He didn’t want to talk about this. He really, really didn’t want to talk about this. Ald was insistent, however, but this conversation could only end badly. Was it curiosity? The fact that nothing had actually been solved by Ald’s forgiveness and his leaving? Ald didn’t want to have this conversation in the Conference Room. Too many good memories there. Ald decided to have the conversation in his bedroom. This could end one of two ways: they came to furious blows or furious f– focus.

“We’ve never had a serious discussion over what happened,” Ald said quietly. “Given the circumstances and the things that have come about because of your betrayal, I felt we should discuss the matter. Fully.”

“I don’t think this is the best place for this conversation, my Lord,” Quinn replied stiffly. Really, there was no right place for this conversation, but the bedroom certainly was low on the list of The Right Place to Talk About Stabbing People in the Back.

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“I noticed.”

“Then talk, tell me why you went along with it. I think I deserve that much.”

“I’m not yet fully healed, my Lord, and Aldra is still on the ship. Perhaps there’s a better time-”

“Talk!” Ald shouted.

Quinn jumped slightly. He had only seen Ald angry in battle. If he was this worked up already… it did not bode well for his physical health. He shifted his weight from foot to foot before clasping his hands behind his back. He wasn’t standing at parade rest, but he was awfully close.

“You said before this was a matter of pride, that this wasn’t personal, but it was. You tried to kill me on Baras’ order because he saved your career, because he revived your career,” Ald said matter-of-factly.

“That was part of it,” Quinn said quietly. “I admit, I took what I thought was a sure thing. I picked my career over my… feelings. You have to understand, my Lord, I was on Balmorra for ten years. Every avenue of advancement, of reassignment, of actual usefulness to the Empire was blocked off quite thoroughly. I was black listed and it’s likely my name was added to an auto-reject list when I submitted my requests for testing into high positions within the military.”

“You didn’t have faith in me then,” Ald said. “You sided with Baras because you thought I was going to be defeated by him.”

“I had seen him in action, my Lord. He had decades of experience on you and a very large powerbase. I was a pawn in his schemes and I accepted this for the chance to get off Balmorra, to restart my career and get back to the station I deserved.” Quinn shifted out of his stance and let his arms hang at his sides. “Balmorra signaled the end of many things for me. Baras offered me the chance to change parts of my past and no one was going to get in my way. Not even you.”

“You’re pathetic,” Ald spat angrily.

“Yes,” Quinn said numbly. “I am pathetic and selfish and to be pitied. I am a terrible person undeserving of trust and yet here I am, in your bedroom, laying out why I did what I did.” Quinn made a slashing motion with one of his arms. “At least I realize how pathetic I am. At least I’m not trying to justify letting a person rejoin my crew after doing what I did to them. At least I didn’t destroy a friendship and break someone’s heart to let in a person who –”

Quinn didn’t have time to react to Ald’s quick punch. Ald caught Quinn just under his chin. His head snapped to the side and he stumbled briefly to regain his balance. It was enough of an opening to allow Ald to punch him in the stomach. He doubled over and charged forward, tackling Ald through coughs and pain. The pair rolled on the floor, swinging and kicking and head butting until they were out of breath and exhausted and hurting and mentally drained. Ald sat on Quinn’s torso and waited for the man to catch his breath before hitting him in the face again.

“Stop,” Quinn panted as he struggled for breath. “I yield.”

“You should have yielded on the Transponder Station!” Ald huffed angrily.

“I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“My son,” Quinn said quietly. “Baras said-” Quinn shifted and grunted, trying to find a comfortable spot for his chest to expand. Ald didn’t move. “- said he could get me an audience with him.”

“He used your son to manipulate you?” Ald asked incredulously.

“Is it any surprise?”

“I suppose not.”

“Balmorra… I wanted off that planet, no matter the cost. I had lost so much there. I was resigned to waiting until Broysc died when Baras made his offer. I couldn’t – ah –” Quinn shifted again. This time Ald moved to one side and sat on the floor. Quinn was quick to sit up. “I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. He’s my son.”

“You should have said something.”

“I couldn’t risk it."

“Would you like to see him?” Ald asked quietly.

“Of course I do,” Quinn said sadly. “I don’t have access to Korriban, however.”

“It’s a good thing you know the Wrath, then, isn’t it?”

“I…” Quinn trailed off and looked at a far wall that was suddenly far, far more interesting than anything else happening in the room.

“You’re too proud to ask or perhaps you fear I will say no even though I am offering,” Ald said quietly.

“It’s fear,” Quinn said honestly.

“We will arrive at Korriban in fifteen hours. Prepare yourself, Captain.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

It was time.

I was about to press the door chime, but it slid open. Kaaste was standing in the doorway.

I bowed. "You summoned me, milord?" It was not often that Sith invited others to their personal residence.

He chuckled. "No need to be so formal."

"I. . ." I paused, and then bowed my head. "Yes, milord." It was difficult to circumvent a lifetime of conditioning.

The Sith stood aside and motioned for me to enter. "Don't just stand there, come in."

As I crossed through the threshold into the apartment, I marveled at how luxurious it was. The one on Nar Shadaa had been nice, yes, but only by Nar Shadaa standards. Dromund Kaas, in contrast, spared no expense for the Sith. The room was decorated with the finest of furniture, draperies, and decorations. There was even an ancient artifact or two. I was, frankly, awed by it all.

Kaaste had walked over to the kitchen area and opened the fridge. "Can I get you something to drink?" I had never heard of a Sith offering a force-blind a drink, let alone to make one himself. "A Huttese Sunrise, perhaps?"

"My throat is still recovering from the last one, milord."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure it was from the Sunrise?"

"Quite sure. Though my jaw is another story entirely."

He laughed. "Perhaps a Darkside Daiquiri?"

I smiled. "Please."

He threw one together making use of telekinesis. No doubt it was meant to impress me. Which it did. This sort of behavior was unheard of in a Sith.

I accepted the drink and raised it in a toast. "To the Sith."

He matched it with his own. "To Imperial Intelligence."

We clinked glasses and drank. The daiquiri had a remarkable taste and was quite palatable. I would have to make a note of it. "So. . ." I took another sip. "What did you want to talk about?"

"First, I'd like to apologize for the holocall."

I choked on my drink. A Sith apologizing? Impossible. "W-whatever for?" I asked, once I had regained my composure.

He took a sip of his drink. "Well, I did nearly reveal how we spent the night together to an audience."

"No apology needed, my lord." I said. "Keeper barely raised an eyebrow."

He laughed and then held his glass with both hands. "I also wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed that night." His cheeks began to redden. "It's just that. . . most people only see me as a Sith."

"If it is any consolation, my lord, I see you as more than that. We're compatriots."

He looked up. "You don't fear me?"

I hesitated. My next words could very well have been my last. "Why should I, my lord?" I closed my eyes and prepared for my fate. Most Sith would have struck me down.

Instead, he pulled me in and kissed me. I was so caught by surprise that It took me a full minute to fully realize what happened. When we separated, my heart was racing, and we were both breathing heavily.

He let me go and sighed. "Most people look at me in fear, and other Sith view me as nothing but a rival." He paused. "You're the first person to look beyond that."

This time, I pulled him in for a kiss. "You're no ordinary Sith."

When I pulled away, he couldn't help but grin. "And you're no ordinary Agent."

This was incredibly difficult for me to write. It took a completely different direction than I originally intended, and writing the Sith/Imperial dynamic is difficult at best. Still, I think I did a good job. I hope y'all enjoyed!

Vette was understandably pissed when Quinn showed his face four months after leaving. She was even more so pissed when she found out Jaesa was the one who blabbed Ald’s location. Who the hell did she think she was? She had no right to interfere, no matter how apologetic that stupid son of a b*tch made himself out to be. He wasn’t a victim, he was the perpetrator and a failure at that.

Vette raged for days after Quinn’s return to the ship. It was sudden and disruptive. They had a routine down and now he was back to muck it up and boss everyone around like he owned the place. She’d just as soon stick a knife in him, but, for Ald, she refrained. It was the only thing that saved him those first few tense weeks. She wanted him off the ship and out of their lives. Things were fine now. Things were better than fine and he had no spot in any of this. But Ald. Damn him. For all his silliness, his mercy, his kind nature, he was stupid. He was stupid as hell and he was ruining things. It would never end. Quinn would just do this again, she knew he would. There wasn’t a consequence for his actions. Ald forgave him, patted him on the butt when he left and told him to come back when he was ready, and was more than happy to take him back without so much as a raised voice, an arched brow, anything! It frustrated her beyond measure.

When she encountered that son of a b*tch alone in the med bay one morning, it took all she had to keep from blasting him to the void and back. He was taking inventory for the fifth damn time this week. How much did one ship need? If she thought about it, they needed a lot. Between Pierce’s bombs and Broonmark’s need to stab things – that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was that she was angry and damn him if he got upset that she was interrupting his inventory. She knocked on the doorframe harder than necessary and was mildly surprised when Quinn turned around without grumbling. He was expecting her. Bastard.

“I’m not talking to Ald until you leave,” Vette said firmly.

“That is between the two of you. Do not involve me in this squabble,” Quinn said stiffly. He slipped his datapad into his pocket, leaned against the counter, and crossed his arms.

“You are involved!” she spat angrily. “You’re right in the kriffin’ middle of it!”

“Lord Aldrdinar has clearly drawn the line between us,” he said grimly. “There is nothing there. Continue as you have been.”

“That’s funny, because as soon as you boarded the ship, Ald sat me down. We had a nice long talk about our future together and – get this – there isn’t one!”

“This doesn’t involve me in the slightest, Vette.”

“It does so stop denying it! You ran once, you should run again. Things will go back to normal without you here. Until then, I’m not talking to Ald.”

“I’m not sure why you’re telling me this,” Quinn said stiffly.

“Because you care about him even if you are a twit and me not talking to him is going to bother him and, in turn, bother you. Two birds, one stone,” Vette spat viciously.

Quinn had to admit that a vindictive Vette was an interesting and cunning Vette, but going through Ald to get to him seemed needless and messy. On the other hand, attacking him through Ald wouldn’t be interpreted as a direct attack and was, therefore, unpunishable. He felt the need to applaud her and he did so, slowly.

“A most wonderful plan,” he said blandly. “I’m surprised you thought of it.”

“F**k you, Quinn.”

“Oh, I do believe I already am in such a state, but thank you for the well-wishing. Now, if you are done being a brat, I have things to do.”

He didn’t wait for her to respond, he simply straightened his stance and turned around. She was dismissed and she knew it, but he didn’t have the right to dismiss her. She left before her trigger finger got too itchy. It didn’t matter, she had drawn the battle lines, even informed him of it. It would eat at him and, eventually and for Ald’s sake, he would leave and things would go back to how they were when the bastard left the first time.

Grumpy Vette is pissed right the hell off.

Nadras had all but lost his army, his accounts were cleared out, his escape routes blocked. It was time to strike.

Skari picked up the flimsy sitting on top of the console. A young man, skinny, big ears, freckles, but the set of his chin and the slant of his eyes marked him as related to their resident tracker. Last one on her list. Regret was a terrible thing. Skari shook her head, putting the flimsy back on the pile. She'd been so f**king stupid, so blind to what she was doing. Justified ruthlessness with easy words that didn't stand up to serious examination. It wasn't enough, but she'd make it as right as she could.

"Hey, ran the last set of names," Gault said, walking in and dropping a datapad in her lap, "they all cleared the system except these fourteen. You okay?" He frowned.

"I'm fine," she said, looking over the names as she set the flimsy down.

"You sure? Has he been bothering you? I can still have him taken out, won't be a problem."

She laughed, not looking up. "No. Let's not."

She could feel Gault's eyes on her, his gaze narrow and suspicious. "Something going on with him?"

"What? No!" She swallowed and grimaced, peering up at him. "Maybe?"

The Devaronian groaned. "Bad idea, Magrave, bad idea."

She sighed. "Probably. But maybe this will work."

Crae walked through the door and looked from Skari to Gault, his gaze steady and intense. Skari shifted a little. Maybe it would work.

Crae leaned over and picked up the flimsy at her console. He looked at his brother's face.

"I'm sorry." It wasn't enough, but she had to say it, even given the Devaronian death glare she was getting from Gault.

He smiled slightly, "He would have liked you."

Her eyes stung, tears forming in the corners. She wiped them away quickly. She met Crae's golden eyes and was struck by the understanding in them. He'd been...wonderful. And maybe, once this was done, maybe he'd want to stay. He kept talking about the future, about 'we.' She sucked in a breath at the thought. It was almost too much to hope for - a guy who wasn't scared of her, of what she did. Sure, he was still weird. Had been talking about raptors and building nests the night before, but that was Crae. He still startled her, unsettled her, but mostly he made her happy.

Mako, followed by Torian and Blizz, filed in. Mako plopped down into the seat next to Skari. "So, oh mighty strategist," she said to Crae, "what's the plan?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes becoming cold, as though he were going into battle. Skari frowned a bit as he pulled out his knife, shifting it back and forth in his hands as he did when he was thinking. "Caution," he said.

Skari raised an eyebrow. He looked tense, his eyes on her, not nearly as smooth and cool as usual, as he flipping his knife end over end. "Caution?" The plan was sound. They'd been over it time and again, they'd checked everything. She frowned at him.

"Things could go badly, someone should stay behind, in case." Flip. Flip.

"You think we missed something?" Skari asked, looking over the mountains of data they'd accumulated over the past weeks.

"No," he said slowly, "I just don't want you taking the risk. I think it would be better if Torian took point on this. You coordinate from here."

Skari started laughing. "Sh*t, for a second I thought you were serious."

He glared at her. "I am serious."

She waved her hand in disgust. "It's a dozen f**king guards! I could take out that many in my sleep! We take a couple missile launchers, a pile of grenades, strap on the beskar and walk through the front door."

Crae stabbed a finger at the front entrance. "It's stupid to walk in. You'll be exposed, vulnerable. I'll sneak in and kill him, Torian and Mako can keep the guards busy at the front."

Skari rolled her eyes at him. "What are you? Imperial Intelligence?"

He glared at her. Skari could see Gault looking from one to the other with increasing concern. Blizz was chittering nervously in the silence. Torian stood, arms crossed at the door, while Mako busied herself stacking flimsies at the console.

"You can forget that sh*t," she glared, standing and crossing her arms, "I'm going in."

"I can't convince you to do this the smart way, can I? Stubborn as a reek." Crae snapped at her.

She ignored him. "We go in tomorrow. Have your sh*t together, people."

The group dispersed. Mako and Torian left together: Mako speaking in low, tense tones; Torian not speaking. Gault frowned at Skari and Crae, but headed out, snagging a datapad as he went. Blizz patted her arm and trundled off.

As soon as the room was clear Crae pulled Skari to him, his grip painful on her arm. "This is dangerous, you could get hurt," he growled at her.

She frowned up at him. "This is what I do, Crae. There's always a chance I could get hurt."

He ran his fingers through her hair, pulling her to him, kissing her thoroughly, hungrily. He rested his forehead against hers. "I couldn't stand it if something happened to you," he whispered, "just stay here, let me take Nadras out."

She jerked back, a scowl on her face. "What kind of bullsh*t is this?" She looked up at him and then hugged his tense body close. "I'll be fine. Ok? Besides, you'll be there to watch my back."

He wrapped his arms around her tightly and then pulled back, looked into her eyes. "I'll keep you safe. I promise." It was a vow.

Why are some scenes so hard to write? Invisible internal dialogue really makes things difficult.

Skari groaned and opened her eyes. Her head was fuzzy, like she'd gotten into Gault's stash. She peered around and saw force field and beyond that, the familiar walls of the ship. The cage. She was in the f**king cage.

She sat up slowly, pushing her hair out of her face. Where was her crew? She stilled her movements, listening for any sounds of them in the ship, but could hear nothing beyond the whir of the engine and the normal creak of metal struts.

She'd been changing, in her room, and then...she rubbed her face, trying to focus. The hiss of the airlock opening pulled her attention. The lean, blood-spattered, brown figure that walked through the door was all too familiar after all this time, but the look in his eyes was feral. A look she hadn't seen in a long time. He dropped a bag he'd been carrying on the floor.

"What is this, Crae?" she demanded. She struggled to get to her feet but fell, banging her head against the floor.

Crae rushed to the cage and lowered the force field, pulling her into his arms, checking her head. She struggled to push him away, her limbs reluctantly following her commands, her head aching. "Shhh," he said, "It's okay. You're safe."

"Get the f**k away from me," she snapped, pushing him away clumsily.

His jaw clenched. "I didn't want to restrain you, but it was the only way to keep you safe."

"Where the f**k is my crew?" she snarled at him, holding still, feeling weak and hating it.

"They're safe."

"Where. The F**k. Are They."

He frowned. "Safe."

"Nadras?"

"Dead."

Skari looked at Crae's stern face, all humor gone from it, nothing but grim determination, and swallowed. The dream was clearly over. "You planning to kill me?"

"No!" The denial burst out of him as though it were unthinkable. He reached out to touch her hair, his gaze softening. "I could never hurt you. I love you. I want you with me always. My mate."

"You're crazy," she whispered in horror, her volume growing louder as she spoke, "you thought I'd stay with you after this? You locked me up! Put me in a F**KING CAGE!"

"Skari...."

"Get out," she said, getting to her feet.

"Sweetheart..."

"Out." Her glare blazed.

He took a breath, his gaze hardening. "I didn't want to do this, but you've left me no choice." He shook his head, a sad look on his face. "I can't let you go."

"Like hell." She exploded. Her body wasn't one hundred percent, but it was fast recovering, and she'd always been good at fighting when her freedom depended on it.

Skari slammed a fist into his liver. It was an incapacitating shot normally, the type that left a man gasping for air. Her body wasn't cooperating however, and the power needed to take him down just wasn't there. He tried to grab her arms, lock her in tight. Didn't want to hurt her apparently. She bared her teeth. Too bad for him, she wasn't in the same merciful state.

"Skari, w-" His words were cut short by a brutal kick to his leg and then a better punch, a more powerful one, to his ribs.

He spun, moving out of her range, but she moved with him, her reflexes kicking in. She leapt onto his back, locking her limbs around him. Arched back and unbalanced him enough to bring him to the floor, his weight crushing her lungs for a moment. She locked a forearm across his neck, squeezing the very air out of him.

"Stop. Crew," he choked out. Skari paused her choke hold, letting off the pressure slightly. "Would kill the crew."

She rolled them, coming up on top of Crae, straddling his body, ready to elbow him across the face if he tried anything. "What the f**k are you talking about?"

He was breathing heavily, but his eyes were steady, as determined as she'd ever seen them. "I won't let you go," he said.

"You can't keep me," she snarled, "what did you mean when you said 'kill the crew'? What did you do to my people?"

"Monitor, on the datapad," he nodded towards the bag he'd dropped when he walked through the door.

She watched him sharply as she reached out and snagged the bag, pulling it over to her. The datapad was on top. She flipped it on and lost her ability to breathe.

He'd caged them all.

Four screens. Four cages in what looked like an old Imperial installation to judge by the Imperial crests on everything. Mako was crying on a makeshift bunk, her head in her hands. Torian was pacing, running a hand through his hair, punching the wall every so often in frustration. Gault was standing still, his arms crossed, head down. And Blizz, Blizz was lying on the ground, examining the forcefield generators in the floor.

"What is this?" she asked in disbelief.

"They'll be safe," he said, "they'll be safe as long as you stay with me."

A huge weight crushed her chest. A nightmare come to life, that's what he was. "What?"

He reached towards her face. She snapped her head back. "I can't lose you," he whispered. "I have to put in a code," he said, "every day. To keep food coming and their air vented. Otherwise..."

"They'll die," she said, the full extent of his plan sinking in. She looked at the monitors. He held their lives in his hands. She looked back at him, at the feral determination in his eyes. He'd do it. He'd kill them.

Despair crushed her chest, making it hard to breathe. She'd let this monster into their lives. Let him into her heart. Every part of this was her fault. It had been nothing but a dream. Fooling herself the whole time, thinking she could keep them safe. She couldn't keep anyone safe. Anyone close to her got hurt, and she should have known that by now.

So stupid.

Had let him in. Should have known. Attraction should have been enough of a warning, but no, she had to hope. Stupid hope.

Always the stupid with that man.

And the people who depended on her would pay. She'd let them down. So badly. Her shoulders slumped, and she let herself fall back, away from him, her eyes fixed dazedly on the ground.

"You win," she said woodenly.

***

Triumph flooded my system at her words. I would keep her safe with me. Always. I loved her so much. I stood, slowly, my ribs ached where she had tried to put her fist through my chest cavity, my eyes never leaving her. Beautiful dark hair, glowing blue skin. That fire that burned so bright. She might hate me, but she'd be safe, she'd be whole.

I stopped. She was still. Not the relaxed stillness of sleep or the alert stillness of a hunter - she was still the way corpses are still. With no life left in them. My heart began to pound.

"Skari?" I said, willing her to look at me, for those flames to be back in her eyes. She didn't move, her shoulders slumped, her back bowed.

"What do you want, Crae?" she asked, her voice colorless.

"Look at me," I said, crouching down in front of her. She paused for a moment and then lifted her head. The air in my lungs left me. She was...broken. Her eyes were dull, her face expressionless, as though inside she had shut down, nothing but a shell left. I stood, picked up the datapad, looked at the monitors. My triumph. All the planning, preparing, the perfect execution. I looked back at my beautiful, firey cat, as limp as a ragdoll, her spark gone out. I had done this. Hurt her worse than a blaster bolt or vibroknife blade. My chest clenched. What was this? Pain? Sorrow? ........ Regret?

***

Skari stared off into space, her thoughts repetitive and fuzzy.

Crae punched in a series of numbers into the datapad and spoke: "Code 452. Loose snare." He set the datapad down next to her and walked away, staring at the stairs to the upper floor.

Movement on the monitors broke her out of her stupor. Doors were opening. Cautious, the crew stepped out.

"What are you doing?" she asked the man who stood in silence.

"Releasing you," he said quietly.

"I don't understand," Skari said cautiously, standing up.

Crae turned around and walked to her, lifting her chin with his hand, a sad smile on his face. "I should have known better," he whispered, his eyes molten gold, "than to try to chain a wild animal." He kissed her hard and fast, and then dropped his hand and walked to the door.

He was gone.

I've had the last half of this written for at least a month if not longer, so I'm a bit nervous on this one. Really hope it worked. The working title, for those of you interested, has been Crae Pulls a Crazy.

Extra details: The place where Crae has the crew stashed is a moon base above the planet where there was an old Imperial installation. He prepped it when he was so freaked out after Skari got hurt and he went after the kolto tank. In his mind it was a last resort.

The lights come on.

'Everyone stay calm. We are looking for the bounty hunter known as 'Leer' to arrest her for one hundred and thirty two counts of murder, four counts of theft, causing explosions that endangered lives on twenty three accounts, one account of attempting to cause a life endangering explosion-'

Gault glances at me with indulgent surprise at this before his eyes continue to quickly scan the scene of rising chaos that the security force have caused. Dancers are taken away by bouncers, the band is the first to go, and the patrons are left to half stand in a flurry and worry or attempt to hide in the few shadows left.

'We all have our off days,' I whisper. I keep my eye on the leader and assess his six subordinates.

'-of arson, continual violent disorder, three counts of contamination of goods with-'

'I found an exit, sweet heart.' I glance at Gault but shake my head.

'I'm enjoying listening to this. Bringing back a lot of good memories of being on Nar Shaddaa.' Gault looks at me with confused disgust and a hopeless shake of his head. 'How big do you think the data file on me is?'

'I'm sure it's long enough that you don't need to make it any longer right now,' he replies with urgency.

'Oh, I don't know. Maybe I can set a new record.'

'I'm sure you already have.' He starts to fidget agitatedly. 'If we leave now I'll let you kill ten people on the way back to our safe and warm ship,' he persuasively whispers.

'Relax, they've got a while to go still.' Gault rolls his eyes in reply but surprisingly stays. Surprised he didn't slip out as soon as the lights came on.

'-king threats to kill, sixty seven accounts of using explosives to cause grievous bodily harm, unlawful collection of information for-'

The leaders subordinates start to shift uncomfortably though their eyes continue to search for me. The patrons start to whisper louder and louder, their eyes also searching for me. Glad I didn't decide to wear durasteel tonight.

'And is letting me off the leash you don't hold really the best offer you can make?' I ask curiously, reclining into the booths cushions.

'Under the circumstances, yes. I want to get away from you more than closer to you, babe.'

'I should have fools try to arrest me more often then,' I wryly reply. He smiles and rolls his eyes.

'-finally, ten counts of manslaughter. Will the offender known as 'Leer' please step forward.'

'Nothing for it now, babe. You're on your own.' And just like that, Gault disappears. Surprised he gave me the heads up. Wouldn't be the first time he left without warning.

I sigh and do the only thing I can - I step forward.

'You know, I didn't even know there was law enforcement on Nar Shaddaa. How much is it going to cost for you to leave here without leaving a stain behind?'

'We can't be bought,' calls the human male who is obviously there superior and has been reading the list for the past five minutes. The other's in the police force look at him in disbelief and surprise. Seems to be news to them.

'Seems like your peers don't agree. This dress cost me three thousand credits. I'll pay you half of that much for you lovely officers to not leave a stain on my dress. How does that sound?'

One brave young man at the back nods his head. His superior notices the motion and glares at him.

'I repeat that we cannot be bought.' Hmm, he seems persistent and his stance suggests that this true. However, by the others reaction it makes me assume this isn't usually the case. I'm assuming this is personal. Wonder which family member I killed.

'Seems your peers don't share that opinion either.' I look at them each in turn, walking slowly closer. 'I will give you each two hundred credits to leave now.' They hesitate and glance at their superior. 'Or you can stay and die with your foolish captain.'

The one who nodded steps forward first and takes the money I offer. And then the other five swoop and my hand is empty.

'So what will it be: take my money or join the list as only another statistic?'

The leader hesitates. Then a decision enters his eyes and he moves to draw his gun. He falls dead before it leaves his belt. I put my gun back in its holster.

I walk up to him, nudge the body with my shoes heel and drop two hundred credits on his chest.

'For the cleanup crew,' I call to the bartender over my shoulder.

I turn the lights off as I leave.

We're all just animals. Just an animal. A creature of hungers and fears and instincts. I focused on my prey, blocking out everything else. My prey was stalking its prey - a grubby Nikto child digging through the garbage behind a restaurant. The kill was easy. Satisfaction. One more kill for my...

I am just an animal. I breathe, eat, walk, kill. Sleep a little. Kill some more. An animal. Simple. Keep it simple. But I have two too many legs and not enough fur.

I am not made for life among the two-legged. I know them, know their ways, but I cannot live among them. Dangerous as a blinded lion, hurting those who would offer it food. Food. Was my cat hungry? Worry clawed at me all the time, unnatural thing. Was she warm? Safe? Safer without me.

There is little difference between night and day on Nar Shaddaa. The smog and the brightly lit buildings clog the skies, bringing dusk to midday. In the slums it is always night. The scents are rank: rotting food, unwashed bodies, chemicals, and death. The sounds are harsh - the desperate need to live against the inevitability of death. I needed more prey. Something to hunt in the darkness. Purpose. It is a strange thing. I never had it before and now I feel the lack.

Slipping through the shadows was easy. The old patterns of stalk and strike were soothing. I watched from the shadows as the street children, the lost and discarded, crept out of their hidey holes, looking for food. I'd come to know them, their patterns. Vulnerable things. As near to four-legged creatures as I'd seen - their lives were survival. Food, shelter, safety. And yet, there was kindness among them on occasion. My cat had once been these children.

I leaned back against one of the walls covered with graffiti. Looked down at my hands. They could handle a knife, cradle a rifle, kill, hurt, but they were unsuited for care, protection, for love. A snake attempting art or a bull writing poetry would have more skill.

I looked back at the children, slipping around corners, darting across open spaces. Small scurrying animals avoiding the hunters stalking them. This I knew. This I was suited for. The human with the too-bright smile giving out food. I would kill him next.

Just an animal.

"Mom, what's happening?" I asked as I clung to her. Her body armor was cold against my skin. The explosions were getting closer.

She wiped the tears from my face and tried to soothe me. "Get behind me." Her voice was soft, but there was fear. "I won't let anything happen to you."

I did as she said, and she drew her pistols. My father was in the corner with my brother, trying to keep him from crying. If he did, they would find us for sure.

The explosions and the sounds of fighting stopped, but footsteps went by outside the door. As they got farther away, my mother gave a sigh of relief. But then my brother started to cry.

Suddenly, the door then crumpled and flew across the room as if by magic. In the doorway stood a lone man, with a drawn lightsaber. He had heard us.

"Stay back!" my mom cried. I'd seen recordings of her facing down rancors and krayt dragons, but I'd never seen her even so much as flinch. I didn't understand at the time why a single man could scare her so.

The Sith yanked the weapons from her hands and blasted her across the room before she could even get off a single shot. He then saw my father and choked him to death, before turning his attention to me. The last thing I saw was his mask, one that I could never forget.

#

I woke up in a cold sweat. I had that same nightmare every night. Every vivid detail was etched into my mind. It gave me the hatred that fueled me as a Sith.

The memory of my years in slavery that followed the death of my parents never left me, much as the brands on my face never did. My brother Kaaste had no such reminders. He was too young to remember the events, and he had grown up as a Sith, as that murderer's apprentice. I hated him for it. While he was raised in the lap of luxury, I was left to suffer.

How ironic was it that I now surpassed my brother? That I, who had been seen as Force-blind, was now the most powerful apprentice my master had ever seen?

Through passion, I have gained strength.

And through that strength, my chains were broken.

Her biggest failure was Ald. She couldn’t convince him Quinn was no good. She couldn’t convince him not to let Quinn back on the ship after what he did. She couldn’t convince Ald not to let her go. He cut her loose the second that man stepped on the ship. The very second. She shook her head and pounded another shot.

Ald was her biggest failure and damned if she couldn’t leave him.

Pride cometh before the fall and, when he fell, his pride was nothing, but shattered glass. It stabbed and gouged and tore all it touched. He was left gasping for breath at the bottom of a pit of despair. If he hadn’t owed so much of his career to Baras, if he hadn’t let his pride get in the way, if he had been less… him… would anything have changed? What was perfection or pride in the face of such blatant betrayal to the Empire? Betrayal of everything he stood for! He should have died. He should be tried for treason. But Ald, dear, sweet, merciful Ald had forgiven him, given him time to come to terms with things, welcomed him back with open arms. After all he had done, after attempting and failing to kill, after putting his emotions aside, after everything he was still wanted, needed.

He should have chosen Ald. He should have chosen the overwhelming chance of dying by Ald’s side rather than Baras. If only he could forgive himself as easily as Ald had forgiven him. If only he had chosen Ald.

It was his greatest failure.

He had known since the moment Quinn kneeled before him that the man was a plant. A spy. A liaison, if one stretched a bit. Vette warned him on many occasions that Quinn was bad news. He knew. What he didn’t know what just how bad that news would be. He didn’t expect to fall for the man, though he really should have. The only reason he was even on the ship was because Ald found him tastefully attractive and interesting. And it was his undoing.

Ald was a mission to Quinn. Nothing more, it seemed. It was the likely reason behind his reluctance to say “I love you” in any capacity. Admitting a “remarkable fondness” meant little to Ald. One was fond of a pet or a story, not a person they were intimate with. He tried to remind himself, as time went on, that Quinn’s purpose here was for spying and nothing more, but the more he got to know the man the more he was convinced he was an actual person and not a tool. He wanted to believe there was something more to the officer. He wanted to believe there was more to their relationship.

He wanted to believe and it was his greatest failure.

Alli’riani Liovissa, Bounty Hunter, Combat Medic, Tea Genius, Expert Dancer… Mother.

Bounty hunting.. That’s what I’m good at. It’s my specialty. My career. My life. It’s all I have left. I’m the best there is. I can’t look back at the mistakes I made in the past. Can’t even look back at the good things I did.. My daughter.. My beautiful, sweet daughter. She was so unexpected, but such a blessing. I love her, and I miss her. But leaving her with her father will be good for her.. She can go home, to Csilla. Grow up to be a respectable Chiss woman.. not an exile, like me.

…

“Kaeor, I’m pregnant.” Alli exhaled a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. She had decided earlier that morning that it was time to tell her lover that she was with child, and the thought of his reaction had made her anxious. When he arrived home later that evening she prepared his dinner in silence. She sat his plate down in front of him and took her normal seat across from him and waited.

“You’re what? Say that again please, I must not have heard you correctly.” Kaeor placed his fork on the table with more force than necessary, causing the young Chiss woman across from him jump in her chair slightly. He settled a steely gaze on Alli, reading her face for any sign of a lie, a joke, or something.

Alli swallowed hard. “I said I’m pregnant, Kaeor. With child. Expecting. Eating for two.” She smiled a little, trying to lighten the already souring mood. “Aren’t you happy?” She asked, hoping that he would be.

Kaeor just stared across at Alli, his steely crimson gaze raking over her every feature. He was silent for a long moment, and Alli fidgeted in her chair. Finally, he spoke. “Happy? I’m kriffing baffled. How in the nine hells of Corellia are you pregnant?! We’ve -- there's no.. You can't be serious?!”

“Kaeor,” she interjects.

“You must be joking. Please tell me you’re joking.” He quiets down and waits, watching her intently.

Alli placed her hands on the table in front of her, and then drops them back down to her lap. I don’t even know, myself... How am I going to explain this without looking like a whore? I didn’t cheat, but we were so careful. Or at least I thought we were… She stares at a point on the wall behind Kaeor before sliding her gaze over and down to meet his. “I know we took every precaution. I don’t know how, but all I know for certain is that I’m late, so I took a pregnancy test. It was positive.” She smiles sheepishly and looks down, unable to hold his gaze any longer.

Kaeor gaped. “No. No, it isn’t possible. You’re lying to me!”

“I’m not lying, Kaeor.” She had flinched when he raised his voice, and now she couldn’t bring herself to look up at him at all.

Kaeor was absolutely livid. “Then you’re a dirty whore. You’ve cheated on me with another man in this camp. Tell me his name so I can pay him a little visit.” He punctuated the word “visit” with jabbing his steak knife in the table, so that it stood straight up.

Alli took a deep breath and raised her head, leveling her gaze with Kaeor’s. His eyes were bright and intense. “Kaeor’vornal of House Nuruodo, Captain in the House Guard, currently stationed on Hoth for a two year training rotation with the new recruits.” Her voice was steady and firm, so much so that she caught herself off-guard momentarily. “And,” she added, “I am not a whore.”

Kaeor stared back at Alli. Her face, for once, was unreadable. But her voice… Her voice told him that her words are true. She stared back at him, her eyes intense and steady. One thought was on her mind, however.

Now what?

When we speak of peace, what do we mean? There are many kinds of peace: that which refers to a tranquillity and stillness, perhaps even a stagnation; that which is acceptance, whether of knowledge or a state of affairs; and that which most commonly refers us to a state of violence. So, which peace is it that we refer to, when we say that it is "a lie"? The most obvious answer is the state of violence - that it is a call to war and a right to exercise our will.

I believe a fundamental misunderstanding of this line is what leads to the perception that violence in all aspects of one's life is necessary, even just. One must take it in context with the subsequent line "there is only passion" to start to understand the passage in its entirety. This is not an external state or action, but a reflection of the internal: we accept our emotions, their existence and their necessity. Here we see the denial of peace as tranquillity or the stagnation of thought and process, set against another form of peace: acceptance. But how exactly is this exercised? As the romanticist Lord Laffert wrote in his great lovelorn poems, emotion is often the "boiling sea" beneath the "ice, shown to the world". In a way this is an emulation of the Jedi's denial of emotions, and a perpetuation of the idea that the expression of emotions is itself a weakness. For emotions are seen as a tool, one that must be honed, but forever kept in check: one must control one's emotions and never vice versa.

So does the Force free us of these shackles?

~

Broan rubbed his eyes and lay down his pen. It was very late in the evening - or perhaps very early in the morning - and he was tired. His heart skipped a beat as he re-read the line comparing the Sith to Jedi. That was likely not what Lord Vizloch would want to read, however interested she might be in his previous life. He would have to deal with it in the morning, or at least when he was awake.

One day I should just go through the entire code and have Broan dissect it; i.e. finish the above essay. Would be interesting.