Harbinger

Preitha's earliest memory was of her father teaching her how to use a blaster.

"I don't want to hurt anyone, Daddy," she'd told him, fingering the weapon gingerly.

"Preitha, what is the driving force of the Empire?" he'd asked.

"Fear," she'd responded obediently.

"And how do we instill fear?"

"By showing strength," she'd replied.

"Good girl."

She didn't remember her mother at all. Motti had told her she'd died when Preitha was an infant, but hadn't told her the exact circumstances. As a young child, she'd asked about her mother often; what she'd looked like, how she'd smelled, what her favorite foods had been. Motti had always responded with vague, half-answers and she had eventually given up. She'd concluded that his reluctance to talk about her mother was because he found it too painful, and that the reason why he had not one holo of her, because he couldn't face what he'd lost.

Motti, whose rise to power was swift, had raised Preitha by himself, in his own militaristic style. He was ambitious, and ruthless too. It was his greatest wish that Preitha follow in his footsteps.

So far, she had.

At the age of sixteen she'd entered the Imperial Naval Academy. Her father had used a considerable amount of influence to secure her admittance, but it had been Preitha's own success and cunning that had spurred her rapid advancement through the ranks to become a Lieutenant at twenty-two. She'd been stationed on Imperial Center for most of her tenure to date, executing short, but fruitful missions, to other areas of the galaxy. Her forte was strategic reconnaissance and infiltration; finding small cells of rebel forces, and analyzing intelligence reports.

Though she communicated with her father often, she had shied away from offers to relocate to the Death Star; operating under her father's command was not a notion that appealed to her. She preferred to achieve success on her own, not under the shadow of the Admiral. But she'd received a direct order to report to Grand Moff Tarkin on the station and so, she'd packed up her few belongings and boarded the small transport shuttle that would take her to her father's domain - to what was being called the ultimate triumph of the Empire.

Now, it seemed that the entire purpose of her summons had been to act as a diversion for Motti's scheming aspirations. Her own achievements meant nothing. But the most infuriating piece of this new puzzle was Motti's apparent willingness to exploit her, his own daughter. She hadn't spent the last six years fighting for ground in a decidedly misogynistic Empire to be reduced to a female `distraction'.

Preitha was brooding in her private quarters – a luxury she'd been awarded based on familial relation, not rank – when her commlink erupted with the announcement that Vader's flagship, the Devastator, was approaching. She was expected to meet Tarkin and her father in the docking bay immediately. She pulled on her uniform jacket and took a deep breath, before stepping out into the corridor. She immediately glanced around with dismay, not having a clue where she was in relation to the main docking bay. The monstrous station was, in her opinion, an obscene labyrinth of passages and pathways.

Preitha let out a frustrated sigh as she surveyed the hallway. How anyone could navigate this station with any sense of direction was beyond her.

"Lost?" she heard a smug voice question behind her.

"No," she bristled, turning to face the voice.

"Lieutenant Motti, how satisfying to see you again," the man continued. He was slightly older than her, and handsome. A careful check of his uniform revealed he had not advanced in rank as swiftly as her.

"Ensign Krael," she smirked, "how have you enjoyed life since the Academy?"

"I've been aboard the Death Star for some time now," he replied. "We can't all rely upon famous fathers for our advancement, can we?"

Preitha's eyes narrowed in irritation. Krael had been her fiercest rival at the Academy, and even now he was convinced that she'd surpassed him, not by skill, but because of her father. "I'd choose your next words carefully, Ensign," she warned.

"Lieutenant!" her comlink burst to life, ending the conversation. "Lord Vader is preparing to dock now, where are you?"

She had time to throw one last, triumphant sneer over her shoulder at Krael's slack-jawed expression before hurrying down the corridor in what she fervently hoped was the right direction.


******


Preitha was by her father's side when the shuttle pulled into the hangar bay; watching as it glided to a skillful halt on the glossy durasteel floor. She stood to the right of Admiral Motti, who was at the right hand of the Grand Moff. Double rows of armored stormtroopers flanked them on either side. The ship set down directly in front of Tarkin and the ramp extended to reveal an interior as starkly white as the smooth outer frame.

Strong legs encased in black armor appeared first, approaching with even, measured strides. The sound of footsteps was joined by the rhythmic cadence of synthesized breathing. The figure descended the ramp and black gave way to more, lustrous black. Preitha had seen holos of Lord Vader, but the likenesses had not done him justice. In person, he was an imposing figure.

It wasn't until her father's elbow jabbed sharply into her side that she realized she'd been staring with unabashed curiosity.

"Welcome aboard, Lord Vader," Tarkin greeted him with a stiff nod.

"Have you readied the interrogation cell as I requested?" Vader asked. His voice was a rich baritone; Preitha found it, coupled with his breathing cycle, oddly hypnotic.

"Yes," Motti answered.

"Good," Vader replied, turning to the Captain that had debarked the ship after him, "retrieve the Princess and secure her in the cellblock."

"Do you really think she'll reveal the location of the rebel base?" Tarkin did not attempt to hide his skepticism.

"I will make her reveal it," the Sith Lord replied.

The small group began to walk away from the shuttle and out of the hangar bay, with Lord Vader in the lead setting a swift pace. Preitha was forced to trot to keep up with him.

"Lord Vader, the Admiral and I have business we must attend to," Tarkin said. "The Lieutenant here will accompany you, and see to your needs."

The black mask swiveled to regard Preitha. His features were completely hidden, and he said nothing to indicate his opinion of the arrangement. Preitha kept her gaze directed forward, mouth set into a firm, thin line.

Motti and Tarkin dropped back; Vader continued walking, and Preitha did the same, hands clasped behind her back. They continued in silence for some time, until she began to wonder if he even knew – or cared – that she was at his side.

"Well, Lieutenant, are you going to introduce yourself or simply trot along like a tauntaun beside me?" Vader finally asked.

She blinked and turned to look up at him with surprise. "I am Lieutenant Motti," she replied, silently cursing her father for not warning her that the man was such an asshole.

Vader laughed uproariously. "I assure you, Lieutenant, that the Admiral shares your sentiments about me."

Preitha did her best to hide her shock and mortification. The Imperial Academy was full of rumors about this mysterious, menacing figurehead of power, rumors she'd always assumed they were false. But if he could, in fact, read minds, she had to wonder what else was true. Perhaps the story about the bantha…

Vader's laughter renewed, and passing soldiers stopped to stare at them, stupefied. "A bantha?" he choked out. "Force, no."

Preitha smiled, blushing. "My Lord, I apologize."

He waved a gloved hand dismissively. "It's good to laugh, Lieutenant. I can't recall the last time I did. Can you?"

She thought for a moment and shook her head. "I can't, my Lord."

"No, I thought not," he quipped. "Not with Motti as your father."

She wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"What is your function, Lieutenant?" he asked, serious again.

"Intelligence analysis, sire."

"Is that so?" He tipped his mask towards her. "Interesting."

"There are scores of intelligence officers within the Empire," she replied graciously.

"Yes, but none before me now, save you."

Preitha nodded professionally, trying desperately to ignore the stirring between her legs at his words. She couldn't fathom why she found this tall, brooding figure so attractive. But there was `something' undeniably alluring about him. How far away were the damn cellblocks anyway? It was becoming increasingly more difficult to keep her imagination in check. Beyond that, the last time she'd had any physical contact with a man had been when she was in the Academy, and she and Krael had set aside their rivalry long enough to fuck like gizka inside one of the TIE simulators.

Vader chuckled, indicating that, to her horror, he'd again read her thoughts. "Why have you been sent with me, Lieutenant?" he asked suddenly, sparing her further indignity.

"I'm not privy to the reasons why, my Lord," she answered.

"I won't require your assistance," he said. "And I certainly don't need a chaperone."

"My Lord," she began, but was cut off when Vader's commlink beeped. He stopped and dug the tiny device from beneath the folds of his cloak.

"Yes, Grand Moff?"

"Lord Vader, I've just received news from the Emperor. Please join me in the main conference room immediately," Tarkin said.

Vader turned to Preitha, "Perfect timing. I will now tell your superiors that I have no need of your services. Come with me."

Tarkin was waiting for them at the door of the meeting room. He sent Preitha inside, citing the need to speak with Vader alone. She settled herself into an empty chair before the round, black table across from her father, who was already engaged in heated conversation with Commander Tagge. The men did not acknowledge her.

"Until this battle station is fully operation, we are vulnerable," Tagge stated. "The Rebel Alliance is too well equipped. They're far more dangerous than you realize."

Motti listened patiently, but Preitha saw the annoyance beneath his calm façade. "Dangerous to your fleet, Commander; `not' to this battle station."

"The Rebellion will continue to gain support in the Imperial Senate –" Tagge began excitedly; he did not notice Tarkin and Vader enter the room until he was interrupted.

"The Imperial Senate is no longer of any concern to us," Tarkin announced. "I have just received word that the Emperor has dissolved the Council permanently. The last remnants of the old Republic have been swept away," he took his seat to the right of Tagge, Vader remained standing behind him.

"But that's impossible!" Tagge exclaimed. "How will the Emperor maintain control without the bureaucracy?"

"The regional governors now have direct control over their territories," Tarkin explained calmly. "Fear will keep the local systems in line. Fear of this battle station."

"And what of the rebellion?" Tagge was unconvinced. "If the rebels have obtained a complete technical readout of this station, it is possible, however unlikely, that they might find a weakness and exploit it."

"The plans you refer to will soon be back in our hands," Vader interjected.

"Any attack made by the rebels against this station would be a useless gesture," Motti stated, leaning towards Tagge and emphasizing his words with firm hand gestures, "no matter what technical data they've obtained. This station is now the ultimate power in the universe. I suggest we use it."

"Don't be too proud of this technological terror you've constructed," Vader countered. "The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the Force."

Preitha looked anxiously from Vader to her father.

"Don't try to frighten us with your sorcerer's ways, Lord Vader," her father responded bitterly. "Your sad devotion to that ancient religion has not helped you conjure up the stolen data tapes, or given you clairvoyance enough to find the rebel's hidden fortress- "

Motti was cut off abruptly as Vader took a step towards him and held up his hand to form a fist.

"I find your lack of faith disturbing," Vader intoned calmly.

The other men watched in silence as Motti fought for air. It wasn't until Preitha stood and moved to help her father that Tarkin stepped in.

"Enough of this! Vader! Release him," Tarkin ordered.

"As you wish," the Sith Lord replied, turning away and dropping his hand.

The Admiral slumped forward; Preitha remained standing, prepared to go to his side if he needed her.

"This bickering is pointless," Tarkin continued. "Now, Lord Vader will provide us with the location of the rebel fortress by the time this station is operational. We will then crush the rebellion with one swift stroke."

Motti glared at Vader murderously.

"I will interrogate the Princess now," Vader stated. "Lieutenant Motti will accompany me and assist my efforts."

"Very good," Tarkin said. "This meeting is concluded."

Preitha ran to catch up with Vader as he left the conference room. "I thought you didn't require my services," she said.

"I didn't," he answered, "until your father chose to openly challenge me. As a result, I have altered my plans."