No Further Resistance

Leia remained on the deck for several long seconds, drawing slow, painful breaths while the chamber settled into silence once more. The invisible pressure crushing her body had vanished, but its memory lingered in every aching muscle. She pushed herself upright as best she could, refusing to give Vader the satisfaction of seeing her crawl.

The effort alone left her trembling. Darth Vader regarded her impassively. The storm of emotion that had threatened to overwhelm him had disappeared behind the polished black mask. Whatever corruption had brushed against his thoughts had retreated beyond perception, leaving only the cold discipline for which he was feared throughout the Empire.

His respirator resumed its slow, relentless rhythm as though nothing unusual had occurred. With a slight motion of his hand, he summoned the guards..Two stormtroopers stepped forward immediately. One seized Leia by the arm while the other produced a fresh pair of binders, drawing her wrists firmly together behind her back.

Leia offered no further resistance. Every movement hurt, and she knew escape would not come through futile struggle. The restraints clicked shut with mechanical precision before the soldiers guided her toward the chamber door.

"The prisoner will be transferred to my shuttle," Vader ordered. "She will be taken to the Death Star for interrogation." The troopers acknowledged the command without hesitation. Vader turned toward the corridor outside, where an Imperial officer awaited further instruction.

"This vessel is to be secured. Leave a skeleton bridge crew and one platoon of stormtroopers aboard. Restore propulsion and navigation, then deliver the corvette to the nearest Imperial shipyard for examination and refitting. Every compartment is to be searched. Recover all intelligence of value."

"At once, Lord Vader." The officer hurried away to relay the orders while engineering teams and boarding parties spread throughout the captured corvette. Damage-control crews extinguished fires, sealed ruptured bulkheads, and restored minimal life-support systems.

The diplomatic vessel that had moments before carried the hopes of the Rebellion was already becoming another Imperial prize. Leia was marched through the battered corridors of the Tantive IV. Smoke still drifted beneath the flashing emergency lights.

Scorch marks blackened the once-pristine white walls, and fallen soldiers from both sides remained where the battle had claimed them. As the escort rounded another corner, a group of surviving Rebel defenders came into view.

Leia's nakedness was a weapon they used against her, a constant, biting reminder of her utter powerlessness. Each step was an act of defiance, a refusal to crumble, to show them the tremor that ran through her. She held her chin high, her back straight, channeling every ounce of her royal training, her senatorial composure.

The prisoners' hands were secured behind their backs as stormtroopers guarded them with practiced efficiency. The prisoners looked up together..The moment they saw Leia between the Imperial guards, a profound silence settled over them. No one shouted or struggled. The expressions on their faces said enough.

Some lowered their eyes in quiet despair. Others stared at their captured princess with grief they could not conceal. A few managed the faintest nod of encouragement, silently promising that the Rebellion would endure, regardless of whatever became of them.

Leia returned the look with all the strength she could muster. Though bruised, exhausted, and scarcely able to stand, she straightened her back and lifted her chin. She would not allow them to see defeat. If this was to be the last time they looked upon their princess, they would remember her standing.

Far beyond stars and centuries, Darth Tempus watched the procession through the crimson aperture until Leia vanished from sight. He remained motionless for several moments afterward, considering everything he had witnessed. The timeline had bent in subtle but undeniable ways. Vader had faltered. Leia had survived.

The first ripple had spread exactly as the Holocron of Darth Chronos had promised. Satisfied, Tempus raised one hand. The circular portal collapsed soundlessly into a single point of crimson light before fading altogether, leaving only the quiet ticking of impossible clocks within his fortress beyond space and time.

For the first time in days, he allowed himself to rest. Chronomancy exacted a price even upon one who had mastered it. The mind could wander through centuries only so long before demanding stillness, and patience had become as valuable a weapon as any lightsaber.

The Death Star would not reach its destination for some time, and Leia's interrogation had yet to begin. There was no advantage in exhausting himself when history itself would deliver the next opportunity. Tempus crossed the silent chamber to a cylindrical bacta tank recessed into the black stone of the fortress.

The transparent cylinder rose nearly to the ceiling, its emerald fluid illuminated by soft crimson light from the surrounding chronomantic machinery. He released the clasps securing his leather harness and armor, setting each piece carefully upon a nearby rack before stepping into the tank.

The bacta closed over him as the chamber sealed with a muted hiss, suspending his pale body weightlessly within the healing fluid. Tiny streams of oxygen bubbled past the respirator built into the tank. Chronomancy taxed both body and mind in ways even the dark side could not wholly ignore.

The bacta's restorative embrace allowed him to recover while remaining hidden beyond space and time. When he emerged, rested and renewed, he would open another temporal portal. His next destination would be the interrogation chamber deep within the Death Star, where Princess Leia Organa's ordeal and his next opportunity to fracture history, awaited.