Of The Force

A Good Girl

There was an unnatural sort of silence to hyperspace. As though light speed wanted nothing but that roaring silence, that it tried to rip the mere thoughts from your mind. Cordelia had only travelled at light speed a handful of times, but it was a feeling one didn't forget. She blinked her eyes rabidly, eyes struggling to focus in the lowlight of the hull.

Her arms were secured over her head, hooked to a chain dangling down from the ceiling of the vessel. She was on the lower level, a balcony surrounding the open space. She was alone.

The privacy gave her a moment to take an inventory of her body. She was still clothed but her head ached something fierce. The skin around her wrists burned as if rubbed raw from the chaffing ties securing them. Her feet just barely touched the ground, enough that she was about to push herself up on the tips of her toes so that the strain on her limbs was lessened.

The gag in her mouth was soaked through with saliva. When her mind took hold of that fact, she began tasting the moist fabric and her gag reflex took notice.

That was how the Knights found her, straining against the bonds that held her upright, retching around the gag in her mouth. There were only four of them, leaving Cordelia to wonder where the missing two were. One of them chuckled at the sight of her, sending a wave of embarrassment and rage burning through her blood. But it was helpless. Once she had started gagging, she couldn't stop, bile rising in her throat, burning it raw.

One of the Knights came forward, the one who'd wielded the war hammer. His helm was dented with dual breathing tubes. He reached out and undid the gag, as if tired of hearing her retching. With the slip of fabric removed from her mouth, saliva dripped from her gaping mouth, trying her best to ignore the lingering taste.

Mind over matter, right?

The Knight before her reached out again, grasping her jaw and raising her face as if to examine her further. The movement resulted in exactly what she had been trying to avoid, tasting the foul lingers of the gag. When his thumb swiped over the line of saliva covering her chin, her anger soared.

Before Cordelia could think better of it, a wad of saliva was sailing through the air and splattering on the Knight's helm. Behind him there was a muffled chuckle, barely discernible through the helms.

"I see where your son gets his valour. You named him well." The Knight before her said, something like approval in his voice.

"Where is my son?" Cordelia seethed.

"He is on the flight deck with Kuruk. He's nothing to fear from us, now that he's agreed to come willingly."

"What do you want with him?"

"He is Force sensitive. We are returning him to the Steadfast to be trained with the other children."

"Why."

"That is not for you to know."

"Like Hel, he is my son. And I -"

"Would be dead, if he hadn't proven what a difficult passenger he would be if Ap'Lek had been successful."

He must have been referring to the axe wielding Knight who'd tried beheading her. When her gaze found his battered, patchwork helm, standing a few feet behind the Knight before her, he nodded his head ever so slightly to her as if in greeting. Or promise of a job left unfinished, one he wasn't soon to forget. Cordelia narrowed her eyes at him in challenge.

You had your chance, you won't get another.

As she had so many times in the past, Cordelia's vision dimmed and an image flashed. Instead of staring at the masked face of Ap'Lek, she saw a fully male visage. All sharp angles, with narrowed eyes and full lips, a single scar tore through his rich copper skin, down the left side of his temple, hugging his high cheek bone. As quickly as it had appeared, it was gone once more. As if sensing a change in her, Ap'Lek's helm tilted to the side. A predator examining its prey.