Before - Legends Disney animated movie challenge (Lilo & Stich quote), update 6: Orson & the Anil boys, answers

I'm usually a positive person. And I called it like I saw it.

 

Cowgirl Jedi 1701: Being positive at work is no problem with me. I can do so with the usual bunch of children around me, the kiddos with special needs, stressed parents and colleagues in need.

But like most people in a social-pedagogical job I suck in private with positive thoughts for/ about myself.

It is good to have two best friends in that sector, one a SW fan like myself and the other one a Trekkie. And both are clever enough not to have fanfic writing as their main hobby at present...

 

These are lovely and fascinating. I love how you wove the mantra throughout the whole series. Nagina is a woman who manages to be in both worlds, both the tricky and treacherous political world of her uncle and the compassionate world of the foster family and the children she loves so dearly.

I hope that things turn around for you and that you keep writing. I really appreciate the unique way you give us insights into these characters.

 

divapilot: Thanks for your kind feedback.

It was not easy for me to sign up for this challenge, but I tried anyway. My husband DarthUncle believed in me and so did Kahara, who is so generous to beta the main Nagina story for me.

With my answer to the Disney challenge I wanted to show that the darkness & emptiness that Palpatine stands for has no chance in the end. Strong family bonds, like they existed between Luke and Vader in the end, will always win.

 

5. Wilhuff Tarkin (31 BBY, Eriadu, Tarkin family compound)

The harm is done. You can tell that from the way your son gazes at you. There is something that you never have seen in Garoche's eyes before. A tiny spark called hope.

Eriadu is not a place for hope and dreams. It is all about the survival of the fittest. About power and self-control.

Natural selection never favoured sentimentalism. Your cousin Edna is the best example of such failure. The Carrion Plateau became a point of no return for her. Unlike you she had not excelled in the Tarkin family tradition. You had come across her scattered bones during your own initiation ritual.

You look down on the child your wife, Thalassa, has born you five years ago. The living link between the Motti clan and your family. To be related with Conan Antonio Motti is annoying. The man can be tiresome.

A veil slides across your eyes like the nictitating goggles of a stone hawk. “Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten,” you repeat, your lips tight and without joy.

The boy nods slowly. At least he is truthful.

“This is unacceptable,” you state.

You raised a little soldier; somebody who can suffer pain. As swift as a Gurlanin, as tough as nerf leather, and as hard as duracrete. All weakness had to be chiselled away. With drills and laser guns. With push-ups and water cures.

Perhaps you can call for a family council and ask for the favour of sending Garoche into the wilderness before his eleventh birthday has come.

You turn around to face your guests, mostly Senator Palpatine's entourage. But in between the illustrious Coruscanti and Naboo you also spot members of the most prominent Eriadu families. Everybody of political importance is here to celebrate the fact that you have become governor of the entire Seswenna Sector. It is like gazing at a herd of animals, gathered at the watering hole.

An ugly smirk appears on your face. You don't need to hide it. Only Garoche pays attention to you. Everybody else is either busy filling food on a plate, getting a glass refilled by an attending servant or engaging in gossip.

To spot the person who dares to defy your educational methods takes some time. But than she reveals herself to you anyway, because she stands as still as a pillar of salt. She does not interact with any of the other guests and wears a little, somewhat worried frown.

“Got you!” you whisper triumphantly and scan her features thoroughly.

You are known for recalling images, names, words, and numbers with extreme precision.

The woman is about five or six years younger than you. Her brown hair is done in a plain hair style that you believe to be from either Alderaan or Naboo. She is neither a great beauty nor an ugly wench. In her fine clothing she seems totally out of place. Somehow she gives the impression of a servant girl that has stolen into the dinning room, adorned in the garments of her mistress. Like a shy mammal she hovers at the edge of the gathering, holding on to her silver wine goblet.

“Did she tell you her name?” you ask your son.

He presses his lips together as if he tries to be loyal to that total stranger, an intruder.

“Yes, please?” you say, lowering your voice like a dagger.

He is still, like a tiny bird that is dying.

“I grow tired of asking this, so it will be the last time: what is her name?”

A shiver goes through the boy. “Veré, her name is Veré. She is a kindergarten teacher.”

You master yourself at this revelation. Only a muscle in your right cheek twists.

Kindergarten teachers are the worst kind of being that there is in the universe. Starry-eyed idealists who pry into the affairs of other people constantly. Early child education is a family matter only. Social skills, personal hygiene and basic reading skills are a question of parenting and not of the Galactic Republic.

When the first settlers came to Eriadu no soldiers or unworldly Jedi knights helped them to fend off the local fauna or the pirates.

Suddenly, the woman gazes back at you. Across her ordinary face you witness a movement like the shiver of water when a stone crashes the surface. Then her features close up like a Mandalorian war fan.

Puzzled, you watch her coming towards you, never breaking eye contact. She seems like an eopie calf ready for the slaughter, but in the depths of her eyes is a strength you cannot explain to yourself.

“Is this your sire?” she asks Garoche and kneels down to look at him.

The boy nods slowly.

“Could you leave us alone, please?” she requests. “This might get ugly and I do not want you to witness it.”

“You stay were you are!” you command your son.

“Please, Garoche!” she begs quietly.

And then the unbelievable happens, the boy does as she pleas and walks away without looking back. Not even at you.

“How dare you!” you snarl.

In front of your eyes, she seems to become bigger and more solid. “The Convention on the Rights of the Child is the most rapidly and widely ratified interplanetary rights treaty in history.” Her gentle voice is like a whip. “No violence against children is justifiable; all violence against children is preventable.”

“And where did you learn those precious gems of wisdom?” you jeer. “At the University of Alderaan, overcrowded with nut cases, day dreamers and free thinkers?”

Your intense disregard should have unsettled her. Unblinking, she moves on as if you had said nothing of great consequence. “Recognizing that the child, for the full and harmonious development of his or her personality, should grow up in a family environment, in an atmosphere of happiness, love and understanding.”

You take a step closer to her.So close that your chest touches hers. That you can see the pulse in her temple. Her throat is also exposed to you.“ Garoche is my child, not yours, little kindergarten teacher.”

“Do not underestimate the power of Child Care Services! They will be in contact with you soon.”

She turns around to join the other guests again, who are unaware of your little quarrel, but you will not let her slip away so easily.

When your fingers close around her right shoulder blade, she moves with a speed and grace you did not expect her to be capable off.

With your groin and your throat on fire you lie on the floor. But that is not the worst of it. Everybody stares at you, including Sheev Palpatine. The latter even claps his hands together and laughs.

“Oh, Veré!” he chuckles and looks at her lovingly. “It always pays out to have you around. Such fun.”

While the elderly politician laughs on, you swear to yourself that you will have your revenge for this face losing act. It does not matter when or how.

Any mistress will lose her lover's interest at one point. Or she will do something that will upset him very much. Either way Veré will be history eventually.

Much later, Sate Pestage passes you by with a cordial in his hands and whispers barely audibly, “For the record, my dear Wilhuff. Her name is not Veré, but Nagina. Nagina Anil from Chandrila. She is my ward.”




Sources:
“The theory of evolution by natural selection”, first formulated in Darwin's book “On the Origin of Species”(1859)
The Naboo legend of Veré and Seth
Hitler's speech about the German youth:“The weak must be chiselled away. I want young men and women who can suffer pain. A young German must be as swift as a greyhound, as tough as leather, and as hard as Krupp’s steel.”
Slightly altered quotes from 'The United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (commonly abbreviated as the CRC or UNCRC)'
“No violence against children is justifiable; all violence against children is preventable.” (UN Global Study on Violence Against Children, 2006)
Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki
Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia



Perhaps DarthUncle is interested now that his beloved Formula One is over and he knows that Hamilton has the lead position.

And I hope I can lure in Kahara, Darth Gangrenous, earlybird-obi-wan & WarmNyota_SweetAyesha, too.

Oh and Cowgirl Jedi 1701, who just mentioned the events in my main Nagina story!

 

Finally, I was able to write my update! Which makes me overly proud of myself (* see the changed post above).

 

Now I'm actually glad that I listened to all of Tarkin (a book that I was kind of indifferent to), since I can appreciate how this interprets the New Canon version of him and his family's particular brand of awful when it comes to child-rearing! Very suspenseful and interesting throughout. One just hopes that poor Garoche doesn't end up getting punished for all of this, given how such tyrannical parents can be when challenged by outsiders. But maybe Sheev will be in a mood to intervene since he finds the spectacle so entertaining.

 

Well, I did hear you were having thoughts about writing something like this, even before seeing rogue one; but this is still an unexpected pleasure. Tarkin becoming involved with Nagina - and this time a bad actor who's not enamoured of Nagina, and who might give Pestage a way to 'take care' of his ward in a way more in line with his wishes and less in line with that would be the actions of a real warden. And of course, it fits that she's acting like this to help his son, stepping in, like her adoptive parents, for a child in need. Very interesting, given her relation with Palpatine too.

To be honest, while she won this round, it has a bit of the making of a tragedy, since we know Tarkin is around until A New Hope, while we don't know where Nagina is then. I wish her luck!

 

Oh I love learning how Nagina came to her foster family and her impact on others, hard ruthless types like Tarkin and Aurra. She is authentically herself and isn't intimidated by anyone. She is outspoken and warm-hearted at the same time.

 

One never knows with Sheev Palpatine, my dear Kahara. But the child rearing certainly bothered me, too. Via a college of mine I have heard of a kindergarten somewhere in Germany where putting sun lotion on a kid´s skin is regarded as a form of abuse. Imagine that!

DarthUncle, like me Nagina can be pretty annoying: saying her opinion unasked, trying to be a little bit too helpful, doing things in her own, complicated way...

And I do not know what will happen next.

Perhaps my former obsession with another dark night is to blame here.



And a SF novel series that I came across in the middle of the 90ies when I was able to read English books.

WarmNyota_SweetAyesha actually Nagina is afraid all the time, but she might have a little mantra inside her head. Something like:



Who knows?

Fact is that she has Palpatine´s niece and has witnessed the abyss herself. Not only once! That forms, too, I would say.

What she certainly is scared of is that the ones that she loves will get hurt. But unlike her "cousin" Anakin Skywalker, now Darth Vader, she finds different ways to deal with it.

 

Tarkin is just cruel

 

earlybird-obi-wan: He is a man forged by a harsh military upbringing AND his own choices. Each time I see him in his Imperial uniform I have to think about the dark past of my own country. There were those who found pleasure in what they did. When I recently read the thriller "Selfies" of the Danish author Jussi Adler Olson, there was a Nazi officer hiding in Denmark. With his American son-in-law he used to talk about the old times. A brutal hanging was an act of self-defence for him. An invasion was described as an act of courage. I fear you will always find such people who claim that "Der Zweck heiligt die Mittel." (= The end justifies the means.)

 

DarthUncle, Kahara, earlybird-obi-wan & WarmNyota_SweetAyesha. There is another update:



6. Orson Krennic (19 BBY, Chandrila)

For a split second you don't feel anything. But after several heartbeats later frustration kicks in. It spreads in you like some kind of venom.

“He really hung up on me!” you say to no one but yourself.

There is a noise like rushing waves in your head.

You have given the old man too much power over you. This you have to realise the hard way. It chafes.

“Aren't you clever, Palpy?” you growl. “Blaming me for this family reunion here on Chandrila. How convenient!”

You take the holo deceive from your lap and put it next to you.

If you could blow a hole straight into Mistress Anil's head, you would. But you respect that woman too much to lose your countenance around her. She helped Ina to raise you, while your own parents pretty much failed you. That makes Gita family, too. Even her husband Chetan did a lot for you as a child.

Your mouth is but a hard, joyless line, the teeth gritted.

Whether you like it or not, you are part of the extended Anil foster family bunch.

Your hands clench tightly, your fingernails digging into your palms.

“Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten,” a male voice sneers from the outside.

“Go away, Draven!” You shake your fists at the closed toilet door, glad you put the latch down before you got in contact with the Emperor.

Laughter fills the night air. “You are not going to throw with poop again, are you, Krennic?”

“Just shut the freck up, would you!”

The incidence that he refers to happened more than thirty years ago. You had been but a toddler then.

“Or are you playing with yourself in there?” Dravits wants to know.

One day, you will gun down this guy and not even Ina, his ever devoted foster sister, is going to stop you. The blond giant was the terror of your youth and has stayed an immense annoyance ever since. You are sure he does not deserve his ISB officer rank at all. Foul play must be involved.

“Hurry up in there, would you!” he demands. “We need to talk.”

“Just because you have this urge to communicate does not mean that you should bother me.” You grit your teeth. “There is nothing to discuss between the two of us. The Emperor put me in charge of Ina. End of story.”

The cicadas in the grassland around stop their concert.

“Should I shoot the door open?” suggests a second male voice, that you register as Berch Teller.

“Nay!” answers the third mischievous foster brother.

Of course redhead Crix Madine had to join the party.

“You three are very courageous to attack me in a very vulnerable situation,” you state.

“C'mon!” Teller laughs. “You are not really using the stink hole, are you? The Emperor wanted an update on our sister.”

“Even if, Ina is his niece and...”

The toilet house begins to shift back and forth.

“That white uniform of yours is hard to clean, right?” requests Draven in a voice that sounds too innocent to be true.

“This is blackmail!” you challenge the three men, still keeping the door closed.

“Let us assume we are Nagina's lobby,” Draven moves on. “Her home base.”

“Your feelings for her won't change a thing here. I am the one in charge.”

Teller growls like a Wookie ready for attack, but it is the more refunded voice of Madine that says, “Via Nagina I happen to know a lot about her uncle. He is not very forgiving when an underling fails him.”

You get to your feet in one swift movement. “I am not going to fail the Emperor!”

“In the end you have to report to us, Orson,” states Madine matter-of-factly. “Harm one of us and deal with the entire Anil clan! We are legions.”

“You are servants of the Empire,” you bark.

“First of all we are Nagina's brothers and we do not react kindly to your psycho games with her!”

You jerk the latch open and then the door itself. “I freckin' love Ina, too!”

Madine gives you a glance as cold as an Hooth glacier. You can even see it in the semi-dark. His arms are folded across his chest. “Then treat her like a person and not like a treasure of state, would you. She has feelings. Stop hurting her all the time!”

Your back stiffens.

Draven basically drills his right index finger into the centre of your solar plexus. “We will all walk back in there and enjoy the party as long as it may last.”

You have the grace to look a little discomforted. “The Emperor has no wish to blow this party.”

Teller grimaces, his teeth flashing in the cool evening. “Does he really think that this makes up for all the disappointment he caused her?”

You throat goes dry.

This is why Sheev Palpatine will not show up. He is not willing to face his responsibilities. Especially towards those who love Ina as well.

“Not the mission you had hoped for, is it?” asks Madine.

“But you were the only man he could trust with it,” adds Teller.

“From what learned from Nagina, Sith have huge trust issues.” Draven regards you through half-closed eyes like some kind of space reptile. “He could not send his apprentice.”

“His what?” you inquire.

“Sith always come in a set of two. There is a power yielding master and an eager student.”

The talk about Force users makes you uncomfortable. You can only hope that Ina is not invested with Midi-chlorians. But before you can ponder on it, the tunes of a piano fill the air. Then a female voice starts singing,

“Bouncing off of clouds we were

Is there a love lost and found?
Make it easy, make this easy

It's not as heavy as it seems
Wrapped in metal, wrapped in ivy
Paint it in mint ice cream
We could be bouncing off the top of this cloud (I'll put on my silver)

Bouncing off the top of this cloud”

The men around you start to beam like true village idiots.

“Ahetnigac,” cheers Teller and sounds like a teenage boy again. “She and Milo really made it all the way from Coruscant.”

Before you know what is happening, you are left standing on the lawn.

“Thanks for nothing, I suppose!” you mumble.

But then you shut up again, because the song sucks you in.

“Failure to respond but
I did, but did you listen?
Bouncing off the top of this cloud (I'll put on my silver)
About what you said, has it come to this? (I'll put on my silver)
Bouncing off the top of this cloud

Well, you can stare all day at the sky

But that won't bring her back, that won't bring her back
You said you're waiting on fate
But I think fate is now, I think fate is now waiting on us
Make this easy, easy, easy
We could make this easy, easy, love, easy
We could make this easy, make this easy
It's not as heavy as it seems
Make this easy, make this easy
It's not as heavy as it seems
Wrapped in metal, wrapped in ivy
Blue umbrellas now smiling
We could be bouncing off the top of this cloud (I'll put on my silver)
About what you said, has it come to this? (I'll put on my silver)
Bouncing off the top of this cloud (I'll put on my silver)
About what you said, has it come to this? (I'll put on my silver)
Bouncing off of clouds we were”

Music always had a special part in your life, but of late you have neglected her like a castout lover. To be Ina's keeper demands so much from you and sometimes you hate yourself for being harsh on her. But you are also in charge of 'Project Celestial'. You feel like cloning yourself at times.

Suddenly, there is a firm hand on your shoulder.

“Come!” says Madine. “Our Twi'lek foster sister has arrived. She is a damned good singer and an even better dancer.”

“A Twi'lek?”

“Why not?” He does not seem offended by your anti-alien attitude. “My parents take everybody in who needs some love and compassion in their life. Even a Gundark like you.”

You huff. “You make me sound like a lost course, Madine.”

“This is for you to decide.” He shrugs. “All I know is that Nagina loves you like one of us. She has a big, big heart.”

“This is why you guys would regularly beat me up in the old days, right?” you accuse the other Imperial officer straight away. “Because she liked me.”

“You were a psychopath in the making, Orson. Killing animals and such.” He moves back slightly so he can watch my reaction.

“Our culture seems to be fascinated by the idea of child psychopaths.” You narrow your eyes at Madine. “The idea that some infants are born with evil dispositions is somewhat exploited if you ask me.”

“Is it?” He raises an eyebrow in a way that feels like he is both mocking and challenging you. “There is a 41-item check list of psychopathic traits in children.”

“The 'Childhood Psychopathy Scale',” you answer with a nod.

“You know it?”

For a brief moment you close your eyes.

The woman who calls herself your mother was stupid enough to read it aloud one day. And you heard every word of it. You shift slightly by the weigh of that uncomfortable memory.

From the huge living-room cheering can be heard.

“We should go, Orson!” Madine says in a quiet tone of voice.

Your left hand shoots forward and you grab him by his shoulder. “Why are you the only one trying to be nice to me?” you probe. “Draven and Teller hate me with every fibre of their being.”

A sad smile appears in his freckled face. “Around Ina it is hard to think in black and white terms. Of course she supports the light side of the Force, but believing in the good of people means that one comes dangerously close to the untamed beast in each of us. I try to tame mine.”

Silently, you follow him into the Anil family home.




Sources:
The song “Bouncing off clouds” by Tori Amos (2007)
Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki
Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia

 

... Orson is bad news, but clearly his mother wasn't a very good mother to him quite often. I really do like this interaction with the other brothers - Draven isn't a very nice man, is he?! But, I guess he's got more integrity/morals than Krennic.

 

Excellent dialogue & contest of wills. You can tell they all care deeply about Nagina and want her to be happy.

 

Bad mother, bad brother, bad Orson

 

DarthUncle: Since I watched "Rouge One: A STAR WARS story" I am fascinated by the character of Dravits Draven.

As for Orson´s mother, I was thinking she is close to this famous lady:

WarmNyota_SweetAyesha: The next chapters of the main Nagina story will show that.

earlybird-obi-wan: Bad wolf day! Sorry, that is the little Whovian in me. But your cute and short summery really hits it!

 

Here is another one. But careful it contains some spoilers for Nagina´s main story, especially Chapter 35!!!


6. Alexandre Kallus (Lothal, 19 BBY)

When her high-pitched cries sound through the corridor, regret kicks in immediately. You just wanted to teach Mistress Samye a lesson about obedience to the Empire and to Commander Krennic, as her legal guardian, but your superior went too far. Blood runs out of her nostrils and her mouth. She looks like somebody who is either infected by a deadly virus or got beaten up.

While you approach the middle-aged kindergarten teacher, you say, “Milady, I never wanted that to happen.” You are so sorry for her. She deserves much, much better than this. “I was told a courtier was going to meet us, not a grim warrior in armour.”

When you had stepped into your office, the masked giant had waited behind your desk. He had introduced himself to you as Lord Vader, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Forces. You had no reason to doubt him. Of late the old Palpatine has grown a bit eccentric. You believe it has to do with the vile attack on his life by traitorous Jedi knights.

Mistress Samye seemed to know Lord Vader and had shown no fear or distress at his sight. Just sadness. She had taken the box with the forbidden Jedi items from you and had placed it right before him.

Then they had started staring at one another, a silent duel of wills. Until you had not been able to take it any longer.

It was a mistake. You should never have left.

Mistress Samye reminds you of a fleeing eopie, while she storms towards you.

Finally, you stand right before her. When you attempt to touch her, the brown eyes widen.

Blind panic is in them. But her voice is extremely controlled. “Get me home now and on the way contact Doctor Robotham on Coruscant!”

Trembling, she starts walking towards the exit, not paying attention to the curious faces that peek out from the other offices.

You fall in line with Mistress Samye, courting a respectable distance between the two of you. In war time, you have seen trauma victims like her. Brave, but shaken to the core of their being. They gave their best to function before they collapsed.

“Do you need a glass of water?” you suggest, scanning her profile for more visible injuries.

“Not even Corellian whisky can help me now!” she answers somewhat grim. “I want my therapist.”

Her plea guts you. It seems to draw a lot of strength from her to voice her need. In future you will do much better dealing with her trust. Commander Krennic asked you for help, not for making things much more worse.

“Would it help if we sit down for a while?”

She comes to a halt. Her fists press against her brow, hiding her distorted face. “Take me out of this town! And get me Robotham on the line!”

You hurry to the spaceport with her, seeing her strength leaking out of her.

Once she sinks down in the co-pilot seat, she is a mere shadow of her former self.

“Did Lord Vader torture you?” you inquire, your voice soft and careful.

But the harm is done. She gapes at you like you have grown two heads. “I want no more questions!” she shrieks. “Neither from you or from Orson.”

You cannot promise her the latter. The commander will be beside himself. Now that you know that you are dealing with Post-traumatic stress disorder here, you can understand his possessiveness about her, his exaggerated concern.

The words leave your stupid mouth before you can stop them. “Your uncle hurt you a long time ago.”

Her onslaught surprises you and you simply let her fists rain down on you. They do you no great harm. She seems to need it. “Sheev. Saved. Me.”

It is obvious that you have blamed the wrong person for the crime. This is inexcusable, but you are on the right path. It just has been another Palpatine.

A sight leaves your mouth.

There are things about the Imperial family nobody should know.

After a while her attack loses its fierceness and she starts wailing in tones that you never have heard out of her mouth. You would like to console her, but you are actually too afraid to touch her after all you did.

There is a movement outside. A lone figure has approached the platform carrying an all too familiar box.

With your mouth wide open, you leave the ship. “L-l-l-ord Vader!” you stutter.

“Is she well?” the masked man asks.

“Mistress Samye is... she… PTSD,” you babble.

“I see.” You are not sure if he is talking to you or to himself. “It is too late for excuses.”

Whatever this person is, he seems to be a gentleman with principles and morals.

“Give her the box! It belongs to her.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “But, sir...!”

His eerie helmet lowers a bit towards you. “I have decided. Do not concern yourself with my choices! As for the offence report: you did the right thing. It is noted.”

With that, Lord Vader abruptly turns around and walks away, his cape blowing in the wind.

Only now you notice that the box has a self-made ribbon around it. It is in the Imperial colour: Tyrian purple. He really tore an official flag into pieces for doing so. With that he dares a lot, but this new Supreme Commander of the Imperial Forces seems to know little about limits and rules.

A note falls on the ground.

Awkwardly, you fish for it. The envelope says in bady written Aurebesh: 'To Milady'.

You put it between your teeth and start walking back to the ship. Even before you enter the cockpit, you hear Mistress Samye discussing something wildly. “He is not to blame. I let him inside my head.”

She cannot possibly talk about you.

Noiselessly, you put the box down.

“Why should I be proud of myself? I am nothing but exhausted. It was like running against a thick wall.”

Unsure if you should really listen into an emergency session between a therapist and his patient, you keep standing where you are.

“I saw no other option, Sebastian. Stop being so gleeful!”

You decide to boot the ramp.

The sound stops her, but not for long. “No, I am not with Orson, but with a cadet officer that babysits me on his behalf.”

This is not what you would call it. These would not be your words.

“I am not sure if Kallus really wants to talk to you. He only takes orders from Orson.”

As if Krennic was your direct officer-of-the-day. The two of you have a pact concerning the safety of the Emperor’s secret niece. And you broke it today. You can forget about your promotion.

“Extending his trust issues on other people? Well, tell that to Orson. He will bite your nose off for such… To tell you the truth, I am an official hostage of the Empire.”

She is over-dramatising her situation.

“Sheev should not be bothered about it. Family council will not do. He told you before. For his taste, you already know too much about us. If he kills you...”

She breaks out in violent tears again and you stumble into the cockpit.

“Palpatines like... to keep... their dirty... secrets.” She is rocking back and forth. Her breath comes in fits. “This is... why I am... alive still. Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten.”

Alarmed, you kneel down in front of her.

“D-death wish? C-onstantly, b-but he… he will have… have me... brought back. I.. I am sure of it.”

She sinks back into the seat, breathing hard like somebody who gets strangled.

You take her comm and the attached earpiece away from her. There is no protest. She just sits there with her eyes closed and gives into her tears.

“Nagina? Talk to me!” begs a male voice as you plug in the ear piece into one of your own ears.

“She is not able to answer you any more, doctor,” you say. “I am Alexandre Kallus.”

Her therapist growls. Then he says, “You are the one responsible for this crisis.”

“I am afraid that I am, sir!” you give straight back, because there is no point in lying.

“You will get to the next pharmacy and get me the following drugs.”

He names them. Older comrades of yours use those. Those who fought at the front lines of the Clone Wars. At places that were too dirty for the Jedi commanders.

“They contain paroxetine and sertraline. I see no other way at present, because I am not sure if,” he makes a meaningful pause, “The Emperor wants me to go on where I stopped by treatment some weeks ago.”

You are not so sure either.

“But later on I would like to talk to Krennic if possible. For now, do not ask any dumb questions and leave her be! And by all means, do not touch her, unless she explicitly asks for it.”

“I wish I was with her on Lothal right now!” You hear from the strain in his voice that he does his best to stay professional. “Just do me the favour, act like a true officer now, get the medication and bring her home in one piece!”

There was no need to ask you, but you begin to understand the other man's growing dismay even if he is half way across the galaxy.

Mistress Samye has stopped crying, but stares ahead of her.

Your built-in comm begins to rustle. “Command centre to Officer Cadet Kallus. Lord Vader gave you clearance to take-off a while ago and would like to inquire what takes you so long. Over.”

You clear your throat. “This is Kallus. We had a situation here on board. But now everything is under control now. Over.”

“Command centre. Lord Vader inquires if you need him to come back and assist you in getting away. Over.”

You blush. “Kallus. Ready for take-off. Over,” you quickly answer before this escalates.

“Command centre. Hopefully. Over.”

In a trance, you push the buttons for starting procedure.

“Alexandre?” asks a meek voice next to you.

Blinking, you look into the tear stained face of Mistress Samye. She used your given name, but it is alright with you. “Yes, please?”

Tentatively, one of her hands reaches out for you and you take it. Her dorsum feels wet.

“Lord Vader did… not hurt me,” she slurs. “I... I hurt him before he could. Offence is the best defence.”

Your engines are on and therefore you cannot wonder about her testimony for too long.

“Command centre,” blares your comm connection. “A medical parcel is on its way to Jhotal. There is no need for a detour. Mind your own parcel now! Regards from Lord Vader. Over.”



Sources:
Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki
Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia

 

Intense and enjoyed the musings of Kallus on Nagina, the Emperor, etc. She has definitely gained his sympathy.

 

Quite good, your young Madine piece, seeing him at the transition from Republic to Imperial service, as well as his two Republic Intelligence' mates who were moved into ISB.

Nice mix of thoughts on the "official line" on Order 66, homely arrangements for a family reunion, and brotherly suspicion of Director Krennic's intentions towards their sis.

Best line was referring to an Imperial cap as a toilet lid.

 

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha = I actually liked writing Kallus, for his thoughts are not as tangled as Krennic´s. Thanks for stopping by!

@Sith-I-5: I feel very honoured that you took the time to comment on this thread.

Writing the past vignettes, on which you commented, helped me a big deal to deal with the loss of my former best friend, the unborn child of my best woman & my dad last year. But mostly, it helped me to deal with the loss of my comfort zone. In January 2017 I decided to leave a kindergarten that I worked at for 3 years within a wonderful team that I liked and with children that I loved. All for an uncertain future! Dignity has a price!

I was a bit scared if I could really write a young Crix Madine, but once I sat down, my fingers moved over the keyboard of my laptop all by themselves. The rest kicked in automatically.

 

Aww, I almost feel sorry for Kallus there in the end, but, he has a lot to learn still, our young Alexander.

And wow, Nagina managed to make Vader show some sort of kindness, like he usually only shows to his soldiers (and Kallus there, before he messes some more with him, that odd Vaderesque humour. dangerous to have seen him show a softer spot

I wonder how kallus will think of this moment after the last chapter of her Rage story ...

 

@DarthUncle: I did it again. Making you feel sorry for other men!