The town mayor lay dead, as did his militia - Imperial in theory, but worthless in the end. The big Zabrak Mellekor scanned the scene, then spared a dark smile for his apprentice. "Powerfully fought," he said, and deactivated his sabers.

"They were fools to show such disrespect to you," said Jaesa Willsaam, and her voice was nearly a song. With that they returned to the ship together, Jaesa following behind her master, both carrying satisfaction and pride in their manner.

The moment the ship's door closed Mellekor whirled and grabbed the front of Jaesa's robes. Her eyes widened and she made a coy moue, which he immediately shook out of her as he raised her to her toes.

"You are Sith," he spat, "not an untrained monkey-lizard. I went out there to take servants and you left me with a field of corpses instead."

She knew better than to try to cling to his arm for support; instead she stayed on her toes and stared up at him, her orange eyes wide. "Didn't their pain excite you, my lord?"

"Is that all you were watching for when you took the excuse to attack? I don't suffer your presence just so you can leap at the first pleasure you see, Jaesa. Listen to me. Watch me. Obey me. Do not initiate such senseless slaughter again." He shoved her and let go. "Your dignity reflects on my own. Live up to it."

"But master, I know you enjoyed their fear. You said the Sith Code teaches–"

"That the Force will free you?" She nodded. Mellekor snarled, his teeth white against red skin and black tattoo. Jaesa had such potential, yet proved so resistant to even the most basic principles. "You understand nothing of the motivation before those words or the meaning behind them. You think passion unrestrained and unchanneled is of as much value as passion formed and directed into true power. Sith power."

"You always hold the lesson just out of reach, master. What must I do?"

If it was out of reach it was only because she was too small a person. He could only cultivate her anger and hope she was able to learn with time. "Listen with your ears, not with your appetites. And stop slaughtering pawns; I will bring you worthy battles, but that out there was a waste. It sapped potential resources and yielded nothing more than a temporary thrill in return."

"Then why didn't you stop me?" she challenged.

"Because it wasn't worth it once you started. We are Sith, and our power is not to be questioned; I support you in public for appearance's sake and you had better be ready to serve me for the same. That unity will reinforce both my authority and your legitimacy, and it will multiply the fear we are able to spread."

"Together," she said hungrily. "Master, I feel your anger. I relish it as much as I relished the kill today." She reached toward him. "Surely, if you think our actions out there were unsatisfying, there are other things..."

She always came back to this after even the most mundane of battles. From a woman with some level of self-control that smile could even have been tempting. Mellekor seized her wrist and twisted, past where her smile widened and further until it died. "If I knew a Sith worth having as a consort I would have taken her already," he said coldly, and gave her arm a last wrench before letting go. The humiliation would strengthen her. It seemed she heeded little else he had any desire to give her. "Now go, clean yourself up. We dine with the governor tonight."

The light in her eyes dimmed. "Yes, master," she said grimly, and hurried away.

She passed by an edge of something as she rounded the corner. Captain Quinn was standing in the corridor. The officer met Mellekor's eyes for the barest fraction of a second, his expression unreadable, before he pulled himself up straight, bowed, and turned to leave.

Mellekor frowned. "In the future, captain, you will excuse yourself from my presence during my apprentice's lessons unless you have urgent information to impart. Is that clear?"

"Yes, my lord." Quinn bowed again, deeper this time, before walking briskly away. There was a servant who had a good grasp of the art of appearances; he need only learn that he wasn't entitled to know everything behind those of his betters.

So it went. The shrewd servant was powerless and the powerful one seemed hopeless. Mellekor gritted his teeth, tied his willpower tight around his irritation, and went about cleaning up for the evening.

Seriously DS Jaesa you're disgusting and an embarrassment to effective Sith everywhere.

Mellekor was, I believe, technically LS or at least light-side-of-neutral in game because lawful/minimally wasteful evil comes out that way. The Imperial LS/DS are very often "minimally wasteful evil/chaotic cackling lightning-spewing evil." But in a choice between execution of an individual and elaborate plan to save said individual? That target's dead.

I have this awful, awful urge to tell Jaesa that the day she demonstrates more Force control than I have in my left hand is the day I'll start considering her for said hand's other jobs.

"I can't accept this." Rochester kept his face blank, but Broan could see the mild panic in his eyes. He pressed the box into Rochester's hands, forcing him to hold it.

"I want you to have this, really."

"But I can't. I can't have anything like this, really... I can't!" His voice was pleading and though he cupped the box with care, he still tried to give it back to Broan.

"You can."

"I can't! I'm just an officer, barely an officer still. If anyone finds this..." He looked at the box in his hands and his shoulders slumped. It was so beautiful, such an impossible little thing. How could something so beautiful come from so stagnant a people? "I'd lose a lot. I'd lose everything."

"No, you won't," Broan put his arms around Rochester, pulling him into an embrace. The little box and Rochester's knuckles stuck into his chest, but he did not mind. "It's yours; I'm giving it to you."

"I can't..."

"You can, as my husband."

"What?" Rochester's head snapped up. His body jerked and he pulled away from Broan. "After everything I've done?"

"Why did you start informing on me in the first place, Rochester?" Broan put his hands on his hips. It hurt to feel Rochester react as he had, but he understood why; there was still much confusion between them. It would not be something easily overcome, but Broan felt it would be worth the struggle.

Rochester looked at his feet. Before, even when Broan had seen at his darkest, there had been confidence in his lover, but now there was nothing. He looked tiny, worn and broken. He chewed at his lip, turning the box compulsively over in his hands. In the Force, Rochester was as a dead thing, and Broan felt that now more than ever.

"I thought I was doing the right thing. I was told... I was told you could be a threat, that you could still have sympathies to the Republic," He reversed the direction of the box but never looked up at Broan. "After a while it became routine. I needed the routine, the structure. I realised I loved you and I started to wonder if I really was doing the right thing."

Broan sighed. He had suspected as much, but to be told so, even in such a piecemeal manner, was difficult.

"Why did you tell me? Why didn't you just stop informing and pretend it never happened?" In spite of it, Broan could not bring himself to ask the one question he wanted answered - he did not want to admit that such a side of him could exist.

"You deserved to know." Rochester spoke it such a way that it seemed obvious. Of course Broan deserved to know, it was his life.

"When... when you first came to me, when you gave me all those things from the Absolution..." Broan could feel his feet starting to itch and his knees twitch. He needed to move, to walk, and calm himself and think.

"I came because I wanted to see you," Rochester smiled, but it was weak and apologetic. "You were new. I'd... been with non-humans before; I'd flirted with the idea of a Sith... and you still seemed so much the Jedi, I... I'm sorry."

"You saw a trophy?"

Rochester nodded and the box stopped turning.

"I felt terrible, when I met you, for thinking like that. You seemed so... innocent, so lost. You knew nothing of what you were doing or who you were with and I thought, maybe, I should help," He looked at the box, pressing his fingers against the gold filigree, causing indents in his flesh. "You saved my life, so I thought I could help you protect yours."

Broan put an arm around Rochester's shoulders and cupped his cheek.

"You didn't exactly come to me with noble intentions."

"Can you forgive me?"

"Am I still a trophy to you?" Broan turned Rochester's face so that they could look at each other, eye to eye. He smiled, but there was still a sadness in Rochester's eyes, almost a hopelessness.

"You're so much more than that."

Broan kissed him, tender and gentle, letting the warmth pass between them.

"Of course I can forgive you."

Rochester nestled his head into the crook of Broan's neck, resting against his shoulder.

"I'm not a good man."

"Yes, you are. Good men try."

The crew was gone. Ennaly gave each of them a stack of credits and told them to get off the ship and to not come back until sundown. It was an odd occurrence, she tended to be very protective of her crew, but today she needed to be alone. She bought some cheap, fragile vases from a not so dependable vendor, but today she didn’t care that he overcharged her.

It was the anniversary of her father’s death today; what made this year worse was that in the spaceport today she ran into the jedi who delivered the bad news around twelve years ago. Ennaly went to her cabin curled up on the bed and started sobbing. It was painful enough every year without seeing her too.

(Around twelve years ago)

On the day it happened, her older sister Tameery was building something with Ensinlli, her twin, and Ennaly was playing Solitaire. It was a normal day. Her father was coming home and he would be there for three months!

There was a knock at the door; her mother went to answer it. It was her father’s padawan, Innovindil. Having her visit was common so Ennaly turned back to her solitaire game.

“I regret to inform you,” Hmm…she sounds upset, I wonder what’s wrong. “That in unforeseen circumstances,” I really wish she would just tell us what was wrong. “My master was struck down by the sith,” WHAT?!?!? She can’t really mean that! “It was a noble sacrifice,” I don’t care that it was noble! Struck down means dead, means never coming home.

Tameery was holding Ensinlli, and their mother was crying. Innovindil was still talking.

“It was an ambush, there were two sith and their apprentices waiting for us,” I thought jedi could see the future, why didn’t they see this coming. “My master distracted them and ordered me to run,” You listened?!? Why?!?!? He knew he couldn’t win. You left him to die. ”I have already returned to the council and gave them my report,” You went to the council first? We are…were… his family, we needed to be told first! “It is in times like this that we must remember the jedi code, there is no emotion, there is peace,” She’s quoting the jedi code. Really? Does she expect that to help, or is she showing us how great a jedi she is. “There is no death, there is the force.”

“No death! Than what happened to my father?!? Will he come back? Will we ever see him again? Do you really think that you being here is helping us at all?” Ennaly was shouting at Innovindil; in her head she was shouting at herself. Did I really say that out loud? Judging by the looks I’m getting that would be a yes.

“Ennaly,” Her mother was trying to get her to sit back down. “That isn’t helping, calm down.”

Well it was too late to go back to being invisible. “Do you think she,” Ennaly gave a disdainful look to Innovindil. “Is helping by following the rules and quoting the jedi code at us?”

“Ennaly! Go to your room until you can act civilly!” Her mother was going to escort her to her room.

“Fine, I’ll just go to my room and get back to my solitaire game. Good night mother, sisters, doom bringer.”

(Back on the ship)

“How dare she! I was ten! It just wasn’t fair,” Ennaly picked up one of the vases and threw it against the wall. It shattered with a very satisfying crunch. She ran through the ship throwing the cheap ceramics this way and that. She turned on the radio and every station seemed to have some song about losing loved ones on so she grabbed her blasters and shot out the radio.

The crew came back and found her cleaning pottery shards next to the smoking comm unit. Her hands were bleeding and there were tears streaming down her face.

“Please don’t ask. Go about your business on the ship and please don’t ask.” Ennaly could barely get the words out. Time got away from her and the crew got back much sooner than expected.

“Captain, are we going back to Belsavis?” The rest of the crew left, Corso was going to navigate. Ennaly was in no position to do her job right now.

“No Corso, set a course for Tattooine. I need to see my mother, there’s something I need to tell her.”

He looked at her sadly, ”Anything you want captain.”

While this was in my head everything I thought about writing was all doom and gloom. Now I can prove En does have some good days as well. Definately Woohoo! worthy.

Right now the person Mellekor respects most on his ship is Vette. She has this improbable unbreakable will/sense of self. Quinn, while useful, demands too many pats on the head and Jaesa is...Jaesa.

Jaesa gets really snippy in conversations when you call her out on being an uncontrolled maniac; I continue to try to tell her that it's not that I'm a fun-crushing Jedi, it's that I'm not an idiot. I haven't finished her conversation line so I don't know what's in store, but I doubt self-control figures into it.

Informing Quinn when he mentions Druckenwell that he's either a presumptuous unreliable upstart or a liar, is more entertaining than it has any right to be. Lord, that man hates the fact that I take his best as my due (no need to thank him for just doing his job, according to me) and then yell at him for unsanctioned excellence.

By the way? I think Mellekor has netted negative approval on each companion's conversation line so far. I'm loving the RP.

“He has no personality,” Vette was complaining about the newest member of the crew… again.

“I know, but he has to mess up soon. Then we can throw him out the airlock,” Perrina had an idea hatching that was absolutely fool proof.

Perrina called her adoptive mother on the com at the exact moment Quinn was walking through.

“My lord! You must not associate with slaves over the holo!”

“Quinn, may I introduce you to my mother, Lord Etonya,” Perrina could barely keep the smile off her face. This was going perfectly.

“A sith lord is a twi’lek?” Quinn could feel his chances to live slipping away.

“Mother?”

“Yes, Perrina?”

“Do you find anything offensive about this force blind human?”

“Yes, actually I do. Dispose of him daughter,” Etonya was smiling, this was all very amusing to her.

Perrina ignited her lightsabre and proceeded to hack Quinn into small pieces.

“If you’re looking to end your current employment save the heart and throw the body out the airlock,” the smile on Etonya’s face sent even the most levelheaded jedi running scared. “I have a plan.”

(Later that night)

“Yes Darth Baras, I disposed of the emotionless robot you sent to watch me. Oh, and your dinner? It contained his heart! Good bye forever you pathetic excuse for a sith!” Perrina was cackling as madly as her mother, who was now on the ship with her.

“Excellent work, I have taught you something,” There was glee in Fury tonight as the three current occupants joined hands and danced madly around the intercom.

“Mom? Do you know if Dad still has any contacts on Tatooine? I think I should lie low for a while… and maybe fake my own death.”

Ok, he wants to talk to me that could be a good sign. Ennaly was nervous; she and Corso had been on pins and needles around each other since the night. Why did he show up on my ship drunk? Why did I flirt with him like an idiot? This is probably the ‘I just want to be friends talk’; I’ve heard that often enough. Oh, look, I’m here, let’s get this over with.

“Captain, back on Ord Mantell I had a fiancée,” Corso began. He’s starting this conversation with talk of his ex? Maybe? I don’t know if he’s still seeing her. “but when my family died I went crazy and left her there when I joined the peace brigade and I haven’t heard from her since.”

I think he wants some response from me. “So… are you saying it’s over between you and her? I’m lost.”

“Yeah captain, that’s what I’m saying. You see things have been awkward between us and there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Let me guess, you just want to be friends, but you think my sister is hot and you want me to introduce you to her?” Wow, this took less time than usual.

“What? No captain, I don’t want to be friends.”

Ouch, that stings. Play it off arrogant and mocking like usual. “That’s great farm boy. You should put that on a greeting card.”

“What? No! I’m trying to ask if I can seek your hand.”

Think back to Tameery’s guide to male lingo. ‘Seek your hand’ means said male wants to enter a serious relationship. “What? Could you please repeat that?” There’s no way he could mean that. I’m not Ensinlli; I’m definitely not Tameery. I must have heard wrong.

“I’m trying to ask your permission to court you, Captain,” Corso was looking confused as the conversation spiraled out of control.

“Um…uh…yeah,” Say something cool, or interesting. Channel Tam, channel Tam. “If that means roses, love letters, and kissing before we’re supposed to, then yeah,” I hope that didn’t sound as stupid out loud, as it did in my head.

“I’ll work on the roses and the love letters; the rest I think we can manage,” as he took her in his arms.

Oh… um … wow!!! This is so much better than Tameery ever said. He smells sooooooo good, and I wasn’t crazy about the hair before but it’s absolutely perfect. He set me down; if I start giggling, I will never forgive myself. Maybe a real smile; haven’t done that in a while but a smile would be appropriate. I’m grinning like a fool but I don’t care.

“Um… we’ve got a busy day tomorrow. Get some sleep,” Ennaly watched him walk off and when he couldn’t hear her anymore (or so she thought) she started giggling interspersed with squeees.

I almost managed to redirect the entire food shipment from Worthless the Hutt to my favorite Nar Shaddaa gang (and actual local giving-a-damn) contact. If the Nikto heavies hadn't interfered it would've been perfect.

Lucky for me I got enough advance warning to call my brother in. It's nice to have Vierce in town. He was always prone to brooding; working for the Republic Army he at least gets to travel the galaxy and brood in exciting places. Maybe someday the benefit of that will soak through even his thick skull.

So where was I? Gunfight. Deal went bad. Vierce and his shiny Republic ship flew right on in to lift me out; couldn't get anyone else to take advantage, didn't stick around too long trying.

Jorgan, the Cathar Vierce runs with, was waiting in the main room. He made a decent attempt at setting me on fire with his glare. "Sir, can I ask what we're doing yet?" he asked Vierce.

"Rescuing the pathetically needy," said Vierce. I didn't hit him, because I'm just that nice a guy.

"I see that, sir."

"That's all the information I'm running on. Ask him. Anyway, we're leaving now." Vierce started yelling off to his left. "Hey, Dorne, I'll take over."

I followed him. "I can drive." My brother's rig wasn't the prettiest thing in the world, but I figure they must give spec ops something with a little kick.

"Not a chance."

I followed him up to the bridge anyway. In the pilot's seat was a pretty blonde thing, uniformed, with grooming and posture of a precision that seemed to lie somewhere between 'Jedi' and 'inexperienced guilty criminal overcompensating in her attempts to look clean-cut.' Whatever the case, she still seemed a cut above anything I would expect to be hanging around my brother. I may have whistled. A little bit.

She looked up at me with big green eyes, then, frowning a little, at Vierce. "Sir?"

"Sergeant Dorne, this is my brother Kirsk, who is going to leave you alone until he leaves this ship." Strangely enough, he seemed to be directing more irritation at her than at me. "Kirsk, this is Sergeant Dorne, and your harassing her would almost certainly end up as a demerit on my record."

"Ooh, incentivize me a little harder, why don't you." If I wasn't planning on giving her a hard time earlier I was definitely considering it now. Vierce thwacked me in the back of the head. That doesn't usually change anything, but at least it registers his disapproval.

She managed to look nervous without losing an ounce of that dignity. "Sir, a civilian's presence here is highly irregular."

"I never broke a rule that didn't need breaking, Sergeant. He stays." That's my brother. He just didn't usually say it so angrily. He stood aside to let her go; she avoided both our eyes on the way out. He glared after her for a second, then took over the ship's controls. "Kirsk, where'm I dropping you off?"

Funny thing about the degree to which my little caper had gone wrong. "Uh, heat signature's a little high right now, um, anywhere. Mind if I lay low with you for a few days?"

"That really is a little awkward on an active-duty ship," he warned.

"Things are tight."

He knew I didn't break out that phrasing unless it was bad. He did this little resigned mouth-tightening thing. "Of course you can stay. Try to behave. My superiors call, stay out of sight."

"You got it." Like I would want to talk to his bosses. "So anyway, her. You've mentioned her once or twice…Imperial defector?"

"Yeah."

"Huh." Republic Army's decision, not mine; I for one can admit I've met okay Imps, and the Army might give its approval, but good luck convincing Vierce. "And they assigned her to you? What the blazes were they thinking?"

"She's Havoc Squad caliber, they tell me. She pulls her weight, I guess." He rubbed his neck, a sure sign of trouble. "Believe me, if I had the beginnings of a whisper of an echo of an excuse to get rid of her, she'd be long gone. As it is I keep getting dirty looks for mistreating her."

Well, yeah. If you didn't grow up on an occupied world you might not understand where his kneejerk rage comes from. "Does she know why you hate her with a passion that's leaking all over the visible spectrum?"

"She's got an idea. She doesn't need my life story."

"I guess that's fair. To one of you." Asking Vierce to go over it again would be harsh. "Explaining what it was like where you're from would be fair, too. To the other one of you. That's rough, brother."

"No kidding."

"Moving along. This one of those rigs where I have to sleep on the floor?"

"Pfft, no. Get Jorgan to show you a bunk. And don't piss him off, he's a biter."

"Like that's anything new." I grinned and showed myself out.

*

I lay low, keeping myself occupied with minor shenanigans on the HoloNet, while Havoc Squad went about its job. They were around early and late; Miss Dorne made herself scarce, but Jorgan seemed easygoing enough. Their pet droid was…scary. Hilarious, but 'hilarious and equipped with missile turrets' gets scary pretty fast. I considered slicing his control systems for kicks, but ended up deciding I didn't want to die that way.

Morning of day three I finally caught Miss Dorne eating. She was alone in the galley, scarfing down her breakfast like she only had one minute to do it in. For all I know, in her head-schedule she did.

"Morning," I said, breaking out the least awful rations I could find.

She looked me over, smiled a small and arguably cordial smile. "Good morning."

"Big plans for the day?"

"I'm not yet certain of the assignment." She turned her attention back to her food.

"It's probably against protocol to talk to me, isn't it," I said. "I'm not doing this to get you in trouble, promise."

"I believe you. I'm just not in a position to describe the squad's activities."

"Forget work. You had a chance to sightsee here yet? Nar Shaddaa's too exciting a place to spend all your time on the job."

"I'm afraid I haven't had the time to 'sightsee.' I'm sure there's excitement, but…very little of it seems legitimate."

"That's the point." She was too ladylike to make a face at that, but I could tell she was close. Honestly. That made two people I knew who would genuinely disapprove of Nar Shaddaa's many pleasures. "But no, you're not the casino type. You're more a Coruscant kind of girl, aren't you." Politics. Academia. Culture. Boredom.

Her eyes lit up. "I am partial to Coruscant, yes."

"You spend a lot of time there? I bet the place suits you." It occurred to me, too late, that that might be a sensitive subject for a fence-hopper.

"I spent my first two years in Republic space on Coruscant. Learning the ways of the Republic at the source, as it were." From the warmth in her voice, she loved every minute of it. "I got my advanced medical degree at the Institute of Medicine there."

Hey, a starting point. "…wait, the Institute? You're talking the central Salk Institute for Medicine?"

"Yes, that's the one."

"I almost died there once!" True story. Con gone wrong. "That's really about the extent of my time with the place, I didn't go back."

She smiled uncertainly. "You can't be serious."

"For once I am."

Sportingly enough, she listened as I unfolded the tale. I could tell she didn't quite know what to make of me, but between her questions and her terribly expressive reactions I was getting a good idea of what to make of her. Decent. Square. Law-abiding. Dull as dirt, but both pretty and gracious…just the sort of girl various family members who aren't me would favor if only she didn't have that accent.

Something I said finally got her to laugh. It was the absolute nicest thing about her to date, enough to make me wish she would do it more often.

Just then Vierce poked his head in. Miss Dorne turned to him and the light in her face went out. "Sir," she said with a little strained smile.

"Sergeant." He nodded a little. "Kirsk."

My brother, the charmer. I spoke up. "I was just telling your sergeant here about that time on Coruscant when for complex but very compelling reasons I was hired to impersonate a professor's assistant for one of their biochem lectures. Absolute worst stimchem trip I've had in my life."

Miss Dorne recovered a little. "I've helped him identify two brushes with death he didn't even know he had had, going through that laboratory setup," she said. "I'm not sure what to say about the safety standards of the Institute."

"I know what to say," said I. "Thank the stars I'm not an academic man." I finished my glass. "Anyway, big brother, you after something?"

"Yeah, actually. I need Dorne in the field. Jorgan and Forex are already good to go."

She leaped to her feet. "Of course, sir," she said hurriedly, and rushed past him.

"Well," I said, watching her go. "She's not terrified of you or anything."

"Terrified? Her? Nah. She's just really enthusiastic about orders."

Vierce…actually really would believe that. "Whatever you say," I said, as sarcastically as I knew how.

That whooshed gently over his head. "I gotta be out for the day," he said. "You sticking around?"

"No way I'm showing my face on this planet anytime soon. Yeah, I'll stay here, hold down the fort."

"No joyrides."

"Dammit, Vierce." Ever since that one time I borrowed a supply transport to grab some stuff outside town and also, as long as I was out there, see how it handled in a snowstorm…

"Get your own rig."

"I did. It got stolen."

"Someday you'll have to fill me in on that story."

"Someday." As soon as I found a way to make that little fiasco sound good. "Get a move on."

*

The day's console activities yielded some really interesting information. So, while I was there, I tapped Vierce's account to order in Tionese for him and the crew. Then I ate with him and the gang, and then I pulled him aside.

I brought up the console in his quarters. "So I was being an irresponsible security risk because the antique file system you guys have on this ship is mesmerizing," I started. "I couldn't resist."

"Kirsk, if you compromised classified information you know I'm gonna have to–"

I raised one hand, typing with the other. "Nothing like that, nothing like that. I think. So I was skimming things and I spotted something wrapped up tight in some mad encryption. Imperial encryption."

I heard his hiss of a breath. "Dorne?"

"Addressed to her, though it's been sitting there eighteen hours and no one's opened it that I could see. I'm not sure she knows it's there yet."

"What's inside? Imp crypto's a specialty of yours, you must know."

"But of course." With a flourish I pulled up a little holo of a blond guy about our age.

"Elara," said the recorded message boy. "It's me, Aleksei. I…I hope you're well. It's been a long time."

"Boyfriend?" Vierce muttered. I shook my head.

"I'm sorry to contact you like this, but I need your help. My men and I…we're as good as dead. We're on Nar Shaddaa – we were caught tampering with one of the Hutts' operations. We never dreamed the slugs would have so much security."

"Poor sods," I muttered. Hutts not only had a lot of it, it was brutal, and anyone with an ounce of sense knew it. "Poor, stupid sods."

"These Hutts are Imperial allies, Elara. There is no rescue team. We'll be disavowed and left to die. Please – you're my only hope now." His image vanished.

Vierce took a minute to process that. "An ex in Imperial spec ops? I didn't even think of that one."

"Not an ex. I did some sniffing. Aleksei Dorne is her younger brother."

"A brother. Huh. You know if they've been talking?"

"I didn't have time to check. You know I don't do politics nowadays, but this seemed important."

"Don't say anything for a minute." I let him think it through. He wasn't immediately flying into a rage, which meant he wouldn't go off on Miss Dorne just yet. "Enemy combatant, related to her, here. That's…not unexpected. Right? We had people with split families back home. Collaborators who had some genetic material in common with human beings. It doesn't…dammit, do you have any idea how hard I've been working to not fly off the handle at her?"

"No, actually," I said, "but recalling your history I can imagine."

"I'm trying to be fair! How am I supposed to be fair with something like this? I should hand the recording upstairs and go clear his whole squad out while they're vulnerable, is what I should do. But her…why would he call her of all people? She's neck-deep in Republic monitoring."

The answer to that should've been obvious even to him. "Things got tight, and she's kin."

"She files reports when she talks to Imperial-sounding shopkeepers. Contact this big is…that's insane."

"Which may be why she didn't even open an Imp-marked message."

"If she's on the level, why not just call someone to review it?"

"Because that request goes through you. Did I mention she's terrified of you?"

He hunched up his shoulders a bit. "She is not."

"Vierce, you just found out she has a brother and your first reaction was 'hey, can I kill him?'"

"That's my first reaction to all Imps."

"Yeah. It's scary."

"I don't see what I can do here. The kindest thing would be to just lock this so she can't access it, pass it upstairs and let them clean it up, because if I do run across his people it's going to be blood."

Vierce logic. "You could try capture," I suggested.

"Since when do I capture Imps?"

"Since you suited up Republic? Think about it. Show up. Heartwarming family reunion. Grab some souvenir POWs. Everybody goes home happy except the Imps. That sounds practically ideal."

"Or show up, trap, get shot at, Blondie and Blondie skip home happy."

That idiot. "I thought she would never try to sneak contact?"

"It isn't sneaking if you shot your way through your CO to do it." He ran his hands through his hair and made a face. "That's ridiculous, I know, so don't say it. It's just hard. Why'd it have to be kin? Remember when you were little and I told you Imps didn't have families, they just came out of evil spawning pools?"

"Yeah. I was very disappointed when I learned the boring truth. But think about this. Maybe it's legit, the kid's desperate, and we can win you a nice little resume buff plus major squad morale points by checking it out. And if they turn it ugly, well, you and I haven't sprung an Imp trap together in a long time. It'll be fun." Gunfights were pretty much my least favorite kind of fun, but Vierce and I had pulled off some real capers back in the day. "But if this guy's for real, he has nowhere else to go. The Empire just shook him off."

"Why would we want them?"

"Because the alternative is executing your squadmate's brother?"

"I can do that, Kirsk. You remember."

Oh, stars. Vierce seemed mellower now than he had been then…the tragic part is, I'm not exaggerating when I say that…but of course he couldn't let go of the insane requirement to Show No Mercy To The Enemy. "Different times, Vierce. A scared kid who just got written off by the only boss he's ever known isn't really the same as a collaborator. This Aleksei guy never had a choice." Make it a question of fairness. Make it a question of anything but The Cause. "You could at least hear what he has to say. And don't forget your own sergeant. If you and I got separated, with no real hope of talking again, and then a chance came up while one of us was in a tight spot, and somebody decided to withhold that chance, would you stand for that?"

"You know there'd be hell to pay," he growled. I knew I had him then. "But unless these guys are miraculously ready to lay down arms, this'll be the mother of all awkward family reunions."

"That's why you an' me will be there. To keep it polite." His eyes flared; I hurried on. "I'm sure you and Sergeant Cannon are good, but you want a security man who knows Imps and knows how to stop you from doing something stupid, and the only person in the galaxy with both those qualifications is me."

He scowled. "You realize I'm only even considering this because it's you asking."

"I know. So, you going to talk to her?"

"Yeah. I'll talk to her."

"Aw. You're mellowing, big brother. This just might work out."

"Do not get warm and fuzzy on me."

"Me? Nah. My only interest here is in looking out for the downtrodden little brothers of scary justice machines."

I gave Vierce a head start leaving; by the time I sauntered into the holo room he was locked up with Miss Dorne in a side room. I wondered if she had any idea how dangerous he was when not handled properly. Then again, she had survived the assignment so far, which was more than I would've bet on when I first heard an Imp was coming to work for Vierce.

Funny thing, her doing so well. They probably got along perfectly on the job; after all, Duty was Duty. Knowing him, he hadn't let himself begin to notice that. If he could drop the drive to hate her they might even get along. …Though, come to think of it, he might run through her sanity before then if he wasn't careful. It would be extremely Vierce to finally get his head on straight the day after he snaps off the last of his sergeant's patience.

I may have been lurking. A little bit. When the door opened Miss Dorne almost ran facefirst into me. She jumped a little instead. "Oh! – I'm sorry. I, the leftenant was just discussing the message you found. I understand I have you to thank for the generous offer your brother made?"

Oh, no way was I taking credit for this one, not when someone else could use it more. "Me?" I drawled. "No, miss. I just spotted the incoming security question. Talking it over with you, looking for a diplomatic solution for your brother, that was all his idea."

Vierce gave me a baffled, not-sure-whether-to-be-mad look that I will treasure for years to come. "Oh," said Miss Dorne, and blinked rapidly a bit while she processed my words. Then she shot one last wide-eyed look at Vierce and edged past me to leave.

"What was that?" demanded Vierce.

Brilliance, that's what that was. I grinned. "You'll thank me later."

"I don't see what…"

"Oh, I know. But you will."

Kirsk is shrewd, except when he's catastrophically not. His skills at short-notice improv are superb, because that's what is needed for him to survive his own planning skills or lack thereof.

The weeks of leave flew by. Good to see the gang on Coruscant, good to see the rest of the old guard back home. I even found myself kind of happy at the thought of going back to meet up with Jorgan, Dorne, and Forex again. Surprising thought, that, but I guess I had already gotten used to having them there. Even Dorne, somehow or other. We rendezvoused back on Coruscant one afternoon and got our stuff stowed on the ship. I was whistling on and off, thinking about nothing in particular, when I left my quarters.

I quit it when I noticed Jorgan and Dorne in the holo room. Jorgan stood there looking at me funny for a few seconds.

"What?" I said.

"It's nothing, sir." Jorgan made to turn away.

"It was a very disturbing nothing, by the look of it."

"You're, uh. You're smiling, sir."

"So? I can do that."

"You don't, Savins."

I frowned. "Sure I do."

"Your facial expressions for as long as I've known you have pretty much been limited to grim and brooding."

"And angry," Dorne pointed out, and immediately looked surprised and somewhat alarmed that she had said it out loud.

Jorgan nodded. "Yeah, angry. And solemn." He looked to Dorne for confirmation.

She nodded a tiny bit. "And glum," she added.

"And irritated."

"And dour."

"And pensive, at times," continued Jorgan.

"And melancholy." Dorne squirmed a little. "Sir."

"And morose."

"You also appear downright despondent at times, sir!" announced M1-4X from the other room.

"Forex!" I yelped. "You stay out of this!"

"Right now for instance," Jorgan said, clearly enjoying every minute of this, "you're right on the indignant with a lingering touch of brooding."

"I can smile, you know," I said peevishly. "When I'm happy."

"If you say so, sir."

"And I was happy to tie up that way less than cheerful mission, and even happier to get some leave after. Hell, I'm even kind of happy to have you people back, or at least I was until you started talking."

"I, too, am delighted to see Havoc Squad reunited for its noble mission, sir!" yelled M1-4X.

"You people. Look, before you started in on me I was going to say I'm hitting the cantina for dinner before we go. You in?"

Jorgan nodded. "I could do that." He looked over. "What about you, Dorne?"

"Oh, no. I need to get the ship in order."

I crossed my arms. No way was she getting off that easy after a stunt like that. "Dorne, if you have the spare time to harass me you have the spare time to go for dinner with the squad after."

She looked at me. She looked at Jorgan. She smiled this tiny shy smile. "Very well, sir," she said. "I'll just be a moment getting ready."

I turned my glare to Jorgan the second she left. "You've got her mouthing off at me. How the hell did you do that?"

"I'm as surprised as you are, Savins. I'm sure she'll be back to her paper-pushing self in no time."

"We're on duty tomorrow," I grumbled, "and things'd better be back to normal."

"That's one thing we don't compromise on. I think we're all ready to get back to work."

"Yeah." We waited for a few seconds more; Dorne was still getting ready. "And I do too smile."

Jorgan sank back into that cool professionalism that he could pour all kinds of knowing malice into when he wanted. "Yes, sir," he disagreed.

M1-4X, how could you!?

I just love the idea of everybody else giving Vierce a hard time. Elara seems to have failed her discretion check because she showed up feeling relaxed and agreeable when Jorgan got started.

Also, of course Vierce has smiled before now; it's just far from his default expression. In fact, in my files so far it has only occurred when he's screwing with Jorgan or Kirsk.

Nalenne started her career light side, but her darker half on Tatooine made a really good sales pitch. She picked up Jaesa Wilsaam Light Side and has been unsure what to do with the saintly revolutionary ever since. They're good friends, though, even after Nalenne maxed out the evil meter. Nalenne lost the remote* to Vette's slave collar, but otherwise those two are on good terms. She and Pierce instantly, mutually friendzoned each other* but get along great. Nalenne is good friends with Broonmark, who is a biochem prodigy and very patient language teacher* as well as an all-around nice guy. To his friends, anyway. The ones who appreciate killing. Okay, maybe he's only nice to Nalenne.

Nalenne married Quinn, but murdered the hell out of him when he turned on her. To her chagrin he showed up back on her ship anyway* after the class line ended. Her efforts to get rid of Ghost-Quinn*...or maybe make up with him?*...or shut him up*...or possibly apologize for killing him*...anyway, her efforts to deal with Ghost-Quinn form the overarching story of NDOW. On the way Nalenne fends off Niselle's attempts to murder her or set her up with some good-looking Sith*; reads comic books*; has a lot of sleepovers with Jaesa*; complains about the work Servants One and Two assign her*; alternately argues and sleeps with* the dark Inquisitor Servant Nine; vigorously denies crushing on Quinn* (though she undeniably crushed him...his windpipe, anyway); comes to blows with the Hero of Tython*; questions why her wedding vows bound Quinn's ghostly self to stick around; considers but rejects contracting the smuggler Nic* to help; does contract the Dark Side Agent Dahlia* to help; gets kind of mad when Niselle steals another boyfriend* (Servant Nine in this case); finally makes up her mind to restore Quinn rather than obliterating him; is greatly surprised when Quinn declines to help the Hand* with their plan to remove her in favor of Servant Nine becoming Wrath; kills Servant Nine dead; and, finally, extracts a ghost solution from Niselle that once again brings her into conflict with the Hero of Tython, Jedi Knight Rho. In the end she succeeds in bringing Quinn back to life.

All of that background is established in the standalone thread. The SFC entries are filed under the Chronicles, most of which are chronologically before NDOW (so during Nalenne's class line or earlier) or after NDOW ends.

As for supporting characters/guest stars:

Nic the smuggler was a rich girl from Alderaan who has a few non-comical SFC stories about her fall from favor and her subsequent hustle into the smuggling business. She has an on-again off-again relationship with the maddeningly possessive Corso; she's too addicted to credits, drugs, fast ships, and good-looking strangers of either gender to be the kind of girl he's after. She briefly appears as a guest in NDOW.

Rho the Jedi Knight is the bestest purest Jedi Knight ever. That's his thing. He has a non-comical story or two, but the rest of the time he is rejecting Kira's romantic advances, lecturing Nalenne and Niselle on the virtues of the Light, trusting Lord Scourge way more than he should, and generally making a holy nuisance of himself.

Dahlia is a maniacal Dark Side Agent. She has no story of her own; she just shows up to kill stuff and giggle with Nalenne from time to time.

In the Chronicles, Nalenne and Niselle do a lot of nothing meaningful for a while. Nalenne quarrels with Quinn's insatiable work ethic and finally kicks him out in favor of sleeping with her brother-in-law Andronikos. Quinn, alive and having nothing else to do, resumes his military career and is quickly placed in charge of reconstituting the legendary Insanity Company*, a collection of some of the most impossibly fervent Imperials in the galaxy. With Lieutenant Rutau, Colonel Hareth*, Captain Pandarr, Sergeant Ritter*, and Ensign Rylon*, he sets about doing all that pro-Empire stuff Nalenne was too lazy to do. When Andronikos wanders off again, Nalenne finds herself out of toys and out of luck.

Then Rho gets going with this story Lord Scourge told* about the Emperor planning to destroy all life in the galaxy. Nalenne and Quinn reunite (along with Insanity Company, of course) to battle the big red lying threat and maybe also sometimes do things that aren't work.

Once upon a time, a girl was born to a proud Mirialan family. Although the family was steeped in a rich tradition of diplomatic and political service and had even produced a few Jedi, when the time came to choose her career, the girl chose the military over the vociferous objections of her family. Sana, for that was her name, excelled in marksmanship and was assigned first to a sniper team and, after her successes there, to increasingly more important positions. She was direct, confident, and thorough. The teams she led respected her, and her superiors respected her results. And so it was that at a young age, she was assigned to the prestigious Havoc Squad, stationed on Ord Mantell. There she met a brusque Cathar by the name of Aric Jorgan. After circumstances intervened, Sana was named CO of Havoc Squad with Jorgan as her one and only squadmate. Over the next few years, the two of them rebuilt Havoc Squad into a respected and effective combat machine with a strong team and an outstanding record. And fell in love.

Fate is a funny thing. Whether driven by the Force or some other power, it can bring people together or rip them apart. Happy though Sana and Aric were, they were unable to have children which is why it was not so odd that when a young woman foisted a Force-sensitive Chiss infant off on Sana in the middle of the busy Senate Plaza on Coruscant that the thought occurred to them that perhaps they should keep her. And so they did. Her name was Esma.

Being a Force-sensitive Chiss is odd enough, but being a Force-sensitive Chiss in the Republic could be used as the definition of outsider. Luckily for the adorable little blue girl, she was raised with people who knew very well what it was to be an outsider. Her childhood in the unconventional embrace of Havoc Squad provided Esma with a bedrock-solid foundation of love and support. Those who were prejuidiced against her because of her species soon found that they had wronged a very intelligent, capable, and kind woman - one with friends. Esma's connection to the Force was exceptionally strong, and once she started her training in the Jedi Order, she excelled quickly, becoming a Jedi Knight.

Nothing in her training, however, could have prepared her for the challenges that lay ahead. Coming into direct conflict with the ancient and powerful Sith Emperor, Esma first fell to his influence and then threw off his chains with the help of the Emperor's Wrath, Lord Scourge. She emerged from the incident shaken and damaged but alive and with her own mind. Taking refuge in the easy embrace of her medic - Doc - she began to heal. Their love was a shallow thing, however, born of circumstance rather than any sort of true compatibility, and when they ended their relationship Esma knew in her heart that it was the right thing to do. The emotions she had had for Doc paled in comparison to those that were growing for a very unlikely person - the ancient Sith Lord who roamed her ship.

Cursed with an inability to feel in exchange for an unnaturally long life, Lord Scourge found himself drawn to the Jedi, and she to him. Although he warned her against trusting him, Esma followed her instincts, slowly breaking down Scourge's barriers till his senses began to return. However, along with his senses came debilitating pain, prompting Scourge to consider ending his long life once and for all. Faced with the prospect of Scourge's death, Esma took a risk and managed to shield him from the pain that racked his body - a shield of Light side energy that, over time, would slowly be eaten away by the Dark Force that sustained him and would need regular strengthening.

Free from his pain, but with his senses, Scourge was now free to claim Esma for his own. The two of them kept their relationship a secret for some time, telling only the crew and her parents, neither of whom were pleased with the pairing. This continued until an unbalanced Jedi named Bengel Morr discovered them and revealed their relationship to the Jedi Council. After long deliberations and assurances of Esma's continued connection to the Light side of the Force, the Council permitted Esma to remain a Jedi, even with Scourge, although with grave misgivings.

Esma had never been so happy. She had her love, her adoptive family, her calling. She had everything, except knowledge of where she came from. So when her mother called one day and let her know that she thought she had found a blood sister of hers, it was the icing on the cake. The reunion was more tense than she'd expected though...

Askari Magrave had not had an easy life. When her mother had given birth to a second child, the family had rejoiced. Their joy was soon tempered however, when it was discovered that the little girl was Force-sensitive. Faced with the prospect of giving over their daughter to the Sith, Skari's parents undertook a harrowing journey, hoping to gain refuge in the Republic. They were caught by Imperial agents on Nar Shaddaa, however, and killed. The smuggler who was to transport them was able to find the baby, but Skari was left behind, alone, thinking that her entire family had been killed. Growing up hard and fast on the streets of Nar Shaddaa, she quickly learned to protect herself and found that she had an aptitude for blasters...and killing. Becoming a bounty hunter who would take any job was a quick way to get credits.

A lucky meeting with a man named Braden opened up the chance for her to partcipate in the Great Hunt, an opportunity she took on with determination, eventually winning and being made a Mandalorian. Slowly, she acquired a crew of misfits: a slicer turned medic, an opportunistic con man, a Mandalorian obsessed with restoring his family's honor, and an adorable little Jawa with a penchant for rocket launchers. Skari tried to keep herself apart from her crew, telling herself that it was for the best, but the odd little ragtag bunch became a second family to her. And she came to realize that the honor she had so willingly let go when fighting to survive was a precious thing.

When a contact in the Republic military mentioned how much she looked like her adopted daughter, Skari refused to believe it at first. She and Major Sana Kaarde had developed an odd little friendship. Having little use for the Empire, especially the Sith. other than as a source of income, Skari had grown to respect the Havoc Squad commander on the rare occasion they had encountered each other. That fate would have brought her sister back to her in such a way was odd, but the Force was a mysterious thing. Skari and Esma's first meeting was tense as each tried to gauge who the other was. Without a common childhood, they were meeting as strangers. While they slowly built a relationship, Skari continued to work on righting the wrongs she had done as a young woman, searching out the worst of her old employers in a bid for justice.

The man who had ordered the hit on the last victim on her list remained elusive however. So when the extremely dangerous brother of her last victim tracked her down to gain revenge for his brother, she took the opportunity to join forces to hunt down the man responsible. This began a game of cat and mouse between the two, as Solomon Crae decided whether or not to kill her.

Solomon Crae and his brother Malek had grown up as orphans. Solomon had protected his brother, even to the point of sabotaging his brother's career in the SIS in order to force him into a safer accounting job. Unfortunately his plans backfired and Malek uncovered a senator's spice addiction, which eventually brought Skari to his door. Off hunting bounties in the wild Tabrel Sector, Crae did not learn of his brother's death until years later. When he did, he began to track down those responsible.

Crae was not what anyone would call a normal man. Verging on the psychotic in his approach to people and hunting, he was unpredictable and extremely dangerous. His partnership with Skari was tense. He eventually began to enjoy her presence, appreciating her protective nature towards her crew and her deep passion and fire which had allowed her to survive so long in a dangerous world. And then he fell in love. Crae in love was no less disturbing, although he was compelling. Skari found herself drawn to the killer, eventually throwing caution to the wind and allowing herself to fall headlong into love.

Taking it upon himself to protect Skari, even from herself, Crae concocted a plan to force her to stay out of dangerous situations by holding her crew hostage. His plan worked, although it broke Skari's will, ripping into all her old wounds and fears about losing those she loved. Seeing the damage he had done to her, Crae freed her crew and left, taking up hunting child predators on Nar Shaddaa as a way to atone for his actions. In the fallout of Crae's plot, Skari became convinced that she had no business putting the people she loved in danger and bolted, leaving her crew with no idea of where she was. Determined to find her friend, Mako approached Crae in desperation and convinced him to use his tracking skills to find the missing bounty hunter.

Having found some humanity, Crae was determined to make Skari see that she needed to be with her family. He tracked her down and, in his own bizarre way, convinced her to return to her crew. Skari confronted Crae on his own fear of hurting the people he loved, admiting that she couldn't stop loving him regardless of how stupid it was. And the two of them stopped running from each other. Crae, a changed man, became an excellent (albeit non-conventional and very protective) husband and father to their twins and the adopted daughter he first encountered in his stay on Nar Shaddaa.

Quick witted and possessed of a fiery spirit which first reminded her adopted father of Skari, Fionnai was a rose-colored Twi'lek who had grown up on the dangerous streets of Nar Shaddaa. After her adoption by Solomon and Skari, Fionnai learned all she could from the crew, becoming a decent slicer, an okay mechanic, and an excellent smuggler. Eventually, she joined the smuggling operation run by her Uncle Gault, along with Mako and her fiance. Her first solo run? A gun shipment to Ord Mantell.

In another part of the galaxy, a young cousin of Sana's had joined in the Jedi. Although she made the family very proud, Jese respected the older cousin she'd often seen sitting quietly on the edges of family functions. So when the opportunity to help in a combat situation came to the young researcher, she took it. Calling on her early training in diplomacy and poltics as well as her healing skills on the battlefield, Jese was able to bring the Rift Alliance into the Republic. She also met Lt. Felix Iresso, a good-hearted and stubborn soldier. The two have fallen in love, and their relationship has been okayed by the Jedi Council, but they've recently run into some problems with a certain holocron.

In Ninety Seven Percent, Malavai Quinn suffers from PTSD after being beaten to near-death by the Emperor’s Wrath, Lord Syla. Adding super insult to brutal injuries, Syla dumps him in a hangar on Balmorra. After three months in a Kolto tank, Quinn is released into the wilds of Balmorra to languish in career hell for the rest of his days. Luckily for him, he is picked up by Major Ovech within weeks. Unluckily for him, Syla shows up looking for a replacement for him. Pierce had been running the ship in the interim and things were slowly going to hell in a handbasket. Because fate really hates Quinn (and parts of Fino do as well, it seems), Quinn encounters Syla during her Meet and Greet with Ovech. He very nearly has a heart attack as he flashes back to the Transponder Station. Foolishly determined to prove his worth and redeem himself, he rejoins Syla’s crew. His first few weeks back are pure hell. He makes it his task to speak with the crew on an individual basis. He first speaks to Pierce who is oddly knowledgeable about Quinn having a keyword. He then attempts to speak with Jaesa who is oddly icy. Jaesa’s iciness later gives way as she finds Quinn suffers from nightmares from which he cannot wake himself. Things take a strange turn when the pair head to Tatooine to speak with Quinn’s dying grandfather, Barnabus Quinn.

During his time on Tatooine, Quinn rediscovers himself. He was purposely kept unaware of the shattering of self, but manages to piece himself together again. After spending what felt like years on Tatooine, Jaesa and Quinn head to Hoth to find a lead on Quinn’s freshly revealed past. A Chiss named Cerrill awaits with questions and answers and an impossibly sharp set of knives.

All her life Ennaly had been preparing for the day she would go to Tython and become a jedi knight. Her best friend was a red twi’lek from the moisture farm that bordered theirs. She got into a lot of trouble, including getting lost in a cave for two days when she was six. She was devastated when her father died when she was ten, and at sixteen, she ran away from home. She was adopted by a group of smugglers and three years later lost her new family to a pirate attack. She is fiercely protective of her new crew and is mortified by the possibility that they will realize she has no idea what she’s doing. She is in a relationship with Corso Riggs, and is loyal for this reason. “He is the first humanoid male that has shown any interest for me as something more than a friend and I will not let anyone near him… especially you Ensinlli.”

Ensinlli has had a competition with her twin for as long as she can remember. She managed to steal every guy that started to show interest in her sister. She was very close to her older sister Tameery which excluded her sister from most of the family activities. Despite this, she loves her twin and will always be there for her. Her goal is to be the greatest jedi there ever was.

Etonya was from a small family on Tatooine. She has no siblings, but was very close to Ennaly who lived on the moisture farm next to her family’s. When she was twelve slave traders attacked her home, and took her and her parents. She is force sensitive and her master found out and secretly trained her until the dark council found out, and sent her to Korriban. She is a homicidal psychotic maniac who will kill anything that stands in her general area. She does miss her friend though, and wonders what happened to her.

Perrina was born to a prestigious family that incurred the wrath of Lord Etonya. The crazy sith killed her entire family but would not kill a baby. She was adopted and raised among murderers but is actually very nice. Her current goals are to escape her employer and convince her mother that killing everything is not always the best answer.