A Useful Anachronism

[Milivikal k'Vik]

The Galaxy was a busier place than k'Vik remembered. There were more beings, more known systems, more ships, more trade goods. There were still political empires and clumps of people willing to subvert them for the promise of credits and goods. After her brief adventure with Korhal nearly a year prior, she had severed ties with him. She did not need him. She mused to herself on occasion: why did I not kill him? Her own answer was never very concrete. After turning over the newly created (and functional) duplicate of her previous saber to an Old Republic collector (who remarked how much of a resemblance she bore to it's original bearer), they were rewarded with a pile of credits. Why didn't she kill both of them? It would have made things... more complicated, she decided as she always did on revisits to the topic. It still felt like an opportunity lost, but that nagging grew more distant with time, yet it bothered her today.

Now she had a ship and a crew, both gained through her gift of the Force. It was easier when the owners were convinced to put them on the table. Thoughts at sabaac games were easy to glean, and greed was easier to push. In this case, a YV-330 and it's crew. Not content to leave an enemy at her back, she murdered the ship's former captain after pushing him into a rage.

Milivikal had smirked as she collected the ship's deed and title. “I think” she said, the smirk transforming into a malicious grin, “that I shall paint the ship pink.” Her words were laced with subtle cues, tones and commands. The pirate/smuggler pulled his blaster in rage, overturning the large gambling table to get at her. Mili dove to the side, the blaster bolt sailing wide. She rolled to her feet, and threw a vibrodagger through his throat.

With a little massaging, his crew turned out to be quite serviceable. Eight males of various species and three Twi-lek slaves were now at her bidding, and Milivikal devoured their collective knowledge with lust. They plied through the lanes of space, trading spice and disruptors to those of ill repute. With no Jedi to undermine, she might as well undermine the existing infrastructure. Siren's Kiss hummed through hyperspace with various illegal spices in the holds. They were somewhere near Thyferra. Risky, with great reward. Milivikal leaned on her intuition, and it had not steered her wrong. She sat crosslegged on her well appointed bed, reading one of the many great works of literature while listening to a Bith remix of the classic Verpine GrrzzKlznkink Orchestra. Her door was sealed and locked. She did not wish to be disturbed until the Siren arrived at it's destination, near Sullustan space.

The ship violently exited hyperspace and sent an engrossed k'Vik headfirst into her dresser.

[R. S. Esalis]

The Interdictor that had pulled Siren's Kiss from hyperspace hung in space like a great watchdog, but it was the Star Destroyer suspended beside it that commanded the situation around the two. It held the leash of the dog. And that dog had just plucked its' target from hyperspace as if it were nothing more than a pebble from the ground.

On the Bridge of the ISD Provost, Captain Enewikk stood with his hands clasped at the small of his back. He watched the YV-330 pop into normalspace - no doubt its' occupants more than a bit ruffled, and a very small smirk played across his craggy features. He turned to cast a glare down to one of the helmsmen in the pit.

"Take us forward to intercept, and ready the tractor beam."

"Yes sir."

Steel grey eyes that matched the uniform he wore were sent to the transparisteel windowpanes once more, and ever so slowly the smuggler's ship began to grow.

Enewikk grimaced momentarily, turning to regard the black-uniformed intelligence agent who stood behind him. Orem, was what he'd said his name was. No first name, just Orem. The Captain harrumphed. 'Orem' looked almost bored to tears; or at least it seemed that way. Who knew what Imperial spooks thought? As it was, the agent was busying himself with idly reading a datapad.

Enewikk cleared his throat, and Orem looked up over the tops of his eyes. He looked perturbed at being disturbed from his reading. "Yes Captain."

An open hand was gestured at the view before them.

"I can see that. My official duties do not start until you have the crew aboard and in detention cells. How you get them there does not involve me."

Frustrated, the Captain set his angular jaw. "You were sent to this post with information on the captain and her crew. Any insight on her known tactics would be much appreciated."

Orem dismissed him with a withering stare before returning to his datapad.

Enewikk was now thoroughly disgusted; Director Esalis' little agents were horrid, backstabbing, rude creatures, and he wished a thousand deaths upon both the agent assigned to him and the Director herself. Thankfully, one of the pit crew interrupted his thoughts.

"Sir, we're in range."

"Good. Activate the tractor beam, and bring them aboard."

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Well made dressers were sturdy objects, not to be trifled with. Milivikal was wedged awkwardly between the bed and the dresser. Her legs splayed messily above her and her neck and head were painfully pressed against the dresser and floor by the rest of her mass. She groaned, and wondered why she could hear hissing and pops. Milivikal slowly righted herself, careful to not exacerbate any possible existing injuries. She rubbed her head and straightened her neck when the door fell off of it's hinges and the world turned white from the expertly deployed flashbang. Mili grabbed at her face, the sudden loss of hearing and sight overwhelming.

“My eyes!” she yelled, and soon after felt armored hands pulling hers into binders. She kicked and flailed blindly as they carried her out of her ship. Her vision began to return on the difficult journey out of her ship. She thrashed more on principal. The deck and walls of the Star Destroyer gleamed through her hazed vision. The small detachment of troops surrounded her when she screamed. It was an unnatural, piercing scream. White helmets were flailed at while armored knees hit the deck from the blinding pain of her wail.

Milivikal smirked. She had been underestimated, as usual. Everyone in the hangar now suffered from massive ear trauma. Except for Milivikal, of course. She turned over the troopers in search for the binder controls, desperate to have them off of her wrists.

The hangar blast doors hissed open, and as she turned caught a stun blast full in the chest.

[R. S. Esalis]

Another frown creased Enewikk's face at the initial reports coming in from the hangar. The crew itself had been easy enough to quell, but it seemed their captain was proving a bit tougher. How fortuitous that the second stormtrooper squad arrived when it did. He would have preferred to not have had anyone stunned, but it seemed that the captain - he had to look at a datapad offered by one of his lieutenants - Milivikal k'Vik, was unwilling to cooperate so happily.

No matter, the outcome was still the same as if she'd gone willingly. Reading further, he noted that she'd been successfully placed in a cell removed from the rest on the detention deck.

He turned to Orem, giving the other a nod which sent the agent on a sickeningly casual gait off the bridge.

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Milivikal's head pounded like a bass drum stuffed with feathers. Each heartbeat thudded through her skull and throbbed with no echo, but a quick, even falloff.

Her mouth had been wrapped shut. No binders had been affixed to her feet, but there was a collar on her neck and binders on her hands. Tenatively, she touched it. It did nothing. Perhaps she could destroy it. She concentrated on pulling it apart with sonic vibrations. For a moment, it hummed as she found it's natural frequency and thus, it's weak points.

A moment later a tree-cracking jolt snaked through her body, and her convulsions pulled her off of the metal bed and rudely dropped her onto the metal floor. She lay still as pain twinkled on and off while her nervous system attempted to sort itself out.

[R. S. Esalis]

Orem was not a tall man, but the way he held himself made others feel small. Perhaps it was the quiet look of control in his eyes, or his deep voice. No one knew the real reason; perhaps it was a combination of those factors? It made no difference to him. He worked tirelessly for his government, which aggravated him to no end that he'd been assigned to such a dead-end post.

Esalis had wanted certain numbers of her people scattered throughout the fleet just in case word of Layla could be gleaned from the smuggling community, or even Layla herself was captured. It was a mundane job that he took no pride in, but he did his job regardless.

Stepping from the lift, he stopped at the security desk to gather a few of the more effective methods of persuasion should k'Vik decide not to comply. The lieutenant pointed down the long hallway, and Orem began the trek down the raised illuminated walkway. Flanked by two stormtroopers, he measured his steps evenly.

Stopping at the door to her cell, he reached out to depress the button which would allow him entrance. The door whisked up, and he stepped inside.

[Milivikal k'Vik]

She glared at him, enraged, but unable to do much more than that.

“That collar will activate if it vibrates too much. It will also activate if I vibrate too much. He pressed a button. Electrical agony bounced through her body like sugared children.

“It is my sincere hope that you do not cooperate.” he said, staring back into Mili's pale, crystal blue eyes. Oh how she wanted to kill him, to watch his eyeballs turn to ooze, his bones shatter and his overstated mass collapse into a shapeless heap.

He held most of the cards, though. She sat silent beyond her angry eyes. She did not yet know what he wanted, but could guess that she would not like it.

[R. S. Esalis]

Orem looked down at her, a deadpan, unimpressed stare that indicated nothing beyond the words he'd spoken. Unfortunately for her, he wanted dearly to take out his anger at his current post upon her.

He unclipped the stun baton from his belt and held it in a loose grip before gently clasping both hands behind his back.

"I'm going to ask you simple yes or no questions to begin with, and you're going to answer politely.

"Do you understand?"

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Milivikal nodded firmly, while visions of blood and pain rushed through her head. He did have her at a disadvantage, and he was well conditioned mentally. It would take her days to break him down, especially since she was gagged.

[R. S. Esalis]

Oh how he'd hoped she would've shaken her head! His hand tightened around the baton that was behind his back, and he briefly considered clubbing her for the sake of it. He spoke once more instead.

"The files I have on you say that your name is Milivikal k'Vik. I know you are she already, as enough holographic evidence was provided. However, what I do not know is how many others know of you.

"Tell me, are you well known within the smuggling world?"

[Milivikal k'Vik]

She hesitated. Mili had established a little reputation during her nine months, but wasn't Han Solo. She would not call herself "well known".

She tilted her head to the left and right, trying to give an impression of uncertainty.

[R. S. Esalis]

A malicious grin spread over the previously docile features of his face, and Orem whipped the baton out from behind his back to club her viciously on her shoulder. His thumb had pressed down on the activator midway through the swing, and the hum registered only a second before making contact with the woman.

His voice seemed like a snarl as he spoke.

"That is not an answer I like."

[Milivikal k'Vik]

She glared at him from her now sideways position. Her shoulder throbbed with pain and shock. Unable to decide, she chose no as a default and shook her head.

[R. S. Esalis]

"Are you familiar with anyone with your vaunted ring of smugglers?"

A nod, and he moved his arms once more behind his back.

Orem let silence reign for a few moments as he stared down at her.

"Sanis Prent. Do you know the name."

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Milivikal paused for a moment. The name sounded familiar. Yes, she had heard of him: royally pissing off the Imperials somehow.

She nodded.

[R. S. Esalis]

That malicious grin once more. With a snap of his fingers, the two stormtroopers who'd followed him in stepped forward. Their blasters holstered, they held her down, pinning her to the deck as Orem took a knee at her side. The end of his stun baton pressed into her midriff.

He stared long into her eyes, his own emotionless.

"I'm going to turn this on and leave it on until you become unconscious. After that, we will have a real conversation."

And without missing a beat he thumbed the actuator on.

[Milivikal k'Vik]

She closed her eyes. Not again. Her body spasmed violently. Mili's legs flailed around, seeming to kick for a moment, jerk, kick, repeat. She tried to let herself pass out, but every time, Orem would give her enough of a breather and stun her eyes back open. It seemed to take hours, but likely took closer to twenty minutes before her well-conditioned body gave in.

[R. S. Esalis]

He'd taken great pleasure in doing what he did, and even let a sadistic smile grace his features so that, before she slipped into her subconscious, she could see he was enjoying his task. Even after her eyes had shut for the last time he kept on. Only at a hesitant turn of the helmet from one of the troopers did he stop. And when he did, he straightened up. The baton was once again clipped to his belt, and he tugged at the hem of his tunic.

"Take her to room 5. I'll be there shortly."

The room that she would eventually wake up in was spartan, devoid of anything but a metal table and two chairs facing one another; one of which was bolted to the deck. The stormtroopers dragged her in by her arms, not particularly caring about being gentle stewards as they sat her into the chair that had so carefully been fitted with restraints. When she awoke, k'Vik would find that her wrists were bound tightly to the seat's armrests and her ankles bound to the legs. The gag had been removed, but in its' stead was a new attachment to her collar.

And in front of her sat Orem, his hands folded atop the table as he stared at her. He reintroduced her to the cognizant world with a single statement. "The moment your voice rises above a certain pitch, your collar will activate. Am I understood?"

[Milivikal k'Vik]

k'Vik scowled intensely.

"Yes" she hissed. Her midsection ached terribly. Every time she inhaled or exhaled the soreness let itself be known. The Imperial was effective at his job. She would happily have traded the stunner abuse for a good, old fashioned beating. Mili let her head remain listless to conserve her energy.

[R. S. Esalis]

There was a file below his folded hands, and without ceremony he opened it. A hardcopy was pulled free, turned so that it would be facing her, and slid it toward her end of the table. The photo showed that of a man, obviously yelling at something out of the camera's field of vision. It was a crisp image though, and unmistakable.

A second photo was produced from beneath the first, but this one showed a woman. The expression on her face was much more calm that the man's, but it was easy to see that when the photo had been taken, her attentions had been far elsewhere. A scar cut through her right eye and leaving it a stark white.

"Who are these two people."