Chapter 6: TechnoUnion Terror

"In war there is no such thing as neutrality."

The guard dragged Ahsoka across the final stretch to the tower's base. The obsidian structure loomed, a monolith that drank the light of Kessel's bruised sky. It wasn't just built; it was grown, panels of seamless black metal flowing into one another with no visible seams or rivets. It hummed, a low, resonant thrum Ahsoka felt in her bones more than heard with her ears. This had to be the source of the planet's impenetrable shield, and it felt as alive as it was mechanical.

They entered through a circular blast door that irised open with a hiss of depressurizing air. The transition was jarring. The chaos of the mines—the dust, the noise, the desperation—vanished, replaced by a sterile, silent environment. The air inside was cool, filtered, and carried the sharp, clean scent of ozone and electronics. The floor was a polished black so perfect it reflected the stark white light strips recessed into the ceiling, making the corridor feel like a void.

Ahead, a tall guard stood beside a shimmering energy field, a security archway that pulsed with a faint blue light. The Pyke escort grunted, pushing Ahsoka forward. "Through the scanner."

Panic flared in her chest. The holocom. Her one advantage. One hand was clamped to the top of her torn dress, holding it over her breasts. The other was held in the guard's iron grip. There was no way to retrieve it without being discovered. Her mind raced. She knew she simply couldnt get caught and be punished like the others!

As they drew closer, Ahsoka focused, letting the Force flow through her. It was a subtle, internal act, a silent whisper. The small, hard shape of the holocom, nestled securely between her cheeks, began to feel... lighter. With a minuscule tug, she caused it to lift from its hiding place. It rose silently, unseen, floating up behind her. She guided it over the darkened top of the scanner's frame just as she stepped through the archway.

The scanner emitted a soft chime, its light turning green. Clear. The Pyke guard yanked her forward. Once they were past, Ahsoka reached back with the Force. The holocom dislodged from its hiding spot and dropped silently back into her waiting dress. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, slowling the panic in her beating heart.

At the end of the corridor, a man waited. He wasn't a Pyke. He was human, with a neat, trimmed beard and dressed in a crisp, gray uniform, though it lacked any rank insignia. His smile was polite, his eyes a cool, disarming blue.

"Ah, our new arrival," he said, his voice smooth and professional. "Thank you, guard. Your service is concluded. I will take her from here."

The Pyke hesitated, his grip on Ahsoka's arm tightening. "Uhh... My orders were to deliver her to processing."

The human's smile didn't change, but his eyes hardened, turning to chips of ice. "Your orders have changed. This tower operates under the direct authority and neautrality of the Techno Union. Are you questioning the authority of the Techno Union, guard?"

The Pyke's posture stiffened. "No, sir."

"Then be on your way. And... be mindful of your patrol route tonight. Laxity is noted. And punished."

The Pyke practically fled, his footsteps echoing down the corridor until he was gone. The man turned his attention back to Ahsoka, his expression softening back into that unnerving, gentle warmth.

"I apologize for his crudeness," he said, his gaze flickering to her hand holding up her dress. "Please, come this way. You must be uncomfortable. We will rectify that shortly. My name is Valen. I am the vocational coordinator for new assets."

He led her deeper into the tower. The corridors were a maze of pristine black and white. They passed vast, cavernous bays where droid arms, each the size of a gunship, moved with silent, hypnotic grace, assembling components Ahsoka didn't recognize. The air thrummed with contained power.

"You are here because the Pykes believe you possess a valuable skill set," Valen explained, his tone like that of a kindly professor. "Here, in the Tower, we do not believe in breaking our assets. We believe in refining them. You will learn, you will improve, and you will contribute to 'the work.' It is a noble purpose."

He gestured down a branching corridor. "This is the primary data hub. You will spend much of your time here." As they walked, Ahsoka saw other tech slaves, humans and aliens, hunched over glowing terminals. They wore simple gray jumpsuits and moved with a quiet, focused efficiency. They all wore collars.

Then she saw the most unnereving Kneeling at a low-set mainframe console in an alcove off the busy hallway was a young Twi'lek girl, her skin a vibrant shade of pink. She was entirely naked. Her body was slim, her face and lekku not particuarly fetching, but she had beauty of youth, perhaps a year or two older than Ahsoka herself. As she worked on her hands and knees, her backside faced the corridor, a position which left her most intimate areas completely exposed. Ahsoka tried not to stare, but in the organized sea of shades of grey and black the vividly bright pink tei'lek's anus and noticeably engorged labia were hard to ignore. Moreover, they were positioned directly at the flow of corridor traffic. Yet the girl seemed utterly oblivious, her focus entirely on the glowing data streams before her.

Ahsoka's steps faltered. She couldn't tear her eyes away.

Valen noticed her reaction and chuckled, a soft, pleasant sound. "Ah, Eola. A testament to our methods. She tried to escape last year. Almost made it, too. Part of her discipline and rehabilitation is that she will never wear clothes for as long as she lives in the Tower, which will be forever. Its an efficent detterent, everyone knows a naked slave won't make it twenty feet in Kessel without being 'secured'." He paused and looked Ahsoka up and down, a meaningful pause in his gaze as it passed over her torn dress. "So it would be with anyone who attempts to escape." He sighed, a sound of theatrical regret. "But since her rehabilitation, she's been one of our best workers. So very diligent and always eager to help 'the work.' She is also an office messenger for our most confidential memos. As you know, the Techno Union maintains strict neautrality in the war of the republic. Which means the toghtest data security protocols."

He approached the alcove. "Eola, dear," he said, his voice sickeningly soft and sweet.

The girl didn't turn, but her body tensed slightly. "Sir?"

Valen pulled a small metal clip from his pocket. Dangling from one end was a tiny data chip. "A message for Sub-Level Gamma." He leaned down, and Ahsoka's breath caught in her throat. With a practiced, casual motion, Valen clipped the memo chip to the plump, glistening back lip of the Twi'lek's labia. Eola didn't flinch. She barely seemed to register the touch.

"Be a dear and please deliver this by 9 O'clock to Foreman Grak," Valen said.

"Yes, sir." Eola pushed herself to her feet in a single, fluid motion. As she turned to face them, Ahsoka gasped. The girl's small, pink breasts, no larger than her own, were adorned with more memo chips. Three were clipped to her right nipple, pulling it taut, and one to her left. A fifth chip was clipped to the delicate hood that did little to hide an engorged clit. Little clip marks indented the edge of the girl's impressively full lips. Ahsoka wondered how many messages she ran a day. She stood at attention, not smiling, but focused and attentive, her body a living bulletin board.

Valen smiled at her, the same sweet, considerate smile he'd given Ahsoka. "Thank you, Eola."

Eola gave a curt nod and started off down the hall at a practiced pace, heading for a staircase. The little chips bounced and jingled with her every step, a horrifyingly casual sight.

Ahsoka felt a wave of nausea. "What... what was that?" she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

"Efficiency," Valen said, his pride evident. "You see? We can turn even the most belligerent into our best performers. The body is simply a tool. Once one accepts that, true productivity can be achieved."

Ahsoka stared after the girl, her mind reeling. "Why isn't she wearing a collar?" she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it.

Valen grinned, flashing a beautiful set of teeth, like he was waiting for the question. "Oh, she is! I'll show it to you next time we see her."

Ahsoka's face went white. She wasn't sure she wanted to know anymore.

Valen continued the tour, pointing out different workstations, explaining the flow of data. "The shield that Republic ships are having so much trouble with," he said conversationally, "is a masterpiece. It's not just a barrier. It's a predictive adaptive matrix. It analyzes incoming fire patterns and energy signatures and micro-adjusts its frequency and harmonics in real-time to achieve maximum dissipation. Their turbolasers are essentially being neutralized before they even fully impact. If the Republic ever discovered the Techno Union designed the shield, we would have a much more difficult time selling them those same turbolasers." He smirked. "It's quite beautiful, isn't it? The work of true genius."

Ahsoka filed the information away, her mind working despite her revulsion. Predictive adaptive matrix. Frequency harmonics. This was what Anakin needed.

He led her to a smallest empty terminal adjacent to other tech slaves hard at work. "This will be your station. You will begin with basic diagnostics and data flow management. Prove your competence, and you may work your way higher in the tower.

Valen continued the tour, his voice a smooth, disquieting counterpoint to the hum of the tower. He led her past a vast, circular chamber. In the center, suspended in a stasis field, was the pulsating, crystalline heart of a power generator. It rotated slowly, emitting waves of visible energy that Ahsoka could feel as a pressure against her skin. Around the chamber, technicians in sterile white suits monitored readouts, their faces illuminated by the glow.

"The Techno Union spares no expense for 'the work,'" Valen said, gesturing to the crystal. "The Kyber-Matrix Synthesizer. It modulates the planetary shield. It draws power directly from the planet's core, refines it, and projects it. The fleet currently besieging us is trying to breach a star with a slingshot."

They moved on, passing another open work area. A human male, older and gaunt, was strapped into a high-backed chair. His head was encased in a gleaming metallic helmet, wires snaking from it to a console. A droid with delicate manipulator arms was adjusting a node on the device.

"Data extraction," Valen explained, his tone as casual as if discussing the weather. "This asset has knowledge of a rival guild's hyperlanes. The Cognitive Recalibration Unit allows us to access his memories directly. It's far more efficient than interrogation, and the asset remains functional for menial tasks afterward. He'll be sorting data chips by hand for the next year. A fitting use for his newfound talents."

Ahsoka stared, horrified, as the man in the chair trembled, a low moan escaping the helmet. She could feel his pain, a faint, desperate cry in the Force, before it was snuffed out by the cold, oppressive presence of the tower.

"Come," Valen said, turning away. "We must get you situated."

He led her to a small side room. Racks on one wall held stacks of identical, gray slave jumpsuits. Ahsoka felt a surge of relief. An end to the constant, humiliating exposure. An end to holding her dress up like some frightened child.

Valen followed her gaze and teased softly. "Ah, yes. Your uniform. You will earn one... when you have completed your training." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "For now, your current... attire... will serve a purpose. It shows everyone that you are new. That you havent yet learned to fit in. That you may need regular... assistance... or correction." He let the words hang in the air, a promise and a threat.

"But first," he added, his voice brightening, "a gentleman should fix a lady's dress." Before Ahsoka could react, his hands were on her. His touch was soft, fluid, and deeply unsettling on her skin. He found the two broken ends of the halter strap, his fingers brushing against the nape of her neck. She flinched at the contact.

"Hold still," he murmured, his breath warm on her montrals. He pulled the entire dress out and up a few inches, his knuckles grazing her breasts. Just when she thought it was as high as it could go, he raised the front up several inches more, giving him room to tie it around her neck. The sudden breeze brtweem her thighs made her gasp. He deftly tied the two ends together behind her neck, securing the top once more. He stepped back, admiring his handiwork.

The dress was now secure. The back thankfully covered the curve of her buttocks as she stood perfectly still. The front hem, however, was now hovering dangerously high above the junction of her thighs. Valen seemed pleased.

"There," he said, smiling. "Now you may use your hands for the work. And dont worry, you'll find the Tower provides uniforms, food, showers, and a deep sense of satisfaction in doing 'the work'... once you pass your training." He turned to leave. "Shall we?"

As they walked back into the corridor, Ahsoka's mind was a whirlwind of fear and disgust. The blast door to the work area hissed open ahead of them. Ahsokas stride alone pushed her dress up further in the front. She could pull it down in the back, but the rough material did not stretch in the front. And anyone walking by could see glimpses of her bright orange mound as she walked, contrasted against the dark brown hem. Valen noticed but didn't laugh. He simply tilted his head, a thoughtful, almost curious expression on his face. "Or," he said, his voice dangerously soft, "if you do not do 'the work' for any reason... my, my. You remind me so much of sweet Eola... or at least the way she looked before..."

He trailed off, the casual open cruelty of the statement struck her like a physical blow. He didn't wait for a reply, simply gestured for her to follow. They entered a large work bay filled with rows of glowing terminals. Several other tech slaves looked up as they entered. Ahsoka had walked through here earlier.

"This is your new home," Valen announced to the room at large. "This is Liana. She is new. Assist her." He gave Ahsoka one last, unnerving smile, a hand on her shoulder and then turned and left, his footsteps echoing away.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, a stocky human man with a shock of messy brown hair grinned and waved her over. "Don't mind Valen. He gets his kicks spooking the new ones. I'm Jax. Welcome to the salt mines of the soul."

Ahsoka cautiously approached his terminal. "Liana," she said, her voice tight.

"Yeah, I figured," Jax said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He glanced down at her ridiculously short dress. "Nice look. Very... breathable. I take it Valen picked the length, huh?"

Ahsoka grimaced, placing both her hands in front of her thighs. Jax added cheerfully, "Don't worry, he'll get bored eventually and give ya yer jumpsuit. Just try not to trip on your way to the fresher. We've already got one messenger girl."

A flush embarrassment warred within her. Before she could retort, a quiet voice spoke from the next terminal. "Leave her alone, Jax."

Ahsoka turned. A Mirialan woman with geometric tattoos on her face looked at her with kind brown eyes. She couldn't have been much older than Ahsoka, but she spoke with a distinct maturity. "I'm Kaia. It's good to see a new face. Are you alright?"

The genuine concern in her voice was so unexpected it nearly unmanned Ahsoka. She could only manage a small nod.

Kaia's gaze softened. "It's overwhelming at first. Just focus on your console. Learn the systems. It's the only way to survive here." She reached out and gave Ahsoka's arm a brief, reassuring squeeze. The small, human contact was a lifeline in the cold, oppressive environment.

"Alright, break time's over," Jax said, though his tone lacked any real bite. "Time to learn the difference between a data-purge and a full system crash. Trust me, you don't want to make that mistake on Valen's watch." He winked. "Let's get you trained on 'the work', Liana."