Disclaimer: I do not own SW. I am merely playing with Lucas' toys.

I want to dedicate The Alliance to Suzanne, whose kind words and helpful suggestions have encouraged me to continue with Inertia, as well as try my hand at other, smaller fanfictions. This is why I decided to end Deena Shan and Kale Roshuir's relationship in a nicer, more Imperial manner, in honour of her. Thanks Suzanne, for these things and more.

The Alliance

The cell was cold and dark; its only light coming from a vague blue illuminator around the sides of the room, casting shadows that made the room seem colder, disturbing the attractive female prisoner held within.

A few hours ago, Deena Shan had been escorted by a half dozen storm troopers and unceremoniously thrown into this cell. A few comments had been muttered by some of the troopers before they left. Her skin crawled as she recollected the glee contained in the mechanically distorted voices.

She had cried at first, kicking and screaming, pounding on the door and walls, using up all her energy; until she collapsed, sobbing to the floor in a heap. She could shout and scream, demand to see the prison Captain Roshuir; but no one would hear or care.

Deena could not take her mind off what was coming; she had known it since she had last seen Roshuir on Kalist VI; in that disastrous exchange between the forces of the Alliance and the Empire.

So she sank into a corner, farthest from the door, curling up on herself as she began to go over how she had ended up in this terrible predicament.

She had been so willing at the beginning, when she and her companions first started their undercover mission. Truth be told, it had turned her head she had been assigned to work with Luke Skywalker. Imagine, a hero of the Rebellion working with her, to debase Imperial operations on the oppressed planet of Kalist VI.

Only, it had not quite worked out like she had planned. Her brief, passionate fraternization with an Imperial officer had ended her unrealistic notions of galactic revolution and freedom for all.

As for Luke Skywalker, he was not at all interested in her. Even afterwards, when she had risked her life to help get him and the others off Jabim, he cooly brushed her off, like all the other freedom fighters she had encountered. There were whispers going around that she had slept with an Imperial…and enjoyed it. She cursed herself, feeling sick to her very stomach

Captain Kale Roshuir. She would have to fall head over heels in love with an officer of the Imperial Fleet. How clichéd and cruel for both her and for him.

And now he hates me, even though I tried my hardest to tell him, to try to somehow make amends for leading him and his men into a trap.

Of course, it had started completely accidentally, as most situations of infatuation do. A few brief glances while she worked in her technicians overalls, a shy smile in the corridors as he gave her a tour of the base. But out of the thousands of men and women at the facility, they seemed to meet too frequently; it was as if Roshuir has been finding things for her to solve for him, going out of his way to bring them into contact more and more frequently.

How could she refuse him? How could any woman have refused Kale? He was so handsome, respectful, and looked so attractive in a uniform. Though he worked for the Imperials, he was a good man. Even she could see that.

To her Rebel companions, Imperials were faceless, nameless bullies with no respect for anyone, treating women like possessions. It was all there in the Alliance's propaganda. The facts and figures on the number of women seized and channeled into the Empire's secretive brothels was equally as frightening.

Though now that she considered it, the Alliance was hardly any better. Rogue Squadron had some unique farewell rituals, and as women were few and far between on the frontlines of their civil war, Rebel leaders preferred to use their women as spies in Imperial households.

Deena suddenly felt unclean, dirty, like a whore. How could the Alliance have made her stoop to such a level? They may not have said it in so many words, but why else was she on the mission? She had no battle experience, no skills to speak of really. She was more like a gun-tooting rookie than a soldier.

Her cheeks burned. If she had have wanted that sort of life, she would have joined a dancing troupe, or gone to Coruscant on her own accord, like Leonia Tavira, the rumored teen-aged mistress, and now wife of Moff Tavira.

Always in the wrong place at the wrong time, Deena. That's what her Dad used to say.

And now here she was, awaiting her trial and punishment at the hand of the man she loved. How ironic that he would never understand her reasoning, or how hard she had tried to prevent her Alliance group from carrying out that ambush.

Deena sat in the corner, curling up on herself tighter than before; not wanting the camera she knew was monitoring her movements to capture her tears.