Everything belongs to George Lucas and Lucasfilm! If something doesn't
belong to him-- I will give it to him with the greatest pleasure!
:-) The "main editor" Blitzen has all rights to use it
as she will find necessary! And anybody who will want to use it
as the base for something much more interesting-- please take it
and use it! It's free!
began from an annoying mistake. I should say-- from a tactless
deed. Of course, I was in a hurry to make amends, but--
It's me. The young, super-sexy, clever lady with long, dark-brown
hair, bright blue eyes and snow-white dazzling smile. Sure, your
imagination will supplement the rest. I know that some women spend
millions of Imperial credits to get this kind of beauty. I got
it free. From IMIC--Imperial Military Industrial Corporation--
the absolute property of His Imperial Majesty. It was a very generous
but very devious gift. Sometimes I ask myself: Why did they create
me this way? To make the death which I hide inside my superattractive
shell look a bit less awful? Or did our congenital attraction
to physical beauty play its part here? But if I am nothing more
than a weapon with a simple and clear function-- why do I have
the ability to make my own decisions and to act like a normal
human being? Why do I have normal human emotions and human reactions
to the emotions of others around me? Probably I will never be
able to understand it at all, but maybe it's all for the best.
memory returns me to the moment when I realized myself as "something"
for the first time. The space is full of bright light-- a chaos
of colorful spots in the mist-- an indistinct noise. Gradually
everything comes into focus. I am in an enormous hall which is
full of light. I hear the drone of thousands voices. I see a whirlpool
of human faces. Here are people in civilian clothes and all different
color Imperial uniforms. I am standing in a line with others "male"
and "female" in jumpsuits with whole armor, and uniforms
with more less variation. Men and women in black, gray, dark green
and blue uniform. There is a similar line opposite me. The large
crowd of people continues its movement between us. Two men are
walking near me-- an evil-looking old man in a strange dark-blue
cassock, and a huge, frightening figure in black. The old man
leans on a metal walking stick, and talks to his companion in
black. I know them-- the Emperor and Lord Vader. Our bodies and
souls belong to them.
endless stream of people. Suddenly two men stop near me for moment.
One of them is short, but excellently well-built. Dark gray Imperial
uniform, the rank--nothing less than an admiral. The smooth pale
face, an attentive and quick glance of shining gray eyes. He smiled
at me and I felt the warm wave which touched me slightly. His
companion is very tall and very aristocratic-looking man, with
a fine long pale face, light hair, very deep firm voice, icy light-blue
eyes. His rank is Captain--
at this! Improved samples."
you so! The choice is excellent."
just wait a bit for Veers. He will be working with them and we
need his opinion."
down her number and serial code."
The tall man
writes something on a small datapad.
young lady, we will see you again!" They smile at me again
and disappear into the human stream...
Here is a
jump of memories. I am on "Executor''. There were training
sessions, military actions, more training. I could see my life
as if from a very long way off-- without any stormy emotions.
I was carrying out my duties. That was all. There was no place
or time for deep thoughts. The man with the shining gray eyes
is now my commander, and my god. The God of War. Our Admiral Piett.
I escorted Lord Vader. That was my duty, too, but most of my time
was spent with Admiral Piett and his commanders. They were amazingly
polite, with a normal human attitude toward us, as if we were
absolutely normal real people, rather than some kind of droids
with human shells. But only much later, did I get an opportunity
to know how really tolerant and good they were. That was the moment
when I met Jerjerrod. That moment, when I met him...
* * *
I had met many men before. I liked to look audaciously, but cold-bloodedly
into their eyes to provoke their lust, while thinking about tearing
off their uniforms and caressing their hot, magnificent bodies.
I so enjoyed it when I saw the fire of the same dark crazy thoughts
reflected in their eyes. That was an absorbing and dangerous game.
But I always wanted more. Much more. Something to make me crazy,
when my body is shaking and burning like it is on fire and wild
shouts break free from my unwilling throat.
was waiting for him. Even I had no idea about his existence in
this world, until that one moment. That was the moment of truth.
I met him for the first time during an inspection on the second
Death Star. I was among a retinue of Imperial officers which was
escorting Lord Vader. To escort the Dark Lord never was a very
pleasant duty, but fate decreed that this ordinary trip would
turn my life up side down. I met him, and that meeting tore my
heart and filled my soul with the sweet poison of love. This tender,
intoxicating poison has already overflowed into my veins and it
will destroy me after some time, but for a while I can live with
it. Well, it looks like my creators didn't give me the matching
antidote. I know I will never be the same person again.
When I saw
him-- tall, thin, arrogant and incredibly elegant-- walking to
us between the ranks of Imperial forces, I thought I would go
mad. His gait was swift, graceful, light. He was walking to us,
barely touching the glassy floor with his feet, and that bouncy,
light step was taking away my consciousness and the sense of reality.
I wanted him. I was wishing for him since the first second. Since
that moment when our eyes met. I was standing behind Lord Vader.
He was talking about something to Vader, but I didn't listen.
I was looking at him. Only at him. I could almost physically feel
the silk of his hair, I saw and felt the rhythm as his chest rose
up and down with his breathing. I caressed with my glance the
tender, velvet skin of his pale cheeks. He continued to talk to
Lord Vader, swift, clipped words, but the meaning didn't penetrate
my consciousness. In that moment Vader told him something with
a very firm voice and he turned ashen. He cast a quick glance
above Vader's shoulder, like he wanted to find some protection
from anybody, and I caught his eye. I felt I would drown in the
cold depth of these dark emerald-blue eyes. My heart stood still
with every movement of his eyelashes. It was my captivity and
I didn't even try to avoid it. I wanted it with all my heart and
soul. In that moment I almost hated Vader, because those dark-blue
eyes were looking at him and not at me. The glance of these shining
anxious eyes didn't belong to me. It wasn't mine. Vader could
touch him, but I couldn't. He was looking at Vader and talking
to him--not to me. It was agonizing even for me. Probably, Vader
felt something. For a second he cut short the conversation and
that awful black metal mask flashed, turned to me. I kept an inscrutable
appearance, but I was shaking on the inside. Well-- if I am going
to be a real human being-- I must know about dark side and about
human nature too.
* * *
A bit later,
in the conference room on the new Death Star... Lord Vader left
us for some time and the situation is much more relaxed.
That man is
talking to other officers and he doesn't look at me. He is doing
it theatrically. I can see it absolutely clearly. But even in
this deliberate resistance I can feel his sensual male charm,
summoning almost bestial passion with his elastic, shapely body.
The officers had gathered into a big group and they were discussing
something with animation. He was listening, sometimes he answered
somebody, sometimes he laughed, and this blatant teasing laughter
was in excellent harmony with the haughty beauty of a man who
knows very well his own value. Every part of him was a challenge
to me-- the straight line of his shoulders, the sharp glance of
his dark blue eyes, the thin straight nose, his small arrogant
chin-- everything embodied temptation. He was talking to an officer
who stood near him. The elderly officer was explaining something
with great enthusiasm to him and the others. He listened, sometimes
he answered, but that was only for the sake of appearances. His
slender nostrils were shuddering anxiously and his eyes looked
sharply around. His glance was roving constantly, as he talked
to the others. Only I wasn't in his field of vision. It annoyed
me. I took a step toward the wall, where I could watch him freely
for myself and not be noticed by the other officers, and I started
to seek out his glance. Well, he noticed it, turned slightly toward
my observation point, but he did it as if it was absolutely accidental.
He didn't avoid my glance, even sometime was answered it, but
his eyes didn't stay long on my side. When his glance was falling
on me-- it looked full of desire for intimacy, but he met the
glances of all present with the same cold shine in his emerald-blue
eyes. He didn't cut short the conversation with the officer who
was standing near him even for a second, pretending to be very
interested. There was something incredibly audacious and self-confident
in his behavior. And now I didn't look into his eyes, but absolutely
frankly examined him from head to foot, tearing off his clothes
with my glance and imagining him naked in my embrace. He followed
my glance absolutely quiet and smiled with the corner of his arrogant
lips, and I read approval in that slight smile. It was obvious
that he is a fitting partner and that he has a perfect command
of technique in this risqué performance. He was inciting
my lust very skillfully, listening to the conversation at the
same time and he was doing it with entire indifference. That was
driving me mad. His cold, malicious, calculating man's flirting
had too much similarity with my own nature. I slowly approached
him and looked directly into his eyes, saying with my glance,
I want you, you charming, arrogant MALE! Now I was looking at
him with an impertinent, almost offensive invitation. For a second
his eyes flared with fury, which he kept inside, but he immediately
calmed down. Imperial Moffs certainly know how to keep up appearances.
Well, he won this round. But I wasn't finished with him. Not yet.
* * *
The next inspection
trip with Lord Vader on the Death Star. This time Admiral Piett
himself is here with us. This is an ordinary meeting for supreme
officers. And there is nothing unusual-- reports, discussion of
the situation, analysis of events. A very ordinary routine. While
my body is doing my duties, my brain and vision are acting separately.
I can see him again. My glance followed the sharp bend of his
light eyebrows, sinks into the icy cold depth of his emerald-blue
eyes, makes the haughty pressed lips relax and open for a passionate
shove of the admiral's elbow immediately returns me to the reality.
Lord Vader has already twice asked me about something. I should
be more careful. Thanks to all the powers of this universe-- everything
comes to an end, and this meeting is no exception. A bit later
we had a dinner with other local officers and again I was an eyewitness
of the unquestionable authority of Admiral Piett. Stormtroopers
and several TIE-pilots-- "aborigines" suddenly started
a big quarrel with a few pilots from our crew and the situation
started to get out of control quickly, but the admiral instantly
brought them to heel with only a few words, which he threw to
them offhandedly. These words, very cold and imperious, had an
effect on the men like hypnosis, and order was restored immediately.
In the enormous
empty corridor near the conference room I was astonished by a
very odd sound. I listened to voices--there was no mistake-- Lord
Vader and Moff Jerjerrod were quarreling. They almost resorted
to shouting. The terrifying heavy voice of the Dark Lord rumbled
even through thick steel walls: "Commander, if I maintain
something, it means only one thing-- it is a fact! Oh, yes! Yes!
The Emperor himself talked about it! Of course! Yes! And now I
can tell you-- all these superstations are rubbish! You have spent
years to build it-- I can destroy it in a few seconds. What are
you talking about? Maybe. Maybe it's a great idea! But here is
one problem. Other people exist in our galaxy. And these people
have their own great idea, to destroy us along with our idea.
Oh yes! The Emperor promised it to you! Commander, you choose
not to understand me. You don't even want to listen me. Now I
can see you are going to repeat the fate of Tarkin. The Emperor
gave his word to him, too. And to Admiral Motti. And to General
Tagge. And another couple million with them. Do you know what
happened to them? Sure, you know about it. I hope so, Commander,
for your own sake. What? Commander, don't play with my patience.
You have almost exhausted your limit."
I will not
forget this moment. Never till the end of my life. But my life
is supposed to be very long. Almost everlasting. "...till
death separates us." Or I will do something with myself.
I can see Vader near an enormous round table and-- and that angry,
thin, nervous, ashen face with shaking white lips and black gloved
hands, convulsively gripping the rim of the table. Suddenly, the
moff straightens up with improbable exertion, and reels, holding
his throat with one hand, while charging toward the door. He almost
runs out of the room. A second later, to my surprise, absolutely
instinctive, as if my will doesn't rule my own body any more,
I am dashing with hurried steps after him. I caught up with him
in the distant end of the corridor. Probably, the moff heard my
steps. He abruptly turned around. Dark, furious, icy-cold eyes
looked at me fixedly, but puzzled, from under haughty, arched,
light eyebrows. Obviously, he is stunned to be disturbed by such
unheard-of insubordination: some junior officer dares to follow
him without his permission! I stopped two steps away from him.
He looked at me very spitefully, ready to yell at the top of his
voice, but something in the expression on my face made him very
anxious. An inexplicable feeling forced me to go after him and
now I completely realized all the consequences of my extremely
incorrect and tactless behavior. The fact that I am the "proxy"
of Lord Vader and Admiral Piett means nothing. Inside the Imperial
military, really, other rules have power. They are unwritten,
but they have the stringent, iron power of the law, and these
unwritten rules are strictly followed by all Imperials. And the
great Force help that person who will be so mad as to break these
In order to
diffuse the situation I must say something immediately, it doesn't
matter what. "Sir, excuse me, please, Sir! Could I have a
word with you?"
Right now?!! "He gave me a dark, barbed glance. There was
a long moment of silence. "Well, let's go. Follow me."
We went to
his personal office together. That place is an amazing combination
of a functional control center with the luxury of a palace study.
He is a man with nice, very refined taste and also has the steel
grip of a skilled administrator, fanatically devoted to the idea
of Empire-- even if this Empire can take his life with his breathing
at any moment. Sometimes it's a deadly dangerous combination to
find in a human personality. The enormous crystal ceiling light
above us shimmers with smooth rainbow light. The light pours over
dark-gray walls with a shining haze, touches the spines of books
and folders and makes them twinkle with blue gold. The black velvety-soft
leather gently caresses my body when I sit down.
for a moment and came back with two wineglasses. Something the
color of dark red amber flickered and foamed in them. The frosty
spicy aroma flooded the room. As a warm host he offered one to
me. He knew that I was here for some purpose. It made him anxious.
I saw an implied question in his eyes.
I didn't need
to try to think up a topic of conversation-- the words came by
themselves. For the first time in my "life" a senior
officer was talking to me without the arrogance dictated by subordination.
We talked about something-- it scarcely mattered what. I drank
a half-glass of something incredibly delicious and fragrant that
burst with billions of small bubbles on my tongue. My body suddenly
became amazingly light and my head started spinning pleasantly.
We were sitting so near that I could feel the warmth of his well-built
body. Only by exertion of my will was I holding myself and my
hands and suppressing the desire to press that trim, warm body
against me with one jerk and to shower him with kisses. It concerned
me-- being seated near him, entertaining him with conversation--
to see the way his firmly pressed lips open with a smile, or from
time to time, when he is ready to flare up with irritation, to
suppress his impatience with one slight touch of my hand and to
get back to that very long, tender glance of sparking blue eyes.
his thigh with my knee and he shuddered hard. Already I was looking
into his eyes, my meaning clear to see. His face grew pale, then
color flooded back into his cheeks. His eyes sparkled feverishly.
He understood me completely. He is a bit embarrassed, even frightened,
but there is no need to pretend any more. Now he knows that I
am here only for him.
his shoulders and carefully touched his hot, soft cheek with my
palm. His shining eyes misted over with passion. He slightly tossed
back his head and I touched the pale, tender skin of his neck
with my fingertips, admiring its elegant line. I felt his pulse
beating under my fingers. I saw the secret bends where his soul
was running and hiding. There was something mysterious, something
tacit and almost criminal in his evasive, moist glance from under
long, lowered eyelashes. I stroked his soft, silky hair and he
smiled at me with his frank, shy and passionate smile. I pulled
his head to me with force and firmly kissed him on the lips. His
lips were hot. He accepted my kiss with almost animal greed. I
squeezed him in my embrace. Probably I miscalculated the inhuman
strength of my "super-attractive" body. What a harsh
irony of fate! I was created by my engineers not to make love--for
absolutely the opposite aim. But now I was going to take a stand
against this fate.
broke free from my arms, leapt to his feet and stood up, snuggling
up to the wall. He had guessed about me and now he was scared
to death. And there was nothing I could do, but only-- I stood
up and slowly approached him. Bright feverish spots shone on his
cheeks. He whispered something inaudible with his parched, swollen
lips. His eyes were absolutely crazy and had dark shadows are
under them. Silently I grasped and squeezed the elegant wrists
of his slender, flexible hands and moved my body against him and
firmly, greedily, bit, with my lips, his hot sweet mouth. Everything
was fading in front of my eyes. A choked cry escaped from the
depth of his throat. A terrified shudder shook his body. In our
silent wrestling we brushed against metal shelves and something
fell down with an awful racket. We fell down together, too. But
we didn't care. Nothing had meaning for us any more. I have no
idea how long all this went on--maybe minutes or hours, maybe
forever. He writhed convulsively, crying out and melting in my
arms. I drank up the sweet moisture from his hot tender lips.
I buried my face in his silky soft hair. I pressed him against
me strongly that it was as if his heart was beating in my own
chest. He groaned with pain and passion. I clung to his neck and
caressed its tender, pale, almost translucent skin. Something
like an overwhelming current pierced our bodies and the dark stream
of bestial passion washed us into the abyss. He gave a desperate,
harsh shudder, a convulsive cry and again there was a wild frenzy
of movements. His strong, flexible body writhed in my arms. One
last thrust-- and then the sweet glooming of our consciousness,
as almost deadly agony overwhelmed us.
For few moments
only our breathing disturbed the quiet in the room. I stroked
his strong back with my palms. He was lying on my chest. His eyes
were closed and only his soft wounded lips are shuddering inaudibly.
This is the moment I could die for. To die for him. Only if I
could die like a human being. But I am not a human.
* * *
Back on "Executor".
I stood near the panoramic window of the main brige and looked
at the enormous metall ball-- the monstrous creation of unhealthy
imagination and technical genius. I was thinking about the pricelesstreasure
which this steel shell hid deep inside. He is there, in the heart
of the "bowl", at it's bottom. What was he doing now?
Maybe he was looking at our elegant destroyer and our glances
touched each other, and we didn't even know it?
He would be
mine. Nobody else had any right to possess him. Not the Emperor.
Not Vader. How dare they to treat him like that?! How dare they?
For the next
several days I was extremely busy, but at last all the meetings
were finished. I went to the Death Star again. It seemed very
strange that nobody greeted me in the main dock. In his office
I found only his aide. He smiled at me ambiguously and pointed
to the slightly open door of his private quarters. I walked into
his bedrrom. For some moments I stopped near the big bed and looked
at him. He was sleeping. I never had an opportunity to look at
him so intently. Just like all very sensitive and nervous people,
he instinctively resists such insistent glances. But now I have
I sat down,
very quietly, near him. The shadows under his eyes, the light-blue
veins on his temples, the fine, almost translucent skin on his
cheekbones-- everything revealed to me how vulnerable and unprotected
he is in this world. Vulnerable without me. Only that shell of
fine alabaster-pale skin shell protects him from the unending
nightmare which had become our way of life. Perhaps I made a sudden
movement. The noise was insignificant, but he woke up immediately.
focused on me and at once became fixed and alert, but that was
just a visual contact, which still didn't touch any thoughts or
memory. Another second, and he returned to reality and recognized
me. His lips pressed firmly. I tried to explain my silence these
few days and my sudden appearance today. He didn't turn away from
me, but his eyes were gloomy, harsh, glaring. When I went into
more details, then the glance became more fixedly and mistrustfully,
Why didn't you come to me yesterday?
didn't you even send me a message?!"
The blow was
delivered too unexpectedly. I was not able to deflect it at once.
He continued, with the tone of an inquisitor, "Probably you
had very important reasons, hadn't you? That is why you made me
wait in vain for you, am I correct? I was waiting for you-- big
deal!!" He cried out the last words, already out of control.
His face turned pale and eyes glittered like crystal. He was breathing
quickly and with difficulty, swallowing the air. His slender fingers
convulsively squeezed the green blanket. Suddenly the tension
ran out, his head leaned back against the pillow and the blood
slowly started to rush to his marble-white lips, which still shook
with agitation. The glance of his sapphire-blue eyes froze. Quiet
fell and I understood that he had held his breath. He lay without
any motion and only his glance followed me. I bent down above
him and touched his temple with my lips, and for a moment felt
the tender aroma of his soft hair. His arms flew up and grabbed
me with unexpected strength. He clung to me with all his body,
with one passionate, rough movement and pressed my mouth against
his lips so strongly and greedy that my teeth touched his and
I tasted the flavor of blood. Nobody had ever kissed me so frenziedly,
so desperately, as this man, who, although worn out by his own
power and arrogance, easily reached the point of cruelty with
his passion. As if with some kind of weak fury we showered each
other with kisses and expressions of tenderness. His hold on me
became even stronger, as if he had decided to take revenge on
me for all the terrible minutes of his loneliness. I caressed
his hot, love-inflamed body with my lips and arms and he whispered
with dry, swollen lips-- More, more, give me more.
We were in
some sweet blissful hell. Yes, the Emperor recruited him, and
he has stood in those endless and nondescript gray-green lines
of well-built, strong-willed, efficient and faithful Imperial
officers, in their tailored uniforms and snug black belts with
shining metal buckles, but his strong, shapely legs, his hot body,
the embrace of his slender, yet strong and gentle, arms, his melodious
laughter and the shining glance of his deep blue eyes, and that
passionate groan of sweet agony-- all that was kept by him only
he know at that moment, when he surrendered to me for the first
time, that I was his fate, in all the total, awful and inevitable
meaning of that word? Probably not. But part of his soul was already
joined to mine forever. How could I protect him, if the Emperor
or Lord Vader ordered me...
I must find
some way to save him. There must be some way. I knew it must exist.
interfered with our lives. His aide informed us of the visit of
Admiral Piett with some his officers. He was waiting for us already.
* * *
like everybody already knew about our 'romance'. Here everyone
knows everything about the others, but all men keep a delicate
silence-- that is a peculiar "Imperial ethic". Sometimes
Admiral Piett looked at me, shook his head and smiles understandingly
with the corners of his fine lips. Despite his perpetual irony,
even cynicism, sometimes his face got a such prophetic expression
that I was afraid for his destiny. Once he unexpectedly addressed
me, "Lord Vader entrusted me to tell you that you may use
his personal shuttle any time you need it, and nobody will ask
any questions." He smiled slightly. "Nobody will dare
ask you." He reflected for a moment and after that continued,
"I don't know all about your relationship, but I just wanted
to warn you personally, that as far as I know, Jerjerrod the Moff
is a very clever, shrewd and secretive man with a dark and enigmatic
soul. He is capable of the most deep and strong feeling you can
imagine. It is the absolute truth. But there is another truth
about him-- that if this man should think that he was deceitfully
misled or if he is offended-- he will be capable of just about
anything to take revenge. And he can do it very well. So, be careful
of him. Just remember it. Now go to him. I know he is waiting
for you and you shouldn't be late. Probably these are the last
good and quiet days of our lives... It would be good to enjoy
the life that you have before you have to say goodbye to it forever.
Well, go now."
allowed to me to use his own shuttle to meet my lover?! Lord Vader,
whose name itself had become a synonym for fear and death?! Here's
something to think deeply about.
* * *
I was astonished by a very strange tension and a silent hustle
and bustle everywhere. There was the clatter of a great number
of feet, disjointed commands and some anxious, half-whispered
conversations. "The Emperor is arriving!" the officer
on duty informed me in a whisper.
Now I saw
an absolutely new and different Jerjerrod. He is very serene,
imperious, self-disciplined and strict, even stern with his subordinates.
He made no unnecessary words or gestures. Today we were to have
a last meeting for all high officers before the visit of His Imperial
Majesty. The problems were very serious and the situation is really
very somber. Yes, the cruel and terrible time had come to us.
The people are visible very well-- it is absolutely clear to see
who just takes an order and carries out it, and who acts slyly
and tries to dodge. Everyone can see it and they see that their
cautious slyness is visible and clear for everybody.
At this meeting
I met for the first time General Veers. He was a tall, smart,
powerful man with icy-cold gray eyes. In the Imperial army they
told legends about him. He was a proper man, cunning, polite,
exceptional reserved and self-confident. They said he could be
very cruel if the situation made him so. The staff officers didn't
like him-- he was too clever, brave and independent. But then
again he repaid them with the same hostility.
* * *
The day of
the arrival of His Imperial Majesty in the enormous docking bay
of the second Death Star.
The hall was
occupied by the Imperial troops. A large group of supreme officers
with Lord Vader and Moff Jerjerrod stood in front, frozen in anticipation
of the appearance of His Majesty. The time advanced. Everybody
At last from
the depths of the Imperial shuttle the Emperor appeared, with
his guards and crowd of dignitaries, which in reality are his
spies, jesters and hangers-on. Their high status didn't make it
difficult for them to be in constant quarrels, to conduct intrigues,
to tell nasty tales and to invent occasions of absolutely improbable
extortions, blackmail, and criminal forgeries about each other.
They were very vindictive and sinister gossips. They entertained
His Imperial Majesty with their perpetual squabbles and conspiracy,
hoping for a generous hand-out. The military really hated them.
I was standing a bit behind Lord Vader and Jerjerrod. The silence
was absolute. Unexpectedly Admiral Piett's voice pronounced very
quietly, through his teeth, but very clear: "So, the dear
sponges have arrived!" I can swear that everybody around
us heard these words. Somebody snorted. Jerjerrod shrugged his
shoulders. Lord Vader just slightly turned his black mask. They
seemed to absolutely share Piett's opinion. Meanwhile Lord Vader
and Moff Jerjerrod went forward to continue to perform the long
time-established and rehearsed ritual, although everybody perfectly
understand the complete hypocrisy of that formal act. There is
no respect from either side, only total contempt and even mutual
hatred. But outwardly all good manners and conventions must be
observed in the smallest details.
* * *
smooth voice and friendly words, the Emperor created a horrible
and depressing impression-- this was an old ruin that had outlived
his age, but was still alive and still on life with the persistence
of a maniac. They were really afraid of him. He was too merciless,
too logical and incredibly stubborn in his cruel madness. His
face was an old man's face, but his eyes shone with an awful predatory
fire. They said he liked to look at orgies very much. Everything
I was standing
now very close to them and looking at my beloved one's face. I
was afraid. Suddenly a very odd thought came to me: "What
terrifying feelings he must experience, when every day he is poised
on the verge of almost inescapable death! But what strongest self-control
and power of will he has!" I was sure that if the metal floor
were spiked with nails he would continue to go on with the same
proud face and cold dignity. Even if the pain were unprofitable
the Emperor with his "retinue" was making for the apartments
of His Imperial Majesty, with Lord Vader by his side. Accidentally,
I overheard an odd and very mysterious conversation between them.
They were talking about some young man-- a Jedi. Probably his
name was Skywalker. Later the admiral explained to me that they
were talking about Lord Vader's son. Who could think that Vader
would have a son like every man? And it seems that he has some
problems with him, like every father. Everybody from the close
company of the Dark Lord knew that father and son had a horrible
dispute in the Cloud City. They say there was a true battle between
them, but nobody knew why it happened. We knew very little about
Lord Vader's strange and mysterious life. It made us assume the
most horrible things you could imagine...
* * *
became worse every day. Many pilots and troopers who were in battle
with the rebels talked about it very gloomily and reluctantly.
All told things were very cruel and awful, but to our deepest
regret, they were truthful. Like a thin trickle of smoke-- the
indication of a terrible fire-- the dark thought crawled around
that we were doomed. Why?! There is some mistake that was done,
somewhere a wrong move made by somebody, and our history turned
to the abyss. Now only in the darkness, behind the steel walls
of the Death Star, squeezing each other in silent embraces, we
could still can hide our thoughts and forget about the horror
which approached us. All of us.
I saw my love
working extremely hard, becoming even more thin, gloomy and silent.
But there was nothing I can do for him. The Emperor was asking
* * *
Piett invited us for "dinner in a very small company."
Of course, it was a time when Lord Vader would be out for a long
time! From time to time the admiral organizes something like that,
but this time it is for a special reason. His long time girlfriend
has visited him, and as they say she is his secret wife. The fact
is that the Dark Lord is very jealous of relations which he is
not able to control every minute. That's why the admiral must
be exceptionally cautious. So, as one really in love, he decided
to entertain his beloved woman and thus to reward himself for
his everyday fear and dangers.
It was the
first time Jerjerrod was on "Executor". I saw him a
bit nervous and I can understand it very well. Executor was a
foreign territory for him. In the main docking bay only Admiral
Piett himself was there to meet us-- it is like a conspiracy--
and led us himself into the depths of the ship to his apartments.
In the big, round, windowless, and thoroughly isolated, room were
already gathered the company, who met us with cheerful noise.
There was the nearest friend of the admiral, Captain Needa. General
Veers, who was already known to me, was the man also very close
to the admiral and absolutely devoted to him. They say the incorruptible
loyalty of these men kept very dark and terrifying secrets, but
no casual, curious glance could reveal the depth of their truth.
Also there were three other officers, one in black and other two
in dark-green uniforms. Here, for the first time, I met the Lady
Piett, the most clever, beautiful, charming and aristocratic woman
and faithful friend of the admiral's troubled and dangerous life.
Now I am not surprised that the admiral gave his brave heart to
her. As she sat between the admiral and General Veers, she looked
even more elegant, ethereal and fragile compared to the mighty
Imperial general. Long dark-brown hair finely framed the irreproachable
oval of her face and her fine snow-white neck. Big blue eyes sparkled
from under long dark eyelashes. She was smiling, and in her small,
rose-petal ear, a light-blue diamond moved and twinkled like a
drop of dew on fine gold yarn. I cast a glance at Piett, and I
had never seen him so happy. It was said that nothing would keep
him from satisfying even the smallest whim of hers.
was really magnificent. The admiral, as a true Imperial, received
his guests with all his heart and with generosity from his soul.
Three young lower-ranking officers in black helmets, thin, elegant,
quick and silent, like shadows, served us. I noticed that one
of them looks like a female. They move swiftly and noiselessly.
Their faces are pale and impassive, but in their eyes is the frost
of unquenchable passion, like dark fire. They say Lord Vader has
a whole squad of them. They are exceptionally hardy, skillful
and passionate in the matters of love and always ready for war.
They are Lord Vader's "secret weapon", which he uses
when he wants to poison his "opponents" with love, if
it does not suit him to kill them at once. They are cruel, clever,
efficient and fanatically devoted to their terrible sovereign.
Today everything, the best and most noble, that makes the Galaxy
the best place in this Universe from one edge to another, played
out in that evening its destructive and seducing act. The light
from crystal lamps played with flickering dense gold in the convex
walls of heavy glasses with blood-red wine and on the white necks
of bottles, which lay in the cubes of lump ice in the big crystal
vase. Lemon lakes reflected with pearl color in the gold sauce,
where pale-blue fishes swam, decorated with light-green leaves.
The female trooper, a thin girl with big high breasts, brought
a tray of browned gammons on hills of snow-white rice, surrounded
with see-through slices of pale-pink meat. A pudding blazed with
blue flame in the rum. The girl moved very slowly and very solemnly.
In the shadow of her black helmet her big, dark brown eyes sparkled
like a predator from under long jet-black eyelashes.
She will not
be alone tonight. Captain Needa watched her through the rainbow
of liqueurs in front of him. But he was still in deep thoughts
about the past day. He drank very slowly and gracefully. I noticed
how his arm is amazingly beautiful-- smooth, white, with long,
drinks vodka from the big, rounded, misty-cold decanter. He drinks
one shot after another-- it looked like he was drinking water.
He can drink a lot, but he never was drunk-- only his steel eyes
were lightening oddly. Little by little the company came to life
and the conversation became communal and absolutely relaxed. No;
for Admiral Piett continued the conversation that had been cut
short before. He addressed General Veers.
Now it is impossible. He has made a lot of very stupid mistakes
and he should know that the bloody silly things are irreparable.
And now we, the military, must correct the consequences of these
nasty things with cautious and clever action. These consequences
are very bad for us. Now fear will be our policy for long years
in the future. And it will be the real horror. Every day we will
feel ourselves as at the beginning of new rebellion, and everything
that can reduce that fear will be justified and good and moral
in the eyes of our idiot-politicians and the frightened inhabitants
of all star systems in our galaxy. And you will see-- they will
start to glorify us, just the same way they are now anathematizing
us and using us to scare their children!" Piett smiled bitterly.
"Whatever you say, we must be patient and polite, if we must
work with these idiots in the future."
poured vodka from the decanter into his glass and drank it. "Well,
I will be patient and polite. But only until somebody gets polite
with me. I don't know about some abstract Imperials, but they
use our Maximilian as a fright-- that's a real fact."
will you do it any other way?" General Veers picked up a
square of dark bread on a gold fork.
very cruel? Yes! But let us establish order in the first place,
and after that they can talk all that they want. I don't care
about their opinion! When your house is on fire, you must put
out the fire, not make a discussion about the right way to do
it! As far as I know, some of the Rebel leaders do not so fanatically
Jerjerrod, if you are talking about Mon Mothma-- I tried to appease
that person with everything I was able to do for her and for her
family, but it proved to be an absolutely vain work. It is hopeless,
although I found her to be the only normal and noble human person
in that gang which they call very proudly, 'The Rebel Alliance'."
Lady Piett pursed her tender lips in disgust. "I made all
her nephews officers, one of them I saved from the military tribunal.
and to express their gratitude they took the Rebel side and now
every day they sling mud at us in their media and send me very
nasty anonymous letters. I am even worried about the moral health
of my young aide who reads them to me."
sighed and rubbed his forehead with his fingers. "So, Jerjerrod,
do not count on their tolerance."
you believe in a brighter future?"
in one thing now-- in the impending death of all of us. And it
will be so devastating, that the memory itself of it will wound
hearts of many generations of Imperials after us. Don't look so
pale, Jerjerrod. It's not so terrible, believe me, when we're
all together at once."
are right, Admiral. If we will do nothing for ourselves right
now-- it will be like this. I agree with you."
and dinner dragged on for a very long time. We left fair after
'midnight'. In the darkness our steps resounded under the high
vaulting of the empty enormous docking bay. I looked at Jerjerrod,
who walked near me silence. He is like a steel spring, pressed
to a peak. Admiral Piett made to him an absolutely clear offer,
even though he doesn't say some things directly. Our admiral knows
that the Grand Moff Jerjerrod is one of those who can understand
unexpressed words... Suddenly his fingers squeezed my wrist. "It
is not so terrible, when we are all together..."
What the new
day will bring us? We will see it, and very soon.
in next part...