The Legio Twins Saga: New Day Dawning/Chapter 5

Stephanie

I sat there for awhile after the Stormtrooper and the man with the tray had left, not daring to touch the food that had been brought for me. I closed my eyes, trying to process what had just occured... trying to forget the way the man had leered at me with that sickening smirk.

Not as sickening as what's probably in store for me, I thought. Only now, looking back, can I truly understand just how naive I must have been. Of course I knew that I was going to be interrogated, even considering my bizarre situation I had been able to figure that much out. At the time, I thought that few things could come close to that horrible feeling of being alone in that cold, tiny cell, my imagination running wild with guesses as to what that interregation droid might do. But looking back now, with the horrific, unwanted memories of my torture engrained in my brain, I can't help but be amazed at how calm I had been beforehand, not knowing what lay in store. It's almost laughable, really.

But at the time, the word "calm" did not exactly seem to apply to me, considering the sate of growing confusion, fear, and anxiety I was in. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I reached- with arms that felt as heavy as lead- out to pick up the tray that had been left for me. Back in my own world, I had eaten dinner only two hours before, but here on the Death Star that seemed like an eternity ago, and I was suddenly aware that I was ravenously hungry. I guess it was also my frayed neves; food was the only comfort I had at the time, and I thought eating might help to calm me down.

Warily, I inspected to meager rations: a small container of water, and two gray, perfectly square slices of baked something that might have been hardtack or stale dog biscuts. I settled the tray on my lap and took an experimental bite of one of the biscuts. My first thought was gratitude that I had not broken my teeth on the rock-hard prison food, but I chewed it slowly, cautiously, trying to taste beyond the overwhelming blandness for something more bitter, maybe some kind of drug. After all, this was Darth Vader and Grand Moff Tarkin I was dealing with here, and despite my current state of mind, I still had enough sense to not put it past those men to have ordered something extra put into Princess Leia's rations. I had no idea exactly what I was tasting for, but I theorized that both the food and water could have been spiked with some sort of truth serum, or a narcotic to weaken me and make me less likely to resist torture. After tasting nothing discernable, I forced myself to swallow and took a sip of the water. It also tasted fine.

Dubiously reasured, I continued eating, knowing that there was little else I could do. Once the biscut-things were gone, all that remained was for me to sit and wait to be interrogated by a Sith Lord. I tried to shrug it off as if it were no big deal. You'll get through this, I told myself, Sure, it'll probably be the most horrific and painful experience of your enitire life, but hey, the REAL Leia survived it, right? But as soon as I would try to relax my stomach would clench at the fear of my unknown fate and I would be a wreck all over again.

Over the long stretch of inumerable hours, fresh waves of panic broke over me at random times. Despite this, however, I had plenty of time alone to think. I thought a lot about Mark, though I tried not to worry myself with wondering how I- or we, rather- had ended up here. That issue was irrelevant. What I did wander was where he was, and if he was safe. It didn't take me long to theorize that if I had ended up as a sort of "replacement" for Leia on the Death Star, then it wasn't such a stretch to believe that he had ended up as Luke Skywalker on Tatooine. I lay there for hours on my low metal cot, worrying about my brother and praying that if all went acording to the plot, he would rescue me before it was too late. But for the most part, I spent my time alone preparing myself mentally for impending torture.

It is foolish to think that I actually believed that I could prepare myself for torture. Being mentally prepared to face the kind of torture I had to is impossible to do, as I now know. I had no was of knowing at the time what I was about to experience, nor how scarring it would be. Even today I have trouble talking about it. All I knew then was that no matter what Darth Vader did to me, no matter what pain was inflicted upon me, I had to stick to three goals: stay alive, stay sane, and protect the Rebellion at all costs.

Oh, if only it had seemed so simple when the door finally opened again. I think my heart must have literally stopped when I saw the Darth Vader enter my cell, all my courage and steely determination flying out the window as I came face-to-face with the inhuman gaze of the galaxy's most infamous villain. He exhaled; that atificial breathing, which had left me with chills while watching the last few scenes of Revenge of the Sith, now seemed to leech the warmth out of the air enitirely.

"And now, your Highness, we will dicuss the location of your hidden Rebel base," he said. As he spoke, the interrogation droid came into view, a hovering black orb equipped with a single long, menacing needle. I gulped nervously just as the door slammed shut again.

But the scene did not end there.

As the sinister little droid hovered closer, I panicked and pushed myself far into the corner away from it. One of the troopers that had followed Vader into the room seized me roughly by the arm. Emboldended, I fought him off fairly easily, twisting his arm away and breaking his grip with a strategic wrist hit; he seemed stunned by my swift moves. But before I could get away from him properly, the droid zoomed forward in a lightning-fast move and speared my right arm with the needle.

Then several things seemed to happen at once: I gasped, stumbling back onto the bench as a flash of burning cold seared down my arm and shot thorugh my veins. At the same time--though I wouldn't fully realize it until much later--I instincively lashed out at the droid. I swore that I had missed it by inches, though somehow the dread never seemed to register in my mind; in fact, I was never really sure whether I had hit it or not. All I knew was that something beyond myself (but not entirely beyond my control) had caused my hand to move, propelled by a sudden wave of energy that seemed to come from nowhere but my own awareness, extending from my heart and mind, down through my arm, and out past my fingertips. But all of this happened so fast that I was barely conscious of it; in the next instant, I felt hands pushing me down, struggling to fight them off as I heard the strangely distant sound of a metallic clatter, followed by an angry buzz. I had a moment of wonder and triumph before I noticed Darth Vader's outstretched hand, calling the droid back to him with the Force. Had he done that himself, perhaps to taunt me? Or perhaps it was really nothing at all, and the Dark Lord hadn't noticed a thing.

It was at this point that I stopped fighting. The droid had barely pierced my sleeve with the needle, but the little poison in my system was already taking its toll on my physical and mental strength. My muscles tensed as the men held me down, then nearly spasmed as the needle was forced slowly, cruely, back into my arm again. I sucked in my breath; I was fully aware of the thin metal spear in my flesh, felt it send liquid fire through my veins, felt the wave of painful, icy cold slowly engulf my body as the drug concoction burned me from the inside out.

"Now, where are the Rebels that you sent those plans to?"

Vader's words boomed in my head, seeming to be apmlified in my mind, painfully loud and more frightful than ever. I was dimly aware of the droid hovering over me as he spoke, but I could not contain my shriek of terror as long, thin arms descended on my head, arms, and throat, ready to do God knows what to me. But I couldn't move away from them. I was seemingly paralyzed, trapped within the confines of my panicked and swimming mind. My panic seemed to spiral out of control then, though I didn't know and didn't want to know the exact cause.

"N-no... NO!" Was all I managed to get out. Without any warning, a jolt of electricity bored into my skull, then snapped to connect to the other points of shocking energy coming from the droid's arms. I screamed in agony, seeing sparks as the electricity sizzled across my icy flesh.

The attack finally ceased, but my vision was hazy as I saw Vader approach me to speak again. "This is not a game, princess," he said, "Where is your Rebel base?"

"I won't tell," I managed to whisper, "I'd rather die than betray them." A new wave of fear washed over me then, and I began to realize how true my own words might be. Regardless of my true identity, I did not want to betray the Rebel Alliance.

But was I willing to die for them?

With a sudden clarity, I knew that there was at least one person in the world that I would be willing to die for. Ironically, though, what I needed to do most for him at the time was live.

I'm so sorry, Mark, I thought, I hope your'e safe.

Vader spoke again, but I put all of my willpower into blocking out his words, my cosciousness focused solely on remaining silent. And then I was once more engulfed in ice and flames.

It would be a long time before the pain would end.