Harbinger

Disclaimer: I don't own them, and I've received no remuneration. I just like to play, and play I shall.
Thanks to Alisha Steele. for beta'ing all of my work, her suggestions and help have been invaluable.

***Feedback is always welcome and encoraged. If you like it, please let me know to help inflate my ego. If you don't like it, take a hike. No, really, if you don't like it, tell me why. Then take a hike.

CHANDRILA, CHANDRILA SYSTEM, KINZUA SECTOR

Four year old Preitha was sitting curled at her father’s feet when the soldiers came. Antath Skarin had been reading her favorite story from his datapad.

The stormtroopers blasted through the door, blowing the thin durasteel panel off its’ hinges to send it crashing into the far wall; an unnecessary display of force, since the door had been unlocked to begin with. They rushed forward with the controlled speed of hardened warriors to grab Antath by the arms. One soldier hauled Preitha to her feet and held her with equal indifference, ignoring the tears of fear and confusion that were now sparkling in her eyes.

“We’ve secured them, Commander Motti,” another ‘trooper spoke into his commlink.

“Where are they?” a voice asked.

Preitha heard the young soldier before she saw him.

Her father said nothing. He simply stared forward, unmoving.

“Where are they, citizen?” Motti demanded.

“I don’t know, sir,” Antath finally answered, casting a glance towards his daughter. He smiled weakly at her, attempting to sooth her.

“Three rebels were seen leaving this house,” the young Commander snarled. “You have aided the rebellion, and you ‘will’ tell me where they have gone! Or,” he reached out a hand to stroke Preitha’s hair, “I fear the innocent will be the ones who will suffer most.”

“No!” Antath howled. “She doesn’t know anything! She didn’t even see them!”

“See who?” he asked with a smirk.

“Look, they came to me and asked for help. I told them I couldn’t help them. I am loyal to the Empire! I swear it!”

“Tell me where they went,” Motti said, his hand still resting casually atop Preitha’s soft brown curls.

“I don’t know,” her father pleaded. “I… I gave them my airspeeder, just so they would leave us alone. I don’t know where they went. They didn’t tell me - I didn’t want to know! Please, don’t hurt her.”

Motti smiled. “Tell me where they went.”

“I don’t know!” Antath cried.

“Yes,” Motti mused, as he withdrew his blaster and aimed a single shot at Antath’s heart. “I believe you.”

Eighteen Years Later

DEATH STAR BATTLESTATION, CORUSCANT SECTOR

Preitha stalked the corridor outside Admiral Motti’s quarters with animalistic impatience. He’d summoned her over an hour ago, and then had refused to admit her when she’d arrived. Her brown hair, still impossibly curly, was pulled into a stern bun at the nape of her neck. Her nose was regal and aquiline, and her green eyes were clear and calm. Her face was plain and free of make-up, such things were a luxury for the frivolous and unfocused. Preitha tugged at the hem of her uniform jacket, pulling the grey material until it snapped tightly against her neck. She was an attractive woman, but downplayed her beauty with a stern, no-nonsense countenance.

At long last, the door slid open and she entered the spacious apartments, making her way to the study. Motti was standing next to a conference table placed at the far end of the room. Grand Moff Tarkin was seated at its’ head.

“…arriving in just a few days, Admiral,” Tarkin was saying. “This will not help our aspirations in any way.”

“Ah, Preitha!” Motti exclaimed, holding out his hands to her when she appeared in the doorway.

“Father,” she said, placing her hands in his and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Grand Moff, I don’t believe you’ve met my daughter, have you? She has just arrived from Imperial Center, having completed her Lieutenant training.”

“A Lieutenant already?” Tarkin asked politely. “Most impressive, Admiral.”

“She will surpass us both before long, I fear,” he said with a smile. “Her cunning impresses me more with each passing day.”

“I strive only to serve the Glory of the Empire, father,” Preitha replied.

“The path to glory is at times, clouded, child,” Tarkin told her cryptically.

“Then I shall also strive to uncloud it, Grand Moff,” she answered with a lofty smile.

“Hm. And what do you think of our new weapon?” he asked, his hawkish features narrowing as he awaited her response.

“I find it quite large,” she quipped. Motti hid a smile at her audacity. “The rebel alliance would be hard pressed to mount a suitable defense.”

“How old are you, child?”

“Twenty-two, sir.”

“Take your hair down,” Tarkin ordered suddenly.

Preitha glanced over at her father, who nodded slightly. Reaching up, she pulled her hair free of the pins and clips that held it back and allowed it to fall down her back. The curls immediately spilled over her shoulders, softening the hard features of her face.

Tarkin turned to Motti. “You’re right, Admiral. I believe she will do nicely.”

Preitha again looked to Motti, clearly confused.

“We are expecting an important guest,” he explained. “Grand Moff Tarkin and I need you to… distract him as best you can. There are certain dealings aboard this station that he might be unreceptive to.”

“Who is this guest?”

Tarkin’s face darkened as he supplied the answer. “The Sith Lord, Darth Vader.”

Preitha blinked. “Vader? He’s second in command to the Emperor!”

“Not aboard this station!” Tarkin barked sharply. “I am in charge here.”

She lowered her head. “Forgive me, Grand Moff. But… how am I expected to distract a Sith Lord?”

Tarkin sneered. “You’re a woman; a cunning one, if your father is to be believed. I’m confident you’ll think of something.”