The Alliance

Kale and Deena meet; but it is hardly a lover's reunion.

The Torment

Thus far, the waiting and uncertainty was the worst part of Deena’s interrogation. The Imperials were obviously playing a game with her head, Deena told herself; letting her imagination cause the most torment. And it was working, as her thoughts played merry hell with her innermost fears.

It had taken her eyes time to finally adjust to the darkened room. Though now Deena wished it was still engulfed in shadow. She could barely make out some sharp, oddly shaped implements that were arranged on a small table nearby. She also noted the tiny amount of blinking light that came from the corner of the ceiling glinting on and off of their reflective surfaces in a menacing manner.

The room temperature dropped rapidly, cooling Deena’s naked body. Goose pimples popped up on her skin; her arms started to ache; pins and needles attacking her now white fingers; while red marks formed on each wrist from the heavy metal cuffs digging into the soft, veined flesh.

It was strange how the smallest sensation seemed somehow amplified. She was becoming more attuned to her body; her beating heart quickened as thoughts of not wanting to die in this cell, alone and forgotten, overtook her being.

Her thoughts had been slightly less fearful before the shadows had risen from the room, something of an epiphany rising from within. Joining the Alliance had been a rash, stupid decision, and a choice she might not live to regret.

Deena wasted no time rethinking about those that she had sworn loyalty to; the people that now chose to ignore her imprisonment and torture. She had performed well as their whore, but had become disposable, discarded due to her attachment to an Imperial whose bed she had shared.

Her thoughts turned back to Captain Roshuir, the guilt returning to churn in her stomach. Closing her eyes, she couldn’t help but recall Roshuir’s strength; his gentle, experienced hands; and deep, passionate kisses. Doing so, took her breath away, heating her being, despite her uncomfortable, awkward position.

The pleasurable memory of their time together was not quite enough to take her away from the realities of her torture cell. Deena returned to her senses, the warmth evaporated as her heart grew cold.

Using any means possible, she had been chosen by the Alliance to convince Roshuir to lead an attack on a Rebel base; but she knew it was her choice as a female to have enjoyed sleeping with him.

Did she regret it? Oddly, she did not. Even now, faced with torture at the hands of her former lover, she did not have any remorse of taking the opportunity to be intimate with Kale. It was not all about the sex act; there had been some intelligent conversation that made her feel like a respected equal.

Deena had not experienced that sort of deference from anyone in the Alliance…most of whom patronized or mockingly referred to her as an attractive, but dumb bim.

She understood Kale’s anger at her; he had every right to hate her, to want her punished, then liquidated, for the loss of his men that had willingly followed her false information to their deaths. She hated herself for that, for taking part in the deception. Why hadn’t she spoken up…told him the truth?

Deena realized she had become the very thing she was supposedly fighting against. How she had despised those who used and abused the gullible to fulfill their plans of conquest… yet, the Alliance leaders who claimed to be fighting for all beings, were in reality, just as willing to use ruthless means and treachery to regain lost power.

Was all this killing necessary? Had she ignored the good that the Empire had brought to the galaxy, for the over-rated, ill-planned liberalism of the Alliance? For all the Rebel’s sense of righteousness, were any of those who had signed up for the Rebel cause better off? Was the galaxy any safer because of this stupid, senseless war?

A hiss sounded. The chamber doors opened with a flood of light. Deena looked up to see the outline of someone entering her cell, his silhouette frighteningly familiar.

She had seen that same silhouette leave her that morning on Kalist IV; she had seen it a day later as she was about to take off on a disguised Rebel tanker. And she had come face to face with it as she had been captured aboard an Imperial detention ship, aiding Luke Skywalker in his quest to rescue an old friend.

Captain Kale Roshuir glared at her, the harsh light redefining his handsome face in an unattractive manner, making him look every bit the Imperial sadist she had been expecting. Her blood turned to ice.

She held her breath as the tall officer strode towards her, moving over the floor grids, steady, pounding, but his movements were not nearly as loud as the sound of her heartbeat.

It was then that she noticed he was not wearing his officers’ tunic; just a gray-green tank top over his muscled torso, jodhpurs, and those permanently polished black boots.

“Hello, Deena.”

The greeting was flat, emotionless, as Roshuir did his best to keep his feelings in check, even to the point of ignoring her completely naked state.

Deena’s cheeks turned bright crimson, and the restraints made a clanging sound as she pulled against them, in a failed attempt to shield herself from her nudity.

“When last we were alone, modesty was the furthest thing from your mind. Did you suddenly discover your moral centre?”

“Kale, I…“

A bare hand slapped Deena’s cheek and lips hard, the familiar scent of it lingered, as she tasted blood in her mouth, the hurtful sensation strangely welcome after the memories of her culpability and sensory deprivation. She looked up at him, eyes silently pleading for forgiveness…or penance.

“Don’t call me by that name, again!”

Roshuir’s voice was as sharp and cruel as a vibroblade, cutting into her guilty heart like a hook, tearing it apart further.

He struck her again, this time on the opposite side, causing tears to swell in her eyes and spill down her face.

“Captain Roshuir, I’m so sorry…” She cried, chest heaving, wrists aching as she tried to shift her body.

To Roshuir, she looked vulnerable, her slender, nude body laid out, tempting to the touch. He quickly removed a pair of gloves from his pant pocket and pulled them tightly over his hands, making sure they were snug.

He was grateful he now had a barrier to protect him from touching her bare skin, since Deena’s pale body was as beautiful as it had been that time they first came together in his bed…in his former quarters. His thoughts turned to desire, mingled with the need to abuse her.

Purging his mind of their encounter, Roshuir began to dwell on a stronger emotion. Hatred returned as he remembered the cost of her betrayal.

“So, you claim to be sorry for the damage you caused…the lives you destroyed…or is this another one of your lies?” Roshuir asked angrily, his face turning ugly, brutish, as he continued. “You’ll see more clearly…and be more truthful…by the time I’m finished with you.”

“What are you going to do to me?” Deena’s voice sounded small and scared.

For a moment, he felt unsure. Could he actually go through with this? Unlike Imperial Intelligence operatives, he was not extensively trained to interrogate a prisoner; and wondered if he could inflict bodily harm upon her in a cold, efficient manner. He cast these thoughts aside, hoping his insecurity had not shown in his hesitancy.

“I have my orders. That’s all you need to know.” He said curtly, glancing up at the ceiling where a hovering IT-O interrogation droid waited for a signal; its dark spherical form programmed to administer drugs that made prisoners more compliant; along with an array of metallic instruments to make the more stubborn subjects capitulate.

Roshuir originally thought he would have the droid carry out the physical part of the session. The instant he entered the room to confront Deena, he decided otherwise.

Her palpable fear gave him a sick sort of pleasure. To have this power over her was intoxicating; the only antidote to the undercurrents of pity that might interfere with his duty.

“IT-O unit…activate…and administer,” Roshuir intoned, knowing the torture droid was programmed to obey his voice and instructions.

Tiny red lights began to blink on the droid; a low-pitched humming noise, followed by periodic higher-pitched blips, sounded as the unit floated downward until it hovered menacingly before the prisoner.

The IT-O unit slowly extended a metallic arm clutching a loaded syringe that just as slowly embedded itself into a wincing Deena’s arm. The droid then retracted the syringe, lifted its round shape upward; back to the ceiling corner; no longer silent; but active and awaiting new orders from the interrogator.

Avoiding Deena’s discomfort, Roshuir focused on the implements laid out on a table before him, his own eyes glittering as his gloved hands toyed over one, then another, until fingers flexing, he finally plucked a small, sharpened blade from among them.

Deena’s senses were becoming heightened; most probably from whatever drug that metal monstrosity had pumped into her veins.

Through her terror, Deena could somehow sense her human tormentor was acting cruelly because of his hurt; trying to hide his emotions behind the mask of an Imperial Captain. His injured pride and trodden heart were just as important to avenge, as were his reputation and his fallen troops. His position gave him the opportunity to achieve this on all accounts.

“You don’t have to make this too difficult.” He spoke, his voice suddenly thick, eyes focusing on a point on the floor.

Deena backed further into the cool metal behind her, tremors beginning to wrack her body. For some reason, his voice frightened her…although his tone and statement were not as harsh as before.

He turned, moving closer to her, encouraging a reaction by carefully running the blade down the soft skin of her exposed underarm, barely touching the pink-tinged flesh.

She froze at the contact, terrified of his hand slipping, of the slicing and inevitable rush of blood, closely followed by a wave of pain…Deena barely registered that she had begun to cry, tears running down her body, unashamedly.

Roshuir suddenly pulled away, watching Deena slump, every part of her relaxing as he retreated from her personal space.

“You can make your stay less painful by co-operating. There are some questions that need answers, and if you don’t answer me…” He didn’t quite finish the sentence, allowing her to fill in the blank, letting her own thoughts unfurl, tormenting her internally.

Almost intimately, he took her chin in his right hand, using his left to brush her mused hair from her face, rubbing the tears from her too-white cheeks. She leaned into the gesture, her own confused feelings more attuned to his.

“I know nothing of importance, Captain…I was a nobody within the Alliance!” She replied sadly, avoiding his gaze.

The tenderness of his touch was shattered as his left hand buried itself in her hair and yanked harshly, twisting and causing her to cry out in pain.

“Wrong answer.”

His words were whispered, yet the effect was like a loud, annoying echo in her ear.

The stuncuff on her right wrist suddenly snapped open, freeing her hand that was grabbed roughly by Roshuir and yanked to him, while the rest of her body pulled awkwardly, painfully from the remaining restraints.

“Answer my questions, or I will break every bone in this hand. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Captain.”

Deena swallowed, and then bit her lip, holding back further tears as he placed a stronger grip on her middle finger. Holding it between his thumbs, he held the tip and put pressure on it. Deena looked into his eyes, and saw the hurt, and the need for vengeance.

“What was your mission objective on Kalist VI?”

A pointless question; with Jorin Sol’s ‘rescue’, it was all too clear what Deena and her companions’ initial objective had been.

“Please, don’t do this…“ She squealed in pain as a vicious snap resounded in the room.

Roshuir’ black-gloved fingers slipped lower, grasping on the next section of bone. He waited for her cries to die down to sobs, hardening himself to pity, that was rising anew.

“I’ll ask you again, and if I’m not satisfied, I’ll crush all of your fingers together, understand?” He spat furiously.

Despite his initial twisted pleasure at being able to punish her, revulsion was rising like a tide. He was beginning to despise himself…and her for making him feel empathy.

“What was your objective?”

“Jorin Sol,” Deena cried out, “we had to get Jorin Sol out…he knew too much…” She whimpered, closing her eyes, shoulders sagging under the weight. “You must have known this”

Another crack and she howled, a second bone broken, the finger now weakened and limp.

“I want to know why you chose me…to lead my men into that cowardly trap”

He pushed on the broken finger, bending it backward, coaxing more excruciating screams from Deena.

Once more, the powerful thrill of making her feel pain helped to quell any feeling of tenderness he had towards her. He held back a smile, his heart racing, and adrenaline pumping. He was there; he was almost there, the answer to the question that had driven him halfway across the galaxy to find her

“You…why I chose you? She sobbed, knowing this was the real reason for her suffering.

Deena knew he didn’t care about information that might help the Empire destroy the Alliance. Hours ago, she had been grilled by Intel, who decided right then and there she had nothing of value to offer.

She wasn’t worthy of their interest, so, they threw her to Kale…who would play with her…until her inevitable execution.

How ironic, she managed to think through her pain, the Alliance nor the Empire thought she was worth much. The only one who ever felt anything for her was Kale…and that feeling was driven by pure hatred.

Deena felt his grip shift to her ring finger, bending it further backwards; she felt it stretched, almost to the breaking point, and then broke down in sobs again.

“I’ll tell you…just stop this, please, “ Deena looked up at him, her once bright, now red-rimmed eyes pleading. “You couldn’t hurt me any more than you already have.”

Kale remained silent; Deena’s racking gasps the only sound coming between them. He looked at her, and then at her swollen hand.

He had her. He was on the verge of getting what he wanted; needed. The truth serum was at its zenith, and Deena was willing to tell him the real reason behind her choosing him for seduction. Was it her just following orders…or something more personal? He had to know.

Roshuir released Deena’s hand, supporting her with his body; he attempted to place her hand back into the restraint. Deena refused to cooperate, immediately wrapping her free arm around his back; desperate for warmth, for any contact he might be willing to give.

The hovering IT-O droid misinterpreted the prisoner’s movement; and proceeded to descend and defend the interrogator.

“IT-O…stand down,” Roshuir said, his voice husky; somewhat stunned by Deena’s tender touch; that seemed strangely out of place after all he had inflicted upon her.

The torture droid obeyed his request; returning to its corner.

“Captain Roshuir,” Deena whispered, “My joining the Alliance was a mistake. They never respected me. I was a joke. Until I met you, I never realized how badly I was treated…how wrong this rebellion is.”

He listened quietly, allowing her to catch her breath in between confessions.

“Yes, I went to your bed, but you never treated me like a whore…you respected me…you were a gentlemen…I betrayed you…and your men…I tried to warn you…but I was afraid to tell you the whole truth…I deserve to be punished…I deserve to die.”

An idea began to grow in Kale’s thoughts, sinking its roots into dismissed dreams; if she might be willing to turn on her former companions, if they could form some kind of mutually beneficial alliance…

“Please don’t hate me, I never meant to hurt you…or your men…I fell in love with you almost from the moment we met. I swear, I’m telling the truth…I even told my companions…the hell with what they might think.” Her face stayed bowed, her fingers grasping and twisting a handful of his tank, pulling him onto her. She began to cry again, and he didn’t move away, holding her close to him. He then released her.

Perhaps their relationship was more than a case of ordered seduction, thought Kale. Even the most accomplished seductress wouldn’t have given in so easily, despite her orders. He knew, deep down, there was more to their initial coupling…and mutual attraction.

“Stop it, Deena.” He sighed, slipping her hand back into the restraints.

Kale held her face up one more time to look into those eyes…not as pretty as when he first looked into them, being red and swollen from her tears, but at least he knew they were honest…the truth serum, mixed with a small amount of the sensation heightening drug Skirtaponol, was still having its effect on her.

Deena looked back, confused, her broken finger hanging pathetically, her lips pouted. She thought he was almost tempted to kiss her…almost.

He turned abruptly from her as if to leave.

“Kale! Don’t go! Please!” He headed to the entry without looking back. The door closed with a hiss behind him, leaving an exhausted, heartbroken, and thoroughly confused Deena pulling at her restraints, begging for her tormenter to return.