An Imperial Outpost

4 ATC

K’hera glared at the closed door, wondering if she should knock or simply barge in. The sound of K’saria’s muffled laughter decided the issue. Reaching out with the Force, she overrode the locks and slammed the door open.

She was greeted by the sight of her sister entwined with a young man in an officer’s uniform.

“In civilized places, people knock,” K’saria said sourly, glaring at her twin.

“In civilized places,” K’hera retorted, “the Force-users don’t fraternize with the command staff.”

K’saria sighed. “Emperor, you’re so uptight these days.” She disentangled herself from the officer. “You’re dismissed, Captain. I’ll see you later,” she added with a coy smile.

The man fled, hastily doing up his jacket as he went.

K’hera glowered after him, then fixed her attention on her sister. “Have you no shame?” she demanded.

K’saria rolled her eyes. “You’re going to lecture me, aren’t you?” She ran her fingers through her disheveled hair. “You definitely know how to kill the mood. Why’d you show up so early?”

“I am precisely on time,” K’hera said through gritted teeth. “You’re the one who seems to have wanted a quick fix before our meeting.”

“I really don’t see what you’re so upset about,” K’saria drawled. “As I recall, you were the one with the reputation as the Academy sl—“

“That’s different!” K’hera interrupted heatedly. “They, at least, were Sith!”

“Ah, so you think I’m lowering myself,” K’saria said archly. “How very elitist. Mother would be proud.”

“You are lowering yourself,” K’hera snapped.

K’saria laughed. “You expect me to believe that you would pass up a delectable piece of uniformed goodness?”

“I most certainly would,” K’hera retorted. “Force-blinds are beneath us. It doesn’t matter how good-looking they are.”

“But I like military men,” K’saria pouted. “So disciplined, yet so eager to please—“

“A woman of your breeding should know better,” K’hera admonished.

“Don’t bring our lineage into this.”

“And why not? You’re certainly disgracing it with your behavior!”

“What do you care?”

“We are Sith, K’saria,” K’hera said firmly. “That means something.”

“Maybe to you,” K’saria yawned. “I prefer to keep an open mind.”

“I can think of a few other things you seem to be keeping open,” K’hera said darkly.

K’saria shook her head. “Tell me, O high and mighty sister of mine, did you come here expressly to harass me about my romantic exploits, or was there an actual reason for your visit?”

“I happened to be in the area, so I thought I’d check in and see what a spectacular failure you were making of yourself,” K’hera said coolly.

“It’s going to take more than that to provoke me.”

K’hera smiled sweetly. “Then it’s a good thing that I’m not trying to provoke you, isn’t it?” She made a show of looking at the wall chrono. “But look at the time—I’d best be going. My master will be wanting me back; you know how it is. Oh wait, you don’t! Because no one was stupid enough to pick you as an apprentice!”

K’saria folded her arms across her chest. “Stop gloating and get going.”

K’hera smirked at her. “With pleasure.”

Years later, A'tro will look back on this conversation and facepalm. Ah, dramatic irony.

This is about two years before K'saria defects to the Republic.

Perhaps they will meet in the future....

Maathai rushed forward, enveloping her daughter in a warm embrace. She broke it quickly with a sniff, “Where are my manners,” she muttered, brushing her eye and smoothing her clothes, “I am Maathai Bilali, senior wife of Adoko Bilali,” she said with a slight bow, “. Welcome home, Kirya,” she said, taking her daughter’s hands, “and welcome to your husband.” She reached out to Corso.

He fumbled with the holosculpture before giving up and extending his right hand as though for a handshake, “Corso Riggs, ma’am,” he said, “I’m very pleased to meet you.”

She clasped his hand with both of hers, “So polite in person too,” she said, “much better than the other one.” She let go and turned to Kirya, “He does know about the other one, doesn’t he?” she asked.

“Mom!” exclaimed Kirya.

Corso answered before Kirya could continue, “Yes, ma’am. We, uh…ran into him a while back. That’s kind of what brought this all on. I wanted to be sure to meet you. Meet Kirya’s family, that is. It didn’t seem right, us being married and all and you not knowing.”

Maathai tipped her head, “I like you,” she said. She released him and took a step back, “Is that for me?” she asked, indicating the gift with a nod of her head.

Kirya broke in, “It’s more for dad. But since he’s busy, we’ll just leave it with you and go.”

“Go?” asked Maathai, “and miss your own tanasi’ine? No, you can’t go, Kirya.”

“But I saw all the speeders—wait, a tanasi’ine?” asked Kirya.

“Yes,” said Maathai, beaming.

“Excuse me, what’s a tanasi’ine?” Corso asked.

“Wedding feast,” said both women in unison. Maathai continued solo, “and celebration. You’ve married twice now without proper ceremony. You didn’t think your father was going to miss the opportunity to give his favorite daughter and her husband a tanasi’ine, did you?”

Kirya shook her head as though to clear it, “My father?” she asked, still stunned.

“Of course.”

“Is this the same man who sent me a comm telling me that if I became a blind, spice-addicted beggar on the lowest level of the worst slum on Ryloth, he’d do everything to find me, so he could kick me into the nearest sewer? That father?” asked Kirya.

Maathai gently patted her daughter’s cheek, “Where do you think you get your temper from, dear,” she said.

Corso chuckled. Kirya brushed her mother’s hand away, “And since when have I been dad’s favorite daughter?”

Maathai’s eyes twinkled, “He’s been following your career ever since you showed up on the bounty boards—“

“Dad reads the bounty boards?” exclaimed Kirya.

“He has for ages. I think he kept hoping the other one would show up,” replied Maathai, “Imagine his surprise when he saw your name there. And from Rogun the Butcher, no less. He’s so proud of you.”

Kirya rubbed her eyes, “I’m asleep. We’re in hyperspace, still on route. I’m going to wake up now, and find out this is all a dream. Aaany minute now…”

It wasn’t fair, mused a somber five year old Aaron, why did he always have to give up his toys to his brother, Cohen only wanted them because he was playing with it in the first place. Aaron was confident his brother wouldn’t find him here, on the top loft in the barn, he wasn’t supposed to be here, but he was bigger and stronger then Cohen, and he wouldn’t be able to climb up. He could hear squealing and crying coming from the house as Cohen fought off Mitka’s attempts at grabbing his toys. Aaron smirked to himself, let him know what it feels like for a change. He heard the slap then Mitka’s wailing, followed shortly by their mother hollering at Cohen for hitting his little sister. The door slammed.

“Go find your brother and play with him.” His mother called out. Crap.

The door closed again to his mother’s exasperated cry “Mitka, what did you get into now?” followed by his baby sisters giggles.

Aaron held himself very still, hoping his brother wouldn’t guess where he was, the barn door opened, Aaron risked a peak over the edge of the loft, it was his dad leading a Ronto into one of the pens. The hay tickled his nose, and he sneezed. Cohen wandered into the barn just then. They both looked up at him, his father with a serious look.

“Aaron, you know better, get down from there.” His father admonished, Aaron gathered his new speeder model and climbed down. Sure enough as soon as his feet hit the floor Cohen was reaching for his toy, he held it over his head. “Aaron, come on buddy, we share our toys in this family.”

Aaron bit his lip, he didn’t want to share this toy, it was delicate, and Cohen was always so rough and sticky, he would ruin it. He gave his dad a pleading look. He got a sympathetic wink but no give, he would have to share. He reluctantly, and carefully placed the small plasteel speeder in his little brothers dirty hands. Cohens eyes got big, his lips mouthing the word “wow.” He ran outside, Aaron hot on his heels.

“Be careful Cohen.” He called out desperate, while his three year old brother ran in circles making speeder noises. “Not so hard!” He heard himself cry out as Cohen threw the model to the ground imitating a crash. “Dad, he’s gonna break it!” He turned to his father, tears welling in his eyes.

“Cohen that’s enough, its Aaron’s turn now.” Corso spoke in a commanding tone.

Cohen looked up from the toy laying in the dirt, “No!”

Aaron dove for it, his dad said it was his turn, so he could have it, both boys grabbed it at the same time, pulling the pushing at the same time, fighting for the speeder. He heard a crack. When he looked in his hands he was holding half of his broken model speeder. He started to cry, sadness and rage gripping his little heart, he lunged for his brother small hands balled up into fists, he landed a few short punches on his stupid little brother before he felt big strong arms pull him away. Cohen was crying, good, but so was he, and his speeder was broken.

“You always ruin everything! I hate you!” His anger getting the best of him.

“Aaron, hitting and hateful words isn’t something a Riggs does. Go sit on the stoop.” His father ordered in a tone that brooked no arguments. He then turned to tend to Cohen.

He walked to the stoop, crying, angry still clutching the broken half of his speeder. It wasn’t fair, Cohen only wanted it because he had it. Hot tears fell and he wiped the snot away with his sleeve. He wished he was a grown up so that he wouldn’t have to fight his brother for the things he loved.

Fourteen-year-old Acolyte Draagh alternated looking over his father's message and watching the Korriban sky. He reread the holomessage so many times it was almost completely etched into his memory.

---My son,

I feel it is my duty to inform you that you have a younger sister, and she will be arriving on Korriban in the next few days. Now, I know this is a lot to take in, and it requires some explanation. Eleven years ago, Darth Hri'can was having trouble becoming with child. She offered compensation and favors to male Lords and Darths to attempt to get her with child. I was one of those who tried. She provided ample compensation and took some blood from each participant to determine paternity if the child was conceived and born. It was after your mother's death, and I did not feel like explaining the situation to you while you were so young. I thought nothing of it until yesterday, when I was contacted by the Darth herself. The girl she gave birth to was mine, and she is Force sensitive. Darth Hri'can did not send me her name, but she mentioned that she looks a lot like me and that she will be arriving with a house slave who was discovered to be sensitive that same day. As the girl's half-brother, you will have an inlet to forging a relationship with her and her mother, a powerful Darth. Make me proud.

Your Father, Lord Wheks----

Just a quick, bright_ephemera style recap into the Kodrevas world. This story references a lot of the things that I've come up with for my star crossed sisters and I don't expect anyone to remember any of it. I seriously can't figure out how to embed a link into a sentence and since no one is going to read these again anyway, I'll just list them by prompt:

[Turning Point] Brei'yu defects from the Republic and Ipha finds the military

[Worst Day Ever/Turning Point] The Empire breaks Brei'yu's cover and seven years later Adris tracks her down for a job.

[Rites of Passage] Adris visits his siblings, Vikis and Ellivian, and discuss among other things, Brei'yu

[First Impressions] Ipha joins Havoc Squad

[Confessions] Vector admits to Adris that he's in love with Brei'yu, Adris realizes he is not.

[Communications Breakdown] Brei'yu realizes Vector is actually quite attractive, still dislikes being called Agent.

[Discoveries] Vector discovers Brei'yu secret power, shares the hive with her.

[Catching Up] Ipha settles into Havoc Squad, gets an unwelcome call.

[What's in a Name?] Ipha discovers her name is being used most grievously, hilariously puts and end to it.

[Allies] It's Adris' birthday, Brei'yu goes for broke.

[Dreams and Nightmares] The Kodrevas sisters discover their father has been killed.

[uninvited Guests] Vector makes the first romantic overture to Brei'yu.

[Firsts] Never one to be out done by a sister, Ipha throws it all in and flirts with Jorgan. Aurai is introduced.

[Like No One is Watching] Ipha's got a talent.

She woke feeling lightheaded and a little groggy, like she had drank just a touch too much the night before or Elara had injected her with some mild version of the Tarisian flu. She was deep under the covers, cocooned in darkness and slightly stale air. The blankets were what she was used to; dark, thin, military style and cut. Just enough to stay comfortably warm in the regulated air of the ship. The bed was wrong though.

For one it was too big. The crew quarters beds were singles. This one had to be at least a full. She was lying diagonally across the mattress, her feet tucked in but pointed at the bottom right while her head was hidden under the top left pillow. She wasn't sure why she was so hyper aware of her positioning so soon after waking up. She just felt wrong.

The nausea escalated when she pushed the covers off her head. She squeaked in horror when she realized where she was. This was Major Poole's bed, in Major Poole's quarters. Why was she in Major Poole's bed, in Major Poole's quarters?

She was alone and for that she thanked every star that twinkled distantly out the window. She was also clothed, (thank you thank you thank you) though in her off duty pants and a baggy tank top. It was her regular nighttime wear that she slept in. Had she been ill? Had the Major given her his quarters to recover in privacy? She ran a hand through her hair and tried to remember the last few days. But she was distracted by the realization that her hair was really long. Not just 'need a hair cut pretty soon' long, this was 'where did this extra foot of hair come from?!' long. She stared at the ends of the black strands, her mind 'uh buhing' its way through ridiculous possibilities.

She was wearing a wig.

Elara convinced her to go into that crazy Twi'lek run grooming shop on Nar Shaddaa and they got hair extensions.

She really was sick and one of the side effects of the medication for it was rampant hair growth.

She yanked at her scalp. Unless that grooming shop used industrial glue, this was her hair. A terrifying thought struck her and she leapt out of bed and leaned into the mirror. It was her face still, thank the stars. A little tired, a little drawn maybe, pale. But that was just because she'd been sick right?

The last thing she remembered was being on Hutta. Why she had been there was hazy. A Hutt, some land war, she couldn't quite grasp it. She had been on assignment with Havoc Squad. She couldn't get any details of her actual time on the stinking planet to shake loose. She remembered being on the ship getting ready to board the orbital station. Then...

How long had it been? She searched for a chronometer and found it next to the bed. It wasn't yet 06:00, but she had lost two days.

Two days.

Her mind wobbled at the thought. But then her attention was captured by something else. The closet door was slightly ajar and within she could see a uniform. Her off duty uniform. Slowly, like something was going to burst out of the confines at any moment, she crossed to the closet and pulled open the door. Her clothes were lined up with military precision in the stingy space. Why were her clothes in Major Poole's closet? She touched her shirts to make sure they were really there then spied clothing that wasn't hers. Mens clothing. Major Poole's clothing obviously though they seemed a little too small.

What had she missed in two days?

Squeezing her eyes shut and clenching her fists, she went over what she did know. Her name was Ipha Kodrevas. She was a Lieutenant in the Republic military. She was a soldier, a doctor, a cyborg. She was a member of Havoc Squad and something had happened to her on Nal Hutta.

She dressed quickly, doing the bare bones of making herself presentable. Major Poole would know what happened. Elara would have her medical records. Why hadn't anyone come in to check on her? If she had been sick then surely Elara at least would have flitted in and out to check her condition. She was distracted again by the fact that she seemed to have all her stuff in the Major's quarters. Her hairbrush, her make up kit even her little jewelry box was right there on the nightstand. There were small clues of a man around as well, but the stuff seemed mostly hers. This was all too surreal, she needed answers.

She keyed open the door and stepped into the Blue Bukk's common room. It was empty.

She looked from side to side, listening to the silence. Then Elara Dorne came out of the med bay. “Good morning, sir,” the other woman said crisply.

Ipha opened her mouth to answer, then froze in confusion. “Wh-what did you say?”

Elara glanced at her on her way to the mess. “I said good morning.”

“No, did you call me-”

“Sir!”

Ipha actually physically, embarrassingly jumped. Captain Aric Jorgan strode off the steps to the bridge and gave her a smile she couldn't read but made her heart flutter. Before she could gather her scattered thoughts, he was taking her by the arm and leading her away to the cargo hold.

“Excuse us, Dorne. I have something the Major needs to see,” he said over his shoulder he dragged her away.

The Major? Where was he anyway? And why did she need to see too? “Where is Poole?” she asked feebly. She needed to get past the embarrassment of waking up in his quarters. Elara hadn't seemed too miffed that she was coming out of his room, despite the fact that Elara and Poole were engaged to be married. That was... odd was too mild a term.

“What pool?” Jorgan said distractedly. He took her to the work bench and swung her around before she could answer.

She absolutely and irrevocably froze in terror when he wrapped his arms around her.

He dipped his head down and nuzzled his nose against hers as her mouth fell open in shock. “Sorry I was out of bed so early this morning. I got the holo we needed from the Tion system. Everything is being set up- are you alright? You look like you're about to pass out.”

She was. She was totally about to pass out right here in his arms and it was because she was in his arms. “What... Why... what are you doing?” she managed.

“Hey, don't worry. Vik hasn't come back from Dantooine yet and Dorne knows better than to interrupt our alone moments unless it's important.” Jorgan smoothed the long dark hair off her forehead with a touch that felt incredibly too intimate for their situation. Then he kissed her.

The top of Ipha's head blew off. She froze solid for a moment then found the strength in her arms to push herself away. “Captain!” she said on a heavy exhale. What the hell what the hell! “WHAT are you doing!”

Not that she didn't want it. She'd wanted it almost since the moment she met him. But the level of intimacy he was exuding, the comfortableness. It was too much for her brain to handle. What had happened during her two lost days?

“Um, I'm kissing my wife good morning. And showing her...”

“Wife?” she choked.

“Ipha, what's wrong with you?”

“Where's Major Poole?' she blurted. Her thoughts were slow and sluggish. Maybe she was going into shock.

“Major what?” Concern crossed Jorgan's face as he searched her eyes. “Baby, do you feel alright? Do I need to get Dorne?”

Being called baby by him like an ice pick into her guts. She yanked herself away and collided with the wall. She heard him shout her name as she slid down to the floor. Her legs just wouldn't hold her anymore. Jorgan was calling for Elara and on his knees beside her, gathering her struggling form against his body.

“Major!” she shouted, as though having the big Zabrak show up would put everything right. Even if right meant not being held against Jorgan's firm chest by his strong arms.

Elara ran up and immediately went into medic mode. “What's wrong with her?”

“She's confused. Disorientated,” Jorgan said.

“Sir,” Elara said loudly, coming close to Ipha's face and looking into her eyes.

“Where's Major Poole?' Ipha moaned. She caught the confused looked between Jorgan and Elara. “Major Rendrik Poole! The leader of Havoc Squad!”

Jorgan smoothed an incredibly soft hand over her hair and cupped her cheek. “Ipha,” he said, sounding like he would rather be calling her baby again. “You're the leader of Havoc Squad.”

She went still, staring up into his eyes like they would anchor her to her body. “N-no. No. NO. I'm the slicing specialist. I'm.. I'm Lieutenant Ipha Kodrevas, Republic military. ID 5347BQ “

Jorgan and Elara goggled at each other and then at her.

“5347BQ. 5347BQ. Lieutenant Ipha Kodrevas. Special Forces 326 code named Havoc Squad,” she repeated herself desperately as though saying the words into the universe would make them true again.

“I'm going to sedate her,” Elara said quietly. Jorgan held on tight and then kissed her forehead as she given the injection.

Ipha whimpered.

“It's going to be okay. We're going to figure this out.” It was the last thing she heard before the darkness spread.

<To be continued>

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Ipha's awesome debut

*************

The family estate was quiet when Minalde arrived. The house of course was in perfect order as it always was. This was in direct contrast to the confusion and chaos that swirled through her mind.

She gave a few brief instructions to one of the many service droids, then stepped through the door to the inner gardens. A small pavilion stood in the middle, dappled by the mid-afternoon sunlight. Entering the anteroom of the pavilion, she started the necessary preparations. First she went to the small stone basin to the side filled with clear cool water, washed her hands, then rinsed her mouth. Her sense of tenseness began to ease as she started the familiar rituals. She opened a small chest which contained a number of paper scrolls,each one neatly tied with ribbon. Considering for a moment, she breathed in and let the Force guide her. One felt right and she picked it up and carefully unrolled it.

It was a image of two people, standing under a tree, the sun low in the sky beyond them. Nothing to indicate if it was sunrise or sunset. Was it an ending or beginning? No way to tell. Nodding to herself she carefully hung the picture in the anteroom. A rustle outside of the pavilion alerted her to the arrival of her “guests” Glancing through the doorway she saw a small dark-haired older woman and a surprisingly tall young man. Picking up a small bell, she stepped outside and rang it, the sweet tone echoing off the walls surrounding the garden.

The young man smiled broadly as he stepped forward. Without a word she bowed to him with a small smile and he graciously returned the bow. Then Minalde turned toward the woman and bowed very deeply not raising her eyes until her bow was returned. “Mother” she said, her only verbal greeting.

Turning she entered the inner room to allow her guest to wash their hands and rinse their mouths. She quietly waited until they entered and sat down before the low table in the middle of the room. On the table were the all the items needed to perform the family version of the ceremony. Heirlooms of the family that dated back centuries. Seating herself at the table she began the rituals she had learned almost as soon as she had learned to walk. Body memory took over as she cleaned the bowl, carefully scooped the tea and whisked it together. Very precise protocols had to be followed,and focusing on them was allowing her to sooth her mind and push the confusion away. She allowed her self a small smile when she saw her brothers eyes light up as she uncovered the special confections she had brought with her. Small formal pleasantries were exchanged as the followed the dance of the ritual. Minalde felt herself finally really breath and relax by the end of the ceremony. It was time to get to the heart of why she had come here.

“Mother, I have received a marriage proposal”

Her brother stopped mid bite to stare at her in astonishment. Her mother just looked at her levelly, no emotion showed on her face.

“Jedi do not marry. You will not bring shame to our family name”

With that, her mother rose gracefully and left the room. Her brother looked angry. Minalde felt her stomach clenching all over again. She shot a pleading look at her brother while she searched for the right words.

No one remembered where this ceremony was learned or why, but the Tea Ceremony was something the family had always done. It represented balance and this was what she she came seeking, but this time it would take more than this ceremony to restore her balance.

I have to thank the last couple of prompts for this story. That, and a diplomacy mission of all things.

I haven’t thought much about Sha’ra’zaed’s family. I don’t have any other Chiss PCs to relate to her. I had a thumbnail sketch for Scheh, and especially after the ‘New Paths’ I knew there were more of them around. And then, this older brother just sort of popped in there. As the pirate for whom your companion obtains a privateering license.

Sha’ra’zaed carded open the interrogation cell. Her clearance was easily more than the cell’s security protocols required; it didn’t even bother with secondary identification. She made a note to mention this to station security. Even high-level clearances could be forged.

The prisoner sat at a bare metal table, the only furniture in the room save a pair of matching bare metal chairs, one of which he occupied. Binders kept the prisoner’s hands on the table. Blue hands, Chiss hands, no gloves or jewelry. No other finery, just bare-bones practical shirt and trousers, both rumpled and several days past clean. Scuffed boots, secured to the floor. He raised his head as Sha’ra’zaed entered the room.

“So, she comes when called,” he sneered in Cheunh. Stringy indigo hair fell away from his face, revealing all hard lines and planes. Two scars marred his lips, another cut through his eyebrow and continued down his cheek, though he still had the eye. Someone had broken his nose. Not recently.

Sha’ra’zaed activated a jammer in her pocket. The cell’s cameras and recorders would receive nothing but static for five minutes. She took the seat opposite the prisoner. “Schehe’pou’larane,” she said.

“Lovely to see you again Schehe’ra’zaede, dear little sister,” he continued, still speaking Cheunh, “Is the Empire treating you well? I can’t tell from your insignia, it seems to be missing. Was that for me? I’m flattered you think I’d pay attention.”

She had indeed. Because he would pay attention, and who knows how he’d use the information, “Do you have any idea the trouble you’re in?”

“You’ve been around Humans too long, little Haraz. This isn’t how we do things. There should be pleasant conversation first.”

“You have four minutes thirty seconds, Hepoul. If you’d prefer to waste it on small talk I can oblige,” Sha’ra’zaed said.

“Touchy touchy,” Hepoul said, flipping his hair put of his eyes, “I don’t care about your Empire’s rules.”

He was worried. Hepoul always fiddled with his hair under stress; a bad habit their mentor had never been able to break. “You should. Between your cargo—all your cargo, they found the little hideaways, Hepoul—and your ship’s logs you’re looking at spacing. Your crew? Kessel or Sevarcos II.”

Hepoul jerked forward to the limit of his restraints, “They’re your family too, Haraz,” he hissed, “will you send them to Kessel? Should we all have stepped up and become honorary Humans like you did?”

Sha’ra’zaed stayed calm. Hepoul was always good at playing emotions, at picking at a target’s weak points. “Emigrating was an option. You chose otherwise.”

Hepoul’s eyes narrowed, the scar crinkling, “Oh, I did try. I could not stomach the propaganda. Humans, superior? A government ruled by insane mystics? Whose only claim to power was their seeming invincibility? Sith are not invincible, Haraz. One well-placed shot from very far away…”

“Why not go to the Republic, then?” she asked, “You had a ship. Go there if you hate the Empire so much.”

Hepoul lounged back in his chair, flipping his hair again, “More Humans. All holding hands and pretending to be friends, while stabbing each other in the back. And more mystics, all refusing to use their supposed powers, because they fear temptation. Fools.”

“I don’t care about your politics, Hepoul,” Sha’ra’zaed said, “only resolving this situation.”

Hepoul picked at his fingernails, “Your emissary was already here. The Human with the black eyes, what was his name? Ve-something. I don’t remember Human names.”

“Vector Hyllus.”

“That might have been the name, yes.”

“Have you considered his proposal?” she asked.

“We hunt what we like,” Hepoul said, a feral grin on his scarred lips.

“Hunting what you like netted you a hold full of glitterstim, recorded attacks on Imperial-flagged vessels, one scrapped hyperdrive, and a week in the brig.” Sha’ra’zaed leaned forward, pressing her advantage, “the only reason you’re not breathing vacuum right now is because the Human whose name you can’t remember understood Chiss naming conventions well enough to realize you might be related to me.”

“If he is your underling then it is his responsibility to know,” Hepoul said with a flick of his head.

Sha’ra’zaed ground her teeth in frustration, “I have obtained a Letter of Marque and Reprisal for you and your crew.”

“And this means what? Chiss have no such laws.”

“You agree to pursue only non-Imperial beaconed ships,” Sha’ra’zaed said, “and the Empire will take no action against you. For past or future deeds, so long as you leave Imperial shipping unmolested.” She withdrew a datapad from her pocket and slid it across the table.

Hepoul perused the contents, “And what must I do to accept this…license? Kiss the Emperor’s as*?”

Fifty-nine seconds, “Accept. That’s all.”

He glared at the datapad, then initialed it and flicked it back across the table, “I want my things back. My clothes, all the things they took from me.”

Sha’ra’zaed stood, “They’ll be on board your ship.”

“Why do you do it, Schehe’ra’zaede?” Hepoul asked, “Bend knee to these freaks? They aren’t your people, they aren’t Chiss. They’ll always hate you, you know. You’re better than this.”

Keeper had asked her much the same question. She still had no answer she could put in words. “If you violate the terms, Hepoul, they’ll space you. All of you. I cannot intervene for you again.”

“I hunt what I like,” Hepoul repeated.

The counter ticked to zero. The cameras would be recording again, “Then you’d best prefer Republic shipping,” Sha’ra’zaed said, leaving the cell and closing the door behind her.

Vector met her in the corridor beyond, “We are sorry, Agent, but we could not ignore—“

“It’s all right, Vector, you did well.”

“Did he…accept the terms?” Vector asked.

Sha’ra’zaed fought the urge to look back at the cell door, “Yes. He’s an Imperial privateer now. For the time being.”

“We do not understand why he would be displeased with the arrangement,” Vector said, “He can continue doing what he wants as before, with only minor alterations.”

“What he wants,” Sha’ra’zaed began, “is to live in the Ascendancy again. I cannot give him that.”

Vecrot nodded slowly, “Would you like us to monitor his activity? Alert you of troubles?”

Sha’ra’zaed sighed, “Yes.”

Nar Shaddaa

“Darth Ninka!” Remi hugged the Sith who returned her affection with an awkward pat on the back. Ninka never knew what to make of Lord Scourge’s mate and Sith did not hug.

“Jaesa!” Remi squealed and this time her hug was returned with enthusiasm to Ninka’s dismay. “Or should I say Lord Jaesa.” Remi released the other Sith, “I hear congratulations are in order.”

“Once Ninka became a Darth she could make me a Lord.” Jaesa smiled happily.

Remi ordered her usual non-alcoholic fruit drink and the group found a small table in the corner of the cantina.

“How is he?” Ninka asked getting to the reason for their meeting right away

Remi rolled her eyes. “Arrogant, petulant, imperceptive, and inflexible. He also tried to kill me at the end of our session.”

“What?” the pair of Sith exclaimed in unison.

“Oh don’t worry he always does that.” The Jedi waved her hand dismissively.

Darth Ninka slumped in her seat. “You’ve worked with him for over a year. Will he never be healed from what they did?”

A confused look passed over Remi’s face, “Oh no he’s healed. Today was our last session.”

“But you said…”

“Before today he didn’t know why he was attacking me, today he said that as a Jedi I was a threat to the Empire.” Remi explained, “He’s on his way back to Dromund Kaas now.”

“But he tried to kill you,” the Darth voiced her exasperation, “You said you were going to cure him.”

Remi gave the Sith a dry look, “I said I’d cure him of what the Hand did, I can’t cure him of being Quinn.”

Dromund Kaas

Dromund Kaas was home but it never felt that way. Boarding schools for as long as I can remember, the Academy after that, a completely respectable upbringing meant to culminate in the ascension of the Quinn name to greater heights than the previous generation. Knowing that I had both failed to advance my name and produce an heir that could further do so has not been easy for me to acknowledge. It seemed that the path I had followed my entire life had reached an end, now I set about finding a new one.

For the past five days, I had searched for proper lodgings in Kaas City. Anything even remotely acceptable was extortionately priced. I walked up to the bar at the Dark Side Cantina for the third night in a row intending to drown my distaste for my state being and of mind. I had to admit, I was lonely, and while such feelings are unbecoming an officer, I was no longer that.

“Quinn-man!” A deep and cheerful voice rang out behind me. I am sure my expression was something between shame and irritation but I attempted to conceal both.

“General Biron,” I greeted my former year-mate with a nod.

“How are you old man?” He glanced at me briefly, and I am sure he missed nothing. He was almost as sharp as I was at the Academy. I expected superiority or gloating or worse, pity, but he seemed genuinely glad to see me. He extended a hand, a rare gesture among Imperials.

“As well as can be, Biron.” I replied, surprising myself by taking it.

“Let me get the first round,” he ordered our drinks and we took them to a table for privacy. “Are you in Kaas City permanently now?” He asked once we were seated.

“That was the plan though I may change my mind if I fail to find proper lodgings.” I muttered into my cup.

“It’s funny you say that, I ran into another ex-serviceman who said the same thing. He found a grand flat but could only afford half and he bemoaned being unable to find a roommate.”

“Why?” I asked suspiciously, “What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing, as far as I can tell.” Biron laughed. “He’s an odd one but quiet, keeps to himself, he has good connections and recommendations. Frankly, I’m not sure why he can’t find someone to go halfs with him. I was going to introduce him to a few friends of mine, he’s meeting me here tonight.”

I shook my head at my former classmate. How someone so friendly and personable could advance through the ranks without picking up a slew of enemies was beyond reason. He even allied with the Republic during his stint on Hoth and came out with his reputation unscathed. Nevertheless, I considered his words carefully.

“I might be just the person. What’s his name?”

“Brother!” A joyful voice I had not heard in over a decade rang out from the doorway. A thin man of slightly below average height a few years my junior bounded over to our table.

“Brother?” Biron asked raising an eyebrow.

“Talos and I are not brothers.” I said attempting to maintain my dignity. The man who smiled broadly beside me had a way of eroding it.

“Well not exactly,” Talos admitted his mood not at all diminished by my obvious disapproval. “His great-great-grandfather’s second cousin was married to my great-great-grandmother’s sister. You see that brings us to within eight degrees of relation, on an archeological scale we’re practically twins!”

Biron could not contain his laughter and he grasped Talos’s arm in belated greeting. “I was just telling Quinn here about your situation, he too is looking for lodgings. Perhaps since you know each other you can discuss it.” He offered Talos his seat, which the smaller man took gratefully, and with a nod in my direction walked back to his officer friends looking very pleased with himself.

“We can be roommates.” Talos exclaimed, “You have no idea how wonderful that will be, so many of the prospective former officers I’ve interviewed have been bullies or drunkards. You really must come with me to see the place.”

I considered the situation and decided that it could be far worse. “Of course Talos,” I replied finishing my lone drink and prepared to leave, “First thing tomorrow.”

“No, we should go now before someone else takes it.” He stood energetically and grasped my arm, his enthusiasm giving him strength out of proportion with his size.

I allowed him to pull me out of the cantina and we took a speeder to the proposed lodgings. The two hundred block of Kaas City was not exactly modern but it was nowhere near the dilapidated state of the slums set aside for non-military personnel.

“Here it is,” Talos exclaimed, “Building Twenty-one Beta.”

I was surprised to see a single low building, neat and well kept, it must have dated back to a time before the Kaas City expansion. We were received by a woman in her late thirties who lived in the lower rooms and rented out the flat above. Her carriage and manner marked her as some kind of former servicewoman but she introduced herself by name. That coupled with the fact that she did not seem to know the value of her own lodgings forced me to believe she had never finished the Academy nor risen to an officer ranking. She was probably lucky to have inherited this space from a wealthy relative.

Talos moved to secure the rental immediately and I was forced to agree. The lodgings were cleaner and more spacious than any I had encountered. I spared a moment to wonder why the price was so reasonable but feared asking would automatically cause an increase in price.

“You may move in your things at your convenience,” Ms. Jenn, our new proprietor said once our credit deposit cleared. I called my hotel to have them move my things so that Talos could take the speeder back to his temporary lodgings.

My personal effects arrived promptly and I had set about organizing my rooms when I heard Talos return. I heard several loud thumps and went to investigate. There in the hall I found Talos attempting to fit several large rectangular machines through a narrow doorway. Anxious not to upset our new landlord, I helped him maneuver the bulky items without further damage.

“Talos, what are these things?”

“These are for my research.” He said happily, “I’ve started quite a career since I left the Imperial Reclamation Service.”

“I thought you used to work for a Sith.”

“I did, and she calls on me occasionally, but she’s far too busy to be mucking about in tombs. She doesn’t know what she’s missing.” He said a bit sadly and stared off into space, perhaps thinking of his former crew. I knew the feeling and waited for him to continue, but when he failed to take up the conversation again, I was forced to prompt him.

“And what do you do with your research?”

“Why, save the galaxy of course.” He beamed enigmatically and resumed putting away his belongings.

I shook my head, unable to get anything further from him and returned to my rooms.

Over the next weeks, we developed an acceptable routine, dining together on occasion but mostly keeping to ourselves. I set about finding a suitable occupation for someone of my extensive skillset outside the military. It was proving to be most difficult as every aspect of Imperial life with any value was deeply tied to the military structure.

I am by no means a busybody but I was not used to idleness and I began to grow curious of Talos’s various visitors. Quite a few of them appeared to be Sith but several were ordinary Imperials. Many of them carried small boxes that they held away from themselves almost fearfully. When they left, they were usually happier or relieved. I began to take notes on the kinds of people and whenever possible the artifacts they carried with them, if anything it was something to do.

One morning, I saw an article on a datapad, written by an anonymous author, Force Blinds Investigating Ghosts and Ancient Murders, in the article were details of how a person without the Force could set about not only investigating ancient artifacts but also calming angry force-ghosts and even releasing them from their bindings.

“Preposterous,” I muttered finishing the article.

“What is?” Talos asked.

“This article, how can a force-blind do anything against the spirits that lurk within tombs or attach themselves to artifacts. Such things are best left to the Sith.” I decreed tossing aside the datapad.

“A force-blind can do so much more than what we’re given credit for,” Talos said reproachfully, “I wrote that article and I have been most successful at allaying the spirits of force ghosts both willing and otherwise. ”

“You wrote this?” I gestured at the article, “Talos, these are such heretical claims that I am surprised you have not been taken to Sith Intelligence for interrogation.”

Talos beamed, “Sith Intelligence contracts me on occasion.” He would have continued but his personal comm beeped before he could say more.

Talos answered and placed the device on the table. There a hooded figure stood, “Talos,” it rasped.

“My lord,” Talos said respectfully.

“We need you to come to the Dark Temple, another group has gone missing again.”

“Right away, my lord.” Talos bobbed his head and the transmission ended.

“That was Lord Variath.” I had encountered him before.

“Indeed,” Talos said bubbling with excitement. He ran to his rooms and returned with a wide array of custom devices that he strapped to his person. He headed to the exit and paused, “Well are you coming?”

“You want me to come with you?” I asked incredulously.

“If you’ve nothing better to do.” He replied.

Indeed, I had not. I followed him out wondering where this new path would take me.

I don't know what this is but it's a weird thing I kind of had in the back of my head in the Remi Galaxy when I was trying to figure out what to do with Quinn since killing him would lead to far too much happiness. There's a lot of Remi Galaxy in my head canon and I'm jumping around all over the place.