@YoshiRalphElan: Padawan Fia! I liked how she was so eager, so pleased and surprised to be on Tython. In one of her dialogue options she tells you she was scared of Master Till’in when she first met him. I’m happy to see her make Knight and then be chosen to go on an important mission.

@Alaurin: Sad face, still trying to avoid JK spoilers but it’s getting hard. Sorry for the cliffhanger, but Vashutarl will find out what’s going on soon enough.

@DarthSillyMonkey: That quest with Flingeld always irritated me a bit. I always felt a little guilty, like it was my character’s fault he washed out. I love how you brought him forward, still having not learned the lesson. The details were great. I liked how you showed in the beginning that things would end badly then told the rest in flashback. It’s a narrative technique I don’t like much (in fact, it was so overused in recent years I usually hate it because in most cases it added nothing to the story) but it works in this case. The reader focuses on Flingeld making all the wrong decisions instead of the mystery of what was going on, which was exactly what you wanted. And great use of Temple and Fenn’rys too.

@Marissalf: The sensation of Mel saying goodbye to everyone was done well. No one wants her to go, but no one’s going to stop her, either. You might not be happy with it, but I think the emotions came through well from all the characters. Mel’s taking a big leap, facing her fears and trying to forge a new path.

@Phyreblade: Like so many others, the Grathans just get left behind. Clever Jessa, realizing that cultivating allies among the non-Force-sensitive population was as important to her success as cowing the other apprentices. She is truly Quinn’s daughter. I know you labeled the last one for Xenobiology, but it works for ‘where are they now’ as well. As in: does the Pierce fling happen and then what?

And of course, @Bright: Perfect bookend. I always like Wynston stories, and this one felt like a snapshot into a pretty normal op for both. And your last line: “Let’s skip town.” I will definitely miss you here, but look forward to your setup in the new town. See you on Tumblr!

Tia had escaped her captors and was dealing with Ekaterina when Kat and Mako arrived. Ekaterina dropped a couple of bombshells on the sisters before dying. Kat filled Tia in on Balkar and Jorgan's plan to forcibly extract her and she didn't take it very well. Balkar contacted Kat asking for an update and felt some of Tia's wrath. He explained that Val, Corso, Jorgan, and Dorne were headed into Shadow Town to take out M1-4X. Tia knew a weakness they could exploit and raced to assist while Kat and Mako downloaded the files from the warehouse before destroying the records.

Val, Corso, Aric, and Elara were fighting their way into Shadow Town when Val’s Holo went off. As soon as the last Prison guard in the group was dispatched, she answered and Jonas’ image appeared.

“Agent Balkar,” Val called out, the others coming closer, “You have news?”

“I do,” Jonas nodded, seeing the rest of the group, “Tia’s tracker finally appeared and she’s in the Industrial Sector. I contacted her sister first since she was closest and Kat’s on her way to the warehouse now.”

“Does she need backup?” Aric asked, conflicted by the need to complete their primary mission and the desire to see Tia safe.

“She said she’d contact me once she scoped out the place,” Jonas told them, “so for now, just keep your Holos handy. Jorgan, my people are en route to give you support, but you need to hurry. I have no idea how long it takes to charge that wardroid up.”

“We’re more than halfway to the charging station now,” Aric informed the agent, “Sergeant Dorne and I will head in as soon as we get there. With luck, it won’t be fully charged yet.”

“Corso and I will back him up as soon as we finish with Lazhae,” Val volunteered, “In fact, I see the doorway to his lab in the diatance.”

“I’ll contact you as soon as I hear from Kat,” Jonas assured them, “Good luck…..all of you!”

Val disconnected and turned to Aric and Elara, “Do you need us to come with you first? I doubt that Lazhae guy is going anywhere.”

“Thanks, Val, but I have no idea what we’re facing in there,” Aric declined, “and I don’t want to put civs in danger……especially when they’re friends.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Val shrugged as they continued, “but since we’ll get to the lab first, Corso and I’ll head in to speak with Lazhae while you and Elara continue on. It shouldn’t take too long, then we’ll head in to the charging station to back you up.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Aric agreed.

Less than half an hour later, they were at Lazhae’s lab and Val and Corso broke off from the other two, “Good luck in there……” Elara called out.

“Eh, luck’s overrated these days,” Val grinned as she stood closer to Corso and activated her stealth generator, “See you soon.”

Val and Corso entered the lab under stealth and immediately encountered some sort of modified beasts. The creatures had some sort of aura that drained their very energy in close proximity, making them feel tired and sluggish. As a result, the beasts were harder to kill until Corso drew them to him and Val picked them off from a distance. It was slower fighting since her shotgun was better at close range, but they managed to take out the beasts eventually and continued on further into the lab once the fatigue passed. They located the deranged scientist in a small room at the back of the lab. He was standing next to a holding cell containing a young woman who looked like a very ill Momi Andrel.

“Captain,” Corso spoke up as they approached and got a better look at Momi, “She’s been tortured…..”

“Are you Lazhae?” Val asked, blaster charged and aimed at his head.

“I am,” he answered, slowly backing up, “Can….can I help you?”

“Oh, I don’t want your help,” Val snapped, disgusted with the man. She might not have liked Momi and her cause that well, but no one deserved whatever that sick scientist had done to her, “I came here for Drooga’s shanjaru……however, I’m going to politely insist that you let the girl go as well.”

“Now, now, no need for things to get ugly……I’ve gotten all the genetic samples I need from this marvelous creature,” Lazhae replied, his voice a little shaky as he stared at the blaster barrel pointed at his face, “This cage has a lift and I’ll send it back to Drooga right now!”

“But Drooga’s going to eat it!” Momi shrieked.

“So?” Val shrugged.

“It’s the last of the species!”

“You seriously need to get over that……you’ve got bigger problems from the looks of it!” Val snapped, “Besides, Lazhae just said he got genetic samples…….”

“He’s using those samples to make horrible monsters!” Momi called out, her voice hoarse.

“Those things we encountered on the way in?”

“Yes,” Lazhae proudly answered, “My smart beasts……although I suppose I need to create some more now.”

“Please, don’t let him do that,” Momi sobbed, “They’re an abomination!”

“For once, we agree,” Val nodded, “What’s he done to you anyways?”

“He lured me here……had me help him get the shanjaru…..said he would help me save the species,” Momi explained, “It was a lie…..he didn’t want to save the species, he wanted their DNA to create those monsters.”

“They’re not monsters!” Lazhae protested.

“They are!” Momi shrieked, “and so are you!” The young woman turned to Val and Corso, “He experimented on me…..injected me with all sorts of diseases. Awful ones, painful ones……some other project he’s working on.”

“What is it with you scientist types lately?!” Val narrowed her blue grey eyes in disgust at the scientist, “You know….you’re not even worth the effort to kick you in the balls,” She brought up her charged blaster and shot him in the face.

“Thank you…..he….he deserved to die,” Momi sobbed, “Can you take his samples to Coruscant? There’s someone there that can use them to clone the shanjaru and save the species.”

“Why can’t you do that?”

“Because I’m dying……I won’t make it,” she replied, “Now, kill me……please. The pain is more than I can stand.”

Val rolled her eyes as she opened the cell, “I’m not going to kill you……there are doctors on Nar Shaddaa you know.”

“But some of the diseases he injected me with are incurable,” Momi sobbed.

“Your father has money,” Val snorted, “I’m sure he’ll make sure his little princess is cured.”

“Captain…..” Corso began, feeling sorry for the young woman.

“Don’t ‘Captain’ me Corso……I do NOT feel sorry for her!” Val retorted, “She got herself into this mess because she was so worried about some stupid animal and her cause that she didn’t even bother find out who she was dealing with! She needs to learn a few things about how the galaxy really works instead of taking up random causes and trying to play martyr.”

“We should at least help her get out of here safely,” Corso insisted.

“I planned on it,” Val called out as she walked over to Lazhae’s specimen cooler. She grabbed the samples labeled ‘shanjaru’, placed them into a bio canister, and stuffed it in her backpack before turning her attention to the computer terminal, “We’ll escort her to the taxi station, but first I’m going to wipe out all that sick freak’s data on his nasty experiments, then I’m going to blow that cooler.”

“What about the other thing we were going to help with before leaving Shadow Town?” Corso asked.

“She’ll just have to come with us,” Val sighed as she sliced into Lazhae’s data files and began deleting them, “Do you mind sending Risha a message that Drooga’s female shanjaru is on its way to him now.”

Corso did as asked, then he set some charges on the cooler. Val finished deleting Lazhae’s files and Corso helped Momi stand, letting her lean on him. Then the three of them left the lab, Val turning back to fire off a shot at the charges Corso set and the cooler blew as they exited the lab.

There were no Imperials in sight as the group made their way to the charging station and they spotted a familiar figure at the entrance as they rounded the corner.

“Agent Balkar,” Val called out.

“Captain Tarenz,” Jonas turned around, gesturing for the rest of the men to head in, “Have you heard from Kat or Tia?”

“No…..why?”

“Kat got to Tia, but she’d already taken care of her kidnappers,” Jonas explained, “but apparently Kat let Tia in on our kidnapping plan and I haven’t been able to contact Jorgan since I warned him she was on her way.”

“You mean your kidnapping plan,” Val raised a slender brow at the agent as she crossed her arms defiantly, “That was yours and Jorgan’s baby……I had nothing to do with it.”

“Fine,” Jonas relented, “My plan……anyway, Tia wasn’t exactly happy about it. She was headed down here to help with the mission though.”

“Oh, I’ll bet that’s going to be an interesting confrontation,” Val grinned, knowing what Tia’s temper was like.

“Maybe we should get in there,” Corso suggested.

“Let’s go,” Jonas nodded as shouts came from inside.

“Drop your weapon and put your hands in the air!”

“Grenade……take cover!”

The sounds of blaster fire accompanied the second shout. Corso and Jonas raced in, weapons drawn, Val following as fast as she was able while supporting Momi. They passed three soldiers in the corridor leading to the charging station, all taken out by stun shots. The air was heavy with smoke when they arrived on the scene. After it began to clear a moment later, they saw six unconscious figures on the ground, two of which belonged to Sergeant Dorne and Captain Jorgan. Two soldiers were left standing.

“Report,” Jonas requested having a good idea who was responsible for the damage.

“The three guards and Sergeant Dorne were unconscious when we came in, Agent Balkar,” one of the soldiers answered, “A woman was holding Captain Jorgan hostage with a blaster pistol, she threw a grenade at us, then started shooting.”

“What did this woman look like?” Jonas asked as Val snickered behind him before kneeling down to look Jorgan over.

“She was a young Cathar, silver fur and wearing an evening dress, sir,” the other soldier muttered, too embarrassed to look the agent in the eye.

“It’s alright, Corporal,” Jonas assured the man, “You’re not the first she’s gotten the better of and I doubt you’ll be the last.”

“Looks like she took it easy on him this time,” Val grinned, “nothing’s broken.”

@YoshiRaphElan: Nice little bit regarding Fia. I liked her as well, though I think I got more of a kick out of how her Master spoke of her.

@BrightEphemera: A lovely little send-off story, and I like the ending and its unfortunate parallels with reality. I haven't been reading forum fic for long, but already your name was one I saw a lot of. I'm sure it will be sorely missed.

@Alaurin: Nice few pieces about Doc. I read the Letters one and the follow-up and oth showed an intriguing point of view when it comes to the character. I have heard he's a bit... overbearing with his filrting, and this was an intriguing take. I'll have to follow up on your continuing story next round!

@DarthSillyMonkey: Flingeld! An interesting next look. There are reasons why Jedi are tested, especially when it comes to patience. Nice twist at the end too!

@Marissalf: Wow. So she's decided to go forward then and not fight. There's a kind of strength in that... her choice, her control. I feel so bad for Gault. I wonder how he'll feel when she gets back, and what shape she'll be in!

@Phyreblade: That little punk got hers, apparently! Sith boasting about bloodlines was always one of the things that irritated me. Good for her to put the fear into the little brat. Your second story was completely adorable too... I love the dynamic between all the companions!

Soft footfalls met his ears, and though he was trying to meditate, he looked up in curiosity to see who it was. The morning sunlight lit the room with a soft glow, and he blinked his eyes awkwardly. They had been closed a long time. Meditation took a long time.

Everything here took a long time. He had first to learn something called "patience" and then things would not seem to take so long.

His broad face broke into a grin as his eyes focused on the elder man. Master had come to see him. Many of the Jedi were nice to him. Many more of the Jedi were afraid of him. Some were angry at him. He did not like those Jedi so much. Master was his favorite Jedi though. Master was the one who said he should learn "patience" and taught him to meditate.

Master looked different than the other Jedi. He was not of human-flesh. He was not of head-thing-flesh. He was covered in fur, with a low, patient voice and large, soft eyes that saw everything that moved before him. Master was not as broad and strong as he was, but master was tall and quick, and wise. Master was a hunter.

"Good morning, Master Quilb." His mouth did not make the words well, his voice had a growl when he spoke, but he was learning. Master would understand his words. Master tried very hard to learn to say his name as he did, and seeing Master struggle to learn the same things he was learning was good. Master understood.

"Good morning to you, Fashk. I am sorry to disturb your meditation, but I wished to speak with you."

Master wanted to speak again? "Learn more Jedi-talk? No more rock-hunt?"

"No, this is something a little more serious." Master's words were kind, but he could smell worry in the words, could feel a small fear in the air. Master knelt down in front of him, facing him, so they were sitting alike and equal, though Master's head was higher. Master understood much.

"You have been here for many weeks now, and are showing much progress since you first asked for our help. Now, it seems, I must ask for yours." Fashk was surprised. Master wanted his help?

He nodded. "Help Jedi. Help Master!"

Master seemed pleased at this, or at least encouraged. "I am happy to hear that, Fashk. This may be a surprise to you, but you see, you are not the first of your kind to come to the Jedi Temple."

His eyes widened. "Others hunt Jedi Temple?"

"Not... exactly." Master put much thought into his words. "Not long before you came to us, another Jedi brought a youngling to us. He found the baby at an old Jedi ruin. The mother had been killed, and the baby was all alone. He brought the child here so it would not die."

He frowned. What had happened to the mother? "Dead?" The Jedi had long fought his people. He could feel the anger, the urge to hunt, rising within him. "Jedi hunt! Jedi kill! Hssst!"

"Peace, Fashk... the Jedi did not kill the mother." Master grew wary, chose his words very carefully. "Machines within the ruin were harming all people who went there. Remember that it was a Jedi who saved the baby's life."

He frowned. Trust did not come easily, and the anger did not go away easily either. "What Jedi?" he challenged with a loud voice.

"You remember Caylenn, the Jedi who helped you? He was the one who brought the baby to us. He was just a Padawan then."

"Red Jedi hunt?" He remembered the strange red-haired man, the way he had looked at Fashk even though his eyes were covered. It was this Jedi who had secured him a place here at the Temple with Master. He felt the calm coming back, and nodded. "Red Jedi peace."

"I'm glad you remember. Already you are learning patience, and I am learning more about you and your kind."

Master put his large, heavy, soft hand on Fashk's shoulder. "The Council has decided to raise the youngling here. We don't know if he can feel the Force, but he will need caring for regardless. I would like to bring him up to know peace, but not to forget who he is." He looked seriously at Fashk. "We can both learn from him, if you will help me. You can learn patience, and I can learn more about your people."

Fashk frowned for a moment, thinking about this. He had had to fight to earn his place here. The little one would have what he struggled for, only without effort. This troubled him. However, if the child was sent back, he would be killed, or possibly grow to kill others... even other Jedi. This was bad.

Eventually, Fashk looked up and nodded. "Yes. Help Jedi. Help small one hunt peace!"

Master Quilb smiled. "Thank you, Fashk."

"Hssst! Now Jedi help?" Fashk grinned. "Help rock-hunt?"

Master Quilb stood. "Perhaps later we'll work more on Force-lifting. I know you like the exercise. For now, I suggest you go back to your hunt for Patience. We will both be needing a lot of it very soon..."

Prudii and the rest of Havoc Squad were doing a tenure on the Republic warship Victorious, and they hadn't managed to secure adjoining bunks, so they were scattered throughout the ship with unfamiliar roommates. Prudii's just happened to be someone he'd met before. Unfortunately, it was also someone he disliked.

Lieutenant Bendick had served on Ord Mantell at the same time as Prudii. Bendick's superior, Milo Phipps, had requested that Prudii rescue a pirate named Veem Set from a separatist prison, and had Bendick give him the specifics. Bendick had informed Prudii that Set had been involved in the deaths of some of Bendick's family, and that he wanted Prudii to execute the pirate. Prudii, thinking of the Republic over petty revenge or credits, had refused. He hadn't seen Bendick since.

Luckily, Prudii and Bendick worked opposite shifts, so when Prudii was working Bendick was sleeping, and vice versa. So far, they'd had the good fortune not to encounter each other. That changed one day, when Prudii awakened and began to dress for his shift. He was pulling on his boots when Bendick walked in the door. He saw Prudii, shut the door, and wordlessly began to strip off his uniform.

"It's customary to salute a superior officer when entering a room," Prudii noted. He wasn't usually a stickler for rules like that, but he really wanted to give Bendick's attitude a beating.

Bendick rolled his eyes, snapped off a half-hearted salute, and continued undressing.

"Not much enthusiasm in that salute," Prudii noted.

"Why should there be when I don't respect the officer I'm saluting?" Bendick replied snidely.

Prudii shot to his feet and crossed the room to Bendick. The man, dressed only in his on-duty slacks and boots, jerked back reflexively, dropping into a combat stance. Prudii smacked his fists aside and shook his head in disgust, turning away from Bendick.

"I did what I did for the good of the Republic," Prudii said. "You were in it for pure, selfish revenge. Weren't you, Bennie?"

Bendick snarled. "Because of you not killing Set, I tried to do it myself. Got caught. Demoted me to sergeant; I was lucky. It took me this long to get back up to my previous rank. Hope you're proud of yourself; pirate gets to go free and I get demoted for trying to bring justice to the galaxy."

"If you're going to keep whining, don't."

Prudii walked over to his footlocker to retrieve his sidearm. Bendick, wordlessly, finished undressing and flopped into bed. Prudii was half-standing when the ship's alarms blared. Bendick rolled out of bed in an instant, alert, and Prudii froze, listening intently.

"All hands to battle stations!" the deck officer called over the intercom. "We're under attack by an Imperial Interdictor!" And then, an instant later, "Boarding pods launched! Prepare to repel boarders!"

Prudii shoved the sidearm aside and grabbed his rifle instead. Bendick was completely redressed now, and he had his own weapon out of his locker. All argument forgotten, the two soldiers worked together professionally. Prudii put his earbud comlink in and switched it on.

"Major Prudii to Captain Jorgan," he said. "Do you read?"

"I read you, sir. I'm up and running."

"Roger that. Rally the squad; we'll meet in the armory and prepare to repel the attackers."

"I read you, Boss."

Prudii shut the comlink off but put it on standby so he could receive calls at a moment's notice. Bendick stacked the door, waiting for Prudii's command. Prudii moved to the other side of the door, rifle raised, and nodded. Bendick hit the command panel, and the door slid open. Bendick and Prudii spun into the corridor as one, rifles raised. There was no sign of Imperial attack. Moving down the corridor together, they grimly prepared for a fight.

They encountered the first attackers a moment later as a trio of Imperial soldiers rounded a corner. They spotted Prudii and Bendick and opened fire. Prudii bumped Bendick out of the way of the fire, taking it on his more armored uniform. He grunted and dropped to his knee, returning fire. His shot caught the lead Imperial in the chest, dropping him. His second shot killed the left soldier. Bendick dropped the one on the right.

"Thanks, sir," Bendick said grudgingly.

They reached a cross corridor, where a heated battle was taking place between Republic Marines and Imperial boarders. Vibroblades and blaster pistols cut down soldiers with equal efficiency. Prudii shot an Imperial soldier in the back as he nearly stabbed a wounded marine. The Imperial's squadmates turned, only to be cut down in a crossfire between Bendick and a pair of Republic troops across the corridor.

"Rally in the armory," Prudii commanded tersely.

The marines nodded and began fighting through the remaining Imperials in the area. Soon, they reached the armory. The rest of Havoc Squad had already arrived, along with a dozen or so other marines. Prudii slung his rifle over his shoulder and stepped toward Jorgan.

"Sitrep, Captain."

"We're down three soldiers from my wing," Jorgan said. "Other than that, we rallied surprisingly fast against the Imps."

Prudii nodded. "Good. Now, let's push them off this ship while the gunners get us free from the Interdictor. We'll need to split up. Jorgan, you, Bendick, and I will head for the gunnery stations to make sure the Imps don't capture or disable them. Tanno, you and Forex blow off the boarding pods. Elara, take half the marines and guard the engines; Yuun, take the other half and guard the shield generator."

The troopers quickly moved off to their assignments. Prudii led Jorgan and Bendick down the hall to the turbolift leading to the gunnery stations. They stepped onto the lift and there was a terse silence as they prepared for combat. Bendick charged his rifle, glancing nervously at Prudii.

"Sorry, sir," he said quietly. "Maybe I was wrong about you."

Prudii nodded. "You're not so bad either, Bennie."

Bendick winced. "Don't call me that."

Prudii chuckled. "Sure."

They entered the gunnery stations and were surprised to find Imps waiting for them immediately off the lift. Alarmed, Prudii snapped up his rifle and cut them down. A blaster bolt shaved past his shoulder and he winced at the heat. Sighing as the last Imp dropped, he led Jorgan and Bendick into the first gunnery station. They quickly cleared it out, and the one after that.

In the third station, they had to stop for Prudii to rewire an automated turbolaser the boarders had disabled. Jorgan moved on ahead to make sure they were clear. No one noticed when the door behind them slid open, letting an Imperial operative sneak in. He pulled a vibroknife from his belt and aimed it squarely at Prudii's back. At the last moment, Bendick heard the slight breeze of the knife passing through the air. Alarmed, he shoved Prudii out of the way.

Prudii hit the ground with a thud. He groaned and was about to ask Bendick what the kriff he was doing...when he saw the vibroknife protruding from the man's ribs. Instantly, Prudii grabbed the rifle he'd dropped and rolled to his feet. He immediately went to Bendick's side.

"Jorgan!" he called.

The Cathar rushed back into the room and saw the operative trying to make a getaway. Jorgan fired a single shot, a bolt searing through the operative's back. The Imperial dropped, dead. Prudii, meanwhile, frantically tried to resuscitate Bendick.

"Gah...guess we're...even," Bendick managed with a grunt.

"Don't you die on me, blast it!"

Even as Prudii said that, the Victorious jumped to hyperspace. He tried to stanch the bleeding from Bendick's chest, but it did not help.

"He's gone, sir," Jorgan said.

"Blast it."

@DarthSillyMonkey: Loved reading this one! Really good work. I kinda wondered what happened to that kid.

@TrystanLaryssa: Oh! A FLESHraider ba-by! (that guy makes me laugh every time I do that quest) It makes sense that the two flesh raiders in the temple would meet soon. Especially since the Jedi you hand the baby off to probably doesn't really know how to care for a baby fleshraider.

@Yoshi: At least they finally reconciled their differences before they died.

@Striges@Yoshi I think my trooper picked light side on this one, and my smug did dark side. But I was sorely tempted to do dark side on both. Seriously, pirate dude. You're getting a pardon and we're busting you out of prison. The least you can do is shut up.

Feyte stopped in front of the little house. She could have taken a speeder, but the Master’s Retreat was close by, and she loved walking through Tython’s forests, especially now that the flesh raider attacks had died down. She smoothed her cream and brown robes and took a deep breath. What would she say? She knocked.

“Coming!” called a voice from inside, soft and reedy. After a moment, the door opened.

Yuon Parr looked frailer than Feyte remembered, her frame thinner, her eyes larger, her reddish-brown hair faded and streaked with grey. For a moment, she looked confused and Feyte’s heart sank. Had the healing technique worn off? But recognition flickered in her eyes and her expression brightened. “Padawan!” she said, in the same startled but pleased voice she had always used when Feyte had surprised her out of a holocron or ancient manuscript.

Tears sprang to Feyte’s eyes. “Hello, Master Yuon. How are you? I’m so, so, sorry I haven’t come sooner. The healers have been keeping me updated, but that’s not an excuse.”

“It’s alright, padawan. Thank you for coming.” Feyte embraced the older woman, burying her face in her shoulder. “But what have you been doing? How is Qyzen?”

Feyte pulled away. “He wanted to come too, but something came up that needed his attention. He sends his greetings and says he’ll come next time.” Republic troops had needed some help mopping up the forces on Corillia, and Qyzen and Felix had returned to assist them.

Yuon nodded. “Why don’t you come in? Would you like some tea?”

Feyte entered. The house was small but comfortable funished, with shelves of books and holodisks lining the walls of a small living area. A kitchenette stood next to a table and two chairs, under some stairs that she guessed led to a sleeping loft. “I would love some. Are you sure you don’t want me to make it?”

“No, sit down. You must be tired, walking all the way up here.”

“It’s not far, I took a speeder from the Academy, so it wasn’t far.”

“The academy?”

“I left my padawan there to practice with some of the other students.”

“You should have brought her. I would have loved to meet her.” There was a twinkle in Yuon’s eye.

“I thought about it, but it will do her good to spend time with people her own age for a while. We’ve been going pretty hard for the last few months.”

“How have you been doing? The padawan that brings me my meals doesn’t usually know much, and I don’t use the holonet much.”

Where to start? Memories flashed through Feyte’s head: Lord Vivicar’s malevolent presence just feet from her, the pride of her appointment to Jedi Master, Nadia’s heartbroken sobbing over her father’s body, Felix’s arms around her, the revelation of Master Syo Bakarn’s identity like a lightsaber in the gut. “Why don’t you sit down? It’s a long story.”

I always found it strange that we never see or hear from Yuon after the end of act 1, except for a letter or two. I guess the real-world explanation is that since you have the chance to kill her, she can't be important later, but I wish we could have at least visited or something.

My headcannon is that Yuon's condition was too delicate for Feyte to go see her for a while, and then after that she was too involved with the Rift Alliance and the Children of the Emperor to get away on what was essentially a personal visit. Her friend (the Jedi Knight) disappearing for months would be kind of distracting too.

@Mirdthestrill, Feyte certainly would have quite a story to tell after all that time away. It’s good that they had the chance to catch up.

@Yoshi, Ah, I didn’t expect things to turn out that way with Prudii and Bendick. I like that they were able to coming to a grudging respect before the end.

@TrystanLaryssa, You chose a great character for this prompt. I haven’t gotten far enough into the Jedi classes to know if the fleshraider you can send to the temple is ever revisited, so I like seeing your take on it. It warms my heart to see that he's making progress there.

@alaurin,

“You know….you’re not even worth the effort to kick you in the balls,”

@Phyreblade, Jessa’s done her homework; I’d be disappointed in any daughter of Quinn’s who hadn’t! Putting the Gratham girl in her place was a perfect comeback to the taunting. And thinking ahead enough to bribe the guards for a little extra security was smart.

Vette brushing Broonmark’s fur: I love this image!

Vector,

I can’t tell you how sorry I am to leave you holding this letter. You’ve awoken someplace strange, and it’s my doing. While you slept, I shot you full of destims and had Kaliyo help me move you into the hangar at the Rhu Caenus. I know you’re confused and maybe even angry. (It occurs to me that I’ve never seen you angry. I’d hate to think I’ve caused that.) But I had to do this. You mean everything to me, Vector. And I can’t protect you. That’s why I had to let you go.

It would kill me if someone hurt you because of what you are to me. This is for the best. Someday you’ll see that. And someday maybe I’ll believe it, too. But know that even though we can’t be together anymore, it doesn’t change what I feel for you.

If it were a matter of giving up everything to run away with you, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But the decisions I’ve made won’t ever allow that. Someone will always come for me and the people I love. And I’d rather give you up than let them have you.

I love you, Vector. Until my dying breath, I’ll cherish every moment we had together. I want you to be happy, but I admit that I’m too selfish to wish that you’ll move on. I only hope you can forgive me.

Yours forever,

Kinka

***

My love,

I don’t expect that this message will ever find you, as you’ve always been adept at staying hidden when you wish to. But I cannot just move on without trying to let you know one last time that I love you. I hope you’re well, Kinka. You were struggling so much before, and it hurt to watch you try to go through that alone.

I understand the reasoning behind your decision, even if I don’t agree with it. I’d rather be by your side, holding you, kissing you, listening to you talk about anything. But if my absence puts you at ease, well, I live to serve.

With more time, I would have told you what a bright light you are to me, that you alone gave me a reason to find my humanity again. It’s a gift no one could ever match.

When a person becomes a Joiner, it’s easy to slip into a sort of complacency, lost in a sea of other people’s memories. They come all at once with an intensity I could never put into words. You feel simultaneously like you’re being cradled in the womb and being crushed under the weight of a thousand generations long past. But you don’t mind it. The flood of memory becomes your being. You are no longer you but the collective. I never wanted to separate myself from the whole until I met you.

You showed an interest in me. Not merely as the man I was or a thing to be feared as so many others did, but you saw me as the individual I became.

Should we someday meet again, I’ll follow your lead, though the impulse to pull you into my arms and keep you there will be difficult to fight. It’s something I will dream of each night until the end. But until you say otherwise, I will respect the distance you’ve put between us and hope for the day that circumstances no longer keep us apart.

I love you, Kinka. Always.

Vector

@mirdthestrill: I completed the consular story once and you know I never really actually noticed that Yuon doesn't turn up again. I do like the idea of the consular going back to visit their teacher and friend to talk to them about their life, especially since the consular does go through a lot.

@Striges: Once more I offer my thanks for taking up the reins of the weekly prompt

@Alaurin: Alaurin are you going to manage the prompt archive as well? I tip my hat to you as well as it is very gracious of you to maintain the Story index and the prompt archive

@Marissalf: Very touching two letters between Kinka and Vector. I like the idea that Vector writes the letter even though he has no idea how Kinka will ever receive it.

General Drivos was an accomplished and respected member of the Imperial military. He had risen through the ranks of the Imperial Army through hard work and dedication, proving himself on several smaller battlefields during the Great Galactic War with the Republic. Now that the Treaty of Coruscant had been signed and the war was over, he had turned himself into Darth Marr’s willing servant, tightening the defenses of the Empire, focusing on the worlds that made up the heart of the Empire.

The one time in his life the man took a holiday he had gone to Tatooine to participate in a Krayt Dragon hunt. There he had been one of the few to kill the fearsome beasts, and for his prize he pulled a Black Pearl from the Dragon’s gizzards. It was a story he loved to tell, and a trophy he proudly displayed when he had visitors to his personal apartment on the world of Nfolgai.

All this and more ran through Jayde’s mind as she ran through a swift equipment check. She had all of the tools and gear she would need, she knew the building layout and the location of the security cameras. She ran little risk of being seen as the night was dark and there were few brave enough to break Imperial Curfew laws to be out and about.

Jayde took one last look at the apartment building and ran through the challenges she was about to face in her mind.

General Drivos lived in the west villa at the top of the apartment on the 8th floor. The windows were blast proof to protect from assassination attempts or all out war, and the vents to the apartment were to small for a person to fit through. The only way into the apartment was through the main door which could only be opened by someone inside the apartment or if you had the right code cylinder to unlock it.

To get to the 8th floor, Jayde would either need to use one of two turbolifts at the center of the building, or one of the two emergency exit stairwells on the east and west ends of the building. Both the stairs and the turbolifts had security cameras monitoring them at each floor, sending live security feeds to the guard station in the basement.

The guards themselves would do a manual sweep of the building every 42 minutes in search of anything suspicious. They were armed with lethal weapons and had the authority to stop anyone and ask for proof of residency. In addition, one guard was stationed at the lobby entrance at all hours to observe and monitor incoming and outgoing traffic.

The first step was to gain entry into the building. To that end she started by disguising herself as a lieutenant in the Imperial Navy. The uniform fit well and would help her blend in amongst any other imperials. Furthermore the pockets of the uniform allowed her to conceal the necessary tools and gear she would need to pull off the job.

Jayde then simply walked through the front door to get into the building. The guard saw her and rose from behind his seat. “May I see your identification Lieutenant?”

Jayde rolled her eyes as if put out by the request. She reached into the front pocket of her shirt and pulled out a fake code cylinder she had made earlier and held it up so the guard could see it. This was more for the benefit of the cameras than for the actual guard. He would have to scan the code cylinder before he could verify her identity, and since it was a fake code cylinder, as soon as he scanned it alarms would start ringing.

Jayde kept her cool though. As the guard reached for the code cylinder she looked into his eyes and reached out to his mind with the force. “Don’t you recognize me,” she said, using the force to cloud his perceptions, “I showed my ID to you earlier today.” Her voice was neutral and even but commanding.

The guard’s eyes went glassy and his hand froze, then withdrew. “I recognize you,” he said, his voice flat and vacant while he parroted her words. “You showed your ID to me earlier today.”

“I may go through,” Jayde said, just to make sure that the security recordings got her authorization on record.

“You may go through,” the Guard echoed and waving her on. He vacantly sat back down at his desk and turned his glassy eyes back to his computer terminal.

Jayde nodded her head and passed by him to the turbolifts. She pushed the button to call for one, then patiently waited for it to arrive. The hum of the repulsor units could be heard first, then it dinged and the doors slid open. Jayde stepped aboard and pushed the button for the 8th floor. The doors closed and the turbolift began to rise.

As it rose Jayde reached out with the force, extending her senses to the 8th floor and beyond the turbolift doors. She could feel that the floor was empty, that the occupants of both the east and west villas were sound asleep. The turbolift began to slow so Jayde prepared herself for the next step. She drew out an Anti-security blade from within her sleeve, turned it on and palmed it. The ultra harmonic frequency the device emitted would temporarily short out nearby security cameras when she reached the 8th floor. In her other hand she clutched the fake code cylinder.

The turbolift stopped and the doors opened. Jayde stepped out and glanced around. She spotted the security camera tucked up high above the turbolift, looking down on any who stepped out or in. A red light glowed on the back, signaling the camera was not on.

Jayde quickly stepped out of view and turned the anti-security blade off. If the guards were on top of things they would soon investigate why the camera on the 8th floor had temporarily gone offline. It was better if she wasn’t here if they came to investigate.

She made her way down the hall to the west villa. A small computer terminal was on one side of the doorway. It was designed to read a code cylinder and then open the door if the cylinder had authorization. Jayde brandished her fake cylinder but didn’t insert it into the terminal. Instead she twisted the cylinder and a sharp needle like point appeared, revealing it as a disguised security spike. Jayde jammed the spike into the terminal and pushed the transmit button. Rather than transmit the clearance code as a correct code cylinder would, the security spike instead began to feed hundreds of thousands of bytes of garbage data into the tiny computer, overloading its processors and memory banks until the machine malfunctioned. The tiny computer did a system purge, erasing all of the garbage and its entire memory.

Jayde punched another button on the security spike. This time instead of transmitting garbage data, the machine transmitted a random code. With the security terminal having purged its memory banks completely it did not have any code on file and automatically accepted the new one.

A green light flashed on the terminal and the door slid open. Jayde quickly stepped through and paused to close the door behind her. She stood in the den and main room of the villa. The lights were dark and the only sound she could hear was the slow drip of a leaking faucet someone had forgot to turn all the way off. She controlled her breathing, lest she wake anyone up with the softest noise.

Slowly Jade moved forward. A large marble table sat in the center of the main room, and on top of it a transparisteel case. Inside the case, gleaming darkly in the dim lighting of the villa, sat the black krayt pearl Jayde was after. She slid like a shadow across the floor to the table and dropped to one knee next to it. She didn’t touch the case as she did not want to trip any alarms that she didn’t know about. Instead she studied it for a moment, looking for the best way to open the case and take the pearl without setting anything off. After a few moments it seemed the only thing that came to mind was to lift the lid off the case and take the pearl from within.

But that would be too easy.

Leaving nothing to chance, Jayde put her hand on the transparisteel case and extended her senses in the force. Through the force her mind was able to quickly analyze the case and the table and even the floor that it all rested upon. She blinked as it dawned on her and she smiled. Clever, she dryly thought to herself, but not good enough.

Jayde turned her attention away from the case and to the table it rested on. She ran a hand along the base, her fingers tracing the edges between table and case. There was a faint and very thin line where the case seemed to have sunk just a little into the table itself. Jayde grasped the case with both hands and pulled. It didn’t take much. Once she gave it a good tug, greased wheels and servomotors did the rest.

The case rose off the table and into the air and underneath was a small safe. The heavy table, the safe, and the case were all one piece, disguised to look like separate parts. The case was actually the top of the safe. Jayde smiled in appreciation at the craftsmanship of the device, all of it meant to throw your average thief or robber off so they didn’t escape with the real gem.

But Jayde wasn’t average.

She turned her attention to the door of the safe and its lock. A quick glance revealed that it was mechanical, using a dial combination lock to keep its contents safe. Jayde smiled again. Mechanical locks were old technology; so old that you only saw them on backwater worlds. Most thieves would resort to brute force to get through such a lock; trying to drill or cut through the lock. Jayde had the force though.

Once more calling upon it, she tuned out the rest of the world and focused her hearing on the spin of the dial. Slowly she turned it clockwise until she heard a very soft and faint click. Then she turned it counter clockwise. She had almost gone a full rotation when she heard the second click. A triumphant smirk crossed her face. She began to turn the dial a third time, turning it clockwise once more when she heard another click. She raised an eyebrow but grasped the latch and tugged.

The door of the safe opened revealing its contents. Inside were several flimsiplast documents and two datacards. Sitting in the center of those objects was a single black krayt pearl. Jayde reached in with her gloved hands and picked the pearl up, pulling it from the safe. She held it in her hand and studied it for a moment to make sure it was real thing. Satisfied she opened her jacket and put the pearl into an inner pocket. From the same pocket she pulled out a small token of hers, a little half-moon emblem. She set the half-moon emblem where the pearl had been, then closed the safe and returned it to its concealed position.

Now it was time to escape. She could not go back to the turbolifts. She could not afford to stand long at the turbolift and wait for it to return if she shorted the security camera out a second time. Nor could she take the emergency exit stairs as there were cameras placed at each level, and shorting each one would alert the guards to her presence.

Instead of risking the turbolift or the stairs or some other rash and ill planned scheme, Jayde exited the west villa and stepped back into the hall. She took one quick glance around again to make sure she was not in view of any cameras. Then she moved to a small boxy object attached to the wall that had a lever on the side of it. Words were scrawled in aurebrush “Pull in Case of Fire.” Jayde grasped the lever and tugged hard.

Immediately klaxons and sirens began screaming. The hallway lighting turned off and was replaced by red emergency lights. An automated voice began broadcasting over a building wide intercom “Attention. Attention. This is not a drill. Please move to the nearest exit. Attention. Attention…” the voice repeated its message over and over. Running blue lights began to flash on and off along the length of the floor, creating an oscillating pattern that ran the length of the hallway to the emergency exits. Jayde followed the lights.

She entered the stairwell and started down. Ahead of her, bleary eyed imperials stumbled through the doors and down the stairwell towards the exit, murmuring amongst themselves about what was going on. Behind her Jayde heard the doors bang open and close their final times as the villa occupants joined everyone else. Slowly the crowd of people made their way down the stairs passing each security camera. Jayde kept the bill of her lieutenant’s cap pulled low and her face turned so the cameras never caught a clear picture.

Finally they exited the building and walked out onto the street. Security guards pushed people back to a safe distance away from the building, while more sirens grew louder as they approached. Jayde allowed herself to be herded out of the way with the rest of the crowd as the Anti-fire unit pulled up in their repulsor truck. Wearing full protective gear the fire men rushed through the lobby doors and into the building to search for any stragglers and find the source of the alarm. Jayde watched the commotion, her arms folded across her chest. She smirked in satisfaction and triumph. No one noticed as she turned and slipped away from it all.

The best thing about the simple jobs was that they were easy.

Delia sat in the back of the repulsor limo, leaning against the side and gazed listlessly at the passing scenery. Ziost’s traffic was light this morning. She wondered if that was a side effect of the treaty signed between the Empire and the Republic, things slowing down as people readjusted. She debated about asking William what he thought and glanced towards the front of the limo. The twilek sat in the driver’s seat, quiet but attentive, keeping his focus on the ever shifting traffic lanes. She hadn’t decided whether or not he was Lord Morokei's servant or slave, but the twilek had made clear that there were boundaries that couldn’t be climbed over despite her attempts to.

She decided not to distract him and turned back to her view of the traffic. The Ministry of Logistics was quickly approaching. It had been a few days since she had been to the office and she was looking forward to something that resembled normalcy. Signing the marriage license and sorting the other datawork, as well as moving from her apartment to Lord Morokei’s mansion had taken the better part of the last two days. Two days her superiors had generously given to her. She hadn’t even seen Lord Morokei since he signed the flimsiplast and William appeared to be the only other person in the mansion. The mansion was always empty and solemn.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized she was really looking forward to getting back into the office and seeing all her old coworkers.

The repulsor limo pulled up in front of the Ministry, something she was not accustomed to at all. She had always parked in the garage beneath the Ministry, no one had ever dropped her off before. Delia reached for the door but somehow William was quicker. The twilek had no sooner parked the limo than he had jumped out of the speeder, made his way around to her side and opened it for her. She frowned at him. “I can open it myself,” she said.

William smiled at her and nodded his head. “Of course my lady,” he said. His tone was warm but Delia could see on his face that he had no intentions of letting her open it for herself. “I’ll be here to pick you up at the end of your work day, Ma’am. If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to call me on my commlink.”

Sighing at the futility of challenging him, she shook her head and headed into the ministry. She waved her code cylinders across the security scanner at the front desk, then got into one of the turbolifts with several other people. When the turbolift was full it started upwards, stopping at what felt like every floor to let someone off or someone else get on. Finally it reached Agriculture, and forcing herself through the crowd Delia got off.

She stood in front of the turbolift for a moment and took comfort in seeing those bland and boring old workstations and pods. People rushed back and forth with datapads and cards dealing with whatever crises had arisen over night across all the worlds of the Empire. Delia smiled and headed for her desk pod.

She passed the security desk and smiled at Stan, the day shift guard. “Morning Stan,” she said with a grin.

Stan looked up from his computer terminal and did a double take. “Deli-I mean my lady!” he exclaimed.

Delia rolled her eyes. Getting addressed by the formalities was something she was never going to get used to. “It’s just Delia, Stan.” She kept walking towards her desk but out of the corner of her eye she saw him reach for his commlink. She frowned at his odd behavior but brushed it off. He probably hadn’t expected to see her back in the office so soon though. But the office was better than lounging around an empty mansion all day.

She passed her friend Rebekah’s pod and smiled at her. “Morning Bekah!” she said.

Rebekah glanced up from her work and waved at her before turning back to her work and Delia kept on. Then Delia heard a sudden commotion behind her. She paused and turned around and saw flimsiplast floating on the air and a stack of datapads lying on the ground as Rebekah rushed towards her. The other woman was walking swiftly and looked anxious. Delia waited with a raised and curious eyebrow. Clearly her friend was in a hurry to tell her something. “Delia, hey! What are you doing here? Didn’t you just get married?” Rebekah asked.

Delia rolled her eyes and resumed her walk to her desk pod. “Yes, and my honeymoon got cancelled due to the war,” she said sarcastically. “You sound like you’re surprised to see me.”

“Well I am.” Delia glanced over her shoulder, confused by her friends quick remark. Rebekah quickly covered. “I mean I’m surprised to see you back so soon, I thought you had more time off...like a lot more.”

Delia frowned at Rebekah. Something odd was definitely going around the office today. “Captain Largate only gave me the two days of leave to get everything straight, and frankly just one would have been enough. What happened here while I was gone did I miss anything exciting?”

Rebekah glanced away, refusing to meet Delia’s eyes as they turned a corner. “Well, Largate did make one big change yesterday…” she said, her voice trailing away at the end. “There was a transfer into the office.”

Delia raised an eyebrow. That was a surprising bit of news as the department of agriculture for the Ziost office was already overcrowded. She briefly wondered where they would put the new employee and was about to ask Rebekah when she noticed there was someone sitting in her pod. Her pace slowed and she looked back at her friend, but Rebekah continued to avert her eyes. Frowning she approached the man who was deep into his work. “Excuse me,” she said, “can I help you?”

The man spun his chair around and Delia saw that he had several cybernetic implants built into his head. He smiled at her. “Me? Oh no, I don’t need anything. Just getting the terminal booted for another day of work,” he said, his tone polite and friendly. Jovial even.

“Uh-huh,” Delia said, narrowing her eyes. She wasn’t sure what to make of the man. “And why are you sitting at my station?” she asked. She hoped that William hadn’t arranged for some personal assistant to cater to her while she worked.

The man looked at her in confusion. “I’m sorry,” he said hesitantly, glancing between Delia and Rebekah, “Captain Largate assigned this station to me yesterday. He said that the previous officer who worked here wasn’t coming back to work.”

“What? Why would he—“ Delia’s jaw dropped in shock and she looked at her friend. Rebekah just closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. Delia looked back at the man

The man finally put two and two together and jumped to his feet. “Oh my-you’re the-I’m so sorry my lady-Let me clear-“

“Stop!” Delia said, holding up both hands and scrunching her eyes closed tight. Mercifully the man stopped stammering and froze in place. Delia pinched the bridge of her nose and took a real deep breath in, trying to calm herself down. She could not believe this. She was gone two days to file marriage datawork and get moved into her new home and her superior just assumed she wasn’t coming back. She tried to think of what possible reason that the captain had but her head was spinning to much. She shook it to try and clear her head. She needed to talk to him. “Is the Captain in his office?” she asked.

The man unfroze as he vigorously nodded his head in some bizarre attempt to placate her. “Yes, he came in a little early this morning. I can ring him on his comm and let him know you’re coming.” He reached for his comm and froze, unsure of what he should do.

Delia put on her best and most polite smile. “Thank you but that’s not necessary. I’d rather not make a fuss.” She turned and headed for Captain Largate’s small office at the end of the hallway. Behind her she knew that the man and Rebekah were slinking back to their desks, hoping to keep their heads down and avoid…whatever they thought they needed to avoid. She shook her head. Everything right now was so frustratingly maddening.

Largate’s door was open so she knocked once before barging in. She snapped to attention and threw up a steady and firm salute. “Captain Largate, I wish to have a moment of your time, sir.”

Largate scrambled up out of his chair and from behind his desk. “Yes-of course-how can I be of service my lady?” he asked. He rushed by her to close the door then came back around. Delia held the salute waiting for him to acknowledge it but Largate seemed oblivious. He looked at her with a hint of fear in his eyes, waiting for her to speak.

Delia gave up on the salute and dropped into an at ease position. So much for the comforting regularity of military protocol too. “You gave me two days of leave and when I come back, there’s already been someone assigned to my work and station.” she said.

Largate winced and shrank slightly, something she had never seen the man do when talking to a lieutenant before. “Well—we thought—I mean I thought—I simply thought that with you getting married that you…” his voice trailed off and his cheeks flushed red as he floundered with words.

“Thought what?” Delia asked, her voice rising. “Thought Lord Morokei was going to lock me up as his little pet? Thought I was going to be killed? Thought I was going to just skip out on my job?” She threw her hands up in the air and began pacing in frustration.

Captain Largate shook his head. “No—that’s not—we—I.” The man seemed to be having a terribly hard time forming a coherent thought for some reason. Delia glared at him waiting for a response and trying to puzzle out why he was acting so strangely. Finally the man took a deep breath in and let it out. Then he put a smile meant to placate and pacify. “My Lady, please tell me what the problem is exactly and I will do everything in my power to resolve it.”

Delia stared at him for a second. She resisted the urge to scream, remembering that he was her superior officer. “The problem? The problem is that in less than a standard week, I have had my entire life turned upside down and when I came to work for some normalcy, for some reason beyond the Emperor’s great vision, I’ve had my station and work assigned to someone else without even telling me!”

Largate stared at her in confusion, unsure of how to respond. “You wanted to come back to work?” he asked, still apparently befuddled. Delia glared at him, daring him to make her repeat herself. Largate’s plastic placating smile quickly returned. “Done,” he said, “We’ll get you an office—hell, you can have my office—I can get someone to clean my things out and set up a terminal for you in less than an hour.”

Delia was jolted to a halt. She shook her head, confused and reeling. “Wait—what?” she asked. The captain reached for his commlink and she quickly waved her hands at him, making him freeze in place. “I don’t want an office—“

“A promotion?” Largate said interrupting her, raising his eyebrow. “That’s a little tougher but I think my superior Major Groft might be able to push something through before the end of today.” He reached for his commlink again.

“No!” Delia yelled. She closed her eyes and balled her fists up. The man just didn’t understand it. “I don’t want an office! I don’t want a promotion! I just want to go back to my station, and my work, and my job!” she pleaded, hoping that he would finally understand.

Largate raised an eyebrow then quickly nodded his head. “Done.” Before Delia could move he threw open his office door and leaned out of it. “Ravers! Pack your things and head to personnel! We’re reassigning you!” he yelled.

Delia had followed Largate and saw the man at her desk looking over the top of the pods towards the captain. When he saw Delia appear he quickly dropped back down out of sight. Delia ignored him for the moment. “No—Stop—what are you doing?” she said to Largate.

He turned and looked at her in confusion, the red in his cheeks returning in full. “You said—“ he began.

“I know what I said!” Delia growled, cutting him off. “That doesn’t mean I want—“ She stopped herself and held up both hands, motioning for the captain to stop. She took a deep breath out and let it out in frustration. “You know what? Just forget it. I don’t want to deal with this right now. I’m going to just go home and I’ll deal with this later.”

A look of pure abject terror crossed Captain Largate’s face. He desperately lunged forward. “Wait—hold on—we can work this out! There’s no need to involve Lord Morokei—“

Delia’s whole head rolled with her eyes. “Why would I tell Lord Morokei about this—why would he even--" she began to ask, struggling to keep her voice under control. Then she let out a pent up frustrated breath and shook her head. “That’s it,” she said, cutting the air with her hand for emphasis. “I’ll report to personnel tomorrow for reassignment but I can’t deal with this right now.”

Fuming she shoved past the captain and started her long walk around the desk pods back to the turbolifts. The office was deathly silent as she walked and all of her former coworkers kept their heads down and out of sight. Delia glared at anyone who dared to poke their head above the edge of the cubicle. She paused at Rebekah’s desk. “Bekah, let’s do lunch tomorrow yeah?”

Her friend stared at her in shock but quickly nodded her head. “Uh—yeah—should I call your comm or…”

“I’ll come up and find you. See you tomorrow.” With that taken care of she finished her march to the turbolift and called it. She crossed her arms across her chest and tapped her foot impatiently until the lift arrived. She boarded and reached for the parking level button, then remembered the William had driven her. Growling in annoyance she pushed the lobby button and the doors rolled close.

As the turbolift whisked her to the lobby, Jayde dialed William’s comm and sent him an alert to pick her up. The lift arrived at the lobby and as soon as its doors were open enough she stormed through them. William was waiting out front. As he saw her approaching he opened the side door for her. Delia ignored him and opened the passenger door next to the driver and climbed in. William frowned. “My lady—“ he started to say.

Delia held up a warning finger and shot him a withering glare. “So help me, if you even finish that thought I will send you to the hutts to work for them.”

William raised an eyebrow. Then he shrugged and closed the speeder doors. He made his way around the front of the repulsor limo and climbed into the driver’s seat. “Where to my lady?” he asked.

“Somewhere I can get a drink,” she growled at him. William nodded his head and shifted the repulsor limo into drive, then pulled away from the building. Delia put a hand to her temple and glared out the window. If she couldn’t find something familiar with work then she would try and find something familiar at the bottom of a bottle.

Wow, two long pieces for me. Just a couple of quick thoughts and explanations.

I have always enjoyed reading about the different force users and their beliefs, other than the Jedi and the Sith. I love the idea of the Shapers of Kro Var, but SWTOR is way to early in the galaxy's timeline for them to appear. That said, one thing I've noticed is that there has never been a group of force sensitive thieves, a thieves guild so to speak, who use the force to commit robberies and heists. So Jayde is that, a force sensitive thief. I've got some more ideas for other heists, so we'll definitely see more of her.

As for Delia, I do feel bad about the struggles I put her through. As I've said before, with Imperial Society I find there is this vast gulf of responsibilities and protocols between the Sith and the Non-force users. Keep in mind, even the most powerful moffs in the empire have to bow down before lowly acolytes and apprentices. So Delia is kinda trapped between these two worlds now, where she's got the sith and all of their politics on one hand, and on the other she's got the citizens of the empire who do whatever sith tell them to or are killed. I tried to show that here, that while Delia is not a sith, because she is married to a sith the normal citizens of the Empire are now afraid of her because she has been elevated into that higher power circle.

Regardless, I hope everyone's enjoyed these two shorts.

The peasant dropped to his knees and groaned. The Imperial soldier shepherding him from the palace grabbed him roughly by the collar and shoved him away. The peasant hit the ground and there was a rough thumping sound as he gained several bruises.

"Please, soldier," begged the peasant, "let us in. We must talk to the Lord Ruler. We need food..."

"You want food, start scavenging," the Imperial snarled harshly.

"But..." the peasant protested.

"Shut up!" the soldier snapped.

He raised his rifle to bash in the man's head, and the man raised his arms in meager defense. Suddenly, a hand grabbed the butt of the rifle, stopping it in midair. The shocked Imperial glanced to his left to see a man in tan and brown spacer's clothes with a hood pulled over his head, his left hand clasped firmly on the butt.

"Why, you–" the Imperial growled.

"Leave the people alone," the man said. He snapped the rifle aside and punched the Imperial on the jaw, loosening his helmet and sending him toppling to the ground. "Or else."

The soldier's comrades, standing near the palace gates, saw the commotion and rushed over, rifles raised. Suddenly, a brown-garbed figure leapt from a nearby tree, snap-kicking the first soldier in the jaw. The second turned in surprise, only to be knocked unconscious when the brown-clad figure smashed his fist into the Imperial's neck.

The second figure walked over to the first, who was helping the peasant to his feet as if he hadn't seen the threat of the two soldiers coming towards him. The peasant looked dumbfounded by the idea of two apparent strangers taking on three Imperial guards alone.

"Thank you so much," the old man babbled, "but you must get out of here! They'll come and take you away to execute you."

"I think not," the first figure said.

He reached up and pulled his hood down. He had shoulder-length brown hair, a small goatee on his chin, and piercing brown eyes that seemed to burrow into the very soul of the person he was looking at–and yet, those eyes also had an endless kindness in them. The second man lowered his hood, as well, revealing sandy-brown hair, a neatly trimmed goatee and mustache, and green eyes full of compassion.

"Prince Jasin!" the peasant exclaimed. "Lord Gareb!"

"Not prince anymore, I'm afraid," Jasin replied. "I'm a Jedi Master now; I gave up my right to legal heir to the throne when I took that title."

"And I am no longer a lord," Gareb agreed. "But we are here to free Phaeda from the oppression of the Empire once and for all."

"Just the two of you?" the peasant asked.

Jasin grinned tightly. "That's all we need."

* * *

The guards at the palace's doors looked up as the two brown-clad figures approached. Confused, they raised their rifles. Jasin didn't give them a chance to fire. Leaping three meters in the air, he spun and hurled his lightsaber, using the Force to activate it mid-air. The cyan blade slashed through one guard's chest and returned to his hand. Meanwhile, Gareb Force-pulled the second guard onto his blade.

"Let's see how the Sith have changed our home, shall we?" Jasin said.

He Force-pushed the doors open and walked into the corridor. The once magnificent halls of gold and red had been painted a dull gray and black. Disgusted, Jasin led Gareb in, his lightsaber ignited. Gareb reached down to his belt and lit his green blade. A Sith Apprentice charged in, leading a squad of five troopers. The apprentice leapt at Jasin. Jasin leapt into the air and kicked the Sith in the chest before he could reach him. The Sith's momentum stopped and he crashed to the ground.

The Sith rolled to his feet and activated his lightsaber. Jasin swept at his neck, and the apprentice blocked it deftly, spun around, and thrust. Jasin deflected the Sith's blade, turning it aside, and ran him through.

Gareb, meanwhile, quickly disposed of the Imperials with a series of Force pushes and thrown statues. Not even breathing heavily, the two continued on. The resistance was fierce throughout the palace, but eventually they reached the throne room. Inside sat a Sith Lord, an apprentice on either side of him. The Lord made a gesture with his left hand, and the apprentices advanced.

The one on the left, armed with a pair of red lightsabers, charged Jasin, while the one on the right, wielding a double-bladed purple saber, attacked Gareb. The four combatants dueled across the throne room, and soon the Jedi had defeated the apprentices, Jasin's enemy neatly bisected and Gareb's impaled.

The Sith Lord growled, "Enough."

Rising from his throne, he strode forward. Jasin and Gareb raised their lightsabers in preparation. The Sith fired a bolt of lightning at Jasin, which he easily deflected. With the Lord indisposed, Gareb grabbed a bust off the right wall and hurled it at his head. The Lord ducked under the bust and sent a burst of Force energy at Gareb. The Jedi Master neatly absorbed it.

"Impressive," the Sith said. "You are quite expert combatants. It'll be a pity to kill you."

"I think not," Jasin said. "I am Prince Jasin of Phaeda, and I reclaim this planet for the Republic."

The Sith laughed. "Do you, now? We'll see about that." He ignited his lightsaber, which glowed the color of lava. "Come. We will see how you fare against a true Dark Lord."

Jasin laughed at that mentally; he'd faced the Empire's worst–literally. He charged, swinging his lightsaber, while Gareb dropped to his knees and began to use the ancient art of Battle Meditation, enhancing Jasin's muscles and mind.

The Jedi and Sith danced across the throne room, lightsabers flashing. Cyan and orange blades colored the dark room in sheets of light. Jasin knew immediately that the Sith was one of the best fighters he'd ever encountered, but he was no match for Jasin's Battle Meditation-enhanced skills. The duel lasted for a few more minutes, and finally Jasin slashed off the Sith's weapon hand and held his blade at his throat.

"Surrender," he said, "and we'll send you back to the Empire."

The Sith sneered. "Do I have a choice? Very well. I surrender to you. Congratulations, prince. The prize is yours."

Jasin felt an immense weight lift from his shoulders–his home was free.

Khyriel felt the slow slide of trepidation, nervousness tittering through the muscles of his stomach. He felt everything going tighter, like something had grabbed hold of his belly and started squeezing. He wondered madly what would be released from him, if he finally burst under the pressure. It occurred to him, that whatever it was the people around him would surely pay a terrible price for having made it. It certainly felt scary and nasty, anyway.

Khyriel looked away from the stuffy little man attending to what he'd called "unpleasant business" when he arrived, ignoring him entirely as he tried to calm himself. The room matched the man's practical and perfectionist appearance, what with his fancy coat and trousers all creased in just the right way. There was no color to his apparel, either. It was all gray with black lining. Almost like he was afraid of even the smallest whispered hint of color, as if some small bit of red would prove dangerous or offensive.

The man was nothing like Khyriel's father, obviously. He was so slight, for one thing. And his face was a narrow mess of rat-like features. He even had large teeth that bulged out from his upper lip. His father, rather, had been fit, well-muscled, and handsome enough. But Lucian had always surrounded himself with bright colors, too. Comfortable fabrics, soft and easy to handle. Pillows and rugs and blankets -- all of them vivid and beautiful. Red, mostly. Because red reminded you how ardent, how brilliant life was, Lucian said. It was the color of your heart and blood, the very essence inside of every person. Red was his father's favorite color.

Khyriel missed seeing red everywhere he turned. Here, everything was dark, moody. Shadows abounded in the corners, because the windows were kept ruthlessly covered. That's the only place he could see something fabric, was the thick curtains over the windows. And those were a morose gray in color and that made them look hard. Like rock. Softness seemed lacking, like it wasn't allowed. Rather, he bumped up against hard surfaces, rough edges everywhere he turned. Nothing was cushioned, nothing was comfortable. Even the books and datapads allowed in the place rested on rigid tables with sharp and terrible corners.

He hated it. He missed home. Missed his father. Khyriel wanted Lucian to come walking in the door, grab him up and carry him away from the dark rooms of this house, to assure him, "I told you I'd only be gone a short time, see? The Empire's officers have to demonstrate its strength, have to show those who'd make us bow down that we won't be broken. But that doesn't take long, now does it?" But remembering only made his stomach hurt even more, and he leaned foward slightly, fighting to keep his lunch from earlier from spilling out onto the floor. Khyriel swallowed hard, hard, refusing to let the nausea win against his will.

And then Lusiel was there. She sidled closer, so that her small frame was pressed solidly alongside his own. Her hand slid down until her fingers clasped his, wrapped them up, and they stood there together. Like one single solid unit of blood and bone against the lot of them, every single one of them who would try to crush and destroy them.

Lusiel was shaking, too, he realized. Although not so much with nervousness, like him. It was more that she was angry, and he realized he could almost feel it, it was so vivid. Her feelings were so vibrantly powerful he might have imagined they were like great splashes of color filling the space. As if they were things you could see, could touch. So real they became corporeal, almost. But he looked at the others, then, and knew with a start none of them had a single clue that Lusiel was absolutely enraged as she stood there watching them. They just kept arguing, back and forth, like a bristling pool of sharks fighting over bloody flesh in the water.

Lusiel breathed in slowly. "No. That will not happen."

The others in the room stopped, so that quiet fell over the space like a smothering blanket. Just snuffed out in one whole swooping breath. Khyriel looked towards his aunt, gulping slightly as he watched her beautiful blue eyes narrow dangerously. She looks so much like mother, he thought, shuddering. His mother had tried ridding herself of him, too. Repeatedly and often. She'd rage at him whenever he managed to evade another one of her "games", as she called them. Mostly because she was so bitterly disappointed he was never fooled by any one of the manuevers. His terribly young life had proved a long series of adventures designed to keep from "falling down" or "getting lost", in fact.

Because his father really would kill her if he ever suspected it was anything but accidental, she'd muttered once. Not that she would have approved of Khyriel overhearing her, either. It was then he realized the heady shield his father's care really was, that even when the uniform he wore so proudly took him far away, he was protecting him. And it was his sister who would've denounced her most vocally, too.

Lusiel hissed at her aunt, now. Just the way she used to glare towards their mother when she was enjoying one of her more ugly fits, too. "Do not think you'll beat me at this game, aunt. I am stronger than you, and you know it!"

Pella Hejaran stepped back before she thought, her eyes wide with shock at the girl's bitter chastisement. Khyriel imagined she was confused Lusiel was even capable of such vehemence. But he could still feel the ripples of his sister's anger against the air, could nearly taste it it was so vivid. Maybe because she was still pressed against him, still held his hand tightly in her grip. But Pella was determined, too. So she caught herself, shaking her head as she stumbled haltingly. "You must understand, dearling. Your own skills, as you point out so directly, are impressive enough. But his? He is sadly lacking. That doesn't mean we will not find a place for him! Our mining holdings on Bergeren can benefit from his ... supervision."

Lusiel's pretty nostrils flared. For a moment, she looked so much like her mother, who's fits of temper had proved incredible throughout the years, that Pella actually exulted. It pleased her, that the girl showed evidence of her maternal heritage, even if she was marred by her miscreant father's harsh coloring. It would not take overmuch effort, she imagined, to ensure she was properly influenced. It required a number of careful motions, however. Starting here ...

But Lusiel was far more aware of every one of the influences working on her. And her will was strong enough she picked among them very methodically. She glared at her mother's sister, well anticipating the woman's intentions. "My father was an accomplished medical officer in the Imperial military. He would not have approved his only son grubbing in some ugly holes in the ground of Bergeren. There are appropriate academies for his study, rather, located here on Dromund Kaas. Khyriel will remain here."

Khyriel stayed quiet although his dark-eyed gaze remained focused on his aunt and uncle, as well as their sycophantic grub-weasel of a lawyer, who stayed on the far side of the room. He could have warned them, told them how often they dodged and skirted the more deadly intentions their mother offered Khyriel. This less-than subtle scheme was almost laughable, in fact. Pella and her rotund figure of a husband, Goran, would be disappointed if they imagined for even a second Lucian Phyre would have failed his children so badly, that Khyriel could be removed from Kaas City, from the sway and clout of those who'd shield him.

And it was right then Lucian's impact became obvious, at last. Pella jerked her attention to the doorway, when one of the servants softly harrumphed for attention, "What is it?"

"Mistress ... there is an officer from the Imperial Army, who's insisting he be in attendance to the proceedings, here. Field Commander Dace Gredge, mistress."

"Field Commander ...? Are you certain?"

Khyriel recognized Gredge, as he pushed past the servant to stalk into the room. The man moved like a veritable wall of masculine authority, his frame large and looming with a broad, powerful chest and bulging shoulders. He obviously worked his body hard, and the scars bisecting his face showed a singular tendency to determination on the battlefield that often won confrontations before they'd even begun.

Dace had long respected Lucian Phyre, if only because you respected the man who stitched close the tears in your flesh there in the field. But then Lucian saved Dace's brother, after he was injured by rebellious slaves in a Sith household nearby the Citadel. Left to heal on his own, after the Sith lord angrily denounced the damage caused by the fighting in the hallways of his personal estate, young Aldous would have eventually succumbed to the rot eating away at his thigh.

Except Lucian determinedly worked over the soldier, hours of sweat and panting effort, that he devoted to saving the young man's life. And his brother's cybernetic leg was so perfectly integrated there were precious few who even recognized the limb was a false one. Dace provided Lucian with regular protestations of gratitude but the medical officer disregarded any notion of debts owed, declaring to him, "It's my place, my duty to do as I did. That's all."

Today, Dace would fulfill his own duty to the man he eventually called a friend. And that was all, too. "I would hope the certainty of a minor slave to your whims suffices, yes. I am here to attend the last legal wishes of Colonel Lucian Phyre, in regards his children by his wife, Karen Hejaran."

Goran gaped, his mouth hanging wide as if he was some grotesque bird waiting for regurgitated sustenance to be shoved down his throat. Lusiel curled her nose in delicate disgust as she regarded him. Especially when he was stupid enough to actually splutter, "But ... you're interfering! This is family business!"

Dace lifted his eyebrows towards the fat man, surprised. "Are you saying Lucian Phyre wasn't accorded the respect of family, that you'd disregard those legal measures he took to secure his children in the event of his passing?" He lifted a hand in warning when Goran very nearly spoke again. "Be careful what you say in response, mind you. If you make an open denouncement of familial ties, any claim you might have to Lucian's estate, including whatever decisions might be made for his children, could be voided."

Pella sniffed loudly. "Karen was my sister, in fact."

"Indeed. And her marriage to Lucian Phyre accorded tremendous financial and social resources to his wife. He was an accomplished officer and a wealthy man all on his own, in fact. Karen Phyre brought nothing to their marriage but her womb, I do believe. And Lucian disdained even that, towards the end, yes?"

Pella glared mightily. Khyriel thought she looked very much like one of those mythological lizards that spat plumes of fire as she stared across the room towards the military man. "How dare you."

Dace shrugged, nonchalant. "You might be surprised." He turned crisply towards the children, nodding carefully at Lucian's daughter. The girl was tested only a year ealier, although Lucian had been adamant she was force-sensitive even as the child was learning to walk. And her stiff stance, steely spine and prideful countenance was as reminiscent of the Sith that Dace had long served that he was not hesitant in granting her the same subservience he proffered to them, here. Only seven years of age or not, the girl practically reeked of power.

And all of it was focused on protecting her younger brother at the moment. She might have been a looming Garu-bear protecting a cub, the sense of dire repercussion should any of them move wrongly was so strong. Dace lowered his chin in deference, "My lord, there are several more tests you will need to endure before your presence on Korriban is expected. Until then, these legal matters must be attended."

Khyriel felt Lusiel's grip on his hand tighten. Silently communicating her never-ending support, like always. That she'd never give up on him. Never. He looked up at Dace, standing as certainly next to his sister as she stood straight and sure. Showing none of the anxiety, not a single sign of the nervousness that still slid coldly along his spine. Because they weren't allowed to understand even a hint of his sister's vulnerability, that harming him could break her apart.

Lusiel loved strongly, when she did. She'd witnessed their father dying, watched Karen make a bloody wreck of his head just before she ran through the window to plummet to her death against the hard ground far below their apartments. That was how he'd found her, found Lusiel huddled next to their father's broken body as she cried wildly, "Don't leave me, Da! You can't!" Khyriel had wrapped his little arms around his torso, hugging himself as his older sister rocked and cried for several long moments.

But the mad scramble of servants from behind him had Khyriel growling over his back, angrily insisting they stay away. "Don't touch her! You don't lay a single finger on my sister! Get back!" The city's enforcers, including several officers who came to investigate, had hesitated to approach through the vibrant obstacle Khyriel made, there. Especially when he showed them the only way to get the sparking force-strong child to back away from their father's corpse was through his own careful proddings. "Lou, I'm scared. Please don't let them take me out of here."

She'd moved to protect her brother, finally, and that became her only real mainstay in the weeks that followed. She loved Khyriel vividly, powerfully, like she did from the moment Lucian waved her towards his tiny body sleeping so soundly in the cradle, telling her, "He's your brother, little one. You watch out for him." And she did, every day. Even through their father dying, maybe especially since then. His death, anyway, seemed to heighten the intensity of her emotions towards him.

Khy mostly understood, at least enough to soothe her, to give her as much care as she offered. His sister was extraordinary, to him. He'd long since placed her on a mighty pedestal somewhere in his mind, like she was a mystical creature, beautiful and rare, that you nigh worshiped. Still, the strength of the feelings he sensed her struggling to come to terms with -- that was beyond him. He wondered if it was a tendency of his sister's Sith nature, rather.

Dace watched them now, understanding what the investigators had seen during the messy altercation in that house. Lusiel was fiercely protecting the last person she truly adored, having lost someone so precious as her father. He imagined her as a Sith, with that sort of nearly violent fervor, and marveled at the ferocity she'd give anyone who threatened those she claimed as her own. And Khyriel? It astounded him a boy barely six years of age could so easily discern how to guide and coerce someone as strongly powerful as a Sith, to use against her those feelings most important to her.

Not that he doubted for a moment how protective the boy was, either. He sensed Khyriel's manipulations were grounded in a care for Lusiel just as potent as anything she felt for him. The pair of siblings would prove incredible together, given time. Gredge was determined they have that chance, and he pointed over at Karen Hejaran's sister and her husband. "Make no mistake. The girl's place on Korriban is more certain even than my title and rank. She is a Sith, and you will not forget to show her the respect she's due. Do you understand?"

Pella frowned uncertainly. Dots of perspiration glistened against the pretty curve of her eyebrows as she lowered her head. "That has never been in doubt, actually."

"Of course not. Instead, you disregarded her as she pointed out the patently obvious. That her younger brother will remain on Dromund Kaas, that he will attend the same academies their father did, and that he will eventually take his place among the ranks of the Imperial military. Such heady disrespect of a Sith will not be permitted!" Gredge lifted a hand, waving behind him towards another, younger officer wearing a captain's bars, who quickly held out a datapad for his superior to refer to as he began dictating, "Contained in this recording is the articulation of those legal directives Lucian Phyre made in regards his children. His financial resources are allocated accordingly, with only those monies to be used in the care and support of his children offered to anyone in the Hejaran family."

Goran gasped, "Are you saying we get nothing? But ..."

"If you agree to provide living arrangements for Lusiel and Khyriel when their training allows, you'll receive adequate allotments to provide for their care, yes. And small stipends aside, too. But only so long as they're cared for. You're lucky, in fact, to even be accorded that much regard. For sake of your shared blood, is all." Gredge glared towards the pair, "The money is theirs and will remain theirs. I'll see to its distribution. In the event I'm incapable of fulfilling my duty, the responsibility falls to my brother, Captain Aldous Gredge, currently commanding the Imperial cruiser, Resolution."

Lusiel tapped her small foot against the hard stone of the floor. "Khyriel is my brother. Whether I'm on Korriban or not, that will not change. I won't allow my brother to be denied what he's due."

"That is what is in no doubt, here, my lord. I assure you, I will not fail either one of you." Dace eased himself to his full and impressive height. He towered over the children that he stepped boldly in front of, silently asserting the protection they'd possess of him. "If you refuse care of the children, they will be ably supported by myself. Choose now. But make it quick. I have other duties to attend."

Goran almost spun on his chunky feet, like he was a fat child's toy twisting in circles against the ground. He glared at their family lawyer, nearly spitting agitated demands, "Do something! They are ours, our family's to decide what to do with! Fix this!"

The rat-faced lawyer turned pasty white in reaction. He glanced over at the officer standing so straight and tall in his gray and black military uniform, but then looked down at his own datapad, grasping at the thing like it would suddenly blink and provide him a comfortably safe response. "But sir! The law is very specific. Colonel Phyre was able to allocate the distribution of his estate as he saw fit. You could dispute the case but the issue would be overseen by a judge. Such a case would most surely require years before it was finally decided! Years! They'd be grown before then!"

Goran snapped his head around to glare over towards a now smirking Dace Gredge. Dace asserted, "You can commence with your dispute. But that only means I'll take the girl and the boy tonight. As I said, decide quickly."

Pella looked tiny next to her husband. But the simple touch of her hand on his elbow was enough to keep him quiet. As if he was a stringed puppet, and she cut the strings that controlled his mouth. She lifted her chin stubbornly, "We are the only family the children have left. They will not want for anything." Pella frowned as a strange look skittered across Dace's face, wondered at the man's thoughts and intentions. Perhaps he had anticipated their refusal, of gaining the children's subsistence for himself, for himself to spend.

Not that it changed much, in the end. They were going to be forced to contend with both of them, regardless of their plans and intentions. Pella stared coldly towards Karen's boy child, the one she'd cried and whined was an utter failure. And she was right, since every single test was clear enough, that Khyriel didn't possess any abilities of his own. Nothing at all like his sister, no matter they shared coloring.

Worse, he looked exactly like his father. Pella had hated Lucian Phyre passionately. Almost as much as Karen had, although her sister had to live with the man, too. It was Lucian who'd destroyed Karen. She didn't care what anyone told her on the subject. If it wasn't for Lucian and his obscene obsession with some minor slave *****, her and her pathetic brats, then Karen would have never died so baldly, so bloodily.

It was almost enough for Pella to wish she could personally rip those runts apart. They'd died too easily, she thought. Pella would have to content herself with punishing Lucian's brat son, instead. Oh, he'd pay. For every slight, every insult and cold look and determined refusal to accede to to their control. For all of it. Khyriel would be a quivering mess by the time she was done with him.

Khyriel saw Pella smile at him, the slow promise in the twist of her lips as she stared over towards him. For only a moment, he shook all over again. And then the knot in his stomach finally burst. He actually felt it, like it was a spreading blanket that gradually filled him up inside. Until he was full and warm.

Certainty. That he'd be hurt. That these people weren't to be depended upon, counted on, for anything but pain and upset.

Knowledge. That he had no family, here. No one, except for the sister his father had given him, entrusted him to, and made him promise to attend and protect. The rest of them were good only for rotting in his disdain.

And determination. That the witch who shared his mother's blood was an enemy who would never be allowed to break him. He'd win over her, if he did nothing else, ever.

A Small Price to Pay

The Jeweled Manor felt deserted without Bronas to meet her. A pity we had to dismiss the servants… Elvira was once again surprised at how hard it was to pry the heavy doors open. Ah, all the wee challenges the less fortunate have to deal with. The sooner Aalric would correct their financial misadventure, the better. I will not stoop to using droids. This minor setback was worth it to accomplish the social triumph of her life. To think that Malar was now married into a noble House on Corusant itself! A minor House, and a younger son, but those were the details one need not mention. Besides, it seemed as near to a match of heart as it could be hoped for, and Malar was a Cathar, no matter how well off they were. Remembering her daughter’s grandiose wedding, Elvira once again thought that her estate as a dowry was a small price to pay. Oh, there were whispers and there were mocking stares, but nothing that she could not parry. Humans knew nothing of the art of verbal sparring, or any sparring for that matter. Humans, pah!

Speaking of art… where did this largish painting go?! And that awful but precious vase?! Why in blazes did Aalric decide to redecorate the house while I was away?

“Aalric?” She raced up the staircase to her husband’s study, hissing at the indignity of it. A maid is a necessity for any civilized couple! How is a lady of quality, a mother of a bride to the House of ---

Elvira stopped short at the threshold. Aalric, or his bleeding corpse, was sprawled on the floor. Why, even more pathetic in death than he was in life. Good thing he apparently got rid of the gorgeous carpet… Then the thoughts of polishing wood versus cleaning blood stains off carpets evaporated. A business end of a blaster was pointed at her chest. A hooded figure holding the weapon chuckled: “Look here, the entertainment value!”

“I assure you, this town offers a wide variety of thrilling activities,” Elvira smiled pleasantly. “I would be delighted to be your guide, if you would allow me. There is nothing quite like the local expertise—“

“Are you crazy or stupid?” he barked, his blaster unwavering. “This is a part where you beg for mercy. On your knees, hag!”

“Are you always working from the same scenario? I must say, I find men of your profession fascinating!“ Elvira was panicking, but the platitudes came easily to her trained tongue. She managed her best expression of sincere interest. Meanwhile the puzzle pieces started to click into places. She did not like the picture they revealed one bit.

“Tell me, my dear friend, just how long was my foolish man,” she flickered a gloved hand to her husband’s body, “borrowing from the Hutts?”

I am a widow. A widow. What a strange—

“I didn’t ask for details, lady. It’s a side job anyways,” the bounty hunter shrugged.

“Imagine that! If we are a low priority for you, your main engagement must be something quite impressive!” Elvira edged towards the figure and set admiring eyes on where his face would have been. All she could see was a scarred chin.

“You bet, lady! Don’t mean to boast, but it’s the Great Hunt on Hutta. A chance to make a name, you see?”

She nodded and leaned in to purr: “I am sure you will be the success story!”

The chin moved a tiny bit following her voice. As small as it was, it was all the opening she would get. Elvira took her chance and grabbed for the blaster. Claws ripped through the lace of her gloves and some strange instincts told her to step in closer, instead of running---

Closer, closer, closer... twist, jab, yowl!

They rolled on the floor, in a flurry of blows, blood and curses. She was blinded by the indignity and the deliberately applied pain. A lowlife was hurting her! On purpose! There came a muffled shot, and Elvira suddenly realized that nobody was kicking her any longer. Slowly, she got up on all fours, and pulled some air into her strained lungs. Did I really yowl? How embarrassing.

Now she was truly starting to hurt.

And to come back to her senses. She squatted by her kill to discover a young man, no older than her Malar. She sighed: war produced a fresh crop of hooligans, what with the orphans and all. Now he is just a thing. Just a filthy thing. Fortunately, we must have ranked low indeed among the Hutts’ priorities…

Elvira searched the man to find a contract and confirmed her guess. The sum was insultingly low. Alarmingly, it was issued to “whomever it may concern”. Fortunately, Malar’s name was not on it. Elvira spent a few long minutes studying the second datapad the bullyboy carried.

It was an invitation from someone called Braiden to the Great Hunt and was addressed to Misericorde. Hmm, the commoner or his parents must have had smidgens of education to come up with this moniker. Elvira stared some more at the hooligan. Judging from the state of the house, her possessions consisted of a name that had money attached in all the wrong ways. She also had a wedding ring that would buy her passage to Coruscant where she might beg Malar to shelter her. Or…

Or she will go check the cloak room to see if Aalrick in his feverish despair missed the costume she hoped to wear for a masque next month. It would be quite appropriate for someone called Misericorde, a future champion of the Great Hunt. Of course she would need something more impressive than a tiny blaster to go with it. I am a lady of quality, not a street thug.

Her decision made, Elvira rose and stepped over the two dead men and chuckled. Really, she much preferred men this way.

“It’s gotta be here somewhere,” an exhausted Kat muttered as she frantically tore apart her bedding, not caring about the mess or noise she made. When that search turned up empty, she crawled under the bed in hopes it slipped under there somehow, but the floor was spotless and devoid of anything. Fighting back tears, Kat scrambled out from under her bed, hitting her head in her rush to resume her search, “Kark!” she cried out, rubbing the now tender spot, already feeling a lump forming as she went over to her wardrobe cabinet. Heedless of the fact that she was uncharacteristically trashing her quarters, she began tossing clothes out as panic crept in, no, no, no…..it’s has to be here…..I can’t have lost it!

***

“Momma,” seven year old Tia asked as her and Kat sat on their parents’ bed. They were watching their mother get dressed for one of the fancy parties her and their father attended regularly, “Will I get to wear pretty jewelry when I grow up?”

“Of course sweetheart,” their mother smiled at them, bending down to hug them both, “and in just a few years, you two and Jakob will start attending some of these parties with me and Dad.”

“Really?!” Kat’s eyes widened as she and Tia exchanged excited looks. She reached out to touch the beautiful silver necklace that hung from her mother’s neck, “Will I get to wear this?”

“Someday this necklace will be yours, Kat,” their mother patted her head, “and Tia will get the matching bracelet.”

“Can we have them tomorrow?” Tia pleaded, touching the bracelet on their mother’s wrist.

“No darlings,” their mother shook her head, “these are very special and sometimes little girls lose things. They don’t mean to, but they like to play and bounce and do all sorts of fun stuff that might cause them to break or fall off.”

“We like to bounce a lot,” Kat giggled at her littermate, then she looked at her mother, “Why’s it special? Does it make you a princess?”

“No sweetie, it doesn’t make you a princess, but it is very old,” she laughed walking over to her dresser and grabbing a small wooden box. The box was intricately carved out of redwood and lined with wine colored satin, “as is this box. Many generations ago, your great, great, great grandfather gave this box to his wife and this necklace and bracelet were inside. He had the jewelry made especially for her and carved the box himself. It has been passed down from mother to daughter and when I was eighteen, my mother gave it to me.”

“And when we’re eighteen, you’ll give it to us,” Tia concluded, her tone hopeful.

“That’s right…..now, you girls go on down to the kitchen, I smell a special treat that’s just about ready for you and your brother.”

***

Kat sighed as she sat on her now rumpled bed. Her and Tia didn’t inherit their mother’s heirloom jewelry when they were eighteen. Instead, both their parents had been killed in an explosion when Kat and Tia were thirteen. For ten years, they thought they’d lost their other littermate, Jakob, as well, but a few months ago, they found out he’d survived and were reunited with him. Kat and Tia barely escaped with their own lives that day and while they were shoving clothes and credits in their backpacks, Kat spotted the antique jewelry box and grabbed it before they raced out of the building that exploded moments later.

“I’m positive I had it on earlier,” Kat closed her eyes and rubbed her temples as the downward spiral of the past few days played out in her mind.

Five days ago, just after finishing that blacklist bounty on Hoth, Bloodworthy had invited her and her crew to a huge celebration in a penthouse they’d gotten at the Star Cluster Casino on Nar Shaddaa the following evening. All of them ready for some pampering and one hell of a party, Kat eagerly accepted. She and Gault arrived ahead of the rest of the crew only to find Jewl’a Nightbringer and Bloodworthy’s corpses and what appeared to be the remains of the Defenestrator in the outer room. Using caution, they listened to the voices coming from the main room. Kat carefully peeked around the corner to see several SIS agents and a Jedi lying in wait to ambush them. One of the agents was talking to Jun Seros, the same Jedi master who set up the ambush on Quesh.

Dressed in evening wear, both her and Gault were minimally armed, but Kat needed to know what was going on and they had little time before Torian, Mako, and Blizz arrived. Months of her littermate, Tia, working behind enemy lines had rubbed off on her so Kat’s form fitting, floor length gown had slits up both sides, allowing for quick strides and combat movements if necessary. She also had a blaster strapped to one thigh and a small shield generator strapped to the other. Her intelligent and very sneaky companion had a blaster under his evening jacket, some flash bombs and a couple of grenades inside the jacket, and a vibroknife in his boot.

After making a quick plan, Kat entered the main room of the penthouse. The Jedi was very forthcoming right off the bat. They wanted Kat to surrender herself to the Jedi and face her punishment for killing Master Kellian Jarro. Kat refused, not because she was afraid to sacrifice herself, but because she had too much to lose by doing so…..she and her littermates still needed to deal with the few remaining members of Shange’s clan and she wanted the chance to explain her side of things to Jakob, who happened to be a Jedi himself. Also, she had her crew to think of…..she was certain Mako and Gault would be hunted down for their part in Master Jarro’s death.

Master Jarro’s death wasn’t completely her fault…..the Jedi was a Great Hunt target and Kat tried to explain that to him back on the Aurora. It didn’t matter if he killed her, the Mandalorians would keep coming after him. Kat told him her brother was a Jedi and insisted that he come with her, allowing everyone to think he’d died aboard the ship. She’d find a way to get him back to Tython where he’d have to assume a new identity and lay low. Unfortunately, Master Jarro refused her offer, tried to use a force mind trick on her, and attacked when it failed, forcing Kat to kill him. Already feeling awful for killing someone her brother likely knew and respected, she let his young Padawan go before rigging the ship to its doom.

Now, because of that stubborn Jedi, there was a huge price on her head and Master Jun Seros showed no signs of giving up his witch-hunt. It wasn’t safe for her to be anywhere, really, after the Supreme Chancellor made his awful broadcast the following day, accusing Kat of horrible crimes against the Republic, all of them blatant lies except the deaths of Master Jarro, and those that were killed when her and Gault made their escape from the ambush at the Star Cluster. Trying to cover their asses and avoid an incident, the Imperials made a statement soon after the Republic announced that she was public enemy number one, saying that they had no part in her attacks.

After those news feeds, Kat and her crew spent the next few hours making plans to lay low until they could find a way to clear Kat’s name, which in turn would clear the rest of them. Gault being an expert at hiding out and evading capture was quick to take control of the situation with his expertise. The first thing he’d strongly advised was to set up an alias for Kat and change the ship’s registry to reflect it. Having had several different identities in his lifetime, Gault told Mako what she needed to do in order to make the alternate identity plausible as soon as Kat came up with one. Once that was done, Mako would be able to fix the ship’s registration from any spaceport shipping terminal.

They were about to decide where to go when the ship’s Holo went off. That’s when things took yet another interesting turn. Darth Tormen, an ambitious and powerful Sith, requested her to come to his ship, offering her an chance to remove the price on her head. Leery of trusting him, yet unwilling to pass up the opportunity, they all agreed to meet with him aboard his ship, The Tyrant. A few hours later saw them docking on the massive Imperial ship and Kat boarded with Gault. Torian, Mako, and Blizz stayed with the ship, keeping it ready for a fast departure if needed.

As it turned out, Darth Tormen wanted her assistance. He had plans for Corellia and needed her to remove some of the more tricky Republic obstacles in his way, culminating in an assault on the Supreme Chancellor himself. In turn, he’d ensure her safety in Imperial space and pay her handsomely. Once Chancellor Janarus was out of the way, Tormen promised to use his vast resources to get the price off her head. Kat didn’t trust the Sith and had no desire to attack and further anger the Republic, especially considering both her littermates had strong ties there, so she refused until Darth Torman demonstrated that it wasn’t just her life on the line.

A horrified Kat agreed to his plan as the huge Sith sat there, calmly choking the life out of Gault as if it were a simple routine…..which it likely was for the Darth. She despised the fact that she and her crew were cornered and bullied into doing the Sith’s dirty work and vowed to make him pay someday, but first she’d play his game and work on getting her name cleared. After helping Gault stand, she patiently listened to Darth Tormen’s instructions and left, half dragging her still struggling to breathe crew mate back to the ship. The lanky Devaronian was heavier than he appeared and it took every ounce of the much shorter Cathar's strength to get Gault back to the airlock. Luckily, Mako and Torian, who’d been monitoring the entire meeting through a camera on Kat’s armor, were waiting at the entrance and they took Gault to the med bay while Kat headed for the cockpit.

They’d agreed earlier to make a supply stop on Nar Shaddaa where Mako could take care of reregistering the ship. Hutt space was hardly safer than Republic or Imperial space, but a little easier to remain anonymous. They would stop over just long enough to get some supplies and for Mako to change the ship’s registry, then head on to Belsavis where Darth Torman had his first task for them. As soon as she had the ship’s course plotted and in hyperspace, she set it on auto pilot. The young Cathar sat back in her chair, not yet ready to go to the med bay and face the fact that one of her crew, people she cared for, could’ve been killed, I should’ve insisted on going to that meeting alone…….or refused to go altogether, she sighed, the fear and guilt crushing, I should’ve known better than to trust that Sith! As usual when stressed, Kat reached for the comfort of her necklace only to find it missing and she raced to her quarters as panic slammed into her.

A warm, wet nose nudging her hand broke into her reflections and she absently began stroking the Akk dog’s furry head, “Whose a good girl?” Kat smiled weakly at the puppy she’d rescued back on Hutta, “Cocoa’s a good girl……you know Mommy’s sad, doncha…….oh wait a minute,” a thought occurred to her and Kat looked into those big brown eyes, “Did you eat Mommy’s necklace?”

Cocoa cocked her head as that large tail thumped on the floor. Luckily, she and Mako potty trained the pup quickly and since they were in in space, she’d be restricted to using the pet potty pads in the shower to take care of business. Kat didn’t look forward to what the next day entailed if their goofy pooch did in fact swallow her necklace, but at least she’d know where it was. Figuring there was only one way to find out if her precious heirloom was in Cocoa’s tummy, Kat patted her thigh, the dog’s signal to follow, and headed for the med bay to check on Gault and get the portable scanner.

“Stars,” Mako gasped as she carefully injected her patient in the neck with a kolto shot, “Wonder what’s going on up there…..it sounds like she’s wreaking havoc on her quarters,” she stilled when she felt movement against her small hand, “I wish I could sedate you for this and I know it’s painful even with the numbing agent, but try not to move, Gault…...the painkillers should start kicking in soon.”

As soon as she and Torian had gotten Gault into the med bay, Mako immediately ran the scanner over his throat. Gault was still struggling to draw breath, but luck was with them and nothing was permanently damaged. The swelling was the most immediate concern and the petite slicer who also served as the crew’s medic knew that needed to come down in order to open up his airway. She’d hoped it wouldn’t come to intubating him, but the kolto injections were going to be only slightly less pleasant. Even worse, she couldn’t risk sedating him because he’d had allergic reactions in the past. She’d stocked some newer ones, but they hadn’t tested them yet and she couldn’t risk an allergic reaction in the state he was already in.

“She seemed calm,” Torian grunted as he held the shaking Devaronian down on the bed in the ship’s med bay.

“She was holding it together, but I could tell she was close to losing it....she doesn't take threats to people she cares about lightly and to her, we're practically family,” Mako insisted, feeling the same way after her and Torian watched the Sith force choke Gault over Kat’s armor feed, “Hang in there…..you should be able to breathe a little easier in a moment. We’re lucky you didn’t need to be intubated, that would’ve been a lot worse,” Her patient blinked his yellow eyes in acknowledgement as he fought to keep still, “She needs to get some sleep, but she refuses to take anything.”

“Can’t blame her,” Torian empathized, “Don’t like being drugged.”

“Gault…..is the pressure getting any better?” she asked, keeping her voice soothing as she watched him blink his eyes once…..yes. “That’s good…..hold on just a little longer, I’m almost done.”

Torian had to admire the stamina the older male was showing and was starting to grudgingly respect the scheming former con artist. At first he’d thought Gault a coward, never wanting to risk his life in battle….was shameful to the Mandalorian. However, over the past few weeks, the young man realized just how sharp and deadly the Devaronian was. He might not be willing to charge into battle, but he had no reservations about killing when it was called for. No, the fast talking man used wit, words, and charm effectively, but when those failed, his sniper rifle finished the job. Not an approach Torian was used to or comfortable with, but he had to admit, the older male wasn’t someone to trifle with. Stronger than he let’s on, too, Torian realized as he had to strain to hold him still for Mako.

“Well, she’s going to drop from exhaustion pretty soon and that won’t do us any good,” Mako snapped, careful to keep her hands steady as she slowly pulled the injector out, “We all need some rest so we can deal with that horrible Sith’s task and work on getting Kat’s name cleared without bringing anymore heat down on us.” She started wrapping kolto strips around Gault’s neck, covering them with a linen wrapping, “Ok, you’re all set…..try to avoid talking too much over the next few hours and I’d stick to just liquids for now…..swallowing is going to be rough for the next day or two.”

Gault nodded at her, already breathing easier, and Torian helped him sit up, wincing as he touched the bandages. They heard more noise coming from Kat’s quarters upstairs and a worried look crossed Mako’s face as she grabbed an injector out of the cabinet and loaded a sedative into it, “I don’t care how pissed she gets, I’m drugging her now.”

“No Mako,” Torian argued, “I’ll do it.”

Gault shook his head and grabbed the injector from the petite slicer. “She’s not going to let you anywhere near her, Mako,” he rasped, “and Torian’s intentions are written all over his face. I’ll do it.”

“You’re not supposed to be talking, Gault!” Mako chided, “Besides, she doesn’t exactly trust you either.”

“Which works in my favor this time,” Gault retorted, his voice barely audible, “She always thinks I’m up to something so I’ll be a lot less suspicious than you two.”

“Got a point,” Torian shrugged.

“I suppose……just be careful,” Mako warned, “If she……” The sounds of someone racing down the stairs stopped Mako and Gault quickly pocketed the injector.

“TwoVee!” Kat yelled, then saw them in the med bay, “Oh, stars, I’m sorry, I meant to help you, Mako, but I got sidetracked.”

“Uh-oh,” Mako shook her head, seeing Cocoa behind Kat, “What’d she do now?”

“I hope it didn’t involve my boots this time,” Gault croaked, glaring at the creature currently sitting with its tongue hanging out.

“My necklace is missing,” Kat sighed, “I could’ve sworn I had it on when I left the ship earlier, but there’s a chance I left it on the nightstand and…..”

Mako grimaced, remembering when Cocoa swallowed a bracelet Braden had given her, “Let’s find out, then we can have TwoVee keep track of her……uh......piles.”

“Oh, he’ll be thrilled about that,” Kat giggled, then called out for the protocol droid as Mako got the portable ultrasound device out of the cabinet.

“I’m sorry, Kat,” Mako shook her head a few minutes later, “I went over her belly and abdomen twice, no necklace.”

“Dammit,” Kat cursed her voice wobbly as tears threatened again, “I was hoping she had it….”

“You wanted spend the next few days searching that thing’s poop for your necklace?!” Gault wrinkled his nose, unable to achieve his usual snarky tone since his voice nearly gone.

“At least I’d know where it was!” Kat cried and Mako fixed him with a glare, knowing just how much that necklace meant to her friend.

Gault and Torian looked at each other and shrugged, the latter having no idea why someone would be that upset over a necklace. Gault remembered seeing her wearing a sliver necklace when they went to that ill-fated party at the Star Cluster back on Nar Shaddaa, but he was sure he saw it on her when they made their escape. Then he recalled feeling a necklace under her cortosis when they were stuck in that elevator on Hoth’s orbital station. He barely suppressed a smile as that memory crossed his mind. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time since they were both focused on other things, but now that he considered it, he was sure that she’d been wearing the same necklace when they were stranded in that hut back on Tatooine. They’d gotten caught in a sandstorm and both had stripped down to their underwear to get the sand out of their armor and clothing and he distinctly recalled the glint of silver catching his eye, but still unsure of his fate with her, had been too distracted by her restless pacing, why would she be wearing a necklace under her armor?

“Oh, sweetie, we’ll find it!” Mako insisted as 2V walked into the med bay.

“You called, Mistress Kat?”

“Have you seen my necklace anywhere, TwoVee?”

“Not recently, Mistress,” the protocol droid answered, “It wasn’t on your nightstand when I cleaned your room earlier so I assumed you were wearing it as usual.”

“I’m pretty sure I was,” Kat sighed sadly, “but I think it fell off……the clasp was getting lose and I know I should’ve just left it, but……”

“But you like having it with you,” Mako finished, hugging her friend, “Don’t worry, we’ll find it…..I’m assuming the noise in your quarters was you searching.”

“Yes…..sorry, TwoVee,” Kat sniffed, feeling bad for ransacking her room, “My quarters is a mess and I didn’t find it anywhere.”

“It’s quite alright, Mistress,” 2V assured her, “I’ll go tidy it back up.”

“Okay,” Gault whispered hoarsely, wincing at the increasing pain, “I’ll be the jerk and ask……why would you wear a necklace under your armor? Don’t most women keep that stuff in a jewelry box most of the time and only wear it on special occasions?” Torian nodded his agreement and Mako rolled her eyes at both of them.

“I told you not to talk,” Mako chided, seeing him wince, “It’s only going to put a strain on your damaged throat and we’ll have to go through that fun process again.” She bit back a smirk when Gault blanched.

“I’m sure most do,” Kat answered Gault’s question, “but that necklace is all I have left of my mother……Tia has the matching bracelet.” She went on to explain about the necklace, the bracelet, and the jewelry box, “After Tia was taken into Republic custody and shipped off to the military, Val and I gathered all our possessions and took it to a pawn shop on the Promenade. We sold off everything we could to get enough credits to rent a place for a few months since Jessa’s old house wasn’t safe anymore and we needed money for info, armor, and weapons as well. It broke my heart to sell the jewelry box, but it was too big to carry around in a backpack and with the danger we were in at the time, we needed to be able to vacate any residence quickly. Val kept a few small trinkets from her parents, and I kept the bracelet and necklace. I wore the jewelry at all times until Val took over Foster’s ship, then I left the bracelet with her to give to Tia when we found her. I kept wearing the necklace because I liked having it close to me……I know, that’s silly.”

“Not silly,” Torian told her, “Mirjahaal….” The young Mandalorian sighed, trying to think of the words for it in basic, “Peace from losing cyare'se….buir.”

“Loved ones….mother,” Mako beamed, “I remembered that one!” Torian had been teaching Mako Mando’a and she in turn was teaching him Basic, “Your necklace is a way of remembering a loved one, your mother and it brings you peace to have it with you.”

Torain smiled shyly at the the crew's pretty medic, blushing a little as he nodded, “That’s it.”

Kat wiped her eyes and nodded at the Mandalorian, “Yes, Torian, that’s exactly what it does and I hate to part with it. Tia’s the same way……I don’t think she ever takes that bracelet off anymore after getting it back from Val.” Kat ran her fingers through her hair, the stress of the past few days getting to her, but she knew she wouldn’t be able rest until she found her necklace, “I know I had it after that disaster at the Star Cluster because I took it off to shower……and I remember having it on when we heard the wonderful news about how I’m now public enemy number one. I just hope it didn’t fall off while we were docked on The Tyrant dealing with Darth A*shole.”

Gault’s hand went to his tender throat at the mention of the Sith and he gave an involuntary shudder, “Let’s not worry about that until we have to……hopefully it’s on the ship somewhere.”

Kat looked at the Devaronian with sympathy, a chill running down her spine as the image of him being Force choked by Darth Torman crossed her mind yet again. She turned away from the group, blinking back tears and swallowing the lump in her throat at that thought. Kat would’ve been upset at the thought of that happening to any of them, but for some reason the thought of losing Gault was particularly painful....something that unnerved her a little.

“Come ‘on,” Mako squeezed her friend’s shoulder, “Let’s see if we can find your necklace so we can all get some rest before landing on Nar Shaddaa.”

They were about to leave the med bay when Blizz came hurrying in, “Droid says Boss sad. Blizz has something to make Boss happy.” The Jawa held out his offering, “Blizz find in Boss’s armor plates, see it broken. Blizz fix before plating. Pretty necklace good as new.”

Kat spotted the necklace in the his hand and sank to her knees, enveloping the little Jawa in a huge hug, “Oh my stars…..you found it, Blizz!”

“Boss happy again?”

“Yes,” Kat smiled through her tears, her relief apparent as she released him and stood, Boss is very happy. This necklace means a lot to me……thank you for fixing it.”

“Boss happy makes Blizz happy!” the Jawa clapped, “Blizz go fix armor plates now. Be good as new.”

“Boy am I glad he found it,” Mako sighed, smiling at Kat, “At least something went right today……now we can all try to go to bed.”

“Speaking of,” Gault rasped, reaching into his pocket as he walked over to Kat, “and please don’t hate me in the morning, but it’s sleepytimes for you.” Before the young Cathar could react, Gault tugged Kat’s cortosis bottoms down far enough to inject Mako’s sedative into her backside.

“What the hell?!” Kat yelped as she felt the sting of the needle, but the fast acting drug worked against her, “I’m gonna kick……..” They never found out what Kat was going to kick because she passed out before finishing that statement.

“Gett’se,” Torian grinned as he watched the tall Devaronian toss their leader over his shoulder and leave the med bay, Mako right behind him.

“Thanks, Gault,” Mako chirped as he deposited Kat on her bed, “Hopefully she realizes it was for her own good when she wakes up. Now, you get to bed…..your throat needs to heal. I’ll get her undressed, then heat up some juice for you…..it’ll feel good on your throat.”

Mando’a translations from http://www.mandoa.org/

Mirjahaal- peace of mind, *healing*, general term for emotional well-being especially after a trauma or bereavement

cyare'se- loved ones

buir- mother/father

gett’se- nerve, courage

A fairly inconspicuous Gault Rennow approached the pawn shop, wearing plain, slightly worn leathers, a blaster at his hip, and once again sporting two complete horns, having taken one that had broken off of one of the White Maw they’d killed on Hoth. The false horn had a small explosive device hidden inside just like his old one on Tatooine, a temporary disguise that served the dual purpose of functioning as a quick escape tool. He paused outside the entrance and the tall, lanky Devaronian’s face wore a look of dismay as he sat on a nearby bench and consulted his datapad. He reached for his flask, then scowled as he remembered it wasn’t on him. A very bossy, yet well meaning Mako decided to frisk him before they left and confiscated his flask and cigarra case, insisting that those things were off limits until his throat was completely healed.

After drugging their fearless leader, the rest of the crew had taken advantage of the six remaining hours in hyperspace to sleep, except him. Between an overburdened mind and the pain in his throat, the comfort of sleep eluded Gault. Instead he lie in his bunk, thinking about their current situation, trying to use his scheming abilities to find a way to keep them all alive until Kat could clear her name. For some reason, their argument before boarding the Tyrant kept replaying in his head.

“Explain to me again why I get the honor of going to this meeting?” he demanded as they entered the airlock.

“I’d prefer to go alone, but you know damn well that Mako and Torian would never go along with that,” Kat retorted.

“Then why not let one of them accompany you?” Gault shot back, “Why me?”

“Because that crafty mind of yours is always working, plotting, scheming and I need that if things go south,” Kat sighed, “If something happens to me, Torian would just get himself killed over his need to avenge me and Mako…….think about it, Gault, she’s young and pretty……you know what her fate would be.”

“You’re not exactly old and decrepit,” Gault snorted.

“No, but I'm a ‘dirty alien’ and they wouldn’t sully themselves on me,” Kat countered, “and I have every confidence you could smooth talk your way out of anything to save your hide…….Mako can’t and Torian won’t. As for Blizz, I’m not going to risk someone who just joined up with us……he’s not really involved in this whole mess, which is why I told him he was needed on the ship.”

“I’m still not exactly thrilled to tag along….”

"Well go back to the ship then,” Kat snapped, “or suck it up and come with me……I don’t care, but decide quickly because it’s go time.”

Of course he’d stayed with her despite the fact Sith gave him the creeps…….he didn’t want her to go alone either. She’d taken a big risk for him back on Tatooine and if he was the only one she’d allow to go with her, then so be it…..he’d lived a long life and he owed her.

He tried to sleep after Mako had brought him a warm, soothing glass of juice, but every time he closed his eyes, he felt that invisible pressure crushing his throat as that Sith’s orange eyes watched his useless struggles with perverse pleasure. The sheer terror on Kat’s face was burned into his memory as was her fearful plea to the Sith, ‘Stop it right now! You win…..I’ll do whatever you want……just please stop! You’re killing him!’

Gault had never heard that much fear in her voice, even when they were stranded on that elevator on Hoth’s orbital station and it kept echoing in his mind, stirring up emotions he thought he was no longer capable of. Sure, he’d grown fond of Kat and Mako over the past few months and considered them friends, Torian as well…..something very new for him. Tyresius didn’t have friends. Tyresius had connections and acquaintances, but never friends……friends were a liability to the greedy con artist. He’d briefly changed his mind when he hooked up with smuggler Hylo Visz in his younger years. The young Mirialan female got under his skin and the two of them enjoyed a torrid affair while working together for several years until the Mandalorian blockade of the Hydian Way. True to character, Tyresius took their earnings and split, knowing heat would be on them after their successful attack on the blockade, and Hylo was left with the aftermath. He abandoned her to save his skin…..the only woman he’d come close to loving……until now.

Remorse was another new thing for Gault, and not a pleasant one. As these feelings for Kat surfaced, remorse for Hylo tagged along. Regret weighed heavy on him and knowing he wasn’t going to sleep at that point, Gault had gotten up and left the crew quarters for his work room. He sat at his desk, making random sketches as his mind tried to sort out the tempest of emotions swirling in his head. He finally realized he needed to track down Hylo and give them both closure.

Gault knew he was never going to go legit or walk the straight and narrow, but since starting over, his path was slightly less crooked. Despite the honest success with the Super Spacer series, his crafty mind would always be thinking up a good con or the latest big score.....sizing up a possible mark. He just probably wouldn't act on it as he'd done in the past...well, at least not before seeing if he could persuade Kat to go along with it. After all, a good scheme was a terrible thing to waste. He respected her compassion for what Tyresuis would refer to suckers, and the fact that she didn't like to take advantage of those less fortunate. He knew it came from a good place and understood it to some degree, which is how the Super Spacer series came about, his first honest moneymaking idea.....and he had to admit, it was nice bringing in the creds without the stress of having to keep from getting caught by whomever he'd wronged. Yes, he was content, maybe even a little relieved to let some of those old ways go. However, the business with Hylo was a part of his past that he needed to deal with, he’d wronged her horribly and while Tyresius never cared much about that, Gault did and he needed to make amends before he could have a chance of happiness with Kat.

That in itself was also a big if…..he had no idea what her feelings were for him. Sure, they’d hooked up a few times, pleasant memories for him, and her he hoped, but that first time was driven by her cycle and his overwhelming relief at a fresh start. The other couple of times were just random situations and a grin crossed his face as he recalled that time he’d forgotten his sketchpad when they were all out spending time off ship while it refueled and they waited for information on the next big bounty. Gault had returned to the ship just in time to catch their fearless leader brazenly singing and dancing in her underwear. She was actually embarrassed to be seen like that, and tried to escape to her quarters, but in a bold move that shocked even him, he grabbed her by the arm to stop her, then kissed her. Needless to say, they ended up spending the entire layover in her quarters, barely making themselves presentable before Torian and Mako returned.

Then there was that time on Hoth’s orbital station. Their elevator shorted out and they ended up being stranded for nearly an hour. He found a very enjoyable way to take her mind off her fears and judging from the knowing looks on the workers faces, Kat and Gault were certain the maintenance crew heard them. His heart stilled as he suddenly realized he’d already started having feelings for her at that point, he’d just been too distracted to see if for what it was. That’s when he decided he wanted to take a chance, even if her feelings for him were purely physical, he still had to try. If a physical relationship was all he would be able to have with her, it would have to be enough because he’d be damned if he was giving her up…..he’d let too many good things pass him by in his past, but no more……not this time….not her.

As if an outside force were influencing him, he looked down to see what he’d been absently sketching and was floored to see a rough drawing of the jewelry box Kat had described to them earlier. The one made by her ancestor that had been passed down through the generations. She’d been forced to sell it six years ago and he could tell by the thick tone her voice took on and the tears in her eyes that it hurt her deeply to part with it. Looking at the sketch, he grabbed his datapad and started searching for pawn shops on Nar Shaddaa.

As soon he and Mako landed the ship, Kat still out cold from the sedative, they got ready. They’d decided to make the trip as quick as possible and tried to make themselves blend in a little better. The winner of the Great Hunt was easily recognized in the Underworld as was her crew since taking down that first Blacklist target. So they agreed to disguise themselves a little.

Mako, her short brown hair covered by a cap, wearing heavy makeup and plain clothes, left to slice into the spaceport’s shipping terminals and change their ship’s owner to the alias Kat came up with. Torian, dressed in plain leathers he’d borrowed from Gault, left with Mako, who was alternately giggling that his pant legs and sleeves were too long and oogling the fact that the leathers were a little tight on the broader Mandalorian. Torian was going to replenish their munitions supplies while Mako took care of the registry. Gault agreed to go to the Promenade to get the medical supplies and food from Mako’s list. That worked for him perfectly since he’d already planned on making a trip to the Promenade to visit the pawn shops in hopes of finding Kat’s jewelry box. Blizz was in charge of taking care of any repairs the ship needed and keeping an eye on Kat.

Gault glanced at his chrono and knew this would be the final shot. So far his shopping excursion had come up empty save for the supplies he’d gotten for Mako and had delivered to the ship. This was the last pawn shop on the Promenade and he wouldn’t have time to search the handful that were located in other sectors.

“This is the last shot,” Gault sighed as he got up, “Hope it’s a winner.”

Praying that lady luck was with him this time, he entered the store. This being his eighth shop, he had a good idea of where to look. Gault spotted several jewelry boxes in a small case, but none of them matched Kat’s description and he was about to give up when he spotted a small one all the way in the back on the top shelf. He moved the larger one in front of it and gently picked it up. A broad grin crossed his face as he looked down at the beautiful antique……he’d found it.

The proprietor approached and spotted the box in the Devaronian’s hands. Sizing up people was second nature to Gault and he noticed a sadness come over the shop keeper’s face when he asked to purchase the jewelry box.

“Are you certain you want that one? I have much fancier, bigger ones……”

“Nope, I’m certain this is the one I want.”

“No changing your mind?” the owner asked hopefully

“Sorry my good man,” Gault replied, “This is it…….but I am curious as to why you’re trying to talk me out of it.”

With a heavy sigh, he explained that he always kept it in the back on the top shelf, hoping no one would see it. He felt for the young woman who had sold it to him six years ago……she looked distraught at having to part with what he was certain was a family heirloom, but she had no choice. He vowed to himself to try and hang on to it in hopes she would return one day to buy it back. He knew the chances of her finding his shop were slim after he was forced to move his old shop two years back. This new shop opened a few months later, but was under a different name and in a new location. However, he still couldn’t bring himself to sell the box and really didn’t want to now.

“Let me guess,” Gault told the owner, “This young woman was a Cathar with cream colored fur and she had a pixie like Mirialan with her…..”

“That’s right!” the shopkeeper beamed, “You must know her!”

“I do,” Gault confirmed, “She’s a friend and I’d love to return this to her…..I’ll pay whatever you’re asking.” Stars, did those words just come out of my mouth?!

The shopkeeper was a fair man and got the feeling the tall Devaronian cared for the young woman who was forced to part with the lovely box all those years ago, “Tell you what, I’ll sell it to you for what I paid her for it.”

“You got a deal,” Gault agreed, excited to return the heirloom to its rightful owner.

****

Kat woke, groggy, disorientated, and ready to kill a certain member of her crew. She rolled over, needing to see her necklace right away and gasped. Her mother’s jewelry box was sitting on the nightstand! She sat up and grabbed the box, remembering every detail as she ran her fingers over the beautiful designs carved so painstakingly into the wood. Tears pooled in her eyes as she opened the lid to see her necklace resting inside. Just having those things with her made her feel better than she had since that ill-fated party.

She donned on a pair of shorts and a tank top, and noticed her body was a little more sensitive, well, that explains the moodiness…..my cycle’s finally coming, she realized, it’s about damn time! She figured she had a couple of days before it started, but was relieved it was on its way. While never being that regular, she was almost four weeks late this time, but she’d been under considerable stress these past few months and it was no wonder things were off.

She thought back to her last cycle when she got six days in before finally mating and that was with the target she’d spent those days chasing across Tatooine. Technically he wasn’t their target at that point, but their newest crew member whom, thanks to a clone he happened to have on hand and Kat’s sympathy, had been given a fresh start. That was one hell of a night, Kat recalled fondly, then started to wonder about the feelings she was starting to have for the former grifter. Tatooine wasn’t the only time they’d gotten together, and that in itself was unusual. Kat was rarely intimate outside of her cycle, but she’d had sex with Gault a couple of times since her last one. She was a little embarrassed as she remembered how close they got to being caught that last time in the elevator on Hoth’s orbital station, he certainly managed to distract me from my fear of the dark and small, closed in spaces.

Kat knew better than to let herself become emotionally involved with someone like Gault…..neither of them was exactly the settle down type, but his brush with death really spooked her. However, this wasn’t the time to put a label on her feelings or decide what to do about them. Once her name was clear and this threat to them was past, she would take some time for a little self-reflection and consider these newfound feelings carefully.

For now, they had bigger, very dangerous issues to deal with and with a sigh, Kat headed to the cockpit, taking the box with her. No one was there, but she noticed they were several hours away from Belsavis’ orbital station. She checked the ship’s log, noting that the registry now showed Zoya Balakova, an abbreviated version of her mother’s maiden name, as the owner. Kat noticed the ship had been stopped on Nar Shaddaa for five hours before leaving for their current destination. Glancing at the chrono, Kat realized she’d been asleep for nearly twelve hours and her amber eyes narrowed as she recalled why, that sneaky bastard……

She left the cockpit and went downstairs to find Mako and Torian having a language lesson in the crew quarters. She watched Mako struggling to pronounce the Mando’a phrase Torian was currently teaching her. Kat sensed that the young Mandalorian was smitten with her friend and knew that the feeling was mutual……not that she could blame Mako, the rugged, blond Human was certainly easy on the eyes, but too young for her tastes. While young herself, spending all those years living on the streets of Nar Shaddaa had a way of aging a person…..at least on the inside. A giggle escaped her as Mako blushed after faltering over the phrase again.

“Hey guys, sorry about getting all emotional before……my mating cycle is coming. With everything going on these past few days, I’d forgotten I was due….way overdue actually,” she admitted as she entered the room, then her full lips curved in a big smile as she held up the jewelry box, “Any ideas where this came from?”

“Oh, Kat,” Mako marveled, “Is that your mother’s jewelry box?”

“It is,” Kat confirmed, giddy as Mako and Torian admired the exquisite craftsmanship, “I take it you didn’t leave this on my nightstand then.”

“No,” Mako shook her head, having a good idea who it came from, “I never left the spaceport on Nar Shaddaa. Torian?”

“Wasn’t me,” Torian shrugged, “I replenished ammo stocks and came back to ship. Exercised Cocoa until take off.” Torian had decided to train their beloved pet to be a proper hunting dog and Cocoa loved the attention.

“I just can’t believe I have it back,” Kat told them, still in awe that someone found it for her, “The shop I sold it to closed a couple of years ago and I wasn’t able to track the owner down the last time we were there. I’d given up hope of ever seeing it again.”

“Well, I’m glad you got it back,” Mako smiled, her theory confirmed, “I don’t think Blizz left the hanger at all, but I can’t be completely certain. He’s in his little space in the cargo hold, tinkering if you want to ask him, but I think Gault’s your best bet. He was gone the longest and my supply list wasn’t that extensive. You can probably find him in his hidey hole working on the next issue of Super Spacer…….oh, and Kat, go easy on him. He’s been through a lot these past few days…..we all have and he gave you that sedative so I wouldn’t have to.”

“No promises,” Kat smirked and left to find him, stifling a giggle when she heard Torian ask Mako what a mating cycle was.

She paused outside the door, feeling a tug at her heart as she looked at the jewelry box in her hands. The fact that he’d taken the time to track it down on the little information she’d given them yesterday was truly touching and she couldn’t recall anyone doing something that nice for her before. Despite the fact that she wasn’t ready to examine these new found feelings for the former con man, someone who'd been scheming since before she was born, she had an urgent need to see him, touch him, to make sure he was alright shot through her. Without knocking, she went into the work room their resident artist had partitioned off with some of the proceeds from his highly successful graphic novel series. The creative genius himself was studying a layout he had taped to the wall while lounging on the cot he’d set up for when he needed a nap during those all night sessions of planning and drawing. Gault’s attention focused on her as she held up the jewelry box.

“Know anything about this?”

“Just a little something I came across while picking up medical supplies for Mako,” Gault, shrugged nonchalantly as he sat up, his voice almost back to normal, “Thought you might like it and be less likely to cause any physical harm to my well-being over that whole knocking you out thing.”

Way to remind her of that, idiot, he cursed himself as she approached, those amber eyes locking with his. He was about to brace himself for the worst when she leaned over him and smiled, her face inches from his, “Oh, I think I can forgive you for that,” she purred. Then much to his astonishment and delight, that sweet mouth of hers settled over his. Praising whatever deity was currently working in his favor, he pulled her into his lap, needing the contact, deepening the kiss when her lips parted with a pleasured sigh as wandering hands hastily found their way under clothing.

“How did you find it?” Kat asked a little while later. They were stretched out on the cot, Kat’s head resting on Gault’s chest as her fingertip traced a lazy pattern over his warm red skin, a thin blanket the only thing covering them. The older Devaronian might not be brawny like Torian, but that long, lanky body was strong and nicely developed, something Kat always found attractive.

“I just so happen to have a keen interest in beautiful things,” he replied slyly as he ran his hand down her bare back, enjoying the feel of that velvety soft fur under his fingers, “and I tend to remember details well. I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to keep the others awake, so I came in here and wound up sketching the jewelry box from what you’d said......then I looked up pawn shops on Nar Shaddaa and paid the Promenade locations a visit.”

“I went to the shop where I’d sold it when Mako and I were on planet taking out my second Great Hunt target,” Kat sighed, snuggling a little closer, “but it wasn’t there anymore…..it was a liquor shop and the owner said it’d been a clothing store before he rented the building.”

“It was in the last shop on my list and the owner remembered you,”Gault told her, his breath hitching as her hand wandered a little lower, “He tried to avoid selling it all these years by keeping it on the highest shelf behind bigger things.”

“I still can’t believe I have it back,” Kat murmured thickly, “I can’t even begin to thank you enough for finding it.”

“I could tell it meant a lot to you,” Gault shrugged, the need to make amends with Hylo first keeping him from giving voice to the feelings he had for her, “and you did allow me to start a new life, not to mention letting me model Killer Kat Babe after you….”

“You did that before getting permission if memory serves….”

“Yes, but you didn’t get too upset when you found out,” he gave her a cheeky grin.

“I think I was just so shocked that you found a legit moneymaker that didn’t involve conning anyone,” Kat retorted as she shifted her position a little, moving her leg so it drifted across his.

“Someone’s in a frisky mood,” he observed as that shapely thigh purposely rubbed a sensitive area, causing an immediate reaction, “not that I’m complaining.”

“My cycle’s coming,” Kat admitted, smirking when Gault raised a brow at her, “No, not here yet…..probably in the next day or two.”

“Maybe Belsavis won’t be so bad after all,” he chuckled, earning a pinch.

“Easy there, Casanova,” Kat rolled her eyes, “We have a job to do, remember?”

Gault’s hand involuntary went to his tender throat, the snarky grin fading,” Oh, trust me, I haven't forgotten.”

A pang of guilt lanced through her, “I’m so sorry for that……I should’ve never agreed to meet with Torman. At the very least, I should’ve gone alone.”

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for, Kat,” Gault replied, “You did the right thing going to that meeting…..we had to take a shot at getting the price off your head. As for going alone, you should realize by now that none of us……yes, me included, would’ve allowed that.”

“But I made you come with me…..”

“And you had very valid reasons for that,” Gault countered, “No, I didn’t like it, but you didn’t force me…..I could’ve gone back to the ship. So stop fretting about it.”

“I can’t,” Kat gingerly touched his neck, “I don’t think that image will ever leave me……you could’ve died because of me.”

“No, I could’ve died because that karking Sith likes to toy with people…….it’s what they do,” Gault protested, “and thanks to Mako, I’m fine.”

“None of us are fine,” Kat muttered against his chest, “Not until I can confront my accusers and get them to come clean about their lies……and void knows when that will happen.”

“We’ll get through this, Kat,” Gault ran his fingers through her short, thick hair, “and you’ll be free to take on targets and inspire new adventures for Super Spacer.”

“You had to fake your own death to be free of the price on your head,” Kat snorted, “I don’t want to do that……I want to clear my name.”

“True,” Gault conceded, “but unlike you, I was actually guilty of the things I was wanted for……makes a huge difference. We’ll get to the bottom of this, but until we do, we’ll just have to play whatshisface’s……what did you call him?”

“Darth As*hole,” Kat snickered.

“That’s right, we’ll have to play Darth As*hole’s game for now.”

“Thanks, Gault,” Kat whispered against his neck, carefully kissing the bruised flesh, “I actually do feel better now.”

“Well, I was willing to settle for a promise not to kill me for drugging you,” Gault groaned, as shifted their position, “But this is even better.”

Kat gave a husky laugh as she ran a teasing finger along his chest, looking down at him with a wicked smirk on her face, those amber eyes twinkling in mischief, “I don’t recall making any promises not to kill you…….”

“In that case, I’d like to go with a smile on my face,” Gault chuckled just before pulling her down to capture her mouth again.

Fun fact that I learned a few months ago when first plotting out the Kat/Gault romance, my icon on the swtor forums is Hylo Visz.

http://i1242.photobucket.com/albums/gg523/Striges13/VashutarlandVarrel_zpsc0d72fbc.png

“She is too young. She should not be here,” the young man said. He deactivated his blade and pushed to the front of the class. The students paused in their exercises and allowed him through.

Vashutarl stood stiff at the salle’s entrance. But before she could speak the class master interceded, “She passed her test, as have you, Petar.”

“She should not have had the chance,” he objected, “Only because her father runs the salle--” Petar began.

“Hsst!” Master Rusic interrupted. The rest of the class froze with him, a collective sharp intake of breath, “Have a care, Petar.”

“Should I?” the dark-haired youth marched up to Master Rusic. Vashutarl felt hostility flowing from Petar like a dark cloud. “I’m only saying what the rest of us think, only they’re too cowed to say it.”

She saw scattered slight nods from the older students. She had passed the test, even if it was two years earlier than normal. Her grip tightened on the vibrosword’s familiar hilt. An even more familiar hand rested on her shoulder and the strength of the old cedar tree flowed through her. She knew who it was before he spoke, “Do you? Speak your mind, then,” rumbled her Anfather’s voice.

“Master Umrahiel,” Petar said with a solemn bow.

“I see you remember whose house you are in,” Master Varrel Umrahiel said, “Now, what objections have you?”

Petar gulped. A quick sideways glance showed that whatever confederates he might have counted on were melted into the background, leaving him alone to speak. “Master Umrahiel,” he started, no longer quite so sure, “The two-daan test is not administered until age eighteen.”

Vashutarl stiffened. But the calm hand of her Anfather reassured her. “That is customary, yes,” Master Umrahiel replied, “The requisite skill is not usually attained until that age. I myself tested the first time at fourteen. I did not pass.”

There were scattered small giggles at his statement, quickly stilled. Petar’s lip twitched, “I meant no offense, Master Umrahiel,” he said.

“Ah, but you did,” Varrel insisted, “You suggest Vashutarl’s place here is unearned. That I allowed her to test because she is Umrahiel. That I passed her because she is my granddaughter.”

Petar bowed again, “I assure you, Master Umrahiel, I did not mean--”

“Do not lie to me,” Varrel commanded, “speak your mind or stay silent.” Vashutarl felt the steel in his voice. Fine old steel, cunningly crafted, like the ancient dueling blades he kept in the alcove at the head of the salle’s receiving room. It reassured her.

But Petar, the student, did not feel the same. His eyes flicked among Vashsutarl, her Anfather standing behind her, and Master Rusic of the two-daan class. Eventually, he screwed up his courage, “I do not think she should be in this class, no, Master Umrahiel.” he admitted at last.

There it was. The tight knot in her stomach. The one she thought she banished at the end of the examination. But she had passed, she should be here. She looked up at her Anfather, “Mas--” she started, choosing the more formal mode of address rather than the familial.

The comforting presence of his hand lifted from her shoulder, “Master Rusic,” Anfather stated.

Master Rusic bowed, “Yes, Master Umrahiel?”

“Choose one of your students,” he ordered.

“A student?” Master Rusic asked.

“Josif, Tijana, and Duica all ascended to two-daan within the past three years,” Master Umrahiel said.

Rusic kept his back to the class, “Tijana,” he called.

Another young woman stepped forward. Vashutarl remembered her. She sparred with Tijana when they were both still one-daan. She passed to two-daan a year and a half ago at the quarterly exams. She had a powerful arm, and now better reach. “Yes, Master Rusic,” Tijana answered with a proper bow.

“Shall we say, two of three points?” Varrel said, moving aside. Vashutarl gave a quick glance at him. “Show them you belong,” he said. Behind his curt words was the same strength as always. The same confidence. The cedar tree, the one in the garden, with the moss growing about its thick roots and the saplings coming up between them. Her ancestor’s blades, with the bright old metal and the ancient case of blonde wood where they rested, quiet and waiting and ready.

She belonged here. Vashutarl descended the two steps to the salle floor. The class retreated to the sidelines. Vashutarl gave the proper bow to Tijana, and the taller woman returned it. Then the salute. The click of the silent swords followed by their low droning hum on activation. For Vashutarl, the rest of the world was gone, only Tijana and her sword remained. Their swords tapped. Experimenting. Vashutarl sidestepped and deflected Tijana’s kote strike almost as the blow fell, scoring her own kote hit on the followthrough. They spun, on opposite sides of the salle now. Tijana would come at her fast, use her power and reach to score men. Even as she thought it, Vashutarl saw the other student’s weight shift in preparation of her run. She darted in under the blow, rapping Tijana’s practice doh and scoring a point for the strike of the same name.

“Two,” Varrel recited, “Another student, perhaps?”

“Josif,” Master Rusic called as Tijana retreated to the sidelines with the rest of the students. A lanky youth replaced her.

The same bow, the same salute. Of the three Anfather named at the outset, Josif had been two-daan the longest. He’d also been one-daan the longest. She scored on him easily. Master Rusic named a third student. Then a fourth. By the sixth, they were almost beyond her skills. She might score once, but twice was near impossible. They knew parries she did not. They practiced techniques she only barely learned. As she swatted aside a hybrid kata three that would have scored doh, something she’d seen her father practice, she realized she did not have to. She need only prevent her opponent from scoring. A tie was not a loss.

“Petar,” Master Rusic called at last.

They young man stepped into the space. Vashutarl bowed, her breath coming quick and fast. Her sword, usually a part of her arm, felt heavy and clumsy. She gave the proper salute and engaged her weapon. Petar charged in without any of the typical tapping and sizing up of the opponent. He was all sparks and smoke, a flash of lightning in the sky on a hot cloudy night. He feinted at men but did not fool her. She blocked the kote strike he intended, though his blade shivered along hers with a squeal until she thrust it off at the guard.

“No point,” Master Rusic intoned.

Sparks and smoke. Petar whirled without pause and darted back, his blade at midpoint. Kote or doh. Choose. Vashutarl parried doh. At the last second he altered his angle. She couldn’t change fast enough to match him. His blade buzzed against her right wrist guard.

“Kote,” Master Rusic announced, “Point.”

Petar didn’t pause. He spun on her again. A splash of lightning backlighting the clouds. This cut was doh. She raised to block. He brought his blade out and around, out of her reach, high for men, leaving himself open. Vashutarl ducked in under his arm, declining the easy point, and spun to parry the return blow she knew he threw. The one that would score doh and win him the match. Their swords locked together, the angry buzz of their meeting sending vibrations thrumming up her arms. Perspiration slicked her hair down dark against her head. She had not the strength left to force his blade away. Neither would she back down.

“No point,” Master Rusic said.

Petar broke the stalemate at his announcement, letting up his pressure and stepping away, “She does not fight to win,” he objected, “only to tie. A tie is not a win.” He shut off his training blade.

“Nor a loss,” Master Umrahiel said. All eyes returned to him. They had nearly forgotten his presence. “A student just ascended to two-daan should not be able to defeat a student with five years experience at that rank.” Petar flushed at the reprimand. Anfather was right. Petar should have scored on her easily.

Varrel strode down into the salle. “Vashutarl,” he commanded, drawing his sword. Unactivated, he addressed her with the challenge bow. She returned it, flicking her weapon off in time for the salute. He gave a one-handed salute, the blade in his right, high on the guard. Though Anfather had long studied the twin-swords style, in this instance his grip acknowledged her as a beginner. He did not need his left arm’s power. “Guard,” he said.

She was already in proper position. The remainder of the two-daan class withdrew further into the walls of salle. She knew the surge before he moved, executed the proper block as he moved through the form. A turn, a second stroke, again parried. Sparring with Anfather was always a joy. It was a dance, like a dance, the moves all proscribed but their order random. The waltz at season’s end. The slightest pressure, smallest tell, and they danced together with neither point nor mistake. She no longer thought, let the blade move where it will. These were the beginning forms, she realized, strung together as she might see at an exhibition. All the things she had to know to ascend to two-daan. The exam all over again, but not an exam. A dialogue. No rehearsal, no choreography long planned out. As partners who knew each other’s moves as they happened, not before. One mind. One heart.

At last Anfather lowered his sword, “Enough,” he declared, deactivating his blade.

Vashutarl followed suit half a heartbeat later. Only then did she feel the weight of the sword again, the damp sweat in her hair, her lungs burning for breath. Applause began from the corner, quickly caught up by the rest. Petar smouldered on the sidelines, his applause slow and grudging. Vashutarl caught Tijana’s eye; her appreciation was not feigned. One ally at least.

Anfather put up his blade. He fixed Petar with a dour glare, “I will hear no more discussion on the matter,” he said. He turned on his heel and ascended the stair to the hallway without a backwards glance.

Skii. The point of the training saber penetrated the hollow at the base of the young Human’s throat. His eyes went round with horror and surprise. He fell forward as she pulled away. His shining weapon deactivated as it spilled from his lifeless fingers. The corpse collapsed to the cave floor beside the massive bodies of the natives he’d gathered to his cause.

Smoke and shadow and white hot hate. Flashes of lightning in rainless clouds. Fading as the ground in the cave drank his blood. Vashutarl shuddered. Skii was dangerous, she knew it was. She didn’t want to kill him. Didn't want to fight him. Him or his savage protectors. Her introduction to the Jedi was not supposed to go like this.

"What's happening here?"

Vashutarl spun toward the new voice. “Master,” she began, more out of habit than recognition. She didn't know the Human approaching from the cave entrance. A man. Middle age to elderly. Grey hair. She snapped off the blade, leaving the cave filled with the sound of dripping water.

He knelt beside the injured Bith. “Nothing serious,” he rumbled, “He’ll be fine once I get him back to the Temple. And you?” he asked, turning his attention to Vashutarl.

“I’m fine,” she said, feeling anything but. This Jedi, for he could only be another Jedi, gave off an aura like Tython’s great trees, themselves echoes of the cedars on her homeworld. Comforting. Confident. “He said...” she began.

The Human met her eyes, “He said what?” he asked. No accusation. No disappointment.

“He called himself a true Jedi,” Vashutarl said.

He glanced at the corpse. His gaze flicked to the hilt of the lightsaber, rolled to a rest beside a stone. “No,” he said, standing and retrieving the saber, “he’s no Jedi. At least, not one of ours,” he said.

Relief washed over her. Perhaps she hadn’t ruined her chance after all. “Then what was he?” Vashutarl asked.

The Human examined the hilt. Turned it over in his hand. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was a Sith.”

“He’s no Sith,” Vashutarl replied with certainty. He was not Sith.

The man gave her an odd look, the cedar branches hissing in a sudden breeze, “You’re the new arrival, aren’t you?” He verified the Bith student was still unconscious before continuing, “Initiate Small Household Appliances from the outreach program on Nar Shaddaa? Relax,” he said at her obvious discomfort, “I’ve seen the file, but to the rest you’re just another initiate from the outreach program. We get all kinds from there, from pickpockets to pilots. Had one, always knew what sabacc cards came up after a shift. Never was quite sure if he picked ‘em or called them. I’m Master Orgus Din,” he said, “and very pleased to make your acquaintance. You excelled on the combat evaluations.”

“I--” Vashutarl wasn’t sure what to make of this Master, “--yes,” she agreed.

“You say he wasn't Sith. I know he wasn’t Jedi,” he said. Master Orgus Din curled his fingers around the hilt, “You defeated him with only a training blade?”

Jedi weren’t supposed to kill. She hadn’t wanted to kill him, any of them. “I studied vibrosword for many years on my homeworld,” Vashutarl admitted.

“I’d like to discuss that with you sometime,” Orgus Din said nodding, “But now is not that time. I’ll make sure this padawan gets back to the Temple for treatment. And collapse this passage. That should stop the attacks here. You have other trials, Initiate Vashutarl,” he said, resting a guiding hand on her shoulder, “but I’d very much like to speak with you when you reach the Temple yourself.”

The strength of Tython’s trees, tall and straight, their tops snagging the clouds. A fine old sword, not the vibroswords familiar to her, but a sword nonetheless. “I’d like that,” she replied.

“Go now,” he said, pointing toward the exit, “but I’ll see you soon.”

Vashutarl bowed to him. Showing respect. Before darting back up the passage even as the ground rumbled beneath her feet. Show them you belong. Anfather had never once said that to her on Dromund Kaas.

@ Caernos- RE: Simple Jobs- doesn't sound that simple to me, but obviously Jayde's done thsi before. I wonder what she wants the pearl for.

RE: Another Day, Another Credit- Poor Delia! I think her life is probably headed for some sort of disaster at this point, between the loveless marriage and the full-on shift in the rest of her life.

@Yoshi- I didn't know about Jasin's status. Cool!

@DomiSoto- Certainly not your typical BH! I'm sure Elvira will be super interesting to play

@Striges- The Jedi Knight is the Sith Warriors granddaughter? Oh, complications! I haven't played a warrior yet, but I've always kind of got the vibe that those are the two classes that most directly oppose each other. And you got Orgus Din (sp?) perfect. My dad played for a while near launch, and he always used to call him "The Cowboy Jedi" because he was so casual about everything.

Feyte strokes the beads around her neck. Each one is black, shiny, perfectly synthsilk-smooth, like the pool in front of her family’s house on a still night. Her and Sileena used to swim in it. She wonders what her sister would say if she could see her now.

The Jedi Academy is huge. Just the dining room is larger than her entire house. Its stone walls echo with students’ laughter and conversation and Feyte wishes she could join in. But they don’t notice her staring at them, eyes wide, trying to take in every detail of their appearances. So many species! She’s read about Zabraks and Cathar and Twi’leks before, but it’s far different seeing them in person. How do they keep their headtails from getting caught in doors and dragging in their food?

Feyte is too excited to eat, so she just sits there. Soon, a bell rings and students all around her jump up and start taking their plates toward a window by the line for food. Following their example, Feyte scrapes the scanty remnants of her meal into a bin and hands her dishes and flatware to a droid.

Her shyness falls away in a flush of excitement. Her first class is about to start! She follows the tide of kids out of the dining room. They run or jog or walk in a dozen different directions, leaving Feyte alone.

Where is she supposed to go? A nearby door is open, but the people in there all look older than she is. A girl with dark hair scraped into a tight braid is wearing a blindfold and twisting herself into elaborate shapes that Feyte can’t hope to match.

She doesn’t think she’s supposed to go into the next room either. This one has kids hardly older than her little brother. An aching sadness fills her. She wants to go home. This place is too quiet, too ordered, too calm.

Someone is coming up behind her. Even before she can hear his strong footsteps, she knows he’s there. The Jedi said that’s why she was here; the Force, he called it. She turns around.

The man is human, tall, with dark hair turning grey and a small beard. Feyte only comes to his elbow. “What’s your name?” he says.

“Feyte.”

“Good, I found you. You didn’t come to class, so Master Kita sent me to see if you were lost.”

“Thank you, master”

He smiles, just a bit. “I’m not a Jedi Master, young one. It’s just Jedi, Jedi Bakarn. Why don’t you come with me?”

“OK.” Feyte follows him down the hall to another classroom. The door to this one is shut, and she can hear soft voices coming from it.

“Here you go,” says the Jedi. “And next time, use the schedule we gave you.”

Oh. That’s what the paper she had left in her room was. “I don’t have it.”

“Ask Master Kita to show you where to go, then. Hurry, you don’t want to be late.”

Feyte opens the door and enters, trying not to disturb anyone. The human woman at the front notices anyway and stands up. “Welcome, young one,” she says.

“Hello,” says Feyte, waving. She feels her face getting hot. There aren’t this many kids in her entire school back home!

“Please, sit,” says Master Kinta, gesturing to a pillow on the floor. “We were just about to begin our meditations.” Feyte does so, imitating the cross-legged posture of the Zabrak boy next to her. The cushion is thick and squishy, and she shifts back and forth a little to feel it under her. Master Kinta laces her fingers together and closes her eyes. “Now, breathe deeply, eyes closed. Keep your mind on the Force, and it will find you.”

She quiets, and after a moment, Feyte opens her eyes and gasps. The Jedi Master is glowing with a bright gold aura, like the sun. She looks from side to side. None of the other kids are glowing, but they all feel calm and smooth. Feyte closes her eyes again and tries.

Nothing happens. She looks up. No one is watching her, so she stands up and goes to inspect the Jedi. What's she doing?

As she approaches, the Jedi opens her eyes. "What's wrong?"

Feyte feels a blush heat her cheeks under the geometric tattoos as some of the others look at her. "Nothing."

"Then please sit down until the lesson is concluded."

She watches as Feyte returns to her pillow and crosses her legs again. Feyte concentrates harder, clenching her jaw and twisting her fingers together. Still nothing.

The Jedi is standing over her. “Calm down. Try to relax.”

She takes in a deep breath. "I can't do it."

"It doesn't always happen the first time. Just keep at it, and I'm sure you will."

Feyte remembers the focusing rituals her mother used to do. How did they work? She closes her eyes again, concentrating on her breathing. Everything else fades away, and then, suddenly, she feels the spark that she's touched in uncontrolled moments before. She lets out a squeal of delight.

The contact vanishes almost immediately, but elated by her success, Feyte keeps on searching until the end of class.

When Master Kinta dismisses the kids for the day, her sadness returns. What will she do until dinner time?

The Zabrak runs up behind her, a blond human girl beside him. "Wanna go swimming?" he says.

"Where?"

"In the pool. Come on, it'll be fun!"

"Sure!" Feyte smiles and follows them. Maybe this place isn't so bad after all.

@Yoshi: I loved seeing Bendick in the story and that he and Prudii made their piece in the end. Interestingly, I have never let the pirate live. Also, the piece with Jasin and Gareb taking their home back was great…..loved the feels of that last line.

@alaurin...wow. Laughed so hard at Doc in the first piece and the second one was awesome. Hope he finally gets the point!

@DarthSillyMonkey: GAH! Fenn’rys strikes again! And I felt bad for Flingeld the first time around……poor guy!

As for Doc…..apologies to your monitor for getting pepsi sprayed on it. Yeah, I can just see him doing that, which is why I had to write it. That little chat was a long time in coming.

@marissalf: Awww, I got choked up with the thought of Melodai giving herself up to the Kiliks. Somehow, I don’t think she’s going to end up a permanent fixture there……hope we get to find out soon! Then the love letters piece got me in the feels…..*sniff* Very nicely done.

@alaurin, Damn, Ros is able to get Doc to not only apologize but agree not to flirt anymore? My new hero!

@Phyreblade: I really like how Jessa dealt with Gratham’s daughter…..that little snot! Also, that is a very interesting dynamic you have on the SW ship/crew. Then in the next story, I liked the protective brother/sister bond that Khyriel and Lusiel have. I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like to grow up with such a cruel parent and later, aunt. I feel for poor Khyriel being left in her care at the end.

@TrystanLaryssa: Awww, hope you get back to the forums soon! I loved your story and that particular Padawan definitely would require a lot of patience. It was fun to see him as a student and I think he’s got a good teacher.

@Alaurin: Nice few pieces about Doc. I read the Letters one and the follow-up and oth showed an intriguing point of view when it comes to the character. I have heard he's a bit... overbearing with his filrting, and this was an intriguing take. I'll have to follow up on your continuing story next round!

@Striges: I really liked that Inheritance piece……her grandfather’s words echoing in the last lines. I liked how we got to see her early training with Sith, followed by the later events when she first arrives on Tython and her recognition of DS forces.

@Alaurin: I remember the smuggler quest with the shanjaru. Then Tia gets the last laugh. Do not underestimate a determined Cathar.

@Mirdthestrill: I loved seeing Yuon again and I can imagine they have a lot to catch up on. I also would’ve liked more interaction with her throughout the storyline, but she just seems to disappear from the JC’s life after Act 1. Also, loved Feyte’s first days on Tython, a sweet piece that captures the awe and excitement of a child experiencing so many new things….a new adventure.

@Caernos: Jayde seems like quite the character…a force using thief….I like her!! Then, SQUEEE!!! I’ve been waiting to see more from Delia! I feel so bad for her and it can’t be easy having so much of your life uprooted in such a short time. I hope things get better for her soon, but considering who she married, I’m not sure that will happen.

@Alaurin: Alaurin are you going to manage the prompt archive as well? I tip my hat to you as well as it is very gracious of you to maintain the Story index and the prompt archive

Today is the day. It was never really a set day until recently but a day long coming. It was conceived when I was six years old when I realized my dream was to travel among the stars and make a name for myself. Unfortunately my parents had a different dream for me. They wanted me to be a politician, a noble, the heir to become the head of House Thul. I had no desire to rule nor wanted the responsibility or power.

Naturally I resisted at first but my parents were adamant and would not budge from their position, going as far as punishment and confinement. It was then that I realized something. I began accepting the classes required of me and the other training they had me do. At least I pretended to. It was an act, a hoax. I feigned interest in what they wanted while I managed to pass off my real goals as hobbies. My parents had hobbies, why can’t I? I made mine astrogation and ship mechanics.

While they lectured me on how to bring good standing and honor back to a House disgraced since the Old Republic I began acquiring skills and assets to begin my new life. This meant extra classes, side jobs, shady deals, and secret meetings. Once they set my ascension a week after my birthday I knew when I had to leave. All debts have been paid and arrangements made. My passage out of here is guaranteed. All I had to do was bade my time and wait. Wait for the day.

Today is that day. I can barely keep my excitement in, let alone hide it. I step out of the taxi with a briefcase in my hand holding the few things I need and simply can’t part with. In my white flightsuit with a duster over it and my helmet on, no one would recognize me. I make my way through the spaceport until I come upon my destination, Docking Bay 47. A protocol droid is there to greet me. “Can I help you sir?” it asks as I approach.

“Authorization code 569TP,” I said not missing a beat.

“Code accepted. Enjoy your ship,” the droid said and left as I walked through the entrance.

I take a moment to glance at the ship. My ship. It was a light freighter, nothing special, yet it didn’t need to be. It was the first thing I really owned and I will make it show in due time. Now was not the time. I had to get out of here. They will be looking for me soon. I enter the ship and take a seat in the cockpit as I start it up. I could feel the engines revving up even in my seat. I smile with joy. Finally in my own starship. Finally able to achieve my dream.

Suddenly there was a loud thud as something hit the cockpit window. I couldn’t tell what it was but it looked like a person. I debated whether to simply just take off but something told me to go see what it was. With vibrosword in hand I stepped out the ship and crept toward the where the window was. On the ground was an armored woman. I can only tell from the design of her armor for she wore a t-slit helmet. She wore yellow plated armor with black stripes going down her arms and back. There was a smoking hole in her jetpack, explaining her rough landing. She wore a yellow scarf around her neck.

If I hazard a guess I bet she is Mandalorian. If she was shot in the back she must be escaping from something. She looked to be unconscious. I cautiously took off her helmet to see the extent of the damage. It revealed a lovely pale skinned face with thin lips and black hair with blonde highlights. Or blonde hair with black highlights I can’t really tell. Even though she wore no makeup like every other girl I met, she looked beautiful. I don’t know why. All I knew though was that I had to take her with me. If she got shot after all she will need to get out of here.

I dragged her on board and closed up the ship. Everything was green. I had no doubts that this was what I wanted. I grabbed the controls and lifted the ship out of the spaceport. Out of the atmosphere. Out of the only place I have ever known. Today is the day I explore the unknown. Today is the day I leave home. Today is the day I begin my new life as Jet Chain.

There may or may not be a sequel in the works.