Hey all. Sometimes I doodle dresses and armor and whatnot, and I've decided to post some of the SWTOR designs I've come up with. The first is a dress that I imagined my SW would wear. Unashamedly Padme-influenced. The second is armor I designed for my SW as the Emperor's Wrath. I realized after drawing this that it's basically a cross between Satele Shan and Thana Vesh's armor, with a hint of Act I Jedi Armor (don't remember the set's name) for good measure.

Got tired of asking people to draw stuff for me and decided to try it myself. SO. Here's the quick art I just started of my Sith Warrior and Malavai Quinn. My Reference Note: I don't know whose picture this is, I just used a Google search. Much thanks to whoever took this. In Progress Spoilered for size of pictures.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN Taris "Vault code sequence arming." Quinn drummed his fingers as a mechanical voice broke out over the whine of the alarms. He raised his eyes from the vault keypad where Ishtaa was typing furiously. He allowed himself a long look at her face in profile, one he never would have given her if her back was not turned, taking comfort in the familiar expression: one of absolute focus on the task at hand, her concentration blocking out any trace of fear or doubt. "The reactor core will self-destruct in sixty seconds." A chilling thought crossed his mind. What if after all they had lived and fought through, this was the end? What if, despite the determination etched into Ishtaa's face and frame, they couldn't make it into the vault in time? "Vault code sequence initiating." He wetted his lips anxiously. "The imposter's estimate had better be right," he said. "If this takes more than a minute, we'll be caught in the explosion." "Just sit tight." Ishtaa continued to type unperturbed, her voice as calm as Quinn had ever heard it. "I'm sure this will work." "Of course, my lord." He lowered his head somewhat sheepishly. "The reactor core will self-destruct in forty-five seconds." The timer's announcement shook Quinn's attempt at bravado. Trying not to let his panic show, he turned around, glancing about the room just in time to see a group of Republic commandos try to sneak up on the pair. He froze. "My lord, to complicate the matter, it seems we have been spotted." That caught Ishtaa's attention. Abruptly breaking away from the keypad, she spun around, hands flying instinctively to her lightsabers. "Blast," she hissed. Drawing her weapons, she turned to Quinn. "Take over. Keep trying to get into the vault." "But if one of them should shoot you—" "You can deal with my injuries once we're inside the vault," she snapped, "since I suspect stitching together bits of exploded Sith is a bit beyond your capabilities." Reluctantly, he nodded. He began trying to slice into the vault, ignoring the sounds of battle just behind him. He stopped himself from turning around twice, but he couldn't keep from wincing when he heard the sound of blaster fire grazing skin. Mercifully, he didn't have to endure long. "Move over." "That was quick," he said mildly as he stepped aside. "They were weak." She resumed working, her fingers beginning to fumble in her haste. "What's our status?" "The immediate threat has been quelled. However, this place will explode in exactly ten seconds…" Twelve…Eleven… "Now." "The reactor core will self-destruct in ten seconds." Something like a grimace flashed across Ishtaa's face. Quinn saw her throat tighten as she swallowed, the only betrayal of uncertainty in her otherwise calm façade. If he hadn't been seen her lips move, he would not have heard her speak, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "If there's something you want to say before the end, now's the time." "I…" His voice failed. His thoughts raced, a million ideas running through his head. There were so many things he never had the chance to say, could never admit. His heart thudded in his chest, beating out an off-kilter rhythm against his ribs. This was his last chance. There was nothing left to lose. With some effort, he forced himself to speak through the lump in his throat. I love you. But that wasn't what came out. "I'm sorry you never got the chance to avenge your parents' deaths," he said thickly. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more to help you." Ishtaa stopped typing and looked at him, taken aback by his words. For a moment, they stared at each other, the alarms and the vault completely forgotten. "The reactor core will self-destruct in five seconds." Ishtaa visibly jumped and resumed her work at a frantic pace. At long last, the vault let out mechanical hiss. "Vault lock disarming." "Four." "Vault door airlock releasing." "Three." "Vault open." Ishtaa grabbed his hand. "Get inside!" she shouted, pulling him in the direction of the door. "Right behind you, my lord!" Diving headlong into the vault from a dead sprint, they staggered inside the vault just before the door closed behind them. As if on cue, an explosion rocked the vault, throwing them both to the ground.

CHAPTER TWELVE Fury Quinn kept glancing at her. She was leaning back in her chair on the verge of dozing off, her eyes almost shut. He probably thought she couldn't see her. She let him continue for several minutes. She had to suppress a smile multiple times; he was just so nervous. Whatever it was that was making him so edgy, it was amusing to watch. Her curiosity got the better of her when she noticed him setting his jaw and standing up even straighter than he usually did. "Something the matter, Captain?" He jumped visibly. "No," he stammered. "Nothing at all." She turned to look at him openly. He wasn't looking at her anymore. His eyes were instead fixed stubbornly on some point out in space. She wasn't fooled. For one thing, she could sense his anxiety through the Force, his aura pulsing in sync with his pounding heartbeat. For another, was blushing furiously. She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing as she nodded. "Very well." She felt Quinn's eyes on her again as she stretched and rose from her chair. She had almost made it to the doorway when he gave in. "Actually, there was one thing I've been meaning to ask you…" She smiled. "By all means." Quinn cleared his throat, shuffling his feet awkwardly. "Well…you've caused me some difficulty and I'd like to confirm that it was unintended." He paused as if waiting for her to reply. When she responded with a confused eyebrow, he continued. "Forgive me if I'm mistaken," he said, stumbling slightly over his words, "but some time ago it seems you expressed an interest in me beyond our professional relationship." Ishtaa blinked several times. Now it was her turn to blush slightly. Flirting with Quinn had been an impulse. The first time it was because of his word choice. Since then it had become a game, testing how much it took to get him to drop his professionalism and show some emotion. "I've given it no further thought," she said. "A momentary amusement, that's all." The instant she had said it, she regretted it. The truth was, she liked flirting with him, liked seeing him act like a human being instead of a droid wearing a uniform. She liked that she could unsettle him so easily. More than that, she realized, she couldn't imagine going into battle without him. True, she had gotten along without him before they met, and she enjoyed Vette and Jaesa's company, but when she went to the most dangerous planets, into the most brutal battles, he was the only one she wanted by her side and the only one who she knew, without a doubt, would have her back. But the words were said. To take them back now would seem an afterthought. So when Quinn gave her a shaky smile, she let him answer without interruption. "Ah," he said, sounding almost relieved, "then all is well." He swallowed heavily, his calm expression flickering for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was thick. "Forget I brought it up." She nodded. "Understood." And she left.

CHAPTER ELEVEN Fury Quinn cursed and yanked his fingers back from the engine, waving them about to ease the sting. "You kiss your mother with that mouth?" He glared at the blue Twi'lek in the doorway. "Don't you have something to do?" he asked irritably, grabbing a wrench from his toolkit. "Slicing? Sleeping? Reprogramming 2V for the tenth time this week?" "Nah, Ish isn't up yet and I just finished with 2V last night." She examined her nails casually. "He speaks Jawa now, in case you were wondering." "Does he now?" Quinn asked through gritted teeth. Vette rolled her eyes. "Don't get too excited, Captain. Someone might actually think you have a sense of humor." He didn't feel any need to reply to that comment. Vette stared at him for a few seconds, waiting for him to respond. When it became clear that he wasn't planning to answer, she began wandering about the engine room aimlessly. Quinn briefly considered kicking her out, but it occurred to him that she would probably find some other, even more obnoxious way to irk him. She peered over his shoulder. "You tightened the reactor bolt too far." He turned to face her, forcing himself to smile benignly. "What do you want, Vette?" The twi'lek threw her hands up innocently. "Why do you have to be so hostile? I just wanted to chat!" Quinn's scowl returned. "I seem to recall your master spoke to you about chatting." "Ishtaa told me to stop bugging you about Moff Broysc," she said. "She didn't say anything about chatting." Sighing, Quinn rubbed his temples wearily. "An omission I will soon remedy." "You don't even know what I was going to talk to you about." "No," he said. "But I know that it was you planning to do the talking. I think that's sufficient." "What, are you going to rat me out to 'my master?'" Vette made a face and puffed her chest out. "My lord," she said mockingly, "Vette was attempting to be social in direct violation of section seven, paragraph C—" "A word to the wise," Quinn said coolly, "don't pursue a career in acting or espionage. That was the worst Imperial accent I've ever heard." She ignored his comment. "Why do you call her 'my lord?'" Quinn raised an eyebrow. "It's military protocol," he answered, genuinely confused. Was she really curious about procedure? "Superiors are to be addressed as masculine, regardless of gender. Calling her 'my lady…'" "That's not what I meant," Vette interrupted. "I mean, why don't you just call her Ishtaa like everybody else on this ship?" He froze. This was dangerous territory. At last, he shrugged, forcing himself to remain casually aloof. "Like I said: it's military protocol." "Yeah, and I'm the Emperor's daughter. Last time I checked, it's protocol to do what your master wants, and I'm pretty sure she prefers her name." "That may be the case," he answered, more firmly than was really necessary, "but I prefer to use her proper title, a fact I believe she understands." Vette wrinkled her nose. "Why? It's so formal." "I like formal." "Yeah," she said, chuckling, "I got that. But why are you so afraid of being informal?" A look of understanding crossed her face. "Oh my gosh. You like her." "I hardly see how that's some big epiphany," he said disdainfully. "I would never have come aboard this ship if I disliked her." Vette crossed her arms skeptically. Quinn squirmed at the silence. "We work well together. She's efficient, intelligent, honorable, powerful…" "Cute." He grimaced. "'Cute' is not the word I would use." Vette put her hands on her hips, grinning. "But there is a word you would use?" "Why are you asking me all these questions, apart from to annoy me?" "Are you seriously blushing right now?" Quinn ducked his head, embarrassed. "If you're not going to say something useful, I'd appreciate it if you could leave. I need to fix this engine before we can travel to Dromund Kaas." "Alright, alright, I'll leave you alone. But you should really talk to Ishtaa. Wouldn't want your distraction to keep you from 'peak efficiency.'" He shot her a glare. Tossing her lekku over her shoulder with a childish grin, Vette sprang into a mock salute and then exited, leaving Quinn alone to fix the engine…and mull things over in peace.

AN: My version of Jaesa's conversion is a bit different from the game. Quinn and the guards are out of the room taking care of other matters (so they don't hear the whole 'light side' thing) and Jaesa doesn't read Ishtaa's nature until after they fight. CHAPTER TEN Hutta Ishtaa's bright green eyes went wide, her cheeks turning pale. "No," she said forcefully. "Jaesa, don't you dare—" Ignoring her, Jaesa closed her eyes and reached out. Almost immediately, she recoiled, taken aback by the immense strength of Ishtaa's signature. The Force rolled off of her in bright, gleaming waves that burned and flared as they met Jaesa's skin, filling her with warmth and purpose. Far from the harsh, bitter vacuum of the Dark Side, or the passionless sphere of the Council—cool and smooth like marble—Ishtaa's presence was different. It was adrenaline and serenity, the thrill of righteous fury sated in the wake of a victory and the thrum of laughter. It was glorious. When Jaesa opened her eyes, she saw with astonishment that Ishtaa's eyes were shining. "You mustn't tell anyone," she breathed, her voice raw and shuddering. "The truth…what I am…no one must know." She gritted her teeth, closing her eyes. "Let me join you." Ishtaa stared. "What?" "What you have…I want that. Let me come with you, be your apprentice. I can help you." "I don't…" Ishtaa sighed. "What I am...Learning to be like me…It'll be dangerous." "I don't care. I've seen what you've done, and I've felt your power. I've never seen anyone do what you've done. You feel, you love, you feed on passion, and yet your actions reflect only light. You appear to be an agent of the dark side, but it's a mask." Jaesa's eyes flashed. "All my life I've put up with deceit and denial. I thought the Jedi would be different. You showed me otherwise." She grasped the Sith's hands, her eyes still gleaming with the impressions of Ishtaa's nature. "Please. Show me to walk the light path. The true light path." "Jaesa…" Both jumped at the unexpected growl. They had nearly forgotten that Karr was still present. "I'll see that the Jedi disavow you," he spat. "You will be labeled an enemy of the order." "She will not be alone." Jaesa's face lit up. "Then I will go with you?" she asked. "I can stand by your side, as your apprentice?" Ishtaa met the girl's wide-eyed look evenly. "Baras feared your power. As an enemy of the Jedi, I feared your power also. But as an agent of true light…Neither Jedi nor Sith..." She trailed off. Slowly, thoughtfully, she nodded. "I sense that we could do great things, you and I."

CHAPTER NINE Ishtaa sneered as she held the blade to Nomen Karr's neck. She wanted to kill him. It was men like him who had killed her parents: hypocrites, Jedi whose pretensions of peace were mere facades, suppressing the brutal beasts that lurked within. At least the Sith were honest about their vicious, power-hungry nature. I want to kill him. The thought pounded in her skull. I want to avenge my parents. Yet, as she stared down at him, his face glowing gold in the yellow light of her lightsaber, she felt the impulse wither and die. She realized as she looked down the bridge of her nose at him, her stomach twisting with a mixture of pity and revulsion, that he was beneath her. She would have her vengeance...but he was unworthy of her wrath. His death would not be revenge. It would be an insult to her parents' names. Her lip curled. She sheathed her lightsaber. "You are despicable." ----------------------------------------------------------------------- She could feel Quinn's gaze on the side of her face. "If you have something to say, Captain, spit it out." He glanced away, embarrassed. "Sorry, my lord. It's just…I was merely wondering why you spared his life. His death would have drawn Jaesa just as well as his current, living anguish, if not more effectively." Ishtaa gritted her teeth. There it was, out in the open. For a moment, she considered telling him all—her parents, the vendetta, everything. But then…She knew how he felt about letting emotions cloud one's judgment. "There was no need," she said finally. "He was at my mercy." She swallowed, debating whether or not she should say more. Quinn was quiet when he spoke again. He lowered his eyes seriously. "You didn't wish to sink to his level." It was not a question. Ishtaa turned to look at Quinn. Force-insensitive or no, Quinn was one of the most perceptive people she had ever met. He knew. Somehow, without her telling him, he had her all figured out. Quinn, noticing her lack of a response, raised his eyes to meet hers. She felt once more compelled to reveal everything, to tell him the story from the beginning. But there was no need. He already, in his own peculiar, analytical way, knew. "Yes," she answered simply.

INTERLUDE Under Quinn and Vette's care, Ishtaa recovered from her illness. Embarrassed by what she perceived to be a display of weakness—particularly in front of the only two people whose opinions she ever truly cared about—she pressed on with renewed intensity. After a long search, she finally located Master Yonlach amidst the sand dunes of Tatooine. Initially angered by Yonlach's incapacitation of Quinn and taken off-guard by his comments about his 'feelings' for her, she lashed out at the old man and his apprentice. Once they were at her mercy, however, she spared their lives. Ishtaa hurried to Alderaan where she met with the sleazy Duke Kendoh. Revolted by his bootlicking and lechery, she barely tolerated his presence, dealing instead with his Sith guard Fimmress whenever possible. When her business on Alderaan was finished, she discovered that Kendoh had attempted to pin one of his decisions upon her. Incensed, she ordered Fimmress to kill his former master. After departing from Alderaan, Ishtaa was contacted by Jaesa Wilsaam herself. The girl, having sensed her parents' change of loyalty to the Empire, decided that she was unwilling to put any more loved ones in harm's way. However, Nomen Karr interfered. An undeterred Ishtaa killed one of his Jedi and spared another before travelling to Hutta, where she met Nomen Karr face to face…

CHAPTER EIGHT Tatooine A blur of light. A flash of color. A voice, distant through her foggy mind. "My lord—" "Ishtaa! Ishtaa!" Her head lolled to one side. She groaned indistinctly. A hand on her forehead, cool and reassuring. "Vette?" she mumbled. "Vette, is that you?" A feminine sigh of relief replied. The hand brushed down the side of her face, fingertips pushing her messy hair away. "She's alive." "She'll recover." Too big to be Vette's hand. A wave of pain in her head, pounding. A lash across her stomach. She cried out. The hand left her body. Green lights flickering behind her eyelids. Words in and out of hearing. Pain. Shock. Sedatives. Take effect. Nothing.

Quinn Tatooine With a growl, Ishtaa drove her lightsabers into the beast's belly. The thing gave a long, disgustingly moist dying sound as the Sith deluminated her sabers. "I expected that to be a difficult fight." She raised an eyebrow. "Against womp rats?" she scoffed. "Your lack of faith disturbs me." Her last comment might have been terrifying coming from the mouth of an ordinary Sith. But Quinn knew the face she put on too well to be concerned. She was teasing him again, that was all. Not terribly surprising, seeing as he had meant his initial comment to be taken with a hint of sarcasm—in compliance with her orders, of course; she had told him to loosen up. He was about to make a pithy reply when a gash on Ishtaa's stomach stole his attention. "You're injured." "What?" She glanced down. "Oh, that's nothing," she said, brushing her fingers against the wound to heal it. "Just a minor flesh wound." Quinn wasn't convinced. It wasn't deep, and the skin wove itself back together normally under Ishtaa's glowing red fingertips, but he caught the split second flinch that crossed her face as she made contact with the raw skin. She glared at him when he began to pull out a medical probe. "I said I'm fine, Captain. No need to waste supplies." "With all due respect, my lord, I don't believe ensuring your good health is a waste of anything." "Forget it," she snapped. "That's an order." "I—" He saw the steel in her eyes and knew that it was no use arguing. "Yes, my lord." "Good. Now press on. We have a lot of ground to cover if we're to return to the ship before dark." Quinn nodded mutely. He forced himself to push the conversation from his thoughts and focus on his duties. Intuition or not, his master was in all likelihood fine. What's the worst that could happen? Ishtaa went out alone the next day to join a team of bounty hunters and imperial agents on an errand in the Dune Sea. Since there was no telling how long it would be until she finished the job, Quinn, Vette, and 2V settled in for a day off. Anxious to take advantage of the peace and quiet (Vette was mercifully absent, amusing herself in the galley by attempting to teach 2V to cheat at Sabaac), Quinn dove into his private work the moment Ishtaa left. Apart from the momentary break he took to sneak past Vette (whose original lesson had branched out into Twi'lek and Huttese curse words) and get some food from the galley, he scarcely raised his eyes from his datapad all day—until his holo started beeping. He immediately recognized the signature as his master's. He answered. "I take it your mission was successful, my lord." It was then that he realized he was not speaking to Ishtaa, but to a helmet-clad bounty hunter. "My name is Arewal Sim," the bounty hunter said, the vocal distortion of his helmet amplified by the holo. "Who is this?" Quinn's voice hardened. "That's not important. The holo you're using belongs to a Sith apprentice. Where did you get it?" The bounty hunter's image flickered before coming back into view. "I know who it belongs to, Imperial. We were working together until she fell—" The bounty hunter kept speaking, but Quinn wasn't listening. It felt like all the air was being sucked from his lungs. He could hear it rushing, almost pounding in his eardrums. "Is she alive?" "Barely." The bounty hunter glanced at something Quinn couldn't see. Through the static, he could hear two other voices. "She's hanging on somehow, but if she doesn't get medical attention soon—" "She will," Quinn said briskly. "Stay put." "Roger that. You'd better hurry." Quinn turned off the holo and bolted from the room. Vette poked her head into the hall as he hurried past her. "What's going on?" He paused in the doorway. "When I depart, set up the medical bay as well as you can. Get 2V to help you." "What?" He turned without answering and proceeded to gather up the various medical supplies strewn about his quarters, cramming them unceremoniously into the small box he usually carried. "Quinn!" Vette scurried into his room, her lekku swishing about behind her. "What's going on?" "Your master collapsed in the middle of her mission. She needs proper medical help." Vette's eyes widened. "Ishtaa's hurt?! Oh my gods, is she okay?" "Well, if she was, she wouldn't exactly need my help, would she?" Vette ignored his sarcasm. She crossed her arms. "I'm going with you," she said stubbornly. "No." "Yes." She positioned herself in the doorway so Quinn could not get out. "Absolutely not. Let me through." "Let me go with you." His scowl deepened. "I've already told you," he snapped, "no. You'll only get in my way if you come along—much like you are right now, I might point out. Now get out of my way or I will make you get out of the way." "Not happening. If Ishtaa's in trouble, I'm coming with you." Quinn gritted his teeth, weighing his options. Finally, he sighed. "Alright. Don't make me regret this." Vette grinned. "Atta boy—sir," she added hurriedly, seeing the look on his face. "Atta sir." He tried not to roll his eyes. "2V!" he shouted. "Yes, Captain?" "Execute Special Order 46." 2V's eyes glowed orange. "Emergency healing protocols activated. Preparing to--" Without waiting to hear the droid's programmed speech, Quinn strode from the room, with Vette close behind him. He only hoped he was not too late.

CHAPTER SIX Tatooine Her heart stopped. It had been twenty-two years since she had seen such green eyes, and she had hoped never to see them again. For a horrible moment, she panicked, thinking the Sith recognized her face. No, she thought. That would be impossible. The girl had been merely a baby when Sharack had taken her to Korriban. She tried to push the thought from her mind. It was unlikely that the girl knew the truth. Ruminating would only stir her emotions, make the Sith more likely to sense her fear. Yet she couldn't shake the feeling that there was recognition in the girl's face.

AN: Quinn's actions after the battle might seem a little out of character. But I wanted to portray him as being a little less one-dimensional, not completely stoic all the time, and I thought that his comment to the Jedi (the snarky one) provided an interesting potential insight into his character. CHAPTER FIVE Fury "Come on," Vette whined, "let me shoot." "Not yet," Ishtaa snapped. "I want the element of surprise." The ship shuddered violently. 2V staggered into the compartment. "Master, I believe we are under attack." "I've noticed," she replied acidly. She pressed her lips together in a thin line and eyed the battle for an opening. The ship rattled as it took another hit. "Can the element of surprise hurry up?" asked Vette, her voice rising in panic. "Wait for her signal." Quinn glanced at Ishtaa in his peripheral vision. "Your master knows what she's doing." Ishtaa smiled faintly. Quinn acknowledged the gesture with an almost imperceptible nod. "There," he finally said to Vette, pointing. "Those turrets up ahead are doing the most damage. They must think we're no threat. They're focusing all of their fire on other targets." "Their mistake, our victory. The plan is working." Ishtaa stood up and stepped down from the small podium where she sat, her eyes never leaving the battle as she moved to stand behind Vette. "Fire on the turrets. On my signal. Three…two…" She could almost read the text embossed on the side of the turret. "Now, Vette!" Vette responded with a volley of blasts, leaving a trail of smoldering crater's in the Fury's wake. The strength of the explosions rocked the entire ship. "That should cripple them." "My lord, fighters coming in!" His words were met with a flurry of incoming red blasts. Ishtaa's eyes hardened. "Dance around them if you can," she ordered. "Vette, fire at will." One by one, the fighters went up in flames. "Damn," hissed Vette. "One got away." "Pursue him." Quinn looked up. "My lord, might I suggest a different tactic?" "If you do so quickly." "Tailing the pilot may, depending on his skill, take a long time and leave us open to attack. It would be much more efficient to go around and intercept him from the front." She paused to consider. "Belay my last order. Steer to intercept." "Yes, my lord." Furrowing his brow in concentration, Quinn piloted the ship off-course to turn about and meet the fighter another way. Ishtaa crossed the cockpit and stood behind him, monitoring his progress. A moment later, the Republic fighter reappeared in the Fury's view. "Prepare a missile," Ishtaa ordered. "I want this skirmish to end with a bang." "Yes, sir!" The fighter made no attempt to flee. Ishtaa frowned. "Why isn't he moving?" "I calculated our angle of approach so that we would be in his blind spot, my lord. He doesn't see us." "And he never will. Fire." Vette gleefully pushed the red button. There was a short pause and then… "By the Maker!" The entire ship shook with the strength of the shockwaves. Ishtaa, caught off-guard by the intensity of the blast, stumbled forward. She might have fallen over if not for her quick reflexes and the chair in front of her. She braced herself against the chair back, digging her fingers in to compensate for the instability of her feet. It was only after she regained her balance that she noticed she was grabbing something warm. "Sorry, Captain," she said, removing her hands from Quinn's shoulders immediately. She brushed off the front of her robes. "No apology necessary." His voice sounded strained, Ishtaa thought. Probably he was trying to be polite, or else not let on that her grip had hurt. No matter; she hadn't grabbed him nearly hard enough to actually injure him. "Vette, would you please go deal with 2V? He sounds like he's on the verge of a circuit breakdown." "Yeah, sure." Rolling her eyes, Vette slouched off to the galley. Just before she left, she muttered under her breath: "Stupid droid." Ishtaa sighed and, stretching, stumbled into the seat Vette had vacated. "Get us out of here, Captain." "Right away, my lord." He pushed a few buttons and then, returning to the steering wheel, said, "You may want to hold on. With all the wreckage floating around, this could be a rough exit." "Noted." With a tiny lurch, the Fury began to move forward under Quinn's control. Ishtaa breathed deeply and closed her eyes. Despite all the things Vette said about him whenever he was out of earshot (and, quite often, when he could hear her perfectly well) Ishtaa liked having Quinn in her crew. As much as she enjoyed the sisterly banter she shared with Vette, it was nice to have someone calm and stable on board. Sometimes, when the Twi'lek's chatter started pounding at her temples, she would retreat to the oasis of the bridge and do her work there. Quinn never disturbed her or commented on the matter. He did his work, and she did hers. Opening her eyes slightly, she studied him in her peripheral vision. He was doing it again, she mentally noted with a smile. It was the face he made whenever he was concentrating on something. She had first picked up on it during one of her bridge work sessions, but as time went on she noticed that he often did it when he had to patch her up in the field. It wasn't an angry face, quite, or just a furrowed brow. It was a thinking face, and that was the only proper name she could conceive for it. She started as the ship rolled to one side and turned upside down. Before she had time to properly process this fact, the ship had righted itself and Quinn made the jump into hyperspace. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Quinn's thinking face had disappeared and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. "Quinn?" she asked, bemused. "Was that…a barrel roll?" He turned pink and his smile dropped. "Apologies, my lord. That was not entirely necessary." "No, no. It's alright. Relax," she said, seeing the mixture of embarrassment and anxiety still written on his face. "I'm not going to force-choke you." She smiled, not mockingly, but with a hint of amused sarcasm. "It's just somewhat unusual, that's all. I didn't take you for one to do tricks." "Of course, my lord." And then, as if the words were spilling forth of their own volition: "I sometimes like to revel in the aftermath of a victory." He clamped his mouth shut, reasserting control over the unbidden word vomit. Ishtaa's smile softened, her sarcasm fading in favor of an understanding sympathy. "I daresay you earned it," she said. "That was some of the finest piloting I've ever seen." Quinn's blush deepened. It was a marvel his skin didn't catch fire. "Thank you, my lord." "No need. I'm merely stating fact. You're an excellent pilot." He made no reply. They said nothing for several moments, but it was not the comfortable silence that usually inhabited the bridge. It was a strange, stiff silence full of uncertainty and impulse to speak, mingled with hesitance to go out on a limb. It was Ishtaa who finally spoke. "Why were you never promoted?" Quinn grimaced. For the first time in the weeks she had known him, she sensed feelings radiating from him. They rolled out in waves, battering her with a sense of hatred and disgust. "I'm sorry," she said. "Forget I said anything." "No," he said hurriedly. "I must." "That wasn't an order, Quinn," she said; from the look on his face, she knew that the intentional use of his surname was not lost on him. "It was an overly personal question. One you shouldn't feel obligated to answer if you do not wish to do so." "Respectfully, my lord, I believe I am fully obligated to answer. Not," he added, sensing that she was about to disagree, "because you are my superior officer, but because you have put a great deal of faith in me. You deserve to know." Ishtaa hesitated. "Very well."

In playing my Sith Warrior and my (male) Smuggler, I realized that in all their galactic adventures, it's totally plausible that Vette would look up and track down Risha at some point (or vice versa)...and that Vette might meet Risha's new friends, including the Corso. Quirky, cute, city-girl Vette; cute, awkward, farm-boy Corso. It could work. And then it got better: Corso. Vette. CorVette.

Oh my gosh, these are both amazing. I can't wait to see more!!! Do you take requests? I've been dying to see my Sith Warrior and Quinn together. Or Vette/Corso.

Fiction is called "A Fool's Crime." It might be part of a trilogy at some point, so if I do write that I might be coming back for sequel posters. I can post images of my Sith Warrior and other relevant characters, as well as details of who/what I'd like included on request.