@Kitar: Little Ka’van is adorable! And I liked the conversation between Pierce and your warrior. She really put a lot of thought into her pregnancy.

Did I mention I liked Ka’van? He’s an unusual Jedi, but an interesting character. The note for Jax was really funny.

@ Jokad Glad you liked little Ka'van, I like him myself. One of these days I will get around to writing more about him and his childhood. As for Kit well one really has to be careful, especially when it would be so hard to defend yourself. I honestly had problems trying to put on dress boots for work during my late pregnancy. I cant possibly imagine trying to actually do something as strenuous as fighting.

@Kitar: You know I loved those pieces! Ka'van as a boy was so cute and his interaction with Kit'ar was very touching. I loved his secret hiding place in the stuffed toy! Then his gift for Jax was priceless......and he totally would be thrilled with the idea that one of those beasts had been used to make stuffed animals! Somehow I'm picturing Risha walking in on him cuddling it in his sleep.....

@ Alaurin Hon, I have honestly forgotten what I was going to say to you. I am pretty sure I have already told you, a long time ago. But so I don't have empty space, I shall link something that I am hoping Santa will bring me this year. When I found it on the net I made a very high pitched squeal. It was as if they had read my mind! Minus the cool hidden compartment but hey no one is prefect http://www.entertainmentearth.com/prodinfo.asp?number=CM64004#.VB3oGBawRrt

Comments and replies:

@Kitar: Your SW seems to be very confident to be able to convert the boy, who btw is adorable, to the dark side after the Jedi trained him. He definitively has a mischievous streak. After your first story his gift to Jax gets some more facets. It'll be interesting to see what happened in the time between those stories. What did Kitar do and why is Ka'van still a Jedi?

@Frauzet Oh I’d love to fill you in as to what exactly transpires between those two. Honestly the only thing I can say is, Kit took a page out of her deceased Master's book and has learned the importance of a set of strategically placed eyes. She does care for the boy, very much. It was his decision to stay, but that is why he was put in that position in the first place.

@Kitar: Not many SW throw Quinn over completely for Pierce; Kit’ar sounds so happy with her choice. I liked her intro with Ka’van, that she’s so confident she’ll meet him later. I also liked Ka’van’s insight with Jaxin later. Jedi get slammed so often--in fic and otherwise--as being stuck-up knowitalls. Ka’van’s insight and help is more subtle, and hopefully just what Jaxin needs.

@Striges Oh I never trusted Quinn. I was quite upset when I found out Pierce was not romanceable. When the incident happened, the string of foul obscenities I hurled at my monitor was pretty impressive my husband had to come find out why I was so upset. Ka'van is far from a know it all, I honestly had to get creative with how I played him... I have tried three time to make it through the JC story line. If it wasn't for Alaurin, Ka'van would still be languishing away in a swamp on Taris.

@Kitar

Oh! Thumbs up for Akaavi in the fiction! I was really disappointed in the game with her dialogues being so boring, while her presence and personality being so enigmatic. I loved her in your fiction much more! An interesting piece overall, cooperation and trust, and interactions: the very spirit of the game captured.

I like her as well, I will admit that her conclusion at the end was more inspired by joking that had been going on in vent more than anything else. Though I do think I might end up, at some point, including her more.

“You want us to do what?” Ka'van growled staring at the blue slip of a woman before him. The mouthy bossy Rutian Twi'lek who was now insisting that they board a shuttle and fly to the massive dreadnaught. Beside him Jax shifted, crossing his arms as his grey striped brow arched. Ka'van glanced at the massive Cathar out of the corner of his eye; it was met with an equally cool blue gaze. This woman had just ordered them to space the engineers to gain access to the bridge of the ship and now she was just as casually telling them to board the attacking capital ship and disable its tractor beam. Ka'van's frown deepened. For a diplomat she had a rather broken moral compass. Oh how easy it was to order other people to their deaths. “Will you be joining us, you do seem to have an excellent knowledge of the ship's layout.”

“That would be an excellent idea, the faster you disable the tractor beam and return the sooner we can get out of here.” Haken looked to Jax, hopeful.

Ka'van shot Jax another look; the Cathar was watching the Vyn and Haken converse in hushed hurried tones. He suppressed a sigh; he knew that his friend didn't want the Twi'lek to go with, he knew very well Jax was still trying to deduce a way to seduce the woman into his bed. Unfortunately that was just not in the pazaak cards for tonight, Ka'van knew, not that he would hold it against his rather amorous friend, everyone had their weaknesses.

“Well,” the Twi'lek sighed, “it appears I will be going with you, the First Officer here was rather generous and has offered me a uniform.”

“It was the least I could do,” Haken smiled, but there was no warmth behind it. “Spare uniforms are kept in the supplies locker, its down the hall, a left down the first corridor you see, then an immediate right, second door on the left. Though I would be quick about it.”

The Twi'lek rolled her eyes, “Of course I will be,” she quickly moved away from them, the tips of her lekku twitching in poorly contained aggravation.

Ka'van bit the inside of his cheek to avoid laughing. Beside him Jax moved, “Here, I will come with you, should go faster with the two of us.”

She looked up at the rapidly moving Cathar, nodding, before continuing down the hall.

Ka'van watched their retreating forms, when the Captain cleared his throat. “Jedi, I wanted to have a word with you now that she is gone.” Ka'van shifted his attention to the smaller man standing beside him. “We both know the Grand Moff will not stop until he gets what he wants, even if the tractor beam is disabled he will follow us. He wants that Ambassador.” The Captain cleared his throat, “I was told by the boys down in Engineering what she asked you to do. I will not risk any more deaths on this ship for a woman who is willing to sacrifice good men, especially since there was another way.” His lips became a stiff line as he shook his head. “I wont.”

Ka'van turned to give the man his complete attention. “You want her to remain upon the ship?”

“I believe it is for the best yes, Kilran will not stop until he gets what he wants.” Haken drew a deep breath, preparing to defend his stance.

Ka'van held up his hand, “I am in agreement.”

“Oh you are,” the man blew a revealed sigh, “I wasn't sure. Your friend seems awfully taken with her. I didn’t know if you would be open to the suggestion. I thought you might, since one does not usually see a member of your Order traveling with a privateer.”

He allowed himself to smile, a small one tugging at the corner of his lips. “We don't always see eye to eye. Do not worry I can be creative when it comes to situations like this, I don't want to upset him either.” Ka'van turned his head towards the corridor, they were returning, he felt their signatures steadily grow stronger. Nodding to Haken he raised his black hood, patiently waiting for his friends return.

The mouthy Twi'lek returned dressed in a uniform, her headband missing. Ka'van shook his head as he regarded the woman. She was a headache he hadn’t wanted to deal with and now they were headed into the belly of beast he did try to avoid. “I trust you found everything you needed?”

“Yeah, we did,” Jax muttered, “Lets get this over with.”

The Cathar turned and headed to the ships shuttle bay, the Ambassador following close behind. Ka'van exchanged a look Haken before moving to catch up with his friend.

~*~

"I don't like this," Jax growled.

"We will be fine," Ka'van responded, eyes still closed, hands clasped in his lap.

"Fine? We are flying blind into an extremely hostile situation and you are sitting there napping," Jax growled. Beside him, on the rigidly uncomfortable seat, Ka'van heard leatheris creak.

"I am not napping."

Jaxzin grumbled something under his breath. Creaking again reached his ear as the Cathar shifted in his seat.

"I am sorry could you repeat that? Not all of us have such sharp hearing." Ka'van kept his face neutral.

"I said, could have fooled me." Leatheris whispered against fabric. "So what are you doing?"

"Preparing."

"Yeah right," Jax mumbled, "you were napping."

"No, my friend, I was preparing. Following some very good advice, to never enter combat with a clouded mind."

"Huh who told you that?"

"My Mother."

"Your mother?" Ka'van nodded. "I thought you Jedi, didn't speak to your family after you were accepted into Jedi school."

Ka'van let a smile play on his lips. "I'm afraid I'm not very good at following rules. I find it more entertaining to break them."

"So you talk to her often?"

"Not as often as I like, but we keep in touch." Ka'van exhaled through softly pressed lips. "We will be landing soon."

"How do you know that..."

Overhead a voice crackled over the intercom, interrupting him. "Coming in hot, prepare for landing. Don't know if these Imps are throwin' a welcoming party."

Jaxzin shifted again in his seat, the dull creak of leatheris followed by the low pitch whining of charging blasters. A dull scrape echoed off the floor as Jaxzin stood. Ka'van waited head bowed, hands clasped. As the Cathar moved away he breathed deeply; collecting his thoughts, absorbing the Force he had been channeling, the dark smoky pulse comforting. Satisfied he exhaled through parted lips; cracking open his eyes he glanced at his wrist, catching his reflection in the thick bracelet that encircled it. Blue, very good, he smirked at his reflection, it was always wise to be prepared.

He reached the boarding party moments later, Jaxzin was standing alongside the Twi'lek, they were hanging onto security straps. Within moments the shuttle set down hard, the gangplank lowering before the shuttle even came to a complete rest. The collected Humans and Humanoids exploded into action, running down the moving gangplank utterly quiet. They moved off to the right using the shuttle as cover. Silence reached their ears; amazingly no one was waiting for them in the hanger bay.

“Quick, this way,” Vyn whispered pointing, peeling off away from the group and heading down an unfamiliar corridor.

“Stick with her,” Ka'van nodded to Jax, “I sense something.”

“What?” The Cathar hissed, “Stars, don't go wandering off!”

Ka'van smiled, “I will be just fine, go quickly I will find you.” He moved briskly, suppressing a chuckle as he heard his friend sputter about aggravating Jedi. Silently he moved down the hall, ducking into a shadowed alcove. Scanning the wall, he found a slightly recessed panel, smiling he pulled out his datapad. In a few keystrokes he located what he was looking for, removing a small dataspike from his robes, he slipped it into the panel. The datapad's screen lit up; schematic information flashing. Tapping the screen he slowed the onslaught of information. Slowly scrolling through the blueprint, he grinned, the lift he needed was right ahead; minus a couple turns it would take him exactly where he needed to go. Removing the dataspike he slipped down the corridor.

The trip was sadly uneventful, though that was not surprising; everyone was off on other parts of the ship. He had thought to encounter some measure of resistance though. Shrugging Ka'van smoothed his robes, pausing in front of the locked door. Briefly closing his eyes, he brought up his hand he reached out searching for the locking mechanism. He had considered simply keying in the entry code but that would be to revealing. It was best to keep most his cards hidden. Obediently the door slid open, retreating into the wall.

Before him was a large room, dimly lit under auxiliary lighting. Large screens adorned the walls, showing the multiple camera feeds from the entire ship. As he looked he watched the small force in the engineering room, furiously working before a terminal; Jax crouched down watching the door blasters drawn. A fully armored squad of Imperials were methodically working their way down a hallway scorched from blaster fire and munitions, medical personal assisting the wounded, slowly moving the deceased. From the looks of it the Imperials would be reaching his friends position in roughly ten minutes. Ka'van frowned. Not quite enough time, unless the Force was truly with him today. Well it was about time to find out if it was.

Ka'van moved cautiously through the room, the audio feeds had been lowered; the sounds of combat had been reduced to nothing more than white noise. Hopefully his hunch would prove fruitful, that he would find what he was looking for up here. He didn't dare reach out and use the Force, as far as he was able to tell, the other Force users aboard the ship had not detected his presence. He wanted to keep it that way. A smile played along his lips as he passed a bank of terminals, there sitting in a chair, back to him, eyes locked onto the monitors was the very person he was looking for.

He paused a respectable distance away from the seated figure. Clasping his hands behind his back he looked over the little alcove, waiting. He didn’t have to wait long. The figure stirred, slowly standing. The Moff stared him down, frowning, “It is rather rude to just barge in.”

“My apologizes,” Ka'van held up his hand, “We did offer to holo ahead, I do recall that you dismissed the suggestion, stating it was unnecessary.”

Kilran's brow momentary jumped before smoothing, “What is it that you want? I know all your friends are furiously working on disabling my tractor beam as we speak.”

“Yes,” Ka'van frowned, “I have noticed that as well. I have come here completely on my own, I assure you. To offer you a … deal.”

“A deal?” the Moff echoed. “What is it that you propose?”

“Honestly I wish a trade, I know you by more than reputation. You will not rest until you are satisfied. I simply offer you the Ambassador you seek for all of my crew.” Ka'van clasped his hands. “I do think it is a fair trade.”

Kilran laughed, “Why would I want such a trade, in mere minutes my troopers will have breached engineering and captured the entire lot.”

“It is quite simple, Grand Moff, we all serve in our own way. I do not wish to suffer such a setback that losing my... privateer will cause me. He is quite effective.” Ka'van stared the Moff in the eye, holding his grey gaze with his blue one, slowly he allowed the accumulated Force to manifest. If the Moff was surprised when his eyes melted from storm blue into a blazing orange he gave no indication. Lightning danced over his clasped fingertips. “I believe I am being most generous.”

“Do you expect me to just let you walk out of here?” The Moff bit through clenched teeth. “How are your needs of any importance to me?”

Ka'van tilted his head to the side, “I expect you to make things difficult for us, no one knows the extent of my service, something I will not allow to become public knowledge, especially now.” Ka'van smiled, “I look forward to confronting whatever obstacles you throw against us, though no one that is not, dispensable, is advisable. We both know that removing Ambassador Asara is in our mutual best interest, she is quite a … pain. This trade will stop the shedding of more Imperial blood.” Ka'van unclasped his hands. “Perhaps when our business is concluded we can meet again under more favorable conditions upon my family's Estate, I am sure you have heard of it?”

“Do enlighten me, what is the name of this Estate?” The Moff snarled.

Ka'van resisted the urge to smirk; the annoyance rolling of the man was quite thick. “Why it is an old Estate, outside Dromand Kaas nestled in the jungle called Jen'chwûq.”

“Located near the Dark Temple,” Kilran whispered.

Ka'van simply nodded, watching as Kilran's hand moved to the console depressing a button. “There has been a change in plans Sergeant, fall back.”

Ka'van nodded to the Grand Moff, “It has been a pleasure.” He pivoted walking away from the glowering Moff. He was not about to stay, there was still a chance Kilran would decide it was still worth it to capture the boarding party. It was about time they all left.

When he reached the main level near to the hanger he pulled up his holo. Depressing a button he waited. The blued image of Jax flickered, “Stars, where have you been?” the Cathar growled.

Ka'van grinned, “Have you made much progress?”

“Yes, we are headed back towards the hangar, I don’t like being here.” Jax grumbled.

“Neither do I my friend, I shall rendezvous with you shortly.” Ka'van cut the com before Jax could respond. Quickly he moved through the ship, easily following Jax's signature. As he moved he pulled the cowl lower over his face, he wasn't quite ready to dismiss the Force he had commanded to his side, Kilran might ignore his advice and actually throw an adept Force user at them in an attempt to capture them all.

Moments later he rounded the corner, before him stood the small boarding party, there appeared to be couple less than when they landed. Jax looked relieved when he saw him approaching. The Cathar walked up to him gesturing with his head, “We have been here way to long, I don't have any idea how long that beam is going to be disabled. We need to haul jets otta' here.”

“I concur,” Ka'van moved to the front of the party, quickly moving down the hall.

The hangar was eerily quiet, Ka'van reached out, there were people waiting for them. He could sense their presence. Quietly he marked their locations deep in the shadows; where was the real resistance? Ka'van growled under his breath, this was rather unfair. He was looking forward to an actual fight. He looked over at Jaxzin and the Ambassador, “Quickly,” he murmured, gesturing to the shuttle. It sat where it had landed, apparently unharmed. Interesting.

The party starting running past him; one man was talking on his ear com presumably contacting the captain of the shuttle to lower the gangplank. Then Ka'van felt it, a surge flowing through the Force, by the shuttle a Sith appeared. He reached out grasping the Twi'lek, picked her up and threw her body across the hanger bay. Jaxzin yelled out stopping to confront the Sith. Ka'van shook his head, such stupid bravado.

He reached out, picking up a shipping container. He sent it spinning through the air at the Sith. The man's attention shifted away from Jax. The Sith sent the crate spinning off course, crashing it against the wall. Stalking towards him the Sith started talking, proclaiming to be death itself. Ka'van rolled his eyes, to much talking. He picked up another canister throwing it across the room. He quickly followed it with a massive burst of Force energy that pushed the advancing Sith into the canister's path. Ka'van chuckled, though his smile quickly faded as he noticed Jax making his away across the room to retrieve the damn Twi'lek.

Frowning, Ka'van sent a gentle wave against his friend, pushing him away from the unmoving Twi'lek. It would simply not due for her to actually make it back aboard that shuttle. Apparently the beings waiting in the shadows felt the same way, blaster fire erupted, sending Jaxzin scrambling for cover. The huge Cathar ducked behind the lowered gangplank, blasters raised. Ka'van's frown deepened, he was going to have move things along, before his friend risked blaster fire to retrieve that Ambassador.

He returned his attention to the Sith, he had recovered from his encounter with the canister, though he did appear to be limping slightly. Pity. Ka'van reached out focusing on the advancing Sith's head, smiling when the Sith snarled grasping his hand in one hand. Shaking his head, Ka'van gestured to his side, picking up a shipping crate, a rather large one with an Imperial crest adoring it's side, and sent it hurtling through the hanger. Distracted by the pain in his head the Sith was barely able to move out of the way. Ka'van charged, commanding the Force flowing around the Sith's head to constrict. The man howled in pain, clutching his head as he staggered to the side. Ka'van ran faster, his feet a blurr, when he closed the distance he finally pulled his saber off his hip. Igniting the blade, he ran the golden plasma through the Sith's chest.

The hanger erupted, the explosion causing the ground to shift under Ka'van's feet. Grav rounds. He looked at the Ambassador's still unmoving body. She was surrounded by troops, two of which were holding massive assault cannons. “We need to go,” Ka'van shouted, running straight for the gangplank.

“But she is still out there.” Jax protested as the others scrambled up the lowered ramp. The Cathar pushed past him.

Ka'van sighed under his breath. “She is, but if we linger they will blow our shuttle and none of us will be leaving.” The whine of cannons filled the air then the hanger floor buckled, blasted durasteel mushroomed out from an uncomfortably close smoking crater. The pinging whine of ricocheting bolts sounded dangerously close to his head; the skin at the nape of his neck pr!ckled, Ka'van brought up his saber, spinning, deflecting a bolt that was hurtling straight for Jax's head. “We need to get going.”

“We can't, she is still out there,” Jax's gaze locked on the Twi'lek, “we can't just leave her. You don't just leave a fallen squadmate behind. You don't.” Jaxzin attempted to leave the safety of the shuttle's overhang. A duo of blaster bolts slammed into the overhead hydraulics, causing the massive Cathar to duck. Sulfuric smoke exploded meters away from the gangplank as twisted burned durasteel rained down on them. Those grav rounds were getting to close.

Ka'van grabbed onto Jax's jacket. The Cathar pulled his eyes away from the Twi'lek's prone form. Concern radiated off of him, but it was more than the over protective need to help some pretty face, it was deeper than that more firmly imbedded. Ka'van suppressed a sigh; his friend was willing to risk his hide to haul her back. Ka'van wondered just how assertive he was going to have to be. “She knew the risks when she accompanied us.” The gangplank rocked under their feet as the shuttle violently lurched. Ka'van looked at the smoldering hull, “I can not deflect grave rounds, even I have my limitations.” Another shrapnel filled cloud exploded under the shuttle. “Jaxzin,” Ka'van kept his voice even, praying he would not have to resort to more underhanded means, “if we stay here any longer we will endanger everyone on our shuttle. It is not a favorable choice but are you willing to risk everyone’s life?” Ka'van looked towards the slowly advancing troops, blaster bolts furiously raining down on the shuttle. He could barely make out the blue form of the Ambassador, her body blocked by a wall of black and red durasteel. “We need to get out of here. I do suggest you get on the shuttle, unless you want to be left here.”

Jax growled, teeth flashing before he turned and ran up the ramp. Ka'van looked one last time around the hanger bay; the troops had picked up the Twi'lek and were carrying her off. Ka'van turned and ran up the gangplank as the shuttle cleared the hanger bay's floor.

~*~

Ka'van was leaning against the bar, watching the Rodian tending the bar pour his drinks. The lanky blue skinned bartender set the drinks on the table, two three-fingers glasses of Corellian Whisky. Setting a credit chip on the table Ka'van excused himself with a small nod of his head. Quickly he made his way over to where his friend was quietly sitting, more like sulking, in a booth. He set a glass down in front of the grey Cathar.

Jax looked up at him, grunting acknowledgment. Ka'van sat beside him reaching into an inner pocket he pulled out a cigarra, setting it next to his friend. Jax picked it up rolling it between his fingers, his expression still sullen. Ka'van suppressed a sigh, this simply will not do. Turning away from the table, his eyes quickly scanned the crowded cantina. There. Standing at the entrance was a lovely petite Twi'lek, skin a blushing pink, lekku covered with natural mottling. She was dressed in leathers, a blaster on one hip; she also looked slightly bored, eyes scanning the cantina. He gently Force nudged Jaxzin at the same time he sent a small push towards the Twi'lek encouraging her to look in their direction. The Twi'lek's eyes brightened as she started making her way across the room. Ka'van kept his face straight. Leaning over he whispered, “Looks like it might be a promising night after all.” Jax only nodded, eyes locked onto the woman sauntering towards the table.

Ka'van grinned, taking a sip off his rock's glass. If that didn't improve his mood, nothing would. Slowly he moved away from the table, heading back to the bar. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the Twi'lek paused briefly beside the booth before sliding in next to Jax. Yes that should most definitely improve his friend's mood. Taking another drink off his glass, Ka'van let his eyes scan the room, now to find himself some company for the remainder of this fine evening.

Jen'chwûq – It is the name of my SW familial estate on Dromund Kaas.

Jen'chwûq translation Sith Jen = dark chwûq= ember, using to also mean sun.

It’s amazing how a person can change once the survival instinct kicks in. The fire inside was burning brightly now, giving me courage for the first time in my life. I would not be their puppet, I would not kowtow to them like the meek little girl I’d been all these years. No, I wasn’t going down without a fight and even though it likely meant my early demise, I’d do my damnedest to take at least one of those emotionless, unfeeling bastards down with me. Survival instinct kicked in, causing a surge of adrenaline to shoot through me, steadying my nerves as I psyched myself for fight and flight. It was as if some dormant part of me awoke, turned on like a switch and awareness flooded my senses.

I took in my surroundings once again, assessing this time, noticing the thick soundproof walls, a paperweight on Keeper’s desk…..another weapon if I needed it, the Minister’s stiff posture…..it wouldn’t be easy to get the drop on him even if his back was to me, Keeper’s right hand stayed near her belt even though she was making hand gestures as she argued with her superior. I saw her eyes flicker to me for a second and my fingers resumed their nervous habit of picking fuzz from the bottom of my sweater. I knew the brief calm before the storm was nearly up and while they weren’t paying attention, I quickly slid my hand into my pocked and palmed one of the gadgets I’d brought, a small inch high cylindrical object with a button in the middle.

Unsurprisingly, the Minister noticed my fidgeting and turned sharply towards me, “What’s that?”

Time’s up……it’s do or die now! For the first time, I looked him directly in the eye, a smile curving my lips as I held up the small device resting on my palm and answered, “Just a little something I made a few months back.” Then I shut my eyes as my thumb depressed the button.

It seemed like time stood still with that simple movement. The device emitted a high pitched noise along with a blinding flash of light. The sound was enough to disorient most species, including mine, but having tinkered with the thing for months, I was accustomed to it and quickly pressed my advantage. I took the other object out of my pocket, a long slender rod with a button on the end of the handle. I hurried over to the hunched over Minister who was starting to recover his equilibrium and shoved the pointed end into the base of his skull, pressing the button as I did. It emitted a concentrated ion shock that would travel down the spinal column and render him temporarily paralyzed. Like a rag doll, the coldhearted bastard dropped to the floor and I moved on to that smug b*tch still trying to get her bearings. Less than a moment had passed and both Humans were lying helpless on the floor.

Oh dear, I’m in so much trouble now, the timid side of me panicked as time once again seemed to resume itself, and not the late for class or forgot my Biochem assignment kind of trouble either. No, I just attacked two Imperial officers…..not good…..not good at all. I took a deep breath as the adrenaline spike began to wane and tears began to flow. Okay….gotta focus and get the void out of here now, my logical side insisted, taking over once again. Keep calm, don’t draw suspicion. They said that Watcher Three guy thinks I was just in here to answer some questions. Well, the interrogation is over now, so hopefully he’ll just let me leave. I took a couple more deep breaths, then walked over to the door, keyed in the code I’d watched them enter earlier to unlock the door, and calmly left the room, shutting the door behind me.

“I’m so sorry, miss,” Watcher Three told me as I approached, “I know it can’t be easy news to take.”

“It’s not,” I sniffed, “It’s still sinking in to be honest and I really just want to go home so can I please have my purse?”

“Sure,” he smiled comfortingly, “Would you like for me to have someone escort you home?”

“Thanks, but I really just need to be alone for a while.” I gave him a wobbly smile for good measure, silently pleading for him to hurry before those two recovered enough to sound an alarm.

“Contact us if you hear anything or need someone to talk to……remember, discretion is very important right now.”

“I will,” I waved, ignorning my instinct to bolt as I forced myself to walk normally towards freedom. Freedom……Ha! I’m a fugitive now……not much freedom in that, but it’s better than where I was headed a few minutes ago.

As soon as I was out of the complex I headed for the taxi, but stopped when blaring alarms went off behind me. Damn, I was hoping the paralysis would last longer! Fear jolted me into action and I reached into my pocket for the last gadget I’d tucked in there. It was a small stealth generator that could be hooked to a belt or pocket. The rainstorms typical of Dromund Kaas would give me away, but it would be enough for me to at least get to some form of safety if I could find a crowd to blend in with. Taking a taxi was out of the question now for several reasons, but I wasn’t going to give up since I was likely a dead woman if I did.

My saving grace came in the form of a group of drunk Mandalorians, people I’d normally avoid like the plague and I banked my hopes on those spooks assuming the same. I heard the brutish, armored men grumbling about the taxi taking them to the wrong stop as I followed them along the narrow walkway. The stench of sweaty bodies, stale beer, and spicy food was nearly overpowering, nearly causing me to gag. I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle the sound before I gave myself away. An involuntary shiver ran down my spine as we passed the Sith Sanctum, but I shook it off and kept up with the group as they staggered towards the last branch of the citadel.

Normally I’d stick out like a sore thumb at the Mandalorian Enclave, but it was currently thriving with various species from all walks of life that had congregated these past few days for a conference of sorts. I recall Father telling me about it last week, but hadn’t paid much attention because it wasn’t a place I’d ever dream of visiting. And yet, here I am sneaking in with these foul smelling men to hide amongst their brethren.

Judging by the noise, whatever conference was going on, the business part was obviously concluded and the celebration was in full swing and I felt smothered as found myself surrounded by people milling and my ears were assaulted with raccus laughter, lewd comments, cursing in several languages, and what sounded like a skirmish in the distance. Crowds made me antsy and I normally avoided them, but there was a measure of safety in numbers……even if several of those numbers were intoxicated. Actually, that could be an advantage right now……they’re less likely to notice me if my generator fails and if they do, it won’t be my face. I felt my cheeks heat up with that last thought as I looked down.

The rain made my sweater cling to me, but I had a tank top on underneath and while not the prettiest girl on the block, I was not bad to look at when I tried. That was the problem, though……I never tried and there was little I could do now other than remove the sweater and maybe take my hair out of its tight bun. Careful to make any big movements that cause a ripple, I slowly peeled off the sweater and unbound my thick, blue-black tresses, ditching both the gold clip and soggy sweater over the railing before ducking inside the building with the rest of the group. Just as I was shaking out my mane of hair, my generator petered out at last and one of the drunks I’d snuck in with unwittingly plowed into me, spilling the mug he’d just snatched off a tray all over both of us as we landed.

Having a mountain of a fully armored male that likely outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds on top of me wasn’t exactly the scenario that I’d imagined ending up in and was certain to draw a lot of unwanted attention with the current atmosphere. I fought to catch my breath after having the wind knocked out of me and started shoving at the dumbfounded man lying on top of me.

“Can’t breathe……get off!” I croaked, feeling like my lungs were about to collapse. It took a few seconds for my plea to penetrate the lout's drunken fog and I was relieved when he finally lifted his crushing weight off of me. I lay there gasping for breath, too dazed to sit up right away.

“Oy…..sorry,” the Mando smiled sheepishly at me, “didn’t see you.” Then those dark eyes traveled along my wet form, and I could almost feel the heat radiating from them. Okay, so a white tank top over purple bra probably wasn’t the best choice……

“Must be really drunk to miss her,” one of the other men chuckled, “Should make it up to her, mate.”

“It’s alright…..my fault,” I grunted as carefully sat up and began frantically searching around for my purse. I spotted it a few feet away, its contents spilled out and I crawled over, scooping up my belongings and tossing them haphazardly in as I caught my breath.

“Mesh’la,” he murmured, an eager grin crossing his rugged features as his fellows chimed in with their own whistles and shouts.

Kark! Another fly in the ointment, I didn’t speak Mando’a at all, but I could guess from the guffaws and gestures that whatever it was, it had something to do with one of them helping me out of my clothing and into a bed. While I wouldn’t mind ridding myself of my embarrassing virginity and the guy was attractive roguish sort of way, I really didn’t have the time for that right now. I needed to get off planet before I disappeared completely.

“Hey now boys,” a gravelly voice called out, “Leave this young woman alone. The meetings are finished and more black ale kegs are coming out. Besides, judging from those alarms in the distance, Imperial Intelligence is up in arms about something and we don’t need to be causing a ruckus right now.”

“Aww, Braden,” one of the more sober and coherent ones clapped the new comer on the back, “Always a buzzkill, but you do have a point. Come on fellas, let’s go drink…..and you’re welcome to join us, miss. Pretty females are never turned away from the kegs.”

“Don’t mind them…..they’re excited about the Great Hunt being called, but they’re harmless for the most part,” the newcomer assured her as he held out a hand to help me up.

“Thanks,” I nodded, taking the offered hand, his calloused palm letting me know he was no stranger to doing for himself and the sharp eyes saying he’d seen a lot over his years and didn’t miss much. His grip was strong and firm, his posture protective and almost fatherly, causing the painful reality of my now orphan situation to surface. A second later, I nearly jumped out of my skin as I heard a couple of uniformed soldiers call out as they approached.

“Either of you see a Chiss girl run through here? Short, wearing a white sweater, dark pants…..name’s Lunan.”

“Sorry, I didn’t spot anyone on my way out,” Braden answered, casually wrapping his arm me, his gentle squeeze telling me to play along, “But we were in a hurry to get back to our room and not really paying attention to much else. What about you, sweetheart?”

“No hon,” I shook my head, the gesture making my hair drift across half of my face as I fought to keep my body from trembling. It didn’t help that night was falling and the rain was getting cold against my bare skin, “but it’s pretty mobbed and noisy here right now.”

“Dozens of drunk Mandos are seldom quiet,” Braden chuckled, his calm demeanor instilling the same in me, “You two are certainly welcome to go inside and ask,” he inclined his head towards the enclave, “but I think the only females that are running around here are the ones trying to get away from over amorous men without doing them any bodily harm.”

“Ah, I don’t think she’s the type to go wandering around with that lot,” one of the soldiers nodded, “According to her file, she’s a bit of a shy mousy sort. Prissy. Probably faint in a crowd like this.” Yes! I thought triumphantly, suddenly very happy with my wallflower status.

“What’s she wanted for? Is it worth a bounty? If that’s the case, you might want to try your luck inside,” Braden offered and I was curious as to what their answer would be.

“She assaulted two high ranking Intelligence officers when she was brought in for questioning and managed to incapacitate them long enough to escape. Doesn’t say what she was brought in for but I’m not seeing a bounty listed for her yet.”

“Well, if that changes, you know where to go,” Braden told them.

“Appreciate it,” the soldier nodded, “We’d better move on then.”

“Thank you for your time,” his partner called out as the pair retreated towards the taxi.

“Would I be correct in saying that you are Lunan?” Braden asked me after the Imperials were gone.

“That’s my core name,” I admitted, seeing no reason to lie since this guy didn’t seem interested in turning me in. I was curious about that though, assuming he was a bounty hunter like most Mandalorians, “Why didn’t you turn me over to them?”

“Let’s just say you remind me of someone very near and dear to me. Like you, she was also in trouble and I saved her from it as a child. As soon as I saw the l look on your face when those soldiers spoke up, I knew you were their target. Was any of that true? Did you really assault two high ranking spooks?”

“That part was true,” I nodded, still in shock that I managed that, “It’s a long story and you deserve to know since you stuck your neck out for me, but I don’t have time to tell it.”

“I sorta gathered that,” he replied, “However, right now we should focus on how they tracked you down so fast. I’m guessing they planted a tracker on you.”

With everything happening so fast, I hadn’t thought of that very likely possibility and I knew exactly where and when a bug was planted, “My purse,” I groaned in frustration as I began digging through it. Credsticks, the blaster, my comlink, a spare memory stick, my datapad, and a tube of some ludicrous shade of pink lip gloss Mother bought me that I never opened but didn’t have the heart to throw out. I looked at the older man, “I don’t see anything in here that isn’t mine.”

“Were you parted from it at all?”

“Yeah, they took it from me and searched it. Why?”

“They probably stuck it inside the lining,” Braden told me as he dug out a plastic bag, peering inside before dumping its contents in a nearby bin. He came back and handed me the now empty bag, “Here, put your things in here….all but the comlink and datapad. They’re probably tracking their signals and will immediately know where you’re at as soon as you try to make a call or send a message.”

With growing dread, I knew he was right and I took the bag, noticing that it smelled like takeout food. I saved my design files from my datapad onto the memory stick, and put it in the bag with the rest of my stuff. I wiped out the rest of the files on my datapad, most of them personal stuff that I didn’t want anyone who might find it looking through, then out it back my purse with the comlink.

“Toss it into that bin,” Braden suggested, “then if you’re ready to leave now, I can get you off planet tonight.”

I knew going back to the house was out of the question and I’d been prepared for that. I’d stuffed several credits into my pocket as well as my purse before I left with the Minister. It would have to be enough until I could find a way to contact my brother.

“I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be,” I finally answered, wanting to trust this kindly man, but still hesitant, “but why? What’s my end of the deal?” Then a thought occurred to me and anger sparked to life in me, “Hey, I may be desperate, but I’m not going to……you know….”

“Trust me, that’s not what I was asking,” Braden assured me palms out, the twinkle in those blue eyes telling me he knew what I was going to say, “No offense, but you’re a bit too young for me.”

“I’ll be seventeen next week, that’s an adult for Chiss,” I muttered defensively, my cheeks feeling warm as we climbed into a taxi, a slightly offended that he assumed I was a mere child, “so if you don’t want me to sleep with you, what do you want? Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the help, but I’m just leery of people right now and want to know what strings are attached.”

“You have guts and must be either extremely lucky or have good fighting instincts to be able to take down two officers and escape from Imperial Intelligence’s Headquarters……maybe even both. I need someone like that.”

“I’m not sure how good I am physically in a fight,” I replied, wanting to be honest, “To tell you the truth, I’ve never done anything like that in my whole life. I don’t even get into verbal arguments very often and a good bit of what happened back at Intelligence was luck and quick thinking on my part.”

“That’s nothing to sneeze at,” Braden replied then gestured at the plastic bag, “The blaster…..can you use it?”

“Sure, Father was a soldier for most of his life and practically groomed us to be. Our family line doesn’t rank high in the Ascendancy and in the Empire if you want to be successful and aren’t Force sensitive, the Imperial military is the best way to go about it.”

“Was that what you were considering?”

“I was set to start at the military academy in a couple of months……don’t think that’ll be happening now,” I frowned, still shocked and disgusted with what Intelligence had done. My anger and grief would have to wait, however, so I swallowed hard and went on, “Why do you ask?”

“Ever hear of the Great Hunt?”

******

Forty-eight hours later, I was in a cheap room on Nar Shaddaa, staring in awe at the small bathroom mirror, the face of a stranger looking back at me. The heart shaped face with its large red eyes and deep blue skin were the same, but that was it. Gone were my long blue-black tresses, replaced with a short, face framing haircut in a shocking shade of pink. The color was my idea as its very boldness was so uncharacteristic of the woman who put her trust in a kindly stranger to flee Dromund Kaas. That berry colored lip gloss I’d finally opened made my smile seductive and it was reinforced with eye makeup. A small row of stitches marred my left cheek, a deep cut I’d sustained during my earlier training session with Braden. He’s still pretty spry for an aging bounty hunter, I winced as I touched the still tender skin. It would leave a scar, but I looked at it as one more thing to hide my identity.

I glanced at the chrono and felt a pang of sadness when I noticed the hour. Tea time. A mid-afternoon tradition I always treasured with my family. I wrinkled my nose at the sludge in the chipped mug on the dresser. I had yet to develop a taste for caf, but tea was an Imperial beverage and an Outer Rim mercenary asking for it would raise a brow or two. So my beloved tea was replaced with caf and my accent was another thing that I was working hard to shed as I emerged from the shell I’d resided in all these years.

A tear fell down my cheek as I allowed myself a moment to grieve for my father and the life I left behind. Then wiped it away as I looked down at the identity card and papers Braden left for me bearing the name Lanj’adel’yakko.

“Jadely.” I whispered at my reflection, deciding I liked the way it sounded as I began to don on the plating my new patron had given me. My new life had begun and for the first time, I truly felt alive.

*Luken’s full name is Syrel’uke’nudo. From what I read on Wookieepedia, the first and last parts of Chiss names are family ones so I kept Luken and Lunan’s similar. She won’t be using it much longer anyways….

*I took some liberties with Lunan/Jadely’s abilities and yes, she’s likely going to be a Cybertech in game. It suits her.

*Mesh’la=beautiful. Translation from Mandoa.org

An entertaining take on Esseles! Bio did a good job with making Ambassador slightly iffy, so the DS choices don’t feel a bit more seductive. I like how you resolved it, particularly the negotiation with Kilran. Ka’van came across as a character that have brains in his head J

I am good with new characters introduced into the mix. This is a short-story format after all J

I loved the format you chose, the PoV of a sister that is being told about the IA exploits. It is wonderful to see the glamorous protagonist’s actions being reflected back to his family. His father being put to death, his sister being pressured into working for the Intelligence, really good! It reminded me something I read a long time ago, and it was a pleasant memory. Kudos! And, I liked the second part. The drunken Mandos was funny, and the link in to the BH story was great. Would be interesting how she plays off Mako, since she is close to the archetype that Mako occupies in the game. Braden has a thing for damsels in distress.

Bring ‘em In.

“Sir, the mission is on Nar Shaddaa.” Sgt. Jorgan greeted Lt. Dur when she entered the mess hall.

Well, ‘good mornings’ do grow stale after a few weeks of spending a day in and day out together. “Your point, Sgt.Jorgan?” Glean sighed, pouring kaf.

The ship’s holo breathlessly announced that they have established the orbit. Nar Shaddaa, the Sin Planet. Glean half-expected the holo to slip in an advertisement for a new dive.

“We will lose valuable time fighting off idiots shoving money down your cannon and asking what club you perform in, Sir,” Jorgan explained between sips from his own mug.

“My cannon? Why?!” Glean asked dumbfounded and pressed the weapon closer to her chest. She wouldn’t let some stupid civ to jeopardize the fine-tuned---“

“You lack the customary receptacle, Sir,” Jorgan’s slanted eyes twinkled merrily. He must be on his second or third mug. Did he fortify it? No, not Jorgan. That would be entirely unprofessional getting plastered before the mission. Glean felt distinctively at a disadvantage and hurried to rectify it by gulping kaf on a double. She promptly burned her tongue.

“Explain, Sgt,” Lt. Dur said sourly, suppressing an unwarrior-like ouch.

“Cleavage, Sir,” Sgt. Jorgan obliged. Lt. Dur slammed the mug down, and the life-giving liquid spilled on the counter. Well, at least C2-N2 will have a good start to his day.

Glean turned towards the shiny supply container. It reflected a too tall scowling Mirialian in a tight bodysuit. She turned around, and cranked her neck. Certainly, the black plastoid looked more of a second skin than armor, emphasizing the strong muscles from the backpack down to the heels. Compared to the frontal view, her backside had one advantage. It lacked the glowing patches in the completely inappropriate places.

“It’s high performance armor, Sgt. Jorgan,” Lt. Dur argued feebly, “The GSI’s latest.”

“I know it. You know it. The rest of Nar Shaddaa doesn’t,” Jorgan said reasonably. “Taking into account the local mindset, Sir, we cannot expect the civs to appreciate the battle capabilities of the suit over the… erm… outward appearances.”

Glean cringed. Stars, was she missing the yelling, hissing Lt. Jorgan she’d first come to know on Mantell? “Suit up then, Sergeant!” Glean’s hand went to the top clip. “We must use our resources in the most efficient way.”

Sgt. Jorgan’s opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He snapped it shut, and the pointy incisors bit into a thin lip, as the Cathar watched Lt. to remove…

…the backpack.

“On the other hand, if our bounty is a man, it will give us a tactical advantage, Sir,” he finally managed.

“Which we’ll lose the moment your ugly face comes into view,” Lt. Dur responded crossly. “Wampa’s breath, we are docking, Sgt. We’ll play dress-up some other time. Move OUT, MOVE OUT!”

Glean threw the backpack back on, and fastened the clips as she rushed down the stairs.

“It was my duty to make you aware of the potential danger, SIR!“ Jorgan called after his CO, and hefted his own cannon. “And this gal has been married. And in a military. Wampa’s breath indeed….”

/

“…would have felled a rancor! The Lord, she didn’t even flinch, just roared up a little, and crashed down from atop at the miserable wretch. And whoa! A killing blow! When two Sith really go at it, it’s a beautiful thing…” Lt. Pierce laughed, and dropped into the armchair. “The carbofreeze… bah. That’s for sissies,” the big man’s legs went up on the low table. Cpt. Quinn noticed, yet left uncommented the fact that the heavy boots pushed back the tray of delicate seafood and the eight carefully chosen dipping sauces. He endeavored to save his wineglass, but chose inaction in response to the pointed look that accompanied the word ‘sissies’.

Vette giggled, gave Pierce thumbs up, and disappeared back into the cargo hold. Well, the child got her bedtime story and good riddance. The savage, Broonmark, waddled over, obviously eager to get more details of the slaughter from his human alter-ego. Cpt. Quinn forestalled the shaggy mosquito, fully realizing he was risking a limb.

“I trust you have applied the advanced medpack I have supplied to the burns?” he asked Lt. Pierce mildly. Pierce frowned: “Some medpack, yes. The Lord doesn’t have the patience for that sort of…”

Quinn whirled on his heels and stormed off. His steps slowed the closer he came to the doors of her room. At the doors, he came to a full stop.

His every instinct was against confronting a wounded beast.

His entire carrier tittered on the success of the wounded beast and being as close to her as was possible.

Behind the door 2V’s flustered voice reported: “Master, you will be pleased to know that I have washed the blood away --- Oh. More blood. My deepest apologies, Master, I will get right on with clea— Please, do not deact---“

The doors opened, and the hapless droid flew backwards, hit the opposite wall and sat there stunned. Better him than I. Quinn took a deep cleansing breath, and stepped into the wampas’ den… if only it was occupied by mere wampas!

The towering Sith was wrapped in a bloodied towel, her skin, her blood, all the same crimson color. Both sabers were momentarily out of her reach. So far so good. Cpt. Quinn dropped an emergency kolto bomb, coating Lord Becchino with the disinfecting, antisepticising, soothing, disorienting and (no denying it) stinky powder. One of Becchino’s sabre’s hilts jumped up into the air and into her fist. Not good.

“A wise move, My Lord,” Quinn said, bowing deeply, and slowly moved the other hilt to a chair. “You need to lie down.”

“Get out!” Becchino scowled. “Stop wasting my time. I wanted the MK’s yesterday. Prior to setting out to bring in that gangster-loving excuse for a Sith.”

“And that is when I have delivered the entire order, My Lord. In fact, I have optimized a few things, and was able to stretch the materials to produce two surplus kits, now placed on the markets. If Lt. Pierce neglected to mention the package I have left in his care---”

Lord Becchino sat down heavily on the bed. Or masked a fall by sitting down. The hilt fell out of her grip and cluttered to the floor. It’s only so far the rage could take even a Sith. Quinn peeled off the towel, to survey the bloody mess of shrapnel, skin, blood and ****. Pushed to confirm a telltale swell of internal bleeding. Bad to worst. He nodded and said evenly: “I understand that you believe that managing our supplies is the best use of me, My Lord, but would I have been present in the field when you have confronted the said mastermind, the wound would not have been ---“ he opened up his med chest and sterilized his hands: “badly infected.”

He started working a smaller kolto sprayer: “I will have to transport you to the med bay, My Lord. Are you ambulatory, or should I carry you?”

“You? Carry me? Captain, did you inhale more kolto than good for you?” Becchino started laughing groggily, drugs taking effect fast, but not quite masking the intended insult. Still abusive, but not physically so now. An improvement. He couldn’t help but being impressed though (and, to tell the truth, relieved) when Lord Becchino pushed herself on her feet, and stumbled to the bay uncomplaining and under her own hyperdrive. To be honest, carrying the pounds and pounds of the muscular Sith might have proven problematic, and calling Pierce… or Broonmark… Ctn. Quinn couldn’t afford that just now when the odds were stacking in his favor.

“Dur?” Becchino asked, stretched on the bed in the medbay. The facial ridges drooped now, and the rest of her face started to slack as the painkillers took effect. “Alive and well,” Quinn replied, and his voice acquired a sing-song manner, “as you shall be, My Lord, after a good sleep.”

“No needles…” she rasped.

“Would I dare defy your explicit orders, My Lord?” Quinn pulled a mask over her face deftly. Gas hissed. A dose sufficient for an average rancor. “Sleep, My Lord, I’ll tell you all about Dur on the morrow.” Becchino could not move, or talk now, but she made a fair attempt at burning a hole through his chest with a glare. Quinn stood firm watching her eyes grow dim and close then mimicked rocking a cradle. Hush little baby…

He went about his work. It was going to be a long and difficult night, but Quinn had to suppress an uncouth desire to whistle as he cleansed, removed, stitched and patched. With luck, the abomination hated the experience more than he did, and that would spell the end to Lt. Pierce’s tenure in the field.

@Mirdthestrill: It was nice to learn more about Karanni and Quillan. I think it’s a believable backstory that explains their rivalry.

@DomiSotto: I always liked Imperial Intelligence better than the SIS, but I suppose that’s just personal preference.

Your story was really nice. I especially like how you portrayed Quinn’s inner conflict.

@DogeDandolo: Welcome to the thread! I liked your stories, especially the first one. Regarding the format, if you put a blank line after every paragraph, it will be easier to read in the forum.

@frauzet: “Tough choice” is a good description. But the codeword should be pretty safe, though I might get back to it later.

I like the conversation between Thorns and Mako, you write her really well. The part about Ru and his interrogation of the Republic soldier was also interesting.

@AKHadeed: Thanks, glad you liked the story! It’s nice to see a more or less normal job for a bounty hunter like Angie. I liked her conversation with Zeedor.

@Hadeedak: I like your description of Dromund Kaas, and Zeedor’s meeting with Venatus was interesting.

@alaurin: Lunan is an interesting character. I love your take on this part of the agent story and its consequences, and the beginning of the bounty hunter story.

@Kitar: An interesting take on the Esseles and the DS choice. I like that Ka’van isn’t a typical Jedi.

Zeirko Leril sat in his quarters onboard the Fury and tried to prepare himself. He looked at his reflection on his datapad and ran a hand through his already messy hair. Fortunately, his red skin prevented him from sporting rings under his eyes like humans did. He hadn’t gotten much sleep that night.

Surprisingly, the young Sith almost looked forward to dealing with his traitorous Captain. He wondered if he still knew how to do this. It’d been too long since he had to deal with this kind of events.

The problem was that his self-esteem had taken a serious blow. Zeirko was angry. Not at Quinn, but at himself for not seeing it coming. He had thought about it long and hard and realized that he had no reason to feel hurt or to blame the Captain for any of it. The one who was really to blame was his old master, and Zeirko had every intention to make Baras pay for forcing his friend into such a situation.

In a way, Quinn had been a better mentor than Baras. He always did what he thought was best for the Empire, and Zeirko admired him for it. To a point. This was why Quinn’s betrayal bothered him so much, it made him feel like he’d failed.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Zeirko opened the door with the force and turned around to look at his visitor.

Captain Quinn closed the door behind him and stood at attention. “My lord, you summoned me?”

“I did.” Zeirko stood and started pacing up and down the room, an annoying nervous habit. The Captain put on his best mask of calm, but Zeirko had known him long enough to notice the signs of distress and apprehension in his expression. Quinn was no fool. But Zeirko wasn’t, either. “At ease, Captain. I think it’s time we talked about the events on the transponder station, now that we’ve had time to sleep on it.”

Quinn didn’t answer, so Zeirko continued. “You have no doubt been wondering why I haven’t killed you or at least removed you from this ship.” It wasn’t a question.

“I admit I did wonder, my lord.”

“The short answer is I didn’t want to play into Baras’s hands.”

Zeirko paused for a moment and finally stopped his pacing. Show time. “As for the long answer, there are various points that have to be taken into account. I must admit that I have put much thought into your reasons, and I think I have a reasonable grasp on your motivation for this betrayal. Allow me to explain.

First of all, you were concerned for your life, understandably. You knew that standing against Baras was unwise. Attempting to confess to me seemed unwise as well. What’s more, Darth Baras would certainly have tried to punish you for betraying him. You’re a smart man, Quinn, you know that even after killing me, you could be seen as a threat by Baras. But all in all, this course of action was more favorable toward your continued survival. I can’t blame you, honestly, we Sith are raised with the concept of ensuring our own survival.

But there was more to it than that. You believed in Baras, you thought you were doing what was best for the Empire. After all, I am still very young, only eighteen years old, and very inexperienced. I never had the kind of cunning he possesses. In your mind, Baras was the future of the Empire, the one who would lead it to victory against the Republic.

Lastly, you were only doing your job. I realize that you have been spying for him for quite a while. Your loyalty to Baras was older and deeper, in spite of our friendship. Even without saving your career, he’s a member of the Dark Council and his orders take precedence over mine. Am I right, Captain?”

Quinn seemed honestly surprised. “You are very astute, my lord.”

Zeirko nodded thoughtfully. “Surely you realize that these reasons are not always solid. I understand your point, but you are still in the wrong, Captain. I’ll elaborate.”

Now for the important part. Zeirko collected his thoughts and focused on what he wanted to achieve.

“Concerning the last point, there is not much I can say. Technically, you were obligated to follow Baras, but that’s no excuse. I know you, Quinn, you don’t blindly follow orders that are wrong. Honor and the good of the Empire are more important and justify disobeying orders. Broysc is the best example.

You should have told me. I am not one of the Sith who allow their blind rage to get in the way of the rational decision. In confessing, you would have proven your loyalty to me. You are a friend and, more to the point in this train of thought, a valuable asset. I wouldn’t have allowed Baras to eliminate you. But now he will try kill you for your failure.

You have always underestimated me, Captain. That I survived your trap is the best example. I believe I have proven that I am capable, and you never had cause to question my dedication. On the other hand, your personal debt to Baras has clouded your judgment. You know as well as I do that he is a coward and his notoriously murdering his own spies helps no one. He will cost the Empire at least as much as he will give it.

My situation is the best example. I was his most powerful apprentice, I helped him immensely in getting where he is today, and he just threw it away. He is to blame for this power play, and he couldn’t have chosen a worse time.”

Now the climax. Zeirko looked Quinn firmly in the eyes. “Baras has sown dissent in the Empire and even split the Dark Council. Regardless of whether the Emperor is personally involved in all of this, his status means something. As the Emperor’s Wrath, I am one of his chosen. And Baras goes against everything that’s holding the Empire together, for his own gain. What kind of patriot not only condones, but causes this level of infighting in the middle of a war that will decide the future of the whole Empire?

You are an intelligent and capable officer, Captain. Surely you see the mistake you have made. But you can still regain my trust and continue your work for the Empire.”

Zeirko finished and waited for Quinn to speak. He had to stop himself from fiddling with his armor. Too much pathos and black-and-white? His rhetorical skills were a little rusty. No matter, Zeirko would turn him eventually.

Quinn seemed shaken when he answered. “My lord, I am at a loss. You have proven to be everything I hoped for, and yet I have betrayed you. I deeply regret my actions. If you will give me another chance, I will do all I can to live up to it. My loyalty to you will never come into question again.”

The young Sith smiled. “I accept your apology. Of course, I will have Jaesa verify your conviction.”

“Naturally, my lord. Thank you.”

Zeirko looked at Quinn and frowned. “Captain, no more subterfuge between us. I value your opinion and I appreciate honesty. If you have something to say, never hesitate to do so.”

Quinn nodded. “Of course, my lord. I just marveled at what a long way you have come. I never knew you had a talent for debating or rhetoric.”

“Of course not.” Zeirko fought to keep his expression calm and collected. This was not the time for gloating. “As I said, you’ve always underestimated me. I grew up with Sith politics. Just because I usually don’t participate in power games doesn’t mean I can’t.”

“I see.”

He turned back to his desk. “You know, Quinn, Baras is even dumber than I thought. Putting you of all people up to this.”

“My lord?”

“One failed assassination attempt and you turn on your master? Remind me never to use you as a spy, Quinn. Dismissed.”

After the Captain had left, Zeirko allowed himself a smirk. It had definitely been too long.

I have some problems with typing, so I'll keep the comments short.

@AKHadeed: I like how Angie tries to steer Zeedor clear of any sandtraps in the cantina. It's obviously not his natural habitat.

And thank you very much for the wonderful compliment.

@Hadeedak: I really felt for Zeedor not being allowed to examine his find any further.

@DomiSotto: Thank you, I always have to remind myself, that at this point there isn't a romance yet between them. Although I do appreciate heroic characters in books, movies and other people's stories, I like my own more ordinary. I am glad Mako fits in there so well.

Your second sentence had me already grinning. And I didn't know drinking caf could be turned into a competitioin this early in the morning.

@alaurin: I already told you, I loved the first part. And I liked the second, too. Especially the drunken Mando's and Braden saving Lunan.

@Kitar: I enjoyed Ka'van's part in this endeavor very much. It's always good to see a bad guy who is not acting utterly dumb.

@Jokad: Thank you for the kind comment. Only hinting at certain things and letting the readers fill in the gaps themselves seems to work well.

I like Zeirko's sound reasoning. And the blow at the end made it all the better.

Ciner was watching the hunter talk to Mako. Smilo had monitored him parallel to preparing the computer spike for their access to the Brentaal Star’s systems. The agent cast a glance of his own at Thorns and his companion. They were both young, several years younger even than him, maybe too young. The little slicer was good, no doubt. What all of them doubted was her suitability for this mission. It had not been hard to convince Thorns it would be best for her to stay on board the Black Talon. The hunter probably thought it had been his own idea. Working remote via the spike bore its risks, but Smilo would still be there and ready to interfere if they lost the connection.

He would have preferred not to come into the picture at all in this whole endeavor but he hadn’t had much of a choice. He had read Kilran’s dossier—at least everything he had access to with his current clearance. If Ciner, too, had, he would have known it was futile to oppose the Grand Moff; Kilran always got what he wanted. From what Smilo had seen so far the Sith was very perceptive. On the other hand he was definitely that—a kriffing Sith. He might have challenged Kilran anyway. He didn’t know much about the heir of house Ignis. The young man had not played any role in the Empire’s politics in the recent time. That would change fast once he had begun his apprenticeship with Darth Baras in earnest.

Smilo risked another glance at the Sith and wondered about the functions of Ciner’s implants. The devices were non-standard, not manufactured or maintained by any public company. Even a pillar of society like house Ignis had its enemies; and Lord Ardens was known to be a cautious man, much too cautious to risk his only child flippantly. Ciner had worn these implants since an accident in early childhood in which he had lost his mother and had been severely injured himself. Intelligence records were not clear on who had arranged the accident. There had not been much more useful information about Ciner in the records. House Ignis had a reputation for being effective and adamant about weeding out any spies in its service. If the agent had to make a guess, though, he would have said that Ciner’s implants enhanced his hearing above normal levels. The Sith tried to be unobtrusive about it but he was definitely eavesdropping on the hunter and Mako. What remained was the mystery what those two were talking about that was so interesting as to get a Sith to eavesdrop.

He had just finished the last preparations on the computer spike when Thorns and Mako rejoined them. “So, anything special I have to be mindful of?” Mako asked him, attempting to look like there hadn’t been an argument about her part of the job at all. He waved her over to his console and showed her what he had done. I took her only a few minutes to copy his code to her implants, skim its content, and make two suggestions for improvement. She was even better than he had estimated. He’d have to check with his superiors first but he’d like to make her an offer. With some intelligence training she’d be a valuable asset even if she wasn’t suited for field work. Thorns would not be happy, but Mako was a free woman, and there were other hunters for hire if he ever needed one.

Mako beamed at him when he playfully asked her for a private slicing lesson. Cute and likable Mako—she was naive, but he was under the impression seducing her would not help him to win her over for Intelligence. Better to play it safe with compliments focused on her slicing abilities. “It’s reassuring to know you’ll have everything under control while we are over there.” When he looked up he saw Thorns was looking in their direction. The helmet hid the hunter’s face, but his posture spoke volumes. Thorns was anything but naive. Before Smilo could say something reassuring there was an interruption.

A long range transmission was incoming, according to the ensign announcing it, not from the Brentaal Star. The captain waited for Ciner’s orders. With a nod the Sith sent his fellow apprentice toward their captive. The call was with high probability from a Republic source. Hiding the commando was common sense, sending the Mirialan to do it not so much. The man started to scream as soon as the Sith approached him. Using the chance Smilo hurried to the rep’s side. “I’ll bring him to the shuttle, no need to bother yourself with the task, my lord.”

The Mirialan only nodded his consent, but Ciner had other plans. “No, you’ll stay, agent. Everyone else who’s supposed to be on the boarding party, get down to the shuttle. Take our guest with you. Give the man a tranquillizer or something, but don’t incapacitate him. If he isn’t able to perform his task, I’ll have the head of the one responsible.” Ciner watched them leave the bridge. “I might need your insight, agent. I take it you are familiar with the details of the Treaty of Coruscant?”

Smilo nodded. “Yes, my lord.” The Sith revealing a deficiency was a surprise for the agent. An even bigger surprise was his interest in the Treaty. Was there any other explanation, or wanted the Sith to solve the situation diplomatically? A diversion? There were seldom exceptions to the rules, especially when it came to annoyed young Sith. Not taking into account the exceptions that had to be made for them, of course.

The agent positioned himself so as to not be visible in the outgoing transmission while Ciner accepted the call. It took a few moments for the blue holo image to flicker into existence and become stable. Surprises seemed to be at the sales today.

“This is Jedi Grand Master Satele Shan hailing unidentified Imperial vessel,” the blue figure announced. “I’m en route to your location with sixteen Republic vessels. I’m asking you to retreat before more lives are lost.” Wearing ordinary Jedi warrior’s garb she still managed to look as commanding as any admiral. Her tone was not unfriendly but there lay steel underneath. The threat was unmistakable.

Ciner chose to ignore it. “Ciner Ignis, apprentice to Darth Baras and heir of house Ignis. It’s a pleasure and an honor to make your acquaintance, Grand Master Shan.” Two nobles being introduced at a social event. When would he ask her for a dance? Withholding his name would have been futile of the Sith. SIS would have identified him within the hour anyway. The young man’s life had not been that of a recluse. Apart from his identity and his taste for women they would be hard pressed to find anything more useful than Smilo had. Good luck to them.

“I’m glad to hear a voice of reason.” The Jedi sounded astounded as well. “Let us end this conflict together. The Brentaal Star is under my protection. Our convoy was ambushed and I sent the Star ahead. We will reunite. I just crippled three Imperial dreadnaughts. I don’t wish to destroy you—the peace between Republic and Empire is fragile enough already.”

She would be too late. The whole affair would be settled one way or the other before she arrived. He knew it, she knew it. Did Ciner, too, know it? “Tell the Brentaal Star to hand over the general. No one needs to be hurt.” An offer from the Sith that wasn’t nearly as reasonable as it sounded. One that was impossible for the Jedi to accept. Handing a traitor back to the Empire on a silver platter would do irrevocable damage to the work of the SIS.

“The general has a role to play with the Republic.” No surprise here, the Jedi declined the offer just as Smilo had expected.

“That’s an interesting way to put it, Master Shan. You see, I have here someone who has his own opinion about the general’s role.” With as syrupy smile he turned to Smilo. “Why don’t you clarify the Empire’s opinion on this matter to the Grand Master, agent?”

Smilo tried to hide his shock. He would not give the damned Sith the satisfaction of even a flinch. By the look in the Sith’ eyes he knew exactly what he was doing. Ciner obviously had not forgotten who had opposed him against Kilran. Smilo took a deep breath. He’d salvage what was salvageable. With a dapper wave of his hands he ruffled his hair and made sure his ears were covered. Now it proved to be a good decision to postpone a haircut although the length of his hair violated the regulations by several centimeters. He had reckoned he might need a certain flexibility for his next operation. He hadn’t reckoned with falling on the wrong side of a Sith’s grace. He squinted his eyes, puffed his cheeks, and stepped into the scope of the holo communicator. Why, hello, it’s me, the UNDERCOVER agent. The one you usually don’t get to see. So take a close look. There was only so much that could be done with surgery that could not be traced with even a simple medical scanner. Prolonged undercover operations were impossible to do with holographic devices. The SIS would analyze his features faster than a spilled glass of water evaporated at midday on Tatooine. Before the end of the week anybody looking remotely like him should be prepared to raise an alarm with any Republic scanner in the galaxy. Years of careful planning undone by chance and a selfish arrogant ******e. He should have taken the slower ship. Avoid shortcuts—he had violated his own rule. Smilo regretted every single time back on Vaiken Spacedock when he had told Thorns he should not insult the Sith.

“You don’t really expect us to turn and run, Jedi? After you abducted an Imperial citizen? The Empire isn’t this easily intimidated.” Smilo watched the Jedi’s eyes narrow when he brought forth this accusation. He didn’t bother to introduce himself.

Satele Shan’s features grew hard. “You can make those claims if you wish, but we both know they’re lies.”

“You claim peace lies at your heart.” Smilo shook his head. “Stealing military secrets isn’t an act of peace.”

“The general can speak for himself—but I believe he does work for peace.” The Jedi didn’t even try to deny that the theft of military secrets was all this was about. “Incidents like this are happening across the galaxy, but only because we let them. Leave the Brentaal Star to me. If you don’t, then may the Force be with you—because the men and women aboard that ship can hold you off until we arrive. And you will be defeated.”

“We’ll see about that.” Smilo signaled the ensign with a gesture of his hand. “End transmission.”

“Affirmative. Ending transmission,” the ensign stated as she executed the command.

“That was rather rude, don’t you think, agent?”

At this moment Smilo would have liked nothing better than to wipe the nasty smile off the Sith face with a clean right hook. “I agree, my lord, that was rude.” They both knew he had not meant the end of the conversation.

***

The flight to the Brentaal Star was brief but gave Smilo enough time to assess the damage that had been done to his career as an undercover agent. He contacted Mako and asked her to send him a copy of the outgoing transmission of his conversation with the Jedi.

Ciner was sitting next to him. When Smilo hit the play button on his data pad the Sith leaned over to whisper in his ear. “I value your cooperation, agent. We both know the arms of Intelligence have a long reach. I made sure you know a Sith doesn’t even need his arms.”

Smilo stared at his data pad. Some kind of fog seemed to have obstructed the lens. Throughout the conversation his image was no more than a blur.

Most of the conversation with Satele Shan is from ingame.

As much as many players dislike Quinncedent, it is one of the most looked forward to events for me. I really like the drama and the ability to RP the whole emotional turmoil. Your SW despite his youth is doing well, working through it like a puzzle. I really like it that you allowed Zeirko to understand that Quinn is not stupid, he thinks, and doesn’t have the metagaming knowledge the player has that s/he is designed to win the story. Your reasoning is solid.

Ha-ha, I loved the interplay between the characters, and Ciner revealing the IA to the Jedi was priceless. It sounds like they are all set for the most amusing rivalry. It is cool that you are using the lore that Sith and Intelligence are at odds. Nice twist to the Black Talon routine run!

General reply-Thank you all for the kind comments regarding that last pair of stories. I was really nervous about trying something new and am glad people liked my attempt at 1st person POV as well as Lunan/Jadely.....and the drunk Mando's.

@DomiSotto: okay, I couldn't stop giggling at the images Dur and Jorgan's conversation invoked, but he does have a point about her armor.....

@frauzet: Oh, I just love the tension between Smilo and Ciner! You leave me wondering what that will lead to since I really do like both characters. It was also nice to get more insight to your agent.

@Jokad: I've only played one SW and a female one at that. In my head, I was more focused on the betrayal from someone my character loved deeply and hadn't really thought much beyond that. I enjoyed reading Zeirko's take on things and admire him for being able to handle the situation with such dignity, poise, and insight. Very nicely done!

I hurried down the dimly lit alley, careful to keep my footsteps light as I stalked my quarry. I was just about to tag him with a sleep dart when a rat climbed out of the dumpster I was passing and decided to greet me by hopping on my shoulder. A seasoned hunter would’ve ignored such a trivial thing, but not me. Rodents gave me the willies and this creature was no exception. So instead of capturing my bounty, I let out a pathetic yelp as I swatted at the disgusting little thing. Fortunately that was enough to convince my furry friend to take its leave, but it also blew my silent approach and my target bolted. Cursing my stupid reaction, that rat, and the Twi’lek who was now running for his life, I gave chase, my sore legs protesting with every step.

It had been nearly four weeks since Braden helped me get off Dromund Kaas and brought me to Nar Shaddaa. Those first few days were devoted to changing my identity, appearance, and habits. The first two were accomplished quickly thanks to the slicing skills of the young woman he’d saved as a child and a well tipped stylist on Nar Shaddaa. My habits would take much longer, but I was working on it. I missed my quiet home, my books, the comfortable sanctuary of my spacious bedroom, and tea. I still found caf revolting and had to force myself to drink the sludge, but as Braden kept reminding me, tea was an Imperial beverage and not a luxury the typical mercenary could afford.

My accent was another thing that needed some work, but having lived in Dromund Kaas for most of my seventeen years, that was going to take a lot of time and conscious effort. I had a knack for picking up languages, so Braden decided to teach me Huttese since I would be around it quite a lot in this profession and he hoped it would help curb my accent more.

He’d stayed with me for most of that time, leaving only a few days ago to meet up with the rest of his crew……well my crew now as well, and set up a base of operations. During that time, we trained extensively and by the end of that first week, I felt like I’d gone through a crash course in combat prep, hunting, and a wide variety of weapons. The hardest part for me was getting used to the armor. The heaviest thing I’d ever worn on my body was as a thick fur lined leatheris coat whenever we visited Csilla. Durasteel plating was a whole new thing to me and I believed Braden when he said I needed to start building up endurance for it right away after I donned on the set he gave me. That’s when I had my first doubts that I’d be able to participate in this Great Hunt and that was before the jet pack was added into the mix.

“Are you sure I’m the one you want to be banking your hopes on?” I asked, wincing as I removed the plating at the end of that first day, “I think a Hutt could outrun me wearing that stuff.”

“Most people have the same reaction the first time they work out in armor. You’ll get used to it,” Braden laughed, “I think Mandalorians are the only ones who feel truly at home wearing plating.”

“I suppose,” I murmured, not wanting to burst his bubble with my serious misgivings. He’d done so much for me, the least I could do was give this Bounty Hunting my all and try to make it into this competition he was so excited about.

Maintaining weapons had been fairly easy for me since I was pretty adept at tinkering as well as developing gadgets and tech. Using weapons was a challenge, but Father had taught me and Luken how to use a blaster as soon as we were old enough and I honed that skill rather quickly with both hands. I was clumsy with a rifle and didn’t care to use vibro blades or knives since I was more comfortable keeping my enemy at a distance but Braden was fine with keeping me to blaster use and encouraged me to practice dual wielding.

As for hunting, Braden had been impressed when I finally told him the tale of my escape from Imperial Intelligence and thought my designs would be very useful in the field. So he decided to play off my strengths with tech and gadgetry, teaching me how to plant tracking devices, bugs, and use distraction tools and darts to take down my prey before they got too close.

That was another doubt I had about my new life. The idea of killing someone deeply troubled me and I wasn’t sure if I could actually go through with it. I know that’s strange considering I intended to enter the Imperial military before this all went down, but I’d sincerely hoped I wouldn’t ever be in a direct combat role as I’d planned on entering either the research and development division or the medic corps.

“As much as I hate to say it, you’ll need to harden yourself to that very likely possibility,” Braden warned after I’d admitted my misgivings about killing someone, his voice weary, “Even if you hadn’t agreed to come with me and join my team for the Great Hunt, you are a target and at some point you would’ve had to choose between your life and someone else’s.”

“I know that,” I sighed, that very thought never leaving my mind, “but killing someone to survive is vastly different than taking a life for a bounty.”

“Watch the accent,” he gently chided before smiling at me, “However, if it makes you feel better, you only have to kill your target if it’s specified in the contract. In fact, many contracts offer a bonus for the target to be brought in alive.”

Despite knowing that in many cases that wasn’t necessarily a better alternative for the poor sap with the price on his head, I was relieved that I may not be the direct cause of death and we continued my training. Now there’s a lot more to being a Bounty Hunter than most people assume. You don’t just decide one day to be a hunter and go for it. It takes patience, intelligence, and skill. It’s also not something that is easily done by one individual, which is why most have a crew of sorts working behind the scenes. You have to check the Bounty boards daily, read through the list, get info on ones you might consider, then, in many cases, meet with the contractor themselves once you’ve settled on a job you’re willing to take. Once you’ve agreed to the contract, the planning stage begins which can take a few hours or several weeks, depending on difficulty, location, and travel.

After that first week on Nar Shaddaa, Braden decided to begin checking the boards for available bounties on Nar Shaddaa. We wanted to stay local as well as get my feet wet, so he was also looking for easy contracts like debt dodgers, petty thieves, or cheating spouses…..targets all of which I now have experience with.

The debt dodger was a piece of glaze cake relatively speaking. The client was a casino owner who’d extended a line of credit to a local businessman. Turns out this man had a serious gambling problem and bailed without settling up. The owner simply wanted his money and needed someone to haul the guy in so in order to collect. All the leg work had been basically done for us and all I needed to do was break into the man’s house and wait for him to come home. Other than getting tackled by the somewhat portly Human, it was an easy job and thanks to the nerve disrupter I’d used on Keeper and the Minister back on Dromund Kaas, I had my quarry subdued before Braden entered the shoddy apartment.

The cheating spouse had been an interesting bounty and tested me on another whole other set of skills that I wasn’t entirely comfortable with. The client was a quiet, high ranking Sith who’d discovered his wife was sneaking around on him whenever he was away. He was an ambassador of sorts, spending his time between the Dromund Kaas and Nar Shaddaa. He’d just recently heard rumors though and wanted solid evidence before he acted on it. He was away when he briefed us over secure Holo, telling us we needed to act quickly before he returned to the Hutt moon in order to catch her in the act. He gave us the location of his penthouse and the code to the servant’s entrance. He wanted us to get concrete proof, then meet him in four days when he was back.

My mentor had done most of the talking since I was still struggling to keep the Dromund Kaas out of my speech and accepted the job. The wife wasn’t stupid, dismissing the staff early on days she was meeting with her lover, but was careless in the fact that there was a pattern to their trysts. Two nights later, me and my trusty stealth generator snuck in the servant’s entrance after the last of the staff left. I planted a few tiny HoloCams in key locations, Braden confirming they were live from his position on the roof of a nearby high rise, while the young woman bathed. After I was finished with the cams, I hid under the bed of a guest room our client had recommended since it was seldom used.

Two hours later, Braden said he had plenty of confirmation pics and told me to make my way out. Unfortunately that’s when I discovered our client was wrong about the guest room’s usage. Apparently the couple liked to spread the love around and I suddenly found myself under a very active bed. By the time they finished, my cheeks were burning and having no sexual experience whatsoever, I was a bit concerned about the amount of screaming coming from the woman. One stroke of luck in my embarrassing predicament was that the lover dropped his pants next to the bed and his wallet fell out. While they were getting busy above me, I snatched it, took out the identity card, committed it to memory, then carefully placed it back where it fell.

I waited patiently for the couple to move happy fun time to the next location, but instead they decided to go for another round in the guest room. I didn’t think I could handle listening to them one more time and very slowly inched my way out from under the bed, careful not to move too fast and cause a telltale ripple in the air. After a few agonizing minutes of hearing their racket, I finally stood and was about to leave the room when curiosity got the better of me. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure the guy wasn’t hurting her and realized I didn’t need to worry about being noticed. I was actually confused, shocked, awed, and a little disturbed by what they were doing on that bed and quite certain that image would be burned into my memory for the rest of my days. They really did seemed to be enjoying themselves, but I had my doubts about losing my virginity after seeing that.

We met our client when he returned and gave him the footage, along with the man’s name and address that I’d gotten off his ID card. I was surprised by the sad look on the Sith Lord’s face as he looked over the pictures. I’d expected a more violent reaction, but he remained calm, paid us generously for our time, and offered a hefty bonus for us to bring the man to the penthouse alive. Braden accepted since we’d been prepared for such and had tailed the guy ever since that last tryst. As we had with the debt dodger, I broke into his house and waited for him to return. I took no chances that time and as soon as he opened the door, I hit him with a sleep dart. Half an hour later, we delivered the target to our client and that was the last anyone ever heard from him, something that still haunts me.

After that job, Braden told me it was time for him to meet up with the others so they could start getting a base of operations set up on Hutta. In order to get into the Great Hunt, one either needed to be a Mandalorian or have a sponsor. Obviously I fell into the latter category, but most sponsors had already been secured at that point except for Nem’ro the Hutt, who currently controlled Jigunna, a dingy industrial sector of Hutta. Before he left, Braden helped me select the next contract and made the plan with me, but I would be carrying it out on my own. This would be a true test of my abilities and one I needed to pass with flying colors because there was no more time for training.

My final target was a petty thief who’d gotten a little too greedy and cheated his partner one too many times……..this is why you should never assume the quiet intellect is a pushover. The client didn’t care if her partner was brought in dead or alive, both outcomes paid the same. Like my first job, this one required little legwork on our part since the client had a lot of info on our target so the planning stage had only taken a few hours, some building and refining of an old gadget design I had, and a trip to a second hand shop to buy me a dress.

The shopping trip proved to be the worst for me and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive Braden for the dress he picked out…..if you could even call that scrap of a sheath a dress. It was a shade of red that matched my eyes and showed off way more skin than I was comfortable with, which is why the wily old hunter chose it. Our target had a weakness for young, brazen ladies and that’s the role I had to play for an hour or two. After paying for the dress and a pair of strappy heeled sandals to match, Braden took me to a cantina, gave me some tips for catching a man’s attention and had me practice hitting on a few of the patrons. However, he ended up chasing one of the guys off when I was a little too successful.

My success in that department would’ve made Mother proud. Once I hit puberty, she began including me on the guest list whenever she accepted an invitation to a party or ball hosted by a Chiss family, constantly encouraging me to smile and flirt with their eligible sons. On one occasion, she even gave me a push up bra so I would have some cleavage to show off. I loved my Mother and missed her dearly, but I sorely wished I’d had Luken’s guts and stood up to our mother’s matchmaking like he did, telling her he’d settle down when he was damn well good and ready. Braden wasn’t as thrilled with my success as my mother would’ve been, but it was more of a fatherly disapproval than anything else.

The next day, Braden left Nar Shaddaa and I began primping for a night out on the town, praying I was successful with part one of the plan before I ended up shooting anyone for getting too frisky. I had that small blaster, some credsticks, and a tiny vial that held a sophisticated pill sized transmitter which would stay invisible for the next six hours, long enough to be put in a drink and swallowed without being discovered. It was a modified version of a gadget I’d invented to get back at my brother’s crewmate after the nasty Rattataki was less than pleasant to me. Only instead of a transmitter inside, it gave off high frequency sound waves that could be heard by most animals and after her next visit, she’d been plagued by random animal attacks for a couple of days.

Despite my major unease at being what I felt was practically naked, the plan worked. The sly Twi’lek was paying more attention to what I was barely wearing instead of his drink. One gallant act of retrieving the purse I’d accidently dropped……maybe not so gallant because I’m pretty sure he was trying to look up my dress, was all it took for me to doctor his drink and I was in business. Half an hour later, I excused myself to the ladies room and slipped out of the cantina amongst a group of tipsy women.

As soon as I got back to the cheap room I called home these days, I ditched the dress and strapped into my work attire, still feeling bogged down by the weight but more agile wearing it than I had been that first week. I turned the laptop I’d splurged on in a local pawn shop and brought up the tracking program. I linked the feed to my datapad and a moment later, my target was a red dot leaving the cantina. My client specifically requested her dirty partner’s untimely demise or disappearance look like a random act that couldn’t be linked back to her. Apparently there really was an honor amongst thieves and killing one of your own was a huge no-no even if they had it coming.

I quickly strapped my blasters to my belt, slipping some of my favorite gadgets into the pouches, grabbed my pack, and headed out. I secured the datapad into the holder on the speeder that I rented with the room and began my first hunt alone.

The Twi’lek was fast and well ahead of me, but he was also sloppy and made a big mistake when he rounded the corner up ahead. I felt the surge of adrenaline that came with impending victory as I turned the corner.

“It’s over,” I called out, entering the dead end alleyway, shaking my head as I watched the desperate male try to scale the wall.

He must’ve finally realized that as well, and faster than I could blink, he had a charged blaster pointed at me and was firing. I had to admire his tenacity, but that didn’t mean I was going to stand there and let him shoot me. I dodged his fire as best I could, the plating deflecting anything else, and loaded up a tranq dart. Before I could fire, however, he landed a lucky shot that vaporized it, then a second that hit one of the lines on my jetpack. I quickly unbuckled the heavy pack, letting it drop to the ground as I dove for cover seconds before it ignited. The Twi’lek pressed his advantage, pulling out a nasty looking vibro knife as he ran towards me. I didn’t have time think, only react……it was down to kill or be killed. I charged both blasters and fired with the deadly accuracy I’d acquired through years of practice with my father. My target never made it to me, his body hitting the ground a few feet away. I felt numb as I got up and crept over to where he lay. I looked down to see his vacant eyes staring at the sky….my first kill. A second later, I ducked behind the dumpster and vomited.

I felt like I lost something I could never get back when I took that Twi’lek’s life, but I knew then that I’d never be able to harden myself into an emotionless being like Keeper and the Minister. Nor would I ever be able to revel in the glory of the hunt and celebrate my kills like the Mandalorians did. I might not be the same young woman that left my home with the Minister of Intelligence four weeks ago, but despite my progress, I still felt like a fish out of water.

@DogeDandolo- First off, welcome! Glad you decided to join us! Didn't read the first one cause my Inq is still on Voss, but I liked the second one. Fun interaction/comradery between the two of them.

@Frauzet- Enjoying Black Talon even more since I got caught up. It looks like Ru has pretty much embraced being a Sith. I like that Thorns found a way to get her to stay behind without making her fell useless. Heroes with tact are in short supply sometimes. I always wondered about the agent stuff as well. Does no one figure out who they are, even after being in all these high-profile operations?

@AKHadeed- Why do I get the feeling that this missing girl is going to be a far more complicated job than it seems. And Republic Commando is the perfect reason to include tons of HUD. Glad to find another fan!

@HadeedAK- I've never given much thought to the day-to-day workings of the Sith in that way, but I guess you'd have to have a lot of people who weren't constantly battling, etc. to maintain your order. I'm still loving how little the two of them understand each other, while understanding each other so well.

@Alaurin- Agent spoilers, sorry

@Kitar- I hardly ever meet people who take the DS option on Eseless. I liked that Ka'van manages to find additional methods of securing his deal. Poor Assara, though. I wouldn't wish being captured by Kilran on anyone. I'm surprised Jax wasn't more upset.

@DomiSotto- I laughed at the first bit (I wonder which armor set Dur was wearing?) and actually felt kind of sorry for Quinn and Becchino in the second one. Being hurt is no fun, having to take care of someone you care about who's hurt is no fun, and being forced to accept help you don't want but desperately need is sure no fun either.

@Jokad- Warrior spoilers, sorry

Why do I never get the easy jobs? You’d think an official Republic privateer would get top-notch stuff, but no. Instead, I’m stuck in some skeezy bar on Nar Shadda, waiting for a contact to show and wondering why in all the bright stars I have to be the one to meet this guy. Feyte or Eyrie and a couple of their Jedi buddies could protect him better than I could. Heck, and if it had to be someone officially connected to the Republic, Major Dayne could do it. So how did I get stuck picking up some defector?

Bowdaar growls beside me, complaining about how hot it is in here. I don’t mind it so much, but I guess all that fur would make you sweat a bit. “Sorry, big guy. You’d think he’d be on time for something as important as this.”

He snarfs agreement and returns to his drink. It’s taken a lot of work, but I can understand almost all of what he says now. Risha and I also managed to find a drink that doesn’t disagree with wookie digestive systems, so he’s really part of the family now. I take a sip of my own Nexu Tail and slide another glance around the crowded room. Is that- yeah, it’s him.

He’s looking around, obviously searching for me. We make eye contact and I blink the prearranged signal- two short blinks, then one long one, then eyes open for five seconds. OK, I’ll admit it. Playing secret agent is kind of fun. The guy- a plan-looking human man in his early forties, probably- walks casually up to the bar and sits next to me. Thank the Force there was an empty seat there.

“Can you get me out or not?” he says too loudly as soon as the bartender takes his order. Corellian brandy. Not sure what that says about him.

“Are you insane? Why don’t you just shout it from the top of the karking hutt statue while you’re at it?”

He looks appropriately scolded and finishes his drink, then walks over to one of the dancing girls and does his best to look like he’s watching her. I roll my eyes. How did he ever make it to the point of getting the message to SIS that he wanted to defect? Akkavi can act better than he can.

I finish my drink and lead Bowdaar out of the bar. The streets of Nar Shadda are still full of glowy lights and shiny speeders, and a twi’lek and a wookie have no problem blending in. The guy follows us at a distance, and I roll my eyes. He’s making it so obvious. Even I can tail someone better than that. I stop and shove my way back to him. “Why don’t you just walk with us?”

“OK.” He seems relieved. We walk down the street, trying hard to look like we’re just wandering along for no reason when I realize that something’s wrong.

“Hey, big guy, there’s someone behind us.”

Bowdaar looks back and growls. “It’s one of the gangs. You have the worst luck.”

At least it’s not the Empire. I didn’t sign up to fight on this one. Still, the guy hears us and starts walking faster.

“Slow down!” I hiss. He does, but keeps looking back.

We turn down another street and head towards the taxi that will take us back to the spaceport. I have a bad feeling about this. It’s too quiet here.

Suddenly, Bowdaar shoves me aside and roar. I hit the ground swearing and struggle to my feet as the street erupts into blaster fire. Bowdaar charges into the fight and I pull out my pistols, firing into the cluster of thugs. Our contact screams like a girl and dives behind a box.

I feel a tickle on the back of my neck like I always do right before someone starts shooting at me and turn just in time to see another set of thugs running at us. Well, this just got interesting. Taking out the one with the blaster rifle, I start in on the knife guys. There’s like five of them and they’re all wearing some sort of body armor that makes them hard to kill. The lead, a Houk, is almost at me and I feel just a little bit scared-

And then Bowdaar dives forward, roaring at the top of his lungs. I jump backward and fall on my butt, wincing at the

noise. But there’s not time to complain. The thug is trying to stab him and I can’t get a shot off. Trying not to shout and distract him, I watch, looking around for more gangsters.

Bowdaar manages to get on top of the Houk and hold him down, but he’s having trouble reaching his sword and switches to trying to choke him instead. I’m just about to try and shoot anyway when the thug goes limp. “Is he dead?” I say.

“Not quite.”

“Hmm.” We can’t take him with us, and I don’t want to take the time to go find a cop (not that you could find one on Nar Shadda anyway). “Leave him, I guess. It’s not like we’re going to be around much longer.”

Bowdaar grunts agreement. As he gets up, I notice that his fur is dark on his side. “Are you hurt?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve survived much worse. How is the other guy?”

I go over to him. He’s lying on his back, not moving. “Come on, get up. They’re gone.” He still doesn’t move.

Uh-oh. Then, I notice the hole where a blaster shot burned through his chest.

“The Republic will be angry,” says Bowdaar.

“You’re telling me.” I should at least grab his datapad, though. Maybe there’s something they can use on it.

I work quickly. Who knows when the gang members will be back, and even if we scared them off, someone else will show up soon. Most of his pockets have nothing but random crap in them: ID, comlink, sweet wrappers. But just as I’m setting down the edge of his coat, I realize that it feels different than it should. I poke around to find a hidden pocket in the lining. Inside is a single sheet of flimsiplast.

I read the neat lettering. Apparently, someone paid a man by the name of Delcte a ton of credits to kill our contact and take his place. Standing up, I hand it to Bowdaar and start walking back to the spaceport.

He follows, with a hurfing laugh. “I changed my mind, Captain. You turn bad luck to good.”

In the tradition of the stories I posted with Qyzen and Nadia, I wanted to do something that would showcase Jess and Bowdaar's relationship. One problem: I find his character to be extremely underwhelming. I can picture them having a buddies kind of relationship, but I just don't feel like I have much to work with. So, I apologize for them being underdeveloped.

Also, I know there's no logic whatsoever to what happens in this story, but I decided that Rule of Funny overrules where the Smuggler is concerned.

Why do I never get the easy jobs? You’d think an official Republic privateer would get top-notch stuff, but no. Instead, I’m stuck in some skeezy bar on Nar Shadda, waiting for a contact to show and wondering why in all the bright stars I have to be the one to meet this guy. Feyte or Eyrie and a couple of their Jedi buddies could protect him better than I could. Heck, and if it had to be someone officially connected to the Republic, Major Dayne could do it. So how did I get stuck picking up some defector?

Bowdaar growls beside me, complaining about how hot it is in here. I don’t mind it so much, but I guess all that fur would make you sweat a bit. “Sorry, big guy. You’d think he’d be on time for something as important as this.”

He snarfs agreement and returns to his drink. It’s taken a lot of work, but I can understand almost all of what he says now. Risha and I also managed to find a drink that doesn’t disagree with wookie digestive systems, so he’s really part of the family now. I take a sip of my own Nexu Tail and slide another glance around the crowded room. Is that- yeah, it’s him.

He’s looking around, obviously searching for me. We make eye contact and I blink the prearranged signal- two short blinks, then one long one, then eyes open for five seconds. OK, I’ll admit it. Playing secret agent is kind of fun. The guy- a plan-looking human man in his early forties, probably- walks casually up to the bar and sits next to me. Thank the Force there was an empty seat there.

“Can you get me out or not?” he says too loudly as soon as the bartender takes his order. Corellian brandy. Not sure what that says about him.

“Are you insane? Why don’t you just shout it from the top of the karking hutt statue while you’re at it?”

He looks appropriately scolded and finishes his drink, then walks over to one of the dancing girls and does his best to look like he’s watching her. I roll my eyes. How did he ever make it to the point of getting the message to SIS that he wanted to defect? Akkavi can act better than he can.

I finish my drink and lead Bowdaar out of the bar. The streets of Nar Shadda are still full of glowy lights and shiny speeders, and a twi’lek and a wookie have no problem blending in. The guy follows us at a distance, and I roll my eyes. He’s making it so obvious. Even I can tail someone better than that. I stop and shove my way back to him. “Why don’t you just walk with us?”

“OK.” He seems relieved. We walk down the street, trying hard to look like we’re just wandering along for no reason when I realize that something’s wrong.

“Hey, big guy, there’s someone behind us.”

Bowdaar looks back and growls. “It’s one of the gangs. You have the worst luck.”

At least it’s not the Empire. I didn’t sign up to fight on this one. Still, the guy hears us and starts walking faster.

“Slow down!” I hiss. He does, but keeps looking back.

We turn down another street and head towards the taxi that will take us back to the spaceport. I have a bad feeling about this. It’s too quiet here.

Suddenly, Bowdaar shoves me aside and roar. I hit the ground swearing and struggle to my feet as the street erupts into blaster fire. Bowdaar charges into the fight and I pull out my pistols, firing into the cluster of thugs. Our contact screams like a girl and dives behind a box.

I feel a tickle on the back of my neck like I always do right before someone starts shooting at me and turn just in time to see another set of thugs running at us. Well, this just got interesting. Taking out the one with the blaster rifle, I start in on the knife guys. There’s like five of them and they’re all wearing some sort of body armor that makes them hard to kill. The lead, a Houk, is almost at me and I feel just a little bit scared-

And then Bowdaar dives forward, roaring at the top of his lungs. I jump backward and fall on my butt, wincing at the

noise. But there’s not time to complain. The thug is trying to stab him and I can’t get a shot off. Trying not to shout and distract him, I watch, looking around for more gangsters.

Bowdaar manages to get on top of the Houk and hold him down, but he’s having trouble reaching his sword and switches to trying to choke him instead. I’m just about to try and shoot anyway when the thug goes limp. “Is he dead?” I say.

“Not quite.”

“Hmm.” We can’t take him with us, and I don’t want to take the time to go find a cop (not that you could find one on Nar Shadda anyway). “Leave him, I guess. It’s not like we’re going to be around much longer.”

Bowdaar grunts agreement. As he gets up, I notice that his fur is dark on his side. “Are you hurt?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve survived much worse. How is the other guy?”

I go over to him. He’s lying on his back, not moving. “Come on, get up. They’re gone.” He still doesn’t move.

Uh-oh. Then, I notice the hole where a blaster shot burned through his chest.

“The Republic will be angry,” says Bowdaar.

“You’re telling me.” I should at least grab his datapad, though. Maybe there’s something they can use on it.

I work quickly. Who knows when the gang members will be back, and even if we scared them off, someone else will show up soon. Most of his pockets have nothing but random crap in them: ID, comlink, sweet wrappers. But just as I’m setting down the edge of his coat, I realize that it feels different than it should. I poke around to find a hidden pocket in the lining. Inside is a single sheet of flimsiplast.

I read the neat lettering. Apparently, someone paid a man by the name of Delcte a ton of credits to kill our contact and take his place. Standing up, I hand it to Bowdaar and start walking back to the spaceport.

He follows, with a hurfing laugh. “I changed my mind, Captain. You turn bad luck to good.”

That’s an interesting account of how one would become a bounty hunter. Small steps, prep, getting used to it. Felt very realistic. Of course, a couple of jokes here and there didn’t go amiss as well. I can roll along with this character, that’s for sure.

A Game of Tag.

Tageren didn’t do much thinking. Mostly, he depended on his reflexes, and when that didn’t pan out – on stims. Republic pointed, he shot. A good, simple life. He didn’t know why Garza decided to complicate it, by saddling him with Sgt. Elara Dorne.

Sgt. Dorne was a gorram philosopher. Sure, she expressed her views on common good and achieving perma-happiness via the dry language of rules and regs, but there was no two ways around it. She thought. She thought her way out of the Imp propaganda to desertion. Seeing she started out from viewing Pub as hypocritical demagogues bent on genocide, there must have been a lot of thinking involved. Tag took it for granted that Pub worked better. Sort of like those ruins on Taris: the mega-structures creaked in the wind, and wasn’t pretty, but they stood, and some even had ceiling and walls left. The Imps… well, for Imps he was slave material, ‘cause his skin was green. End of story there. No thinking required. Even if it worked Okay for Elara.

Then again, thinking led Travus and the other Havok Squad the exact opposite way. Travus thought and brooded, and ended up taking offence at the Pub. He went to the Imps to be appreciated. Fat chance of that. Nobody likes a traitor, not even the Hutts.

Fuse, the latest of the Travus men he hunted down, well, Fuse thought some more, after he saw the Imps up-close and personal, and decided to come back. Too bad he died for that. A good death, heroic and all, but still. Poor wretch. Tag felt a faint pang that maybe he should have done something different back on Tatooine. Saved Fuse, and to hell with plans… but he did not think of that at the time.

The Denova commander’s voice boomed in Tag’s ears. East enclosure, south enclosure, west enclosure, bombardment, air support…. Yes, SIR! Tag deflected some of his shield to the young Jedi with two hilts at the fancy swordbelt. Because the Force and lasers blades ain’t everything. He focused the cute girl with a medkit on his helmet cam and nodded to her to show she could count on him to cover for her. Looked a bit like Elara, and they wouldn't last long without a medic.

Then Tag hefted his riffle and off they went down the green Novare Coast. Republic needs the air support.

Was there higher wisdom than that? Tag didn’t think so. A good, simple life.

@frauzet: Thanks. I’m really starting to like Smilo and Ciner, and I didn’t expect the twist at the end.

@DomiSotto: Thank you, glad you like it. I also looked forward to the Quinncident the second time I played the story.

Tag seems like an interesting character. I get the feeling he’s smarter than he gives himself credit for.

@alaurin: Thanks, glad you enjoyed it!

Jadely’s training feels very realistic. I like how you show that she doesn’t become a bounty hunter overnight, and her conflicting emotions about her new profession.

@Mirdthestrill: No one seems to write much about Bowdaar. I liked your story, and it’s nice to see some companions who aren’t mentioned all that often.

Neyla took off her helmet and collapsed on her bed. It had been an exhausting day, but they had finally caught their mark. She’d told the boys to deposit the block of carbonite in the cargo bay and headed to her room to get the armor off and take a nice, long shower. Torian would just have to wait for his turn.

As Neyla took off her breastplate, she noticed a blinking light coming from the datapad on top of her nightstand. Missed message. It seemed like she just couldn’t get a break today.

Sighing, Neyla picked it up and scanned the message. It was encrypted and sent anonymously, but she recognized the sender anyway. This couldn’t be good. If her mother just wanted to chat, she’d have called on holo. Neyla started reading.

“To: Neyla Cadera

From:

Message:

Neyla. I hope you’re well. You should read this in private.

You are aware that Darth Tormen died in a space battle while you were employed by him. The circumstances of his death have raised suspicion, especially considering Chancellor Janarus’s actions after the battle.

Tormen has been classified as killed in action and I’m putting pressure on people to keep the whole thing under wraps and the investigation from continuing.

You realize that if it was anyone else, I would have supported the investigation and the execution of the hunter, should you prove to be a traitor.

I don’t know what exactly happened and I don’t want to. Don’t call me back. I just hope whatever deal you made with Janarus was worth it.

Love you, Mom.”

Neyla sighed. She should have known this would come back to bite her later. But it wasn’t like she could change her decision now.

As she got under the shower, Neyla couldn’t get rid of a sense of unease. It felt like she’d betrayed her family. In a way, she had, despite the fact that she wasn’t really an Imperial anymore.

She hadn’t seen it as a choice between Empire and Rebublic, at least not at the time. Janarus’s offer of immunity had been tempting, but it wasn’t really the reason she’d turned on her employer.

Neyla sometimes still found it difficult to live by Mandalorian ideals. Should she have acted as she did? Probably not. But she’d come to respect the Chancellor and didn’t want to kill him. And if she was honest, she’d been itching to fight Darth Tormen ever since their first meeting. This reason, at least, Torian understood.

As if on cue, she heard her husband knocking at the door to the refresher. “Cyare?”

“I’m coming,” she called back.

Neyla quickly finished her shower and got dressed. Who she really wanted to talk to right now was her sister. She considered calling Nova, but there really wasn’t any point. Neyla had no idea what her sister would say on the matter, and she didn’t want to provoke an argument for no reason.

Anyway, what’s done was done. Neyla pushed these thoughts from her mind and opened the door. There were more important things to worry about.

Thank you all for the kind comments. Glad you liked it. I always had my problems with rpg sessions starting with a 2 minute introduction in the tavern and then setting out for an adventure like having known each other and/or been friends for several years. So after discarding the we-are-all-a-huge-family-background I had in mind when I first played them all, I decided my chars would need a bit longer to get to know, trust and/or like each other. After a few stories I honestly have got no idea how this will turn out in the end. I hope there won't be too many of my earlier stories, that I'll have to declare AU.

@alaurin: I liked the collection of small "training jobs", and especially liked 'I felt like I lost something I could never get back when I took that Twi’lek’s life,...'.

I am looking forward to see how Jadely being part of Braden's team before Hutta will affect the course of events.

@Mirdthestrill: Regarding Ru: he tries to embrace what he believes is his destiny. I always cringe inwardly when I see a char ingame showing the title 'Cipher agent", but then again 007 manages too.

I liked the way you describe Bowdaar's fighting style, and of course I like the twist at the end. I just can't imagine a really unlucky smuggler, at least not making it till the end of the story line.

@Charmedseed: Congratulations

@DomiSotto: That captured the start of a pvp-match really well immo although I don't play much pvp. Letting your thoughts drift till the countdown starts. Checking who the enemies most likely first targets will be, so you know whom to guard. And all IC, nicely done.

@Jokad: Sorry to see you go, but I like the story as an ending. 'There were more important things to worry about.' That doesn't rule out a sequel, does it? If you'd like to share some more of your stories, we have a SFWC on tumblr...

She was easily one of the most beautiful women he had seen in his life so far; and definitely the most precious. ‘A life is only worth as much as anybody is willing to pay for it.’ He was a bounty hunter, he knew this was true. It didn’t really matter if you were hired to snuff someone out or to bring them back alive. All that mattered was the right price. From what Kilran was willing to pay for his target her eyes could have been flawless sapphires.

Those sapphires were staring at him unblinking from between loose strands of long black hair. The droplets of blood strewn across her face could have been freckles. The blaster aimed at him didn’t waver. Thorns wondered briefly how she had been able to acquire the weapon. “If you are Iolith Zairos you can put that down, lady,” he said with a nod towards her blaster that should have been unmistakable despite his helmet. He kicked at one of the two bodies lying between them. “These guys are dead. I am the rescue team.”

She still didn’t blink. Instead she frowned.

“You are Iolith Zairos, are you not?” At least she looked like the woman on the holo Kilran had provided.

“Yes. Yes, I am Iolith Zairos,” the woman confirmed.

“There is an Imperial ship waiting for us. Let me check the corridor and then we’ll get you back home.”

She nodded and let the blaster sink. She started to shoot when he looked into the corridor.

Thorns dove through the door out of the room. It seemed like the damsel in distress did not want to be rescued. From the initial readouts on his HUD she had not hit anything vital. He got up on one knee, aimed at the door and waited.

“Kark, Thorns. What’s going on over there?” Mako’s worried voice wanted to know.

“Mako, you got a visual on the corridor?” He could only look at several steps in each direction and he was busy eying the doorway to his target. There had been no fighting in this part of the ship, the combat had been concentrated on the hangar they had landed in, just like they had planned. That didn’t mean there was nobody left to investigate two non-responding SIS agents.

“Your left is secure. The cameras to your right conked out. Did somebody shoot them on purpose?”

The woman inside the room fired another shot at the doorway. Recalling the layout of the room, she still had to be several steps away from the door. Thorns risked a glance to his right. No way the cameras could have been hit by him. Maybe one of the guards had hit a cord. The corridor was empty as far as he could see. He set his blasters to stun mode. If Iolith Zairos hit her head it couldn’t be helped. He could only hope given the circumstances Kilran wouldn’t be nitpicky about her being unharmed. He started a silent countdown, three, two,…

In the room something clattered as it dropped to the floor. A wheezing sound followed.

“Get in here, hunter!”

Thorns recognized the voice despite the distortion through the mask the Sith was wearing. What? How? It was impossible. He could not have gotten past Thorns. And yet there he stood in front of him as Thorns stepped warily through the doorway, one blaster pointing at Ciner, the other at the woman whose feet were dangling above the ground, hands clutching desperately at her throat. The Sith had raised a hand in a gripping gesture in front of him. He was strangling her with the Force. A rough calculation made bidding his bounty farewell seem a preferable option to shooting at Ciner. On the other hand he had no idea about the Sith’ intentions. If he had wanted her dead he might have killed her already. But he liked to play games as Thorns had already learned on their first encounter. He could only guess at the rules.

He changed the target of his second blaster, aiming it, too, at the woman. “Thank you for your help, my lord. This is Iolith Zairos. The Grand Moff hired me to rescue her. I think it is safe to put her down now.”

“So you think, do you?” The Sith’ eyes sparkled but he released the woman.

As she collapsed Thorns stepped closer and kicked the blaster she had dropped out of her reach. She sat on the floor coughing. “Get up, we need to move!” he told her.

“Now, hunter, that’s no way to treat a lady. Small wonder she was trying to shoot you.” Ciner shoved him out of the way and approached the woman. He bowed respectfully. “Forgive me, my lady. I had hoped to be able to rescue you myself, alas the hunter preempted me. The circumstances called for my immediate and uncouth intervention. I would be disconsolate if I caused you permanent detriment.” The Sith held out his hand for the woman, and when she took hold of it he first indicated a kiss before he pulled her to her feet.

The Sith would be discon-what? “Hey, Mako, what was the name of that holo show with the hidden camera?” Thorns could only stare. Ciner had wanted to rescue her himself? How had the damned Sith known about her? Somehow Thorns doubted that Kilran would go through the trouble of talking to him in private if he told the Sith afterward. The Sith must have been following him when he sneaked away from the fight in the hangar once it became clear he wouldn’t be needed there any longer. Maybe Ciner hadn’t challenged him because he had been curious what Thorns had been up to. But why was he lying to Iolith? And why was the Sith so nice to her when she was a Force-blind? Kark, he needed to learn more about Imperial politics. He was already under the impression the sandpeople back on Tattoine would have been easier to figure out.

Mako interrupted his thoughts with news from Smilo and the Mirialan. “Team A just confirmed elimination of the target. You should get back to the hangar.”

Without another word the Sith left the room pulling their prize with him. His senses seemed to tell him that the corridor was safe. Kriffing Sith. What else was he able to do? Ciner had sent Ru after the general because the Mirialan was able to vanish into thin air without the help of a stealth generator. Thorns had assumed that Ciner didn’t possess this ability, but he had somehow gotten past Thorns. Thorns preferred his two blasters. That didn’t mean he wasn’t able to shoot a rifle, though, even if a sniper was better at it. When it came to the Sith it seemed best to avoid assumptions of any kind.

Using the same maintenance tunnels he had used on the way here they managed to get back to the hangar just as easily. Under cover of a fake sortie Smilo and Ru, too, were able to join them again. When they boarded the shuttle Thorns noticed Smilo’s eyes widening slightly as he saw the addition to their passenger list sitting next to Ciner.

The agent handed a small bag to the Sith when he passed him. “The general’s implants. I thought they might please the Grand Moff more than a thumb or an ear.”

Iolith closed her eyes and turned a few shades paler when she caught sight of the bag’s bloody contents the Sith was now inspecting.

Ciner looked pleased with this unexpected gift. “I’ll make sure to recommend you, agent.”

Smilo bowed. “Thank you, my lord, but please don’t bother yourself. I was only doing my duty.” Since the woman occupied his seat, the agent chose the next one on her other side. “Welcome aboard. I take it you are the hunter’s special assignment.” He looked at Thorns who nodded.

The woman introduced herself. “I am Iolith Zairos. Forgive me, I am still a bit shaken. I had not reckoned with being rescued.”

“Agent Smilo Noor. Please call me Smilo, my lady,” the agent offered with a bow of his head. Whoever Iiolith Zairos was, she seemed to be more important than sapphires. “Just a few moments until we reach the Black Talon. Although my mother swore by Abrax to cure any ailment, my father always preferred a good whiskey. The captain will happily part with a glass of his Corellian to celebrate your rescue. You’ll feel fine before you know it.”

She forced herself to smile at the agent. “You are too kind, Smilo, but a glass of water would be even more welcome now.”

“To each their own,” the agent concurred and went in search of a canteen.

The flight back to the Black Talon was a bit bumpy but the shuttle captain and the shield both did their job. Being part of a fight without being able to participate actively required some getting used to. Thorns was surprised when he realized the calm Ciner exuded helped. Across the aisle the Sith’ gaze met his. Thorns had waited for the Sith’ outburst, a reproach at least. He hadn’t endangered their mission but he had acted behind the Sith’ back. Ciner smiled before he turned his attention back to Iolith engaging her in pleasant smalltalk. The Sith knew some secret joke. Thorns was sure he wouldn’t find it funny once Ciner deigned to share it. Thorns looked at Iolith. The last feeling of calmness evaporated. His guts told him the price for gemstones had dropped.

Thorns would love to get a glimpse at Ciner's task bars

I am continuing to enjoy the rivalries Sorry, it sounds a bit flat, but i really do! I hope Thorn gets Ciner back one of those days. Nothing like a pretty lady to stir things up between a few alpha males. Wish I had her in my Black Talon run, but all we’ve pulled was an old general. Heh. And gallant, all very very gallant of Ciner.

Neyla’s moving through the piece is really good. The thoughts flow along with mundane actions, and it is easy to see her walking around in bare feet, drying out and thinking, thinking… nice.

@alaurin - kudos on your first attempts at 1st person! Speaking as someone who writes primarily in that style, I can tell you're doing a fine job. It's a great format for getting your main characters thoughts and emotions across, as well as for setting a distinct tone (humorous, tense, etc.). Also kudos for looking up the technicalities of Chiss naming conventions. I vaguely remember them from reading the Thrawn novels from forever ago, but I couldn't claim to know them today. I love the intro to your BH character; reluctant and underprepared heroes are crucial to a good character arc.

@Kitar - It's good to see a version of the Esseles flashpoint, which was one of my earliest memories of the game itself. I particularly enjoyed your description of the Sith Boss Fight with the guy I lovingly call Darth Trying-too-Hard (for being so obnoxiously evil)

@DomiSotto - as always, your soldier's romps with Jorgan are a treat, and fun to read!

@Mirdthestrill - Bowdaar! I imagine he's a tricky character to write for, but he sounds "right" to me, if that makes any sense.

"Is this really necessary?" I asked, looking with distaste at the rack of second-hand clothing.

"If we're going to be investigating, we need to blend in." Angharad Irons said, lifting a shabby tunic off the rack. "Fancy Sith robes will draw all kinds of attention."

When I had agreed to help Angharad on her latest job, a search for a missing girl, I had figured I could pull some Imperial strings, or do some archive digging. But she had insisted on "good, ol'-fashioned legwork", like she was an investigator in a low-cred holo. So here we were, on a foul-smelling trader's station looking for "disreputable" clothing.

I snatched the garments from her hands and hobbled off to find a dressing room. I was off the crutches, but my hip still hadn't fully healed. It ached to put my full weight on the left side. I did what I could with pain-suppressing meditation, but there's only so much you can do to speed the healing of a pulverized hipbone. Unless he was very wealthy, or lucky, a lesser man wouldn't have walked again for the rest of his life.

The "dressing room" was little more than an alcove with a drape for decency. I removed my own cloth tunic, folding it neatly. The spacer tunic, by comparison, felt like I was putting on a rough-hewn sack. The trousers and boots were next, and then I could see by the reflection in the smudged mirror that I was dressed like any of the thousands of vagabonds I had seen loitering in spaceports around the galaxy. The clothing unsettlingly reminded me of the simple garb I had been allowed to wear in my youth as a slave. I suppressed a shiver.

Tucking my proper robes under an arm, I returned to Angharad at the clothing rack, where she was doing a poor job of concealing a smirk. "Should this suffice?" I asked.

"Perfect," she said with a laugh. "Oh, you'll fit right in with the scum and villainy, boss." She squinted at my face. "But you'll have to lose the facial hair. Rough and tumble spacers don't go around with meticulous goatees."

"Absolutely not!" I spat back, instinctively raising a protective hand to my mouth. My small beard was a point of personal pride, and it would take something more dire than blending in with the flotsam of the galaxy to get me to shave it off.

Angharad sighed. "Well, at least stop fussing with it everyday. And let your stubble grow out a little. An observant criminal will peg you as an undercover Imp right away, otherwise." She looked me up and down again, barely containing another chortle. "Go change again so I can pay for these."

"Someone expects actual currency for these?" I asked, in mock disbelief.

Angharad rolled her eyes. "You might want to space the higher-than-thou attitude, as well," she said. "Unless you want to get into a bar fight at every spaceport."

"Wait a minute," I shot back. "When did you become my boss?"

"When you decided to help me on my job," she said, face serious. "You've got to follow my lead if we have a hope of finding this girl. I can't afford to have you stirring up a hornet's nest by Sith-swaggering all over the place."

I grumbled to myself as I headed back to the dressing room. She had a point. It's not that I didn't trust or respect her. We'd mutually saved each other's lives for months now. I cringed as I accidentally shifted too much weight to my left. Angharad knew what she was doing. I would just have to play the subordinate for a little while.

The girl that stepped off the shuttle was about as fresh-faced as they came. Clearly trying to remain solemn in the face of such a grand world as Tython, not even her years of training as an Initiate could keep the eager glitter from her gray-green eyes. She was here, on Tython, the ancestral home of the Jedi, and she was about to be apprenticed to one of the wisest Masters in the galaxy.

Aitahea Daviin reigned in her enthusiasm, closing her eyes briefly to focus her energy and excitement into a small pebble in her mind. She clenched her right hand at her side, visualizing the pebble there, and then opened her hand, letting it fall to the ground. She opened her eyes and breathed out, feeling more calm and centered. Even so, a delightful trembling raced through her body; where it came from, she wasn’t certain, but she almost felt as if Tython itself were welcoming her.

She paused to check her practice saber in its holder on her back, smoothed the wrinkles of travel from her tunic and pants, and combed through hair the color of pale gold with slender fingers. A few Padawans and other figures stopped to glance at the new arrival as she climbed down from the shuttle, steps quiet and eyes bright. Aitahea was an exquisite beauty, and didn’t seem to know it a bit. The delicate, pale features of the Initiate belied the strength of will and powerful affinity to the Force; her subdued, spare movements seemed more a dance than mundane walking and reaching. A serenity emanated from her, punctuated by a brief flash of a smile or nod of her silvery head as she passed, leaving anyone in her wake feeling remarkable. A few of the youngest Initiates were trying to understand why a Jedi was wearing a practice saber, but they were soon left with simply the puzzle and impression of the lovely, pale girl leaving the station.

@DomiSotto: You enjoyed my story, there is absolutely nothing sounding flat about that! Thank you!

@Hadeedak: Fish out of water, indeed. From the clothes, to the shop, to Angie being the boss. What I like best though, is that Zeedor isn't fully healed yet, that you acknowledge the severity of the injury and give him the necessary time to recover.

@Charmedseed: I especially liked the enthusiasm showing in the first paragraph where Tython becomes a grand world and her master is one of the wisest.

I sit down, close my eyes, and lean my head against the headrest. I take a deep breath. I am still shaking slightly. It is a good sign—I am still alive. I open my eyes and sit up straight. I am Iolith Zairos. I am a member of an important Imperial house. I am strong. There is no need to be afraid. I don’t dare to be afraid. He will be able to smell my fear.

Ciner has led me to the seat next to his own. Without doubt the young Sith is the one in charge here. He has taken charge of me, too. The hunter doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t object either. He occupies the seat opposite of me. He is still wearing his helmet. I wish he’d take it off. Now that he is lounging in his seat he is even harder to read. He isn’t as relaxed as he tries to appear, though. I have no idea who hired him and why, but he is intent on bringing me back alive. Wherever ‘back’ is. Until then I will be safe. I just have to keep my mouth shut as much as possible.

My hands don’t shake as I buckle the belts like everybody else. We are waiting for the last two members of the team. Ciner looks up and turns his gaze towards the shuttle’s ramp as if he expects to see someone there. But there is no one. Out there in the hangar the marines are fighting to cover our withdrawal. A lot of people died today, but I am still alive. The blood on my clothes is not my own. I’d give a lot for a shower. The blaster bolts that are visible through the open hatch become more and more blurred. I blink my eyes. I am not crying. The blur intensifies, shadows turn to mist, the mist becomes solid and a person appears.

A male human in dark robes carrying a lightsaber hilt—no, I recognize the style of his tattoos—a Mirialan. Without the geometric patterns adorning his cheeks and chin I might have taken him for a human, a human with a bronze tan. Only a closer look reveals the greenish shimmer of his skin. His head is slightly lowered as he crosses the threshold into the shuttle. Not that he needs to duck, he isn’t that tall, 1.90 at the most, judging by the gap between his head and the door frame. Wisps of his dark red hair hide his eyes. Is the color natural? I have never seen hair this color before; not brown with a red shimmer, it is all red. Straight but thick, the kind of hair that raises the urge to bury my hands in it.

The last thought retreats to wherever it came from as the man raises his head and brushes the strands of hair from his forehead. His eyes seem to glow. Not like those of a Chiss. They glow in a warm orange, not red, and it is only the irises. His gaze meets mine and time stops. He strips me naked, peels the flesh off my bones, and looks straight into my soul. I shudder at what he will find there. What will happen if he doesn’t like what he sees? I feel the fire of his eyes. A drop of sweat trickles down my spine. I can’t breathe. No! This is an illusion. I am stronger than this. I blink and time moves on. A small smile appears at the corners of the Mirialan’s mouth. The tattoos underline his cheekbones. They add some imagined teeth to his smile which has widened to a feral grin. I have always discounted stories of were-beasts as superstition; right now I understand why anyone would believe them.

The man may be an alien, but he is a Sith and he knew I was here before he entered the shuttle. What has he seen? I cross my arms and tug my hands under my armpits. I am cold. The Mirialan looks at Ciner and the quality of his smile changes. His eyes sparkle and he looks like a boy about to do mischief. It’s impossible for me to guess his age. Ciner looks over to the Mirialan. They don’t say anything, and yet I could swear they are communicating right now. The Mirialan sits down. I take a deep breath and force myself to keep my eyes open.

The shadow falling into my field of vision startles me nonetheless. The Mirialan’s eyes are probably still upon me. I imagine him grinning again. The source of the shadow is of more pressing concern. There is a man talking to Ciner, handing him a small plastic bag. This man is human, in his mid-twenties. Height slightly above average, I guess; somewhere between 1.85 and 1.90. It’s not that easy to tell with me sitting and him standing more or less in front of me in the confines of the shuttle. He must have entered right behind the Mirialan. He is wearing a close-fitting dark body suit. Reinforced elastic material; no unnecessary folds to get caught on something or make noise while moving. Soft boots. His stealth generator is attached to his belt between the blaster and one of his two vibro-knives. Imperial Intelligence? Yes!

Does he carry any other gadgets? His butt is somewhat diverting me from my search. I think, I like the suit—and its slender but well-muscled content. Being distracted from the Mirialan is nice, I really need to concentrate on what the agent says, though. My gaze wanders to his face. His hair is blond, bleached to nearly white by the sun. Adding the deep tan, the striking blue eyes, the even features of his face, amounts to a good looking young man. The need for a haircut and a shaving add a roguish touch. “…more than a thumb or an ear,” he ends his sentence. On short notice I can’t come up with anyone I know sounding more deferential. What’s in the bag he handed to the Sith? Ciner holds it up to inspect it. I recognize the contents. Implants—cut out of the tissue they have been embedded in—generously. My stomach heaves. I struggle to keep my breakfast where it belongs, while the agent fawns upon the Sith. I am Iolith Zairos, I repeat my mantra.

The agent takes the seat beside me, fastens his belt. He checks me out. “Welcome aboard. I take it you are the hunter’s special assignment.”

No, I am no assignment, I am a person. The agent is just another cog in the wheel. Because the wheel is Imperial Intelligence it’s still better to be polite. “I am Iolith Zairos.” I tuck a strand of my hair back behind my ear. “Forgive me, I am still a bit shaken. I had not reckoned with being rescued.” Nobody had reckoned with anything like this. I hope somebody has a plan B.

“Agent Smilo Noor. Please call me Smilo, my lady,” the agent says with a bow to acknowledge my social situation. Although he is easy on the eyes, the agent has not half of Ciner’s charisma. I wish he’d just leave me alone. But I am out of luck here. “Just a few moments until we reach the Black Talon.” The shuttle took off already. He likes to state the obvious. “Although my mother swore by Abrax to cure any ailment, my father always preferred a good whiskey. The captain will happily part with a glass of his Corellian to celebrate your rescue. You’ll feel fine before you know it.”

Abrax? I shudder at the thought of Abrax. Whiskey isn’t bad, but at the moment my stomach doesn’t welcome this idea either. I force myself to smile. I am a member of house Zairos, of course he tries to curry favor with me. “You are too kind, Smilo, but a glass of water would be even more welcome now.”

“To each their own.” He smiles, but I see it. He unfastens his belt and gets up.

I observe his search for a canteen. He returns, and I scan his face as he hands me the water. Nothing. But I know it was there. A small catch in his breath, the tiniest flicker in his eyes. He tested me. I failed. He knows.

Oh, that’s great. The take on the ending of the chapter from a different PoV. And we get to see everyone J Poor Smilo, not measuring up to CIner. Hugs!

So sweet. Arrival on Tython is a wonderful moment in the game when one starts out a new Jedi! Nice, light & crisp feel to the vignette!

Nice touch adding a flashback to Zeedor’s years as a slave when he changes. It’s a small detail but well-noted. Sort of like pulling an old show or sweater from a box stashed away for years, and it instantly takes you back to an event or a feeling… neat! And he has to sacrifice a beard! Way to go, Angie!

Ah, Tageren. You will always be Morat to me. Morat Dur, an Imperial-looking Zabrack playing a Pub Trooper, a brother to my main. How come you ended up a Mirialan and a brother to your own widow Glean Dur? I’ll tell you.

It all started on a long inter-city bus ride on a business trip. I started creating you, and I did not realize that the Imp Zabrack had to be selected separately for a Pub character. I guess, I was that tired. Besides, those red-rimmed eyes… no, just no. And the Pub one did not feel like it had enough cool macho Zabrackness.

And that is how you became Mirialan.Mirialans, they grew on me, even though I started the game as a Zab and Twi’lek fancier.

Your face started shaping up as I clicked through the selections. A long face, with narrow lips and attentive eyes the color of seawater. And, of course, your skin was the greenest I was offered. You are a Mirialan after all! It took me a few tries to pick a geometric pattern that emphasized those high cheekbones. And, really, after all the work placing those rhomboids across the forehead, I wanted it to be seen. So, sleek hair, combed back. Dark, of course. Dark’s the best with the light eyes like yours. I love contrasts. I really wanted you to be quite heavy muscled back when you were a Zabrack, but the heads rarely scale well, so as usual, I gave up on the Body Type 3, and went with a male model compromise. Doubt you mind it, Tag. Ah, wait! A small scar at the chin. Enough to hint at a brawl or two in your past, and not enough to make you any less handsome.

Now, name. See, Morat did not pan out. Neither did Marat, Morrat, or Moratt. Well, pooh. It had a ‘rat’ in the name anyway. No loving mom would call her son that. Save for a Sith, I guess. So, I just typed a pretty combo of letters, and that’s how you became Tageren. On the second thought, it sounds like Targaryen, which is not a bad thing. Hey, I was tired, and on a long inter-city bus ride!

Took some time to dress you up the way I liked it, but I think I finalized your look, Tag. The tan leather vest with fine detailing over a brick-red shirt, red pants with some stitching and a couple of seams on top of the pant legs, and the thin circlet for a headgear when I am in a mood to show it. When I want to see your tattoos in all the glory, I click it off. Better. Or not. Still not sure. Finally, a tommy-gun to fight with, and we are all set.

In the end, looking at you deliver your perfectly honorable lines, while looking straight at the camera with those earnest eyes, and at the neat hair, not one lock out of place, I can’t help but think I am playing a republic equivalent of Malavai Quinn.

Well, trooper, for someone who took his first steps stumbling due to the movement controlled by the one finger on a tiny laptop mousepad, you sure grew up nicely. Many good cutscenes to you, Tageren, and may the green-eyed Elara loves ya tender.

“I thought, I had made myself clear, hunter. You should have kept a low profile with this operation.” Kilran’s stare bored through Thorns’ helmet. The Grand Moff had acknowledged their success with neutralizing the general, but he would have preferred to keep Iolith secret.

Thorns shrugged. Ciner had thwarted that plan. “I might be wrong, but despite your intervention the Black Talon is still an Imperial vessel. And as the agent pointed out to me on several occasions, there are laws in the Empire that forbid me to shoot a Sith just because he is obnoxious.” He ignored the flood of characters appearing on his HUD. Although her face had changed its color Mako wouldn’t die of a heart attack this fast. Kilran had questioned his professionalism. Thorns was done with walking on eggshells.

Through the gasps of several attendants he could hear Rufuro chuckle. “I doubt there’d be many left of them otherwise.”

Ciner glowered at both of them. “Good to know you have my back. I should have killed you on Korriban.”

The Mirialan grinned. “You blew that chance.”

Kilran ignored the two Sith. “You’ll receive your payment once you escorted the lady to my estate on Dromund Kaas, as agreed upon.”

Iolith and Ciner looked up at the Grand Moff’s hologram. “Your estate?” they asked in unison.

Ungry interrupted his task of inspecting a buckle on Thorns’ shoulder. The monkey-lizard sensed the sudden tension as well as did everyone else on the bridge. Thorns got up from the corner of the console he had been sitting on.

“There will be a speeder waiting for you at the spaceport.”

Iolith lifted her chin. “I am coming home to Dromund Kaas. But I won’t let myself be abducted again.”

“Abducted? My dear, this is a misunderstanding.” Kilran made a small bow in her direction. “I only think it’s proper if you were present when our betrothal will be announced.”

“But…—I…—I didn’t agree to this.” Iolith gaped at the hologram.

“Your father did, my dear.”

“How convenient.” Iolith’s eyes narrowed.

“We will talk about this in private. Now is not the time or place to make a scene.”

“No,” Ciner contradicted, “now is the perfect time and place to make a scene.” The Sith drew himself up to his full hight. “Agent Noor. What is the punishment for unsanctioned impersonation of a member of an Imperial house?”

“Death, my lord. Public execution.” Smilo’s gaze flitted between Ciner, Iolith and Kilran’s hologram.

Iolith paled visibly.

Thorns stepped between her and Ciner. “If this is your way to rob me of my payment, I will shoot you after all.” He let Ungry slide down his arm and dropped him to the ground. For once the monkey lizard did what Thorns wanted and scampered over to the next console to hide underneath.

“Shut up, hunter. This has nothing to do with you. I don’t know yet what game Kilran is playing, but I will find out.”

“I suggest you mind your tone and your place, apprentice,” Kilran growled.

“Hey, agent. Whose side are we on?” Kaliyo still leaned impassively against a console.

“The law, Kaliyo, as always, sorry to disappoint you.”

Thorns wondered if Smilo meant he was always on the side of the law, or he was always sorry to disappoint Kaliyo. If the agent had a problem with Thorns sleeping with Kaliyo he hadn’t let it show. It would not be the agent’s only secret. Thorns crossed his arms in front of his chest. He had no idea what was going on. He’d listen—for now.

“This is ridiculous,” Kilran said. “It’s not like I need house Ignis’ approval in order to get married.”

“What kind of conspiracy is this Kilran? I couldn’t care less about whom you married. But I won’t stand by as you pass off an impostor as a member of an Imperial house.” Ciner turned to Iolith and pointed at the Grand Moff. “You obviously don’t want to marry him, do you want to die for him?”

Kilran gave Iolith no chance to speak. “I hired a bounty hunter to rescue my bride. Now you are voicing preposterous allegations. If this woman isn’t who she claims to be, I’ll carry out the law myself. So where is your proof?”

“It’s been a while since I met the real Iolith, but I know this isn’t her. She doesn’t smell right!”

“That’s your proof? She doesn’t smell right? She can’t be Iolith Zairos because she wears a different perfume than four or eight years ago?”

Ciner turned to Smilo. “Agent, I could tell, you also felt something was off about this woman. Now would be the time to tell us what you know.”

Iolith—or the woman claiming to be Iolith—held her breath, while Smilo stared at his feet. “I am not sure, my lord.” The agent looked up. “I met her during my time at the academy. This woman looks like her, but she didn’t recognize me. But then there are quite a number of people I met who would not recognize me again.” His gaze dropped back to his feet. “I am probably not very noteworthy.”

Thorns’ HUD blinked. <Or he’s one of the best actors I’ve ever seen. This isn’t the man we met on Hutta. Remind me to not believe a single word he says.> Mako was right. The man the Sith got to see had very little in common with the Red Blade. The chances of anyone mistaking one for the other were slim. The man they got to know on the space station was probably just another mask. What lay beneath? Thorns wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

Kilran scowled. “I get the impression this amounts to nothing more than a waste of my time.”

“There are stored blood samples of Iolith Zairos on Dromund Kaas.” Ciner did not give in. “I insist on a test.”

“Why wait until Dromund Kaas when you can have your test right now?” Rufuro came forward. “Leave her to me and I will find the truth. I already payed her mind a brief visit. And if she has nothing to hide she will let me in willingly this time.”

“No! I will do no such thing. I won’t allow you to violate my mind.” The panic in Iolith’s voice was unmistakable.

The Mirialan took another step towards her. “Your resistance will make the experience only more interesting—for me—and more painful for you.”

She took hold of Thorns’ arm. “I’ll come with you to Dromund Kaas. We can do the blood testing there.”

Thorns nodded towards the holo. “That’s his call.”

Kilran shook his head. “If you are wrong then it is my bride we are talking about. We will do the blood tests.”

“I know something you don’t.” Rufuro brushed some strands of hair from his forehead. “Ciner may not be able to explain this to you, but he is sure—and so am I. No more waste of time.”

Iolith started to scream when Rufuro took another step in her direction. She closed her eyes and dropped to her knees in front of Ciner. “Please make him stop. Please. I don’t want to die. Promise I won’t be executed, promise I can go back home. Please. I’ll tell you everything I know. Please.”

Ciner raised his hand to stop Rufuro. “Speak. Tell me what you know and I’ll send you back to the Republic alive.”

“Iolith Zairos was captured three weeks ago on Ord Mantell. There have been several attempts on her life. Those stopped after her father’s death. Since…”

“Wait!” Ciner interrupted her. “Her father’s death?”

“Her father and her sisters died when their ship was attacked by pirates. You didn’t know?”

Ciner glared at Kilran. “I didn’t know. But now I know why the Grand Moff didn’t want me involved. I was betrothed to the heir of house Zairos. Go on!” There was no sign the Sith was touched by the news.

The woman swallowed. “Since then there have been attempts from Imperial side to learn of her whereabouts. She is now the heir of her house and valuable. The Republic plans to trade her for Republic citizens in Imperial captivity. I just happen to look like her. I was told to pose as her, just to make it appear as if she were aboard the Brentaal Star. I am just a diversion. Please, I said I was her only out of fear you’d kill me on the spot.” She looked at Thorns. “Please.”

“Where is the real Iolith Zairos?”

“I am not sure, my lord.”

“Give me your best guess.”

“The Esseles.”

Ciner turned back to Kilran. “You’re welcome. It’s been a pleasure to be of service.”

The Grand Moff nodded and ignored the sarcasm. “I’ll remember this, and I’ll make sure you’re rewarded.” He addressed Thorns. “Hand the woman over to Agent Noor. Imperial Intelligence will know what to do with her. You’ll be compensated appropriately. Kilran out.”

The woman looked from Ciner to Thorns and back. “Imperial Intelligence? But you promised!”

Ciner ignored her. “Ru, do you remember the failed interrogation during one of your trials you told me about?”

The Mirialan cocked his eyebrows and nodded.

“Will you be able to achieve the outcome on purpose?”

Rufuro looked at the woman and hesitated before he nodded again. “Yes.”

“Do it!”

“No!” The woman tried to scramble backward. Rufuro was faster. Her scream turned to a gurgling sound as soon as he touched her. He sank to one knee beside her and held her head in both his hands. Her eyes rolled back in her head. Her heels thrummed the floor.

“But you promised!” Mako yelled. Thorns had to keep her from barging in between Rufuro and his victim.

“According to law I should execute her. I promised to send her back to the Republic alive. She should have chosen the quick death.” Ciner held Mako’s gaze. “I am not above the law. You don’t like my decision? Neither will the Republic. They will have a much harder time to forget her than if I had simply killed her. Maybe it will restrain them from sending more people like her to their death.”

Rufuro let go of the woman. “She’s all yours, agent.”

Thorns dragged a sobbing Mako away. He couldn’t avoid a glimpse of the woman’s face. The eyes are said to be the windows to the soul. Hers afforded a view into the void. Ciner was right. She should have chosen the quick death.