TW//: Mature Language, Some Slight Violence, usage of the force and we meet some new people!

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ A m b e r ' s P o v ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The abrupt shock to my collar jolted me awake, eliciting a pained whine. Groaning, I sat up and made my way to the bathroom, a small sanctuary with a modest mirror and a standing shower Shedding my clothes, I immersed myself in the bath, grabbing a small towel to wipe away the remnants of a less-than-pleasant night—dirt, dried spit, and the lingering stain of blood. It was a surreal moment of self-reflection; my life had taken a turn, and I felt an unfamiliar vulnerability. Those two men had dismantled everything I had strived for on Tatooine.

As I attempted to find comfort in the water, I heard my main door swung open, shattering my solitude. Hope clashed with anxiety as I wondered if it was Cardo, but my instincts signaled a different presence—either Kylo or Lord Vader. The curtain parted by itself, revealing Vader's hooded figure and penetrating yellow eyes. "Smart for taking a bath," he noted, preceding an intense pain that mirrored the suffocation in that dreaded room.

His imposing figure kneeled beside the tub, his stern gaze fixed on me. He demanded compliance, another shock emphasizing the consequences of silence. Nodding vigorously, I vowed to speak, and he left without a word.

Exiting the bath, I discovered a wardrobe of all-black tactical attire—pants, a short-sleeve shirt, combat boots. Opting for a loose-fitting shirt to ease the pain from Kylo's brutal encounter, I prepared to leave. However, my collar had other plans, delivering a painful reminder that these disruptions always seemed to coincide with my moments of respite.

how does this thing around my neck even know what I'm doing?

Frustration coursed through me as the shocks from the collar, Seeking solace on the small couch, a sudden knock sent me jumping in fright—such interactions were no longer familiar. "Who is it?" I asked, my voice edged with unease. "It's me, Cardo. I'm with Kuruk," came the reassuring reply.

Opening the door cautiously, I faced Cardo and the unfamiliar Kuruk. Cardo removed his helmet, and Kuruk, upon seeing me, gasped. "Brother, can you take that off?" he inquired. Cardo, looking at me, affirmed, "Yes, she's different from the others." Kuruk then removed his helmet, revealing a somewhat youthful face that still exuded intimidation with his muscular build and black hair. "Wow handsome," I muttered, earning chuckles from both of them. "See, she's harmless."

"I apologize for the crude comments Cardo and our brothers made yesterday," Kuruk said with sincerity. I shrugged, "It's okay. I had my ass slapped on the way here, so it's whatever." Kuruk shook his head, expressing disapproval, "It's not okay. You are human, not a piece of meat." Cardo nodded, adding, "Exactly. That's why I had to put Tucker in his place yesterday." Kuruk scoffed at Tucker's audacity, "Of course, that kid had the nerve to do that. He's getting too confident because of his new title."

I sat there, quietly listening to their conversation, appreciating the rare opportunity for human interaction.

"Cardo, Kuruk, you need to get to Master Kylo's office now!" the command blared through the comlink. Both turned to me, and Cardo assured me, "We'll see you later, Amber. Remember what I said you have us so far, so don't worry." With a wave and his helmet back on, they left, leaving me in a contemplative silence.

Opening my door, no shocks followed, and I found myself amidst a bustling facility. Unsure of where to go or what to do, I wandered into the lunchroom filled with individuals in white fighting armor with helmets and black military uniforms. Feeling out of place, especially with my collar, a soft voice interrupted my confusion, "Hey, do you need help?" I turned to see a girl slightly taller than me.

"Yeah, I do," I admitted. She smiled, asking, "Well, who do you work for, Lord Vader or Kylo Ren?" Biting my lip, I replied, "I, um, I don't know yet." She raised a brow, eyes lingering on my collar. "Oh, okay. Well, whatever you do, follow me. Let's get you something to eat. I'm Daisy, by the way." I smiled in gratitude, "I'm Amber." Together, we walked towards the food area, navigating through the sea of people.

We didn't exchange many words; I followed Daisy's lead as she explained the intricacies of the food options. As we approached a table with four other individuals, my anxiety surged, and I hesitated. "Don't be scared; they're really sweet. Just my friends," Daisy reassured me we got to the table and I sat down instantly hearing

Introductions

"The name's Phil, sweetheart."

"I'm Dax."

"I'm Steph."

"And I'm Jasmine."

Smiling, I acknowledged each of them. However, their glances kept shifting to my collar. Dax couldn't resist asking, "So, newbie, what's with the necklace?" Daisy intervened, slapping him on the arm. "What the hell is wrong with you, Dax?" she hissed, but he defended himself, "I know we're all thinking it."

"Just because we're thinking it doesn't mean we fucking speak it," Steph chimed in. Feeling a pang of sickness "Oh um it's from my home planet I just got transferred into this ship last night"

Examining the cut on my cheek, Jasmine inquired, "I'm guessing you got hurt in the process?" In response, I simply nodded, diverting the conversation as I hastily shoveled the food into my mouth. The prospect of delving into the details felt like courting disaster; being out and about already carried an air of vulnerability. I couldn't shake the gnawing fear of potential consequences if I revealed too much, so I opted for the safety of reticence.

"No, listen, Daisy, it was me, trying to rig up the wires on the ship, when Mr. Control Freak over there," Dax said, gesturing emphatically towards Phil, "came out of nowhere."

"Yeah, because you were doing it all wrong. Next time, do it right, and I won't have to step in," Phil retorted with a dismissive eye roll, clearly unimpressed by Dax's attempt at self-defense.

"Next time, just let him get electrocuted," Steph chimed in, her voice laced with mischief as a smirk played on her lips, clearly enjoying the banter.

"Joke's on you—I fell off the ladder, so ha!" Dax countered with a mixture of pride and defiance in his voice, as if his unexpected tumble was somehow a point in his favor.

At Dax's revelation, laughter erupted from everyone at the table, including me. The absurdity of the situation, the playful bickering—it was all too much, and I couldn't help but join in the collective amusement.

"I told Jasmine he fell off; she didn't believe me! And now you just admitted it," Steph exclaimed between fits of laughter, pointing an accusing finger at Dax, who seemed to bask in the attention, no matter how embarrassing the admission.

There was Daisy, laughing so hard tears were forming in her eyes, barely able to catch her breath. "I literally can't believe this idiot thinks falling off a ladder counts as a win," she managed to say, her words interspersed with bouts of uncontrollable laughter.

The camaraderie around the table was noticeable, a bond forged through shared adventures and the kind of absurd mishaps that, when retold, only seemed to bring everyone closer. At that moment, despite the dangers and the chaos of our lives aboard the ship, it was these instances of levity and laughter that made everything seem just a bit brighter.

Phil chuckled, shaking his head, "He never thinks before he talks." His words sent us into another round of laughter, our camaraderie momentarily overshadowing everything else around us. But our bubble of joy burst as quickly as it had formed. The laughter and chatter around us faded into a sudden, eerie silence. Confused, I was about to ask what had caused the abrupt change in atmosphere when my question answered itself.

The reason for the shift was impossible to miss: Kylo Ren had just walked in, his imposing figure cutting through the room like a dark shadow. But it wasn't just his presence that commanded attention; it was the man accompanying him. This man was not his grandfather, yet he exuded a similar, if not more intense, aura of power and menace. The air seemed to grow colder, the very energy of the room shifting to one of tension and unease.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Our group's laughter died down as we, like everyone else, found ourselves caught in the sudden gravity of the moment. The contrast couldn't have been more stark—moments ago, we were engulfed in the warmth of friendship and humor, and now we sat, frozen, under the weight of Kylo Ren's unexpected appearance.

The newcomer's identity and purpose were a mystery, yet his association with Kylo Ren suggested intentions far from benign. a question raced through my mind: Why was he here?

Kylo Ren had his gaze locking onto mine as he strode toward our table. The undercurrent of threat in his voice sent a shiver down my spine, and I could see from the corner of my eye that I wasn't the only one affected. Dax was visibly panicking, his eyes wide with fear.

"Shit, Phil, what did we do?" Dax whispered urgently, his voice a mix of desperation and fear.

Phil looked just as pale, if not more. "We did nothing!" he whisper-shouted back, trying to keep his voice low to avoid attracting further attention, but the tremor in his tone betrayed his anxiety.

Daisy, on the other hand, seemed to possess a calmer demeanor amidst the rising panic. She shook her head, a determined look on her face. "I know damn well it wasn't us. None of us were on his ship yesterday or earlier today. I was with Davis, and Jasmine and Steph can vouch for that," she stated firmly, her voice laced with conviction. Her words were meant to reassure, to stave off the immediate panic, but they did little to ease the tension that had settled over us.

I felt a firm hand on my shoulder. A wave of nausea washed over me as I desperately wished for an escape from the awkward attention. "Ah, Amber," a voice interrupted the discomfort, revealing the source of the intrusive touch. It was Kylo, acknowledging my presence with an air of authority. "I see you made your way into the lunchroom with some of my crew who's now going to get back to work."

His words hung in the air, a subtle command emphasizing the expectation of returning to duties. The lunchroom's atmosphere shifted, and I couldn't shake the feeling that every eye in the room was now scrutinizing my every move. I longed for a moment of reprieve, silently yearning to break free from the discomfort that had settled upon me.

Dax's attempt to voice a protest was abruptly halted by Kylo, who raised a commanding hand, silencing him. In an instant, Dax was violently thrown backward, his food splattering across him as a consequence. Kylo, unfazed, maintained a grip on my shoulder, his fingers pressing with an almost painful force.

"Get cleaned up, Pierce," Kylo ordered with an authoritative tone, his attention shifting to the rest of the group. "All of you, meet me on Dock 27. Oh, Amber, Lord Vader would like to talk to you in his office."

The table's occupants dispersed with hasty farewells, leaving me sitting in the aftermath of the chaotic encounter. As I watched them exit, I couldn't shake the discomfort lingering from Kylo's firm touch and the unexpected turn of events. The impending meeting with Lord Vader only added an extra layer of tension to an already unsettling situation.

Rising quickly from my seat, I was engulfed in confusion about where to go next. Of course, Kylo was aware of my uncertainty, which only added to my internal frustration. What a prick, I thought to myself, hardly able to contain my irritation.

Suddenly, a sharp shock coursed through me, compelling a gasp to escape my lips. The unexpected sensation drew the attention of everyone around, and I could feel their puzzled looks fixated on me. The loud gasp I had let out echoed awkwardly in the hallway, making me acutely aware of how many eyes were on me at that moment.

Feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment, I wished the ship's ground would swallow me whole. The embarrassment of reacting so publicly and visibly was overwhelming. "I can't believe I did that," I muttered under my breath, chastising myself for the involuntary reaction. The situation was quickly spiraling into one of those moments I knew I would replay in my mind for days to come, wishing I could somehow rewrite the script.

As I was rounding the corner, my world abruptly collided with a solid mass. It was more than a mere physical collision; it felt as if time itself had stumbled. I didn't fall but found myself running straight into a person. The shock of the impact made me freeze, my heart pounding in my chest. When I lifted my gaze, it was him—the same man who had slapped my ass.

"Well, well, what do we have here? You clean up nicely," he remarked, a smug grin spreading across his face. His words slithered around me like a cold draft, and I found myself wrapped in an unwelcome chill. I wanted to say something, anything that would wipe that smirk off his face, but words failed me. So, I opted for action instead, attempting to step around him to continue on my way. But he was quick, his hand shooting out to the wall of the ship, effectively barricading my path.

"What, we can't talk?" he taunted, the smirk still playing on his lips.

This time, I found my voice, a semblance of defiance sparking within me. "No, we can't. I need to find Lord Vader's office now, if you would kindly move," I retorted, my words laced with a firmness I didn't feel moments before. There was a fleeting sense of pride in that small victory, in having articulated my need to escape his presence.

But then, the air shifted, growing tense in a way that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I felt an arm encircle the back of my arm tightly, not in a hurtful manner, but with an unyielding strength that commanded attention. I turned my head slightly, catching a glimpse of the man's face. The smirk had vanished, replaced by a sudden drop in his demeanor, a silent acknowledgment of the power the new arrival wielded. Without another word, he withdrew his hand from the ship's wall and left his departure swift.

I didn't need to turn around to know who was behind me. The air seemed to bend around him, which could only belong to one person—Kylo. His presence was overwhelming, suffusing the space around us with an almost tangible intensity. I hadn't seen him yet, but I could feel his eyes on me, assessing, perhaps calculating. The grip on my arm wasn't painful, but it was firm, a clear indication that I wasn't going anywhere until he decided otherwise.

"You don't follow orders well, do you?" His voice cut through the tension, his words edged with a grittiness that caused an involuntary shiver down my spine. As he spoke, I could almost feel the grind of his teeth, an unmistakable manifestation of his frustration—or perhaps disappointment. Instinctively, I recoiled, the space between us charged with an energy that seemed to pulsate with unsaid things, with commands I'd failed to adhere to and expectations I hadn't met.

I wanted to explain myself, to tell him that his perception of my actions was a misunderstanding, that my defiance was not a choice but a reaction to circumstances beyond my control. But the truth lodged itself in my throat, a silent acknowledgment of his authority and my position. Experience had taught me that words, in moments like these, often fell on deaf ears. His stance, the set of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes—all of it signaled a man not used to being questioned or defied.

"Just let's go. Maybe you won't get hurt too bad," he continued his voice a mix of warning and promise that twisted my stomach into knots. The way he articulated the threat, veiled yet unmistakable, left little room for misinterpretation. It was a reminder of the precariousness of my situation, of the fragile thread upon which my safety—or the illusion of it—hung.

Hearing those words, a wave of nausea swept over me, mingling with a sense of despair so acute it was almost physical. Why did he have to frame it like that? I was acutely aware of what I was in this grand scheme, a pawn in a game with stakes far beyond my understanding. Yet, acknowledging that reality did nothing to quell the rebellion stirring within me. I hated it—I hated the role I'd been forced into, the loss of agency over my own life, and the way my existence seemed to be defined by the whims of those more powerful.

At that moment, a longing for my old life washed over me, so intense it was almost a physical ache. I yearned for the mundane, for the freedom to make choices, however inconsequential they might seem to others. The desire to reclaim my life, to step out of the shadow of others' decisions and assert my own will, was overwhelming. Yet, as I stood there, caught in the grasp of a man who represented everything I wanted to escape, that desire felt as distant as a star in the night sky—visible, yet untouchable.

We arrived at his office, the journey there a silent testament to the gravity of my situation. Kylo's grip was a constant, unyielding presence that guided me through the corridors, his silence as oppressive as a verbal reprimand. When we reached our destination, he released me—a gesture that felt less like liberation and more like abandonment at the threshold of judgment.

As I entered Lord Vader's office, the atmosphere was thick with tension, The air was heavy, with an anticipation of what was to come. Vader was there, a towering figure of menace, and even without any discernible expression, I could sense the storm brewing within him. I gulped, my throat tight, as I braced myself for the confrontation.

"I see you took your sweet time getting here," Lord Vader's voice boomed, a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the very floor. His tone was laced with an icy calm that belied the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

I shook my head, in a desperate attempt to convey my innocence. "No, sir, I was confused. I didn't know where your office—" My explanation was cut short, the words sliced through by an unexpected jolt of pain. A strong shock coursed through my body, unrelenting, its intensity increasing until my knees buckled beneath me, and I crumbled to the floor. The pain was overwhelming, a consuming force that rendered me helpless, my body wracked with spasms that echoed the turmoil I felt inside.

At that moment, reduced to a heap on the floor, every muscle in my body seized by an uncontrollable force, I was acutely aware of my vulnerability. The shock wasn't just a punishment; it was a statement, a stark reminder of the power imbalance that defined my existence in this place. My body felt so weak, drained of strength by the electric assault, and in that weakness, a sense of despair began to take root, shadowing the faint glimmers of hope I had harbored of finding a way out.

As he began to rise, a low, ominous chuckle reverberated through the room. "You think this is pain?" he taunted, his voice dripping with malevolence. I remained silent, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. Suddenly, a searing pain exploded across my cheek as his hand made contact with my face. The impact was so intense that it reignited the cut Kylo had inflicted earlier. I winced, the agony unmistakable.

Amidst the pain, I couldn't help but notice the sinister satisfaction in his yellow, glowing eyes. It was as if he relished every moment of my suffering. "Leave me be," he commanded, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "Go and seek Kylo, ask him to include you in his crew for labor."

Struggling to my feet, I quickly made my exit, clutching my throbbing cheek. The door swung open with a force matching the violence of the encounter.

Fortuitously, I crossed paths with Jasmine, her eyes widening at the sight of me. "Girl, how do you keep hurting yourself?" she inquired, concern etched across her face. Nonchalantly, I shrugged, offering a casual explanation. "I'm just clumsy."

Her nod indicated a subtle skepticism, evident in the way her eyes probed mine. Unwilling to disclose the real reason behind my injuries, I grappled with the unspoken truth, my heart was racing with a mix of apprehension and a desperate need for answers. "I'm looking for Kylo; do you know where he went?" I asked, my voice barely hiding the urgency I felt. She gave me a knowing look, her fingers deftly tapping on her commlink as if she were consulting an invisible directory. "He should be by dock 62. If not, check his office," she replied, her tone suggesting this was a common query.

I nodded, acknowledging her help, and turned to leave, but a sudden realization stopped me in my tracks. "Can you help me get to dock 62?" I asked, feeling slightly embarrassed that I needed to ask.

She glanced at her partner, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Hey, Luis, I'm gonna help her. Don't do anything stupid," she warned, but her tone was playful. Luis, with a smirk that seemed permanently etched on his face, retorted, "That's all I ever do, jas." She shook her head in a mix of frustration and affection, flipping him off in a gesture that seemed all too familiar between them, before turning her attention back to me. "Come on, girly. Let's get you to Kylo," she said, and there was an unmistakable hint of camaraderie in her voice.

As we walked through the labyrinthine corridors of the ship, silence enveloped us. It wasn't the uncomfortable silence one might expect, but rather a contemplative one. I was too absorbed in my thoughts, my gaze wandering over the cold metal walls that now defined my world. The reality of my situation was suffocating - trapped in an endless expanse of steel, floating in the vastness of space. I couldn't help but reflect on the irony of my predicament. Here I was, aboard a starship that was a marvel of technology and human achievement, yet I felt more confined than I ever had on any planet's surface.

The ship was alive with the hum of machinery and the distant echoes of orders being barked, a constant reminder of the military precision that governed our lives. But even amidst the strict order, there was a certain chaos in the air, a tension that seemed to permeate every deck and compartment. It was a ship of war, of purpose, and yet, to me, it was also a prison. My interactions with Kylo Ren and Lord Vader had left me feeling like little more than a pawn in their grand schemes, a 'punching bag' for their frustrations and a test subject for their experiments in power. The weight of their expectations and the burden of my survival were a constant shadow, darkening the already dim corridors of the ship.

As we continued our silent journey toward dock 62, I couldn't shake the feeling of insignificance. Here, amid the stars, I was reminded of how small my troubles seemed. And yet, they were as suffocating as the vacuum of space itself.