From what I’ve heard, Lord Grathan was a Sith who wanted something and was told no, so he threw a tantrum and decided he wasn’t going to play with the Darths and their pyramids. In response, the Imperial military built a wall around his compound like an enforced time out, keeping his crazy away from everyone else’s. Why does this matter? Well, Darth Baras had sent the kid off to kill Lord Grumpypants’ secret son, to force him to grow up. By extension, I had to go too.

Okay, so I didn’t have to go, I could’ve begged the kid to let me take the day off, but I’m not sticking around the Darth while he’s all giddy torturing that poor guy. As for taking the day to see the sights, well: I’ve seen enough slave pens, sneering imperials and stark soulless grey buildings to last me a lifetime. Also, the grim weight of this place gets like a hundred times worse when the kid’s not around, so, guess I’m sticking to him: Yay me.

I squelched through the mud, working mostly on ignoring the blisters and trench foot I must be getting running about a swamp in footwraps. Yeah, when we get back, I’m so making the kid get me some decent boots. We passed some cheery but shifty-looking colonel strolling along the outer perimeter of the wall. Yeah, you go on doing whatever it is you’re doing, don’t mind us or anything.

Up ahead was a massive three-stories-high gate: the only way in and out, unless you owned an airspeeder and weren’t scared of little things like Anti-Air guns and Starfighter pickets. The gate was more a large open space rigged up with particle shield generators than a classic moving wall. For the moment, it was down. I followed the kid up the mud path, grumbling as the trees cleared enough for the mist covering my body to start forming rivulets.

Yeah, here’s another thing, does this planet ever stop raining? Sure, yeah, I get I’m from a desert world and everything, but it’s rained non-stop for at least ten days. Seriously, if it weren’t for the constant lightning lighting up the sky, no one would be able to see anything through the heavy storm clouds.

On my left, a small huddle of soldiers maintained a speeder rank beside some pinched-face grumpy-looking Sith and her lean-to tent full of Sith knickknacks. She glowered at us, paused long enough to decide something and promptly ignored us. Why do I get the feeling I’ve just avoided a whole lot of trouble?

Passing through the gate, a soldier politely pointed us towards an armoured officer standing beside an astromech droid under a little lean to tent. Yeah, why do I get the strange idea that his manner would be different if the kid wasn’t here? I snark at him but he’d already bustled off to do something.

Yeah, that was another thing, this place was meant to be the only way in and out for an uppity Sith Lord, right? So what’s with the skeleton crew? So far, I’d seen maybe two dozen regular soldiers, and a couple of war droids. That’s nowhere near enough. I mean, I’ve watched the kid take down platoons bigger than this back on the Brentaal Star, and he’s not a Sith Lord.

“Hold your position please and keep your weapons holstered, the remotes are scanning you now,” the captain repeated disinterestedly without looking up from her datapad. The astromech beside her whirred its scanner ran over us and then screeched. Okay I get that I’m carrying enough detonators to wreck a ship but-, oh. The kid perched on top of its coned head, rotating with it.

The captain snapped her head out of her datapad and stared at the kid. Yeah, I know, stuck between telling him to get off and respecting his-, wait, I know her. Yeah, she’s the officer who chaperoned us around Vaiken.

“Hi Leftenant Sarnova, remember us?” the kid beamed at her, turning his head to keep her in sight as the screeching droid spun to throw him off.

“Uh,” she took a moment for her brain to make sense of everything, “of course sir, but it’s Captain now.”

Oh,” the kid nodded, before turning his head towards me, “is that a good thing?” I deliberately didn’t smile or laugh at him. Yeah, I know: I’m real serious all of a sudden. It’s just the kid’s orange hair looks way too much like a mop when drenched. Maybe we should grab some hoods while we’re getting boots, huh.

“Yes Milord, it is.” the new captain answered, saving me the trouble of explaining why I burst out laughing.

“Okay,” he beamed, turning to her, “catch!” Her mouth cracked open and an eyebrow rose before she realised what he meant and braced herself. The kid hopped off the droid, into her arms. She coughed out a wheeze as the ten year old Sith collided with her breastplate, staggering her back. Reflex worked her arms around his waist, keeping him from bouncing off the swampy ground. Carefully, she lowered him to the ground.

“What’chu doing out here?” he chirped as she let him loose.

“We’re on the lookout for anyone with Lord Grathan, and I’m sick of letting him stomp on my people,” she explained with a sigh. The kid tilted his head to the side questioningly.

“Look, stick around a minute I don’t know if you’re familiar with the situation but Grathan’s a nightmare. The Sith Lord’s gone rogue. He’s holed up in his estate past the wall. He’s got weapons, shields and a cadre of scientists developing new tech to use against us. As a result, we have to put up with this lunacy. So if you’re here to cause Grathan problems anyway, you might help us out.

“What’s wrong?”

“There were nearly a hundred men assigned to this sector, some on the wall, some watching Grathan. Twenty are missing: my men, practically my kids. Grathan stole them and I want them back!” she leant forwards and clenched her fists with the last part. To say I could feel her anger was an understatement. People asleep in their beds on the far side of Kaas City would have nightmares about her.

“I don’t know what Lord Grathan wants with them, maybe he’s holding them hostage just to demoralise us, who knows?” she pauses for a moment, her breastplate visibly sagging with a frustrated sigh.

“But if you’re heading to Grathan’s grounds, help them get out. Tell them to report back to their Duchess,” her fervour started fading, as her cheeks started shining, “that’s um what they call me.”

“Are you a noble?” the kid asked, and only the sincerity in his voice saved him from her glare. Instead, she took a moment to settle, and then answered him.

“All officers get tagged with nicknames; it’s one of the trials of command.” The kid nodded in a way that pretty much said, ‘oh, okay’ and glanced around the wall.

“I’ve got reports saying that Grathan’s been transporting prisoners to another wing of his estate. I don’t know if it’s my people he’s moving but it’s worth checking out. Just watch yourself, Grathan doesn’t mess around.”

“Neither do I!” the kid proudly announced. I almost pissed myself laughing. Yeah, right! The kid’s response was pretty-much instant, one moment proudly exclaiming, the next in front of me glowering up at me. I ignored him, bending to make my sides stop hurting.

“Since when?” I choked between chuckles. He pouted at me and made a grumbling whine. I rolled my eyes at him, and spied the not so prim and proper captain smile. It looked good on her, all wholesome and stuff. It vanished faster than the lightning overhead when the kid flicked his head.

“Come on Vette, let’s go find these soldiers,” he sniffed, trying to hide his pout behind a painfully fake stuffy face.

She watched him squelch off, the smile back on her face.

“You’re keeping him safe, right?” She asked quietly, though I could feel the tension in the words beneath.

“Trying my best, not that it helps much. Soon as I catch up, he’s a hundred metres away and putting his lightsaber through some jungle monster’s face.”

“Hmm, have you asked him to slow down and wait for you?” well duh, what did she think I-, uh actually no, I hadn’t. I glanced at her. She smiled at me knowingly.

“Well, looks like you have your chance,” she mentioned, gesturing after the kid, “it’ll take a few moments to get the inner gate down, and then you’ve got the bridge before you reach the estate. That should give you plenty of time to talk to him about it, if you hurry.” The kid turned and disappeared around the corner, past the parked resupply shuttle.

I grabbed the wall beside her and used it to pull myself into a run. Skidding and slipping on the mud, -seriously, how did the kid not slip over?- I made my way around the corner, just in time to see the gate snap open. The kid bounced through, and blurred across the long metal bridge. Well, at least I won’t slip and slide off the side of the bridge, right? I jogged behind, watching him reach the far side and vanish up the hill.

Lord Grathan’s compound loomed overhead: the entrance blocked by an energy gate similar to the one used by the military, but with a small gatehouse on top.

Two men and a droid stood guard on top of the ramparts. Under most circumstances, I wouldn’t favour our chances, but I’ve seen the kid fight, distance isn’t really a problem. Yeah looks like I was right. The kid blurred up the wall, over the battlements and the two guys flew off the top. The droid was less lucky.

I heard the snap hiss of his lightsaber and the yowling cry of a single blaster open fire. I didn’t have to wait for long before I knew who won: the energy gate sparked into nothing.

I darted forwards, watching the unmanned anti-infantry turrets fixed to the battlements, and entered Grathan’s compound Yeah, this won’t take long at all, will it? At least I’m out of the rain.

RE: A Fly on the Wall- Awww, what a sweet-yet-sad moment for the two of them. And I would absolutely not put it past Quinn to eavesdrop on the SW and other crew members. That was pretty self-sacrificing of Vette.

RE: The Wall- I remember that quest. Roan is going to get a nasty surprise when he finds out what happened to the Duchess's men. I still like the unique character you've created in Roan here and all the development your companions get. I'm always afraid I'll screw something up when I try it. I can also see your writing improving the more you post (it wasn't bad to begin with, but it's even better now)

Ketturah woke up to bluish light filtered through tent sides and the sound of some kind of animal calling in the distance. Every joint felt stiff and sore and the tip of her nose and her fingers were bitterly cold. She sat up. She was inside a tent, tangled in an orange sleeping bag that had come halfway unzipped. Cato lay next to her, scarf pulled over his face and fast asleep.

Careful not to wake him, she slid out of the bag and looked around the tent. Where were her clothes? Oh, right. She’d left them outside to dry. Or just hadn’t remembered to pick them up. Whatever. They were there now, still scattered on the ground near the remains of the fire. She picked up her pants and pulled them on, wincing as her legs ached in protest and the damp, cold fabric touched her skin.

Her blisters looked better, she noted as she put on her sock. Still should probably put some kolto on them before she got started.

When to do that? She could wait until Cato woke up. Probably should, all things considered. But he’d probably just ask to team up again, and she’d never been good at the whole “what to say after sleeping with someone” thing anyway. Besides, if she left now, she could probably get a couple of kilometers ahead of him before he woke up.

Finished dressing, she shouldered her backpack, ignoring her throbbing shoulders, and started out into the pale morning.

Today was easier than yesterday, mostly because she had actually slept and eaten. Made trekking through endless wilderness much more fun. And today would be a good day, Ketturah was sure. Shar Noland was close, she could feel it. She bag him, grab some of his supplies for the way back, and be off this planet before she knew it.

Sure enough, by the time her stomach had started to growl for lunch, she could spot a clump of trees in the distance, much like the ones she had been seeing for the last dozen kilometers. This one looked a little different, though. None of the other places she had passed had been this green or looked so even. Someone watered this one, she’d bet credits on it.

She stopped walking and sat down on the bluff. If Noland had any serious sensors around this place, he’d already know she was there, but that would keep him from at least casually spotting her. She pulled out her macrobinoculars and tried to get a closer view of the place, ignoring the large crack running down the center of her left eyepiece.

Whoever had built this place- she’d guess someone in the Noland family at some point- had done a good job.

From the outside, at least, it looked comfortable, rustic but not too rustic, and easy to defend if you needed to. The perfect vacation spot for just-shy-of-wealthy Coruscanti types and fugitives on the run. He didn’t have any obvious defenses around the place, but if he had evaded her this long, he’d have to be at least sort of intelligent, and anyone with half a brain cell would know to put some sort of security in their last-ditch hideout.

Moving slowly, she backed up the slope behind her and waited on the other side. How to go for this? She could wait until nightfall, but that didn’t seem like it would help much. Sure, the darkness would give her a bit of cover, and she would need a little stealth for this sort of thing, but really sneaking into places had never been her style.

Besides, he probably knew the compound way better than she did, giving him an advantage if it came to wandering through it in the dark.

So that meant either going in sooner rather than later, or waiting until tomorrow. And by tomorrow, Cato would almost surely have caught up to her. Probably wasn’t far behind her now, in fact. She pulled out one of her blasters, weighed it in each hand.

He was probably expecting bounty hunters, but not her. She could just go in. Walk right up to his door, pretend to be lost and starving and injured. Then, when he opened the door or went to help her, she could pull a blaster on him and be done right then and there. The contract said dead or alive, so she wouldn’t need to worry about hauling a prisoner back to the outpost, or about explaining why she was trying to transport a handcuffed man with her off-planet. She made a face as she imagined trying to get that one past a customs officer.

With that settled, she got up and started looking for a place to stash her pack. It was harder to sell the ‘settlers daughter who got hopelessly lost’ thing with a knapsack on your back, even if there actually wasn’t any food in it. Still, she didn’t want to lose the thing.

After finding a suitably recognizable rock, she slid her blasters into her pockets and tied her jacket around her waist. Not the best concealment she’d ever seen, but hopefully it would do. Hunching her shoulders and trying her best to look exhausted and scared, she started toward the Noland place.

The area wasn’t fenced in yet, but piles of chain-link scattered around the perimeter gave evidence of plans in that direction. As Ketturah entered the cluster of trees, she saw light glinting off at least two cameras. If he hadn’t known she was here already, he did now.

It was looking like a good idea that she hadn’t tried to do anything down here at night. She wasn’t sure if Shar Nolend had made all this mess in the last week or two, or if whoever had lived here before him just wasn’t very good at cleaning up after themselves, but the place was a dump, even by her standards. Old building materials, broken-down speeders, and even a sani-steam stall littered the area between the trees. It would have been hell trying to run around all of that in the dark.

The house itself looked like it was in better shape, slightly. At least it didn’t look like a bit of Raxus Prime had decided to unload itself. Which probably meant that Noland had done the most work on it.

Setting her face to look lost and scared and very, very hungry- a look she had mastered pretty fast on Nar Shadda, even managing to talk a few gangsters out of credits on occasion- Ketturah approached the house and cautiously knocked on the door.

@Yoshi: Welcome back!! Very sneaky ladies......I totally approve. I'd hate to be those knights when their CO/supervisor finds out what happened!

@Feldraeth: Nicely done and I enjoyed reading that JK Tython piece. I never really cared for the planetary missions on Tython much and you brought out many of the questions I always had while doing them. Home of the Jedi yet not enough to deal with Fleshraiders who capture/kill their Padawans? How could they not know?!

@Oliverthefighter: I agree with you about who that person is.

@Lunafox: Oh I am so glad you enjoyed those two stories with my SI and Marr. I was so nervous about writing for Marr to be honest because I don't know the Imp characters as well as I do the Pub ones. There just so happens to be more of that story after I finish these comments/replies.

@Feldraeth: Glad you enjoyed it and the link made me giggle. I don't write much for my SI's.....or my Imp toons in general and I'm not sure why other than my Pub toons (and BH's) seem to inspire me more. I do have another for Rhianna after these comments though and she will appear from time to time in Unforeseen Complications if you're interested.

@Mirdthestrill: LOL, Rhianna is definitely a more cheerful sort......sort of a roll with the punches kind of girl. She has to be with everything she's been through. I've played a fully DS, nuttier than squirrel poo SI and while that was fun, I made Rhianna more normal. Glad you like that story and my Life Day traditions. On a personal note, my mother in law gave me an ugly Christmas sweater for my birthday (which is a couple weeks before Christmas) and that's how that tradition made it to Life Day in my universe. As for getting walked in on her bath, you will find out that Rhianna is no stranger to people seeing her in the buff and she probably figures at his age, she doesn't have anything Marr hasn't seen before . Guess he liked what he saw though and that would definitely cause a stir in Council meetings if anyone finds out.

“What is it Darius?” the petite young woman murmured, her brow furrowed with concern as she raised her head from her lover’s broad chest to look into his troubled eyes. “I may still be weak, but my connection to the Force is strong enough to tell you’re having some rather deep thoughts.”

“There could be negative repercussions if word gets out about our recent activities,” he sighed, absently running his fingers through her caffa colored locks.

“I’ve thought about that as well,” Rhianna admitted. “Although you probably wouldn’t see as much of it as I would. I don’t really know her that well, but I don’t think the Wrath would care that much…….”

“If anything, Lord Tyche would be rather amused by it,” he snorted, knowing he’d be the brunt of her teasing if she ever found out.

“Unfortunately not everyone will feel the same. Vowrawn has been trying to pursue a relationship with me since I joined the Dark Council and hasn’t been thrilled that I’ve turned him down so many times. I really don’t want to deal with his jealousy if he finds out…….but that’s the least of my concerns.”

“Ravage and Mortis,” he nodded.

“Despite their annoyance with Thanaton and support of his demise at my hand, neither has made it a secret that they don’t care for a former slave being a Dark Council member. They’ve lightened up a bit over these past few months, but if they find out about our little tryst, anytime you’ve sided with me on the Council will be called into question.”

“They wouldn’t dare….”

“Not to your face, no,” Rhianna agreed, “But that’s only because they fear you. Me on the other hand…..”

“Could become a target,” Marr finished.

“I’ve been a target since you appointed me to the Council,” Rhianna reminded him, “But if either Mortis or Ravage decide to throw their support behind those that seek my seat, it could turn the tide in their favor. So this either ends when I’m fully healed and leave your home, or we continue on, but be very discrete.”

His hand stilled when she mentioned ending the affair. It had only been a few days since that evening he’d walked in on her finishing her bath, but their time together had filled a void he had for years and he wasn’t ready to go back to that. He’d dismissed most of his staff, only keeping a few necessary servants to keep his home running efficiently and Rhianna had spent every night since Life Day in his bed where they stayed until well after respectable waking hours. They’d also made use of a few other rooms and it would be a long time before he’d be able shower without remembering that sultry voice crying out his name as he took her fast and hard against the wall with the water running down their bodies.

It wasn’t just about the physical aspect of things, he enjoyed her company as well. He’d known she had a keen mind and preferred scholarly pursuits from their numerous conversations since he’d agreed to guide her into the world of Sith politics that same day he’d appointed her to the council, but she seldom showed the quick wit and sense of humor to the Dark Council. They saw her as a cunning upstart with a less than ideal background, but they at least respected her power and intellect. He got to see the real woman within and found himself fascinated by her appreciation of even the simplest of things most people took for granted, by the way those whiskey colored eyes sparkled with mischief whenever she was about to tease him…..or glowed when her passions were roused, but most of all, by her resilience. Many of their brethren would be skulking, seething, or plotting while weakened as she was, but Rhianna simply focused on growing stronger……at least she was whenever they weren’t seeking each other’s pleasure. So when they weren’t sleeping or otherwise engaged, he poured his focus into helping her regain her connection with the Force enough so that she could practice rudimentary meditation techniques to strengthen it.

“Are you certain you are alright with keeping this a secret?” he asked, knowing many women would be offended by the notion.

“I am not like most women,” she smiled having picked up on that thought and was pleased he didn’t want to end things just yet, “I have no need to gossip about who I am sleeping with…….even about a fantastic lover such as yourself. Question is, can you actually behave yourself around me when in public and keep those naughty thoughts to yourself?”

“I don’t recall you complaining about those thoughts earlier,” he chuckled, letting his hand drift down her bare back, “In fact, you even acted on a couple.”

“That I did,” her smile broadened as she remembered how thoroughly he’d distracted her from her meditation that morning. “But getting me all hot and bothered while I’m meditating in private is one thing, probably not the wisest choice during a Dark Council meeting.”

“Probably not since you do have a tendency to blush whenever that happens,” he pointed out, then his features sobered again, “There is something else to consider.”

“What is it?”

“We haven’t exactly been careful,” he began, never thinking he’d ever be having this conversation. “I’m assuming you’ve taken precautions since you haven’t brought it up, but if something happens and there’s a child…..”

“There won’t be,” she shook her head, the smile dying on her lips as she rose from the bed, wrapping the satin sheet around her naked body as she walked over to the window. Rhianna fought back the tears that came with the surge of emotion she could never completely contain, but she wasn’t strong enough yet to shield her mind from the man who came up behind to join her.

Images appeared in his mind, a beautiful girl at the threshold of womanhood standing in front of a mirror as a man ripped away her clothing and began to touch her, work roughened hands rubbing a pregnant belly, a baby squalling, whose skin was still shining from the fluids of it’s birth, a screaming woman’s arms reaching out as the infant was taken away from her. Her emotions flooded him, fear, sadness, outrage, hatred, and above all, a never wavering determination for vengeance. While no stranger to slavery and all that it entailed in the Empire, he’d never known how depraved the trade really was in other territories.

“Who did that to you?!” he murmured as he wrapped his arms the powerful young Sith he’d grown to respect over the past few months who was so vulnerable at the moment. “Talk to me Rhianna.”

It was the genuine concern in his voice that made Rhianna decide to take the plunge and open up about the painful part of her past for the first time in years. Her voice was a hoarse whisper as she began, her eyes staring at the rain running down the window without really seeing it.

“I was taken as a slave when I was eight. A pirate gang raided our village and sold the survivors to the Exchange. Like many of the children, I was used for mundane tasks like cleaning and laundry. When I was thirteen, puberty hit and my role changed. I was rented out for men’s pleasure at first…….until I started having reproductive cycles. That’s when they started to use me to breed.”

Rage flared up in Marr, but he held it at bay so he wouldn’t overwhelm her unshielded mind, “You were forced to have children.”

“Two,” she nodded. “My first, a daughter, was born when I was fourteen. I never even got to hold her when she was taken from me and sold to a black market adoption ring. A year later, I gave birth to a son, who proved to be too large to be born naturally. They had to operate to get him out and my womb was permanently damaged in the process. It was then that my Force sensitivity showed itself. I’d always felt these odd sensations and I discovered I could make things happen, but I never really understood what it was…..until that day. I awoke when they were trying to repair the damage and in a fit of rage after finding out they took my son away from me just as they had my daughter, lightning burst out from me. I killed everyone in that room, but it exhausted me in the process. They found me bleeding out on a table and when they saw the corpses, they played back the security footage and discovered I was a Force sensitive. I was sold to a Sith Lord less than a week later.”

“He knew what you were?”

“He did, but it turned out to be a good thing. He was a good man, helped me understand the Force and taught me how to control and manipulate it. He kept me at his residence as his mistress for three years until Lord Zash made inquiries for Force Sensitive slaves. He knew there was little more that he could teach me and sent me on to Korriban.”

“Those Exchange members that kept you as a slave……”

“Are all dead,” she answered the unspoken question. “I payed the compound a visit when I was on Tatooine for Zash and found the same man still running the operation. I freed all the slaves, then ransacked his mind to pull out all the information I could. After that……well let’s just say he didn’t die well.”

“Good,” Darius nodded, pulling her closer to him before asking his next question. “What about your children?”

“I have enough information to start a search, but I haven’t decided if I want to or not. I just want to know that they’re safe, happy, and healthy. I don’t intend to take them away from their families because they would only serve as a target for my enemies. I just need to know……a closure of sorts.”

“I understand and you’re probably right about the danger,” he agreed. “But if you need assistance locating your children, my resources are at your disposal.”

“Thank you Darius……that means a lot to me,” she replied as she turned to face him. “I already have someone in mind to help with the search. A Mandalorian I met on Corellia. He’s an honorable sort and would be discrete……I trust him and that’s not something I give out easily. In fact, he’s the one who reunited me with my twin.”

“My offer still stands if you need it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she smiled sadly as she leaned up to brush his mouth with hers, “but all I need right now is to put the past back where it belongs and bury the pain again. Make love to me, Daruis……make me feel alive again.”

“Gladly,” he murmured against her mouth, deepening the kiss as he lifted her up and carried her back to his bed.

As I mentioned in the previous story with these two, I couldn’t find a name for Darth Marr so I gave him one. I hope no one minds too terribly….

Poor Rhianna, that was truly awful what her owners made her do. Really tragic. Maybe one day she'll get to see her children again...I hope. Can't really ever get enough steamy stuff with my favorite Dark Councillor. <3

@Mirdthestrill: oh the ways that this plan can go wrong Great characterisation of a young woman and upcoming but innocent (possibly even naive?) hunter.

@Alaurin: Huh, so uh wow. Wasn't expecting that at all... uh yeah, not sure what to say content wise, aside from that it's powerful. Makes the 'classic' Fem!SI origin story of being a slave dancer pretty tame. Yeah, least the exchange thugs got something back, though I've no concrete ideas on how she's going to progress. Find the children? learn who they are and their circumstances and leave them if they're okay? try to ignore them entirely as if they didn't happen? Also, Marr is awesome, especially given that they're both Sith and he really doesn't have to offer assistance by their cultural norms, yet does so anyway.

I shucked my night vest on and walked out of the refresher. My skin still shivered from the sonic shower, and the feel of synth-cotton did nothing to quell it. Yeah, that’s the last time I step in without checking for one of Quinn’s ‘improvements’. I don’t care if its eight point three percent more efficient: if it leaves you feeling bruised, then it’s set too high.

I padded into the dormitory, taking long quick bouncing steps that pulled at my chest. Hey, not my intention, it’s a side effect from trying to keep my bare feet of the freezing metal floor as much as possible. Yeah, next time we’re planetside, I’m grabbing some rugs. I get it how it clashes with the whole Sithy dynamic but so does everyone wearing socks.

Hopping onto my bed, I ducked my head and rolled onto my side. Down the far side was a pair of worn old socks, a pair I’d stolen from some Nar Shaddaa slaver a couple of years ago. What, they were incredible. I don’t know what the material is, but they feel like stolen kisses from that really hot boy you always wanted to ask out but can’t because he’s your master’s son... not that I know anything about that.

Slipping my arm down the gap, I fished them out, and pulled them on. So what if they were a grey-brown and didn’t go with my white vest or grey boy-shorts, do I look like I care about fashion? Wiggling my toes in the supple fabric, I slid back down onto the bulkhead. They didn’t stop the bite from the floor, but took enough that I felt okay walking on it.

I headed out of the dormitory, through the meeting room and into the kitchen. Slipping around the little square in the middle, I clambered up onto one of the cooking surfaces and reached my hand up over the top of one of the cupboards. It wasn’t a great kitchen and whoever designed it didn’t know a thing about using space, unless they really did. There were gaps everywhere, not large voids or anything, but big enough to hide tiny stuff all over if you knew how to look. Captain Stuffy-pants whined and moaned about me keeping bang corn in here, so I just moved it up here.

Rooting my hand around the small space above a cupboard, I feel its papery bag and slide it down. It tumbled off the cupboard top, turning in the air before hitting the worksurface with a ‘thwap’. Slipping down, I scooped it up, dusted the bag and tossed it in the microwave. Flicking the start button, sat on the lip of the central square and reached back, arching by back to open the bottom drawer on the far side, hands guiding the runners. Let’s not get my lekku caught in the drawer again, yeah. Reaching both hands down over my head, I clutched the transparisteel bowl. Gripping the sides of the island with my feet, I crunched myself back up with my stomach muscles. Now sitting, I brought the bowl over my head and down, into my lap. What, I need to keep in shape somehow while we’re in space it’s not like there’s a gym in the cargo bay or anything.

The microwave beeped a few bars of its little rendition of the imperial anthem. Sliding off the island, I hopped in front of the microwave and opened the door. The sweet aroma slithered around me as I stabbed the package with a finger, tearing the perforated line and dumped its contents into the bowl. Yeah, one thing I’ll give the Empire, they have better bang-corn. There’s no sickly-sweetened, sticky, butter substitute here: just straight up sweet or salted. Popping one in my mouth, I savoured the sweet flavour, sucking on it for a moment before crunching it between my molars. Yeah, taste and texture’s as good as I’m gonna get outside of stolen theatre bang corn.

Carrying the bowl in both hands, I padded out, down the corridor and into the central room. Hanging a left, I elbowed the door release and padded into the kid’s room. Yeah, of course he got the big room, the ship was his. Okay so technically the ship belonged to Baras, but it was for the kid’s sole use.

It was dark, and not just because only the ominous mood lights were bathing the room in a red haze. Shifting, I freed up one hand from the bowl and clapped against my other shoulder twice. Light rose out from the skirting boards, piercing through the red haze and bouncing off the dull greys of the metal walls. Yeah, TooVee had installed a clapper after the kid saw one on Nar Shaddaa. It just made everything easier.

Padding over to the bed, I lay the bowl down beside the pillow and tapped the console over the headboard. A rectangular section of floor rose up right by to the pillows, forming into a bedside table. Scooping up the bowl, I plopped it down on the table, then hunkered down and pushed on the front. It gave under my fingers and a small section slid down, revealing two small shelves. Carefully, I fished out the kid’s datapad, taking care not to brush the two glowing red pyramids. The kid said they were harmless but they made me feel queasy.

Waking the datapad up, I opened a browser, went to my preferred torrenting site and typed in the movie. Seeds popped up and I picked the one with the most likes and opened it up.

I watched the loading lights flash around the Imperial emblem and tossed it on the bed. Yeah, one thing about the Hutts is that they don’t care about other people’s intellectual property. Huge lists of movies have been sliced straight from the distributors servers, and are freely available behind a Hutt-owned subscription paywall. They know it’s wrong, but they don’t care. I think it’s perfectly fair to do the same to them.

Tucking my lekku between my breasts, I threw myself onto the bed. The rich silky sheets gave to an amazingly soft yet springy mattress. Guess someone’s turned the hardness all the way down. Scooping up the datapad from beside my right knee, I checked the download. 83% complete. Huh, who’d have guessed Tatooine had a fast holonet connection.

The door hissed open and the kid padded in. He looked dishevelled, red-eyed and almost exhausted.

“How are your hands?” I asked him, rolling onto my side to face him. His hands were covered in gloves made from medical grade bandages and as he approached, I noticed that the burnt Gornt odour had been replaced by the fishy smell of kolto.

“Quinn used a thingie and put Kolto over them so I can use them and won’t get an infection. Then he wrapped them up and they have to stay that way so I don’t get anything in them but they’re itchy,” he complained, his hands twitching for emphasis.

“Okay, the movie’s taking a bit longer to load than usual, so why don’t you go get ready for bed, yeah?” I lied. It was fully loaded but he really stank. Quietly, he strolled around the bed, up to the corner and poked the leftmost part of the headboard console. The wall panel slid down revealing the en suite bathroom. He padded in and the door hissed closed.

I turned my attention back to the datapad, quickly checking my mail. I’ve been planetside for a fortnight, there’s gonna be some buildup. Let’s see, there’s fifteen exclusive offers sent out to everyone on a mailing list, a new monthly statement from my bank and a message from Taunt. Wonder what she’s- hey, what the-, I almost leapt out of the bed as it started vibrating. The faint sound of warbling made my ear cones tingle. Huh, so the sonic shower made the bed vibrate too. Okay, well that’s not a design flaw or anything. It stopped after a minute.

The kid wandered out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of pyjamas obviously a size too big for him. Yeah, I’d pointed that out to him back on Nar Shaddaa, but they had Wallcrawler on them and that was that.

“Done everything?” I asked, not bothering with details. He nodded and clambered up onto his huge bed. Shimmying up, I closed the email browser and clapped my hands.

The lights dimmed, leaving the datapad and the overhead holo-projector as the only sources source. Leaning back against the padded headboard, I felt the kid rest his head against my collarbone. Putting one arm around him, I reached for the bowl of bang corn. Bringing it over, I set it down in his lap. The opening credits rolled and we watched the movie.

For those interested in the film they watched, play

@Mirdthestrill: Yeah, Vette is pretty self-sacrificing when you think about it. Maybe she should go on a break for the start of the next planet (Maybe hook up with Mako and see the sights of Alderaan before they're destroyed) After all, it's not like Quinn can't handle an exuberant, painfully innocent tykebomb on a planet full of intrigue and backstabbing... Okay maybe take a break after Alderaan.

As for fearing ruining characters, you really shouldn't. After all, it's not as if I've completely derailed any characters *cough Torian cough*, which reminds me. I'll have to go back and rewrite that one sooner or later.

@Alaurin Yep, "Mercy is a worthy trait, especially when the morons need a smacking way more than understanding." Some of the quests on Tython really hammer in the problems the SWTOR Jedi order has, as if they took the worst levels of hubris from the prequel era and saddled it with the apathy of the Kotor era. How do these guys get to Lord Hoth and Farfalla is beyond me. That's not to say all Jedi are apathetic arrogant @rses, but the management and organisation on the whole appears to be run by lunatics. Speaking of which...

The ship jostled as it passed through the magcon field, into the hanger. The spark and crackle of the field interacting with the shuttle shields was the only sound in the shuttle. I stood in near darkness, one hand on my lightsaber, the other on the loop from the ceiling. Around me, twelve marines checked their weapons, shields and armour with practiced ease. Th air was charged, not with tension or apprehension but a solemn duty. We all knew why we were here.

An Imperial vessel had attacked the Brentaal Star, evading or enduring everything thrown at it. Attempts to hail it, to try a diplomatic solution, had failed. They wanted battle, to murder or kidnap the General, a defector with enough information to halt the next war for at least a decade. Shortly after, we lost contact with the Brentaal Star. We were here to relieve the beleaguered defenders, or bring their killers to justice.

The ship fought against its newfound weight as the Brentaal Star’s artificial gravity took root. Light pierced through the opening exit hatch, a stark white that burned my eyes. I didn’t look away: the light is to be embraced in all things, else suffering is prolonged.

“Move it out!” Lieutenant Taspir Pyke’s gravelly growl resounded from across the shuttle. The squad of troopers swarmed out, shields on and weapons charged, ready to face whatever legion of darkness awaited us. No hail of blasterfire met them as they surged down the ramp, storming into defensive positions. They split into three four-man teams and swept the hanger. They met no resistance.

I hadn’t really expected there to be any in here, I couldn’t sense any hostility roiling in the hanger. However, there was a grave disturbance over the ship, as if hundreds had died horribly. My sense could be wrong, and I did not want to lull the Marines into a false sense of security. I followed after them, lightsaber in hand but unlit.

Three person fire-teams lay scattered across the hanger, some hacked apart by a lightsaber. A Sith had been on board, alongside what appeared to be a given the number of pocked burn holes on the far side of the hanger. Strange, I had always found Imperial marines to be more precise.

One team lay slumped against a raised fuel sump, their armour blackened from a high gas content explosive blast. My eyes moved onto the next group but a lingering sense drew my eyes back. Approaching them, I surveyed their blackened armour, the awkward positions they lay in, and felt something faint drift around them, a haze of light brush against my ethereal sense. Imperial marines hadn’t done that: they don’t try to leave people alive.

“Get a med team over here, these three still live,” I called out, the words thrumming through the still hanger. Two squads shifted from their positions, checking on the other bodies. The other two guarded the exits, in case anything decided then was the best moment to spring their ambush. Their caution was commendable, but unnecessary. I could not sense any hostility on the ship. The invaders were long gone. Slowly, the two teams recovered five troops, mostly with blackened armour and small pock-marks where blasterfire had been mostly stopped by their shields.

“Lieutenant Pyke, have the troops move up and secure the rest of the vessel. You stay here and co-ordinate the assault. I’ll go…” I trailed off. There were twelve marines, Pyke, myself and the five survivors, so why could I sense twenty people in the hanger?

I closed my eyes and focussed on the presence. It was small but persistent, a little bubble of terror so distinct from the boarding party I marvelled at how I had not immediately noticed it. Honing in on it, I turned my head until it was before me, and opened my eyes. I stared at the crashed shuttle on the far side of the hanger. Automated fire suppression systems had caked the vehicle in white powder, and I could faintly see small footprints leading to the cockpit.

Calmly, I walked over to the shuttle. I took a breath and slowly released it, letting my pity flow out with it. Sympathy is a worthy trait, but a Jedi must be calm to commune clearly with the force. It may feel good, but it limits our connection, making us less capable when something happens. Allowing others to come to harm simply because we want to feel is arrogance of the highest order. Afterwards, once everyone is clear from danger, that is when a Jedi allows themselves to feel emotion.

“D-Don’t come any closer, you heard him. Stay away!” someone squeaked from the inside of the crashed shuttle, her voice thin and reedy.

“My name is Satele, I am a Jedi and I’m here to help,” I answered simply. It didn’t matter what title I held, my Padawan self would act in much the same way, though admittedly with far more recklessness and emotion.

“Y-You’re not-,” She pleaded, voice skipping and stammering in shock. Gently, I reached out with the force and let it caress her psyche. It wasn’t a mind trick, I wasn’t compelling her to do anything, just let her feel the force, its warmth and the gentle lapping of its eddies. A deluge of relief washed out from the shuttle, followed shortly after by shame, “What’s your name?”

“H-Hanali,” she squeaked, stuttering in her shock.

“Well Hanali, why don’t you come out here and we can get you to safety.”

“Are they gone?”

“It appears so.” A head poked out from the shuttle compartment, a Mirialan woman in her late twenties to early thirties wearing a large domed helmet that only left her face exposed. I tried to ignore the dark trails that bisected her cheek tattoos. Slowly, she clambered from the ruined shuttle, slipping down the side into the snowy drifts of dried fire-suppression foam.

“Who was this he you mentioned?” I asked as she approached. She slowed, shrank before my gentle, welcoming gaze and and sank to the floor. I followed her down, patience and kindness resonating through the force. Finally, she muttered,

“The Sith. Stars above, he looked just like my Pahl.” My eyebrows rose. She actually faced the Sith and survived? Any information she had could prove invaluable, not just for the Jedi but the whole war effort. Anyone with the power to raid a Republic naval vessel was going to do so again. If we knew who he was, we could try to take measures to counteract him.

“Hanali, I know it must by awful to remember, but I need to know about the Sith. Please, tell me what you can,” I pushed, my voice as gentle as a summer breeze. She shook for a time, desperately flailing for emotional control. I brushed her again with the light, calming her nerves and steadying her resolve. The image flash that came with it was... troubling. A teenaged boy, gangly and awkward from puberty, stood before her, green skin unadorned by tattooed markings of Mirialan culture. He had a smile on his face, though his eyes were quiet, sad. He sat on a hard-backed suitcase, a small girl who shared his nose and eyes sat on his knee This Sith had almost made them orphans.

“Um, details. Right. He was human, thin with pale skin and orange-red hair. He wore casual clothes under a purple robe-style coat and had a red lightsaber. He was a kid-” That last part didn’t surprise me. Some feel the dark side is a quicker path to power, but they are wrong. The dark side twists and corrupts them even as they twist and corrupt the force into service. It does give the illusion of strength to the unwise and impatient. It’s also not too surprising that Sith sent his teenaged apprentice to assault a military vessel, they are more than willing to send innocents to their death if it furthers their aims.

“-and he wasn’t alone. There was a Chiss with a blaster and powered armour, a younger human woman in a jumpsuit and a twi’lek: a rutian with a slave collar and two blasters,” I supressed a sneer. Slavery is an abomination of our time, forcing a person’s dignity from them to serve another’s whim was cruel. “She spoke to him a lot, so maybe she belonged to him.” That wouldn’t surprise me either. The Sith revelled in warping the natural way of things, and keeping a sentient person as a possession is anathema to the will of the force.

“He moved like a Spire Falcon, all leaps and sweeps and threw Kendrick with his mind. He- he slaughtered everyone but stopped when it came to me.” She trailed off, eyes sliding over to the far side of the hanger and even from this distance I could feel her trembling. Still, Sith rarely spare people without good reason, it’s a part of their power fantasy, that they can murder whoever they want without consequence.

“He came to me and just stopped, staring at me like I was some strange new creature. Then the Chiss came and took my blaster. She demanded I tell them where the security station was-. Oh stars, it’s all my fault. They took her because of me,” she squeaked, shrinking further into herself.

“Who did they take? I asked, leaning forwards, urging her to continue. If I was not careful, she would fall into the trap of self-pity, delaying in revealing the information we desperately needed.

“The padawan,” she whimpered and I felt my heart quaver. Yadira was here at my behest, a Padawan a few months away from her trials that I had tasked with keeping the General safe until we made it to Raltiir III.

“They came back about ten minutes later with her over the marine’s soldier. They were going to take me with them too, but they didn’t have enough space in the shuttle, so he told me to run away and started babbling about how he was going to Dromund Kaas and that the sky-water would melt me.” She started slow but built up speed and pitch until the end was little more than terrified squeaks.

I frowned at the nonsensical tale and put a hand on her shoulder. You are not alone. Furthermore, neither were we. Taspir came up behind me while I listened to her and did something I had not expected.

He knelt down beside her and embraced the trembling woman. His warmth enveloped her as he bent his entire body into holding her. It was almost strange to see the hulking Zee-Gee hockey player curl around her. Then I remembered: his daughter would be in her mid-twenties if the raid hadn’t happened.

“Lieutenant Pyke, please escort Hanali to the shuttle and co-ordinate the mission from there,” I commanded, my tone soft but decisive. He glanced up at me, his eyes giving the thanks his voice could not. Gently, he guided her to her feet and steered her to the shuttle.

“Understood, but Sir,” Taspir glanced at me over Hanali’s shoulder, his eyes grim, “Besh Team found the General.” My heart caught in my throat. “He’s alive, but it’s bad.” A tension I almost hadn’t realised was there released itself from my shoulders. Hope was not lost, not while he still lived.

“How bad is it?”

“Mey just swore himself to veganism.” That caught my attention. Sergeant Mey Kaa Chume was an ardent supporter of gourmet cooking, and loved spicing everything with Tailring Bacon. For him to take such measures… it was serious enough to warrant my attention. His information could forestall the impending war for a decade, but even if he didn’t have such, no one should suffer like that.

“I see; I shall be with him shortly,” I decided, rising to my feet. Turning, I felt the force flow through me and made my way across the hanger in a matter of seconds. I was on the tram heading for them in half that time.

The coach slowed and the doors opened, welcoming in the smell of Nuna bacon. I breathed it in, almost smiling at the memory of Specialist Kaa Chume’s carbonella. The memory soured as I saw Rifleman Taung outside the tram. I knew the woman to be a daughter of Rattatak but right now, I would have named her a child of Mirial.

She clutched her assault rifle warily, eyes deliberately everywhere but meeting mine. I would have expected the discomfort on a recruit fresh from the academy, or a civilian. I have fought alongside Raina, have seen her charged headfirst into turbolaser-fire without hesitation. I have seen her fight on even as Killiks tore apart her twin brother. Seeing her shy away from this set the tone far more than any graphic display ever could.

“Sir, Lieutenant Pyke called ahead. Says there’s something you can do for him.” I nodded grimly to her and followed her in.

The Nuna Bacon aroma became a rancid stench, overpowering my nose and hotwiring its way into my brain. The thick, copper syrup smell of blood joined it. Someone had vacated the remnants of their lunch into the corner. My own decided to try and join the others. Wincing to the taste, I swallowed it back down and surveyed the carnage.

Sergeant Kaa Chume crouched over the… body, applying Kolto salves and fitting syringes attached to clear plastoid tubes into the man’s veins. My whole body twitched as I recognised the device. It was a Bacta pump, equipment necessary for a full body purge. Those were used primarily to keep someone -who should by all rights be dead- alive long enough to transport them to a nearby Kolto tank.

“How is he doing?” Mey glanced up at me, his face stolid. He didn’t say anything, instead returned to applying more Kolto patches over veins, preparing his cracked flesh to withstand the weight of a tube-syringe. Gently, I reached down and placed a hand on the least burned part of his flesh and felt the force flow through me. The force is light, it is life and it hates suffering. It flowed freely into the burnt man, providing release to his scorched nerve endings and balm to his weary heart.

“Master Shan, please don’t tou-,” Mey rebuked, but the words died in his throat. The General stopped writhing on the ground, his ruined face regaining a measure of peace. Movement behind me caught my attention

A pair of burly men in white coats over blast-proof jackets jogged into the room, already unslinging large backpacks. They rushed to the General’s side and relieved Sergeant Kaa Chume and me. The husky marine breathed a sigh of relief, one I shared. The med-techs were here: the General’s chances now were merely remote instead of extreme. Both men drew out long metal cuboids with handles and placed them at the General’s head and feet. The snap hiss of the hard-light stretcher formed around their patient, cocooning him in an utterly sterile anti-grav shield that wouldn’t press on his burns. Heaving, the two men lifted him, and carried the General away. Thank the force the Brentaal Star had a fully stocked burns unit in the medbay.

Something tinkled on the floor as the med-techs lifted the General. I glanced down at the small cylindrical tube. It was a hyposyringe, though the symbols on the side were unfamiliar. Perhaps it was Imperial in design, though that raised even more questions. Chiefly, why would the invaders use a hyposyringe on someone they planned to brutally murder? Isaw the flaw in my question as I posed it: I assumed it was a medical hyposyringe. It could have contained whatever new truth serum Intelligence handled. If so, medical would need a sample, so we can reverse engineer it and produce a counter-serum. I bent down and scooped up the hyposyringe. It was not one of my wisest moments.

Memory assaulted me. Pain exploded across the entirety of my body, a cold that burned with the intensity of a star. It rapt my body in agony for what felt like an eternity before slowly drawing back into just my centre, eventually fading entirely. Then a voice modulated strangely through the air.

“.ti no sdneped efil ruoY .nustihW rof ksa ˎrebmemeR” it warbled, the tone and pitch alien to me. I should have known. Humans are visually oriented beings, so the impressions perceived through psychometry are typically only images. One less attuned would likely not have noticed anything beyond the heat, and even for me the sound was warbled and indistinct. Clearly, I had much to meditate upon. Surveying the scene one last time, I turned and headed out into the destroyed engine room.

Zarro glanced down at the beeping on his comm. He and Maldecka were on a shuttle headed back to Tython after three missions in a row and the sound of it seemed to fill the whole cabin.

He blinked sleepily and looked at the message. It was a new mission with all the date attached. They were to head there immediately. Some sort of negotiation oversight...?

Zarro yawned and stood up, careful to not wake Maldedcka, who was sleeping like the dead next to him.

Zarro spoke quietly to the pilots, "Have you seen this message."

"Just received it, sir. Shall we adjust course?"

Zarro stifled another yawn, "Yes please."

He shuffled back to his seat and pulled up his data pad to read the mission brief. His eyes couldn't focus on the screen he was so tired.

Maldecka shifted in her sleep and settled herself against Zarro's side.

Wrapping and arm around Maldecka Zarro turned off the data pad. 'We'll figure it out when we get there.' He thought.

They both slept all the way to the space port.

_____________________

Maldecka quickly re-read the mission brief as her Master paced and fumed. They were stuck inside the space port. Security refused to let Zarro enter the city.

Zarro walked up to them again to try a different angle for getting to the negotiations.

That was all it was supposed to be. Two alien races needed an impartial witness to a trade and peace treaty. But as soon as the delegates sent to retrieve them set eyes on Zarro they panicked. They fluffed up into puff balls and lost their ability to form coherent sentences.

Maldecka glanced over at the delegates again. Both species were bird like in appearance. They each had big wings and beaks. The key difference was one was tall legs and long beaks for their marshy planet and the other had short legs with large talons and sharp beaks for quickly killing prey in their mountain homes.

Both flinched if Zarro got to close.

"I am a Jedi Knight of the Republic. I mean you no harm!" Zarro was reaching the end of his patience.

One of the security guards flapped his wings, "You are a Cathar! We do not recognize your species as equals and we do not permit you in the city without a permit!"

Both Maldecka and Zarro zeroed in on the unfortunate guard, "You've never mentioned a permit...."

The guard shifted, uncomfortable, "A...pet permit."

Zarro's eyebrows shot up, "Pet? You think my species are pets?"

One of the diplomats stepped forward, his long legs tapping on the floor, "It is a very rare thing but sometimes a businessman comes through with such a pet along with their slaves. We must accommodate the other cultures of the galaxy after all!"

Zarro crossed his arms, "So why don't you acknowledge the Cathar cultures? They are after all part of the Republic."

The other diplomat, wings short and molting from old scars, "And that is why we are not."

Zarro stood tall, taller than both diplomats, "You requested a Jedi witness. Here I am. You may make use of me or you may not."

"What about the girl?"

Maldecka looked up at that. Zarro glanced back at Maldecka.

The taller diplomat beat his wings together excitedly, "Oh she would be fine. Zabrak are always welcome on this moon."

Zarro put his hands up, "Woah now. She's only a Padawan...."

The shorter Diplomat scoffed, "So? Everyone knows Jedi are deadly from the age of three."

"They can fly..."

"Shoot lightning...."

"Commune with the song of the Universe..."

"And are impossible to defeat in debate or combat."

Both diplomats were smiling and beaming at Maldecka, completely ignoring Knight Zarro.

Maldecka quickly tapped into the Force Bond. 'Master? I think I can do this.'

She could feel Zarro's unease, 'Normally I'd agree. It's not much effort to be a witness. But something's not right with this mission.'

Maldecka let her confusion bleed through.

She could feel Zarro's frustration at not having a clear answer, 'The temple sent me, a Cathar, for starters. That’s some poor decision making or poor research. If it is the second then we have no guarantee that this is a simple job.'

The diplomats were shifting uneasily.

Maldeck could feel absolute certainty as she thought, 'Then it is all the more important we be here.'

Zarro smirked, making all the guards flutter nervously, 'Indeed it is. Go with them, keep in touch over the bond. I'll make some calls and get us some back up.'

Zarro reached over and squeezed Maldecka's shoulder. Maldecka was glad he didn't ruffle her hair. She needed to appear mature and powerful in front of the diplomats. "My Padawan will oversee your treaty. I will remain in the space port. Does this satisfy?"

Both diplomats smiled down at Maldecka, "Absolutely."

Maldecka ignored the sudden coil of fear in her gut and strode forward into the city.

_______________________

As soon as Maldecka and the diplomats left Zarro sprinted for his comm. What bird brained fool had assigned them to this mission?

Half-way through punching in a number for the temple Zarro paused. What if it wasn't a mistake?

Zarro let that idea roll around in his head for a moment. Then he canceled the call. But he still needed help.

With sudden surety Zarro punched in a number.

"What is it? Do you know what time it is here? Or have you finally decided to go back to nature and go nocturnal?"

"Orgus, I need some help."

________________________

Maldecka had to admit she was very impressed with the city. It's buildings were tall alabaster towers and pedestrians flew from entrance to entrance.

Both Diplomats were silent in the car provided for her convenience. Maldecka had expected some level of talk but both just looked out their respective window in silence.

Soon enough they pulled up to the hotel where the meeting was happening. It was dripping wealth. Maldecka hopped out and followed the quiet diplomats inside. Security gave Maldecka a card and a room key. Then they all went into the meeting room.

Maldecka had to stop and stare for a second. If she thought the rest of the hotel showed wealth then it had nothing on this room. A long wooden table was divided with a gold strip to mark the two respective sides. On the walls were all manor of shiny objects, back lit by light and cut through with waterfalls at points. Greenery was intermittent everywhere. Getting over her surprise Maldecka turned her attention to the two parties in the room.

Everyone was staring at her.

Maldecka could feel fear roar up inside of her. Fear that she would mess this up, fear that the delegates wouldn't like her, fear that she would let Knight Zarro down...

Maldecka rolled her shoulders and lifted her chin, "I am Maldecka of the Jedi Order. I look forward to witnessing a peaceful and pleasant treaty signing."

The delegates nodded and were soon introduced en mass to Maldecka. She could barely pronounce the names, much less remember them. And most of them were indistinguishable to her eyes anyway.

All but three that is. The two delegates who retrieved her at the space port, and a short young warrior named Trrr*!kk. He was wide eyed and shifting nervously while everyone else carefully masked their emotions.

Soon enough Maldecka was sitting at the head of the table while the two groups began to finish the last parts of the treaty.

As it turned out this meant they would argue about specific asteroids and space objects and trade route taxes.

As voices began to rise in volume Maldecka resigned herself to a long day.

__________________________

Zarro prowled. He knew he should tone it down because everyone in the space port was giving him a twenty foot distance from the bench he was stuck camping out on. But he couldn't help it.

Spinning around and striding back he pondered. When he had tried to meditate and calm himself all he had gotten was a deep sense that something was terribly wrong.

Zarro tried to rationalize it as his own discomfort of having to send Maldecka in alone. He was overly attached like Orgus said. Maldecka was ready for a solo mission and this sounded easy enough....

But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. It didn't help that the hotel she walked into had some sort of force suppressant around it.

Zarro had already figured out five no casualties routes into the city. He has pulled up a map and figured out seven ways into and out of the hotel. He knew more about these two species than he ever wanted to. And now all that was left was to sit and wait for the right time to spring into action. If needed. Hopefully it won't....

Hearing his comm chirp Zarro all but lept to get to it.

"Zarro here."

Orgus grinned up at his friend, "Good news. I've got an old friend in the area who can come and help you out. He should be there in five hours or so."

"Who? Reunions with old friends of yours generally end badly for me."

"You probably don't remember him. Its..." The small hologram of Orgus turned his head suddenly.

Zarro looked at the now crouching hologram with concern, "Are you calling me from a stakeout?"

"Trap actually. Jedi do make the best sith bait."

Zarro rubbed his face, "Force Orgus....thanks for calling in your contact. Be safe."

The hologram Orgus shot him a look of contempt with a grin, "Be safe? You must have called the wrong number, Zarro."

With that Orgus shut down his end of the hologram. Zarro was left looking at the little device.

Sitting down on the bench he set his watch for five hours. Sighing he attempted to meditate again.

____________________________

Maldecka was apparently terrible at space Pictionary. She had accidentally walked into and used the men's bathroom. Good thing, given what she had just overheard.

Several hours into the squawking arguments that will eventually become a treaty the delegates had called for a break. Maldecka naturally sprinted for the restrooms and hadn't had time to sort out for sure which winged symbol meant female.

But now she needed to do something about the schemes she just over heard.

Tapping at her force bond Maldecka realized she couldn't feel Zarro at all. Panicking she put all her strength into reaching him. It was like the bond didn't go to anyone anymore.

Maldecka glanced out the window wondering what on earth she should do. She wanted to go hunt for her master but she needed to be at the negotiations, especially given what was coming.

Maldecka closed her eyes and tapped at the Force, wondering if it might give her a hint. To her surprise she felt a strong pull to a cantina of all places.

Rolling her shoulders Maldecka leapt out of the hotel onto the street. She trotted over to the cantina and wandered inside.

"Maldecka? What are you doing here?"

_______________________________

"Whiskers!"

Zarro's eyes flew open. "Oh Force no..." Before he could finish Zarro found himself scooped up into a rib crushing four armed hug.

"Ah, you old geezer. Still running about the galaxy? I figured at your age they'd have you in a nursing home!" The red skinned alien stepped back, shaking his head and forcing passerby's to duck under the long horns coming off of it.

"I'm only 37 Taar'lep."

"Only 37, most people die at 30!"

Zarro resisted the urge to throttle the tall alien before him. Taar'lep's species lived very short brutal lives. They had four arms and long horns, about a meter across. And they were loud, dirty and annoying asteroid miners. Orgus though Taar'lep was hilarious. Zarro wished they had never crossed paths.

Instead Zarro folded his arms behind his back, "Did Orgus fill you in?"

Taar'lep let his constant smile fall, "One of the little jedi is stuck in the city with a potential military coup brewing."

Zarro tilted his head, "Military coup? What military coup? We're here for a peace trea..... I must get into the city."

Taar'lep threw back his head, nose ring bouncing, smile restored, "Got you covered Whiskers. My herd's been mining the fields around here for almost a decade now. We're pretty good at forging their documents." He passed Zarro a sheet.

Scanning it Zarro felt his frown deepening, "You're kidding, right Taar'lep? This is a joke?"

Taar'lep was already pulling out a collar, "Nope. Only way to get you into the city."

Zarro took the collar, reading the tag, "You wrote Whiskers on here. How did you do this so fast?"

Taar'lep rubbed his head right behind his horns, "Orgus may or may not have intended it to be a joke. We just never could figure out how to trick you out here and kinda forgot. It was years ago when we were young."

Zarro grabbed his bag, "Okay, fine. Let me send a quick message and we'll head out."

_____________________________

Orgus ducked as another lightsaber swung for his head. He knew he was dealing with amateurs, but with five amateurs running about swinging lightsabers, something vital might get cut off. Orgus would prefer it not be cut off of him.

Hearing his comm chirp Orgus leapt up to the high ground and tossed some debris at the sith. Four ended up stuck in the ensuing avalanche of junk. The last one launched himself at Orgus as he pulled out the comm.

Calmly Orgus caught the sith mid air and clicked the comm open. It was a simple text form Zarro.

'Payback is coming.'

Orgus just threw back his head and laughed, much to the chagrin of the captured sith.

______________________________

Maldecka settled herself back at the head of the table. All the delegates were looking over her shoulders at her guests.

"They aren’t jedi."

Maldecka smiled, "They are currently in my service and thus should be afforded the same treatment I receive."

She could hear a quiet roar of twitching feathers and shifting wings.

Maldecka instead motioned to the table and tried to mimic Knight Zarro's business voice, "Now I believe we are all here for a peace and trade agreement?"

Malsept and his brothers adjusted their weapons as they stood behind Maldecka. Every delegate felt their glares as they watched everyone come back to the table.

_______________________________

Zarro could feel anger and resentment racing about like riptide through the Force. He was staggering a bit under the pressure of it. Turning to Taar'lep he sputtered out, "How long has it been this bad?"

Taar'lep shrugged, sending pedestrians scuttling back from him, "I'm not sure when it started but some of these birds got the bright idea that the Republic is pretty swell. Save for the Cathar. Nothing unifies people like a boogieman they can all hate."

Zarro strode forward, intent on the hotel, "Then why bring in Jedi? What does that achieve?"

Taar'lep shrugged, happy smile on his face, "Maybe they wanted you to put in a good word for them?"

Zarro waved his right hand irritably while his left scratched under the collar, "No...then they wouldn't have put force blockers around the hotel...."

Taar'lep shrugged again, "Did they request a padawan/master team? Everyone knows how protective Jedi are of their little ones."

Zarro stopped dead in his tracks. Taar'lep turned back to see Zarro staring at him.

Zarro flexed his claws, "How well can you fight?"

Taar'lep punched his fists together, "I never lose, Whiskers."

______________________________

Maldecka was carefully watching the guards around the room while the diplomats continued to argue about the treaty.

As it turned out, both sided had come with the intent to stab the other in the back. They coordinated together to kidnap a jedi and hold them hostage for some moon near their territories. But then each side secretly planned to rescue the jedi to get their race on good relations with the Republic.

Maldecka had neatly tossed a wrench in that when she found Malsept.

When she found him in the cantina she had quickly explained that she needed someone to go find Knight Zarro. Malsept, in return, explained why bunch of mercenaries were on the planet to begin with. They settled on sending two brothers to get Zarro at the space port while the other three follow Maldecka to the negotiations.

Now the diplomats were completely hung up on a single asteroid.

Malsept quietly leaned down to whisper into Maldecka's ear, "They're using code. I can't tell if the asteroid is you or your master."

Maldecka tensed up before she could help it, "Have you heard from my master yet?"

Malsept shrugged carefully under his armor, "Apparently he left the space port with a Herdling. They're trying to track him down now."

Maldecka willed herself to breath, "What's a Herdling? Did it hurt him?"

Malsept glanced up at the still bickering negotiators, "Big brutes. Good drinking buddies though. If he has hurt your master our Brothers will take care of him."

Maldecka wasn't sure what to say to that. A Jedi shouldn't take revenge after all. But she felt quite a bit of satisfaction that her master would be found and if injured, avenged.

Tilting her head Maldecka tried to spot the code Malsept seemed to think was there. Now that she was listening for it they weren't really talking about an asteroid the way one normally does.

Maldecka looked over at Malsept, "How did you spot the code?"

Malsept shifted his rifle strap, "Experience, little sister. And two years at a listening post on Nar Shaddar."

Maldecka grinned at him and shifted her attention back to the delegates and their fake negotiations. They seemed to have come to some consensus.

And then they struck.

___________________________

Zarro could see the hotel. He picked up his pace and started to reach out to the bond. Still nothing from Maldecka but there was....

Zarro had his lighsaber spinning in his hand before he even thought of it. He tripped Taar'lep and smoothly deflected the lazer bolts that had been aimed at them.

Zarro glared at the shocked soldiers above him. He was vaguely aware of screaming citizens and Taar'lep's string of profanity, but his main concern was the sudden streams of soldiers flocking to the hotel. They were pouring out of every tower and flying to every window of the hotel. All of the soldiers were screeching at each other in their native chirps and whistles.

Zarro dropped into a ready stance, "Taar'lep! What are they saying?"

Taar'lep tilted his head, "Capture...capture the jedi. Capture, do not kill the jedi. Do not kill the jedi. Jedi is small Zabrak female."

Zarro flexed his claws, "Come on!"

The two of them sprinted for the ground entrance of the Hotel. Several of the soldiers continued to take shots at them, simply alarmed by the glow of a light saber where they didn't expect one. Ducking under the overhang of the hotel entrance Zarro turned to guard their backs. Something had changed, all the soldiers were panicked and angry now, not just the enthusiastic rush of the first attack.

Taar'lep tugged on the doors, "Whiskers, we got a problem! They bolted the doors!"

Zarro glanced away from two rapidly approaching specks, "Step back."

Taar'lep barely got clear before Zarro smashed through the doors with the force. He strode through the doors lightsaber held at his side.

Some small part of Zarro's mind chided him that he was being over dramatic. But it had the desired effect. The soldiers were fluttering everywhere to get away from him, and any return fire was sporadic and unorganized.

Taar'lep peered around the ragged edges of the door, "They're trying to decide if you're the jedi they were told to capture."

Zarro grinned, well aware it would display his fangs. Then he flexed his claws. Every eye in the lobby was now trained on him. "Now that I have your attention, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. All I want is the safe return of my Padawan."

One of the braver officers stood tall, claws clicking against the tile. With a quiet rustle she raised her wing and every rifle rose in response.

Taar'lep quietly cracked his knuckles, "Whiskers, when you said we'd be fighting, I imagined it would be more...hand to hand brawling...."

Zarro's ear flicked, he could hear something.

Just as the officer dropped her wing, two mandalorians raced inside on jetpacks firing indiscriminately into the ranks of soldiers.

Zarro glanced over at Taar'lep, "Friends of yours?"

Taar'lep tossed a chair at several soldiers who were shooting at their flying allies, "They are now!"

Zarro shook his head and pushed a group of soldiers out of the air with the force. Calmly he strode over to the officer who had rallied the troops, "Miss, I do not want to kill you or your troops. But I will if you continue to deter me from my Padawan."

The officer ruffled her feathers, and was about to snap back a reply when she tilted her head. Suddenly she let out two sharp whistles and every soldier in the lobby stopped fighting.

Zarro glanced around, fully aware he had not convinced her to stand down. He looked up the long vertical shaft at the core of the building. Somewhere up there was the conference room where the 'negotiations' were supposed to be, and hopefully, Maldecka.

Taar'lep quietly stepped up to Zarro's side, "So how do we find the little one?"

Zarro was about to reply when he was suddenly lifted from the ground by one of the jetpacking Mandalorians, "No worries Master Jedi! She's of the sunset tribe. Nobody wins against us for long."

Zarro would have replied but he had been completely winded by the unexpected tackle. And now they were rising up the tunnel, Taar'lep being lifted by the Mandalorian behind them.

Zarro was more than a little grateful to be dropped up on one of the uppermost floors. Looking around at the walls he was more than a little alarmed at all the battle damage.

"Master! I was so worried when Malsept said he couldn't find you at the airport! And the bond wasn't working! You are okay, right? Not hurt or kidnapped? Well, clearly you aren’t currently kidnapped..."

Turning, Zarro saw Maldecka sprinting over, large smile on her face and a massive Zabrak Mandalorian trailing after her.

Zarro ruffled Maldecka's hair and gave her a once over, "Me? It was you they were after! Are you alright Sunbeam?"

Maldecka nodded, "Oh yeah. They never even go close thanks to my brothers. That was why they called in all the troops but we repelled them too. Then I got the diplomats to sit down and give this scheme up."

Zarro glanced into the conference room where quite a few of the negotiators were looking absolutely humiliated.

Zarro turned back to Maldecka, "How did you find Mandalorians? and did you say they were your brothers?"

Maldecka waved at each of the Mandalorians in turn, rattling off names and then said something about going into a cantina and Zarro decided to just stop her. He really didn't think he wanted to know.

Unfortunately one of the Diplomats got up the courage to address them, "You ...do you have a permit to be in the city?"

Zarro felt a fleeting sting of sympathy when every eye in the area fell on the lone diplomat. But then it was gone under the weight of his exhaustion and stress.

Zarro instead waved cheerfully, "Gentlemen, rest assured that you will get the attention from the republic you wanted. This will be well documented and the Republic will be in touch."

With that he spun on his heel and jumped out into the vertical space, dropping all the way down to the lobby.

He couldn't help the grin when he felt Maldecka and the rest of their group follow suit without hesitation.

____________________________________

Maldecka was drifting off to sleep despite her best efforts.

She had spent hours talking with her brothers, just catching up on what they were up to in the years since they last met. Then Maldecka got to listen to Taar'lep tell funny stories about Knight Zarro and Master Orgus. She thought he was hilarious.

But now, she and Zarro were happily seated on a shuttle returning to the temple. But something was still bothering her.

"Master?"

"Hmmm?" Zarro was as close to sleep as she was.

"Why are you wearing a pink collar?"

Maldecka quietly worked on her history paper. She much preferred to be out on missions but sadly, being a padawan didn't get her out of school work. Thus she was holed up in the library trying to get ahead in her assignments.

Math was easy once it clicked. Maldecka was actually two levels ahead in Math for her age group! Unfortunately that didn't mean much to her professors since her history and basic grammar was a year behind for her age group.

That was why Zarro decided to stay at the temple for three months, so Maldecka could get all caught up in class. At least, that was the official reason.

Maldecka huffed at her computer screen. Writing about how Coruscate became a planet wide city was boring compared to what was going on with Master Zarro and Master Orgus right now.

Maldecka knew they both suspected something was wrong in the order. A mole or something. They wouldn't talk about it with her, though Orgus had her help him break into the records databanks a few weeks back.

Maldecka rocked back in the chair, history paper all but forgotten. It bothered her a lot that Master Zarro wouldn't tell her what he thought was going on. She wasn't a little kid anymore. She'd be twelve in four months after all.

Twelve and still writing at an age ten level, a dark part of her mind supplied.

Gritting her teeth Maldecka returned her attention to the history paper. It she could get it done maybe Master Sellanni would help Maldecka find the next Alderaan Solo book. And then she could try to pump Master Zarro for information about whatever was going on.

Maldecka was so engrossed in her effort to write she didn't notice a Council Member walk up.

She didn't even notice as he stood there for five minutes.

However, when he cleared his throat, that's when Maldecka noticed Master Mattiax.

____________________

Orgus was going a bit mad. Zarro certainly wasn't helping. They both knew somewhere in the order, something had go wrong. And now Maldecka had a target on her head.

When Orgus needed to get to the records he discovered that he was to big to reach the control panel to break in. That's why he had Mal help. Zarro was none to pleased with involving Maldecka in this but the data gleaned from the records proves that someone is deliberately mismatching Knights with missions.

It also proved that the corruption went a lot higher than Zarro or Orgus originally suspected. And then Zarro found the account of the break-in.

Hens the frantic search for wherever Maldecka hid herself away this afternoon. Zarro said the bond was very quiet and subdued, a typical response when Maldecka focused on subjects she didn't like. Unfortunately this also meant Zarro couldn't sense where she was nor tell her to get back to the apartment.

So Zarro was checking the temple grounds, and Orgus was searching the temple study rooms.

Orgus speed walked the library as quietly as possible. That was when he heard the voices.

"I know that you don't want to betray Master Orgus's trust. But you need to believe me, he's in danger, along with anyone else investigating this. That's why I need to know who all is involved."

Orgus froze, hoping he didn't hear what he just heard. Quietly he scaled a shelf of data chips and looked down on the scene from above.

Maldecka had her study materials spread all over a desk. Council Member Mattiax was calmly sitting across from her.

Orgus glared at Mattiax. It didn't look like he was threatening Maldecka. He even sat so he wasn't blocking the only way out of the nook, a deliberate choice by the looks of it.

Maldecka sat with the forced stillness of someone who doesn't know what to do.

Mattiax offered a rare smile on his stern face, "You're going to be an excellent knight someday. Don't worry Padawan Maldecka. I will simply ask Orgus now that he's arrived."

Orgus watched Maldecka look all around trying to spot Orgus. Mattiax simply looked up to where Orgus was perched on the top of the shelf units.

Orgus leapt down quietly, deciding it would be foolish to keep playing possum. "Alright, here I am. So when did it become council policy to interrogate Padawans?"

Mattiax frowned, "When something rotten slipped into the Jedi Order. You're lucky I spotted that little stunt with the records before anyone else did, but I need to know who else is involved."

Orgus offered a frown right back, "For all we know you're the one sending knights on doomed missions."

Mattiax stood to his not unimpressive height, "I will not let Jedi die because of past differences between us. Read my mind. I am loyal to the Jedi Order and I want to eliminate this rot wherever it is."

Orgus hesitated, but reached out with the Force. Master Mattiax had lowered all his defenses, exposing his soul to Orgus. Seeing all he needed to Orgus stepped back to physically communicate that he understood.

Mattiax shifted slightly as he put his shields back up around his mind, "Do you understand now?"

Orgus idly ruffled Maldecka's hair. She was spilling confusion and curiosity everywhere.

Orgus looked back up at Mattiax, "You can't do this alone."

"I must."

Orgus shook his head, "No, you'll die and then what? Who has the authority to seek out this rot you describe at all levels?"

Mattiax was silent as he narrowed his eyes at Orgus.

Orgus held out his hand as he lowered his own shields, "Take a look. You can trust me. I can do the legwork, you can see the big picture. But we need to protect the Order."

Mattiax eyed Orgus, but did not reach out with the force.

Then Mattiax shook Orgus's hand, "I don't need to look. Whatever your faults you are a sincere man."

Maldecka picked this moment to speak up, "You do know it will be weird for you to suddenly be friendly to each other, right?"

Orgus was momentarily torn between slapping himself for not thinking about that and praising Maldecka for being observant.

Mattiax scratched his chin, "I believe I can create appropriate cover without drawing suspicion. Well spotted Padawan Maldecka."

Orgus knelt down beside the chair Maldecka sat in, "You understand that you can't tell anyone about this Mal."

Maldecka looked at Orgus with eyes far too trusting, "Not even Master Zarro?"

Orgus felt his gut clench, there would be no going back on this path, and who knows how far down it would lead. He didn’t want Maldecka or Zarro anywhere near such danger. "Not even Zarro. Understand?"

Maldecka frowned and glanced between Orgus and Mattiax. For a second Orgus thought she would say no.

Maldecka bowed her head, "I trust you Master Orgus. I'll stay quiet."

Orgus impulsively kissed the top of her head, "Good. Go back home and tell Zarro where you are. I suspect we won't see each other for a while."

Spinning on his heel before Maldecka could respond, Orgus walked out of the nook. He wouldn't look back, he would not bring his family along on the long road he just choose. It is best that Zarro and Maldecka aren’t involved.

______________

Maldecka watched as Master Orgus walked out of the nook. Something was terribly wrong and the Force was blustering around trying to account for it. Hesitantly Maldecka looked up at Council Member Mattiax.

He looked down at her as if he had something to say.

Maldecka quietly waited and he left without saying a word.

She gathered her materials and send a comm to Master Zarro.

By the time she arrived at the apartment, Master Zarro had received a list of missions. They wouldn't be back at the temple for at least a year.

They got word halfway into their first mission that Master Orgus would be appointed assistant to Council Member Mattiax. Master Zarro was shocked. Maldecka was unsurprised.

@Lady-Jean: Welcome back.

#22: Pink kitty collar? Orgus may pay for it eventually, but it is not this day. Convenient, yet amusing, having Mandalorians looming over the squarking aqualine usurpers

#23: A mole in the Jedi Order? interesting premise, would like to see more. Also, despite their differences in personality, Mattiax and Orgus were able to trust each other enough to work together.

The Nexus Room was a soulless-grey building near the main entrance to the citadel. That alone was reason enough to avoid it. I want nothing more to do with the Sith than I absolutely had to. Unfortunately, that’s where my info placed Lady Dak-ah and her *ahem* ‘brother’. I also needed somewhere to sit and hash out a job interview with Mako. Yeah, the kid had told me about the Jedi and her little mind trick; that Mako had been forced into saying what she had. He was wrong.

I’ve seen Jedi mind tricks before, been on the receiving end of one too. They can make you do and say things sure, but you have this vapid expression and toneless voice while you do it. Mako had said everything with passion, anger even. She meant the words, even if the Jedi had forced her thoughts and actions. She believed I was a psychopath, after everything I’d done on the Brentaal Star: stupid ignorant human brat. Still, it’s not as if I can tell her. I breathed my discontent through my nose and stalked into the Nexus room.

The entry hall was long, thin and was inordinately bright. If I had to guess, the light covered an array of sensors and scanners. All the better to know who their clientele was, and prepare appropriately. On our way up the ramp, we passed a gold and brown furred Cathar in Sith robes, followed by some hulking white monster. He ignored us as he sauntered by. The thing looming behind him leered menacingly at us, though that might just be that ugly. I watched them go, and then glanced at Mako. Her tanned skin looked ashen; although that might be from the mud.

“Last chance to back out,” I offered half-heartedly. It’s not that I didn’t want her with me - I’d need a second pair of eyes whenever I went into a combat zone - but she needed to know that this was entirely her call. She couldn’t whine that she had no choice later on. Her eyes flicked to mine, and I saw the malleable steel in them. She wasn’t sure she wanted in, but she definitely didn’t want to be alone here either. Great: better decide one way or the other real quick. I stepped through the doorway and felt my eyes widen. Mako didn’t bother to hide her openly gawping expression.

The room beyond was large, at least two stories though I couldn’t be any more specific. I only knew that much because we walked in on the second floor. Much else was lost, shrouded in darkness that the lights just didn’t cover. In front of us, two holo-emitters displayed hanging twi’lek programs on either side of a staircase. Running lights in the raises gave just enough light to show where one step ended and the next began. Slowly, I advanced, the darkness enveloping me as I descended into this pit the Sith called a bar.

At the bottom, I saw a walkway stretch out in front of me, leading to a… sculptured light fitting, I guess. It was a large inverted square pyramid made from durasteel bars, with magcon fields forming the faces and revealing a white-blue plasma ball inside. Even the miniature sun’s light was sapped by the all-encompassing darkness, for it only gave paltry illumination of the surrounding walkways. They spread out in a cross, one back up out of the bar, the others leading further into the darkness.

At the centre of the crossroads, there was a raised railing around the point of the pyramid, which came down to about my chest. There was space enough at the bottom for someone lying flat to lie beneath, not that anyone would want to. There had to be a gap in the fields at the bottom, as a rush of uncomfortably warm air billowed from the base.

Quiet whimpering filtered through the hubbub, a sound that set my teeth on edge. Cages hung from where the pyramid met the ceiling, tall, thin and occupied. Each one had a slave in, wearing collars and just enough to avoid scandal. The slaves danced lifelessly, nervously, but their actions weren’t why they were there. I noticed a button and dial on the railing beside each cage: the controls to their shock collars. Alone, helpless, unable to see or do anything but accept the pain whenever someone wished it on them, they reeked of fear.

I glanced left and right and saw largely the same thing either side. Faint lines of white light run in the raises of the recessed wells surrounding the pyramid, marking out the edges of the walkways. Inside the wells were a few small circular tables, with stools for seating. Beyond, there were alcoves cast in dim red light and possibly a screen of some kind, separating the booths within from the general bar. There were two on each side, astride the walkway, which vanished through a doorway into another part of the building.

I moved slowly, warily watching everyone in the room. Simply because it was too dark to see didn’t mean I couldn’t tell where they were: Chiss can see heat. It wouldn’t help me with the stairs or footwells, but I could tell if we were under attack. Mako didn’t even have that luxury. She stuck close, her hand tightly gripping mine as a small child would. Stop: reconsider that imagery. Mako is a prospective partner. She isn’t a child, as far as I can tell. Considering her as anything but a green but willing partner is unhelpful.

There were no booths free: figures. Instead, I walked us up to the only remaining table, on the edge of the central platform, and motioned her to sit down. It was slightly sticky but that didn’t matter. Mako and I had just come from a slave camp deep in the humid jungle swamps: so were we.

Away from the bright ambient light of the hall, my eyes slowly adjusted to the near darkness. I could make out a few more shadowy figures in the recessed booths, and the bartender. The sun’s white-blue light glinted off malevolent looking pipes and tubes looming behind the bar. Well, I suppose we should start here. I gestured at Mako. She ignored-, no, she didn’t see me. Reaching over, I tapped her shoulder. She twitched, tensed up and let out a little squeak. Damn, she was terrified and yet had followed me in anyway.

“I’m getting a drink; you want anything before we start?” Her head darted around the area, eyes wide and pleading. She closed them, breathed in, out and opened them again.

“Lacasa, if they have it,” she answered and I suppressed a wince. Oh, I’m almost certain they’ll stock it. The stuff is almost as prevalent as water: it’s also vile.

“Back in a minute, use the time to come up with your partnership proposal,” I commanded, hauling myself back up to my feet. Repulsorlift taking the brunt of my armour’s weight or not, my feet ached from walking back from the slave camp. Still, Mako had barely complained about all this, so I wasn’t going to let her see me whimper from the dozens of blisters I must have by now: stupid, poorly fitting boots.

Padding over to the bar, I nodded to the bartender, a man so thick I doubted I’d have enough carbonite spray to freeze half of him. He glowered back, his meat slabs for arms crossed in disapproval. He watched me steadily, saying nothing and offering even less.

Despite Chiss aid rendered to the nascent empire during its long exodus and the only worthy allies of the empire, we were still seen as dirty aliens: especially rich given the Imperial throneworld was a muddy swamp without proper roads. At least, there were exchange programs with Intelligence and the Nuruodo and Sabosen families. They’ll have someone able to drag the planet up to the standards expected from Chiss allies, kicking and screaming if necessary.

A human male in a black military uniform with red trim sank into the stool right beside me, despite several others available either side. Great, just what I needed: some officer who fancied himself something ‘exotic’ this evening.

“We don’t serve-,” Piggy the bartender finally began, and I could see my exit already. His refusal was my invitation to get up and walk off, ignoring the Imperial as if I hadn’t seen him. I have no qualms about outright shooting the human down and stalking back to the table empty-handed but an officer in the military could make things difficult for me for as long as I’m in Imperial space. That could be some time, depending how the Great Hunt went.

“You’ll make an exception for Intelligence personnel,” he interrupted, his voice liquid silk, flashing an open Sleen-leather wallet at the bartender. Piggy’s bushes crawled up his wrinkled head. Damn. Okay, now I looked at my erstwhile ‘white-knight’. Oh, it’s him.

Cipher Nine sat on the stool beside me, having ditched the grey overcoat for a uniform that showed off his tight body and pert-, the pistol strapped to his leg. I did not need this right now. He was a threat, a deadly risk who could and would vanish me as easily as ordering a drink. I didn’t need any distractions from those form-fitting pants. I noted him glance at me and nod his head towards the bar. The bartender stood, sullenly awaiting my order.

I glanced back at the table and Mako was still there. I’d half expected her to run the moment she got out of my sight but it looks like she hadn’t. Good, I didn’t want to have to go through the hunt without a crew, even if it’s a crew of one. I turned back to piggy and the spy.

“Two bottles, one Lacasa, the other water: both un-opened,” I ordered, emphasising the last part. I’ve been to more than my share of seedy dives in the galaxy and while this place catered for a more upscale market, their attitude towards me wasn’t all that different. They may prefer it if I was away from public view before passing out from the effects of Flunitrazepam, but few in here would notice, and no one would care. He might even believe the agent would appreciate him drugging us, and may possibly be right. Previous words and intentions aside, he might want payback for his partner.

The bartender glowered, but obeyed, and soon there were two clari-crystalline bottles of sparklingly clear fluids slammed in front of me. So much for being gracious in defeat: if I hadn’t seen him pour them out, I’d be sure he had ‘interfered’ with them.

“Ms Zul, we meet again,” the Cipher mused in way of greeting. He fixed me with a warm smile that didn’t entirely reach his eyes. Oh, he had everything down perfectly, all charming and suave, but I’m not some dumb teenager who’d fall for that.

“Cipher,” I nodded tersely. Just because you got a drink for me doesn’t mean I’m going to melt into your arms. I’m not some naïve, love-starved teenager anymore, “Is this a social call or something more official?”

“The latter,” he admitted. I should’ve known kicking his associate off a cliff wasn’t the brightest idea, even if it was safer than threatening or killing her. Trouble was I didn’t have a lot of options at the time. Still don’t, for that matter. I deliberately didn’t go for my blaster or roast him. It wouldn’t help. Besides, he made no move for his weapons. No, someone else would kill me, and they’d probably start from behind me.

“I wish to retain your services for an upcoming mission.” I’d half-droned out his words with my surreptitious search, but that hauled my attention back to him.

“What’s the job,” I asked, keeping my options open. It didn’t make much sense to antagonise my only contact with Imperial intelligence. Intelligence’s money was good, even if the work wasn’t glamorous, or disclosable. For an upcoming hunter looking to make a name, that’s a big problem. Still I’d rather they regarded me as useful than unwanted.

The Chiss in the organisation may have an issue with an ‘anon on the books, but I’d rather their superiors rein them in because I do good work than let them purge the filth from the planet. ‘Anon are worse than untouchables in Chiss society, they are criminals and exiles, the scum other Chiss don’t want around.

“It’s a matter of planetary security and that’s about as much general information as I can divulge.” That didn’t fill me with confidence in his sincerity. You could claim anything as a matter of planetary security, “Needless to say, it will involve us infiltrating a heavily defended compound, neutralising opponents and exfiltrating the compound.” Okay, that was more like it.

“It sounds interesting; but I can’t promise you exclusivity. I’m still in the Great Hunt and my first priority has to be getting through their trials.” I explained, half expecting him to smile, nod and walk away. There were plenty of bounty hunters on Dromund Kaas: while I’m not in the bottom quartile for competence, I wasn’t in the top either. He nodded in understanding and smiled a knowing smirk. That’s not good.

“I thought as much but didn’t want to assume. Conveniently for the both of us, your next hunt is for Admiral Fraabaal, whose career rests on quietly eliminating his Sith daughter. Said daughter works in the same compound I am interested in.” Taking down a Sith might get my name out there. Of course, getting my name on the empire’s most wanted list wouldn’t help my reputation. They seem to get a little twitchy about anyone else killing Sith. Still, if Intelligence knows and isn’t trying to stop me, then perhaps they have an interest in protecting the admiral; or silencing the Sith.

“And you know this because?” he chuckled, a dry sound that tickled the back of my neck. Great, so either he sliced into the enclave or Intelligence had an informant in the Hunt organisers. Both were equally likely, and neither gave me any useful insights.

“Right, and how long will this job last?”

“Should only be a few days. My associate should be out of Kolto by then. Of course, I cannot guarantee she won’t try to murder you, but she won’t be able to call in Intelligence assets if you are on the books, as it were.” I watched him, steadily recognising just how outmanoeuvred I was.

His partner was Ratattaki: she would want revenge. Just like the Chiss in Intelligence, her superiors would either rein her in or let her take what she felt due. He watched me think, a slow languid smile stretching across his face. I know when I’m in a corner, there’s no need to be smug about it. I nodded to him, not saying anything. He got my meaning well enough.

“Care to celebrate our new partnership?” He asked, motioning his head towards the bartender. The man had waddled off, serving something fruity to a robed woman with a face-concealing mask and hood.

“I’ll need to talk it over with my partner before I commit to anything,” I rebuffed, almost thankful for the excuse. It may affect our working relationship, but so would letting him know that I’m a two-drink drunk and not a pretty one either.

“Of course,” he admitted, nodding at the almost forgotten bottles on the bar, “Your associate must be getting concerned, what with you being away for so long.” I glanced back at Mako, still sitting hunched over the table. Reaching into my pocket, I drew out my holocomm. I’d need his frequency, even if it was only a burner. Clients you cannot liaise with are difficult at best, and that assumes good faith.

“You have some way for me to contact-,” I started, and then realised I was talking to no one. The cipher was gone, leaving no trace but a single cred piece spinning on the bar. Scanning the area, I didn’t see him, not that I expected to. Still, ignoring the comings and goings of agents is a dangerous habit to get into. I picked up the two bottles from the bar and headed back to the table.

She flinched as I set the bottles down on the table, eyes enormous and expressive. I ignored the fear evident in them: it was a natural response. She was human, without the ability to see heat or use the force. This place was rightfully terrifying, given its nature and clientele. She took the Lacasa bottle in both hands, vaguely reminiscent of a fruit bat with a grape.

Gently, I reached over and used the ridge on the underside of my gauntlet to pop the cap off and she downed the 500-millilitre entire bottle in one go. I felt my mouth drop open as I watched with fascinated revulsion. Lacasa is incredibly sugary, almost to the point of being syrup. I gagged the first time I had even a sip, and could taste it for days afterwards. Even now, the sickeningly sweet aftertaste haunts me sometimes. How she could stomach any more than that is beyond me.

“Sorry, but I needed that,” she explained, her eyes moistening. I watched and waited patiently, as calmly as our surroundings allowed. The ability to stomach sticky fluids is not relevant for a job interview, despite what some vids would have you believe. She coughed, closed her eyes and took a steadying breath before opening them again. There was a steel in them I hadn’t seen before. Good, she’ll need something like that if she hopes to survive in this career.

“All right, here’s my proposal, I work for you as a slicer, agent and junior partner, under Republic regulations with on-job training and 25 days of paid vacation a year. In exchange, I receive board, sustenance and am paid 5% of whatever we bring in, dependent upon being part of said hunt.”

I cracked open my bottle and swiped a swig as she spoke. Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, I was glad that humans couldn’t read Chiss facial expressions. For what she’s offering, she’s not asking for much. I’d half expected I’d have to haggle her down, but I suspect Braden’s influence kept her pretty level. He must’ve hired on junior hunters as he got older, and she must’ve sat in or watched the interviews.

“Paid by percentage, not a fixed salary?” I mused. Early on, that wouldn’t mean much, and would exempt her from the minimum wage laws of the Republic, but could get costly later on. It also encouraged her to keep an eye out for high paying jobs. There’s no better motivation than greed.

“Yeah, consider it an incentive to keep us stocked with good jobs,” she reasoned, a wry smile on her face: she knew that too.

“All right, the proposal’s good. Now a test,” Her eyes narrowed, preparing to do whatever I asked, within reason. I nodded to the mostly ignored holoviewers beside the entrance, “Put on the news.” Her eyes flashed wide for barely a second. Yeah, I know, but not all jobs are breaking into impenetrable fortresses. Sometimes it is as simple as getting in through the wifi.

She closed her eyes, finger flicking up to the cybernetics over her temple and both of the dancing twi’lek programs up by the entrance disintegrated into blue motes of light. The particles shifted and danced in the air, swiftly reforming into a stern looking human dark haired man in uniform on one and a pretty, young fair-haired human woman on the other. The man started newscasting although the holoviewers didn’t have speakers to vocalise his report.

“All right, we got all this sorted out? Nothing else you want to ask for,” I asked as the newscasters flickered back into dancers.

“Don’t suppose we got a health plan?” Mako asked hopefully. I am a fully qualified pharmacist, from a culture where that means something, and I could get a surgical droid when there’s capital spare.

“Inclusive: Ready to go to work?” Her eyes sparkled with something but I’m not too sure what, triumphant hope maybe.

“Sure, where are we going?” It was almost painful, the unburnished hope in those puppy-dog eyes. She was young, talented and painfully naïve. Any other situation, I’d have told her to get out of the business and go home. The only problem was that she didn’t have a home, not anymore. She was in this just as much as I was, not because of the money: it was never about the money. She had nowhere else to go either.

Maybe that’s why I took her back, maybe it’s not, but right now, I had a team. I allowed a warm smile to stretch my face and jerked a thumb towards the function room on the far side of the bar. Mako gave me a hesitant, almost questioning look. What, you think I would choose to go in a place like this for any other reason?

Zul killed the throttle of the speeder and we coasted down towards our new client, the Cipher. He glanced up from his holo-display, a modified probe droid hovering beside him and patiently providing the holograms. Spying us, he flicked a hand across the hologram, banishing it from view. With a languid grace, he rose from his seat in the little lean-to tent and waved us down. Again, he wore the dull-grey raincoat but with a hood added to the ensemble. Guess the rain in the slave camp didn’t qualify as worth covering up for.

The speeder hummed quietly. We’d borrowed it from Crysta, a blocky brown-grey Tirsa model with lots of room in the back for carbonite storage. The seats weren’t anything to write home about and it smelt like armour grease and sweat, but it was almost free and that’s what counted. Hauling myself over the lip of the speeder, I walked past his cubic Czerka Patroller, currently folded down into its ‘off mode’. They always weirded me out a little, how could anyone trust a collapsible speeder. What stopped it from folding down in mid-air if you kicked the collapse button by accident?

“Up ahead is the fortress of the Sith Lord Grathan, who-,” the agent began, padding towards us. You know, I wouldn’t have believed it without seeing for myself, but he really was silent in those shoes: as in not even a little squelch or slurp or anything.

“fell out with Darth Mekhis, declared he was out of the tech pyramid and now the army besieges his fortress. We know the general situation, get with the specifics,” Zul interrupted as she powered down the speeder, a sour note in her voice. I know he manipulated her into being here but wow. Could we have a little professionalism here, please? I don’t want the agent deciding to dissolve the partnership, and us, because youre upset. The Cipher watched us for a long moment, his eyes hidden behind those full-moon cybernetics.

“You’re up to speed then, good: I haven’t gotten a look into the buildings from here, but the plans show that most have sub-basements. It’s not too much of a stretch to consider an undocumented underground transport network.” The agent continued, his Kaas accent slightly brittle.

“Caves and tunnels, great,” Zul mused without enthusiasm, “Is it possible they have underground escape routes?”

“Hold on, repurposing a satellite to give us…,” he paused, flicking his right hand through complex little gestures over his left forearm, an augmented-reality haptic interface, I assume. All right, I’m a bit impressed. There’s no way I could slice defence satellites, Getting a signal into space strong enough to interface with a satellite requires either linking up with the planetary grid, or a signal booster: actually no, only the booster. Unlike everywhere in Hutt space, Kaas doesn’t have a planetary grid

“There we are.” He finished, sedate triumph lolling in his voice. The droid beeped and hovered out from under the lean-to. Blue lights flickered from a triangle on its base as a blurry hologram formed beneath it. The image slowly resolved itself into a 3d map, showing the four buildings surrounded by two walls and raised up on its own little plateau. Tiny figures of men and droids milled about, some in organised recognisable patrol routes, others randomly going about their day. Okay, Optics: initiate point count in squares Isk-25 to Trill 60. Point equals humanoid form.

“This in real-time?” Zul asked as red flickered over every human shape on the map. Actually, that’s a good point. Counting the guards was pointless if the data was from last week. The agent raised two fingers to his ear, or the cochlear implant in it.

“Minus a few minutes, yes,” he answered after a moment, and even with my audio enhancer turned all the way up, I couldn’t hear whoever’s on the other end: not a cochlear implant then. They create a tiny noise but close to the ear so the wearer could hear the other end.

“Triple layer of defences, all concentric and surrounded by a ravine to the North, swamps to the East and mountains to the South and West. I’m willing to bet they have some nasty AA guns somewhere, to stop people like us from flying in over the cliffs and artillery in case we tried it on foot,” she noted,

“Two AA guns beside the main compound entrance, as is an artillery gun and seven turrets guarding the main road inside. Also, there are four layers: the army is unaware of our activities and will assume we are hostile.”

“Any reason we can’t give involve them in this?” Zul asked.

“If I could, I would not require your services,” the agent remarked ad I felt a little icy tingle in my lower back. What’s your count?” Whatever he was doing, Intelligence didn’t want the army knowing. Maybe this was normal, maybe it wasn’t; we were about to get involved in something way bigger than either of us. Yeah, I don’t believe that Intelligence won’t kill us if we become inconvenient. Stars, I’m becoming more paranoid than Zul. It’s this place, this whole planet. There’s something beyond the twilight and rain haze is setting me on edge. One hundred and nine, wait, what: Oh, the point-count.

I tried to catch Zul’s eye but if she noticed, she didn’t make a sign. I coughed and held my hand up to get their attention. The agent eyed me and smiled a condescending little smirk: Jerk.

“Uh, so there are one hundred and nine guards, of which about a fifth are droids.” I relayed, the numbers from the point count flicking up in my head. The agent’s eyebrows rose enough to be visible over his full-moon lenses.

“Any chance we can remotely slice them, meddle with their IFF codes and exploit the havoc to sneak in?” the agent asked, viewing me with a level gaze.

“Most people keep their droids in autistic mode when not undergoing maintenance, so people can’t hijack them,” I answered off the top of my head, but pursed my lips. It hadn’t occurred to me to try. Sure, everyone who understands anything about security keeps droid defenders in Autistic mode, but that was on Nar Shaddaa.

Hutt space had way more lenient system regarding ownership than the rest of the galaxy. Basically, if it didn’t belong to a Hutt, it was fair game, so everyone was looking for an edge or quick cash grab. As such it was an ever evolving arms race between legitimate cybersecurity and net-space thieves, not that there was any real distinction between the two. You could be protecting someone from DDOS attacks one day, and slicing their rival’s bank account the next. From what I’ve seen of the empire, the criminals here were in power and they used the system instead of subverted it. Maybe they were capable enough to fending off Nar Shaddaa tech-rats, but I doubted it.

Access holonet: No response. Huh, that’s new. I never get no signal even out in the swamps of Hutta. Except I’m thinking we’re still in Hutt space. There’s no interplanetary grid here, remember: the storms chew the signals up. It’s all network towers and tight-band satellite broadcast. Okay, receiver: ping nearest signal tower. There wasn’t a tower in three miles. Then how did Grathan get the holonet into his base? My eyes fell on the large transmitters on the roof of every building.

“It’s possible Grathans forces don’t, but I’d need to be a lot closer to find that out.”

“Okay, that’s a possible plan, but we’ll need something more concrete in case it doesn’t work,” Zul rebuffed, pouring over the plans. Wow, I’m standing right here: why not just say you don’t think I can do it to my face, huh? “Don’t suppose you can repurpose an orbital defence satellite and blast a hole in his defences on the far side of where we get in?” He shook his head. Ha, see your plans aren’t so great either.

“Shield generators found here,” he pointed to a tall building near the middle and another behind the main building, “and here: military-grade. Besides, it sets a bad precedent for the army to shell a Sith Lord, rogue though he may be.” Huh, but if he’s rogue, then wouldn’t they want him brought down? Zul nodded in understanding. He’s a rogue Sith lord, but a Sith lord nonetheless. If he re-joins the rest, he might want revenge and the army doesn’t serve any one Darth. No-one would protect them unless it was part of a bigger play, son they had to cover their @sses.

“Don’t suppose we could come in over the swamps and scale the cliff?” I offered,

“Possible, most commanders would deforest the area adjacent to their base. They haven’t so they might not expect a threat to come from that way.” Zul reinforced, turning the model to better see the eastern swamp. A hundred and eleven, huh? Oh, I hadn’t turned off the point count. Optics: disengage... actually, no. Optics: highlight new points. Two points I hadn’t noticed before moved across the bridge, one a couple dozen metres ahead of the other. Looks like the army finally sent someone in.

“Or they may have mined it or magnetic sensors to pick up speeders for their artillery to pick us off at their leisure.” The first of the two points disappeared. A hundred and ten: looks like they had a marksman on the bridge. A hundred and nine: there goes the other one. I turned back to the discussion, wondering when to mention the failed assault. It was important as they would be more alert now.

“They would both leave gaps in the canopy where a mine has blown up some wandering creature or the artillery has shelled a metal fragment floating downstream.” A hundred and eight, what? I glanced back at the bridge, and saw the new figure was still there still highlighted and still moving closer to the bridge. Two figures were on the ramparts, one still highlighted. It winked out and the other one became highlighted. That shouldn’t be happening, is there a glitch in my optical software? Optics: disengage point count.

“Uh guys, something’s going down at the bridge,” I warned, turning away from the map.

Red and golds flashed at the inner gate. While we’d been plotting and planning, someone had attacked the compound. Darting up to the cliff edge, I pressed my stomach against the cold wet rock. Even if they were distracted by the battle, all it would take is one artillery gunner to spot me gawping at the cliff edge to blast all three of us. The agent lay down in the mud beside me, rifle in hand.

Optics: magnify Morn-25 by 3,000%. My left eye blurred as the cybernetic filters in my sclera shifted into place, and zoomed in. The human eye is a remarkable thing, able to adapt to a huge array of changes. Even now, mine was refocussing and sharpening a blurry sight from picture image taken from fifteen kilometres away as if I was a few metres away. To my right, I heard Cipher Nine start a slow and heady chuckle, that blossomed out into a full rich laugh. He had to be using the scope on his rifle. The picture cleared and I could get why he burst out laughing.

The outer gatehouse was down, with two small red beams blurring and dancing across the battlements. Gold and green pulses flicked across, ricocheting from… oh. Roan, the Sith boy from the Black Talon, was up on the inner ramparts, red blade sweeping through a red-and-purple-black garbed man. Vette, his twi’lek friend, darted from cover to cover, picking off distracted guards and droids with practiced ease.

A huge, dark-skinned man with a purple lightsaber leapt at Roan, saber bearing down on the boy. He hopped to the side and struck back, a whipping stab that the larger Sith caught on his blade. A quiet ‘pwshwaw’ reverberated around us. They locked like that, the larger Sith slowly overbearing the boy, until his neck evaporated. Free from the downwards force, Roan surged up throwing the other Sith’s lightsaber aside even as the falling head smacked his forehead.

“So much for a stealthy approach,” the agent mused wryly, “Come on, we’re following him in.”

There were four people, and a barrel of cold stuff. I grabbed it and smashed it against the computer behind them. It went boom and everybody screamed as cold splashed them. I leapt in: slash, slashy-slash and they’re all dead. A guy came running down the stairs. I leap, my blade goes through his blaster, pirouette and through his tummy. I glance around. Vette’s darting for the ramp, she wants cover in case they more come. Weird-looking droids line the walls. Wait, these aren’t droids, they have force signatures.

“Uh, you might want to come have a look at this…”

“Well, this was certainly interesting. the Jedi had been helping out the SIS on some Czerka project with Qyzen. Now that there was less to clobber and more to consider, she called upon my pre-eminent expertise. Apparently, they uncovered some exo-tech with the potential to regrow bone and tissue at an exceptional rate. Just imagine the possibilities this Exo-tech could reveal if studied by a genius of my calibre-.”

“Tharan dear, you’re monologuing again.”

“Hmmn, ah yes, of course. Now, where did the Jedi wish to meet?

“It’s programmed into the nav.”

“Holiday, where would I be without you?”

“Lost?”

How could she? Of all the irresponsible, lack-witted things she could have managed, this has to be the worst. There’s a reason the Imperial Film Classification Board certified that film as Adult Only. She wasn’t the one crying herself to sleep afterwards.

I saw it unfold in my mind. As she swaggers past, I draw my pistol and evaporate the back of her sub-human skull. No, eliminating her would guarantee my own execution at the hands of my charge. Our lord won’t intervene. Still, perhaps I can find ways to break her hold over him and then have her removed.

@Alaurin- Yeah, I feel like intra-Council romance is a bad idea (at least in public) for a number of reasons. In fact, any public Sith romance and half the private ones are a bad idea. Glad they're both on board with the secret idea, it shows they're pretty sensible and mature about it. Poor Rhianna! Makes my heart ache thinking about all the stuff she went through (especially since I have a friend with the same name)

@Feldraeth- RE: A Quiet Night In- Love the simile with Vette's favorite socks. I totally relate to her actually doing more work to avoid having to get up, too. Nice little slice-of-life on the Warrior's ship. I kind of see Vette as one of what my family called the Disneyland Aunts, that aunt who doesn't have any kids of her own and likes to spoil you instead. Not rich necessarily, just the kind of person who lets you stay up late and watch movies and takes out out to eat at your favorite restaurants (I had three of them, my mother had two). Very unique take, and I like it!

RE: Epilogue- I always wondered what the aftermath of the flashpoints is for other characters besides our own. I'm glad to see the general survived this run at least. I always liked him. Intriguing! Also like your Satele. I've never really been able to get a good sense of her character.

RE: Partnerships- That's an even darker take on the cage dancers we see in the Nexus room! Lol at the reference to the agent's pants. I don't know why medium armor seems to entirely consist of tights (actually I do, it's massively easier to animate), but it makes me question whether everyone is wearing dancer's belts constantly. Also like the fact that Mako and the hunter actually take time to formalize their relationship.

RE: Best-laid Plans- I have no idea how plausible their tactical discussion is here, but it was interesting, and that's what counts! And I'd advise the team to enjoy it while it lasts. It's not every day you get the way cleared for you plus a major distraction and handy excuse for anything killed, broken, or missing!

RE: The Shorts- The Tharan one was my favorite Also, how on earth is Superman "Adult only?" I mean, I haven't seen it in a while, but...

@LadyJean- I haven't read the rest of your Maldeka the Kid stories, so I'll have to get back to you when I've finished them.

She's doing it again.

Slender fingers trace across old wounds long since healed, but never forgotten. It started off subtle at first. In the middle of a conversation her eyes would lose focus and I just assumed she'd gotten bored in whatever topic we were on. It wouldn't have been the first time. But as time went on and our excursions across the galaxy became more frequent, so did that lost look in her eyes.

I'm no lunk headed pirate, although that may be her favorite nickname for me. It wasn't long before I realized what it was that caught her attention.

Scars. Those beautiful scars that trace her face so elegantly on skin the color of warm bantha milk. The stark contrast of her eyes, the color of her favorite red wine burn with such passion even in moments like this that it's hard to understand why she thinks otherwise.

These thoughts never cross her face in public though. She is Sith after all. One more reason I call those scars beautiful. They're not something to be hidden and ashamed of. They're a testament to her strength. Her determination to prove those naysayers they were wrong. They said she wouldn't survive. Yet here she is. Save for that so called Emperor what's his name, she holds all their lives in the palm of her hand. Ironic, isn't it?

But, you've heard me jabber long enough. It's time I broke her out of that train of thought again.

*sound of shuffling feet on metal floor*

"Hey, Sith. Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"

I got this idea when I decided to roll my sorcerer as a Twi'lek with the scars that looked like they were burned with an animal bridle. She's not entirely dark side, at least not at this point. I may decide to have her go darker in KOTFE when she loses him after 5 years.

For a few long minutes, nothing happened, and Ketturah wondered if she would have to try another way to get to Shar Noland. Which would, of course, be ten times harder now that he knew she was here and was apparently suspicious of her. That, or he wasn’t home, but what kind of person camped out in a backwater hideaway from Hutt bounty hunters just headed out shopping?

But no, now she heard a noise from inside the house and a moment later, the door opened a crack. “What do you want?” said a gruff male voice.

“I got lost trying to walk to town,” replied Ketturah, trying to sound as pathetic as possible. “It’s been a day and a half and I haven’t had anything to eat and I’m so tired…”

“Wait here.” The door shut and Ketturah remained on the doorstep. The urge to reach for her weapons was overwhelming, but he probably had cameras somewhere. If he got even a hint something was wrong, he might not come out at all, or the next time the door opened she might find a disruptor pistol in her face. So she just

waited uncomfortably for what felt like hours.

Finally, the door opened a bit wider and a thin hand reached out with a ration bar. “Here you go.”

It was all the chance she needed. Grabbing his wrist, she braced with her feet and pulled as she reached for a

blaster with the other hand. Dead-or-alive bounties really were easier.

He pulled back, stronger than she had expected, jerking her off her feet. Before she even really knew what she was doing, she was scrambling through the door before it slid shut. Nolend disappeared around a corner just as she pulled herself upright and brought her blaster to level.

“Firfeck,” she growled, and took off after him. The room itself was dark, lit only by a single window high in the wall, and filled with junk. Ketturah paused to check for an ambush before rounding the corner, but her target had already made it deeper into the house.

The place was much bigger than it looked from the outside, she realized. Somehow, the unimpressive building had a whole maze of hallways and weird rooms inside. She moved quickly through them, searching.

As she entered the first room, a solid thud shook the place and vibrated in her boots. It sounded like it was coming from below her. Where were the stairs in this place?

A few more minutes of searching lead her to what she was looking for: a full-on blast door in the middle of a house that said nothing so much as “hoarding grandparents”. She started towards them, only to scramble backwards as fast as she could.

With a mechanical whirr, the pair of autoturrets on either side of the door came to life and spat a stream of blaster fire. One grazed her leg and she stumbled. Diving behind a faded armchair, Ketturah tried to slow her breathing and ignore the throbbing burn that brought tears to her eyes and threatened to make her sob.

“OK, break time’s over,” she muttered, risking a glance. The turrets slowly rotated on their bases, searching for her. Visual targeting, then. Something fancier, or even manual, wouldn’t have lost her as soon as she ducked behind a flimsy barrier. Well, that would be easy, then. She fished around on the floor and seized the first thing she could get her hands on, a soft, damp pile of something that sent up a cloud of dust that made her want to sneeze.

Screwing up her face to avoid the noise that would bring, she tossed it across the gap between her hiding place and the next wall.

Like always, the automatic guns sprayed red plasma at the projectile, but as they turned away from her, Ketturah popped around the corner and unleashed a volley of her own. By the time the turret’s slow AI had noticed her, the first one was already out of commission and the second wasn’t far behind. She grinned. This was too easy. Her arm still hurt, but Shar Noland was almost in her hands.

A crash in the distance, then she heard the sound of some of the junk that filled most of the rooms falling over.

Was it just the breeze, or someone else in the house? She crouched still for a moment, listening over the sound of her own breathing. Nothing. Well, even if there was, she was wasting too much time here. And she could take on two just as easily as one, right?

Wincing as her arm brushed against the edge of the chair, she walked over to the door. Locked, of course. Trying her uninjured shoulder against it, she found it solid. The mess up here made more sense if Noland had spent his entire time here making this bolt-hole. But he obviously didn’t have as much tech savvy as he did time and dedication. The fasteners that held the door to the frame were already starting to strain. All it would take is a couple good hits from a grav-ram and it would pop out like long-lost relatives when an Alderaaninan noble died.

But she didn’t have a grav-ram, and she probably wasn’t strong enough to get it on her own. Not without hurting her other arm. Maybe if she could find something in all this mess that was heavy enough to hit it with-

Before her brain really registered the sound, she was already rolling into a crouch and training her pistol on whoever was coming up behind her. The figure raised his hands and a blaster rifle clattered to the floor. “Cato, what the hell?”

“You left without saying goodbye. Thought I’d catch up to wish you good luck.” He smiled warmly at her, then his expression hardened until it was deader than any she’d seen on some hunters twice his age. “Besides. I’m still on this bounty.” A quick motion, and something flashed in the air between them. Ketturah jumped out of the way, but found herself coughing as thick smoke billowed from the tiny capsule on the ground. “And if you don’t want to work with me, you’ll have to get out of my way.”

Something in the smoke was making her dizzy. She tried to grab something to keep her balance, but found herself sitting on her butt and trying desperately not to throw up. Black spots grew over her eyes in steady throbs. “I really wanted to work with you,” Cato’s voice continued. “And I had fun last night. But I want this too much to stand by and let you get it.”

As the darkness filled her vision and she fell backwards, she was dimly aware of Cato stepping over her and heading for the security door.

@Mirdthestrill: Disneyland Aunts. Amazing how you can sum up an appproximately fifty word paragraph into just two. Yeah, that concept is largely what I'm going for with her. As for the similie, well believe it or not but its actually from a short story I wrote when I was twelve. It's not going up here as it was absolutely awful (case in point, the 'cute guy' was called Galileo Figaro) but it's amazing what comes back to you.

Epilogue: Yep, he's still alive. Wasn't it lucky that so many guys were attacked with a flamethrower and concussion blast missiles this close to a large well stocked med-bay?

Partnerships: Yeah, I wanted the place to be somewhere the Sith would go to relax, and thus its catered for them in mind. Nothing draws in the freak creds like being able to lightly torture in a social setting. They get their excuse to torture someone, the bar gets their credits, everyone wins. Well, except for the slaves. As an interesting aside, isn't it odd how every Imperial class story but the Warrior goes in the Nexus room at one point or another.

Shorts: Why is Superman adult only? Well that's simple. He is a symbol of hope he's the cape. Why would the Imperial propoganda ministry not be terrified of something like this inspiring all those they rule through fear, or worse, getting into the slave population. Based on historical example of a real world Sith-like culture (the spartans) there could be as many as 19 slaves per imperial. If only 6% of that rebelled, there would be more rebelling slaves than free Imperials on a world. There's a reason some Sith, the ruling caste of the Empire, focus on quelling Slave rebellions.

One only has to look at Gandhi, MLK and Mandela's second attempt to free South Africa to see it in action. More recently, hope got a man from an systematically oppressed subgroup elected into the highest position of power on the whole planet. "Yes, we can."

@H_Weber: Nice little tidbit of description and characterisation for your sorc. Also, as Mird says, we so rarely get everyone's favourite space bounty hunter-, I mean pirate

“Use the command console. I can’t go with you - motor and combat systems non-functional. Please, make it stop hurting!" Tholver Shan begged, clutching his cybernetic head. Then he straightened up and stood motionless, like a puppet someone stopped playing with. I stared at it, trying to wrap my head around the whole idea.

Grathan kidnapped soldiers and used them as test subjects. His scientists cut their heads open and stuffed their still-living brains into droids. What, were there no Verbobrains available? I mean, what is up with that. There’s no reason anyone should be doing full-brain-ectomies or whatever they’re called. It’s sick and wrong and-, Oh stars, the kid! I glanced down at him, standing right beside me. He’d seen everything.

“Vette, I need your comm.,” he asked in a very quiet, very calm voice. I stared at him for a long moment. He stood there, in front of the… cyborg, lip trembling, eyes reddening and fists white. Then his words got through to me. I took it out and handed it to him mutely. I don’t know who he’s calling, or why. I don’t have anything clever or funny to say. How could I with all this in front of me?

He fiddled with it, flicking through my contacts one at a time until he found who he wanted. I already had a good idea who he called. If you’ve got an evil Sith scientist experimenting on people, then you needed a good Sith scientist to undo it.

The image atop the holocomm resolved, showing a woman in a Lord’s robes and mantle. She sat behind an expansive desk, in a high-backed chair with special grooves for her lekku.

“Roan, to what do I owe this call?” Lord Braca greeted, warm smile not reaching her wary eyes. Then his image must’ve resolved because she dropped the smile, “What is it?”

“If soldiers have been turned into robots, can you make them people again?” he asked, voice cracking and barely a whisper. She blinked and I had to wonder, did a Sith who worked in whatever part of the government that called itself biotic science know anything about biology?

“Uh, that depends on how the process is achieved. If they’ve transplanted brains or grafted cybernetics onto people, then yes; if their consciousness has been patterned onto a verbobrain, then no.” Okay, she does. What? It’s a fair question. She could’ve had scientists working for her or something.

“What about him?” the kid turned the holocomm. so it faced Tholver Shan-, uh, the cyborg, not the guy’s dead body on the table behind us.

“It would be feasible, though I must ask why?”

“They’re imperial soldiers. They’re doing their duty and he kidnapped them and did this to them.”

“Yes, but why do you care? They failed to defend themselves. You know what the Sith code says.”

“The code says Grathan can do what he wants to them if they lack the strength to oppose him but how can they compete with us? They aren’t Sith, so they shouldn’t have to live by our rules. Her face softened, eyes sad.

“Life isn’t fair, Roan. The sooner you learn this, the better. We’re Sith, we accept consequence and we grow from it.” The kid flinched from her words, his free hand flicking through his hair.

“It’s for Commander Dorne’s niece. You wanted leverage over him, this is it.” He finally admitted. She watched him with those large sad eyes and then sighed.

“I’m going to regret this, I already know it. Fine I’ll help,” the kid’s face lit up and he practically thrummed in place, “but I’ll need some things from you.”

“Name them,” he fired back before she even finished speaking. Uh, wow. Okay, I totally get what he’s doing for these guys is important, but agreeing to stuff before she even tells you what it is will screw you over in the long term.

“First, I need every soldier-droid prototype available.”

“Easy, they’re all in here, as well as a few scared scientists.” A tattooed eyebrow rose and it was all like BAM.

“You’re in Grathan’s compound right now?” the kid nodded, hair jerking all over the place, “Well, in that case. I require everyone who worked on the project, his lead cyberneticist, Dr. Lannitor Droge, and all his work. And Roan…” he bobbed his head, listening to her every word. She met his gaze, eyes boring straight through him.

“I don’t want Grathan coming after me if I do this for you. If you get the chance, kill him.” Um, okay. How is he going to do that? I get the kid’s fast and all, but the guy’s a Sith Lord. They don’t get the title by sitting on their thumbs all day. The kid nodded, and furrowed his brow determinedly.

“I’ll be in touch.” The holocomm whirred for a moment and then powered down. The kid handed me the holocomm, a weird fire in his eyes. He had a plan, something he could do.

“Okay, so yeah. What first?” I asked, trying to break the awkward silence.

“We get these men out, the scientists too. He said they had a control somewhere in the building.”

“Well, we haven’t looked upstairs. Maybe it’s up there?” I offered. Don’t get me wrong, what we’re doing is good and all, but I wonder why. The kid isn’t in it for favours and he doesn’t care about rewards. Why go to all the trouble when the best thing he can do is to put them out of their misery?

We padded down the walkway, leaving the brain of Tholver Shan and his robot prosthesis. Stars the Sith are just messed up. Who sees people and goes ‘hey, let’s plug his head in a robot and brainwash him into serving me’? Well: Grathan, I guess.

I followed the kid down the ramp and into the black tube at its base. Nothing happened.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked. Dumb question, I know but the look he gave me choked out any others. He had that weird fire in his eyes, not literal fire or anything just real determined, and the rest of his face was perfectly calm. For someone who was chatting and bouncing all the time, it looked- well, creepy. Then the elevator shot up, pulling at my head and lekku. It jerked to a stop at the top, jostling my headtails, making me feel a little sick but I bit it down. I lurched out of the lift, clutching the railing to my left to stay up. Whoa, head rush much? Couldn’t they have slowed that down just a little, or even the start and end?

In front of us was an enclosed walkway, the near wall dominated by windows. It was dark inside and as quiet as a graveyard. The kid stalked forwards into the darkness and light exploded from inside. I saw the computer at the end, the pillars every five metres on the far wall and I saw a guy in front of the computer. He was armed

The guard had one of those huge assault cannons between his legs, y’know the kind that can’t aim but really doesn’t need to. The barrel started spinning and green streaks filled the corridor. I kicked back, awkwardly hopping out of the line of fire. I felt air beneath my feet. Jerking myself forwards, I teetered on the edge of the elevator, which was oh- a bajillion miles away. I tried to balance on the balls of my feet, but they weren’t up to it and the mud coating the wraps was slippy.

I grabbed the railing just as my feet slid out under me. Pain stabbed at my arm and wrist as my full weight jolted onto them. I almost let go but I held on, barely. Gah, all that time starving in that tiny cell on Korriban hadn’t helped my muscles at all. Still. I guess it could’ve been worse. I hadn’t put on kilos from my stay either. I kinda just hung there, not able to haul myself up but not willing to let myself go either.

In all the excitement of not falling to my death, I almost didn’t see the kid leap. He bounced from wall to window to wall to window as the guard swept his assault cannon after him. Each one brought him closer, until he leapt down, red blade flashing through the air like a sheet of light. The green streaks stopped.

Something smacked my toes and I couldn’t help it. I yelped, hands flinching, everything drawing close and I let go. I fell, my knees smacking against the elevator. I rose up and crawled out of the elevator before it dropped again. Seriously, they could put a delay on this thing, or maybe a sensor or something. Slowly, rubbing my knees, I hauled myself up to my feet. Padding in, I saw something I hadn’t expected.

The assault cannon was on the ground, cut halfway down the barrel. Okay, that I kinda guessed, but I hadn’t thought the guy wielding it would still be alive. He had this mega-sized vibrosword and swept it around him in these ultra-tight arcs. The kid kept blurring in-out, red whipping at the guard only to be shoved aside with a flash of sparks. Huh, I thought normal guys weren’t fast enough to take on force users in a swordfight… hang on.

Tight turn from left shoulder, sweep across the midsection, tight turn at right shoulder, sweep across mid, tight turn at left: he wasn’t fighting, he was spinning his blade as fast as he could, hoping to catch the kid’s saber. So, why hadn’t the kid spotted it? Yeah, he whizzed all around the place in a fight but he was always watching for stuff he could exploit. Except now he wasn’t. He hammered on the guy like some machine, not letting up

I drew my blaster timed my shot and got the guy in the shoulder. He gasped and his blade went wide. Red flashed up, through the gap in his defence and took his other arm. Not done, the kid spun and kicked him in the belly with his full weight. The kid isn’t heavy at all but it was enough to send him down, wheezing a pained cry.

“Tell me how to free them!” the kid snapped, holding his lightsaber way too close to the guy’s face. The guy chuckled weakly and tapped something on his belt.

“Suck it, Sith.”

The sound of servomotors whirred behind me. I spun, to see two automated turrets sprout from the far end of the long corridor, already honing in on us. I leapt to the side, but there was no way I’d clear it fast enough. Green streaked right at me and slammed into a crimson shield. My shoulder bruised against the wall and I saw the kid. He was a blur, red lightsaber strobing around him in tight turns. He walked forwards, into the torrent of plasma fire. I couldn’t see anything around the support struts, couldn’t hear anything over the blasterfire.

The guard captain jerked as his own turrets hosed him down, burning hundreds of small holes into his body. That’s when I saw them, the three little orbs on his belt. Everyone who’s scavenged small arms on Nar Shaddaa recognises grenades. The Hutts pay good credits for any turned in, as an incentive to keep them from being used on their streets. If a shot hits one of them; well, the galaxy’s going to be down one cute twi’lek. I lurched forwards, snatching at the orbs with my right hand. I got one between my index and middle finger. The other two fell off his belt and started rolled downhill, towards the turrets: Huh, convenient.

I primed the grenade and flung it out. The orb hit the far wall, bouncing as it skittered down the walkway. Now I had to get the kid in cover. Lightsaber or not, you can’t stop a shockwave and this one would cook him alive. I glanced out and saw he was maybe a metre from me, blade still whirling around him. Yeah, there was no way I was getting near him without getting something lopped off.

“Fire in the hole, get into cover!” I yelled. I don’t know if he heard me, but that was everything I could do. I ducked behind the wall again, not seeing where the grenade landed. Something blurred in front of me, a dark figure lit only by the red shaft in his left hand. The lightsaber winked out and the kid pressed himself against me. Wrapping my arms around him, I sighed, relieved. He wasn’t gonna die here.

A wave of heat washed over me, covering me completely with way too hot air. I choked on it even as I gasped it in, scorching my mouth. Then it was gone. Don’t get me wrong, the air was still scalding to the touch but I didn’t feel it press against me. It howled and rushed past, but that was it. The kid though, he felt like ice frozen to my all-too-thin academy castoffs. The sudden desert storm abated, and he let go. What was that and how did he do it?

“The fire was in the corridor, not in a hole,” he stated, looking at me curiously. I blinked.

“Uh, it’s a saying. Fire in the hole means I’m tossing grenades and other explosives around, okay?”

“Okay,” he and then his face fell. I glanced over my shoulder. The computer terminal was slag, the screen dribbling down over the keyboard. There was no way we could use it.

“Uh, maybe we could call Mako,” I offered, pulling out my holocomm. I know I had Zul’s frequency but they weren’t working together anymore. Maybe she’d already headed back home? The kid closed his eyes and cocked his head to the side. Stars he’s so weird sometimes. Ah, I do have it, I knew it.

“She’soutside.” Huh, what was that? The kid spun and ran out the door, leaping over the railing. He kicked off the wall as he fell, landing in a roll and took off at a dead sprint. Where’s he going?

I followed him. Okay, not literally. I’m flexible and agile, but I can’t leap three stories and not break my legs. I took the elevator, which only felt like I was falling three stories, and staggered out after him. Huh, what’d you know, he was right.

Mako, Zul and another guy, tall dark and imposing, were outside, sticking to the walls. The kid was already most of the way over to them. Yeah, so need to have that chat about not leaving me behind. I jogged after him, as fast as I could without slipping in the mud. Seriously, what is with this planet and mud?

“IneedtoborrowMakoforsomething.She’llbebacksafelaterpromise,” the kid blurted as he grabbed Mako’s wrist. Half-running, half-pulling, he dragged her past me as I approached. Zul was in some green-grey Mandalorian looking power armour and didn’t look happy. Her guy friend looked. Hey, I know him. He’s that agent guy from the night that Sith attacked us.

“It’s uh, it’s important.” I hedged. Stars, that sounds lame. Yeah, any moment now I’m going to have an angry Chiss in power armour charging down my throat. One of these days he’s so gonna get me killed, if I don’t beat him to it myself. Blasterfire didn’t melt through me, guess she’s in a merciful mood. I turned and legged it after the two kids. Today was turning out great, huh.

Luxuriantly warm water fell over the Jedi’s naked form, every droplet a kiss from the faucet. Today had been long and arduous, but at long last, she was free. Free from the demands from what felt like every noble house from here to the Elysium. Free from Qyzen’s insistence to go hunt this world’s largest predators. She knew not to ask for a lighter burden but broader shoulders, would never consider shirking her role as a Jedi. It was just that sometimes it felt good to not be weighed down by the responsibility of the galaxy. These days, it felt like she only got time to be herself while in the shower. Even then, a rap on the bathroom door could shatter her peace and tranquillity. Fortunately, the only person aboard was Dr. Cedrax, busy tinkering in the cargo bay.

The door snapped open, clouds of steam billowing from the stall. Dr Cedrax rushed into the tiny stall, barefoot and sans coat. The Jedi who fearlessly faced down Sith on half a dozen worlds jumped, bare back pressed agaqinst the far wall and a girly squeak echoed around the stall. Tharan barely noticed. Instead, he tore his top off, revealing his smooth torso.

“Sorry Jedi, nicked the battery on my holoprojector. Sprayed battery fluid all over me.” He carried on massaging sanitiser into the downy blonde hair of his chest. “Stuff’s highly corrosive, not for skin contact but it’s water soluble. Won’t damage the shower and the filtration unit will remove it from the drinking water.” As he explained further, he ripped his pants off. He turned, water cascading down his back, hands reaching behind to wash his back. She saw it. Long, narrow and bulging between his legs, it looked like some kind of crotch sock and it bulged at her.

“What is that thing?” She peeped before she could stop herself. The near naked doctor glanced down at himself.

“Hmm? Oh this?” he poked the soaked hammock, the bulge shifting. “It’s a soldier’s girdle. They keep undue movement in that area to a minimum. It’s no different than your bra-, oh.” His gaze finally dropped below her neckline. Her hands went to cover her exposed flesh. The girdle twitched.

Qyzen’s claws clacked as he walked up the stairs, the bloody Carcass of a particularly large Lraida festooned over his shoulders. Blood patted from the wound in its side, leaving a trail all the way through the spaceport but it couldn’t be helped. It was a good kill: one that would keep him fed for a whole week. He had earned more points today than on that trip to Mandalore last month: He had been wrong when he had thought Alderaan would be boring.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he heard a piercing yelp and something humanoid and olive green blurred past him.

“<Herald?>” he growled in his native Dosh. This was serious. If anything could startle the Herald, it was a deadly threat. He dropped the beast and unslung his techstaff. It ‘whumpfed’ down the stairs, covering them with gore. The sound masked the sound of his claws on bulkhead. He stalked down the stairs, following her warm wet tracks back to their source. They came from the shower.

Qyzen kicked the door open, ready for battle. Another shrill shriek filled the ship. It was the soft scientist, his pink skin exposed to the air. He smelt of soap and flowers. His clothes were on the floor, and the Herald's were in a pile nearby.

“Uh, Qyzen, what a big staff you’ve got there,” the doctor whimpered. Qyzen pushed him against the far wall with his staff. He loomed forwards, fanged maw barely centimetres from the human’s face. Qyzen tasted the air. He couldn’t smell Herald’s scent on him, but the Doctor had just washed everything off. Herald had been scared, fled, but Herald isn’t fearful. She is hunter, not prey. Yuon should know of this. First, Herald needed clothes.

Qyzen picked up the flimsy materials, keeping his hands balled to spare them from his claws. White gown dress with patterns; larger purple jerkin with electric smell; odd wire and bulb thing that smelled of flowers, odd Y-shaped thing that smelled of Herald: he gathered them all. Grumbling a vague threat regarding the doctor's liver, he clicked back out of the bathroom, up to her door. It was closed. She didn’t close doors; hide in walls of metal.

He clicked his claws against Herald’s door twice. There was no response.

“<Herald, is Qyzen. Have things for you. Please open door.>” it stayed closed. Qyzen waited. He could wait. It was important for a hunter, and Herald wanted him to wait. He waited some more. The dew scent of rain came in through the open ramp. Her door opened.

She smelled of fruits, salts and Wroshyrr wood. Fruit smell came from her fur, and the pink-white goo in it. Wroshyrr smell came from thick Jedi robes and large Jedi helmet. Her face was darker green, same colour as his scales around her eyes. Salt smell came from her face.

“<You are hurting?>” he asked. Herald never fled before, always hunted Sith prey without fear.

“I’m okay Qyzen. Doctor Cedrax just startled me, that’s all.” He tasted the air, scent was thick under gunk, was lie.

“<Would you like gift of his entrails?>” She laughed weakly, like it was a joke. Soft scientist startled Herald, is grave offense. Qyzen thought her laugh meant no. hominids were difficult to understand sometimes. Were she Dosha, he would know what she wanted.

“No, he reminded me of something I thought I’d gotten past. Thank you for my clothes Qyzen,” she acknowledged, taking her garments from over his arm. “but I think I’m going to call it a night. I’ll see you in the morning.” The door closed. Qyzen watched it for some time more. Herald had lied. Should ask Yuon what it all meant.