I liked the camaraderie of the group, Thorns' warm reception and Koth reflecting back to earlier times. I am wondering how the hunter ended up fighting in the Grand Arena. And does the Akk dog have a name?

“Attention unidentified ship, you are in restricted space, turn around immediately. You have five seconds to comply before hostile counter actions are taken,” the static-y voice sounded over the comm.

Frowning, her yellow-green hand slammed on the comm button. “I know exactly where I am. If you fire on me you will be dealt with accordingly. I will be landing in that spaceport. Unless you want to be minus your support aircraft I suggest you stop bothering me.” She jerked her hand away from the button, ending the call. “Take us in, they do anything stupid I will deal with them.”

“Whatever you say Sith,” Andronikos smiled next to her, preparing evasive maneuvers as Republic fighters appeared on the horizon.

“Alright boys you know the drill. Go and get her. This is going to be fast and simple. Don’t talk to anyone. Niko, you Talos and Xalek will be with me. Khem darling, you will get to guard the ship. If anyone dares to come near it, you have my permission to eat them.”

“Of course little Sith,” Khem answered.

Turning on her foot she stalked to the aft of the ship and punched the airlock open, pacing as the gangplank slowly lowered. “We have her Lord,” Xelek announced. He and Niko were holding a bound and gagged Ashara.

“Excellent lets get this over with.”

Quickly she walked off the ship; the men fell into step behind her, dragging their protesting burden. As she passed down the hall people stopped and stared. A few padawans actually ran. If she was not so determined to see this though she would of laughed and given chase.

The hall emptied out into a large circular chamber, they appeared to be on the second floor, graceful open stairs circled the perimeter of the room, leading to the lower level. Before her she felt them, it had to be them; there was subtle power in the room up to the right. It reeked of Jedi.

“This way boys,” she continued towards the massive doors. Reaching out she shoved the doors inward, they swung open on quiet hinges. Inside the people gasped and jumped to their feet. Casually striding into the room she looked around. So this was the Jedi Council chamber. It was nice; spacious, a little to well lit for her liking but all in all nice.

The humanoids inside jumped to their feet. “What is the meaning of this!” a man shouted.

She smiled. “I'm simply returning something that belongs to you. I simply can not take it anymore.”

Beside her Ashara started to yell; but the words and most the sound, was muffled by the gag in her mouth.

She shook her head. “I can't do it, I have tried. For years I have tried. She is by far the worst apprentice I have ever come across; completely headstrong, stubborn, excessively prideful.” She rubbed her temple, “And I’m Sith, honestly if a Sith says she's bad well.... perhaps you can do something with her.”

“I would keep a close eye on her, she does not seem to have any qualms about killing fellow Jedi and she's poked around a Sith holocron. But I’m done you can have her back. Enjoy.”

She looked around the room, the Jedi gathered there just stared back, speechless.

“Uhh, well right then, we shall be going. Boys put her anywhere.” She gestured at the room.

Beside her Niko and Xalek moved and unceremoniously dropped Ashara at the feet of the gathered Jedi. Taking one last look around the room she turned to leave. Frowning she saw Talos across the room taking a scan of some sort of stone tablet. “Talos darling, it is time to go, this is not a field trip.”

“Right my Lord, so sorry.” He quickly stowed his datapad and hurried to her side, falling instep next to her. “They have such fascinating things in here. That piece appeared to be thousands of years old, possibly predating the Dark Jedi's arrival on Korriban. Completely amazing, it's in such wonderful condition,” he whispered, "do you think I should inform them that the relic is actually Sith in origination.”

She bowed her head smiling, “I don't think they would appreciate it dear.” She continued walking as the pirate and her apprentice fell instep behind her; as she crossed the threshold the doors slammed shut.

“Lets get out of here, I want to put as much distance between us and this place, with my luck they will untie her and bring her back to the ship.” The men all groaned and everyone quickened their step, almost running to get back to the Interceptor.

I have been forced to conclude that Ashara is an incredibly powerful JedI Master who Force tricked me into taking her on board my ship, because honestly, after six or seven conversations I have no recollection of why I took her aboard or how we might ever agree on anything.

"RNGH," honked Kaliyo.

Wynston grabbed a pillow and pressed it over his eyes and ears. "What are you doing?" he said.

"Found the spot in your files where you keep the three-inch-high red 'REDACTED' stamp. RNGH. RNGH."

"Kaliyo, that's for doing the opposite of talking. You are horrible at the opposite of talking."

"That's not what you were yelling last night. RNGH." She punched his chest with her imaginary REDACTED stamp. "Why do you do it, anyway? All your after action reports, you list the prep in nauseating detail, but when we get to the juicy stuff it's-"

"Rngh, yes, I realize. Your specific methods and capabilities are to be kept in close confidence. If you weren't this impressive I wouldn't have to censor you."

"If I weren't this censored...hell, I'd still impress you."

"I'm aware."

"RNGH." She punched his stomach and ran out giggling. He resigned himself to the fact that two-thirds of the ship's files would be marked Redacted by morning. He could probably salvage them, anyway.

Wynston needs a better lock on his desk drawer. One rigged with sleep darts to put her to sleep when she tries to slice it.

I think you might be onto something there. My SI couldn't stand her and didn't want her on her ship. I stopped talking to her and there is a permanent yellow triangle over her head. I just don't have the strength.

There are some things that nobody needs to know. The Pink Apprentice, Pansey, reminded herself of this again and again. Her master, Darth Baras, had been unnerved by the information revealed from the tormented Republic Spy. Baras had spent a lifetime building up a network of influence across the galaxy, an accomplishment which made him uniquely prepared to bring real and lasting change to the Empire. It was Baras's commitment to ushering in a new age of the Empire that had won Pansey's unquestioned loyalty: a new, glorious Empire where even an alien or a slave or a non-force sensitive being could still be respected and admired, serving the Empire according to their merits, rather than being condemned by birthright. Darth Baras represented change, and Pansey was prepared to lay down her life to see him successful. Yet it wasn't her own life which had been asked of her.

There are some things that nobody needs to know. So Darth Baras had reminded her, warning her of Noman Karr's padawan and their unique ability to harness the force in such a way that they could see through any deception. With this padawan, no secret could be kept safe. The Jedi would know everything. The Republic would know everything. All of Darth Baras's great work and preparation would collapse like a house of cards. All because of some nosey Jedi. All because the Republic couldn't just leave it alone, when Baras was only trying to fix matters within the Empire.

There are some things that nobody needs to know. That was what Darth Baras had told Commander Rylon when he was embedded within the Republic military. Rylon had been groomed and prepared to climb the ranks as an officer, something that had often required him to work against the Empire in the interest of maintaining his cover and building trust. Rylon had been responsible for many Imperial defeats, boldly leading Republic troops to victory, much to his own disgust. Still, it was necessary in order for him to accomplish his mission, and there are some things that nobody needs to know.

"You don't have to do this," Pansey pleaded with Commander Rylon. The Commander stood amongst the dead bodies of his former Republic subordinates. The blaster pistol was steady in his hand, the barrel trained on Pansey and ready to fire. Pansey's pink lightsaber hummed faintly at her side. "I could bring you back with me. We could pretend like you were taken prisoner."

"Noman Karr's padawan would know," Commander Rylon stoically reminded her, "And there are some things that nobody needs to know."

"There are other ways," Pansey insisted, "Your son! When I rescued him, there were drugs and machines in that Republic base. We were able to erase his memories. Even Noman Karr's padawan couldn't pry your secrets from him now. We could do that for you too. You don't have to die here!"

"I always knew this was how my assignment would end," Commander Rylon admitted grimly, "And I welcome it. The Republic can never learn what I did here; it would throw away decades of work and sacrifice. And the Empire can never learn what I was forced to do here; everything I've done against the Empire to maintain my cover, I'd be thought of as a traitor. No, this is how it has to be."

"You're a good man," Pansey begged, "I can't just kill you in cold blood."

"You're right. You can't," Commander Rylon agrees, "You didn't fight your way through dozens of Republic soldiers, only to have a high ranking officer bow his head and surrender for execution. This has to look as though I fought for my life. You'll need to come at me with everything you've got, because I will not be holding anything back."

The reverberation of blaster fire echoed through the chamber, along with the springing clang of being parried by a lightsaber. Three shots before the room went silent, Pansey cradling Rylon in her arms, easing him to the floor while the blood flowed from the stab wound through his chest. The life drained from his eyes, and Rylon died there in her arms, a dutiful life spent in service to the Empire, tragically cut short due to the ominous threat of Noman Karr's terrifying apprentice.

Pansey didn't know about the cameras recording the scene, or the footage that Noman Karr's associate tried to send back to the Republic, revealing the details of their conversation and turn all of Commander Rylon's sacrifices in vain. Thankfully, a young Imperial officer named Malavai Quinn intercepted the transmission, while also guiding Pansey across the spaceport to narrowly intercept Noman Karr's spy. Pansey cut down the deceitful Jedi, but not before he was able to transmit the Holo back to Noman Karr, and heartbroken, Pansey returned to the Imperial Outpost to report her failure to her master, Darth Baras.

It was then that Quinn played for her the Holo and her heart soared with joy.

The flickering blue figures of Pansey and Commander Rylon were face to face. ""I could bring you back with me. bzzt. ...Taken prisoner." Pansey declared.

"...I fought for my life," Commander Rylon replied defiantly. "You'll need to come at me with everything you've got, because I will not be holding anything back."

The edit was nearly seemless, depicting Rylon standing boldly against Pansey, before firing his blaster and doing his best to end her life. Regardless of Noman Karr's suspicions, a display such as this allowed Rylon's cover to be maintained, and his dying act to be in service to the Empire.

Pansey threw her arms around Quinn, hugging him. "You're my hero," she declared.

"Of course," Quinn said, bowing his head to hide his blushing, "Any way I can be of service to you, or Darth Baras, I am forever at your disposal."

The receptionist looked up from her terminal with the reflexive smile of her profession. “Welcome to Alpine Ascetics Meditation Complex!” Her eyes swept the figure standing in front of her desk and caught the lightsaber hanging at his hip. “How may I help you, ah, Master Jedi?”

The robed Mon Calamari blinked at her, then cleared his throat. “Ahem. Yes – ah, yes, I'm a Jedi,” he replied. “I'm looking for someone – I was told she'd be here somewhere.” He pulled a holopic from his datapad, an image of a smiling, well-dressed Caridian. “Could you -”

She stopped him with a raised hand. “Say no more, Master Jedi! While we at Alpine Ascetics maintain the highest level of privacy for our clients, the arrival of Executive Aptin Fenz is hardly a secret. Of course, we have our own highly qualified staff of advisers and spiritual guides, but I'm sure she would be pleased and honored to consult with a member of your esteemed Order.” She tapped some keys on her terminal. “I can notify her of your desire to see her, Master, um...” She looked at him questioningly.

He seemed hesitant to respond. “Guss- I mean, Master Tuno.” As the receptionist typed the name into her keyboard, the Mon Calamari continued. “But, ah, this is an unofficial visit, you know, no need to make any permanent record of this...or notify the Jedi Order...” Again, the receptionist smiled and nodded. “Nothing to fear, Master Tuno, discretion is assured. You're lucky, though – Ms. Fenz is officially entering voluntary seclusion tomorrow. Today is the last day she will see anyone but service droids for a full thirty-day cycle.” She gestured toward a small array of overstuffed chairs. “Please make yourself comfortable; I'm sure Executive Fenz will quickly open her schedule to consult with a Jedi.” The Mon Cal, taking his cue, sauntered over to the waiting area and settled himself into a very comfortable chair.

“Okay, Guss, so far, so good,” the Mon Calamari muttered to himself. It had seemed like a simple job: talk some big businesswoman out of turning her back on her life's work. Only after he'd agreed to do it did he find out he had to get in to talk to Executive Aptin Fenz, the head of the entire Aratech Corporation, one of the biggest manufacturers in the whole galaxy! He still didn't really know what he was going to say when he actually met her, but he was sure something would come to him. Glancing around and failing to spot a snack machine, he relaxed and watched the news on the nearby holoprojector.

He was awakened by the sound of a protocol droid. “Excuse me, Master Tuno, but Executive Fenz will see you now. Right this way, if you please.” After moment of confusion, Guss recalled where he was and what he was doing, and followed the droid. There were a dozen people crowded around the door to Fenz' room, a mix of severe-looking business suits and angry-looking fashion plates. When they saw the Jedi robes and lightsaber approaching, there was a moment of surprise and calculation in their eyes, then they seemed to all speak at once, to him and to each other.

“A Jedi! Maybe you can talk some sense into her...”

“She'll talk to some stranger, but not to me!? Some nerve...”

“Master Jedi! Please tell her to sign this agreement, it's best for everyone...”

“She's not gonna leave it all to the Jedi, is she? I have my rights...”

“Master Jedi, I'm the COO of Aratech. Tell these fools that I'm the rightful successor to the top spot...”

A couple of them blocked the doorway, and Guss could tell they weren't going to let him slip through with just silent dignity. After their initial outburst, they fell quiet and stared at him. He looked from one to the other as the silence grew more uncomfortable. “Ah...” he stammered, “I, um, I appreciate your concerns – as a Jedi, of course I understand. I'm a Jedi.” When they didn't move, he resumed, “and, um, as a Jedi, let me assure you the Order isn't gonna take anyone's money. Even if there is a lot of it.” He winced; that didn't come out right, he thought. “I'm not here about contracts or anything. I'm not a lawyer, I'm a Jedi.” That sounds better! “I'm only here to talk, you know – uh, spiritual stuff.” He struck a pose he hoped looked serene and meditative, folding his hands together and bowing his head. With sighs of frustration, they parted and allowed the droid to escort him into the room.

The room was like a nice hotel room, but crowded with piles of clothes, food and other items. From the back corner, a Caridian in a loose sweater waved. “Back here, Master Jedi!” Guss dodged past the droids packing stuff into boxes and crates. “What an unexpected honor! A visit from a Jedi Master!” She bowed briefly. “Aptin Fenz, CEO Aratech Corporation – for about twenty more hours, anyway.” Shoving a stack of medical supplies off a chair, she retrieved a half-empty bottle of wine from the crate next to her and refilled the glass on the table. “Have a seat, Master Jedi!”

“Why thank you!” Guss looked around. “You, ah, seem to have a lot of stuff here. Taking it all with you?”

Fenz nodded and smiled. “I'm going into seclusion – becoming a hermit for a while while I sort things out. Giving up my position and everything, rethinking my life – but that doesn't mean I have to live like a pauper, eh? I'd love to get some advice from a Jedi Master!” She took a sip of her wine, savoring it for a moment, then fished out an empty glass, “can I pour you a...oh, wait, Jedi don't drink, do they?”

“I...well, most of them – us – don't, but...what have you got there?” A rich, pleasant aroma reached Guss from the open bottle.

“This?” Fenz glanced at the label. “Tanum Cabernet '44 – a little sweet for my taste, but very good vintage. Winner of the Carida Vintners' Association gold medal a few years ago.” She poured a glass and handed it to Guss. “So, what does a Jedi Master have to say to a seeker like me?”

Guss enjoyed the tingle of wine on his tongue and the warmth sliding down his throat. Not too sweet for me! “Well, about that – I'm not sure this is the best thing for you, stepping away from everything. I had a...vision, yes, a vision about you. You know, when I was meditating.” He took a gulp of wine. “You have a lot of responsibilities, you know, you can't just walk away from them.”

Fenz regarded him curiously. “But isn't that what the Jedi do? All that stuff about avoiding commitments, no love or luxuries or anything? No material wealth? So you can focus on your meditation and spiritual wellbeing?”

“Well, yeah, some Jedi are like that.” He took another pull at his glass, and held it out for refill. “But not all of them, I mean, us. And not everyone is a Jedi. See, some are cut out to be Jedi, some are better suited to be soldiers, or bankers, or winemakers...” he could feel the relaxing glow reaching his limbs.

“...or corporate executives?” Fenz asked. “That hardly seems something the Jedi would consider enlightened.”

“Well, some Jedi are kind of big-headed that way,” Guss replied, “but really, think about it. You've got a lot of people depending on you. There's a pack of vultures outside who want to tear apart what you've built. And the good you can do as CEO is so much more than you can do as a little old lady out in the forest.”

Fenz pondered his words. “I didn't expect to hear this from a Jedi. Tell me more...”

----- The next day. -----

“Welcome back, Guss! I caught the news, Fenz is back on the job! Well done! How did you manage it?”

Guss hefted the box he was carrying onto the shelf in his room. “Oh, hi boss! I just talked, um, you know, wise Jedi stuff to him. About destiny and service and all that. And she gave me some stuff she didn't need any more – a bunch of medical supplies. I'm unloading them now.”

“'Wise Jedi stuff?' What do you mean by that?” Photin raised an eyebrow. “Did you pose as a Jedi or something?”

Guss' skin took on an odd tint, which Photin recognized as Mon Cal blushing. “Well, I...yeah, I might have. It was the only way I could get in to see her, it's not like I stole anything or hurt anyone!”

Photin put her hands on her hips. “I asked you not to do that, Guss, it could get you and me in a lot of trouble...by the way, what's that box you just shelved? Medical supplies should go in the medbay...”

“Hey, I got the job done, right?” Guss held his webbed hands up defensively. “And we got some free stuff – which I didn't steal!” Photin glanced meaningfully at the box. “Um, that's a case of wine...as I guess you can tell from the label...just a little extra gift from a grateful seeker, yes? Don't worry, I'll share it with the rest of the crew!”

@Lord_Throne, GUSS FICS YES. His bumbling is hilarious and endearing, spot on. I was dying at “and, um, as a Jedi, let me assure you the Order isn't gonna take anyone's money. Even if there is a lot of it.”

@drug_cartel, what a perfect application of censorship/creative surveillance! I like seeing Pansey’s reasoning for what she’s doing and why it has to be hush-hush.

Ruth was going back and forth on whether to tip the droid bartender when the time came. It appeared to be a significant cultural divide. She was meeting a Sith, so no tip was probably better suited.

The bartender, a four-armed protocol droid with a spade-shaped silver head and unsettling blue coil eyes, swiveled to look at her like it knew.

The cantina on Odessen was broad and low-ceilinged, an artifact of the first feverishly rushed construction of the base. Its lights were comfortably vague and tinged with rose. There were round tables, and leatheris-upholstered booths done in loud multicolored patterns that none of the designers would admit to. Maybe because Ruth had been armed when she asked. One entire wall bore a single sinuous neon line twisting into silhouettes of a Twi'lek, a Zeltron, a Rodian, all one bright red mural. The smell was a complex but appetizing mélange. The place was more than half full of people chattering more or less peacefully. People noticed the Outlander here, but she plainly didn’t overawe them.

Lana walked in with her customary decisiveness. She was in black, something with a startlingly low neckline and snug waist. Well, they weren't on duty. She smiled greeting. “Ruth.”

“Lana. Dressing up?”

Lana touched the aurodium chain of orange stones at her neck, bright punctuation to the fair skin and black cloth. She had been really, really proud of that necklace since the day Wynston had given it to her. The positive mood was contagious. “I can't be practical all the time.”

Ruth laughed. “Yes, you can.” Not that she would crush her lieutenant’s sartorial dreams, not when she was in such good spirits. “You look good.”

Lana’s pale eyebrows shot up. “Ruth, I had no idea.”

“What–I–!”

Lana grinned. “Try not to sound too horrified.” She took the stool next to Ruth and leaned toward the bartender. “Droidbanger, please.”

“Oh, naughty,” said the bartender in its rapid falsetto, and swung into motion.

“…What?” said Ruth.

“You’ve never heard of them? There was a big ad campaign for it in Hutt space a few years back. ‘Droidbanger. If it's wrong I don't want to be right’.”

“Oh, naughty,” chorused the droid.

“I find it quite refreshing,” said Lana.

“Now I have to know. One for me. – I assume from the amount of alcohol going on that Wynston won't be joining us.”

“He's on the hyperlanes,” Lana said briskly. “He and Tebbith are going to dazzle an undecided cartel with their diplomatic ways.”

“Wynston...teamed with a Jedi. Will wonders never cease.”

“He has never been anything but polite about him.”

“Lana. You know how he feels about Force users.”

Lana swept in the tall narrow glass filled with a greyscale gradient. “Do I? Any time I try to talk to him about a Force sensitive he gets an urgent message from somewhere.”

“You and I got insanely lucky to not be on his Sith list.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“Why aren't you going? You're the best negotiator we have.”

“You flatter me. But in addition to Wynston’s expertise we wanted the veneer of respectability. That means Jedi. I am too...devious.”

“Hmm. Wynston likes devious women. Probably the reason he and I didn't work out.”

“He admires you. Greatly.”

“Mutual, but devious earns you more favors.” Ruth took her own glass. “Why don't we sit?”

They adjourned to a little round table near the door, close enough for easy eavesdropping in several directions. A Lana special.

“Try it,” said Lana, and tipped her glass to her lips for just a moment.

Ruth followed suit and drank in one sludgy mouthful of…

…

…she swallowed, barely.

“What did I just put in my mouth?” she garbled. “Is that oil?”

“From a strictly chemical perspective, yes.” Lana beamed. “Unforgettable, isn't it?”

“This was a prank!”

“There was a nonzero chance you might like it. I do.” Lana tossed half of hers back with every evidence of enjoyment. “I'm happy I could expand your horizons.”

“That's it. Clean living and seltzer water from here on out.”

“You're defeating the point of going out for drinks.”

They stayed there, bordering on gossip as the unpacked the day's events. Sith to Sith; in a backwards way they did have more in common than did most random Alliance pairings. It was a great conversation, but Ruth didn’t touch the Droidbanger again.

*

…several months later, Lana plunges into danger on a solo mission voted on by the command staff...

*

Ruth left the command staff, minus one, in ops. She unzipped her grey body armor and she still felt like she couldn't breathe. She turned her steps to the cantina, where the spotty crowd looked and sounded funereal. The jukebox was settled in a nest of inert wires.

She sat at the bar. A Talz was nursing something metallic at the far end. Ruth waved. They rolled all their eyes and left.

So this was what remained.

She turned to the bartender droid. “A Droidbanger, please.”

Its blue coil eyes flared. “Oh, naughty.”

Ruth pulled out her holo, eyed it, and put it back.

Minutes or days later she heard someone behind her, their Force presence damped to near silence. Either Wynston or someone trying to kill her.

“You must be either an angel or a staggeringly good impersonator.”

Wynston. She turned. “Impersonator? Really?”

He shrugged sheepishly. “I'm off my game.”

Ruth hurried to push the pungent glass away.

“Don't toss it on my account,” he said. “I don’t require that everyone else stop drinking.”

“It tastes terrible.”

Hm. One Droidwinker, please.”

“Ooh, naughty,” said the bartender droid.

Ruth looked at Wynston.

He grinned. “It’s something Lana had our resident mixologist concoct out of juice and extracts and, ah, unspecified nonalcoholic ingredients.”

“Oh? How is it?”

He looked surreptitiously around at the thin crowd, then theatrically leaned in to touch his lips to her ear. “It is vile beyond my ability to express.” He eased onto the stool next to her. “You can never tell her I said that. I think of her when I have it, so it’s my favorite.”

“It must be. It has you smiling. The bar’s really okay?”

Wynston took the wide tumbler, gave Ruth a stoic look, and downed a fair portion of the blue-green swirl. “Just like she makes it,” he murmured. “The bar’s fine. I do have to learn to cope with the existence of watering holes or I'd be useless for half my missions. Besides, one meets the most interesting people there.” He winked.

Ruth’s holo beeped. She tore it out of her pocket so fast she almost took the pocket with it, and laid the holo on the bar. The beeping stopped; the screen indicated a terminated call, sender unknown.

“Ah,” Wynston said distinctly.

“I told her she could holo me anytime,” said Ruth. “I wish I could go stab something instead, but I can’t, so…here I am. We could split a drink remotely. Even a bad one. I just didn’t want…this.”

Wynston nodded. He took out his own holo and laid it by Ruth’s. “I made her the same offer. I've…wondered,” he said, and sipped. “How much separation can I take? A day or two, a week, easily. A few weeks if I have to. Months, if I agreed on the reason. But indefinitely? If this is commitment I have to say I preferred being a cad.”

“She’ll come home,” said Ruth. “She has a life here.”

The pulse was clear under his smooth blue skin, cast to pale violet by the lighting. His throat worked. “We're all on the same side. She made her reasons clear and...I understand them.”

“But you voted against her.”

His face had remained completely, hellishly calm. And it was, too, when he murmured, “I want her home.”

Ruth pressed his hand, then turned to her own drink. A vague resolution surfaced in her mind. “This is for you, Lana,” she said, and downed the entire remainder of that burning aching sludge with acid on top.

Wynston watched, bemused. “You're dedicating a Droidbanger to her? I thought you were friends.”

“Oh, naughty,” supplied the bartender droid.

The holos continued to do nothing. Table after table emptied. The Rodian in the wall mural flickered and went out, leaving a dull gap in the procession. No further missions materialized, nothing more to do. Ruth and Wynston's conversation limped and failed.

“It's going to be okay,” said Ruth.

He smiled. But he had finally run out of words. The bartender started switching off the rose-hued lights in the dining room. The two nudged their glasses around, and let the bartender tally its tips, and waited for a call to tell them how to feel.

I heard it mentioned that sometimes what you like about a drink is the experiences you've had with it in the past. There's something to that.

June, 11 ATC

4 weeks before the confirmation of the Wrath

---

Jaesa woke early and waited in the mess. Her mentor and friend the Light Side Sith Ruth hadn’t been seen since the night before, when she deposited a wounded Quinn in the cargo bay, called Broonmark and Pierce to guard, and stomped into her quarters.

Ruth showed up. Her clothes were still a little scorched. It was hard to tell in the hollows of her bloodless face, but her eyes seemed to have a red glint. Her presence in the Force was a sucking wound.

“Good morning,” said Jaesa.

Broonmark, passing by in the hall, coughed hard.

“Do we have my targets for the day?” said Ruth. She wasn’t moving toward the food.

Jaesa pulled out the kind of pastry Ruth favored. “We haven’t heard from the Emperor’s Hand.”

“I’ve scared up a lead or two,” said Pierce, inviting himself in. “We’ll get to Baras’s spies.”

“Good,” said Ruth. “Right back to the beginning.”

Fury laced her words. Jaesa hadn’t been there for that beginning. The imprisoned man had been. She pushed the pastry across the counter, then poured some caf. “Ruth, do you want to center yourself before we go out there?”

“‘Master’ will do,” she said. “And I’m centered exactly where I need to be.”

She pushed the caf over. “Have you talked to Quinn?”

Desperation flashed in what little blue was left. “Nobody talks to him. Nobody talks about him. You get to guard him today. If he moves a hair out of line, knock him out and holo me.”

Pierce shifted. “It’s better if he stays conscious, milord.”

Jaesa wondered whether Ruth was thinking about the fact that Pierce and Broonmark had had the chance to work the man over last night when he’d come back to the ship after his failed trap. But all Ruth said was, “Good point. No medical attention, Jaesa.”

“You don’t have to go out,” said Jaesa.

“Yes, I do. It doesn’t slow down. It never slows down. I don’t need to slow down.”

Jaesa looked pleadingly at Pierce. Pierce arched a noncommittal eyebrow at Jaesa. Something about his eyes seemed to be awake for the first time. He wasn't going to interfere with the free fall.

“Don’t be obtuse,” said Ruth. “There’s a new normal here. With a new lesson plan. Trust no one. When you look at me look for my weaknesses.” Her jaw worked. “Everyone else does.”

“I’ll back you up, master. No matter what.”

“I’m sure someone will beat that out of you before this is done.”

Vette popped her head in. “Good morning, sisters and Pierce I guess,” she said. “We laying low for a while?”

“Not for a minute,” said Ruth. “Be prepared to guard the ship. If you leave without me I will make you wish I’d left you on Korriban.”

“Why would I take your ship?” Vette said blankly. “You think I’d be seen flying this monument to the Imperial aesthetic?”

Ruth kneaded her temples. “Has anyone ever told you you talk a lot?”

“Nah. Never heard that one before.” She sounded too cheerful, as though wounded. “Nice of you to ask, though.”

Ruth looked past her. “Broonmark,” she barked, the edge in her command voice harder than ever.

The Talz appeared in the doorway. Ruth looked him over and her mouth hardly twitched at all. She jerked her thumb toward Pierce. “You two want to have some fun? I’ve got people to kill.”

Until recently she had reversed that pair of assignments, leaving the vicious ones behind. Jaesa leaned forward. “If we get to Baras’s spies we can find out how far he–”

“We kill them. That’s what we do with…” Ruth trailed off, staring at the floor. “That’s what we…that’s…” Jaesa was the only one to brace herself against the red swell when Ruth looked back up. "They’re going to die.”

“Let me handle this,” said Jaesa. “Please. Stay here. You’ll be protected.”

“My father is dead. My–he is a traitor. Who the hell do you think would be protecting me?”

“Me, master.”

“Then why didn’t you start twenty-four hours ago?” Ruth’s jaw twitched again and she sat very slightly taller. “I’m going to get this right. I’m not going to slow down. Someday you will be afraid of me.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Someday soon.” She made gloved fists and stepped out.

Pierce lingered. “Things just got interesting.”

Jaesa knew it was the dread talking, but she was too disgusted to stay quiet. “You know I only had to use my power on you once? Your bloodlust runs straight through.”

Pierce cracked a grin. “And her?” Ruth was already gone around the corner. Jaesa sat irresolute. Pierce eyed her. “How often does it change?”

Never, she wanted to claim, she will always carry the light; but he was already walking away, and after all, Jaesa didn’t know for sure.

Five days. Five bloody days of not being allowed to do anything else than rest. One hundred and twenty hours, including the last night that had been a sleepless long one. Nyx could not bear it anymore.

The medical droid which had advised Lana about her treatment was lucky she had no idea of its registration number. If she was ever able to find out, she would throw it into the junk yard herself. Or use it as a training dummy. Yes, she liked the second option even better, in fact.

And if she had in her life another opportunity to become empress, she might consider it seriously. Just for the sake of becoming a tyrant and preventing to be forced to rest by her most trusted companions. Fine, she had blacked out. Arcann, Vaylin then Valkorion, it had been finally -slightly- too much to handle for her and she had crumbled into pieces as soon as the celebrations were over. And yes, she had needed twenty-four hours of continuous sleep before even being able to walk again without swaying dangerously. But then she was good, they should have let her out already three days ago at the very least!

Theron had already paid the price of her being allowed too much time to think. And this was another reason why she could not bear staying inactive another minute. She had made her choice and was still sure that she had taken the best decision, for both of them. But their break-up was the only thing she had been rehashing in the head within the last few hours. This had to stop.

For now, the most urgent thing was to move. Do something which would require focusing her mind on every inch of her body in motion. A fight, she craved a fight. Desperately. And if she ended up in the medical bay again, she would make sure to be conscious enough not to let anyone decide that she needed more rest. They all feared that she would end up dead because of a careless mistake, but no one was considering that she could definitely die of boredom instead.

Nyx grabbed her lightsaber and nearly punched the button that controlled the door of her room. Seeing that no one was out there to tell her to go back to rest was already quite a relief. After her last nighttime escapade, she had wondered if Lana would substantiate her threat and have someone guard her door to make sure she did not get out again. But there was no one there to stop her while she took the direction of the Force Enclave. There, she would try to find a valuable opponent for a sparring session. And if no one could satisfy her needs, she would go down into the woods and fight shade stalkers. One way or another, she would have her fight.

Reaching destination, she was glad to note that her suggestions on the way Senya and Arcann could contribute to the Alliance had been heard. Mother and son were training Force users from both sides in the Enclave. Learning from the zakuulian way of fighting would benefit all of them, improve their skills and give them different perspectives. Wielding a lightsaber had never been her strength neither. She usually sparred with Lana but knew her style so well that it had become boring. What she saw now was different. She was not familiar with the moves Arcann and his mother were using. That, she would be willing to learn.

Senya was the first to notice her. Instructing her students to follow her son's lead, she left the training area and walked in Nyx's direction.

"Good to see you back among us, Commander," she said with an inviting smile. Then, nodding in the direction of the students, “You are welcome to join training if you want."

Nyx shook her head, her mouth curving into a playful smile. "No. I want a fight. And I want him." Yes. Force powers set aside, she was certain that he was a better fighter than her and that she would probably take a few hard blows. But she did not care, she learnt better that way in any case. And if she wanted to feel comfortable with him fighting by her side, she needed to know his every moves. "Him and no other."

Senya surrendered and returned to the mixed group of practicing Jedi, Sith and Knights, giving word to her son that he was awaited. He frowned but left them, grabbing an additional training sword before joining Nyx.

"Commander?" He handed her the spare sword, looking at her sceptically. "Last time we fought each other--"

"We were enemies and one of us, if not both, would have been killed by the other if Scorpio had not decided to destroy your flagship first." She flashed him a predatory smile, taking a fighting stance. "Things are different now. But I want you to fight me. With the same energy."

Arcann remained still, observing her during a few seconds incredulously, but ended up mirroring her stance. Both remained looking at each other for a time before Arcann eventually decided to attack her. It was a far too obvious blow to her right that Nyx dodged easily by taking a step backwards. She parried two other blows with the same ease, already cursing his lack of fighting spirit.

"Ugh! What the bloody stars is that? This is not how you fought me on your flagship, otherwise you would be dead today. Fight!"

He pulled a face, visibly bothered. "Commander, Lana asked us to make sure you take things slow. I should not even be fighting you right now."

Nyx rolled her eyes, fulminating. She lowered her weapon and made a step forward to get closer to him, looking deeply into his eyes. "I do not care about any instruction that Lana might have given you," she said, pronouncing every word distinctly. "I am here to fight, and you are giving me exactly what I want, otherwise I make sure that you get stuck in the medical bay for a little while."

"Do not threaten me."

Arcann's nostrils flared slightly. He was reacting. Good. Just an additional nudge and she might get where she wanted. He should not be pushed too hard already. Being cleansed of the darkness did not mean being immune to it. She smirked and walked away a little, turning her back to him.

"You asked me once, already. Want to know the real reason why I decided to spare you?" She turned around on her heels, flashing him a triumphant smile. "Pity, I spared you out of mere pity."

He winced clearly this time.

She laughed at him. "Mh, does it sting?"

He grunted. "More than I was expecting."

"Good! Finally pride kicks back! We might be able to do something with you after all!"

Nyx took her fighting stance again, bearing a fairly satisfied smile on her face.

"Now… Fight me."

I also tried really hard to save Comander Rylon. I was rather bummed I couldn’t.

Quinn’s editing was great. Looking forward to seeing where it goes.

Guss! You don’t see a lot of Guss fic, so it was a nice unexpected change of pace. I loved it. Plus is also looked like he crit on the mission and got the bonus goodies!

Drinks: Prompt

I loved the drink name, plus the chorusing droid every time the name is uttered.

This one stuck me as so sad, the unchiming holocoms sitting on the bartop. The drink standing in for the missing comrade.

As for your AN, I agree. I whisky is not a favorite of mine, but every time I happen to see a single malt whisky, I think of my time in Scotland and I smile.

Carrying on: Prompt

Poor Jaesa, things are the ship are not going to be the same.

The walking murder puppet coughing as he passed by in the hall had me chuckling. Taking Pierce and Broonie out with her, to say that is going to be messy, that is an understatement.

Wow, I thought I was bad at having to be on bedrest. Nyx needs to find a hobby to entertain her while she is on restricted exercise. A good datapad game perhaps, maybe knitting.

Hopefully the fight she taunted Arcann into having with her will not put her right back into bed.

On a side note, I have been enjoying your story thread, I haven't had a chance to comment yet, on your thread.

Oh, thank you! I'm trying to do my best, but learning storytelling and trying to improve my english all at the same time.

But you'd better not mention KNITTING to my girl. She should have been more calculating in fact. Keeping Theron just a little while longer, perhaps...

@Lunafox Oh, Quinn had a bad day. On the other hand, in my other Warrior continuity Ghost-Quinn starts off dead, so really, Ruth!verse!Quinn should be happy that all he's getting is several punches. As for Pierce and Jaesa...not touching that with a ten-foot lightsaber

@Kitar I'm always scared when Broonmark is in a good mood, but he can sense the wind changing.

@Iheaca Welcome to the thread!! I love your Outlander's frustration - though in Arcann she just might get the opposition she seems to want. Your English reads very naturally.

Our most prolific authors:

bright_ephemera with *coughcoughkindofashamedtoadmit*

kabeone with 43

iamthehoyden with 40

Morgani and Striges tied with 39

Tatile and Magdalane tied with 37

Among the first 500 stories, 31 authors are represented. A solid 119 of those stories involve kissing. Our favorite non-companion NPC is General Garza with seven appearances; Darth Ravage has five and Lord Zash has four.

Genders of story protag, counted by story

Classes, counted by story

Companions, counted by story

Ladies and gentlemen, we have officially reached ONE THOUSAND STORIES on this thread! The 49 authors of the thread have earned 166,000 pageviews while writing a combined 857,619 words over the past year. That's the word count equivalent of the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy plus the first three and a half Harry Potter books!

The thousandth story, by my count, is YoshiRaphElan's Fame/Heroism. Congratulations!

Some figures from the stories thus far:

Longest: Ereiniel's Teachers and Heroes entry, with 5676 words. The longest multi-post story is Morgani's Brothers and Sisters, which weighs in at 19197 words.

Shortest: Striges' Varrel Umrahiel in Ceremonies, with 42 words. Unless you want to count the single word of Nalenne's contribution to bright_ephemera's four-part Tauntaun Roundup.

Timeline earliest: Striges' Varrel Umrahiel in a First about half a century before the class line.

Timeline latest: kabeone's Lord Scourge in the RemiGrey!verse, with a Worst Day Ever in 281 ATC.

The Old Faithful Club: Five authors have posted at least one story per month ever since the SFC was founded: Tatile, Striges, Magdalane, kabeone, and iamthehoyden.

Kissy couples (5+ stories):

• Miriah Chantalle and Corso Riggs

• Rochester Windthorpe and Broan

• Sana Kaarde and Aric Jorgan

• Ruth Niral and Malavai Quinn

• Vierce Savins and Elara Dorne

• Remi and Lord Scourge

• Ipha Kodrevas and Aric Jorgan

• Geltie and Rylee

• Athra and Malavai Quinn

• Esma Kaarde and Lord Scourge

• Maura Chantalle and Aric Jorgan

We've hosted 63 authors writing a whopping 1,361,388 words. By volume that's equivalent to the entire Harry Potter series, plus The Hobbit and The Fellowship of the Ring.

The 1500th story was YoshiRaphElan's Collections with Quinn and his awards.

Longest: Still Ereiniel's Teachers and Heroes entry, with 5676 words. The longest multi-post story is DarthSillyMonkey's Waking the Sleeping Reaper, which weighs in at 23551 words. (It seems Bounty Hunters inspire volumes.)

Shortest: irishfino's There's No Off Switch with Aldrdinar. Unless you're counting Nalenne's single-word contribution to bright_ephemera's four-part Tauntaun Roundup. (It seems Sith Warriors can get to the point pretty quick when they want to.)

The Old Faithful Club: Striges and kabeone have posted at least one story per month ever since the SFC was founded!

Well Rounded: Striges, Earthmama, and YoshiRaphElan were the only authors to have written about all eight classes.

Featured classes counted by story

Featured companions, with stats and commentary

Most popular prompts

Most popular featured NPCs

Planet settings

Word count distribution

OC species, counted per character (not per story)

OC affiliations, counted per character (not per story)

OC classes, counted per character (not per story)

OC classes and genders, counted per character (not per story)

See You Around, Space Cowboy: We've added ten Bounty Hunters since the 1000 mark!

Fancy Meeting You Here: Every two-class crossover combination has appeared on this thread.

Diversity in Action: bright_ephemera has recurring characters of 8 species, Striges of (at least) 6, Tatile of (at least) 5.

Represent: Our one-off species representatives among 3+ story recurring characters are kabeone’s Master Xin the Kel Dor, bright_ephemera’s Master Zauvien the Togruta, Mrtwo’s Kouhun the Rattataki, Mrtwo’s Rizantos Terso (Rizz) the Sullustan, and YoshiRaphElan’s T8-H4 (Tate) the droid.

Tell Me The Odds: Throw a dart at this thread and there's an 11.1% chance you'll hit Quinn!

Kissy Couples (more than five stories):

• Miriah/Corso (Magdalane)

• Rochester/Broan (Tatile)

• Maura/Jorgan (Magdalane)

• Sana/Jorgan (iamthehoyden)

• Esma/Scourge (iamthehoyden)

• Ruth/Quinn (bright_ephemera)

• Remi/Scourge (kabeone)

• Athra/Quinn (irishfino)

• Ipha/Jorgan (Morgani)

• Vierce/Elara (bright_ephemera)

• Kinka/Vector (marissalf)

• Geltie/Rylee (irishfino)

• Bella/Corso (alaurin)

• Ayrs/Elara (Lesaberisa)

Most Active Companions (by number of characters hooked up with them):

• Quinn: 10

• Corso: 9

• Vector: 8

• Jorgan: 6

• Kaliyo: 5

• Pierce: 5

• Mako: 5

• Vette: 5

72 authors, of whom 56 are repeat contributors, have joined in the fun, generating in total 3.17 stories per day, adding up to a whopping 1,888,871 words. By volume that's equivalent to the entire Harry Potter series, the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy, and the entire Hunger Games trilogy.

Longest: The longest outside a series is Ereiniel’s Teachers and Heroes at 5676 words. The longest multi-post story is DarthSillyMonkey's The Fenn’rys Jobs, which weighs in at 40219 words.

Shortest: irishfino's There's No Off Switch with Aldrdinar. Unless you're counting Nalenne's single-word contribution to bright_ephemera's four-part Tauntaun Roundup.

The Old Faithful Club: Striges and kabeone have posted at least one story per month ever since the SFC was founded!

Popular Prompts

Word Count Distribution

Stories Per Month

Author Word Count

Classes By Story Count and Spoilers

Classes by Word Count

Broken down from the graph above…Story classes and word count with three most prolific characters per class:

• Trooper: 446907 words (driven by Mallayse Lauren (alaurin), Vierce Savins (bright_ephemera), and Tiannya Valeskanovaya (alaurin))
  
• Bounty Hunter: 381815 words (driven by Drokk’it (DarthSillyMonkey), Katrynka Valeskanovaya (alaurin), and Jesp Rixik (Striges))
  
• Agent: 376013 words (driven by Wynston (bright_ephemera), Kinka Stormageddon (marissalf), and Fenn’rys (DarthSillyMonkey))
  
• Smuggler: 365433 words (driven by Valaya Tarenz (alaurin), Belladonya Lauren (alaurin), and Miriah Chantalle (Magdalane))
  
• Warrior: 284712 words (driven by Ruth Niral (bright_ephemera), Varrel Umrahiel (Striges), and Mellekor (bright_ephemera))
  
• Knight: 204223 words (driven by Remi Syeriy (kabeone), Maldecka the Kid (Lady-Jean), and Jasin (YoshiRaphElan))
  
• Inquisitor: 127534 words (driven by Ananz (bright_ephemera), Xania (Selentar), and Veresia Martell (Lesaberisa))
  
• Consular: 102893 words (driven by Jurial (Striges), Shira’Kian (DarthSillyMonkey), and Allissya Lauren (alaurin))
  

(This adds up to more than the 1.8 million full-thread total because stories featuring two classes are counted for each class.)

OCs by Class

OCs by Class and Gender

OC Species

OCs by Affiliation

Planet Settings

Companions with commentary

Featured NPCs

Companion Hookups

Well Rounded: Striges, Earthmama, Lesaberisa, DarthSillyMonkey, and YoshiRaphElan have each written about all eight classes.

Our 2300th story is Mirdthestrill’s Description for Kiarn Skyfall.

84 authors, of whom 66 are repeat contributors, have joined in the fun, generating in total 2.4 stories per day, adding up to a whopping 2,368,763 words. By volume that's equivalent to the entire Harry Potter series, the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy, the entire Hunger Games trilogy, and the entire Dune trilogy.

Longest: The longest outside a series is alaurin’s No Rest for the Wicked, at 6668 words. The longest multi-post story is DarthSillyMonkey's The Fenn’rys Jobs, which weighs in at 40219 words.

Shortest: irishfino’s 19-word There’s No Off Switch with Aldrdinar.

Longest: The longest outside a series is alaurin’s No Rest for the Wicked, at 6668 words. The longest multi-post story is DarthSillyMonkey's The Fenn’rys Jobs, which weighs in at 40219 words.

Shortest: irishfino’s 19-word There’s No Off Switch with Aldrdinar.

Popular Prompts

Word Count Distribution

Stories by Month

Authors by Word Count

Classes and Spoilers by Story Count

Classes by Word Count

Broken down from the graph above…Story classes and word count with three most prolific characters per class:

• Trooper: 535204 words (driven by Mallayse Lauren (alaurin), Tiannya Valeskanovaya (alaurin), and Vierce Savins (bright_ephemera))
  
• Bounty Hunter: 506663 words (driven by Drokk’it (DarthSillyMonkey), Katrynka Valeskanovaya (alaurin), and Jesp Rixik (Striges))
  
• Agent: 470801 words (driven by Wynston (bright_ephemera), Kinka Stormageddon (marissalf), and Fenn’rys (DarthSillyMonkey))
  
• Smuggler: 418723 words (driven by Valaya Tarenz (alaurin), Belladonya Lauren (alaurin), and Jaxzin (alaurin))
  
• Warrior: 371323 words (driven by Ciner (frauzet), Ruth NIral (bright_ephemera), and Varrel Umrahiel (Striges))
  
• Knight: 292944 words (driven by Remi Syeriy (kabeone), Roslynd Lauren (alaurin), and Maldecka the Kid(Lady-Jean))
  
• Inquisitor: 181110 words (driven by Rufuro (frauzet), Ananz (bright_ephemera), and Xania (Selentar))
  
• Consular: 185061 words (driven by Ka’van (Kitar), Jurial (Striges), and Feyte Saien (MIrdthestrill))
  

(This adds up to more than the 2.3 million full-thread total because stories featuring two classes are counted for each class.)

OCs by Class and Gender

OC Species

OC Affiliations

Planet Settings

Companions

Featured NPCs

Companion Hookups

OCs (Original Characters):

The Gang’s All Here: More than 615 uniquely named OCs have appeared on the thread!

Please Stand Up: The only repeated names have been Jack, Rose, and Amurri.

Room for Growth: Only one new Inquisitor has taken up residence in the last 300 stories. The fastest-growing crowds were the Warrior and Consular, which got five and six new characters.

Why, Hello There: Every two-class crossover combination has appeared on this thread.

Undeclared: 81 of our recurring OCs – 42 men, 37 women, 2 droids – stand outside a class role.

You Can’t Get There From Here: Thanks to YoshiRaphElan, Toprawa is the most popular fic location that cannot be reached in game.

Meet You There Anyway: Three non-game systems have attracted more than one author: Dantooine, Mirial and Mandalore.

Assemble the Team: Starting from the top, you would need to recruit all the way down to Vector (9th place) to get all party roles (melee DPS, ranged DPS, melee tank, ranged tank, healer).

Tell Me The Odds: Throw a dart at this thread and there's an 11.0% chance you'll hit Jorgan. There’s a 9.4% chance you'll hit Quinn. There’s a 0.3% chance you’ll hit both Jorgan and Quinn!

You Cannot Rid Yourself Of Me So Easily: Now and for the whole history of the thread to date, Lord Scourge is the most popular non-love-interest companion. (Non-LI in game, at least.)

Sir Not Appearing In… The most popular Smuggler-specific NPC is Darmas Pollaran, who appears in three stories. All other classes have representatives in the above chart.

"Baras is a lunatic and a moron," Agent Dellacon insisted, his words dripping with venomous hatred, "I was a faithful servant for years; my cover was in tact. You can't expect me to just sit back and wait for death because he's paranoid."

"It's not nearly that simple," Pansey tried to explain, "The Jedi have an agent that can read minds. No secrets remain safe. Lord Rathari cannot protect you from their prying eyes."

"No," Agent Dellacon admits, "But he can protect me from you. In a hundred years, Lord Rathari will be a legend, and your master, Darth Baras, will barely be a footnote in the history of the Empire."

Pansey fumed. Agent Dellacon had worked under Darth Baras for years. "Liar!" Pansey barked back, "Darth Baras will change the Empire for the better. His influence is felt everywhere. And his secrets cannot fall into the hands of the Jedi."

"Yet I know so many of those delicious secrets," Agent Dellacon offered up with a sinister grin, "And once Lord Rathari dispatches of you, all of those secrets will belong to him. Die knowing that the mind-reading Jedi is the least of Baras's concerns. Lord Rathari will be privy to Darth Baras's deepest, darkest secrets, and Lord Rathari will destroy Baras long before the Jedi even know who I am. You fight for a lost cause, and you throw away your life for nothing."

"Unlike you, coward, I am not afraid to die for what I believe in," Pansey seethed with anger at the Agent's bold insolence. Pansey had done her best to spare lives wherever possible, following in Darth Baras's wise example that it was better to find an ally than to leave a corpse. She had no great network of spies, but she had endeavored to build good will wherever possible, showing the galaxy a more merciful, practical Empire. Even when Lord Rathari had slaughtered poor Hallidrell Setsyn, Pansey still wished to give them a chance at redemption. But Agent Dellacon was beyond redemption. He stood in open defiance of Darth Baras, proudly declaring his intentions to be the instrument of destroying all hope for the future, and that was something the Pink Apprentice, Pansey, could simply not allow.

Her thumb pressed the side of her shortened pink lightsaber and her blade clashed with Lord Rathari. Their duel was an epic display, with Rathari striving to warrant his place as a full-fledged Sith Lord, while the young apprentice refused to yield an inch, fighting tooth and nail, not just for her own life, but for peace and equality and everything Darth Baras stood for.

And yet, the best of intentions and the noblest of causes still could not prepare a novice apprentice to duel against a full-fledged Lord of the Sith. Lord Rathari's lightsaber struck true and Pansey fell, laying bloody and struggling to breath on the rooftop platform of E dock.

"And now you die," Lord Rathari boasted, "Unlike Baras, I do not leave loose ends." What could Pansey possibly do to carry onward?

"If there's one thing Baras taught me.." Pansey wheezed, grimacing in pain, her hand clenched over the saber wound to her side, "It's that sometimes friends can be found in the most unlikely of places."

Pansey pressed a button on the holo-communicator on her belt. Commander Naughlen and his Republic commandos rappelled to the platform, cutting their tethers and opening fire in a barrage of blaster fire. Lord Rathari stumbled, parrying blaster fire desperately while being forced backward one step at a time. Pansey rose back to her feet, igniting her lightsaber again and soaring through the air, crashing down blade against blade with Lord Rathari, locking him into a clench while the blaster fire struck him, first to the shoulder, and then to the knee. His cybernetics malfunctioned, his body betraying him, and Lord Rathari dropped to his knees, teetering on the edge of the sky platform.

"Wait," he begged, "Don't kill me."

Pansey had her humming pink lightsaber resting near the side of Lord Rathari's neck. "Commander Naughlen," Pansey called out to the Republic officer, "Your men performed admirably. I killed an Imperial General to save you and your men; now you downed a Sith Lord to save me and mine. Your debt to me is repaid. Tend to your wounded; I can ask no more of you."

"Commander," one of the Republic Troopers said in hushed tones, "The Sith is wounded. We could kill them both. Strike a real blow for the Republic."

"No. Stand down, men," Commander Naughlen ordered, "This Sith saved us from certain death. The Empire needs men and women like her if we ever hope to see peace in our future. Gather the wounded; we tend to our own. Fair well, Sith."

"The name's Pansey," she smiled at her Republic ally, "And while you owe me nothing, you have my Holo-frequency. Let me know if there is anything I can ever do for you. As long as it doesn't oppose the Empire-"

"Or you the Republic, likewise," Commander Naughlen pledged.

Pansey swung her gaze back around to Lord Rathari. "So, my Lord," she offered with a sarcastic smile, "What is to be done now?"

Lord Rathari didn't wait for directions. With a thrust of his hand, he summoned the force, shoving the cowering Agent Dellacon off of the sky platform and sending him plummeting to his death. "Darth Baras was right," Lord Rathari obediently pledged, "I apologize for shielding his rogue agent, and I took the man's life myself to prove my sincerity. I know your master called for my destruction, but I swear, should you decide not to strike me dead this day, I will forever be your loyal and faithful servant. Never have I seen one so young and untrained command the force with such power, and never have I seen one so faithful and sincere manage to turn enemies into allies. While my fellow Sith Lords plot against each other, you build something far greater than any one man. And I would give anything to be a part of it."

Pansey extended her hand, clapping grip with him and assisting him back to his feet. "Baras never said he needed you dead," Pansey admitted, "Only that he needed your power base disassembled. And one would be a fool to disassemble something so fine and not preserve it's most useful parts."

"I live to serve you," Lord Rathari swore.

"And I live to serve the Empire," Pansey smiled back in return.

“Welcome back, Master” chirped C2 as the hatch hissed shut behind Photin. “I hope your mission was a success...oh, excuse me!” A slight shudder passed through the droid before it spoke again. “Ah, now that my olfactory sensors have adjusted, allow me to suggest an immediate shower, while I attend to your, ah, urgent laundry needs.” Photin let loose a weary sigh, but said nothing, heading down the corridor to her cabin. C2 shuffled behind her, “May I relieve you of your burden? I can store it carefully until you are ready...”

Photin clutched the large box to her chest. “No, no, I got this,” she replied, “you just go get the cleaner ready.” Qyzen rounded the corner and raised one hand in greeting before the smell hit him. He uttered a gravelly choking sound and retreated before Photin could reply. Reaching her cabin, she turned to C2, who was still hovering at her elbow. “And hold my comms; if it's not the Grandmaster herself, I'm not available for the next hour.”

The closing door cut off any reply, and Photin slumped wearily against it. She too could smell the pungent odor of Quesh infusing her clothes and even her skin - there was no getting away from it on that planet, especially when she'd had to go deep into the mines to stop the Empire's saboteurs. Between Jedi discipline and Healer training, bad smells weren't normally a problem; but it was different when you had to live with them all day for days on end, and they came from your own clothes. Even standard breath masks couldn't filter out the minerals and pollens that made Quesh adrenals so potent, and they got into everything. Even the crews and garrisons got tired of complaining about the stench.

After a long moment of just resting, Photin opened her eyes and hefted the package she was carrying. A smile formed on her face as she checked the tiny monitors on the box. “Nice,” she remarked to no one, “atmosphere and everything is in good shape.” She set the box down gently on her desk and admired it. “Can't wait to install this, but I have got to get clean first!”

Several minutes later, after an extremely long shower, she again stood by the desk, wearing a simple – but clean, praise the stars! - tan bathrobe, her hair bundled up in a towel. From one of the desk drawers she produced a pair of close-fitting gloves, snapped them on, then pulled out a breath filter and fixed it in place. “Now,” she said, picking up the box, “let's find you a new home!” Pausing only to nudge her feet into a pair of slippers, she carried the box over to a vaultlike door marked with biohazard symbols. Balancing the box on a hip, she keyed in an access code, and the airtight seal on the vault hissed before sliding open.

She stepped in and elbowed the switch to close the vault door behind her. The pressure change on her eardrums felt like a signal, and she breathed a deep sigh of relief. Here, locked away from the galaxy, everything was at peace, everything was in good order. She surveyed the array of containment cells built into the walls, varying in size from a cubic decimeter to a few the size of standard home food-storage units. Each had a viewing portal and an array of environmental indicators. She walked slowly along each wall, surveying her collection. Nothing moved in any of them; only a few ere empty; the rest had a landscape of sand, mud or rock, marked only by a sickly patch of mold, or a unsettling spore pod, or a bulbous growth of some unappetizing color. In more than one cell there were bones of some tiny animal, or part of an animal, around which the growths clustered. She finally stopped at an empty cell about the same size as the box she carried.

“This one will do perfectly!” she said, smiling behind her mask. Setting the box down on a shelf, she keyed in a series of data points. It took her some time, but eventually she finished and the system stood ready. Carefully Photin opened the box and with gloved hands lifted a slimy, bulbous thing from the box into the container, holding her breath. The too-familiar and disgusting odor of Quesh atmosphere filled the air as she placed the thing tenderly into the new cell, along with a few handfuls of rock and soil she also transferred from the box. Then she shut the cell and the box, and the cell began working to recreate the atmosphere of Quesh for the new addition.

Photin admired her new acquisition for several minutes, watching the chemical readings as they approached a close duplicate of Quesh inside the cell. The cell took on a faint orange tint. “Welcome home, Mister Q,” she said, giggling. “Computer, new item is a Queshian Slime Devil – that's its common name, of course, I haven't looked up its scientific name yet. I believe it's a kind of slime mold. Quite toxic; I saw the effects of its excretions on a poor miner just yesterday. But it should be a fine addition to my collection, yes?” The computer beeped in response, and a red glowing skull-and-crossbones appeared in one corner of the cell monitor, the same way several other cells bore the same warning label. With a bright, refreshed smile, Photin turned to the rest of her collection. “Now, how are the rest of my lovely pets?” She began to go from one to the next, observing and cooing over the slime, mushrooms, mold, and other fungi in each one.

Oooohhhhh more stats! I do love them. The powers that be for some reason took away our ability to post images. So the FanArt section just isn't the sane anymore.

I was also grinning like a fool when I saw the dear Ginger was leading for JC stories. Now I want to write more Ka'van fic.

I have always enjoyed that part of the SW story. Honestly I do not think I have ever killed either of them off.

I liked it, and the crew's reaction to her arrival. I have to wonder, does anyone know about Photin's little collection? And what does she do with them? Just collect and study them? I'll also wager she is a biochemist to. Is there a containment process in place in case something gets out?