During my time in the prisoner women's quarters I had amused myself by reconfiguring the viewing screen, which somehow had been left unlocked, until I tapped into the bridge surveillance cameras. I could see all that the Dark Lord could see from his very throne, including Vader himself when he came to the bridge. Admiral Piett's bearing was perfect; he showed neither nervousness nor alarm when Vader was watching, appearing to trust that quiet efficiency would be justly approved. As for me, I approved; the men under him listened carefully, obeyed smartly, didn't loaf or put out less than their best. A good sign, I thought. Everything about him pleased me. And need I say how my eyes dwelled on his straight carriage, his broad shoulders, his elegant legs in their tall boots...

When at last I stood with the others for the sharing-out, I knew what I had to do. Vader hastened down the line of women, barely looking at us, thrusting a finger at one man or another and gesturing for him to take the woman he indicated. Striding past me, he pointed at some beefy youth. I spoke firmly, but softly. "No, Lord Vader, " I said. "You are making a mistake."

Astounded, he almost lashed out at me with his mind, but stopped. He stood still for a moment, the blank black insect-face before me, and I did not drop my gaze.

"Who, then?" he rasped at last.

"That one," I said, and I pointed.

Piett's face froze. I read resistance in every line of his body, and I read his reluctance to object.

Vader moved on. "Give no further trouble," he flung back over his shoulder. I did not have to answer.

I was taken to the Admiral's quarters. They were not roomy, but there was a kind of masculine luxury there; a brocaded spread on the pleasantly wide bed, a rug on the floor made from the hide of some spotted animal, a metal sculpture of a racing beast. I studied the ancestral tapestries that covered one wall; his home system, clearly, with unusual looking trees and one moon in the sky.

When Piett strode into his cramped quarters he found me sitting quietly on the bed. He thrust aside the embroidered hangings and looked at me sternly. I looked up at him, and he read in my eyes no fear, only admiration and desire. I saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes; had he little experience, then, in taking captives? He stood as stiffly as if on parade.

"Undress," he commanded.

I smiled.

Start as you mean to go on, I thought. Let him know he can have the best. I sat back, propped myself on my arms and said, "I've got a better idea. You undress."

Again that flicker of uncertainty, then he was again in control.

"Do as you're told," he snapped. "Remember your place or it will be the worse for you." He reached out a hand as if to strike me, but seemed unwilling to carry through; and I sat up and took his hand.

"There's no need for this, Admiral Piett," I said softly. "Why force yourself through a tiresome rape when you can simply lie back and be enjoyed?"

Caught off guard, Piett allowed himself to show his complete bewilderment. I rose to my feet, and my eyes held his. He was intoxicatingly close; with an effort I mastered myself and managed to draw back.

"You need rest," I murmured. "Sit".

Piett did so. I knelt at his feet, pulled off his boots, laid them neatly aside, took one of his stockinged feet and ran my thumbs down the sole. Involuntarily he wiggled his toes, and I allowed myself a silent giggle. When had this soldier had anyone make love to his feet? Such was our first caress.

After paying my attentions to both feet, I rose, daringly sat down beside him and picked up his hand and began a hand massage. They were strong hands with square nails, and I felt faint with the thought of having these hands on my body. I circled my thumbs on his palms, squeezed each finger in turn and wiggled it gently in its socket, slid my fingers between his.

"Piett," I mused, looking up at him "After whom are you named? Some great artist or hero?"

"After my father," he said shortly.

"And was he in the Imperial service?" I asked.

"Yes," said he with obvious pride. "And his father, and generations before that."

I asked him about his home planet, and soon he was telling me about his rise in the Imperial navy, but when he reached the point of his promotion to admiral he fell silent, and again a brooding expression came into his eyes.

I took his hands. "Why do you serve Lord Vader?" I asked.

Abruptly he cast me aside and jumped to his feet. "It is my family tradition." he said angrily. "Lord Vader is the Emperor's trusted servant."

"Indeed," I said, smiling as I rose. "He is a mighty warrior. But he is dangerous, because he envies you." My admiral frowned, and I said, "You have something he can never have."

I drew very close. I saw the smooth weave of his uniform; the finest cloth, I thought, that any system had to offer, for the finest officer.... Piett didn't seem to know what I meant, but his heart was telling him. "What do you mean?" he asked in a low voice.

"The love of women," I murmured.

I put my hands on his shoulders. Yes, the cloth was soft under my fingers as I gently caressed him. I wanted this uniform away now, nothing between this man and my yearning hands. "You're handsome," I breathed, and I kissed his mouth.

My heart was racing, I trembled, his arms went round me and at last I stood in his embrace, telling him with every molecule of my being that here was something new for him, a woman who had chosen him out, who knew the best and was taking it, who would enjoy him with her lips and hands and body and mind, surround him as his ship held its atmosphere and breathing him in like oxygen, delighting in him as he has never experienced before.