forward moves at all last night. He knows the rule about that. But even so, Ani was more interested in getting some rest than in doing anything else. Exhausted. My love is completely worn out. The relatively peaceful interlude of the last two months has come to a rather abrupt end.

I lean over and carefully kiss his forehead, making sure he won’t wake up and catch me doing it. Those two months were no holiday despite the minimal demands placed on the Sith Lord by the Emperor. No, it was no vacation. Not for him. Not for me. Rebuilding our relationship has not been easy for either of us. Some hurts take years to heal, I remind myself, and some never do.

Returning to lie on my other side, I look over at Mikal and see he is still asleep. Good. My five month old is just starting to make it through the night without needing a meal or waking.

‘Maia ...’ I hear Ani whisper, so I silence him with a finger across the lips.

Mikal’s still asleep, I warn him.

Ah, he replies to that. I will use that as an excuse to stay in bed a bit longer then.

More meetings and inspections today? I ask, being a bit nosy.

And construction crews to threaten, and engineering staff to reprimand, and... the Sith Lord grumbles for quite a while in that vein.

Finally he falls silent.

You could get someone else to do that, I suggest.

I hear a snort behind my back in answer.

Somehow I doubt Commander Tosack’s threats would be taken as seriously as mine are, Ani decides.

True, I admit to myself. The merest bit of rumor that the Sith Lord is on his way to check on a project or visit a restless planet is often more than enough to bring people in line.

Hopefully it won’t be for much longer, I tell him a bit wishfully.

No, this project is in the early stages yet. It hasn’t started to fall behind schedule by too much, so my presence is a short term one. I am here more to give a bit of incentive to keep things on target than to supervise every single detail, he admits.

Good, I decide, I am tired of being locked up.

I feel a kiss on the back of my neck, but don’t scold him for not asking my permission first. He behaved himself last night, so I know he won’t try anything now.

Necessary, he reminds me, this project has the highest security rating. I have to keep you completely ignorant of any of it.

Except that you are spending all your time at it, I tease.

Unfortunately, true, Ani replies. Now I do need to get up and see what is on the schedule for today.

He stealthily slips out of bed after that, sneaks into the ‘fresher, and closes the door after himself. Mikal doesn’t stir until Ani has partially dressed and is sitting at the table, looking at a datapad and having breakfast. Then our son starts babbling.

I retrieve him from the crib and set him on a blanket next to his father. The Sith Lord will have little time with his son today and I can delay feeding Mikal for a few minutes.

Ani looks down with a smile.

‘Giving orders are you?’ he teases.

Mikal stops a moment to look up, then manages to get himself into a sitting position. The contented noises resume.

‘Or maybe delivering a report to me?’ my husband suggests, his eyes never leaving our son. ‘You make more sense than some of the engineers I have to deal with.’

‘He’s probably asking for his rattle,’ I admit with a laugh.

Mikal grabs at Ani’s robes. Tiny fingers and hands hold tight to the fabric as he works hard to pull himself upright. The babbling stops as his little face shows the effort and concentration he is exerting.

Ani looks over at me in surprise.

‘Wait,’ I suggest, ‘and see what he is up to.’

When he has managed to stand for a few seconds. Mikal’s fingers let go and he slips to the floor to land with a soft thump on his rear.

‘Pretty good for a first attempt at standing without anyone’s help,’ I tell my husband.

‘Isn’t it a bit early for that yet?’ he asks.

‘Not really,’ I decide. ‘Jamie was walking at nine months and could climb like a Wookiee by one year. My parents had to watch him every minute. He was always into some sort of mischief.’

A smile sneaks across Ani’s face. He’s heard plenty of stories about that brother of mine and his infamous pranks.

‘Why does that not surprise me?’ he finally comments.

The sound of rapid crawling draws my attention back to Mikal again. Once he figured out how to do that, there was no keeping him restricted to his blanket.

‘Come back here, you,’ I scold as I chase him down.

I sweep him into the air and down into my arms. Maybe it’s time to take the next step with Mikal, too. Ani has earned the chance to be a father to our son.

‘Shall I give you to daddy for a while?’ I ask my son as I walk to the Sith Lord’s side.

Ani lets out a snort at that. He would rather I not have our son call him that.

‘Ba-ba-ba,’ Mikal answers.

‘Let me have him for a few minutes, then,’ Ani offers, setting the datapad down on the table.

I hand Mikal into his father’s outstretched arms. Learning to trust him with our son has been one of the hardest things I have had to do. Ani won’t hurt him, I remind myself.

While I go back to my chair, Ani settles Mikal on his lap and resumes reading the files on the datapad. I hide a smile behind my hand. No one would ever expect to see the Sith Lord and Supreme Military Commander in this domestic scene. And I don’t know which of the two is happier - my husband or our son.

I see Mikal’s eyes fix on Ani’s control panel and a hand heads in that direction. The lights on it have always fascinated him, but the Sith Lord absentmindedly brushes away his son’s attempt to grab at them. Oh, oh. Better watch out husband. You will only encourage him to keep trying for them and turn it into a game if you aren’t careful. The second time his hand is prevented from reaching its goal, Mikal lets out a cry of protest.

‘No,’ Ani firmly states, gently holding his son’s hand away from the controls, ‘you are not allowed to play with that.’

In further protest, Mikal lets out a rather loud, ‘Da!’

The startled look on Ani’s face is absolutely priceless.

‘Da-da, da-da!’ our son continues.

The Sith Lord’s mouth drops open as he stares at Mikal. At that I let out the laughter I had been holding in. That was hilarious.

Ani glances over at me then back at Mikal who has reverted to his usual babbling. A small smile starts to appear.

‘No more objections to being called ‘daddy’?’ I tease.

‘None,’ my husband concedes as his grin gets bigger.

Ani shifts Mikal about, then stands and returns our son to my arms.

‘I have to go,’ he reluctantly admits.

I tip my head to look up at him. Ani is still smiling and he should stay in a good mood for most of the day thanks to our son.

‘May I?’ he asks.

I nod, anticipating what he plans to do.

Two bright blue eyes get closer to mine, then I let my own close as I feel a kiss land on my lips. He keeps it gentle and short before pulling away to finish putting his armor on.

‘Don’t wait up,’ he warns, ‘it could be a very long day for me.’

Then he is gone, so I settle Mikal at my breast for his breakfast.

I brush a finger across my still tingling lips. Ani hasn’t kissed me in over four months, but his timing was perfect. We both needed one of us to get up the courage to do that and break down the last wall between us. Maybe he finally got tired of waiting for me to make the first move and decided to take the offensive.

Or maybe I just wanted to kiss my beautiful wife, Ani puts in an amused comment.

I can feel his presence moving farther away as he heads down to the docking bay and his waiting shuttle.

I get the hint. No more over-analyzing everything, I promise him.

Another wave of amusement from him.

If I can escape from a meeting or two and come back early, he decides, I will. If you want something to do, you could start on those performance files today. My office is open, but the main door locked. No one will bother you.

I reply with a touch to our bond, sending him reassurance, support and love. He will always have those from me. The same is returned in acknowledgment, then I sense his attention shift and know he is now on duty. Time to let him work. He will be back later.

***

It’s a good thing I am wearing a mask, I decide.

The silly grin on my face wouldn’t intimidate anyone.

Finally, finally, it has happened. Maia asked me to have a meal with her. We exchanged small talk for a while. Then she mentioned how exhausted I looked ... and offered to share the bed with me.

I behaved myself, held her in my arms through the night. Maia was not ready for more than that so I didn’t ask.

Then she let me hold Mikal again.

And he called me daddy!

Daddy!

My son called me daddy!

And then ...

... then she let me kiss her.

I kissed her!

‘Commander,’ I acknowledge my shuttle’s pilot.

Surprise appears on his face, then his own knowing smile. My mood must show in my tone, and he thinks I spent an enjoyable night with my wife. Which I did, just not in the way he has assumed.

So what if my happiness shows.

I don’t care.

For one day, I decide, it really doesn’t matter.

***

With a sigh I look at down Mikal. He’s long since finished his own breakfast, and needs to be cleaned up and dressed in a fresh sleeper before I put him down for a nap.

‘Clever boy,’ I tease, ‘to wait until that moment to say that this morning. We won’t tell daddy you use that phrase on your rattle and other toys, too.’

Resting my son against my shoulder, I go into the ‘fresher and set about preparing his daily bath. Ani tried to bathe Mikal on his own once, but gave up after getting drenched. Along with feedings, which he isn’t equipped for, bathtime has become my domain.

I watch the feet and hands fly up and down in the warm water accompanied by loud cries of protest and frustration. Mikal hates baths and quite happily lets everyone on the ship know it. With a touch to the Force I quiet him down.

No more carrying on, son, I firmly warn.

Mikal is much happier once I have dried him off, dressed him and put him back to bed. Tired yawns quickly replace his babbling, so I sing quietly to him for a few minutes. Finally, I brush aside his red hair and watch him sleep for a few minutes.

You need to have your own bath and breakfast, and get some work done, I scold. Ani will expect at least some sort of sketchy report when he gets back.

Hours later, I have organized the data files the way I want. At least the records are complete and consistent thanks to efficient Imperial paper-pushers. With a touch, the Executor’s computer core sets to dropping the information I requested on all of the fleet’s Star Destroyers into the templates I have created. While the system works away, I have my lunch, feed Mikal, and play with my son for a while before the terminal lets me know it is finished.

I put Mikal in his crib for his afternoon nap.

That took forever, so what do I have to sort through for Ani?

Twenty-five thousand ships?

I read the screen again as I sink into the Sith Lord’s chair. And I thought the military spent a fortune back home! The construction cost of even one Star Destroyer would bankrupt most worlds and the Empire has twenty-five thousand of them. No wonder Ani can yank resources whenever and wherever he wants. With all those ships at his beck and call, the rebels don’t have a chance.

While I consider that, I chew on my lower lip. Some of those vessels must be on permanent patrol routes, others dedicated to protecting certain worlds or sectors. Dry-dock time and repairs would account for a few of them, too. Only a small percentage must be readily available at any given time for Ani’s use. And even fewer still close by when he needs them. No wonder he wants to create a more independent, roving fleet for his own use. No delays, Imperial politics or local military to deal with.

I sit back and think a bit. Five Star Destroyers to go with the Executor. They will have to be the best, I decide. Now, which performance categories might be most important? And how to deal with ranking them?

By the time I am done with my assignment, there is a thick stack of printouts waiting on the Sith Lord’s desk. For each set of rankings, I had used a different set of criteria, but even so, on the uppermost page, the overall summary of results, two ships stood out above all others.

The Devastator. The Avenger.

Ani’s old flagship. Needa’s brilliant command.

Surely my husband will choose those two vessels.

The remaining three should come from a pool of a dozen or so others, depending on what emphasis Ani wants. Or, I admit with a disgusted face, what politics play themselves out. He hasn’t breathed a word of his plans to anyone except me, and when that particular tidbit gets out, the fighting for position within the ranks will be intense. The Sith Lord might have some rough seas ahead of him.

I shut down the data terminal and head back to the bedroom. Time to sleep. Ani is obviously stuck in some long-winded meeting. He won’t be back until quite late.

Imperial Center, Corucant System. Month 6.

DAY 35

***

For a moment I watch Maia effortlessly run through the set sequence of moves. How easily she does that now, I think as she spins and swings her ‘saber into a parry against her imaginary foe. Now that she uses the Force as her ally, my wife could best many of the Jedi I once knew and trained with.

It is hard not to be jealous of her freedom of movement.

I don’t give her any indication of where my thoughts have been and take my place across from her, joining her as she starts a second form.

She mirrors my attack, then turns away, blocks an unseen riposte behind her back, holding her blade vertically over her shoulder. I go to do the same, only to change my defensive move at the last second to another one, to the side, not my back.

My armour no longer allows me to move as freely as I once could. The position Maia so easily swung her ‘saber into, one I was famous for perfecting, is impossible for me now - as are a number of other ones.

I slip into immobility again and silently watch her finish.

Maia is a graceful dancer when it comes to this. I could stand and observe her for hours, noting every smooth shift in stance, every elegant, effortless move with her blade, the fluid motion of her body.

I am a lumbering, clumsy hulk in comparison. The only advantages I have left are my strength and experience.

It is a humbling thought to realize that the once great Anakin Skywalker, famous Jedi knight, cannot perform some of the simplest of ‘saber moves any longer.

She finishes, hesitates, raises an eyebrow in question.

‘Just enjoying the view,’ I tease.

Her blade shuts off as she approaches, comes closer to me.

I extinguish my own and open my arms in an offer. She accepts it, settles her head against my chest for a while.

‘Let’s concentrate on the basics, today,’ I finally decide. ‘There are a few things I really need to work on.’

***

I look up at Ani from the book I am reading to our son and smile. He’s come back from his session of dueling against ‘droids in the salle.

‘How many do you need to replace this time?’ I tease him as he comes over to where I am sitting.

‘All of them,’ he admits.

‘Oh?’ I prompt, curious.

‘Their programming is getting out of date. It’s far too easy for me to dispatch them,’ he complains a little. ‘Even taking on two or three at a time isn’t much of a challenge any more.’

‘Maybe I should have stayed longer,’ I suggest.

‘No,’ the Sith Lord decides, ‘you are still healing and should not push it.’

I shift a little and feel the dull ache in my pelvis. Too much exercise brings it on, and the hour I spent in the salle with Ani definitely pushed the limits.

‘Reena warned me about that,’ I ruefully admit, before dropping my eyes back to my son and adding, ‘You just had to give mommy a tough time when you were born, didn’t you?’

Mikal makes a grab for the page and tears it. Rats. Getting another copy printed and bound will be a nuisance. I close the book and set it on the table, out of his reach, while his father starts taking his helmet off.

‘Why don’t you just use the datapad with the large screen and load the stories from your datachip instead?’ Ani suggests. ‘The worst he could do to that is drool on it or try to chew it.’

I give my head a shake.

‘I like books,’ I tell him. ‘There is something about the feel of paper in your hands that no electronic gadget can match.’

‘You just like being stubborn,’ he teases.

I simply smile at him. Books remind me of home and I want Mikal to have some childhood experiences that are like my own.

‘Time for some exercise for you,’ I say to our son.

With a tug using the Force, his blanket is spread beside me on the floor. The instant I set him down, Mikal is off, making a bee-line for his toybox. I let him go. He almost never stays put anymore and I always seem to be chasing after him.

Ani’s helmet is off now, and he has started drinking his dinner already. The Sith Lord rarely changes his mealtime schedule by much unless he has to, so something must be up.

‘You must have plans,’ I shrewdly guess.

A bratty smirk is his answer.

‘I owe you a dinner and evening out,’ he reminds me.

‘Dinner?’ I ask. ‘I don’t remember anything about a dinner date.’

‘No, I didn’t think you would. You were too busy pushing our son out at the time,’ Ani reveals.

I give him a puzzled look. That was months ago.

‘Dinner at the Menarai was my sabacc stake,’ he prompts when I don’t reply. ‘Reservations are required months in advance, but there was an opening tonight so I took it.’

Oh. I had forgotten about that. I was far too busy trying to ignore the pain from my contractions. Well, there won’t be any objections from me. That restaurant is the best on the planet and a night out will be a welcome break from our daily routine.

I take his hand when he offers it and give it a squeeze.

‘Would you please watch Mikal for me while I get dressed?’ I ask.

Ani will quite happily do that. He always plays with our son when he has the chance.

I retrieve the gown I want, put it on and unravel my braid. Tonight I will go all out, I decide as I dig out the necklace and matching earrings he gave me on Carida. There is no reason to wear a veil, so I twist a few strands of sapphire blue gems through my hair instead.

As I walk back into the dining area, I watch my husband enjoying himself with our little boy. The Sith Lord is sitting on the floor using the Force to move some of Mikal’s brightly colored balls around. Our son is propped up next to him, and is busy grabbing at the toys his father is rolling close to him.

Ani has proven himself to be a good father. Not once has he done anything to hurt or upset Mikal. He has been only gentle, patient, and kind to him, and I know I won’t ever have to worry about the Sith Lord harming our child.

But myself?

I turn my face away for a moment to compose myself.

What sort of a wife am I? We are friends who can discuss just about any topic, save one. I trust him with our son, but not myself. Expect him to be gentle to my little boy, yet fear he will lose his temper again and beat me once more. I share his bed, let him have the briefest of chaste embraces and kisses from me, and still refuse him anymore than that.

And I know that even though he has never said a word in complaint, never mentioned how he feels, he is deeply hurt by that.

Two arms slide around me from behind. Ani must have sensed my distress.

‘Some wounds take longer to heal than others,’ he quietly states. ‘I never expected you to let me hold you again, let alone allow me into your bed.’

I lean back against him, relieved he understands this.

‘Give yourself more time, Maia,’ he advises. ‘I will wait for as long as you need me to.’

‘Thank you,’ I whisper to him. ‘Thank you for understanding this.’

There is the lightest of kisses on my neck. Then he lets me go, steps back from me, and moves away to chase down Mikal who has made it into the reception room and is heading for Ani’s office.

***

Maia’s distress is so painfully apparent it almost screams at me through the Force, so I leave Mikal to his play and go to offer what little comfort I can.

She doesn’t pull away when I hold her in my arms.

‘Some wounds take longer to heal than others,’ I calmly remind her. ‘I never expected you to let me hold you again, let alone allow me into your bed.’

No, I never thought she would let me touch her again. And the emotional hurts I inflicted on her are still healing, still only barely scabbed over. It would be very easy for me to carelessly rip them open by insisting on more than what she is willing to give. She just needs more time.

My wife lets her weight fall back against my chest. I can sense her relief at my understanding and patience.

‘Give yourself more time, Maia,’ I recommend. ‘I will wait for as long as you need me to.’

I can afford to wait, to be patient. Our bond and her love will eventually win out and bring her back to me.

‘Thank you,’ she quietly tells me. ‘Thank you for understanding this.’

I set the most delicate of kisses on her neck, then hurry off to retrieve our son who has decided to go look at the flames in my office’s fireplace once again.

***

Ani lands his shuttle on the platform beside Monument Plaza, helps me to my feet and leads me down the ramp and out into seeming chaos.

Tomorrow the Midsummer Festival begins and it seems that everyone on the planet has chosen to come to the plaza to celebrate the eve of the week long holiday. But the crowd soon parts to the uniformed security who have accompanied us. The few who do protest are quickly silenced as tourists and locals alike are forced to back away. No one, it appears, is going to be allowed close, and few here would risk annoying Lord Vader anyway.

I do my best to ignore the stares. Very few have seen me in person, in public.

‘She’s a princess,’ I hear someone tell their companion.

‘Where’s young Lord Vader?’ another spectator asks.

Safe in his father’s castle, I reply to myself. Mikal is far too young to expose to this sort of publicity. Having to pose for those holos was bad enough. Now, everyone knows what we both look like, but that hasn’t stopped the paparazzi from trying to get candid shots of our private life. I stare at a reporter who has made his way to the front of the crowd. He’s one of the regulars, so soon the rest of them will turn up.

Ani pulls me along the path which has been cleared, towards the center of the circular plaza and a large outcrop of rock sticking up through the artificial surface.

‘My Lady, this is the only place on Imperial Center where you can see the real surface of the planet without having to descend to the lowest levels which are not safe to be in,’ Ani tells me.

‘It must be the peak of a mountain,’ I decide.

‘It’s the top of Mount Umate,’ he reveals. ‘The Menarai restaurant is named for the range it is a part of.’

We are quite close to the pinkish colored granite which is surrounded by robe wearing men and women who are obviously trying to meditate.

Who are they? I ask the Sith Lord.

Religious fanatics, he replies. They guard the mountain. Taking samples is forbidden, so don’t even think of trying to get a piece.

Rats, I grumble at him.

The minerals in the granite formed large crystals when the magma cooled, and the stone is sparkling in the early evening sun. It is not special or unique from a geological point of view, but I wanted a chunk of it for my rock collection. I resist the temptation to go over, have a closer look, and try to sneak a piece of it into my hand.

If you want some of it that badly, it can be done, the Sith Lord offers.

No, I decide, it’s not that important.

We sweep past the outcrop, through the crowds. The usual contingent from the press has shown up now, but when we reach the building the Menarai is on top of, most of them put away their holocams and take up positions in the nearby tapcafe. Two attempt to follow us. They are stopped by several well-dressed young men and firmly, politely told to leave.

Private security, Ani notes, no reporters are allowed up in the restaurant. Management doesn’t appreciate their guests’ meals being disturbed.

The Sith Lord’s own security team stops outside the turbolift. They will wait for us here, I guess. I give Ani a worried look. He’s usually far more concerned about my safety than he has shown today.

Ani,... I start to pose a question, but the ‘lift has arrived so I don’t finish it.

He wraps an arm about my waist and pulls me inside.

The ‘lift opens onto an elegant reception area. Nice, I think. Pretty fancy, actually, and their decorator has good taste. A tall blonde in an evening gown wanders by. Ani ignores her and the three others in formal dress who are waiting for their table. He simply walks up to the desk and stares at the man who is busy trying to accommodate a change in seating arrangements.

‘My Lord,...’ he stammers once he realizes just who is standing in front of him. ‘There’s been a mistake. I am trying to correct it.’

‘Mistake?’ Ani repeats.

Great. Someone screwed up our dinner reservation.

We could always go somewhere else, I suggest.

No, he decides.

‘A double-booking somehow,’ the increasingly nervous employee admits.

‘I would suggest, then, that you fix it,’ the Sith Lord calmly states, ‘and quickly. I am not used to waiting.’

I hear the turbolift open behind us. The fellow in charge of seating jumps, and if possible, becomes even more agitated.

‘Your highness,’ he addresses the newcomer. ‘Your usual table, I assume.’

Ani turns to see who has joined us, so I do the same. Prince Xizor. And this time with a brunette on his arm instead of the blonde he was at the opera house with.

‘Perhaps we should dine elsewhere, my Lady,’ Ani offers.

What are you up to, Sith Lord? I prod him.

I know my husband doesn’t like Xizor, but I doubt that the Falleen’s presence is what has prompted this.

Getting us a table, he tells me.

‘There is a problem, Lord Vader?’ Xizor asks.

‘It appears that they have overbooked,’ Ani answers. ‘We will go elsewhere.’

Xizor fixes an icy look on the restaurant’s staff member who is doing his best to look apologetic.

It doesn’t work.

‘Explain,’ Xizor orders.

What’s going on, Ani?

Xizor is a part owner of the Menarai. I don’t think he would want us to walk out due to a clerical error. It would create too much bad publicity.

‘They were two double-bookings. The ambassadors from Chandrila and Esseles are here for the Festival and have agreed to share a table,’ the host nods at the four in the waiting room with us, ‘but the only remaining private booth is yours, your highness.’

There is no reaction to that from Xizor, but I suspect he is busy trying to figure out how to deal with this problem. Since the Sith Lord will not take ‘no’ for an answer, only three options are available - he has someone else tossed out to let us have a spot, gives up his own table, or ends up with unexpected company for dinner. And I don’t think he really likes any of those solutions.

‘It appears that there is only one civilized way to resolve this,’ the Falleen cooly notes. ‘Would you join us for dinner, my Lord?’

‘As you wish, your highness,’ Ani politely accepts.

‘And I will speak with the management about this ... unacceptable error,’ Xizor tells the restaurant employee who I am sure will be looking for another job in the morning.

***

I give no hint I am smiling behind my mask as we follow Xizor and his current companion through the restaurant to his private booth. That was almost too easy.

After the debacle with the bounty hunter’s guild, which only profited Xizor’s interests, I see no reason to socialize with him. But the opportunity to make him uncomfortable is one I cannot pass up.

Xizor is beginning to have far more influence with my master than I like.

***

The table we are shown to is the best in the restaurant. I settle myself in my chair and stare out the transparisteel window. There is a spectacular view of the plaza and skyline. Too bad Imperial Center is so brightly lit - there is no chance to view a sunset on this planet.

‘Lord Vader, Lady Vader, my companion, Sayelle,’ Xizor introduces the brunette.

She smiles and offers her hand to Ani, but doesn’t say a word after he politely takes it for a few seconds and releases it. Obviously someone is a little bit intimidated. Once the men get talking, I decide, I will try to draw her into conversation myself.

The woman who guided us to our seats has disappeared, but electronic menus are on the table. I look at mine, as do Xizor and Sayelle, but I don’t recognize very many of the dishes. Someone likes flowery language. It would take an gastronomic interpreter to figure out what most of this stuff is.

Ani, I want something simple, not this weird stuff, I admit. What’s a land shrimp? Or fleek-eel?

Delicacies from the Outer Rim, he answers. Very expensive. They have to be brought in fresh every morning.

Can’t I have my usual? Please? I ask. I want a nice nerf steak.

Try something different for a change, he scolds, Be adventurous for once.

Adventurous. Alright, Ani, but I am not eating rycrit, I tease.

He doesn’t answer, and a server, a young man in an elegant brown tunic, is waiting to take our orders.

‘I haven’t made up my mind yet,’ I admit, ‘so why don’t you order first Sayelle?’

‘Kashyyyk land shrimp to start, and the Ithorian snail,’ Sayelle tells our server.

‘The same to start,’ Xizor decides, ‘plicto steak, rare, and a bottle of the newly released vintage of blossom wine from Varykino, the Naberrie’s estate on Naboo.’

I feel Ani stiffen beside me. Something Xizor said bothered him.

Now it’s my turn to order.

I stare at the screen. I have no idea what to choose.

Well, since the wine will be from Naboo, I’ll have nuna.

‘The nuna soup, and...’ I run my finger down the list and pick something at random, ‘What are kundrils?’

‘Flying insects from Brentall, my Lady,’ Xizor answers.

Bugs? Ick.

‘Maybe not tonight,’ I quickly decide.

I make another selection. How about a vegetarian dish. That should be safe.

‘Rodian greenfruit?’

‘Humans are allergic to that,’ Ani offers.

After ten minutes and many more unsuccessful choices, I give up.

‘Nerf steak, well done, no sauces, nothing fancy, just plain, old, ordinary nerf steak,’ I finally order in frustration.

Ani lets out a low rumbling laugh.

‘I should have known you would order that,’ he teases.

‘And what vegetables would like with it, my Lady?’ our server asks.

I have to pick something else? The look of disbelief on my face prompts a response from our table host.

‘My Lady, I would suggest the stuffed yams or sufar greens,’ Xizor helpfully volunteers.

‘Thank you, your highness, I’ll try both,’ I decide.

***

Xizor is being the perfect host, I note, and even though he finds Maia’s ignorance of high cuisine quite amusing, he has been unfailingly polite about her indecision.

I know he is only putting on an act.

The Falleen dislikes me as much as I do him.

The wine arrives and Xizor puts on a bit of a show tasting it. Trust him to order the one thing Padme’s family were famous for producing.

I would almost think he did that deliberately, but no one knows about my first wife except my master. Anyone else who could reveal that secret is dead now. Some killed during the Clone Wars, others at my hands, and the old priest on Naboo died in his sleep months ago. And if Xizor knows Padme was my wife, then he must also know my old identity, which is virtually impossible.

I dismiss that thought from my mind. It’s merely a coincidence he ordered that particular bottle, nothing more.

***

Xizor goes about sampling the wine much as one would at home. I wait until Sayelle has tried her glass of it, too, before picking up my own. It smells wonderful, just like millaflowers, I decide, as I take a few deep breaths. And it tastes sweet, but not cloyingly so.

This is good stuff, I tell Ani. It’s too bad you can’t have any.

I’ve drank enough blossom wine in the past to know what it tastes like. Just don’t overdo it. The alcohol content is higher than you might think, he warns.

Alcohol? I don’t taste any alcohol.

He’s smiling. I just know it. Wary now, I set the glass down. I am not going to get drunk and make a fool of myself.

Use the Force and control to metabolize it, the Sith Lord suggests, though having you stand on the table and sing love songs to me would be far more entertaining than this dinner has been.

Xizor has been observing both of us quite closely, so I suspect he knows by now that we can communicate telepathically with one another. Maybe I should start some sort of conversation.

‘Your homeworld must be in the Unknown Regions, my Lady,’ Xizor states before I can come up with something to say.

Ani? I prod at my husband.

That’s common knowledge, so go ahead and talk about your homeworld, he advises. There’s nothing dangerous in that.

‘Yes,’ I admit, ‘and it’s inaccessible at the moment.’

‘How unfortunate,’ Xizor decides. ‘I am always looking for new markets my company might find profitable.’

‘You would be wiser to focus on your current shipping and transport contracts with the Empire,’ Ani hints. ‘Unnecessary delays are slowing several construction projects. Perhaps you should see to that problem, first.’

There must be trouble brewing, otherwise the Sith Lord wouldn’t bother mentioning it.

‘And perhaps you should concentrate on your own problem, my lord, namely that group of rebels who seem to always elude you,’ Xizor states, ‘instead of telling me how to run my business.’

So much for polite small talk.

Ani doesn’t reply to Xizor’s criticism, but I can sense the antipathy between them. If we weren’t in a public setting, I am sure they would be at one another’s throats. Luckily, our appetizers arrive before either of them can say something else.

I stare at my soup, but don’t taste it until Ani lets me know it is safe. Xizor makes a point of loudly cracking the shells of his land shrimp, and Sayelle timidly picks away at hers, looking like she would rather be anywhere else except here.

After several minutes of silence except for the snap of crustacean carapaces and Ani’s breathing, I’ve had enough. This is ridiculous, I finally decide.

‘Why is it,’ I ask Sayelle, ‘that dominant males behave the same way everywhere?’

She stares at me and Xizor stops breaking open a shrimp to look over at me. I know Ani’s eyes are on me, too. Well, now is as good a time as any to test Ani’s temper.

‘My Lady?’ she questions, puzzled.

‘It’s a universal truth that you can dress them up, take them out, but put two or more of them together and they insist on acting like little boys playing ‘king of the castle’ in the schoolyard,’ I tease.

Sayelle says nothing to that, but from the expression on her face I know she wants to. Her date is still holding his shrimp in mid-air, probably debating whether to make a comment or not, and Ani...

Ani’s breathing breaks a moment before he starts laughing.

‘Point taken, my Lady,’ he concedes, ‘no more work related discussions this evening.’

Good. He didn’t get mad at me and it sounds like the rest of the meal should be more enjoyable.

‘I believe I saw you at the opera last year, my Lady,’ Xizor starts a new topic.

He’s being polite again, but I can’t help shaking the sense that there is some point, some intention to needle Ani once more behind his choice of words.

‘Yes, I was there for the opening of Tedal’s Passion, but I became ill and had to leave after the first act,’ I admit.

‘How unfortunate,’ he decides. ‘The second and third acts were an improvement over the first.’

‘Considering that the music was plagiarized and the composer a thief,’ Ani growls, ‘I am not displeased that I missed it.’

‘Yes, that did cause quite a scandal. What a pity,’ Xizor takes his swipe, ‘since your wife’s homeworld does have some music and voices worth listening to.’

Ani lets out a hiss. He is still furious that the stolen recordings of my singing were copied by whoever Mia sent them to and freely distributed after that scandal became public knowledge.

Oh, oh. Here we go again. I give Sayelle a pleading look. Say something, change the topic, please.

‘Ill, my Lady?’ she prompts, picking up on my thought, or the expression on my face.

‘A little,’ I answer. No need to tell the truth here. ‘Nothing harmful, just fatigue.’

‘It must have been early in your pregnancy,’ Xizor notes. ‘How unfortunate. Falleen females don’t have the same problems human women do.’

I debate what to say to that.

‘Family is important, don’t you agree, Lord Vader?’ he adds when we both stay silent. ‘Some would say that family is the most important thing in one’s life.’

I turn away a moment and stare out at the city skyline. Family. My parents, my brothers, even Michael after Ani tried to get rid of him, are forever out of my reach, forever gone. I will never see them again. My next breath is a careful, controlled one. No, don’t get homesick, I scold myself, and you don’t want to start crying in public, especially not in front of Xizor. Remember Ani and Mikal are your family now.

It doesn’t work. I take another deep breath.

Maia, Ani tries soothing me.

‘I have obviously caused you some distress, my Lady,’ Xizor smoothly apologizes. ‘Please forgive me. It was not intentional.’

That does it. I put a hand to my mouth, abruptly stand up, tipping my chair over backwards, and flee towards one of the private ‘freshers to compose myself.

***

Damn Falleen, I think, furious, as I get to my feet. He did that on purpose, just to hurt her.

‘I need to see to my wife,’ I state, my voice cold as ice.

Xizor’s companion blanches, but he has the nerve to calmly sit there as if we were discussing something as inane as the weather. One day the Emperor will let me kill you and I swear I will enjoy every second I can prolong what I will ensure is a most painful and miserable death.

I follow Maia’s path to the ‘freshers, quickly trip the lock on the one she is hiding in, and use the Force to destroy all the monitoring cameras in the area. Then I step inside, only to find her standing in the corner, arms wrapped around herself, crying.

I don’t hesitate or bother asking permission - I simply turn her around and pull her close to my chest. Our bond sings with her distress and agony. My wife feels she has nothing to hold onto any more. No one she can trust. Not a soul who will be there for her. She is completely lost, adrift. Maia was entirely dependent on me emotionally and when she lost her trust in me, she lost her anchor point. And now the facade of strength she has so carefully maintained these last months has totally collapsed.

When I went to beat her that last time, I sadly realize, I destroyed more than I could have possibly imagined.

‘It’s alright, Maia,’ I try to calm her, to reassure her. ‘I am here. I won’t ever leave you.’

No reply except that she buries her face firmly in my shoulder. Her sobs are muffled, but show no signs of stopping.

Damn that Falleen, I curse again.

‘Little goddess, please stop that and look at me,’ I ask her.

A negative shake of her head is her answer.

I quickly consider what to say and do next.

She needs to understand that I will never allow myself to harm her again - I know all of her reluctance to move onward is linked to that. And there is only one way I can really prove that to her.

I choose to take another approach, first.

‘Maia,’ I firmly order. ‘Stop carrying on like a third-rate actress in a holo-drama and look at me.’

There is a pause, a loud inhalation, as she tries to get control of herself. Good. She’s going to stop these hysterics and do what I told her to.

Then slowly, carefully, she turns her tear streaked face to look up at me. I can sense her trepidation, her almost, not-quite, fear.

‘Do you remember the afternoon on your homeworld when you swore your oath to me?’ I ask her.

A nod in reply.

‘What did I say to you in Sith before you tried repeating it back to me?’ I prompt her a bit.

Maia looks quite thoughtful as she goes hunting about in her memory for those few brief sentences. Surprise appears on her face as she realizes what I said, what I swore to her.

‘You,...’ she starts.

‘... swore myself to you,’ I finish for her. ‘But I used a slightly different oath than what you did.’

Hers was the most binding of any vow used in Sith rituals between mates, mine less so.

‘But what I should have said was this,’ I admit, brushing away her tears before lapsing into Sith, >I offer to you, and you alone, my heart, seat of all my emotions; my body, source of all my strength; my life, my soul, essence of my being; let me be bound to you, Maia, my beloved soulmate.<

She stares at me, stunned that I would say that, offer that.

Those words are always spoken by the woman during the binding ritual, not the man. She offers; he accepts. That has always been the tradition.

Until now.

‘I won’t hurt you again, Maia,’ I promise her. ‘I will never allow myself to.’

She turns her head away and buries her face in my robes again. I can sense her reluctance to accept that I will keep my word.

A resigned sigh escapes before I can stop it.

I can’t force her to trust me. She has to make that decision herself.

Time then, to prove I won’t harm her.

‘Maia,’ I growl a low warning.

She freezes, knowing that my tone indicates my patience is at an end.

***

Another promise from him. But is this one he will finally keep?

I don’t answer, just hide my face in his robes again in an attempt to avoid answering him.

There is a resigned sigh from Ani.

‘Maia,’ he warns.

The Sith Lord’s voice is cold, emotionless. It is the one that has haunted the worst of my nightmares; the one I heard during each and every one of his beatings. His months of patience with me has finally ended.

I prepare myself for the shove away and blows I am sure will follow.

He releases me from his arms and steps back.

I slowly retreat into a corner, let myself slide to the floor, and use my arms to protect and cover my head. There will be no escape from him.

The Sith Lord simply stands there, hands at his sides, looking at me huddling in my corner.

He doesn’t move: I don’t move.

I shut my eyes and prepare for the worst.

‘I won’t touch you, Maia,’ he insists. ‘No matter what happens, no matter how much you provoke me, I won’t ever hit you again - I will never let myself do that again.’

I warily open my eyes and slowly look up at him. He hasn’t moved at all. Alright, I’ll see if he’s telling the truth or not. For a moment, I try to think of the most hurtful thing I could do to him.

‘I had an affair with Thirsk while you were with the fleet,’ I lie to him.

No response other than a sharp inhalation.

‘And Rik and Torin, too,’ I up the stakes, still lying.

Nothing.

‘At the same time,’ I add.

Tipping my head, I consider what else I could say that might provoke him.

‘I passed information to the rebels,’ I try next. ‘I’ve been spying on you for them.’

Silence and immobility.

It appears he really is going to keep his word this time.

‘Ani?’ I ask, unsure what to do now.

He slips to one knee and reaches over to me, brushes my hair away from my face, and rests his hand against my cheek.

‘I won’t harm you, Maia,’ he repeats his earlier promise. ‘No matter what you do or say, or claim you have done.’

‘It was pretty obvious, wasn’t it?’ I ruefully admit.

‘You would be hopeless as a spy, my wife,’ he teases.’You are far too honest and too inept a liar to be successful at that.’

I lean into his hand, set my own on top of it, and hold it to my cheek for a minute longer. The familiar smell of leather from his glove is oddly comforting.

‘We should go finish dinner,’ I decide. ‘Xizor is probably wondering what we are up to in here.’

‘Let him wonder,’ Ani growls. ‘I hope he chokes on those land shrimp of his.’

‘Be nice,’ I scold as he helps me to my feet, ‘there’s just the main course and dessert to get through and then we can leave without making another scene.’

I make sure the rest of our dinner is uneventful by kicking Ani in the shin anytime he starts a topic which might be troublesome. Xizor seems to know that he had best keep his mouth shut, too, and refrains from provoking the Sith Lord further. The entire meal reminds me of the strained dinner at home after Michael announced he was enlisting.

I don’t object when it is finally over and we return to Ani’s castle.

And now, my husband is holding me in his arms as we stand on the balcony of his castle, keeping me safe and steady while we watch the finale of the fireworks which open the Midsummer Festival week.

The last of the pyrotechnics fade away as Ani guides me back to our quarters. He waves Cyran and Thirsk out once we are there. I know what I want to do, so I quickly check on our sleeping son and patiently wait for Ani’s mask to come off. Then I slide my arms around him, rest my cheek against his chest and gather up my courage.

The Sith Lord makes no move on me at all, though he must suspect what I plan to do. He just holds me close. His breath warms the top of my head, so I tip my face up to look at him. To look at my husband, the man I love. Ani calmly matches my gaze. Now I hesitate, unsure of myself, not certain if I am really ready for this or not. For a moment it seems as if the universe is paused, on hold, waiting for what we will do.

I finally break the frozen tableau, set my lips on his and kiss him. It is a soft, light kiss, one which merely brushes against his mouth without asking for more. The one I receive in return is just as slow and delicate, but from the tension in his body, I know Ani is holding back.

He’s afraid to ask me for more and right now, I am too much of a coward to tell him what I want.

You could let me take the lead, he offers. I’ll stop anytime you ask me to.

I just want a kiss, I shyly admit, that’s all.

Then I shall give you one, Ani decides.

His lips are firm against mine, and as he parts his, I do the same. When his tongue lightly runs over my lower lip, my knees begin to give way, so I take a firm hold on his robes to keep myself on my feet. Damn. I had half-forgotten how much of an expert he is at this. He lightly nips my lip next, then pauses, waits patiently for me to open my mouth to him.

I don’t object to his boldness and the Sith Lord is quick to take advantage of that. He slips his tongue into my mouth, thrusts in and out with it in imitation of the rhythm our love making would use. Ani knows I am not ready for the real thing, so he’s decided to torment me with this substitute instead. And that’s even worse, a form of torture actually, I decide as I let out a low moan.

It is too much to bear, so I break off our kiss.

Ani holds me tighter to himself, prevents me from pulling away from him.

‘Shh,’ he whispers to me, rocking me a little in his arms in an attempt to soothe my trembling. ‘Hush, little goddess. I went too far, too fast. I didn’t mean to frighten you.’

He’s assumed my shaking is from fear of him, not fear of where this might lead us.

And that is down a path I am not ready to take yet.

‘Hold me, Ani, please,’ I ask of him, desperately needing to be comforted for a while. ‘Just hold me.’

***

I hold her close and silently curse my stupidity. If only I had restrained myself. Maia was not ready for that yet and I have upset her by being far too bold.

Now I will have to make a strategic retreat, back away, while she takes even longer to once more reach the point she was at before I kissed her.

It is a most unfortunate and frustrating situation.

But at least she hasn’t shoved me away.

***

The Executor, Carida, Caridan System. Month 7.

DAY 18

***

War games, I think to myself, a necessary evaluation for the latest class from the academy and a way to test my flagship’s crew in a reasonably safe setting.

I look over at Maia who is standing at the head of the bridge and smile. She’s adopted my stance - legs slightly apart, hands clasped behind her back, staring out at the Avenger and Devastator. My wife looks like she belongs there, I wryly note. Perhaps her armour, which is modelled after my own, was a mistake.

She turns her head and tries to hide her own smile.

Credit for your thoughts, my Lord, she teases.

You have a nice rear end, I respond in kind, too bad it’s hidden by the tunic and cloak.

A grin threatens to emerge, so she quickly faces forward again. My wife remembers using that exact phrase on me.

It’s been five weeks since that disastrous dinner with Xizor. Five weeks since I went too far in how I kissed her. She hasn’t let me be that bold since then, but she hasn’t tossed me from her bed, or forbidden my kisses like I expected her to, either.

Not yet anyway.

I quickly stride across the bridge and join in her contemplation of the two other Destroyers which will participate. Today she will accompany me in battle; for the first time she will fly at my side.

It will be interesting to see what happens when she is finally forced to choose between kill or be killed. There will be no easy way for her to avoid that decision today.

‘The fleet is in position, my Lord,’ I hear the Admiral announce behind me.

‘Good,’ I reply. ‘Scramble the TIEs, Admiral. My Lady and I will join them in a few minutes.’

***

Ani’s in a good mood today, I note as I walk at his side through the ship down to the main hangar. I expected him to refuse my request to act as his wingman, to fly with him during the first scenario of the war games, but he merely laughed a little and agreed to my whim.

I give him a sly, surreptitious glance. He probably knows I’ve been practicing in the sims, but I made Torin wipe all the records of my performance and swore him to secrecy. Ani hasn’t tried to pry how I have done from his wingman. Not yet, anyway.

The Sith Lord is in for a surprise or two.

***

I watch Maia climb into her TIE, make sure she is secure, then turn to my own one stored next to it. Black Three will act as my second wingman today. Rik, Black Two, transferred to Maia’s staff months ago on Vjun in case she needed a shuttle pilot. Today I will spend some time evaluating his potential replacements.

It takes but a moment to climb in, adjust the straps holding me against the crash couch, and power up the engines. My TIE quickly drops away from the storage rack, to be rapidly followed out of the hangar by Black Three, Torin, and Grey One, my wife.

I smile to myself. I know all about Maia’s ‘secret’ sim practice sessions, despite the care she took to disguise what she had been up to. If she thinks she can surprise me, then she doesn’t yet understand just how sneaky a Sith Lord can be.

***

I angle my TIE Advanced, banking it sharply, as I trail after Ani. Once away from the Executor, I accelerate, taking my place behind him and to his right. Torin mirrors my move on the Sith Lord’s left.

A glance down at the controls tells me everything is working at full power except the weapon systems. The lasers have been tuned down, adjusted to give a good rap to one’s target and to allow for harmless ‘kills.’ I can hit anything I want and not do any damage, and I am sure Ani is expecting my shots to go everywhere except at the ‘enemy’ ships.

The first scenario, the one I will be flying in, is pretty simple. Keep the enemy ships away from the Executor and eliminate as many of them as possible. As the Sith Lord’s wingman, my job is to cover him and stay out of trouble. Easier said than done, I wryly note. Ani, I am sure, will do his best to make that as difficult as he possibly can.

***

Maia easily matches Black Three’s positioning moves, so I increase my speed, heading away from the Executor in the direction the ‘enemy’ ships will be approaching from. My wingmen keep pace. Good. Those hours spent in the sim with Torin as her squad leader have taught my wife what she needs to do and how she must react.

While we wait for the sentry ships to signal that the ‘enemy’ fighters are approaching, I check the various systems in my TIE once more. All is well, so I focus my attention on my wife for a moment. Rather than being excited in anticipation of what’s to come, she’s thoughtful, reflective, instead.

***

Credit for your thoughts, Ani asks me, breaking into my private musings.

He’s wondering why I am in the mood I am, I decide.

Just thinking, I tell him.

About..., he leads me into an answer.

Poetry, I admit, a little embarrassed.

Ah, the Sith Lord replies, but he doesn’t prod me for more information.

Looking out the transparisteel viewport towards Ani’s TIE ahead and to my left, I start wondering just how much he can pick up from me. In the past, he has been able to read my thoughts with ease, but in the last few months he has made little mention of my private musings. There have been no incidents where I could accuse him of eavesdropping or spying on me.

Ani slows considerably, then halts. We will hold our position for a few minutes, until the Sith Lord decides to move us in response to any reports of enemy fighters. He did not have to do this, but I suspect he is giving me one last chance to back out, return to the Executor, and avoid participating in what will be, except for the lack of kills, my first experience of real combat.

My stubbornness dictates that I refuse his offer and stay where I am.

I deactivate the small antigravity field surrounding the shock couch, loosen the crash webbing holding me in place and lean forward as far as I can. Tipping my head to the side, I let my eyes scan the area around me, knowing there is no point in trying to spot Ani’s other wingman. Torin is out of sight unless I use the reverse thrusters to break formation. And that is something I know better than to do.

Slumping back in the seat, I resecure myself in place and resign myself to waiting for something to happen.

***

I steer my fighter upwards, above the Executor, into a position where I can survey the space surrounding us. Slowing, then stopping, I give my wife her final opportunity to leave the field of combat before the enemy is engaged.

While I wait, I think about what she said.

Poetry.

Some from her homeworld have likened flying to that.

I suspect I know which verse she was thinking of.

I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth, and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings, I send to her, smiling as I feel her startled reaction in return. Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds, - and done a hundred things you have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung high in the sunlit silence.

***

I start laughing.

Hov'ring there, the Sith Lord continues to quote at me, I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung my eager craft through footless halls of air...

I should have known he’d figure out which poem had come to my mind. It’s one of Jamie’s favourites and the only one my pilot brother knows by heart. The one most pilots know by heart.

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace where never lark, or ever eagle flew, I offer in return, finishing it for him. And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod the high untrespassed sanctity of space, put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

Rather an apt verse, don’t you think? he asks.

Eminently so, I agree, since the man who composed it was a pilot himself. He wrote that after a particularly high test flight.

And... Ani prods for a further explanation.

He died in a training accident not long after, I admit. His name was John Magee, and he was only nineteen years old.

One of the risks any pilot faces, Ani reminds me. You could return ...

His offer to me of a strategic retreat is interrupted by the comm.

‘We have just picked up fighters on attack vector...’

The ‘enemy’ has arrived.

There will be no more opportunities for reflection or retreat for any of us.

***

I accelerate rapidly, streaking towards the opposing TIEs which are participating in this game scenario. From now on, they are my foes, targets to be destroyed without hesitation.

I see from the ‘scopes that Grey One and Black Three have matched my speed.

Then first wave of the enemy meets us.

And the elegant chaos of battle begins.

***

I yank my TIE hard to the right, barely staying in position.

Ani’s enjoying this, I note with a snort, as he effortlessly targets, then tags an enemy TIE with his turbolasers. And I don’t know what he thinks is more fun - blasting the new graduates from the academy, going out of his way to make them look foolish in the process, or pulling all sorts of complicated manoeuvres just to make my life difficult.

And he hasn’t once given me the opportunity to take a shot at anyone. Every time I’ve had the chance, he’s fired first.

I let out another quiet growl as I am forced to once again match another sharp turn by the Sith Lord.

At least he let Torin go have some fun on his own. Ani’s other wingman left us a while ago, ordered to go team up with one of the Executor’s other pilots to see if he is a suitable replacement for Rik.

With a smirk, I match the quick side slip and partial loop my husband uses to drop behind another hapless graduate. He thought he could shake me from his side with that one, I am sure.

Good try, Sith Lord, I think at him. When he doesn’t answer me, I add, You can’t get rid of me that easily.

***

I smile a little at her playful taunt, and casually eliminate another target. He promptly flies to the ‘safe’ zone, out of the combat perimeter, to wait with his classmates for this scenario to be declared officially finished.

That was the last of the ‘enemy’ fighters, and the pilots from the Executor have retreated to watch us along with the graduates. Torin pulls away from where he has been waiting ever since I sent him back to my flagship to change fighters. My wife won’t know who her opponent will be, and with the Academy’s markings on the fighter, she should assume it’s one of the less skilled graduates.

It’s time for Maia’s test.

***

‘Switch positions,’ Ani orders. ‘You will lead, while I will be your wingman.’

What?

I wonder what he is up to, then quickly obey.

You will be the one to take on this last fighter, he reveals.

Oh, so I get stuck with the one who survived the longest, I grumble at him.

It wouldn’t be an effective test for you if I made it too easy, now would it? he answers back.

Another one of his tests. I should have expected this when he agreed to let me fly with him today. With a resigned sigh, I check the scanners, locate my target, who is now heading straight for the Executor, and send my TIE ahead, throttle on full.

My quarry knows I am coming after him, so once I draw within range of weapons’ lock, he jinks hard to the left. I follow. My many lessons in the sim with Rik and Torin have ensured he won’t lose me with simple, straightforward tactics. Ani sticks to my side like glue.

He next tries a sharp bank, intending to loop over top and drop behind me, reversing our positions. I stay on his tail, not flinching as the surface of the Executor looms large through the viewport. As my stomach flips a little at the g’s I am pulling, I swear to myself that somehow I am going to get Ani for this one.

My target eludes me once again, managing to execute a series of sharp turns, using the Executor for cover. Frustrated, I finally do what I should have done to start with - I let myself relax a little and reach out with the Force.

What I find both surprises and annoys me.

Torin.

Black Three is the one who is busy trying to shake me from his tail.

‘You are so in for it, Sith Lord,’ I growl quietly to myself. ‘And you too, wingman.’

Ani’s low, quiet laughter echoes in my helmet. He heard me, of course, and he knows just how much I hate being set up this way.

I use the Force, anticipating Torin’s next swerve and sudden deceleration as he approaches the command deck and does an abrupt flip. He is now heading directly towards me.

Chicken. He’s decided to play a game of chicken with me. I nudge up my speed and refuse to be intimidated. As Black Three approaches, he makes no further attempts to evade me. For a moment I wonder what he is up to, but soon the buzz of my TIE’s turbolasers locking on fills the cockpit.

‘Got you at last,’ I happily crow, as I start to push down on the firing trigger.

My finger freezes.

I can’t do it, I realize, shocked at myself.

I can’t kill someone, even if it is just a war game, even if it isn’t real. And I don’t think I could do it even if it was real. Not unless it was Ani’s life on the line. Or our son’s life on the line. My hand falls away from the fire controls as I allow my TIE to continue on its path, at full-speed and temporarily unguided.

Maia, Ani warns me. You must back off. Torin needs some space to manoeuvre.

I ignore him and continue to stare at Torin’s ship which is quickly growing larger as I approach him.

I couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t pass Ani’s test.

Not even when Torin just gave me every opportunity to do so.

Ani nudges his fighter closer to me, trying to get my attention, no doubt.

‘Grey One, this is a direct order,’ he snaps at me, ‘move away from the Executor and give Black Three some space.’

Torin keeps coming at me, fully intending to finish our little game of chicken, regardless of what Ani might think of it.

For a split second, I hesitate, wait just that fragment of time too long to obey.

Then everything seems to stand still and objects start to move in slow motion.

I pull up, only to see Black Three try to duck underneath me, between Ani’s flagship and my fighter. As I whip about, one of his solar panels catches on a projection from the Executor’s surface, bending and buckling the framework. Torin slows instantly in an attempt to save himself, but it is too little, too late.

I watch in fascinated horror as the now severed solar panel rotates forward and impacts against the front of Torin’s TIE. There is no sound in space, so my imagination supplies it. In my mind there is a phantom crash, then the shattering of transparisteel and hiss of venting atmosphere before metal buckles and shears.

‘I need a tractor beam on Black Three, now,’ I hear Ani snap an order over the comm.

Torin’s TIE is instantly seized by an invisible hand and pulled back towards the Executor’s main hangar as I continue to stare at the broken ship.

‘Grey One,’ the Sith Lord calls to me. Maia, answer me.

‘Yes, my Lord,’ I reply after a long, pregnant pause.

‘Return to the hangar immediately,’ he tells me, adding when I don’t move to do so, ‘that’s an order, Grey One.’

With that, I do as I am told and slowly make my way back to the Executor, following Ani who has a considerable head start. Once I have docked, I sit silently for several minutes in my TIE, watching the tractor beam pull Torin’s damaged ship the last few meters into the hangar. A rescue crew and medical team rush to it once the fighter is resting on the durasteel deck. That finally prompts me into action. With a determined yank, I open the hatch and haul myself out. Ani, I see has already made his way down to where his wingman’s TIE is.

I run along the catwalk, down the access stairs, hurrying after him. The Sith Lord turns around when he hears my footsteps and stops. When I reach and try to go past him, he pulls me hard into his chest, puts himself bodily between me and the shattered remains of Torin’s TIE. I get a brief glimpse of Black Three’s body pinned in place by the twisted struts of his fighter’s viewport, hanging from the acceleration straps in the cockpit, before Ani firmly guides me across the deck to the exit.

‘Don’t look, Maia,’ my husband warns when I try to crane my head around him. ‘It will only cause you more distress.’

‘But...,’ I start to protest.

I know I can help, can do something, anything, to help get Torin free from his fighter, but Ani’s grip on me never wavers. As we near Commander Thirsk, Ani waves him along, indicating he is to follow.

‘Thirsk will accompany you to Medical,’ the Sith Lord tells me once the blast doors have closed behind the three of us, cutting off any view of the wreckage. He then turns to the Commander and orders, ‘Tell Reena to treat her for shock and sedate her, then take her to my quarters and have Cyran and Daini stay with her until I return there myself.’

‘I’m fine, really,’ I begin protesting some more. ‘I don’t need to be...’

Ani merely whips about and returns to the hangar, ignoring my complaints.

‘...coddled....,’ I finish, my voice trailing off as the door shuts between us.

I stare at the unyielding, solid durasteel. Ani just shoved me at the Commander and left, I think, annoyed at him.

Then it hits me.

No one could have survived that collision, or lasted long enough afterwards to be extracted alive from that wreck.

Ani’s friend and flying partner is dead.

Torin is dead.

Because of me.

Because of my stupidity.

Because I disregarded a direct order from him when I should have simply done as the Sith Lord told me to instead of sitting there, doing nothing, and acting like a stunned idiot. No wonder he just pushed me aside and went to see what remained to be done.

If there was anything that could be done.

Ani’s furious with me, I suddenly realize as I feel the blood drain from my face. He’s justifiably angry at me for ignoring his order to get out of the way, for stubbornly staying where I was, for not moving until it was far too late. And he doesn’t want to take his temper out on me. On his wife. His stupid, foolish, stubborn, disobedient wife.

‘My Lady,’ I hear Thirsk call me as if through a fog, ‘My Lady?’

I back away from him until I hit the wall of the corridor, then let myself slide to the floor with a thud and stay there, staring at the closed hangar door.

‘It’s my fault,’ I whisper to myself, ‘entirely my fault.’

Thirsk says nothing for what seems to be forever. He just stands there silently watching me. Torin was his friend, too. How he must hate me for what just happened.

‘I need to get you to Medlab, my Lady,’ the Commander calmly states, obviously expecting me to get to my feet.

I ignore him and stay where I am.

‘I killed him,’ I dully add after a few more minutes.

‘Get up,’ Thirsk growls. ‘We have orders to follow.’

There is no sympathy in his voice, not a shred of pity or understanding.

‘On your feet, soldier,’ he snaps.

I blink at him. What? This is not what I expect to hear from him. He’s treating me like I am one of his troopers, not his commander’s wife.

‘On your feet,’ he repeats, ‘now, before I have to report you to his Lordship for disobeying his direct orders a second time.’

I gape at him, stunned that he would make such a threat.

Thirsk reaches down, grabs my right arm above my elbow, and hauls me to my feet. I don’t resist as I am marched down the corridor to the required ‘lift. Once we reach our destination, he leads me into Reena’s treatment room, pushes me onto the examining table, then waits just inside the door for the doctor to arrive.

‘She’s in shock,’ Thirsk tells her. ‘I had to drag her down here after ordering her to comply didn’t work.’

Reena nods and tips my chin up from where I am staring down at the floor.

‘His Lordship wants her sedated,’ the Commander adds. ‘I’m to take her to his quarters after that.’

Reena quickly empties a hypospray into my arm. The effect is instantaneous. I feel my muscles relax and my head start to loll. My memories of Torin’s accident and the sight of the wrecked fighter in the hangar feel a bit distant, removed, not entirely real.

‘Drugging her is not a very good idea,’ the doctor admits, ‘since it won’t help her cope with the emotional trauma from what she witnessed in the long term. For the record, Commander, I’ve gone against my medical judgment in heavily sedating her as his Lordship has ordered. It will wear off in a few hours.’

‘And Black Three?’ he asks, deliberately keeping his voice low, but I still hear it.

‘There was nothing that could be done for him ...’ are the last softly spoken words which reach my ears before I slump over on the examining table and collapse completely.

***

She’s curled up in a ball on the bed, wrapped tightly around my pillow again. From what Cyran told me and our bond, I know my wife has spent the last few hours weeping despite the drugs I had Reena administer.

Mikal is sleeping next to her, tucked into her side. His presence is a calming one, but I still resist the urge to reach down, to touch her or give her any sympathy. Instead, I wait for the room to pressurize and remove my helmet while I decide what to say to her. Once I know the words I will use, I walk to the bed, set my hands on my hips, and look down at her.

‘I hope that in the future, in a setting where lives could be at stake,’ I coldly, ruthlessly state, ‘that you will do as you are ordered to, when I tell you to do it, without question, without hesitation.’

There is a ragged inhalation. No, she won’t disobey me like that ever again. Not when someone’s life could be forfeit as a result.

‘Commander Torin’s family needs to be informed and a holo of sympathy sent. I will entrust those two tasks to you,’ I tell her.

There is a silent nod of confirmation.

Good.

Maia understands and has learned a very costly, painful lesson. Her conscience will torment her about this for quite some time to come. There will be no need for me to speak of today’s disobedience and its disastrous outcome again.

‘Now, come here,’ I offer, my voice softening as I sit beside her on the bed and beckon to her with my open arms.

My wife needs to receive comfort from her husband now, not hear the unyielding criticism of a military commander.

She pushes herself upright then falls into my arms and turns her head to look at me.

‘Ani?’ she whispers, uncertain, unsure of what I might do.

‘Shh,’ I soothe her, bringing a hand to her cheek, only to feel the remains of her most recent crying spell on it. ‘You’re safe here, with me, now.’

She tucks her head under my chin and takes a few more ragged breaths, letting her attempts at Control finally go. More tears soon appear. I rock her a little in my arms while she works her way through her grief.

Little goddess, I can’t make this any easier for you. It’s a cold, cruel, hard lesson in the reality of combat which you have learned today: in battle, my orders must be followed instantly. If only it hadn’t been your friend - my friend - I finally admit to myself, who paid the price for your choice to disobey.

Her sobs finally diminish as my wife grows silent. She’s thinking, considering what happened.

I wait patiently for what she will do next.

Maia pushes back a little and looks at me. Then she comes closer, her lips brush mine before she sets them firmly against my own. I don’t rush our kiss, but let her take her time, let her be the one who nips my lower lip, explores my mouth first. Only then do I do the same to her.

We pull apart, quietly stare into one another’s eyes.

Then I draw her near again and start a second kiss, this time letting all of my love for her flow across our bond.

My wife needs to feel that from me.

She doesn’t resist our third kiss, instead melts at my touch, clings to me.

If only the circumstances were different, I think sadly as I reach a hand up and run it soothingly through her hair. Maia would so easily let me do as I please right now. She’s vulnerable, exposed, hurting and needing the solace our love making would provide.

But I dare not take advantage of the situation. She’s not ready for me to make love to her yet, so I won’t repeat my previous mistake and do what will only result in more harm, more damage to her still fragile sense of self.

I gently kiss her again.

No, instead of yielding to my desires and exploiting her momentary weakness, I will hold her tight, kiss her as many times as she wants me to, and give her all the comfort I can in other ways.

There will be another day, another time in the future for other things.

***

Part 3

Home Fiction Adult Fiction Art Mail List Staff Links