It’s rarely a good thing when someone needs you urgently for secret reasons in the middle of the night. It’s never a good thing when it’s the grandmaster. I padded into the meditation antechamber, looking every part the proper Jedi master everyone expected of the Barsen’thor. A woman waited within. A double-ended lightsaber dangled off her belt, seemingly forgotten. Human, pale skinned in her mid-fifties with greying hair and wrinkles. The faint scent of sandalwood wafted around her: perfume. That had always surprised me about the Grandmaster. She wore perfume. She’s the perfect Jedi, calm and serene, yet a devastating force to be reckoned with, yet she uses it: her one vice, I suppose.

Her perfume strained desperately against the overpowering smell of overcooked meat. We weren’t near the kitchens, and the Padawans hadn’t been cooking for hours. Scenarios ran through my head, all unpleasant. I felt my hand stray towards my lightsaber, tapping my bare thigh. Of course I hadn’t brought it, this is Tython: one of the safest places in the galaxy, or so I thought. Consciously, I brought my hand up. Hostile thoughts could cause my veil to falter, especially against one so attuned to the force. Instead, I surveyed the room.

The antechamber was small, with holo-pedestals displaying Arca Jeth and Vodo Siosk Baas, great Jedi teachers, millenniums gone. Once, back on Coruscant, the busts would have been made from marble, the masters eternally watching in silent contemplation. Now, only the memory of the busts remains, kept alive by the whirring holoprojectors. They watched from wither side of the room, flanked by a set of benches.

The remains of an acrid tang wafted through the air, along with bacon. Any other time, any other sight and I’d have wondered whether the kitchens were still open. Right now, I was more interested in keeping my supper than finding a midnight snack. I bit down on the wave of revulsion that threatened its way up my oesophagus. The last thing I wanted was to throw up on the scene, on my robes and in front the grandmaster. Instead I must’ve looked green, well, greener. I am a child of Mirial.

A human boy, possibly mid-teens, lay on the floor. He was tall for his age, broad shouldered and a tan-pink, as many humans were. Glassy blue eyes stared up at me, his face serene in death. Once, he would have been considered passably handsome for a boy, if not for his missing hairline. I don’t mean he was bald: it’s exactly as I said. The top of his head was missing, leaving an empty cavity where his brain should have been. The cut was precise, neat though blackened, with as little haemorrhaging as possible. I knew this kind of wound: I recognised them from my own handiwork. He had been killed with a lightsaber.

“I guess this wasn’t a training accident,” I quipped weakly. We both knew it wasn’t. Accidents like this are rare because initiates train with practice blades for years before creating their lightsaber as part of the Padawan trials. I glanced up at the grandmaster, and saw she had a similar tinge. Her face was sombre, but her eyes shined with an intensity I’d seen once or twice, reflected in an opponent’s armour. Someone had murdered one of her Jedi, and one of her students. She didn’t mourn his death, he was one with the force, but she would move the galaxy itself to find his killer. That was where I, the Warden of the order, came in.

“You know who he is?” I asked, feeling a wash of anger pulse up through me. This was Tython: refuge of the Jedi and the safest place in the galaxy. There has never been a murder here, not in living memory and we have Neti masters on world.

“His name was Castin Roark, one of the initiates from the squall clan.”

“I’ll need to see them in the morning, get a feel for him. What kind of person was he, who were his friends, did he have any rivals, that kind of thing.”

“I’ll see to it,” Master Satele stated, turning to leave. I didn’t stop her. I had my hands full with this case. My eyes wandered over to the victim’s serene face. Now that was just wrong. I know we find peace in death, but I’ve never seen anyone other than the Jedi Angral murdered over Alderaan meet it with such serenity. Reaching down, I opened myself fully to the force, but instead of fading from view, I let it flow around me, and echoes and imprints bubbled into my mind.

I touched the boy, and the echoes of his emotions hit me like a speeder. Chief among them was a serene pleasure, the kind one gets after a large delicious meal or after… so that was why an initiate had been in a rarely used room in a rarely used part of the temple at night. The quiet fear of discovery tinged the resonance: not too unsurprising. Individual views aside, the institution of the Jedi tends to be surprisingly conservative. Relationships of this sort between two consenting adults are frowned upon, and between teenagers are actively discouraged. There is a very good reason for this of course, the dark side can sneak its way into the unwary heart through love as easily as any other unchecked emotion.

Still, that gave me two things to go on. First, he hadn’t expected his death or seen the killing blow. Second, there was a possible witness. I just had to narrow it down from a pool of thousands. Okay, time to call in the big brains for post-initial inquiries.

Padding out of the room, I fished my holocomm out of my robes. I tapped through my frequent contacts until I found who I was after. I rang him, and she picked up.

“Look, it might be morning on Ryloth or Sleheyron or wherever, but it’s the middle of the night here. Oh,” Holiday paused, verbobrain shifted gear as she recognised that I was not, in fact, a holomarketer, “Hi Jedi, Tharan’s a little indisposed right now. Can I help?” Behind her, I heard the faint murmur of happy conversation in the background. It was always the same every time we docked on Tython. First and second nights in, Tharan would be inseparable from Fain and Master Syo, his other Jedi friends.

“Can you get him to meet me in the temple medbay first thing in the morning? It’s important.”

“Okay, sure: What about?” I paused. What exactly do I need Tharan to do? I require something to narrow down the list of potential weapons, so some kind of energy analysis, I suppose. A familiar voice filtered through the far side of the holocall. It was tinny and reverberated strangely, but I’d recognise Master Fain’s lilting tones anywhere. That changes things.

If Tharan was with Duras Fain, the drink would make him boast. Fain, being himself, would be sure to let everyone knew about the murder before sunrise. That would probably include the killer, whoever they may be.

“I need him to do something science-ey but can’t tell you precisely what over an open link like this.” She pouted and the link disintegrated. Ruefully, I smiled: she cut me off.

I know some people claim her to be nothing more than a personality program, but they evidently haven’t met Holiday. She may be an accumulation of ones and zeroes, but she loves, she laughs and she has genuine emotions that are faintly perceptible to the force. She is just as alive as any biological woman. After all, we are biologically just an accumulation of four amino acids.

Tucking my holocomm back into the robe pocket, I padded back into the chamber. Master Satele was gone but that suited me just fine. Slipping into a now-familiar meditative trance, I visualised a square metre grid over the room. Mentally assigning them numbers, I started cataloguing the crime scene.

@NervousHeroA- RE: Ice and Snow- sorry, skipping Agent spoilers

RE: Pent Up Stress- I was a little confused by what was going on here, but I liked your descriptions

@Feldraeth- RE: The Dark Temple- Nice switch when she gets possessed. I always loved the Dark Temple setting, and you made good use of it.

RE: Discovery- For a minute I thought she was calling Theron Shan, and was very confused. But I'm liking the idea of a murder mystery in the Jedi Temple. Normally you see that sort of thing with Agents or Hunters, but Force-users adds a whole new level of complexity to the deal.

@Divi- RE: Unconscionable- Smell really does come out in your story as a focus, without being a constant string of "he smelled X" and "she smelled Y" and "it smelled really bad". I like all the description (I love description and heaviliy descriptive writing) To answer you question, the thread does slow down from time to time, but it hasn't died yet.

RE: Absolutions Pt. 2- Your consular has more sense than half the characters in half the things I've read. just freaking talk about *insert plot-relevant worry here* already. Seriously! In all seriousness, though, it was another good piece with tight dialog and pacing. Love the LotR inclusion, too

@Alaurin- RE: Mission Accomplished- Aww, sweet I remember that outfit, and I'm glad Malley did too.

@Toatokua- RE: Confessions- Nice job using dialogue to further the story. Some minor grammar issues, but again, an improvement. And don't worry about it being too long, the definition of "short' on this thread is a little flexible

@Rhyys- RE: Kept in Memory- First off, I got a laugh out of the "I don't loom!" bit. As the short sibling of a tall person, I can agree with Jorgan that they do loom, regardless of if they mean to or not. That seems as good a reason as any to keep a blaster cannon. People keep pistols that were gifts all the time, why not a larger gun? Welcome again, btw

“They’re doing what!?!” Mallena tried to keep from shouting at the security officer, but his news was a little too ridiculous for indoor voices. “That sounds like the plot to a bad holopic.”

“I wouldn’t be asking you if I wasn’t completely serious,” replied Officer Stansun. “I know it sounds odd, but our plant was one hundred percent sure.”

“A hundred percent sure of what?” said a much-too-familiar voice behind them. Mallena turned to see Captain Silver trot over, head-tails bouncing and her dreadlocked companion in tow.

“It’s nothing, no problem,” she said. The twi’lek was a decent enough person for the captain of what she was almost positive was a smuggling ship, but her cavalier attitude made her more than a little annoying to work with. Besides, it really wasn’t her problem.

Captain Silver frowned. “You sure? Cause it looks like a problem to me.”

Officer Stanson gave her a quick look, then said “It seems that one of the local gangs has come up with a new method to avoid our sweeps and make an extra credit or two. They’ve set up a ‘clinic’ in this sector where they charge a small fortune to surgically alter the faces of their clients.”

“That’s not illegal,” said the captain. “People do it all the time.”

“This is,” said Mallena.

“It’s not illegal to get cosmetic surgery, but this isn’t just a little nose job. They’re getting droids to cut the faces off wanted criminals and replace them with others. Helps them get off planet.”

“That’s disgusting.” The captain made a face.

“More to the point, it’s making it difficult for us to find felons. I have reason to believe some very dangerous people have slipped through our patrols because of them.”

“So where is this clinic?” said Sgt. Jorgan, obviously trying to bring the conversation back on topic. Mallena shot him a grateful look that he didn’t appear to catch.

“Do you have a map?” Mallena nodded and held out her datapad. “I’ll mark it for you. Thank you so much for helping me with this. I’d do it myself, but we don’t have the firepower to deal with their security droids.”

“Say…” said the captain, leaning over Mallena’s shoulder. “This is pretty dangerous, yeah?”

“Yes.” replied Officer Stansun.

“And it’s pretty important to you to get it taken care of?”

“Yes…”

“How much would you pay me to take care of it?”

“I already offered Lt. Dayne and Sgt. Jorgan the job.”

“If I do it instead, will you pay me?”

“What did I just say?”

“Come on, they’re busy. They’ve got, you know, soldier stuff to do.”

“Hold on-“ Mallena was not about to hand off such an important assignment to the captain’s dubious expertise.

The officer sighed. “I just want it done.”

“OK!” Captain Silver jogged off towards the elevator to the rest of the sector. The man shouted something after her that Mallena couldn’t quite make out, though it sounded like ‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’

“We’d better go too,” she said to Sgt. Jorgan. “I want to make sure this gets done properly.”

“Are you sure we can leave off looking for the Trivoris long enough to work on it? If it’s let loose in the city, millions of beings are going to die, sir.”

“I know. But we’ll need a passkey of some sort to get inside the clinic, most likely. We can look for a way in while we find the canisters and that red case Sgt. Jaxo mentioned.”

“Your call, sir.” He sounded skeptical, but Mallena knew he wasn’t going to argue.

“Let’s go. And don’t call me sir.”

When she had been younger, Mallena had always wondered why Coruscant had a negative reputation on the ‘net and in holodramas. It had been crowded and noisy, yes, but hardly the crime-ridden, near-Nar Shadda levels of urban wasteland she saw in action shows. Gradually, she had come to realize that it was a combination of factors, including her mother’s diligent efforts to keep her out of the truly dangerous sectors, and the tendency of movies to play up the most dramatic facets of any given subject.

Places like the Black Sun sector were another. While the outward signs of day-to-day life remained- schools and

businesses open, people walking the streets on errands, droids welding on a construction site- everyone looked on edge. Entire families seemed to be living on street corners, trash was scattered everywhere, and a trio of young humanoids covered in Black Sun tattoos and insignias flipped them off as she and Jorgan walked down the street.

Captain Silver and her friend seemed to be having no such problems. Striding casually down the street, she kept her hands shoved in her pockets and a steady stream of conversation with the man, though Mallena couldn’t quite catch what they said.

“I guess we’d better take a look at this place, first,” she muttered to Jorgan. “See what kind of security they have.”

“If I know this type of criminal, it’ll probably be flashy, something meant to impress visitors. It’s not as tight as it looks, but the guards will know what they’re doing. Be hard to get in without losing people.”

“Unless we come up with some sort of disguise. We could get them to let us in.”

“Not after we’ve walked straight through the center of the sector in Havoc Squad gear. They’ll have us pegged as

Republic no matter how we disguise ourselves.”

“Too bad the whole defection thing is still top-secret. We could have just told them we were with Tavus and needed a new look to escape from CorSec or something.”

He stopped. “No way am I ever going to be with Tavus again, even as a ruse. I’m sorry sir, but I refuse to do it.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t expected him to feel that strongly about it. “Well, it’s irrelevant now, anyway. Let’s go neutralize some nerve gas. The clinic is near where the first canister was sighted, we can check out their security on the way.”

Jess and Mallena previously worked together in my Road to Coruscant series, which covers the Esseles mission

To all those who wondered, yes it was a speeder part

Nikeo hasn't a lot of money to spend, but he managed to get parts from the junkyard. One was a vintage engine he'd would not have been able to afford if it hadn't been defect. He took it apart, repaired what could be repaired, and tried to get spare parts for the rest. The result will look like a custom speeder ingame, nothing to please the eye, but Nik is very proud of it. I see all of his friends joining him regularly to have a chat while he is working on the speeder.

@AKHadeed: You made my day with your comment <3

I love the interaction between Angie and her sister, starting with the fact Kitzi doesn't even try to beat about the bush and immediately admits she needs help. Seems like she knew Angie would know anyway why she was calling.

@Oliverthefighter:

Wrathful Exposure: I think I can see why the Hand was relieved

The Broken Cypher: This was quite intense. I wonder if the end signifies a truce with himself, and who will take over once they are done with their enemies.

@Diviciacus: This part of Nikeo's background is largely unexplored. I mentioned in a story that the scar across Nik's eye stems from an accident with Ragan, but that is all so far.

Absolution, pt. I: Remembering Darth Lachris from Imperial Balmorra, I think it is very fitting for her to act in such a way. Given what we know about Jedi it's believable Synchordia is at a loss for an explanation for the effects Lachris has on her.

Unconcionable: The stench down there has to be bad. Always like Vette's sarcasm.

"Vemrin."

"That some kind of Sithy swearing?"

Absolutions pt. 2: I like the way Satele handled this, letting Synchordia come to her own conlusion.

@Feldraeth:

A steward of Ziost: "He never specified whom I should shoot at." He never had time to regret his mistake

The Dark Temple: I remember that line from Mako. It adds so much to the temple's atmosphere. You did a great job capturing said atmosphere. The locked armor was a nice detail.

A Warden’s duties - Discovery: Oh, CSI - Tython. I hope you'll give us more

@nervousheroA:

Ice and Snow: Ahhh, I started those quests a few days ago first time rep side. I regretted doing it alone, with no team to split up. I can't express how lucky I felt to be able to use my port without cooldown.

I like the idea of Sierra and Temple seeking shelter in a Republic outpost.

Pent-Up Stress: I like the banter between Kira and Doc, and Scourge's confidence regarding his vision.

@alaurin: Mission accomplished!

@toatokua: Wondering what effect the confession will have on the crew in the near future.

@Rhyys: Welcome to the thread

A touching story. And they do loom!

@Mirdthestrill: Will they work together in the end? I like their different reasons to accept the job. And I agree, a disguise would have been a good idea. It would be great if we could see effects of the clothes the chars are wearing ingame.

NervousheroA: Nice story, good flow and characterisations. I liked the interactions between Kira and Doc, and get why Valerie would want Kira there. Valerie’s mother isn’t the smuggler is she? Also, abandoned her husband on the Doombringer (the newly commissioned harrower with the silencer bolted onto the front)?

Diviciacus: Liked the way you wove smell into the piece without it being apparent. Also, liked the though you put into the corpses. The game self-censors them for taste, so few people consider just how many must be down there.

Absolutions part 1 and 2: I knew there was something important I’d missed out. Despite ranting on how Infiltration is totally a real Jedi style and not a tacked on rogue (/roll BLUFF), I never did talk about your story. I liked them both, especially the notion that Synchordia would go to the Noeticrons and ask the two memories of women there first over any flesh and blood woman, and then it’s her old master and the grandmaster, all members of the Jedi. Has she even considered asking a non-Jedi woman? How about Representative Alanni (that would be one hell of an awkward, but hilarious, conversation). Flippancy aside, I enjoyed the inner turmoil Synchordia has (and that sounds really wrong when it’s not in my head) and her steadfast quest to narrow down what these feelings are. As Bright_Ephemera mentioned in No Death, Only Wrath: Part III, the Jedi are woefully underequipped to handle errant emotions, aside from their whole repress or ignore mentality. The vote of self-confidence from the Grandmaster was a nice touch as well.

Now, onto your questions,

Eirue’s liberator is a Twi’lek. She’s Braca, back before she became a Sith Lord. The infra-vision is something I added in, since it seems sensible for twi’leks, who evolved on a tidally locked planet with a dangerously hot sunny side and a frozen night side to develop the ability to see heat as a survival mechanism. As for species with IR, Barabels, Chiss, Gran, Coway, Trandoshans, Chadra-Fan, Arkanians, Sakiyans, and Nexu have it from Star Wars (list from Wookiepedia), and pretty much all subterranean species in D&D have infravision (or darkvision in 3e+), including Dwarves, Derro, Svirfneblin, Troglodytes, Kobolds, Drow, Duergar, Deep Imaskari (FR only) and a whole slew of others

As for the Dark Temple, you’re spot on with Glasyabolas, the daughter of Asmodeus and Lord of the sixth layer of Hell, but I was going for a corruption of Delirium from Sandman’s Dream series, though Angel’s Illyria also fits (wow, I haven’t even thought of that show in years). Bultitudines_Lokes is right about corrupting Orpheus (though for some reason I thought his love was called Galateia)

However, Zul is a player character and she got possessed. I see this is story/gameplay segretation for sake of player enjoyment, as it wouldn’t be fun for anyone to watch the toon they have spent the last 5+ hours levelling become a crazy NPC. Without that caveat, it’s surprising none of the force-blind PCs or their companions (the spirits won’t go after the SI for plot reasons and you saw what happened when one got close to Roan) get possessed. They are easily more powerful than the other inhabitants of the tomb yet have few to no defence against a mental assault (everyone’s stun breaker has a 1.5-2 minute cooldown).

Alaurin: As always great characterisations with the Trooper crew and poor Jorgan getting that in the middle of work, and in front of his squadmates. I vaguely remember a dress in one of your stories, but I thought it was a long white ball-gown, not lingerie (unless I’ve really misinterpreted that scene). Quick question: was Jorgan fast enough to wipe it off his datapad before Vik copies the vid as blackmail material?

Toatokua: feedback? Okay, the combat was good: short, sharp and to the point. However, the quieter scenes need more description. I don’t know how you imagine your scenes, because everyone does it differently, but I see them play through in my head a few dozen times before putting them in a word document. Each time I focus on something different, like what character X is thinking and doing in the scene, how it relates to them and their life, or the environment and how it changes. The results can be surprising.

As an example, I’ve taken the reveal scene after Corso comes out of Kolto slowed it down expanding it out. This is skirting the edge of plagiarism and is closer than I like to go with another’s character. Obviously, this is your character, not mine and if you prefer I will take it out of this comment. I also filled in a bit of the backstory, but nothing beyond what you have said before (or so I think).There are also a few notes in parenthesis (these things).

Rhyys: Welcome to the thread.

Kept in Memory: Great pacing and believable characters. Honouring a fallen friend is as good a reason to keep a blaster as any. It brings to mind a story I once read about a father and his young son who played a racing game that kept a copy of the best time as a phantasmal rider. Years pass and the father dies (think it was a road accident, but that could be my sense of drama distorting the memory) and the now-grown Son finds the game while moving house. He plays it, almost beats the best time lap, and then stops, letting the phantasm of his father win the race so he stays with him a little longer. I think it might be like that with Zane and Rhen. Also, we don’t loom at all, it’s lies spread by short people

Mirdthestrill: Wait, we’re not supposed to solo 2+ heroics? Oops.

As for the story, I liked the difference in outlook between Mallena and Jessassi, where Mallena is straight, ‘this is illegal’ and preps to go rifle-stomp their faces in, while Jessassi is more interested in figuring out whether it actually is, and then preps to dirty kick every last one.

On Belsavis, prison world of Republic, the clan hunts. Good practice for them, many exotic, dangerous beasts. Will earn many points for Scorekeeper’s favour. Republic is strange. Within the clan, we chastise, beat, exile or if severe enough, execute. We never steal Jagganath points. They willingly steal Jagganath points, but see us as savage monsters.

Herald wishes Trandoshans stop guarding Imperial rioters. I asked to talk with Trandoshans, tell them of herald. Herald agreed, still wants guard for if they don’t listen. Is why I could bring clan to Republic’s secret prison world.

Am on Trandoshan prison patrol trail in Maximum Security Wing. Is odd, prison is building, can’t fly. Have tracked for three Belsavis nights and two days. Lek Svaal is in Republic base, watching over clan for me but also tracking. Is no great hunter, but he has way with machines. Relies on them for many sacred tasks. Chastised him on this, but allow him to continue. Perhaps Herald is right, old customs need new ways to stay alive.

Taste the air again. Three scents trickle on tongue. less thick, wrong way. Pad back to last strong scent. Spoor again. Ah, two trails, one stronger, one faint. I followed faint, hunters breaking off to herd rioter back. I follow the stronger spoor. Lek Svaal calls on communicator. Is noisy thing, all beeps and jangles. Only carry so I can heed Herald’s call. Lek tells me he found them. Mark place in memory, then head for his location.

He found compound hidden near break in jungle for waterfalls and road. I stalk up behind him, and he only knows I’m there when I rest a claw on his shoulder. He has things on him, a boxy little machine he holds to his eyes and another dangling off a strap around his neck.

“<They’re in there, Chief, but they have guards,>” he tells me, silly soft scale. They have guards because all camps have guards. Wildlife don’t stop because there’s a wall in the way, they hunt around them, just like us.

We watch them for a while. They are young but have hunter’s eyes. Killing hunters is crime against Scorekeeper’s favoured. So is leaving helpless prey alive. Need to stalk past them. Tap Lek on the shoulder twice more, a warning that I am scouting ahead. Lek pushes button on belt and vanishes with a pulse of light. Still there, but invisible, even to infra-red vision. He pads off, quiet but not enough an old hunter can’t hear him.

Stalk over to one of the waterfalls out of sight from the entrance and wade in. Water beats me, I ignore it. Drink some, is cool and refreshing after jungle’s muggy heat. I focus on the mantras of the Scorekeeper, waiting in what Herald calls meditation, until the waterfall feels warm. Get out and brush water from my armour and scales. Pick up pebble from water’s edge and pad over to near the entrance. There are four Trandoshan hunters, all young and easily bored. Patience comes with age for all good hunters.

I throw the pebble at the far side of the tunnel entrance. Young hunters, easily distracted, they all go hunt after the sound, weapons ready for battle. I slip in while they’re distracted. Water cooled my body down, I don’t leave a heat trail for them to follow.

Compound is large, with several buildings on platforms, by a large lake. Water spouts from it in brief pulses of steamy water. Snow lines the edges, where warmth from the geyser doesn’t reach. Few trandoshans like cold. None would patrol the area. Would leave tracks in sow though. Look at compound wall and realise solution.

Clamber up the cliffside and across, careful not to touch the snow-capped ground but also not to go high enough to get spotted. Make my way around the perimeter over the course of an hour or two. Can’t rush stealth. At the end, I drop down beside a pool of water mostly hidden by the platform the buildings stand on. Am hot and smell of exertion: need another wash. I do so. This time, I don’t linger. Spring water is hot, will make me easier to spot.

Clamber up side of platform behind building, watching quartet of Trandosha walk out of the vault, a lounge of hatchlings in tow. All look healthy, despite the cold. Clan must bring much game in and many points earnt here. Watch them pass, then sneak into the vault.

I pad down the vault corridor, keeping to the sides. There aren’t any Trandoshans to spot me, just trio of scent focussed Varactyls. Water helps deny scent, washing my spoor. The varactyls don’t smell me. Wait for them to pass, and then continue.

Vault room is large, full of Trandoshans from hatchlings to fully grown. They gather around an old hunter, their clan chief. Four trandoshan hunters flank him, all youths and all with rifles on straps. Rifles rested on their straps though the hunters looked wary, an honour guard. Step out from doorway shadows, into light of the vault.

“<I am Qyzen Fess, head of clan Fess. I am hunter and have many Jagganath points from my travels. I earn my right to stand here through skill and stealth,>” I announced, watching the clan chief’s guards train blasters on me. Crowd parts to give them a clear firing line. One word, they would kill me. He doesn’t give it. Approaches instead, rifle in claws but not raised.

“Merrshaulk Ssevrek, head of clan Ssevrek acknowledges your presence, Qyzen Fess, head of Clan Fess. Are you a new arrival to this forsaken world?”

“Many exotic beasts, harsh untamed wilderness here. World is paradise for Scorekeeper’s favoured. Why work for empire? They hate the Dosh, disrespect Scorekeeper and steal Jagganath points.> Ssevrek shook his head, scaled ruff quivering. Old, proud warrior, like self. Knew way things are is not way things should be. He bowed head forwards, exposing back of ruff, and shock collar.

“<Chained like beasts, Scorekeeper long turned away from Clan. Now we fight for hating Empire.>”

“<I can remove those all in one go,>” Lek announced, revealing himself with a pop of light. Guards train blasters on him also.

“<Is with me.>” I announce. Ssevrek acknowledged my wayward second with a nod. The guards lower their blaster rifles and Lek sidles over. Ssevrek waits for him to reach me before continuing.

“<More than collars, we are bound by honour.>” They are under an honour debt to the Empire. Will not ask them to forsake honour any more than their Jagganath points. Is only thing they have left. There is another way, one more dangerous than talk.

“<Understand, who is second in clan?>” Ssevrek’s eyes watch me evenly. Knows what I intend, that he won’t survive, but it is the only way to save his clan from Scorekeeper’s disfavour.

“<Ess Al is second to me,” Ssevrek states, pointing at a young Dosh near Lek, “<you seek a duel?>”

“<Issue a challenge to combine clans. Your Honour debt dies with you and your young will live free and equal in my clan.>”

“<Accept, but will not bare neck to you, Qyzen head of Clan Fess. If victory is mine, I take your head as trophy and points as my own.>” Ssevrek agreed.

“<All as should be.> I take a few steps back. Techblade comes out of sheath, ends crackling with silent hiss of heat. He draws rifle, big thing, thick and loud. Wonder, ever hunted with wielded weapons, or only rifle. Can use a rifle but not good for quiet kills: less skill needed. Better against people than beasts. Lek and Ess stand side by side, hands clasped together and raised. When they fall, they fall together, and the challenge begins fairly. They fall.

Rush forwards in zig-zag. Ssevrek traces me, doesn’t fire. Power cells are rare here. He Tracks me, and waits for a clear shot. I draw close, he can’t wait forever. Jogs backwards, keeping me in sight. His clan is watching from above. His back brushes the far vault wall. Drop the zig-zag and rush him. Shots explode on my shield, on my armour and burn belly scales. Pain is not important, saving fellow hunters is.

I close, and swat the rifle from his claws. He lunges, claws after my weapon, fangs after my throat. I shift shoulder, putting pauldron in way of his fangs. Too close for techblade, I let him wrestle it from one hand. Instead, I rake his face with my claws. Scales fly off and moist blood runs down them. He hisses, swinging my blade at me. I back off, out of reach. He comes at me.

Am used to fighting melee. He is not. He swings techblade down at me. I dodge to side, let my blade pass and strike. He is too caught up with momentum to stop me. Hand goes for blade hilt, keep it out of way for final strike.

Sink my fangs into his throat. Hot coppery blood washes scale chips down my gullet. He thrashes with last breaths, and little claw takes my blind eye. Pain rushes from empty void. Taste my blood on right side of mouth. Lost it fighting invisible creature in Kashyyyk shadowlands. Will talk to Lek about getting new cybernetic one. So long as it doesn’t remove scar. Scar is reminder for humility from Scorekeeper.

Ssevrek slowly stops struggling, body limp and lifeless. Remove my teeth from his ruff, and bring him gently down to the cold vault floor. His clan watches, and become my clan with victory. Look up, and see Ess Al and Lek Svaal nod, now brothers in clan through not by brood.

“<Switch off everything you want to keep working and gather around,>” Lek commands, turning to his new clan-mates. His new clanmates listen. I switch off my shield generator too. He pushes a button on his small machine, and blue hot pulse sweeps over us. Collars spark and crackle and then drop off like moult. The clan is free from Imperial collars, free to reclaim their Jagganath points and earn more. Rise, staggering up the steps. Ess Al approaches, clean bandages in claws. Accept them and his help staunching my wounds. Then I realise, Ess Al’s scent isn’t Dosh, it’s Dosha. Accept her help staunching my wounds.

Gah, why can’t Qyzen have a translator droid? Khem Val, Broonmark, Yuun, Teeseven and Bowdaar too for that matter. It doesn’t need to be big, just something like Deefour or M-TD (Lowie’s translator). It’d make their idioms a lot simpler to write.

I had the thought for this one a while back, when I considered how to do a taste story without having someone lick everything (perhaps using that mystery Cathar Sin). Writing this one was difficult, especially after I noticed how terse he is when talking.

I used to love to build and fix machines. I was an engineer in the imperial army. I loved my time fixing, and upgrading engines on ships. It wasn’t until the ship i was stationed on got attacked by the White Maw, (pirates from Hoth) that i began to hate my job. I did my job too well, repairing the ship, and making the damage caused by the pirates minimal. Eventually, I was alone in the engine room, apparently, for some unknown reason no-one else was trying to save the blasted ship. Pirates stormed the ship quickly, laying waste to all of the remaining crew. I did what i had to do. I rigged the ship to explode, sealing off the engine room, and explode it did. with the explosions roaring through the passageways, the ship, except for the engine compartment was disintegrated. I survived because that particular ship had a backup life support system in the engine room. none of the pirates survived. I did, barely.

I was stuck, alone in the floating chunk of debris that was the engineering compartment until another imperial ship registered life signs in the chunk of space debris i happened to be in. The ship retrieved me, repairing the small amounts of damage done to my limbs from the attack. I was almost as good as new. It wasn’t until a few days later when they asked what happened, that i realized what exactly had happened. I screwed up an imperial covert operation to find the leaders of the White Maw. The ship was supposed to be captured, with most of the crew killed, just so a few commandos hidden aboard could take out some insignificant pirates. The hell were the higher ups thinking? I could have been severely punished for “ruining an Imperial Operation”. I almost was executed for these “crimes” but some intelligence agent aboard the ship convinced them to send me to imperial intelligence instead, stating “I was perfect for a job in demolitions and covert affairs.”

And thus began my career in blowing things up, infiltrating enemy ranks. Naturally i hated it instantly. They instructed me on how to blow things up in ways i didn’t imagine, with things that i didn't even know could blow up. Then they made me construct machines designed to cause pain, incinerate, and you guessed it, blow up. As good at as i was, i still hated it. No-one really seemed to care that i preferred building/fixing things, not destroying them. They also told me because i had a pretty face, that i could infiltrate anywhere i wanted with the application of charm, i hated my job even more. Eventually they decided i was ready to go on assignment, telling me to pack my bags, i was going to Hutta, and i was to bring my machines, and my sniper. I would have to convince a hutt to side with the empire, using whatever means necessary. I still really hate my job.

Blayk is a somewhat grumpy guy on the inside, though he apears from the outside, to be rather cheery. He also hates his job in intelligence, and hates the sith even more. With an additional grudging respect/dislike of military authority.

@Mirdthestrill - thanks! And no, it isn't Kira. My various chars are effectively the Hero of Another Story trope, inspired by Striges 'Cleaner One' stories. So the padawan in question is a PC, my Twi'lek Shadow Ka'sher'an

@frauzet - indeed! But equally, perhaps the padawan in question will be overconfident...

@AKHadeed If you're including my stuff under the banner of 'your boo', may I say you're too kind? Because you are. Thanks

Six Years After Entering the Jedi Order

Emptiness. Endlessness. There is no self within the Force, there is no ‘I’ to think of. Only the constant flow of energy that unites and binds all matter. It is a river. An eternal stream that encompasses the entire universe in its boundlessness.

‘Good, Arkurul. You have grasped the essential truth of the Code - “There is only the Force”.’

Words. Reminders of the crude matter that lies beyond this luminous existence. And with them, a shadow and a threat. Ugly, dark, throbbing crimson; anger pollutes the flow. I - no, there can be no I - wait -

I open my eyes, cheeks flushed with my own foolishness at being so easily distracted. Across from me, Ahenobarb’s eyes open and meet my gaze. I don’t understand why he is so angry; I lost my concentration as soon as Master Tar Amick spoke. I quell the ember that smoulders in the back of my mind - it isn’t failure, it’s an indication of my limitations. I am still only an initiate of the Jedi order, not a powerful Knight bestriding the galaxy like in a holo-drama.

The old Mirialan steps into view now, his thin, stern features softened by a faint smile beneath the greying dreadlocks that draw his hair back from a high forehead marked by stark geometric tattoos. His hair is threaded with silver rings that chime faintly as he moves. I look away from my brother’s angry eyes, and wonder again about the meaning of our master’s tattoos. His face is pocked and scarred, weathered and lined from a lifetime spent serving the Jedi order, but his eyes give the lie to his hollow cheeks and frail limbs. A stormy blue, they are alive and vital, like gems uncovered in weathered scree. I can’t help but wonder, too, about the long, ragged, cruciform scar that runs from temple to chin, bisecting eye and lips and from right to left under his eye and over the bridge of his nose.

‘Ahenobarb, I sensed your anger at my intrusion. You must not be so easily riled, youngling. Always remember that a Jedi is nothing without control. There is emotion, yet…?’ he leaves the couplet hanging, waiting for its completion.

‘There is serenity,’ Ahenobarb mumbles, sulkily. He can recite the Code, we both can, but I don’t think he understands it. Neither do I, not properly. But from learning and experience comes enlightenment, as Master Amick is constantly telling us.

‘Good,’ the Mirialan continues. ‘Now, that’s enough meditation for today. Proceed to the training arena and continue the work we began yesterday on the Makashi Form, and then your instruction for the day is complete.’ We stand and bow our heads in synchronicity, as though one mind were housed in two bodies; a childhood habit that even now we cannot break. Ahenobarb turns on his heel almost before Master Amick has bowed his head in return, surging out of the meditation chamber as quickly as he can. I sigh, ruefully, and turn to follow. Master Amick’s quiet voice stops me.

‘Hold a moment, Arkurul.’ I turn back to face him, feeling more than a little self-conscious at meeting his stormy gaze. ‘How would you assess your brother, initiate?’

I begin to answer and then stop, a frown twisting my features as I consider the question.

‘I… I think that he is powerful, master. The Force is stronger in him than in me. But… he struggles with control. He is impulsive, aggressive - things that you teach us a Jedi can never be.’

Master Amick nods slowly. He seems very tired, suddenly, as though a great weight rests on his narrow shoulders. I cast my gaze down, unwilling to seem to be recognising this. He laughs wryly. ‘You are correct, Arkurul. Your brother is stronger in the Force than you, but strength is nothing without control and serenity. And that is where you have the edge. Go, take up your training blade and you will see. I’ll be in to observe shortly.’

I bow, and take my leave, excitement building deep in my chest. Form training is my favourite part of our lessons - on this, at least, Ahenobarb and I are in agreement. I arrive at the practice arena to see my brother tackling a training droid. His blade is a blur, striking blows left and right against the hapless droid. I’m not sure what lethality setting he’s using, but it can’t be very high. I see Master Amick’s point, suddenly, and decide that perhaps I will use a different training arena to practise my own Makashi.

Ten Years After Entering the Jedi Order

‘Ahenobarb! Stay your blade! He yields!’

Tar Amick’s words cut like a vibroknife across the training arena, filled with the hubbub of padawans and initiates practising their forms. Ahenobarb’s training blade freezes mere inches from my face, so close that I can hear the low hum of its active core and smell the fine hairs on my face burning. My own blade was smashed from my grip mere seconds before, a wild roar bursting from my brother’s snarling lips as he battered my defences wide and kicked me back off my feet.

‘Perhaps he should have defended himself better then, master,’ he sneers, and turns away. I push myself to my feet, recovering my own blade and turning to the old Mirialan.

‘My form was sloppy, master, he’s right,’ I say, rolling my head from side to side and feeling vertebrae crack and pop. Amick’s frown deepens.

‘No, Arkurul. Your Soresu is very good indeed, and I believe you will eventually show a fine grasp of Djem So too. What you cannot deal with, yet, is wild savagery and a completely uncontrolled blow.’ He speaks loud enough for Ahenobarb can hear, his face grim; the ragged scar and the hollows of his eyes seeming to darken around the stormy blue irises. Behind me, Ahenobarb slams his blade back into the weapon rack, and I hear him muttering to himself.

These last years have been difficult - he seems to struggle with even the most basic emotional control, and while he quickly showed an aptitude for, if not a mastery of, Juyo, even this did not seem to quell the anger in him. I fear that I am the cause, that my own reserve and stillness - developed out of a desire to avoid provoking my volatile brother - riles him to emotion time and again.

I glance back to Master Amick, only to find him gone - away by the edge of the arena, talking to a stern-looking Jedi that I don’t recognise. He wears battered armour and grey robes, nondescript and utilitarian. I shrug, and readdress the training droid.

Fourteen Years After Entering the Jedi Order

Ahenobarb's eyes burn into the back of my neck from elsewhere in the training arena. I shrug the sensation off, pace over to a training droid, activate it, and settle into the Djem So stance I am learning to master. Feet beneath my shoulders, weight slightly on my left leg. Right hand at the very top of the hilt, my left hand loose at the bottom of the hilt. Arms up and bent, blade angled downward. In conjunction with my study of the Jedi philosophy, I’ve found Soresu, of the three initial forms we have studied these last fourteen years, to be my strongest. The concept of an unbreakable defence chimes strongly with my understanding of a Jedi’s role in the galaxy and on the battlefield, should it come to that. Master Amick, however, is keen for me not to underestimate or rule out the benefit of fluidity, of not only the unyielding parry but also the decisive counter-blow that eliminates a threat.I take a breath in and out, feeling the strength of my body as much as my connection to the Force. I have grown tall and broad recently, the physical demands of our training beginning to bulk out both my brother and I with muscle.

I step forward on my right leg, pivoting smoothly as my blade lifts and I cut down and across, hard. Without breaking the movement I feel the Force stir and guide me, and as it does I pivot smoothly to the left, allowing the motion of my blow to bring me around and lift my blade up into a horizontal parry.Bracing for a moment, I parry to the left and right, deflecting hypothetical blows until an off-balance opponent reveals their weakness. Blocking low becomes another step forward, on the left foot this time, and my training blade spins into an upward strike followed by another dogged series of parries and deflections. I lose myself in the motions, letting the Force direct and guide me as much as my own momentum. As I block and thrust, my training blade is suddenly parried with a shriek of energy.

My eyes snap open - I hadn’t realised they’d closed - and I see Master Amick’s drawn features smiling at me behind the flaring green blade of his saberstaff. He steps back, gestures for me to continue, and as I take up Djem’s opening stance again I suddenly feel like the theory is slamming into place. I’m moving faster than before, I feel like the Force is showing me where to parry, where to pivot, where to block, all an instant before I have to. Against an active lightsaber I understand the genius of both Soresu and Djem So - and I also realise that my elderly teacher, Tar Amick the stern but kind Mirialan, truly deserves his title. His saberstaff is a blur of light and motion, his control is absolute, but I’m holding my own.

‘Bravo, initiate,’ he laughs as, in a final shriek of blades, he disarms me with a spiraling twist.

‘I think it’s long past time for this. I wish to name you my padawan, Arkurul. Will you accept?’

I’m taken aback, and suddenly more aware than ever of a sense of destiny in that rushing stream of golden energy. I kneel before my master, placing the training blade on the padded floor at my side.

‘It would be my honour, master,’ As I reply I hear a crash and a curse, and, turning, I see Ahenobarb’s training blade scattering a rack of a dozen others to the floor as he storms out of the training arena. His anger hurts me, but I quell my emotions. If he could but master himself, he’d be someone’s padawan before he could blink.

Nineteen Years After Entering the Jedi Order

‘It’s not fair, brother! I’m far more powerful! That fool Amick should be devoting his time to honing my abilities, not to guiding your fumbling steps!’

I ignore my brother’s ranting. He has become ever-more bitter and frustrated of late, even as I grasp more and more of the truths at the core of the Jedi path. I have accompanied Tar Amick - who demands that I not refer to him as ‘my master’ - to many different worlds in the last few years as his padawan. I have begun to learn the art of diplomacy and to see something of the Jedi’s place in the wider Republic. I have discovered, too, that much of what is occurring outside the walls of the Jedi Temple is deliberately kept from the initiates within it - for their own good. When my brother and I were tested by the Jedi and found to be Force-sensitive, the Great War had been raging for some time, although we were too young to comprehend what it meant for the galaxy - both overcome by a child’s excitement at becoming Jedi!

Even later, as we became teenagers, the true cost of the war was kept at a distance. I understand, now, why this is necessary. The Order, despite its losses, does not wish to compromise the training of its future generations by cutting corners and running the risk of losing unprepared youths to the Dark Side. I have stood beside my master against the resurgent Sith Empire, I have seen the horrors of war, but I have had a guiding hand and an example to follow. Perhaps more importantly, I have gained an appreciation of strategy and tactics, and Mas- Tar Amick has been careful not to remain in front-line assignments for too long. Now, though, there is talk of a peace offer from the Empire - hard as it may be to countenance - and so we have returned to Coruscant and the Temple.

My brother Ahenobarb, it seems, has gained little. He has brooded, festered almost, a dark presence in the Temple that, I know, has met with great concern from the instructors. Recently he has been receiving more personal training from two Jedi in particular; Master Rosalía Banik and her padawan, the Cathar Nox Rahal. I count Nox as a close friend, and I make a mental note to find the time to catch up with him while Master Amick and I are on Coruscant.

My silence is, it seems, vexing to my brother. He continues to curse Tar Amick and I, as I strip down and clean the components of my training blade, eventually growing apparently bored and angrily storming off to the training arena. I sigh, slotting the battered but familiar parts back together. Tar Amick has mentioned lightsaber crystals and that he has little left to teach me on several occasions recently, and thinking of this quickly diverts my thoughts. I sheathe the blade, attempt a holocall to Nox, but he isn't answering. I leave a short message - 'Nox, my friend! I have some liberty time, it'd be great to see you if you're on Coruscant.'

Until I hear from him, I will head for the library stacks. There is a veritable trove of lore stored away in those humming databanks, and I have always enjoyed losing myself in the writings of the past.

Some hours pass, my attention claimed by Cic'eros Tullia, a Jedi master and diarist who lived some two thousand and more years before this current age. His writing, while not always specifically focused on mastering the secrets of the Force, is nevertheless insightful and wryly funny. Eventually my holocom buzzes softly and I rise, dismiss Tullia's holocron, and step out of the peaceful silence of the library to take the call.

'Arkurul! My brother! It's been too long!' Nox's rumbling tenor is rendered oddly soft by the flickering holocom.

'Nox my friend, it's good to see you. Do you have time to catch up?'

'Better than that,' he replies, a predatory grin exposing his sharp teeth, 'I'm entrusted with a specific mission by my master, and by yours. Can you meet me by the Temple atrium?'

'Of course, I'm in the library so just tell me when.'

He says that he's in a taxi at the moment, inbound, so I make my way along the Temple corridors to the great atrium. There is a tension in the air;, the faces of my fellow Jedi are set and grim, and I notice that almost all of the Knights and Masters I pass are wearing armour rather than simple robes. A sign of the times.

The atrium is busy, despite the war. I see armoured Republic troopers on guard alongside the usual Jedi watchmen; the combination of Force powers and blaster fire can confuse and distract Sith long enough for them to be eliminated, the Republic has discovered... at great cost. I glance around, scanning the crowd, taking the opportunity to practice some of the techniques I’ve learned in the field - not just Force methods, but the military way of visually identifying potential threats.

My gaze is caught and stopped after a few minutes by Nox, standing directly across from me, grinning. We come together in a great, back-slapping hug, laughing aloud at the pleasure of seeing each other again. Elsewhere in the atrium I’m aware of laughter and smiles from those passing through, their flares of pleasure striking me as much-needed in this dark time.

‘Greetings, my friend,’ Nox says, releasing me, a rumbling purr vibrating under his words. He’s shorter than me, dark-furred, with grey and white patterns marking his face. I’ve never seen him wear anything other than the dark robes he’s clad in even now, but he’s often claimed that armour just slows him down.

‘It’s good to see you,’ I reply, ‘It’s been too long.’

He nods, gesturing for us to walk together.

‘It has. Master Banik and I have roamed far, and seen much darkness these last years.’ I nod in turn.

‘Tar Amick and I have done much the same, my friend. The returned Sith Empire is a terrible foe,’

‘Indeed,’ He snarls slightly, a rasping growl at the back of his throat. ‘The sooner you are knighted, my brother, the better. Your blade is sorely needed, I think.’

‘The Force will guide Tar Amick and the Council to that decision when the time is right,’ I shrug. ‘Although with Ilum overrun, acquiring a crystal might be… challenging.’

Nox laughs, a curiously savage sound.

‘You’re right, of course… but that is what we’re going to discus,’ he replies, as we turn down a narrower corridor towards a small office that I recognise as Master Banik’s.

We enter, both bowing respectfully. I look up to see Tar Amick seated alongside Master Banick, a faint smile on his thin lips. Nox’s master nods her head to me in respectful greeting - I remember him telling me that Rosalía is ever the model of the calm, reserved Jedi.

‘Greetings, padawans,’ she says, her voice rich and surprisingly husky. ‘You have both been called here because Master Amick and I feel that there is little left for us to teach you,’

I nod, trying to keep from smiling. I catch Tar Amick’s eye, and see the pride in his gaze as he speaks in turn.

‘Your last acts as padawans will be to forge your lightsabers. Though Ilum is overrun, there are other sources of lightsaber crystals still left to us. One of those is the ancient temple on Dantooine, in the Fields of Banir, and it is to Dantooine that we shall set out later today.’

‘Prepare yourselves, padawans. Meditate, let the Force guide your hearts and minds, and pack your gear,’ Master Banik continued. ‘Your time as our apprentices is nearly at an end. Be mindful, though, that Dantooine lies on the brink of the Outer Rim; it is a wild, untamed frontier world that is far from safe.’

We both bow low, and, dismissed, turn to leave the office, brimming with excitement. I feel like a child again, all the youthful exuberance I thought long-since tempered by wisdom, maturity, and training bubbling up deep within my chest. Nox catches my eye, his grin infectious.

‘Pack first, then meet you at the meditation chambers?’ He says, and I agree. We turn in opposite directions as we rejoin the main corridors of the temple, and it takes me a only few minutes to pack my gear. As I stride quickly through the silent corridors, I do my best to quell my excitement and allow the Force’s golden stream to fill and to guide me. That sense of comfort and serenity washes over me, and I relax into it as I make my way to a meditation chamber lined with plants and dominated by the statue of a stylised jedi. Nox is already there, kneeling before the statue, his own gear stowed neatly before him in a battered kitbag.

‘This is it,’ he says as I enter and take up a similar position. ‘The most significant part of our training so far,’

I grin at him, meeting his fierce gaze.

‘The beginning of the rest of our lives, my friend’

I close my eyes, and allow that golden flow of energy to overtake me completely.

To be continued...

@Mirdthestrill:

Worlds Colliding: I see your smuggler is a bit of a fan of sticking her lekku where they don't belong. I wonder how she'll react to another forty-five levels of that? I enjoy the way you set up the eventual group for taking out the Face Merchants quest - everything Mallena and Jorgan can't get away with to complete the mission, Jessasi can.

@Feldraeth:

Trandoshan Diplomacy: Qyzen's tracking definitely felt believable. Excellent work winding your tale into his companion story! And yea, he's so taciturn, but I find Qyzen's grammar inconsistencies occasionally hilarious. But man, I hate the word "spoor.' Make it go away

Honestly, I had never considered Syn asking someone who's not a Jedi for insight. Both my thought and (to some degree) by extension, hers, was that a regular sort of person with regular sorts of feelings and a distinct lack of Jedi sensibilities wouldn't provide useful (to her) information. Besides, Alauni's such an unrepentant jerk she's probably a popsicle from the waist down anyway. It doesn't help she's a career Jedi - the stereotypical started as a "youngling" we see from the prequel trilogy; in my mind, the Jedi take in almost any Force-sensitive orphan or urchin they can find if it keeps them out of Sith hands. Player characters even meet a few on Tython with just such a background.

@toatokua:

Beginnings: I enjoy how you turned an accidental and jury-rigged solution to something into a career path for your Agent. I do feel a bit sorry for him, and can certainly empathize with hating one's job.

Out of curiosity; is your native language something other than English?

@Bultitudes_Loke:

Beginning and an Ending, pt. I: Thoughtful background for your (I think I recall reading he's a) Marauder and (seemingly) Guardian. Eminently believable narrative concerning the Jedi, and long-term training. I must ask: are the other dramatis personae other characters of yours? I also sense something of a shadow of the Sacrifice trailer; this has me worried for Arkurul's safety.

Synchordia stood alone before the faithful reconstruction of the Coruscant terminal, Noetikons rotating slowly through the air before it. "The Order needs your guidance once more, Masters."

Still nothing. She bowed her head in meditation, her thoughts focused on the palm-size slate and green glass cubes. Slowly, as though the ancient Masters were roused from slumber by her plea, the dark terminal began to light up, a low drone emitting from the eldritch machinery.

In bright flashes, nine of the greatest Masters of the Jedi order blinked into existence in a semicircle around her. Their cyan light washed out Synchordia's viridian skin, giving her countenance an ashen cast.

Jesper Altax: "A broken vessel merely frees its contents."

Noab Hulis: "Your face is familiar."

Bastila Shan: "Though life has written on you, since we taught you the shielding technique."

Arca Jeth: "Yes, now I recall. hmph. I sense the Sith were behind our sudden plunge into darkness."

Vandar: "A moment, Master Arca. Was the shielding technique successful? Did it save your Master?"

Master Synchordia nodded. "Yuon Par is alive and well because of the lessons you taught me."

Vandar: "That is most excellent news. Now, tell us what brought you here..."

* * *

Bastila Shan: "...May the Force be with you, and with the Republic."

"Wait! Before you all go... Masters Nomi and Bastila, may I speak with you privately?"

The two Masters glance at each other, as if speaking without words. Synchordia surmised they most likely were.

Nomi Sunrider: "Of course, young Jedi."

Nine masters disappear in flashes of silvery blue, to be replaced by two.

The image of Bastila Shan stood with her hands behind her back. "What is it you'd like to speak to us about?"

Synchordia held her left elbow in her right hand, stroking the geometric design tattooed on her chin, and pondering best how to begin. "You are both Jedi, and you are also mothers, yes?"

Both the Masters' holograms nodded.

"You're considering becoming a mother yourself? That's wonderful! Has the council finally gotten less stuffy after..." - The hologram of Master Nomi was silent for a second - "almost four hundred years?"

Synchordia shook her head emphatically. "No, no. Certainly not now. There is too much turmoil in the galaxy with the renewed war against the Sith Empire. My duties require focus - and a level of risk I couldn't take were I with child."

Bastila Shan nodded in agreement. "I'm familiar with that. I was angry with Revan for some time after he traveled to the unknown regions without me, but still I understood why he left me - and our son - behind."

"I ask, because I am curious how you were able to reconcile your relationships with your husbands - and also your children - with the principles and rules of the Order."

"My husband would really have been the one to ask that of, young Jedi," Nomi said, smiling softly. "Oh, what is your name? I'd hate to call you 'young Jedi' constantly. I imagine that must grate."

"Synchordia, Grand Master Sunrider."

"I'm not the Grand... oh. Well, look at that! I became Grand Master after I was recorded into the Noetikon of Light. That's an... interesting feeling. I know I'm Grand Master, but I don't remember it. huh. Please, just call me Master." Nomi lifted a hand to her forehead. "It's easier on my head.

Ahem. I became a Jedi after my husband Andur's death, so I can really only tell you how a widow deals with the Jedi's stance on attachments. It was less strict in my time, at any rate; I raised my daughter myself and no one had any problems. Well, no problems concerning the two of us... it was a dark time for the Order, the Great Sith War.

Andur, on the other hand - I can try to speak for him. We traveled together a lot before he died. I accompanied him on missions and so on, along with our daughter, Vima. When we were in public, he was the model Jedi. Couldn't even tell we were married if Vima didn't call him 'dad.' At home or on the ship, he was the most devoted father a woman could ask for. And when we were alone... well, let's just say we enjoyed each other's company thoroughly."

Looking over at Nomi, Bastila Shan's hologram raised one eyebrow. "I can see you did. Those are certainly some... interesting memory engrams."

Nomi shot back, "I can see inside your head too, Bastila. You have hardly room to judge!"

Syn was certain that if a hologram could blush, Bastila would be.

"So that's what married life was like for Andur and I. He did his duties for the Order, Jedi through and through, and in private was a strong family man. He just never showed it to anyone else. If you want information on relationships between people who are already Jedi, you'll have to ask Bastila." She gestured to her left.

Nomi's counterpart shrugged. "Revan and I are hardly a model couple. He was always something of a stubborn sort. I believe after a time the Council simply... stopped trying to direct him. It was about as much use as trying to herd nekarr cats. It was a long time before I admitted I loved him, also. I suppose that must have counted for something.

Regardless, the Council was exceptionally... reticent about our marriage, considering we had both fallen to the Dark Side before. Our subsequent redemptions - at each other's hands, no less - was, it seems, an instrumental part of the Council deciding we were in no danger if we married. According to the records I'm reading right now, anyway. It's rather nice to be connected to the Archives again."

Master Nomi shrugged slightly. "I'm sorry we couldn't be of more - wait. Yes, this might be of use to you. It's attested in only a single source, and the data is very fragmentary.

It's a much older version of the Jedi code, from before Odan-Urr's reinterpretation. Someone seems to have made a great attempt to expunge it from records."

Bastila chimed in, "Narrowing of interpretation, you mean? I've never encountered the Code in this form, but this is what it says:

Emotion, yet peace.

Ignorance, yet knowledge.

Passion, yet serenity.

Chaos, yet harmony.

Death, yet the Force."

"You should show this to your Master. Here, I've downloaded the source into your padd."

"Thank you, Master Nomi. This ancient form of the Code... the character is much different. Even a cursory reading provides insight into certain policy changes. I will certainly have to meditate on its full significance." Syn transmitted the data to Master Yuon as she spoke.

"I thought you might find it useful! You're quite welcome, Synchordia. You're quite young to be a Master! Only twenty-four. Yuon must be very proud."

Syn nodded at Nomi's words. "I believe she is, although I have had little time to speak with her since my induction.

There is something else." Syn shifted her weight uncomfortably between each leg for a moment. "I'm not attracted to... men. Master Yuon seemed to think I'm not unique in this regard. Do either of you have any insight?"

The image of Bastila unclasped her hands to gesture towards Syn. "Homosexuality isn't a crime, if that's what you're asking."

"It's not that. It's merely... I don't understand it. Why I would be attracted to other women? My expertise is in the mysteries and history of the Force, and my Master's is in the history of civilizations, so neither of us are authoritative on biology. From what little I know about such things, it doesn't seem particularly helpful."

Masters Nomi and Bastila shared the same glance at each other, conversing between them in an instant. Nomi spoke first. "We won't bore you with the research into neurochemistry and genetics..."

"-by both Republic scientists and Jedi scholars," Bastila finished Nomi's sentence before continuing. "but work published by an uncredited Jedi biologist suggests that by sacrificing the ability to have their own children, same-sex couples in early societies were boosting the survival chance of their sibling's children. Who of course share half their genetic material with their uncle - or in your case, aunt. Two children living to adulthood in a pre-agricultural society is better than four dying, seems to be the conclusion of the report."

"This information is not entirely relevant in your time, however,"

Nomi continued. "Galactic civilization and medical know-how is more than capable of allowing a same-sex couple to bear children. There's several methods available, should you decide you wish to become a mother, Synchordia."

"If I survive this war, I will take that into consideration and return to you. I don't think I'm against the idea." Synchordia absentmindedly placed a hand over her stomach.

"But for now, my mission is urgent and I must make best speed to Hoth. Thank you for the knowledge and wisdom, Masters of Light and Secrets."

Nomi Sunrider and Bastila Shan in the form of holograms bowed together, mirroring the consular, and disappeared into inactivity.

There is no death, there is the Force.

I wanted to wait longer before posting this, but I also wanted to get it out before the touch prompt.

I decided to have a bit of fun with the interactions between Nomi Sunrider and Bastila Shan. They're both just high-fidelity holocron representations of long-dead Jedi masters, so I thought it would be fun if they acted just the tiniest bit irreverent. What do they care for sticking strictly to the code? They're long dead

Yay! My first time breaking part of a text out into triggery spoilers, Feldraeth-style. I felt it was necessary considering the view I expressed here - while not my own - is pretty controversial and I do ascribe to it from an evolutionary standpoint.

Anyway, link to the article from the Scientific American blog where a population geneticist (who is also gay) offers the opinion expressed in my story is here. Relevant section is headed by "Reproduction by Proxy" and is the last section of the article. For those who are curious, I suggest you read the entire thing. Science!

@toatokua: I liked Helksan’s story and that he decided to come clean with everyone. I can’t imagine that was an easy thing to talk about for him, not to mention worrying about the others’ reactions. I think you did just fine with Corso and the dialogue.

RE: Beginnings- I enjoyed the insight and background to Blayk, especially this line:

No-one really seemed to care that i preferred building/fixing things, not destroying them.

@Rhyys: Welcome to the thread! I like Zane’s reasonings for keeping an outdated (yet continuously modified) weapon instead of getting a brand new, sleeker model.

Yes, I had lots of fun writing Tanno's part in that Mallay/Aric piece and glad you remembered the costume from the Lauren girls' story thread.

@Diviciacus: Don’t worry about posting multiple stories in a week….or a day even. I used to be a lot more active in the thread and once put out several stories in a week. If the muse is giving you stuff to share, share it I say!

I really enjoyed the inner reflections of Syn and Master Satele’s guidance in the 2nd part. Satele comes across as cold/indifferent often in the game (at least to me) and it was nice seeing some warmth to her. Made me like her a little more.

The third part was nicely done as well and I liked the conversation with Masters Bastilla and Nomi. It made them feel more real somehow. Nice job with their history as well…..I love those sorts of details from the past and how they apply to the present. Also, yay for including the older version of the Jedi Code…..I always love seeing that and still get annoyed at how it was changed.

Glad you enjoyed Mallay's naughty little message and Vik definitely suspected it was something along those lines. It was no problem refiling the story at all, just a simple cut and paste, then repeated in my backup file and done. Funny thing about my avatar, I didn't know who it was when I first subbed to the game a few months before its release.....I just really liked the face expression and the hair! I later found out it was Hylo Visz when I was doing research on Gault for one of BH Katrynka's stories.

@Feldrath: A warden’s Duties-Ooooo, a mystery…..I love mysteries!! I felt bad for Cierra having to investigate something so sad and gruesome……not to mention the crime was a first for Tython. She’s got her hands full. Oh and I loved the part at the end…..Tharan would be the chatty type when drunk and I definitely agree with you about Holiday being more than just a program.

RE: Trandoshan Diplomacy-that’s a very interesting and creative way to handle the aftermath of that particular Imp Belsavis mission. Qyzen would be ideal for it and I like the look you give into his character. Things that I’ve never even thought of like his dislike of having a comlink on him…..too noisy although I’m sure there’s some way to put it on silent mode.

Alaurin: As always great characterisations with the Trooper crew and poor Jorgan getting that in the middle of work, and in front of his squadmates. I vaguely remember a dress in one of your stories, but I thought it was a long white ball-gown, not lingerie (unless I’ve really misinterpreted that scene). Quick question: was Jorgan fast enough to wipe it off his datapad before Vik copies the vid as blackmail material?

@Mirdthesrill: Hehe, I started typing clevermird…..had to correct it. Oh I love Mallena and Jessasi together. I can almost picture her face and feel the jaw clenching when they set off after her to make sure the job gets done right.

LOL, glad you enjoyed the guys' bit and I can assure you the movie is a lot funnier......I really didn't do it justice, but it got stirred in my mind one day while Kitar and I were talking on vent while leveling Jax and Ka'van together and she talked me into writing it. I'll go back and take a look, but I'm pretty sure I mentioned Torian by name. As for Mallay/Aric, glad you liked it......I love writing warm fuzzies for them. Yay, someone else remembers the outfit!

@Bultitudes_Loke: Oh wow, that was a fantastic beginning and I liked seeing how the brothers grew into teenagers…..and sadly in different ways. I feel for Arkurul having such a difficult time with his sibling and what is sure to come for both of them. Looking forward to the next part.

Inside the darkened quarters, a figure shifted in his bunk, the only one awake. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the snores of his subordinates as he desperately wished for sleep to claim him. Felix knew tomorrow would be another long day and a tired soldier was a sloppy one. His squad had gone to bed early, all of them exhausted both mentally and physically after what had happened earlier. He couldn’t blame them, Hoth wasn’t an easy place to be stationed and they’d been here too long already. However Kree’s attempt to mutiny had just added to the strain and had thrown Felix off more than he’d expected. He’d been worried about possible dissention in the ranks after constantly fighting an enemy that couldn’t be defeated these past few weeks, but to actually witness one of his men turning a weapon on him was more than Felix could take and something inside him had snapped for a few tense minutes. He still felt both anger and guilt keenly, anger at the green private for the stunt he’d pulled and guilt that the Master Lauren had to witness the aftermath.

The Jedi. It was thoughts of the Jedi keeping him awake, not what happened with Kree earlier. When he first learned that the Barsen’thor of the Jedi Order, Master Allissya Lauren, was coming to Hoth to assist the Coalition forces, Felix expected someone much older. He certainly wasn’t expecting the vision that showed up. Iresso had been briefing his men when the petite Jedi enter the room with her mercenary companion, and was shocked speechless for a moment when she lowered her hood to reveal a heart shaped face, full lips with a natural pout, golden tanned skin, silver eyes, and white blonde hair that must be incredibly long judging from the thick plait that ran down her back to hover just above her tiny waist. Anyone in their right mind would be immediately attracted to the strikingly beautiful young woman and he was no exception.

Luckily years of training and discipline kicked in before he got caught staring, but Felix didn’t miss the hint of red that kissed the Jedi’s cheeks when her Twi’lek companion stooped down to mutter something in her ear. He couldn’t hear what he said or her response, but her companion seemed amused by it for a brief second. He was even more curious when he saw that blush deepen and that tempting mouth curved upwards for a second before she bowed her head towards him as that soft voice asked for him by name. He confirmed that she was in the right place and could’ve swore he saw a flicker of awareness in those silver eyes when he finally introduced himself and his squad to her. She bowed to each of them in return, a show of respect from a member of her Order.

After the introductions, Felix got to business and briefed Master Lauren and Zenith on their current situation with the White Maw. Both listened intently, the Twi’lek’s face thoughtful as Felix admitted that one of the pirate captains was giving them trouble. Zenith admitted that the resistance on Balmorra would come across a particularly tough Imperial officer every once in a while during their occupation, but often it was a different set of eyes that could spot the weakness and make the difference. At that point, Felix knew he needed to just come clean, no matter how unbelievable the truth sounded.

“Normally I’d feel the same, but there’s something else about this guy,” he sighed, bracing himself for their reaction, “The thing about Captain Valon is that……well he….”

“What the LT is trying to say is that Captain Valon can’t be killed,” Private Kree finally blurted out, then his gaze narrowed condescendingly at the young woman who’d been sent to help, “Jedi or no, he’ll tear you apart and you’ll end up dead just like Dask and Antilles.”

“I have seen many miraculous things over the years studying with the Jedi, but one thing I know for certain is that everyone becomes one with the Force eventually,” Master Lauren countered softly, and Felix saw no anger in her expression, only a trace of pity reflected in those silvery eyes as she met Kree’s stare head on.

“It’s true Jedi,” Private Tsalesh insisted, “We’ve tried everything!”

“Maybe it’s like Zenith said, you simply need a fresh set of eyes on him,” she suggested, “I have a Trandoshan on my crew that is the most skilled hunter I’ve ever known and I have the Force with me, this Captain Valon surely won’t be prepared for that. I promise you all we won’t fail in this……we’ll catch him and he’ll answer for his crimes.”

“It’s not that we haven’t caught Valon,” Felix corrected her, “We have and already killed him…..more than once, but somehow he always comes back.”

“Impossible,” she scoffed, disbelief evident in her quiet voice, “No one is immortal.”

“This guy is,” Private Falch defended his CO, “We once collapsed an ice tunnel on Captain Valon and before you say it, there was no way he could’ve gotten out before the blast. He was crushed and buried, yet a few days later, he’s leading a group of White Maw in another attack!”

The Jedi’s disbelief was understandable, but Private Kree’s reaction was explosive. He began going off about being done with this planet, pirates that wouldn’t die, and know it all Jedi. Felix was torn, Kree was out of line, but even he had bristled at her comments and he’d noticed Falch and Tsalesh tense as well. Felix had been there and he knew his men……they all saw what they saw. Captain Valon truly seemed to be unkillable. However before the situation exploded out of control, a gentle glow surrounded the Jedi and a sense of calm filled him. He looked around to see that Kree had quieted and the others relaxed a little.

Not wanting things to escalate, Felix dismissed his men then apologized to the Jedi before briefing her and her companion on the latest situation with the White Maw. Captain Valon had gotten his hands on a thermal bore device during his last raid and used in the right place, it could crack the ice shelf and wipe out the entire base. Master Lauren correctly guessed that’s where the men’s injuries had come from and offered to go after it for them. Since most of his men were still recovering from that last attack and mourning their two fallen comrades, Felix took her up on the offer and gave her the coordinates.

An hour later, Master Lauren left Aurek base with her men, one of which Felix was relieved to see was a medic. He felt a little guilty for not going with them, but he knew he’d only slow them down in his current state. He entered the med bay, thinking of the lovely young Jedi and hoping the four of them returned safely. Private Tsalesh had already been taken care of and the Selkath was floating in a kolto tank where he’d spend the night. The medic was just finishing up with Private Falch when he sat on the cot next to him and began removing his plating, wincing as the movement pulled at a gash on his side. A few minutes later, Felix was stripped bare from the waist up and the medic was stitching up the wound he’d sustained when a pirate’s vibrosword had found a weak spot in his plating.

It was evening by the time the medic had finished up with Felix and the rest of his men were either sleeping in the barracks or being monitored in the med bay. He didn’t want to seek out his quarters until he knew the Jedi and her team were safe and a short time later, he got his wish. The group looked half frozen, but so did most soldiers that returned at the end of the day. Master Lauren immediately directed her medic to return to the ship with the large Trandoshan who Felix saw was clutching a bloody side as he slowly followed the blond Human towards the shuttle. Then those silver eyes turned to him and a smile curved that lush mouth as she strode confidently towards him.

“The threat has been neutralized Lieutenant.”

“Glad to hear it, master Jedi,” Felix bowed, then accepted the device Zenith handed him.

“Damaged in the fight, but looks fixable,” Zenith explained when he saw the lieutenant studying it, “Thought you might have use for it.”

“Definitely,” Felix grinned, “Glad you were able to bring it back, even more so since I assume Captain Valon isn’t around anymore.”

“We had no choice,” the Jedi sighed as she bowed her head and Felix could easily hear the sadness in her soft voice. Like most of her Order, Master Lauren obviously didn’t like ending another’s life.

“If it’s any consolation, Captain Valon is responsible for a lot of recent deaths on Hoth,” Felix told her, feeling absolutely no remorse that the man had been killed. The Holocommunicator went off before she could respond and those sad silver eyes widened with shock when the caller’s image appeared.

He knew exactly how that felt, having seen the White Maw captain die several times only to reappear again. But the first time, he was sure his face wore the same expression as hers did when Captain Valon greeted them. Unfortunately the bad news didn’t end with the captain’s miraculous survival. Valon had found the Republic’s main heat exchange and intended to attack it at first light. Felix felt dread settle cold in his gut with the captain’s threat, knowing that spelled disaster for Aurek base. He bowed his head when the call was ended, straining to keep himself from losing it when all he wanted to do was punch the wall in his frustration. He felt that soothing presence once again trying to calm him, but it wasn’t enough this time. She didn’t realize just how bad the situation was. Hoth hadn’t been the easiest assignment for any of them, the frigid weather alone beat at you daily, but Captain Valon had shattered their morale these past few weeks and he was certain his men were on the verge of mutiny. This could very well be the last straw and if that wasn’t bad enough, Valon had just made the worst possible threat. There was no way to stop him this time. No one could survive outside after the sun went down so there would be no way to get to that facility in time. Even if there was, he didn’t have the man power to stop him……not that it mattered, the bastard couldn’t be killed.

The Jedi, however, was determined to try despite the odds stacked against her. He felt a brief flicker of anger and was shocked to see the cold expression on that usually calm and serene face when he turned to look at the source. She asked him to send her the coordinates and any information he had on the heat exchange bunker, promising to set out before dawn. Master Lauren didn’t even flinch when Zenith promised the captain would die for real this time, she just simply nodded, bowed at Felix as she bade him goodnight, then left with her companion on the last shuttle off planet a few minutes later.

True to her word, Master Lauren and her crew arrived on the first shuttle from the orbital station an hour before dawn. Felix had to bite back a smile when he saw the Jedi step off the shuttle. That tiny frame was packed in the thickest fur lined coat she could find and it went down past her knees. Gone was the robe, her legs clad in thick pants and boots that disappeared under the coat. The only reason he knew it was her was that she was the shortest by far and he could see those luminous eyes shining behind the goggles she wore over the heavy face mask. Then he remembered the slender beauty that lie beneath that heavy coat and he was once again thinking things he shouldn’t.

They left half an hour later and Felix once again found himself praying they’d make it back safely. After checking on Tsalesh and Falch in the medbay, then checking in on a still brooding Kree, Felix spent the rest of the morning alone pacing in his quarters. Stress was making him restless, and he felt guilty about not accompanying the Jedi this morning, but the medic urged him to take it easy since his wound wouldn’t be fully healed for at least another day. Plus Felix had a bad feeling Kree was on the verge of a meltdown and he needed to be there in case the hotheaded private did anything stupid…..which he unfortunately did that afternoon.

As soon as the medic released Tsalesh and Falch, Felix decided to lead his squad out on a simple scouting mission to build their morale. They’d search for and take out any of Valon’s scouting parties they found…….a task they’d easily be able to handle with the man himself busy dealing with Master Lauren at the heat exchange and the more of his men they could eliminate, the better. He sent Master Lauren a message with the coordinates to Outpost Senth where they’d be working from and asked her to meet him there when she finished.

Everything had gone well and they’d managed to take out a few of Valon’s people before reaching the outpost later that afternoon. It was when they entered the small bunker just outside the outpost that things went south and they were ambushed. Greatly outnumbered, they found cover and fired with everything they had while Felix called for backup. Lucky for them, Master Lauren arrived a few minutes later to even the odds, but the damage had been done.

“They tracked us back here LT,” Kree accused and Felix heard a soft gasp and the distinct hum of a blaster charging as he stood from inspecting the nearest corpse, “This was way more than a scouting party……this was a coordinated attack. You lied to us! Captain Valon’s still alive, isn’t he?!” Then the angry soldier turned towards Lissa, still keeping his blaster trained on Felix, “Were you in on this too, Jedi?”

Zenith brought up his sniper rifle and Qyzen hissed angrly, but Master Lauren shook her head at them as she took a step towards Private Kree. She held her arms away from her body a submissive gesture since her lightsaber still hooked to her belt and when she spoke, her voice was soft and even, “I knew, but we’ve discovered how Captain Valon keeps coming back from the dead.”

“It’s too late for that,” Kree shouted desperately as he turned back to his CO, “We always wondered how you escaped the Imps LT. Now this?” The shaken soldier looked around at his fellows before settling his gaze back on the Jedi, “We…….we’re not going to stay here and die!”

Felix made his move, quickly disarming the private while his attention was on the Master Lauren. Ignoring the pain in his side, he punched Kree before he could react and the stunned young man dropped to the ground. Zenith and Qyzen immediately brought their weapons back up, each covering the remainder of his squad, but it was unnecessary……the crisis had been averted for the time being.

Even being Force blind, Felix could tell Master Lauren didn’t approve of the way he’d handled Kree, which is why he gave her an opportunity to voice in on his punishment. He wasn’t surprised that she sympathized with the private and asked that he be let off with a warning, simply stating that he’d been through enough. Despite his better judgement, Felix honored her request but made sure Kree knew that there would be no third chance.

Some good had come out of the day though, Master Lauren had indeed unraveled the mystery behind Captain Valon’s supposed immortality. Apparently the pirate had raided an Imperial lab where they were keeping some experimental armor they’d found amongst the many wrecked ships on Hoth’s surface. Thanks to a survivor from the Imperial squad that attacked the bunker instead of Valon, they not only knew the secret behind the pirate’s sudden string of success, but they also had a promising lead on how to get more information that could help them end Valon’s threat for good. Felix decided to return to Aurek with his squad in order to research and prepare for the assault on the Imperial lab where the research data could be found. They followed Master Lauren’s people and arrived at the base just as the sun was setting. His men headed for their barriks, but he followed the Jedi towards the shuttles.

“Thank you Master Jedi,” Felix bowed as her crew boarded the shuttle, “It’s only been a couple of days and you’ve done so much already. I’m just sorry you had to witness the men the way they were earlier……they’re all good guys really, even Kree.”

“Please, call me Lissa,” she insisted, smiling shyly at him before bowing in return, “You and your men have done a lot despite the odds against you Lieutenant Iresso, and I’m more than happy to do what I can to assist.”

“We appreciate it since there’s now an end in sight to our assignment on Hoth,” Felix told her, unable to take his eyes off that tempting mouth that was still smiling at him, “and you can call me Felix.”

“While I’ll admit some of the scenery is breathtaking, the cold is even more so and I can certainly understand why you’d be eager to be stationed somewhere else,” she replied, a twinkle appearing in her eyes as that smile broadened. Then she heard the last boarding call for the shuttle and bowed to him again, “Goodnight…….Felix.”

“Goodnight Lissa,” he called back as she boarded the shuttle.

He didn’t know which was worse, being kept awake by stress of a possibly mutiny among his men and the danger to Aurek base as he was last night, or thoughts he had no business having about Master Lauren…….Lissa. He liked the way it sounded, but not nearly as much as he liked hearing that soft voice say his name and suddenly some very inappropriate feelings surfaced when he thought of other ways he’d like for her to use his name.

It was going to be a long night.

A heavy sigh escaped the petite figure that so far had been spending the sleep cycle tossing and turning again. Last night it had been the mystery of a White Maw leader who seemed to be immortal keeping her awake. Logically she’d known immortality to be impossible……all living things become one with the Force eventually. Her crew had shared her skepticism, especially after the confrontation with that White Maw leader that went surprisingly easy considering Lieutenant Iresso and his men had sworn the pirate captain couldn’t die. However she’d was hit with the biggest shock of her young life when the very same man she and her crew killed had somehow managed to contact them at the base a mere hour later.

“We defeated you,” she frowned, exchanging a confused look with her companion, “I saw your corpse…..there were no life signs at all.”

“Suspicious,” Zenith crossed his arms as his eyes narrowed at the holo image of the pirate he’d gotten the kill shot on only an hour ago.

For once Lissa had to agree with her cynical crew member, but she couldn’t sense any trickery despite her instincts screaming at her that it was impossible for it to be the same man. It was a mystery, but Lissa loved solving puzzles of all sorts and this one in particular she was determined to get to the bottom of since it was vital to her mission on the frozen planet. She felt a surge of guilt for her earlier reactions when Lieutenant Iresso and his men had told her they’d witnessed Valon coming back to life and was about to apologize to the frustrated officer when Captain Valon dropped another bombshell on her.

“Hope you enjoy being warm tonight,” the broad man chuckled coldly, “Because it’ll be your last. You see, I came across some interesting intel when I raided that bunker and I now have the coordinates to the Republic’s main heat exchange. My men and I plan to hit that facility at first light…….I might’ve ransomed it back to you, but after you sent that annoying Jedi after me I think I’ll just blow it up instead. Have a good night.”

Felix swallowed hard when Valon cut off the call and Lissa could feel the anger, fear, and helplessness rolling off the tall soldier in waves as he bowed his head. She reached out to try and calm him as she had earlier with his crew, but he simply shook his head, “You don’t understand Master Jedi. If that heat exchange is taken out, we’ll all freeze here. We could start evacuating, but with only two regular shuttles……..”

“I swear I won’t let Valon take that bunker,” Lissa vowed.

“How?” Felix shot back as he ran his hands over his head in frustration, “There’s no way to get there in time…….going outside when the sun’s down is suicide. A person would freeze to death within half an hour. Even if we could get there in time, I don’t have enough able bodied men right now. Not to mention that my guys will probably mutiny after finding out Valon’s still walking around after going toe to toe with a Jedi.”

“That won’t happen the next time we meet,” Lissa muttered darkly, a rare display of temper from her. “Send me the coordinates of that facility and any information you have on it. My people and I will leave before dawn.”

“Qyzen and I will see to it he doesn’t get back up again this time,” Zenith added, and for once Lissa didn’t chastise him. Instead she nodded her agreement, then bowed at the lieutenant before leaving.

Lissa had tossed and turned that night in bed as her brain tried to make sense of it all. She was certain it was the same man she and her crew had met and dealt with that afternoon, but he was just a regular Human being, as mortal as any sentient species, a Force blind with nothing unusual about him. The next time would be different, but despite Zenith’s words to the contrary, Lissa had no intention of killing the White Maw Captain. She wanted answers and fully intended to get them…..even if it meant dragging the unconscious man’s body back to base and locking him up. She had her methods of getting information and if they could contain the captain in a cell, she’d have plenty of time to meditate and gather her strength before using the Force to interrogate the man.

Lissa, Qyzen, Tharan, and Zenith set out roughly half an hour before dawn in the heaviest fur lined gear they could get their hands on. She’d been so padded, she could barely move properly and wasn’t all that sure she’d be able to get up if she fell, but at least she was warm. The lieutenant hadn’t been lying about the cold though and despite the extra lining in her outerwear, Lissa’s fingers were tingling painfully by the time they reached the heat exchange. They were rewarded for their efforts however, and managed to arrive before the Valon’s full force did. They fought their way inside, taking out the White Maw that had come ahead and decided to lie in wait for the pirate captain.

Unfortunately it was the Empire that showed up to ambush Lissa instead of the White Maw. Luckily she and her crew had been prepared for a fight and it didn’t matter if it was Imperial commandos instead of pirates, they were still the enemy and in the end were defeated. It had rattled them a little and the unexpected appearance of Imperials was yet another mystery for her to solve, but thanks to the sole surviving and very obliging engineer who’d pleaded for mercy, Lissa got all her answers.

“I won’t hurt you,” Lissa promised, “But I want some answers. For starters, why are you here?”

“An anonymous tip came into Dorne base late last night,” the engineer explained, shaking a little as Qyzen moved to stand behind him, “Said some Jedi that pissed off Captain Valon would be at this heat exchange to secure it.”

“Why would that interest you?” Lissa asked, having a good feeling who the informant was but confused as to why.

“We hoped to capture you,” the engineer answered, “Use you as bait for Valon.”

“Why are you after him?”

“He stole some armor from one of our labs and it was vital we get it back since we never found any schematics for it. It was a prototype and the only of it’s kind that anyone knew of.”

“What’s so special about this armor?”

“Hoth’s littered with starship wreckage and a few weeks ago we uncovered some experimental tech amidst an old battleship. There were weapons, armor, and even some medical equipment. We took it all back to the lab to study it. That armor had built in healing mechanisms that can heal any wound as it happens. We’d just got it working when Valon’s men attacked and he took it.”

The big mystery had been solved. Captain Valon wasn’t immortal, he simply stole a set of prototype healing armor that had been lost before its existence was even known. With that question answered, Lissa figured she’d be able to sleep well tonight despite the impending raid on an Imperial lab that was in store for her crew and Lieutenant Iresso’s squad in the morning. But sleep still eluded her and this time she couldn’t blame it on a mystery since she knew full well what it was.

The lieutenant. That’s what was keeping Lissa from the much needed rest her body and mind required. Or rather thoughts of him that had nothing to do with the mission and everything to do with warm brown eyes, a smooth voice, and a lightly freckled face that she found very appealing. She’d opted to take Zenith planet side with her to meet the Coalition forces on Hoth since he at least represented the Rift Alliance to a degree. With an older sister as the CO of Havoc Squad, Lissa was certainly no stranger to soldiers and how strong their emotions could be during wartime. Being acutely sensitive to emotions, the empath had already begun to shield herself when the shuttle touched down on the frozen ground, knowing full well the squad she was going to assist was having trouble with a local pirate gang.

She wasn’t prepared for what she’d felt after lowering her hood and looked up at the commanding officer. Lieutenant Felix Iresso’s thoughts had nothing to do with combat or pirates and everything to do with her. Unused to getting that reaction in her plain Jedi robes, her shield wavered and she was hit full blast with his thoughts and emotions. What was even more shocking was that Lissa found herself feeling the same for the good looking Lieutenant and for the first time in years, she forgot to reign in her own thoughts and emotions, even allowing the latter to project for a brief moment before she realized it. Unfortunately that momentary lapse in her focus was enough for her all too observant companion and he wasn’t shy about making that known.

“I recall you telling me and Alauni to get a room not that long ago, Master Jedi,” Zenith murmured wryly, the Twi’lek’s mouth twitching in a rare smirk, “Maybe heed your own advice?”

“Not funny,” a blushing Lissa hissed, “No one likes a smarta** you know……and I’d hate to see you suddenly doing an impression of an Endorian chicken the next time you’re in a crowded room.”

“Ouch, swearing now……should be interesting,” Zenith chuckled, the Balmorran utterly unfazed by the threat he knew she’d never follow through on.

Zenith wasn’t wrong……the past couple of days proved to be interesting and not in a good way. The worst had come when they’d met up with Lieutenant Iresso’s men at Senth outpost after securing the heat exchange. They came upon the bunker to find it under attack by the White Maw. The size of the ambush was enough for the lieutenant’s men to figure out about Captain Valon’s survival and emotions were running very high when Private Kree pulled a weapon on his CO. The force of all those emotions almost overwhelmed Lissa, but despite having worn herself out fighting the Imperials and healing the survivor enough to make it back to his base, she managed to throw up a weak shield in her mind to absorb the brunt of it.

Lissa frowned when she recalled Lieutenant Iresso striking Private Kree earlier, never caring for violence despite the soldier’s veiled insults towards her. However the lieutenant hadn’t hurt his subordinate too badly and it was only when Kree pulled a weapon on his CO that the tense situation exploded and became physical. Thanks to an older sister in Republic Spec Forces, Lissa was aware that the disrespect alone was a gross offence. Then she thought about how Mallay and Aric would’ve reacted in Lieutenant Iresso’s place and realized the officer hadn’t done any worse. Mallay would likely have cuffed the private and he’d probably be scrubbing toilets with a toothbrush for a week for the disrespect alone. Aric would probably have given him a dressing down he’d never forget then made him do pushups until he couldn’t feel his arms anymore……a punishment he apparently used with Tanno Vik on more than one occasion. Both her sister and her husband were keen on showing respect, even if they didn’t agree with the point of view, and neither would’ve tolerated the soldier’s show of weakness. The mutiny was another matter……and something neither Mallay nor Aric would’ve reacted well to at all.

The insult didn’t bother Lissa too much, many people had strong opinions about her Order and it wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to listen to one. It was basic fear driving the young soldier, an emotion that had been assaulting her from all of the soldiers and she understood why. Hoth wasn’t an easy planet to be stationed on……the frigid weather alone was daunting, but having to deal with an “unkillable” enemy was enough to make anyone afraid. The only difference between Kree and the rest of his fellow soldiers in the Coalition army was that privates Tsalesh and Falch had enough sense of honor to stick with their commander and the mission whereas Private Kree was letting his fears override his training. That could prove to be dangerous for all of them. Perhaps when this assignment was all over with, she’d have a talk with the lieutenant in private.

A smile curved her lips when she thought of being alone with Lieutenant Iresso…..with Felix…..even if it was just for a few minutes. No smart remarks from Zenith about her blushing or getting caught staring a little. Part of her envied her outgoing twin, who would’ve definitely flirted with the handsome officer by now. Alas, Lissa didn’t have Ros’s charismatic nature and wasn’t all that comfortable talking with new people, let alone try to flirt. Perhaps she should talk to Ros…..or even their oldest sister Bella, who could likely charm even the staunchest Jedi out of his robes. Not that she wanted to see the lieutenant naked, but she wouldn’t mind seeing what he looked like in normal clothing……maybe see what his body really looked like in a pair of leatheris pants……the kind that hugged his backside well enough for her to……stop it right there Lissa! But her mental chiding was too late, and now she found herself wondering what Felix Iresso looked like out of his armor……and everything else.

It was going to be a long night.

I truly hope the alternative perspectives wasn’t too repetitive. Many thanks to Kitar for looking the story over for me……after staring at it for 2 days, I needed a fresh set of eyes before doing a final edit/polish.

Some of the conversations are taken verbatim from the cutscenes, others I fudged with a bit to make them feel more real for Lissa.

@Feldraeth- First off, I salute you for attempting Qyzen Fess's perspective. The lizard is not easy to write for. I like how you incorporated Trandoshan culture into the story. The different ways of doing things, values, cultural blind spots, and everything else make it difficult enough to negotiate with other groups of humans, nevermind other species. Probably good another Trandoshan is dealing with it. Also nice incorporation of taste.

@Toa- I can definitely see Blayk's voice emerging. I like the idea of a outwardly cheery but inwardly unhappy agent. The reverse is definitely more common. Interested to see where his dislike of the empire will take him. Since you seem to be wanting advice, try to summarize a little less. It's an old adage, but 'show, don't tell' is a good place to start. What did it feel like floating in space? What does the engine room look like? You've got the interior of Blayk down, how about the exterior? If it helps, most people have trouble with the interior more, so you've got the really hard part.

@Bultitudes- Oh, I really like this piece. You perfectly balenced over time the feeling of the JK becoming stronger and wiser while the (future) SW grows angrier and more unbalanced. It's the sort of thing where from an outside observer, I can totally see what's coming, but someone on the inside may not.

@Divi- I don't know much about Nomi Sunrider, never having gotten my hands on the material in which she features, but I like the way you write her! I'm continuing to enjoy this series.

@Alaurin- Hey, I always have to stop myself from putting 101 after your name I love the warm fuzzies as always, especially for this pairing. F!ConsularXIresso is a rather underrated couple IMO.

Mallena leaned against the side of the alleyway, blaster rifle ready. They had managed to neutralize the canisters of Trivoris gas they had been looking for, but still no luck finding a passkey for the illegal surgery workshop. And all their investigations had only lead to them getting trapped in a firefight with clinic security.

Dropping the rifle on the ground, she pulled out her pistol. She risked a quick glance around the corner and fired two shots at the trio of guards that had spotted them. Someone shouted in pain, but she couldn’t tell if she had neutralized anyone. There was definitely at least one person still out there, though. She risked another look and shot.

Blaster shots whizzed past her head, close enough that she felt the heat on her ear. “This isn’t working,” she muttered.

“If we could get above them…” suggested Jorgan.

Mallena looked up. The walls of the alley were smooth permacrete, with no fire escapes or other obvious ways up to the roof. “You can try. I’ll hold things down over here.” They had to figure this out quickly, whatever they did. The security guards had almost certainly called for reinforcements, and it was only a matter of time before someone tried to rush them from the other direction or simply chucked a grenade down the alley.

A crash from further down. Jorgan appeared to have fallen through the lid of a trash bin. Cursing, he pulled himself back up on top and resumed his search for handholds.

Outside, a pair of blaster shots sounded, followed by a loud whoop. “You can come out now!” called Captain Silver’s voice. “Corso ‘n I killed the bad guys.”

Mallena sighed and holstered her pistol. Picking up her rifle and holding it ready, she stepped. The twi’lek stood in the center of a trio of corpses, her companion beside her, who she supposed must be Corso. They looked a little more roughed up than when she had last seen them, but not majorly injured. “What are you two doing here?”

“Investigating the clinic, of course. We tried to get in the normal way, but they didn’t believe us and started shooting. Got away from them and ran into you guys. Of course, we didn’t know it was you we were saving at the time.”

“Well, thanks anyway. I’ll buy you a drink sometime.” Mallena figured she owed her that at least. They probably could have gotten out of it on their own, but who knew? “Jorgan, we’ve got it taken care of.”

Another crash as a grown Cathar wearing full armor jumped to the ground. “Riggs, Silver,” he said, nodding as he came out. Corso and the captain nodded back. “So.”

“Ready to move out?” said Mallena.

“Wanna team up?” asked Captain Silver out of the blue.

“What?”

“Do you want to work together to destroy the clinic? I don’t think we can get back in there by ourselves, and it doesn’t look like the two of you are doing too hot either. I bet with four of us, we’d be able to destroy the place.”

Mallena looked at Jorgan. He gave a minute shrug, as if to say ‘you’re in charge here’. “We’ll do it, Captain.”

“Cool!” The Captain pointed at a different alley, a little ways beyond and across the street from the one they had hidden in earlier. “I think there’s a back door through there. And you can call me Jess.”

“We’ll still need a passkey, though,” Jorgan reminded her.

Corso bent down and started rifling through the guards’ pockets. A moment later, he stood up, holding a plasteel rectangle. “Bet this is it.”

“Corso, you’re a genius,” said the captain.

“Well, they were guards from the clinic. Figures they’d have a way to get inside.”

“Good enough for me, let’s go,” said Mallena. The longer they spent standing in the street, the more time the people inside the clinic had to figure out what they were planning and start prepping.

The alley itself was only wide enough for two of them at a time, so she and Jorgan stepped in first. Only one door looked like it had remotely the amount of security the clinic would need, so she tried the passkey on it. A pause, then it slid open with a beep.

Immediately, the captain and Corso pushed past her and ran into the hallway, firing into side rooms. Return fire soon followed. Mallena tried very hard to keep from facepalming and ran after them, picking off anyone they missed.

“They’re going to get themselves killed,” grumbled Jorgan. Mallena had to agree. This wasn’t a game. People got killed busting underground operations all the time, you couldn’t treat them like a kriffing hologame!

The human and twi’lek figures ahead stopped and the captain ducked behind a box. Catching up to them, Mallena took quick stock of the situation. In front of them was a fairly large room, roughly square, with at least one doorway on each side and a staircase on the far wall leading up to a balcony. A pair of corpses lay on the floor and at least three more thugs in bright yellow jumpsuits were dug in upstairs.

“How’s your grenade arm?” said the captain.

“We can’t use explosives here,” Mallena countered. “Do you see the shape this building is in?” She gestured at the cracked walls and slightly off-kilter support posts as Corso and Jorgan did their best to occupy the guards. “Too much concussion could bring it down on top of us.”

“Use a flash-bang!”

“I don’t have any!” She only carried a few on any given occasion and had used the last of them getting to the last Trivoris canister.

Captain Silver made a noise that sounded like a growl in her throat. “What about sonic?”

“Probably won’t do too much damage to the structure but still has a chance of- hey!” The captain pulled a small metallic sphere and swung back to throw it. As Mallena reached out to intercept her, she felt something impact her shin and stumbled into the smuggler’s crate. A second later, an ear-splitting burst of sound echoed through the room in front of them.

Rubbing her ears, Mallena rounded on the captain. “What the hell did you do?!”

The pounding on the door reverberated in Thorns’ head. There wasn’t enough room for the noise. His brain was too big without the added content. Squinching his eyes didn’t help to keep the sound out. He rolled onto his back and pulled the pillow over his head. Better. His teeth had grown a pelt. He probed them with his tongue and regretted it instantly. The taste in his mouth was awful. Had to be the aftermath of stew and booze. He dimly wondered where the pillow had come from. Last he remembered he didn’t own one. It didn’t smell of him. Iz smelled different, too. So not Iz’ either. It didn’t smell like home at all. Whoever was knocking at the door was karking persistent. Thorns groaned. Why wouldn’t they leave him alone. “Go away!” he called in defiance of his head’s protests.

“Liv? Open up! I know you’re in there!” an unfamiliar, decidedly male voice called. Who was Liv? “Kriffin’ open the kriffin’ door. Don’t make me waste one of my grenades.” Where were his blasters? Thorns felt the bed around him. They were not there. He wasn’t home, he was on Tatooine. He jumped out of the bed and had to grasp the next door frame to keep from toppling over. Tatooine had to have doubled its speed of rotation over night, or maybe tripled. He heard the entrance door tremble beneath a thwack. The glaring light falling through the single small window illuminated a small room and brought recognition at last. His clothes, apart from the shorts he was wearing, lay in a heap on the floor, the belt with his blasters hung on the backrest of one of the chairs standing at the table. The smell of last night’s stew still lingered in the air. This was Liv’s hut.

“Relax!” A blue shadow appeared from behind him. With a push against his chest Liv toppled him back onto the bed. “And stay out of the way!” Despite her voice sounding calm she carried a blaster in one hand. Besides that she was wearing nothing but her underwear. She had to be returning from the refresher. He remembered the sound from before the pounding. Sonic shower. That was the reason she had missed the noise at first. Thorns grabbed the pile of clothes and, fumbling with his pants, started to dress. “Coming!” Standing beside the door Liv hit the button to open it. Sand crunched in the guidance as the door slid open. Tatooine’s glare entered unhindered. Whoever had made the ruckus had stepped to the side of the door, too.

“Safe to come in?” the voice inquired.

“As safe as it’s going to get,” Liv answered. The silhouette of a man darkened the door frame. His helmet nearly brushed the lintel as he entered. Liv closed the door and let the blaster sink. “Found her?”

“She’s in Anchorhead.”

“Damned!” Liv gave Thorns a look he couldn’t pin down.

The man had noticed. “You could at least have the decency to hide your toys,” he told Liv.

“You spying for my husband now, Zosh?”

“You are married?” Thorns was sure she hadn’t told him.

“He’s still my friend, Liv. Why do you need to make this complicated?”

She glared at both of them. “It’s none of your business. Very simple, nothing complicated. Besides, nothing happened. We got drunk together. That’s it.” She sighed. “Somebody make some caf. I am going to get dressed.”

Thorns searched for his boots, trying to ignore the waves of hostility Zosh was emanating. “I’ll set out. Wouldn’t want to disturb your reunion.” He concentrated to fight the nausea.

Liv had other plans. “I don’t think so!” She turned to her partner. “Make sure he stays. He owes me some money.”

The visor of Zosh’s helmet swiveled towards Thorns, his hand came to rest on the butt of his blaster.

“What money?” Thorns spluttered.

“Sweetie, your last whiskey must have been spoiled. You lost our bet.”

Thorns remembered. “You cheated!” he blurted. The business end of Liv’s blaster told him she felt slightly insulted. Insulting her was a bad idea. Even more so since she was standing between him and his own blasters. “Just a misunderstanding — on my part, no doubt.”

Zosh’s chuckle rumbled in his chest. “No doubt!”

Liv lowered her blaster. “Never. Ever. Accuse me of cheating! There was no rule said I wasn’t allowed to use my flamethrower.”

“There wasn’t!” Thorns agreed. Neither had there been one about grenades. The woman had had more impact than a small meteorite shower.

Liv nodded and vanished in the refresher, leaving them alone with an awkward silence. Zosh leaned against the wall beside the entrance. With his armor he had to be taller than two meters. Like Liv’s armor his was dented and scratched, but well cared for. A cursory glance revealed a small arsenal; blaster, knives, grenades. There were probably other weapons hidden and integrated in the armor.

Thorns found his boots under the bed and pulled them on. He gave the chair with his blasters as wide a berth as possible and walked over to the kitchenette. Being in trouble was no reason to not start the day with a decent cup of caf. He performed the routine in silence. When he was done he filled two cups. “Black?” Zosh nodded and Thorns placed one of the cups on the table. The other man gave no sign he was going to leave his watch to drink his caf. Thorns shrugged. He leaned against the countertop and drank his own.

Liv returned and headed straight for the cafpot. Thorns watched her as she poured herself a cup. “You’ll get the money. I pay my debts.”

“Forget about those few credits. You’re still here because I want to hire you.”

Thorns raised an eyebrow. “Could’ve told me earlier.”

She grinned. “Hiring interviews only fully dressed.”

“You can’t keep him just because he followed you home, took the offered food, and stayed overnight.” Zosh’s voice was only a deep growl.

“I brought the food!” Thorns murmured into his cup.

Liv gave Zosh a mocking smile. “Why did you come back, when you’re volunteering to get her out of Anchorhead yourself?”

“Kark! You know they doubled the sentries since my last visit.” Zosh doffed his helmet and the head of a Zabrak emerged, horns and all. Red skin, black patterned by tattoos, black hair. Eyes like emeralds dropped in a splotch of blood. Eye-catching, hard to forget.

“Heard your picture lovelifies every Republic guardhouse on the planet. That’s why we need him.” She pointed at Thorns.

Thorns looked at Liv over the rim of the cup. Before he could say anything Zosh protested. “You can’t be serious. He’s still wet behind the ears.”

“He’s faster than I am and has better aim than you. And what’s best…” She made a dramatic pause. “When he forgets to pay attention, his local accent slips and he sounds like he’s from one of the core worlds.”

Thorns coughed some caf back into the cup.

Zosh’s eyes narrowed. “Republic spy?”

“Don’t think so, but we should ask him.” She looked at Thorns expectantly.

Thorns put the cup down on the countertop before he looked from one to the other. “I grew up in the Republic. No intentions to go back. Not even to get close to Anchorhead.”

“You and your strays, Liv. Criminal, deserter, or both, if you ask me. Maybe we should check if there’s a price on his head.”

“There isn’t!” Thorns stated. “Still no need to risk anyone finding out old me’s still alive.”

Liv and Zosh exchanged a glance. The way she held her arm so Thorns couldn’t see her hand, she was likely giving her partner some signs. The Zabrak nodded slightly.

Liv sighed. “Okay, fine. I guess you’ll get by with hunting womp rats. Maybe not as fast but much safer to make thousand that way.”

Thorns picked up his cup again. He’d drink till he was sure he had his face under control. Thousand credits! Yet he knew nothing about the job. Thousand was what Zosh was willing to part with without further negotiation. Wet behind the ears. Indeed. He gargled with the last of his caf. There, much better! He sat his cup back down. They needed him, they’d pay more. “Thank you for the caf!” He looked Liv in the eyes. “You remember where we met yesterday?”

She nodded. Of course she remembered.

“There is a merchant stall with some benches opposite. I’ll be waiting there for an hour. Gives you and your friend time to discuss the information you’re willing to disclose before I decide if I am interested. I’d really hate to shoot you if you thought I knew too much if I wasn’t.”

Liv made no move to stop him when he reached for his belt and buckled it on. Zosh glowered at him when he walked past to the door. “It’s dumb to throw away an opportunity like this!” the Zabrak grumbled.

Thorns didn’t turn back. “Maybe it will be an opportunity once you decided to give me a fair share. We’ll see. One hour.” The toothpick didn’t go towards carrying the tune he was humming on his way back to Rhen’s stall.

@Alaurin:

Yea, I tried to make Satele seem less like, well, a *****. She's aggravatingly indifferent, even for a Jedi, in game. I think the writers forgot that she's kicking 60 in SOR. I tried to show her as more like what she'd actually be; the "wise old witch" type grandmother who always has the right advice, but makes you connect your own dots

Reflections: or fantasies?! /tinfoilhat. But seriously, I really, really loved the way you showed the stirrings of what will eventually become romance between your Consular and Lieutenant Iresso. (Or maybe I'm assuming too much). Your description of her is terrifying, too. I know exactly what hairstyle your character uses in-game now, lol.

@Mirdthestrill:

What is a strill?

Go for it! I can hardly make a post on the TOR forums without filling it with either irreverence or really dull wit, so I'm glad you liked the phrase!

Thanks for the vote of confidence about Nomi Sunrider. I've never actually read the comics, either... I haven't even played KOTOR! So I was super worried about getting the characterization of Nomi and Bastila waaaay off.

Face Merchants, pt. 2: Man, sucks to be Jorgan. Thrown under the bus on Ord Mantell. Falls into a dumpster on Coruscant. Can he catch no breaks? Nice cliffhanger though. Right as it gets interesting!

@Frauzet:

Greenhorn: So I went and read the linked stories, too. Interesting things, I must say. Thorns isn't sure if he and Livida slept together, but a giant Zabrak assumes it, and not only does the woman in question deny it, she's got a marriage on the side. Tread lightly! The interplay between different bounty hunters is intriguing; makes me wonder how much the payout actually is that they're willing to toss a thousand credits like it's nothing.

Even long after nightfall, the jungle's oppressive heat forced its way into her armor. Her tunic underneath clung to her skin, sodden with humidity and the rivulets of sweat running between her shoulder blades, a feeble mirror to the river whose trail she followed. The comforting leather grip of her saber - unlit to escape notice - was beginning to show signs of water damage.

With the canopy arching dozens of meters overhead, she was forced to rely on her other senses to navigate in the darkness beneath. The murmur of the flowing river, the coarse scrape of her fingers along the cliff's seat, of the Dark Side as it coursed through all things here. Except the river.

On this habitable fourth moon of Yavin, the darkness pervaded everything - the sandstone running beneath her gloved hand, the trees high above, the even the occasional moth with wings of shimmering midnight blue, flitting through the air. Even the waters, except this lone river. Seeping back into the water from the banks as though it were following the torrential rains so common in the jungle, but the river itself was not suffused with the Dark Side; it has been cleansed.

She knows she is on the proper path.

Not far ahead there was a dim ivory glow, brightening on her left-hand side but then vanishing into the outline of a bend in the cliff. The Dark Side had flowed back into the river more feebly here. She must be close.

And then it hit her. Inexorable but serene, a tremendous wave of Force caressed her mind, wholly unlike the darkness which had clawed its way into the foundations of this moon. It flowed around her, an endless tide of light defying the shadow.

The ethereal touch of the Light Side made her feel... off. Not nauseous, as some of the more powerful Dark Council members did, but something else. Vertiginous, perhaps. She had grown up, had thrived, wearing the Dark Side as a shawl her entire life. The Force emanating from her unseen destination made that cloak feel threadbare; it made her uneasy. She wasn't sure how she should react - or what she would find - for she'd never felt from whom she sought Force of this strength.

Rounding the promontory, she could hear the thunder of a waterfall as the jungle gave way to the swampy silt shore of a small lake. The cliff fell away from her left to edge the lake on two sides. Across the inky water a waterfall tumbled down the cliff, pierced by a blazing amber fan in the darkness. A quivering reflection of it streaked across the water towards her. She began to pick her way along the rocks below the cliff to reach the figure she could sense behind the radiating beacon.

* * *

Shards of green and blue tumbled languidly in a halo around her. The unceasing roar of the waterfall shielded her mind and the modest cave into which she had retreated from outside distraction. She concentrated on her experiences, her memories, binding them into the Force and through it, the glittering cyclone within whose eye she knelt in meditation.

Clemency for the Republic squad who abandoned the Revanite cause... Freeing Theron Shan from Revan. A frenetic rush to disable the signal jammer... Convincing Grand Master Shan and Darth Marr to acquiesce to meeting face to face on Rishi.

...Joining forces with the Empire to end the Revanite threat. Tomorrow's planning for the final push into the Temple of Sacrifice to stop Revan's insane plan...

A presence tumbled across her consciousness, a black mark intruding against her tiny Light Side sanctum. Unmoving, she reached across the pool before her in thought alone, pulling her lightsaber from her neatly folded effects into the air.

The matte black hilt inlaid with silver spun silently, end over end in the moist air. As the uninvited guest slipped through the mist, she willed the twin blades to activate, a deep thrum barely audible underneath the torrent. Pointing the forward blade down at a low angle - defensive but unthreatening - towards the visitor, she remained kneeling on the slick stone.

* * *

After much travail, she was nearing the end of her journey across the rocks, slippery with algae and spray from the waterfall that now stretched several dozen meters above her head. The torrential spindrift had uncomfortably weighed down her mantle and matted her blonde hair in a stringy mess. Thankfully, the night had cleared off so she had the ruddy light reflecting from the planet looming in the sky to illuminate her path. She could see no avenue to the ridge which formed the lip of the cavern she sought to enter, and the glossy, water-carved stone would offer no purchase to climb. She would have to use the Force to jump the distance.

With a click she could feel but not hear, she holstered her lightsaber, mentally preparing to jump more than twice her height. She exhaled and leaped, just high enough to catch the edge with her forearms and hoist herself onto the ledge. Acrobatics were not her strong suit.

She walked through the thick mist, throwing her hands up before her in a gesture of supplication as she heard the telltale ignition of a lightsaber.

As she stepped forward, the mist cleared to reveal a small undercut chamber in the rock face. A central pool, mirror-still and perhaps ten paces across, was flanked on one side by a lantern hovering near the roof. On the opposite side, a black saberstaff hilt floated above a neatly folded pile of clothing, droning deeply with its dual colorless blades extended in warning. In the center of the grotto was a familiar figure, kneeling at the pool's edge, surrounded by orbiting motes of glinting green and blue glass.

She spoke, unable to keep a hint of fear from her voice. "Master Synchordia! I'm unarmed; please, put the lightsaber down!"

* * *

With a sharp hiss, two alabaster blades disappeared back into their handle, which lowered unhurriedly to rest atop the folded cloak. Synchordia knelt in silence, eyes closed and giving no other outward reaction to the presence of the other woman.

Until one shard of glass stopped tumbling through the air, frozen in place above the pool, a phantom counterpart reflected upon its surface. The nimbus began to speed up, churning around the Jedi, casting flecks of emerald and beryl light on the rock walls. A second shard joined to the first, one triangle of blue fused to one of green.

Another shard stopped, melded again to the first. And another. And another, until the corona had spent itself. And in its place was a palm-sized cube, formed anew and hovering above the pool, slowly rotating. The Jedi extended her hand, and the artifact landed softly in the palm of her fingerless glove.

She opened her eyes and smiled at her visitor. "How wonderful to see you here, Lana Beniko." Turning her hand outward, she levitated the cube to a stop next to her lightsaber.

"I was not expecting to be disturbed by any visitors this far from the war-camp. You've caught me at less than my best, I'm afraid." Syn stood, running her hands down her sides - ostensibly to smooth wrinkles from the wrapped earth-tone tunic she habitually wore underneath her cloak, but also attempting to give her Sith counterpart the slightest tease as the damp linen clung to her skin. She had done reading on the hyperspace flight here for an occasion just such as this.

Lana wore her countenance in a mask of indifference. But after Rishi, Synchordia could sense otherwise.

"Is the Jedi holocron why you came out to this remote cavern? Did you find it here?"

"Yes, and no. I brought it here from Rishi. I was adding memories to it when you arrived; this far away from the temple complexes there was nothing to interrupt the ritual."

The Sith's eyes widened in astonishment. She gestured towards the unassuming cube. "This...this is your holocron? That explains the strength of the Force I felt flowing away from here. I had no idea..." Lana trailed off.

Syn smiled, removing her gloves and tossing them on top of her other belonings. "I do as much diplomatic work for the Order as I do... clandestine. I learned very quickly to shield myself from prying Force-sensitive eyes. It does not do well to shine brightly when trying to stay hidden. I had hoped the sheer outpouring of Force necessary to write in the holocron would deter any curious Massassi... or Sith." The corner of Syn's mouth curled up in a wry smile. "It seems I was mistaken.

"You are not here about any artifacts, though, are you."

"No." Lana took a step forward, although she lowered her gaze, unsure how to begin. "I... on Rishi, when - when you..."

"When I kissed you?" Syn's deep jade eyes glittered as she smiled at the Sith. "Were you surprised how un-Jedi-like my actions were?"

Closing the distance with a step, Synchordia gingerly wrapped her fingers around Lana's hand, caressing the back with her thumb as she spoke. "I suspected but could not be certain of what you felt. Or even if you felt as I did - as I do. There was truly only one approach to find out and... I surprised myself a bit also, crossing that line."

She leaned in close, laying her other hand on the flared collar of Lana's cloak, her amethyst lips a breath away from the Sith's. "But I don't think you objected," she whispered. Syn closed her eyes, enjoying the aromatic and spiced perfume her partner wore, hidden beneath the scent of rain.

And then she felt it. The evanescent warmth of Lana's breath, followed by the ephemeral graze of the Sith's lips against her own - hesitant and halting. Syn curled her fingers, gripping Lana's collar and pulling them together, bodies pressed tightly and lips locked.

Both Jedi and Sith barely breathed, barely moved, neither wanting to break contact. Synchordia moved first, opening her eyes to drink in the vivid amber of Lana's. She sidled her hand from the Sith's collar to her bare neck, tracing her fingers across her collarbone. Syn's other hand caressed Lana's fingertips as she let go of her hand to place her palm lightly across the Sith's hip. Syn grinned mischievously.

"You're wearing far too much clothing for how hot it is tonight." She placed a swift peck on Lana's lips and added, "I'm quite serious, and not just wanting to see you out of them. How are you able to wear a cloak and armor in this kind of humidity?"

As Syn undid the clasp on the Sith's emerald cloak, Lana giggled softly, slithering a hand around the Jedi's waist to her backside. "And what makes you think I'm willing to go that far, Master Synchordia?"

She slid her hands underneath her companion's cloak and off her shoulders, feeling the warm durasteel of her breastplate underneath. Using the Force to fold it neatly and place it delicately beside her own, Syn cocked a hip. Pressing her derrière against Lana's hand she said, "your hand wouldn't be there if you weren't at least intrigued."

"You are, without doubt, the worst Jedi I've ever heard of."

Syn laughed. "You say that, but you have no idea. The four-day trip to Yavin afforded me much time to consider

just what I might like to do with you." Having said this, she wrapped her leg around Lana's and kissed her deeply.

When Lana broke the kiss, Syn leaned back, tapping a fingernail on her breastplate. "Now, how do we remove this?"

"It's simple." Lana slid her hands off the Jedi and languidly stretched them over her head. "Four clasps on each side; two on each shoulder."

Syn sighed in mock exasperation. "The next time you come to have your way with me in a secluded and romantic place, don't wear armor," she teased. Concentrating, she felt the workings of Lana's breastplate through the Force. With a series of soft clicks, the two plates opened and fell away, levitating to join the rest of their gear.

Lana exploited her newfound freedom to swiftly pivot around behind Synchordia. "You want me to have my way with you, hmm?" She caressed the Jedi's shoulders breezily, moving her hands down the her back and around her stomach, and kissed the nape of her neck.

Syn closed her eyes and sighed delightedly as she was pulled close, enjoying Lana's touch through her clothing. She placed her hands over the Sith's, intertwining her viridian fingers with pale ones. Sensing Lana's indecision, Syn brought an entwined set of hands to her mouth, kissing the backs of their fingers.

"Yet you suspect I have no experience."

Lana murmured her confirmation into Synchordia's shoulder.

"I had never... even kissed anyone before that moment we shared on Rishi. I'm certain you know the Jedi Code approximately as well as I know that of the Sith, so you understand why.

"Some time ago, I discovered... something which forced me to take a long look at what it meant to follow the Code. What it meant to be a Jedi. Indirectly, my decisions have led me into your arms. Imagine! A year ago the very idea of Sith was abhorrent, and now I am about to share myself - body and spirit - with one!

"In my defense, I suppose, you're not like most Sith, Lana." Synchordia took a deep breath, relishing the gentle pressure of the Sith's body against her back. "Had you been born in the Republic, you could have been a great Jedi."

Lana disentangled one hand to slide it between the folds of Syn's tunic. "I think you will find I would have made a terrible Jedi."

As fingertips glided downwards along her smooth emerald skin, Syn felt the muscles of her core tense nervously and then relax at the Sith's feathery touch. It felt as though tiny electrical storms were passing over her skin, and she gasped faintly at the sensation. She smiled, thinking such things were not outside the realm of possibility for the Sith.

"Synchordia... if you are ever uncomfortable, tell me."

Responding wordlessly and assentively, she moved Lana's hand, still above her clothing, up to her breast. "Please... just 'Syn'."

She could feel Lana smiling and biting softly at her neck, as she slid her other hand lower, across her navel, underneath the waist of her breeches to rest low against her belly.

She leaned sideways, turning towards Lana. "You're not going to stop there and leave me wanting forever, are you?" Visions of the coming battles lanced across her mind - we may never have another chance.

"Perhaps."

Syn teasingly bit her lower lip and smiled before kissing her nascent lover with a passion that seemed to surprise the Sith. She felt Lana's hand reach its destination - and heretofore unknown feelings her hand was eliciting swirled through Syn. Despite herself, Synchordia moaned gently into the kiss.

She started to turn fully around in Lana's arms, hoping to return the favor, but the unexpected intensity of her lover's ministrations blanked her thoughts. Syn lost her footing on the damp stone; crying out, she tumbled into the pool, dragging Lana with her.

The jolt of surprisingly cool water against her sweltering skin snapped her mind back into focus. Jedi training kicked in; sensing the water through the Force, Syn twisted her body to orient herself upright. Kicking out, her foot connected heavily with the pool's bottom. She hadn't noticed through the dark water that the pool's depth wasn't enough to reach her shoulders. Behind her, a splash and sharp gasp followed by coughing heralded Lana breaching the surface.

Syn spun, throwing an arm around the Sith's shoulders to keep her steady. "Are you injured?"

"I'm-" She coughed again. "I'm alright. Just not a strong swimmer." The human wiped her hair from her eyes and glanced at her companion. "Thank you for caring, Syn."

The Sith tugged at the cord drawing her tunic tight. So loosened, in one fluid motion she pulled it over her head, tossing it aside.

The Jedi's umber eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You're welcome."

Despite her outward confidence in displaying her petite body, the Jedi could sense Lana's trepidation; warring internally whether to cover herself or not. Syn closed the gap before her lover's courage waned, water flowing from between the two as they softly kissed.

"I seem to remember something about wanting me out of my clothing."

Brushing a strand of sandy hair behind Lana's ear, she smiled. "I might have mentioned something in passing." Syn idly trailed the fingertips of one hand down Lana's collarbone and across the swell of her pale breast as she slid backwards through the pool.

"My turn," she grinned wickedly. Stretching her arms behind her back, she disrobed with the Force, her tunic unwrapping and her breeches unlacing to disappear onto the rocky edge behind her. She ran her hands invitingly up and down her body, viridian skin glistening in the lantern's glow.

Lana reached towards her, lightly tracing the geometric designs of the diamonds and chevrons in black on her companion's face. As she felt the slightest touch of the other woman's fingers across her lips, Syn kissed them.

"May I ask... are these natural skin patterns, or cosmetic?"

She smiled against Lana's fingers. "Tattoos, in fact."

"Ahh. What do they mean?"

"I will recount their stories for you later, perhaps after we are finished with the Revanites.

"For now... we have much more important matters." The edges of her mouth curled up as she gazed into her lover's golden eyes.

"We do, don't we?" Lana surged towards Synchordia, wrapping her hands behind her bottom.

Being lifted out of the pool, she shrieked softly and laughed, one hand behind Lana's head and the other on her shoulder. She could feel the cool, hard stone of the pool's edge as she was set down. "I... enjoy you, Lana."

"I certainly hope you will."

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes as Lana kissed and nibbled her way up the inside of Syn's leg, leaving a fiery trail.

Neither of them would rest tonight.

Where to begin? Ok, yea. So this will almost assuredly be the most graphic (nonviolent) thing I ever post. With the touch prompt, I couldn't resist. I also spent literally two weeks reading and rereading and refining and working rather diligently to try and make this story absolutely irreproachable.

I don't know. I'm pretty sure I failed hard in that regard. I also have no idea how realistic it is. Being not a woman, I have no idea how two women would interact in this way. I kind of... guessed, using my own experience with girlfriends, but I don't know if that's really 1:1 translatable.

Also, Syn uses the force a lot for seemingly minor things. That's on purpose, mostly. I was trying to show how the incredibly intricate mastery of the Force the Consular has manifests if the character is a Shadow, rather than a showy Sage. And have you seen Clairvoyant Strike? That ability is crazy. It's like the most horrific blender ever, and a Shadow does it without actually touching their lightsaber. They throw it into the target, using the Force to spin it at a high speed. Yeesh

Also, I kind of feel like a fool. I wrote my first story establishing my Juggernaut, Authenta, as having a white lightsaber, because I'd planned to use a black-core of some color on my Shadow when she finally hit 50. I didn't like the symbolism implied, though, so I ended up pilfering my ancient-as-dirt pre-CM white crystal for my Shadow. Question then, for everyone: Should I retcon "Secrets Long Forgotten," or leave it as-is and just never explain why my Juggernaut doesn't actually have a white lightsaber in later stories?

Anyway, I threw a nod in at the start to Lunafox's incredible epic "The Foundation of All Desire." I thought I'd be fanboyish like that. (And I'm sorry I haven't gotten around to rereading it yet! I got sidetracked by a ... dumber than usual client not understanding the limitations of website construction or hosting.)

There's also a Pirates of the Caribbean reference in there because... "Sorry, mate. Couldn't resist."

only a few at the moment, I'll write the rest later (when I've read all of the newest stories).

@Bultitudes_Lokes: I enjoyed the natural feel to the brotherly bond, the way that Ark loves his brother, even through his temper, and the impotence Ahenobarb's wrath imposes upon him on Tython. I only have one very small quibble: the Cathar Jedi's called Nox. We all know and (love/hate/laugh at [delete as appropriate]) Darth Nox. Is the Cathar aptly named or will get mistaken for the Darth infrequently?

@Toatokua: Good story, I always liked the notion of falling into Intelligence, just like Captain Medle. I agree with Mirdthestrill about slowing and showing a bit more. One quick question though, is Blayk a 'normal' human or a

@Alaurin: As always great characterisation. I liked the interplay between the Lissa and Felix and how distinct their internal voices were even though they were talking about the same series of events, more or less.

@Mirdthestrill: I liked the difference between Mallena's no-nonsence combat and Jesassai's holodrama-inspired 'tactics'. The cliffhanger at the end was a welcome addition. We always see how bad@ss the PCs are, never how much they screw it up. Now I really want to know how they get out of there in more or less one piece.

@Diviciacus and @Frauzet: sorry, haven't read yours yet. I didn't get a lunch break to read them in. Come back tomorrow.

Tucking my holocomm back into the robe pocket, I padded back into the chamber. Master Satele was gone but that suited me just fine. Slipping into a now-familiar meditative trance, I visualised a square metre grid over the room. The room was rectangular, with a floorplan of roughly a hundred square metres. Last time, my attention had gravitated to the body at the far end. This time, I slowed myself down, passing over everything in turn. First, I subdivided the room into two, using the two sets of arcing ornamental buttresses as break points. Mentally assigning them numbers, I started cataloguing the crime scene.

First, I perused the perimeter, the walls. They were a composite of marble with limestone sculptures and facings adorning them. The blue-grey limestone hosted geometric carvings and patterns upon its smooth surface. The wall marble was a salmon pink colour, with darker purple-red patches. I reached up and touched one of them gingerly. It wasn’t blood, just somewhere that the cobalt impurity was more prevalent than the magnesium and iron impurities.

The floor was an off-white cream with patches of blue and pink where silica and iron impurities had entered during metamorphism. I ran my hand along one of the marble wings, the sugary texture gently scratching my fingertips. If I so wished, I could reach out and see the dozens or possibly hundreds of others who stood where I now stand. I don’t. The murder wouldn’t have had a psychic imprint on the walls: anything that strong would have drawn every Jedi master this side of the Tythos ridge.

A carped dominated the centre of the room. It was made from a rich crimson thread with gold patterning and trim. Dirt had been tracked over its near end, footprints leading into the room. While they might be from any time since the initiates were last in here cleaning, it might have been left by the killer. I made a mental note to have Tharan look over the shoe size and take soil samples. Pinching a little, I rubbed it between my thumb and forefinger. It felt smooth, almost chocolatey: it was a clay. That narrowed down considerably. They had been in the Tythos ridge or possibly the ruins of Kaleth. I’d need Tharan to do a particle microanalysis to distinguish between the two.

On the left side of the section was a bench flanked by two standing lamps. Both lamps were on, bathing the plush couch in soft blues. Padding over to the couch, I knelt before it, and checked beneath. Aside from a dust-bunny and some shed scales, there wasn’t anything. I left them in place, but made a mental note to inform Tharan of them for genome testing. Depending on the age, we could find a witness or possibly the perpetrator.

On the other side, a pair of lamps illuminated a table with several chairs. A datapad lay on the table, powered down. I got up and padded over to it. It was a standard Sund Tech model, with a touchpad instead of haptics. A little red light flashed intermittently in the corner: it was low on power. I doubted it belonged to the killer: people do stupid things, but nothing that stupid. This was a murder carried out under the masters’ noses. The killer had to have thought about how to do it, or I would’ve heard how Master Jaen caved the attempted murderers face in earlier today. Still, I didn’t touch it. Tharan could lift fingerprints and place more people in the area today. He could also note the power level, and backtrack when it was last charged from the active programs.

I advanced to the last section. This area was dominated by a raised semicircle of the red-pink marble, with a pair of illumination strips running either side of the dais. On the platform was a sculpture of abstract design, meant to represent resurgence, deliverance or something like that. I’ll freely admit that art has never been an interest of mine. What I did find interesting though was the asymmetry and the fine crystal marble tipping the shorter part. Someone had cut through the limestone sculpture with an energy blade, probably the murder lightsaber. That told me two things, firstly,

Secondly, it told me a little about the killer. Whoever made the killing blow had swung the saber in an arc, as a hominid arm moves, and from the geometry, I could possibly estimate their height. I reached up with my deactivated saber, tracing the pattern of the cut. I couldn’t match it: the killer was far taller than I am. Well, I suppose we can eliminate Master Oteg.

Darkness wreathed the corners of the room. Raising my lightsaber, I carefully angled it so I wouldn’t hit anything, and activated it. Purple light banished the darkness, revealing nothing. Okay, I turned my attention back to the platform, where the murder took place.

The body lay on the floor in front of the couch. From the way he, -a wave of nausea washed back up. I fought it down- the way he curled suggested he had been sitting on the couch, leaning back when he died.

I knelt down beside the body, preparing myself. Despite what the Supreme Chancellor thinks, I am not a warrior. All of my talents lie in subtler expressions of the force, and one of them is Psychometry. The technique of reading imprints off objects. I have never tried it on a body, but the principle is similar. Reaching down, I cleared my mind as my bare fingertips brushed his flesh. He was cold. I knew he would be, but it’s always a shock to feel something so empty as the shell of a being who has become one with the force.

I felt apprehension and anger flash through my body. Then, the apprehension mixed with uncertainty, and something rubbed the bare flesh of my arms under my robe sleeves. The gentle ran down across my chest and down over my stomach. Something stirred through my skirts. I felt delicate hands liberate a phantom from the confines of trousers. My legs became lead as pleasure exploded out from my crotch, enveloping me in a fuzzy warmth. Something soft pressed against my buttocks and back through my bliss. Slowly, pain filled my nose but it didn’t matter, not when compared to the tidal wave of ecstasy flooding out from my phantom appendage. The vision faded away, as he became one with the force. I blinked once, twice, three times, trying to clear the phantom sensation from my cognisance. Twitching my nose, I snorted shaking the memory of pain from it. Well, that was… unexpected, but useful.

Ashla must be in ascent because it certainly feels warmer now. Irritably, I tugged at the collar of the form-fitting purple overdress, wriggling my shoulders to dislodge the beads of sweat. If I could, I would have taken the mantle off, but the wires that connected the shield emitters to the generator ran through the hems. To relieve myself of the weight, I would have to strip from the top down. It wasn’t necessarily where the heat was worst. There is no discomfort: there is peace. I focus my thoughts back on the investigation, where they belong.

Firstly, my assumption was wrong: there are two killers. The first distracted him with… something, while the other used gas to incapacitate and then kill him. I’ll have Tharan check the contents of his lungs to determine the gas, and then I’ll run who has access to it through the import logs. It wasn’t foolproof but it gave enough of a lead to start narrow down the list of suspects.

I checked the chrono on my holocom. Morning was at least four hours away. That was more than enough time to go back to bed, and nowhere near enough for Dr Cedrax to sober up enough for science. Still, I could hardly leave the crime scene unguarded.

Qyzen would be invaluable not only dissuading anyone from entering but also to get the scents of everyone who had been in here today. Unfortunately, he was away, dealing with a matter on Belsavis for me. Tharan was out of the question, as was my apprentice. Nadia has many virtues, but patience is not one of them. Zenith was on his homeworld, voting on an important internal matter that I had no business knowing about. It regarded nationalising several major arms companies: A Jedi does not mean to pry, but there is no ignorance. I knew just who to ask. I typed in his holofrequency, and my other companion flickered into being.

“HK, in the Western Wing of the temple, there is a meditation chamber three doors down from the stairway to the landing. I don’t want anyone to enter or leave it until I get back in a few hours. Understood?”

“Affirmative: Yes master, I shall see to it immediately. Question: What would you like done to any meatbags who try to enter?” I could almost hear the eager hope in his voice. Of everyone in the galaxy, I am probably the worst candidate to have an assassin droid. Still, it was better than leaving him for the dread guard to recover, especially after running around the galaxy on what was essentially a treasure hunt. Fortunately, my duties and missions took me to many of the locales.

“Bar them entry, on the authority of the Barsen’thor, and take their names.” I clarified. Given half an opportunity, the droid would attempt to slaughter its way through the temple and surrounding grounds. Obviously, that was not acceptable, so I had to be careful in his instructions. How Master Lucida handles the walking atrocity is beyond me, but she does have a rapport with silica-based life.

“Resignation: Affirmative, master. Will there be anything else?”

“That will be all Haich-Kay.” I dropped my holocomm into my pocket. Despite myself, I smiled, remarking at the irony of an assassin guarding a murder scene for the investigator. At least I can eliminate him from the suspect pool. HK has been with Liam Dentiri all day, discussing the finer points on how to overcome Jedi, for training purposes only, I assure you. Turning, I headed back to the master’s retreat, reviewing everything I had found.

Okay, so we have the body, which will need full forensic analysis, with focus given to cranial cut and gas in respiratory systems. The dust bunny and scales, which will need DNA identification, the dirt requiring particle analysis, the datapad which needs forensic computing and the sculpture cut need analysing. All in all, Tharan and Holiday would have their work cut out for them, pardon the pun. I would explain it to them in the morning. Padding out, I headed back to the master’s retreat, to query the good Lieutenant Iresso about uh… private matters. It was important for the investigation.

Kaellik rose from his throne, the general alarm had begun to sound. It was then that his second in command ran up to deliver the news, it wasn't good news, it never was. Port Limbo was under attack. Near as the pirate king could tell, the attacking ships were republic military. Good he thought, not an uprising, and certainly nothing I can't handle. All this can be fixed with a little subterfuge and clever tactics, and I lack neither. Kaellik placed a holocall to the fleet waiting in the next system for occasions such as this.

The next thing he did was head to the bar, losing the helmet and garb he used to convey menace and apathy to all onlookers along the way. A few minutes later, the disguise he affected was shed, and all I that was left was a man in simple clothing, an outfit that just screamed bartender. The reinforcements the pirate had called arrived, opening fire on port limbo. Soon the republic shuttles would board, unwilling to let their quarry escape. All according to plan, he the shot up the bar, doing his absolute best to make it seem like it was damaged by the bodies that littered the floor, all with their guns discharged and pointed at the opposing gang members. If you didn't know what was going on, it would look like the bodies on the floor belonged to rival gangs and the attacking pirate ships were going after major leaders of their rivals.

What he didn't know was that a contingent of Jedi were in one of the shuttles, and master Sumalee was among them, and she knew who he was. He still didn't know that, but they were coming to arrest Kaellik, not the pirate king behind a mask.

Kaellik waited in the bar for his incoming visitors. When the proximity alarm beeped on his holo, he dirtied himself up a bit, to sell the image. When the republic forces entered the bar, they were greeted by the previously prepared carnage. Kaellik felt a jolt of glee, it seemed no Jedi were with the troops, that would make his job easier and all the more fun for it. When they had entered the middle of the room, he let out a whimper of fear, deciding that the troops were likely to fall for that ruse rather than the others he could have done. From the troops' point of view, they entered an area that could be described as a cantina, but the bodies littering the floor destroyed the ambiance of good times. They found a man cowering behind the bar, quivering and whimpering with fear at the sight of them.

They asked him what happened, and got a stuttered and semi whispered response; "I...I was tending the bar, and the...then those men came b.bustling in here demanding I hand over the money in the register, when I did, more men came in and opened fire on the ones robbing me, I hid and covered my ears, I don't know what happened after that, I didn't even look up until you all entered!" Excellent, he thought, they seem to be buying it, a little longer and I'll be home free! The troops started to escort him out when Kaellik saw the Jedi, and more importantly, who was leading them. Jedi master Sumalee saw him and stormed over, her face a visage of serene rage and hurt. Crap, she found me out! Kaellik tried to slink away, but The soldiers noticed and he him there. Before he knew it, He felt cuffs lock on his wrists, and the last thing he remembered was being slammed against the wall.

The next thing Kaellik knew was that he was standing in the front of a large room, larger than any planet had a right to hold in its atmosphere. He stood before a raised podium, and to his right was a place for a dozen people to sit. The podium was occupied by a stereotype, an old white male human who looked bored to be there, wasting no time silently informing all around. He box where a dozen would sit was filled not with a random assortment of people from the republic, but his closest friends and family. Kaellik felt too much shame, and began to look around the room, anywhere but the podium and jury box. He didn't notice it at first, but it dawned on him that the spectator seats of the courtroom he currently inhabited were filled with thousands of dead people, all of the staring at him accusatorily. The only one that looked happy to see him was none other than the Voidwolf, the last person Kaellik would want to be happy to see him.

The trial began with the list of charges: "This court hereby charges Kaellik Teithyr with two thousand counts of grand theft, and ten thousand counts of accessory to murder." At this, Kaellik's friends and family looked at him in shock and fear, even Oranis, whom had supported his decision in the past looked horrified by those charges, as if the things he knew Kaellik had done were somehow different than the charges.

The trial went on, DNA evidence was presented, testimony was given, the most notable of which was Sumalee's whom clearly looked and felt betrayed by his actions and crimes.

The jury was sent off, but it was a scarce amount of time before they returned. Kaellik was helpless as the judge looked more than pleased to finally have the whole world thing over with. When the jury was finished relaying their verdict, the judge picked up his gavel. It hung in the air, moving in slow motion as the judge's mouth formed the fatal word that had doomed so many people to dates worse than death. The gavel hit the pedestal with an earth shattering BOOOOOM, and the judge spoke the word Kaellik had dreaded would be spoken; "GUILTY!"

Kaellik bolted upright in bed, his heart jackhammering all sleep from his chest. The nightmare had been haunting him for weeks now, he knew it was because he regretted the decision to lead the Pirates, but his greed and pride drove him to believe that there was no choice, how could he turn down all that wealth and power? He knew that what he had done would haunt him until he learned to live with the consequences.

He had resolved to go back to sleep when Oranis stirred beside him. Kaellik knew that someday all would find out what he had done, he just needed to clear his conscience somehow, because his weakness could still turn out some good in the galaxy. After all, being pirate king could have its perks, one of them is that he could limit the carnage caused by the gangs he controlled. Oranis pulled him back to the bed, clearly informing him that the time for thinking was over, they were both damaged, in a way, but maybe they could help each other forget, at least for a while.

BTW: Typed the whole thing on my phone in a fit of whimsy, currently on vacation without a reliable access to a computer

Please forgive grammar mistakes, I'll go back in and edit when I get to a computer

I just recently finished act one with my sniper, and I found out that, when you side with Jadus, the reason why the Castellan restraints are used is that Keeper was saving his own skin. I kinda had a spur of dislike for him after that. Don't know why I shared this, but I felt I should.

I really enjoyed Cascade. You did a wonderful job of describing the setting to include really, all senses, not just the prompted touch. I could definitely see everything very clearly laid out in front of me, hear the sounds, even imagine the texture of the stone. The words you used were rich and evocative.

I also am touched, and thank you for the nod to the Kun moth from my fic. That made my day

I know you were worried about similarities but don't. We all play in the same playground, so it's likely we'll be inspired by the same things. I think that's cool. I mean really, in a land of romantic lush caves, who isn't going to think that having a romantic rendezvous in one wouldn't be a great idea? It is a great idea Also loved the PotC references.

Now onto Syn and Lana. I think you handle their romance with a lot of integrity and sensitivity. Not to mention sincerity. I'm sure it's plain to anyone reading, that you want to portray their feelings and interactions accurately and with grace and dignity. You manage to do all those things. Like you I can't comment on how it is exactly between a same sex couple, but I don't see that love or affection would differ that much, just because the partner is of the same sex. Love is love, tenderness' are shown similarly I think. You conveyed the tenderness and trepidation between the two women, and it was quite realistic I think given their relationship thus far.

Good work, I hope you will continue with their romantic adventure. As for your warrior, I wouldn't go back to change things, but perhaps if you do a future installment include a paragraph explaining what happened to her saber crystal. I think that would work out, and you could make a story of it.

@Frauzet:I believe I might've expressed surprise at how slick Thorns could be once or twice before. Yeah, add it to the list. From almost caught in flagrante with another man's wife to getting a mystery job to (probably) getting the price even higher (and it's already very high for someone who's not even level 1 yet). All he's missing is a 'nice arsenal' joke when mentioning her equipment and we have a bond-style spy. Still, I don't trust Liv at all.

@Diviciacus: I liked the imagery of a Sith following a river of light to find passion in the unlikeliest of places. That and the sudden humanising revelation she couldn't swim very well. I'm in the same boat you're in regarding lesbian relationships, but for my two pence, I thought it was written tastefully, not too crass yet not shying away. Just one thing occurred to me. If Syn suspected that would happen, why was she recording her holocron. The matrix is force sensitive, wouldn't it pick up her 'errant' (to the Jedi) desire? That could make for some interesting, or at least amusing viewing in a few centuries.

@Oliverthefighter: I had more and more questions regarding the illogic until the last section, when it all clicked into place. For someone who often guesses plot-lines in the first twenty minutes into a film, this was refreshing. I also liked the initial plan - if everything looks like its going pear shaped, pretend to be someone unimportant, get 'rescued' and sneak off. Shame someone knew him.

Rain pounded the dirt and duracrete alike, dark green smears of grass barely visible through the murk. Wow, I’d knew the Republic vids called Dromund Kaas ‘the heart of darkness’, but I hadn’t expected them to be literal.

"It's so dark, I wonder what time it is here,” I muttered. Access spaceport intranet: search “Dromund Kaas daylight hours.” I got my answer and called up my inbuilt chrono: It was nearly midday, “Oh, apparently it's always this gloomy. Wonderful."

Zul stalked silently before me, gazing balefully over the fetid swamp. Wow, if anyone looks at home here, it’s she. Sure, Roan might be a full, saber-carrying member of the ruling caste, but he looked more like a schoolboy than a Sith. I glanced back at him and his companions.

Idly, he chatted with Vette, twirling the end of the Jedi’s leash around his wrist. Yeah, the Jedi was still with us, hands stun-cuffed behind her back, a scrap of fabric blinding her eyes and a shock collar with an insulated leash around her neck. The Black Talon crew hadn’t taken any chances restraining her, not that I blame them. She’d shrugged off Zul and Vette’s best shots and taken them both down: we’d needed the kid to bring her down. I know why he hadn’t just left her out cold in the engineering terminal, but it didn’t exactly make much sense.

“My Lord!” someone called over the background din of the spaceport. I glance back, and see a curvy woman in uniform, her dark brown skin offsetting the grey of her uniform. Weaving around a pair of humans, she approached. Reaching us, she rested her palms on her thighs, huffing slightly.

“My Lord, Lieutenant Mallohe. May I beg a moment of your time?” she asked between breaths.

“Are you really going to beg?” the kid asked, cocking his head to the side. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Vette rest a hand over her face, barely hiding her smirk. Oh come on, it’s just a phrase: no need to torment her over it.

“If my lord requires,” the Lieutenant hedged, raising a hand between her and him warily, as if he could cut her in half without a moment’s pause. Hang on, he was querying her poor choice of words but she acted like he ordered her to get on her knees. She wasn’t actually going to-…

Pressing her forehead to the bulkhead, she pleaded, “I humbly ask my lord for the honour of speaking, so we might both serve the needs of the Empire.” Wow, uh I guess she really was. I might’ve been shocked, but that was nothing compared to the kid. He just stared at her as if she’d claimed to be a star dragon and started breathing out bubbles.

After gawping for a second that lasted way too long, he awkwardly reached down and brought his hand up. She gasped as she rose into the air, resting uncomfortably on her feet. Huh, so much for all Sith craving dominion over all other forms of life, Republic propaganda vids.

Maybe kids don’t get much respect on Korriban, just like on Nar Shaddaa. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d been shooed away from tech suppliers in the Corellian district, even when I had money. Sure, it wasn’t always mine but nobody really cares about that on Nar Shaddaa. It might’ve been the first time someone’s prostrated themselves to him in public.

"You're a soldier, not a slave," he intoned, more to himself than to her. The Jedi beside him snorted, still in stun-cuffs. I don’t think she saw anything beyond the kneeling imperial, or cared. I could see it in her eye. We were all bad guys who kidnapped Jedi, murdered her friend and kept slaves, no ifs or buts.

The Lieutenant coughed, bowed her head slightly and continued, “At this moment, Lord Kras is meeting with the Minister of War to make recommendations for our next move against the Republic. I’ve prepared his reports but he also desires an interview with someone involved in the recent fighting.

“Ooh, ask her,” the kid perked up, jerking his thumb at the Jedi, “She’s a Jedi.” The Lieutenant’s eyes bulged and she almost took a step back before she caught herself. I glanced around, looking to see if anyone else noticed us, and felt my eyes drawn to the Jedi. Her gaze locked on mine and she whispered a word, ‘remember’.

I saw the general’s cooked body, the smell of grophet bacon filling my nose though the smoke tastes of ash. I hear the crackling of fat sizzle from his bones and feel the heat wash out from him. Briefly I wonder what it must’ve been like for him. He did such a great job that the empire arranged for his capture, but the psychopath they hired brutally murdered him.

“He is in the Citadel. Please proceed in a timely fashion,” she explained, as if that was anywhere near enough to go on. Even assuming we figure out which building it is, something called ‘the citadel’ is going to be huge.

“It is only with the insight and wisdom of the Sith that we can hope to win this war and conquer the hated Republic forever.” Uh huh, okay. Got it, you’ve been twisted in this Lord Kras’ service and are crazy. Wait, is that how Sith can operate down here, with total impunity? Stars I’m glad she asked the kid and not Zul or me. I don’t want to go anywhere near a load of Sith. The kid’s bad enough, and he’s pretty benign. I don’t want some passing Sith taking a fancy to my implants and ripping them out of my head.

“Hey,” Vette exclaimed, eyes fixed on the dismal weather outside, “were your orders just to ask anyone to talk to Kras or to ensure they got there quickly, ‘cause I saw the Imperial edicts on the way here. I’m a slave and the kid’s well, a kid. Neither of us can use a speeder, so if you want the great heroes who took down the general to tell Kras all about our fight, we’re gonna need a ride to the Citadel.”

“I see,” Lieutenant Mallohe contemplated, her cap drooping as she furrowed her brow “I can requisition a transport for you presently.”

“Not yet! We have to wait for someone here first, but we can go once we’ve met her, or him. Lord Braca didn’t really say which.” Roan chirped, explaining something no one really cared about to everyone who didn’t listen.

I was more fixed on Zul’s flamethrower. I wonder how many people she’s murdered with it: dozens, hundreds maybe. I saw her use it at least three, four times in Fa’athra’s palace. I hadn’t’ thought anything of it then, but I hadn’t thought clearly since I’d buried Jory and Braden behind the Poison Pit. Ugh, Jory always hated Hutt space, and now he’d be there forever, with only a thin wooden box between him and the worms. Now, I was competing in a hunt to glorify their murderers’ culture. I felt Zul’s gaze bear down on me, head turned slightly.

“Problem?” she asked, as if I had a problem when she brutally murdered someone.

“That’s it. I’m out,” I decided. It felt good, like an unbearable weight I only just noticed drop off my shoulders. Zul stopped, and looked right at me with those alien eyes. I glared right back. She’s not going to intimidate me back under her psychotic heel.

“What?” she asked, and for once I could see something on her face: confusion. Did she think I wasn’t serious up on the station?

You heard me,” I hissed, “we’re done: you’re fired, I quit, we’re through!”

“Mako, listen. The Je-,” she began, but I wasn’t done.

“No, you listen. You act like you know it all, have done it all, and think it makes you better than everyone else, but you’re not. I saw what you did to the guys up there: you burnt them alive. That’s not combat, that’s just savage. You’re not a bounty hunter, you’re a murderer and associating with you dishonours Braden’s memory.” I tore the great hunt token from my pocket, ripping the leatheris a little.

“Here’s your damn chit. Take it and go,” I snarled, hurling the thing at her feet. She stared down at it, then turned those inhuman eyes on me.

“Can we talk in private?”

“Why, so you can kill me without witnesses, burn me alive just like the General?” I snapped, drawing more than a few glances from the crowds. I didn’t care: they were all imperials. They probably cheer the psychopath, give her a medal or something for it.

Zul’s inhuman eyes widened, but only for a moment. See, she does show emotion, but only when you guess her plan to murder you.

“It was the only way,” she muttered, almost silently. Only way she’d what, get the credit? Yeah that made sense, the Sith would hog the glory unless she could prove it was her, and how else than with a flamethrower: a simple blaster bolt between the eyes couldn’t cut it, huh? Anger congealed on her brow.

“What about Blood? What about getting justice for Jory and Braden?” she asked pointedly. Oh no she didn’t… She did not twist their deaths back on me: she’s the reason they’re dead!

“Maybe I’ll never get to avenge them, but I won’t spit on everything they believed in to do it.” I whirled and stormed off, leaving Zul, Vette, the kid and the Jedi to whatever they wanted to do on this fetid swamp of a planet. I’m getting the next shuttle outta here.

The camera I sliced showed me Zul reaching for my shoulder, and then leaving it hanging. What, was she going to burn me? No, wrong arm: that was her blaster hand. Slowly, she lowered her hand and hardened her face. Turning, she stalked away, out of the spaceport and into the dark rain. She was gone, out of my life. Now I just had to pick up the pieces she’d shattered.

I carried on walking, trying not to burst into tears. I was free, but I wasn’t alone. Faceless crowds surrounded me: milling, marshalling or marching about their lives. I made my way through them, until I got into an elevator. I needed to find the departures terminal and book a way off planet, but right now, I needed to be alone more. I hit a random button and rode the elevator down.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, I sank down to my knees, and let the tears flow. I haven’t cried since the funeral, but it hurt. Yeah, sure Braden couldn’t have known she was a psycho, but the partnership with Kaina’zul’anon was the last thing Braden ever did. Now, everything remaining of him sits in a grave on Nal Hutta or in a Nar Shaddaa archive. I slumped there for a timeless while, grieving the death of Braden’s legacy. Why had I done it? Yeah, she’s a psycho, but she hadn’t done anything against me, had tried to change her ways for me, and she had kept everyone off me when on the Brentaal Star. The ding of the elevator snapped me out of melancholy.

The elevator opened up into a cargo bay, and a large one at that. Crates lined the walls and formed neat rows large enough for a speeder to get through. Over to my right, there were a dozen unstacked crates, trapezoidal ones with bars for walls. All were full of people. Wow, hope this wasn’t economy class. No, every one wore dirty purple-grey tunics and grey pants: slaves. There had to be at least thirty in there, all packed in like, well like animals. Most of them were between twenty five to forty, but a few teenaged and younger faces stood out of the crowd.

Two guys were arguing over something, one large and built like a Hutt, the other a wiry, jittery Nemoidian. Quietly, they jabbered to each other in Huttese. I can speak Huttese, seriously who can’t in this day and age, but they were too quiet and too quick for me to pick up anything. It didn’t really matter anyway. I wanted directions, not their secrets. Wandering up to them, I asked,

“Uh hey, do you guys know where the departures terminal is?” Both jumped, the Nemoidian’s hand half-tugging his blaster out of its holster. I brought both hands up, showing I wasn’t going for my holdout blaster.

“<What do you want?>” the big guy, a bald dark skinned human with a large circle tattoo around his eye that sort of reminded me of a t***** bush, snarled.

“<I asked if you knew where the departures terminal is. I’m trying to book passage off-world.>” I answered, slipping into Huttese, in case the Nemoidian couldn’t speak basic.

“You heading anywhere specific,” the big guy asked and I got a really bad feeling off him.

“<Quality cybernetics but ragged jumpsuit, looks like a noble fallen on hard times and trying’ta run off-world.>” Hey, I’m right here and you know I can understand you. Sheesh, a55holes. I turned to leave. I’ll find it myself.

“Hey, think she’s got a bounty?” the Nemoidian jabbered, turning my blood to ice. What, no I don’t have a bounty. Who goes from openly judging someone’s appearance to loudly discussing if they can capture them for profit? Amateurs.

“<Doubt it, I’m a freelance bounty hunter,>” I interrupted them. It was kind of true, Braden never let me come along to bring the target in, but I handled the research, holonet-tracking, account slicing and maintained a lot of the tech for Braden. It also made me sound tougher than just a techie. The two just looked at me, and I heard the Nemoidian’s bulbous eyes squelch as he blinked.

“<Yeah… She’ll do nicely,>” the Nemoidian decided, “<toss her in the crate with the rest of them. Lord Qet don’t need to know we lost one?” Wait what? I spun, going for my blaster. They’re not tossing me anywhere. Sheesh, all I wanted was directions, not a firefight. Pain exploded before my fingers touched my blaster’s grip.

The big guy shot me, point blank. The blue bolt slammed me in the left breast before I could even draw. Electric fire burst around my implants as my body seized up. Slowly, I dropped to the ground, the dark world fading to black.