The sound of at least ten pirates laughing at him was the final straw. The bounty hunter yanked his shield generator off, threw it on the ground, and shot it.

"Drix? What are you doing?" Mako's voice was incredulous.

"What I shoulda done hours ago."

Bobbing and weaving, making the pirates miss, he grabbed his second blaster off his belt and reverted back to the messy, sloppy, utter train wreck of a style that had won him the Great Hunt. He took several hits to his armor, and one or two that penetrated and just made him madder. But soon he had shot, stabbed, blown up, or run over every one of the pirates, and had them all down.

As was his habit, he prowled around the pile of mangled humanity, putting a blaster bolt in the head of anything that so much as gurgled.

Mako was pulling out several kolto patches, preparing a few skin weaves, and glaring at Drix furiously. Suddenly, she laughed, making him scowl -- his permanent expression -- even harder. "You're the only hunter I've ever heard of that uses a speederbike as a melee weapon."

The corner of his mouth quirked up as he sat down to let her treat his wounds. It was the closest he ever came to a smile unless they were alone on the ship. "Kinda heavy to use as a projectile."

"So what exactly did you think you were doing?"

"Look, Mako. I know you're trying to protect me, but I can't do that by protecting you...while you're protecting me. This defensive crap ain't workin' out. My best defense has always been a great offense."

She sighed, having had this conversation with him before. "Yeah, but between all the explosions and the screaming and the lack of a shield...you might attract more firepower than you can handle."

He winced as she touched the blaster burn on his shoulder. "Bring 'em on, I'd prefer a straight fight to all this sneaking around."

"You know we're gonna make less money bringing every bounty in dead." She looked around distastefully. "...and possibly in pieces. And we're going to keep going through way too much kolto just keeping you together, big guy."

"Yup."

She leaned over him a little further, her face inches from his. "You're never going to change, are you?"

"Why? You want me to?"

"No. But this would be a perfect time for you to tell me how great I am." If either one of them thought about the fact that they were kissing passionately while surrounded by two dozen corpses, they might have found it a bit macabre.

Then again, what isn't macabre in the life of a hunter...or at least this one.

I actually have two Swaindrixes...on one server, he's a dark-side merc. On the other, he's a light-side Powertech. I guess I'm channeling one trying to be the other in this story. I never did get along with the whole "tank with a healer" vibe (me being a native DPS kinda guy) and gratefully clung to Gault as soon as he came on board with my Powertech.

EDIT: And a shoutout to Han Solo in there.

"You have no right to take part in such a glorious hunt, you alien filth." The words made their way from the center of the D-5 Mantis and into the ears of the drowsy bounty hunter named Burzek. The Zabrak's eyes opened wide at the sound of the familar voice. Burzek had thought-had known-that he would never hear the sound of Tarro Blood's voice again, but there it was. At first, the half awake hunter was at a loss of actions, words, even thoughts for that matter, then the memories of Tarro Blood filled the empty hole which was (at this time) his mind. The deaths of Braden and Jory, the constant back-stabbing and betrayels, and countless wrong doings by the supposedly dead Mandalorian came to mind. Burzek began to put the pieces together, starting with grabbing the worn blaster pistol lying a few feet away from him. As he did so, he checked to make sure Mako was still in bed beside him.

She wasn't.

The hunter runs out of his room, dressed in nothing more than boxers and with nothing else to defend himself other than the small pistol. With the safety off, Burzek takes aim and almost fires at the being crouched next to the holoterminal. If it was not for the dim blue glow of the holo, Burzek might have put a hole straight through the only girl that he loved.

"Mako!" Burzek calls out in a loud whisper. The hunter had no idea what time it was, but the absence of light was a dead giveaway that everyone else was sleeping soundly. "What in blazes are you doing?" asks the hunter. The young woman slowly rises to her feet, her face displaying pure fear and confusion mixed into one expression. Burzek couldn't help but be reminded of countless targets having the same face before he put a blaster bolt through them. Thankfully the same incident did not happen here.

"Woah there, sweetie," Mako whispers back, hands raised at chest level. "I accidentally replayed an old conversation with Tarro Blood while I was looking through some old files." The slicer walks toward Burzek, placing her two small hands around the hunter's large one. Mako gently guides the hunter's gun hand away from her face and to the ground.

"What are you even doing up at this hour?" Burzek asks, a better response not coming to mind. The hunter was obviously shaken up by the sound of his old nemesis as well as almost killing his girl.

"Couldn't sleep," Mako simply replies. "Thought I'd organize some of the different data and bounty offers so you would be surprised when you woke up."

"Well, you sure did 'surprise' me," Burzek notes, pulling Mako into a firm embrace. Mako's arms made their way around the hunter's torso, her head resting against his chest.

"Sorry, big guy, I didn't even know Tarro's message was even saved in the holoterminal. I'll delete it right now," Mako adds, quickly letting go of Burzek. The hunter was not about to let go of her, though. He continues to embrace her while his eyes drift up toward the image on the holoterminal.

Tarro Blood in his full beskar'gam armor was projected above the holoterminal in a transparent blue image. His know-it-all expression, his tattoo, and every square inch of Tarro disgusted the bounty hunter. Just seeing the hologram again made Burzek as furious as a Gundark with both of his ears chopped off.

"No. Save the image," Burzek states coldly. "Tarro'll remind me of what it took to get me here in the first place," the hunter adds. Tarro was not just an old nemesis and rival, but an object which Burzek could use to remember his past and a trophy to show off his victory over not only Tarro but the entire Great Hunt. Of course the hunter would save the image of the di'kut, just like he had saved the boots, gloves, and other trophies from the dead Mandalorian's corpse.

Burzek finally releases the small slicer, but he still kept her close to his side. "Come on, let's go back to-" The morning alarm cut off the rest of Burzek's words. Moans from Skadge and Gault as well as the excited "babbling" tongue of Blizz followed soon afterward.

"So much for that, I guess," Mako points out, a small grin on her face. "Come on, let's forget about Tarro and pretend like this morning never happened, okay? Okay," Mako adds without waiting for an answer from the hunter. All Burzek could do was return the grin. "Come on, I'll take you out for breakfast." The young slicer walks back to their room, leaving Burzek alone with the hologram of Tarro.

"I wish I had killed you earlier, creep," Burzek says under his breath before bringing his hand down on the terminal's power button. Hard.

Kark! Kriffing hangover! Miriah landed the freighter and sat for a moment in the captain’s chair. If only I could sleep like a normal person, maybe I wouldn’t have to use tequila as a sedative. She stood shakily, steadied herself, and made her way to the airlock. Wish I could just lie down for a little longer. She tidied her hair and brushed some of the wrinkles from her clothes, then ambled down the ramp.

So that’s Skavak. Slimy sort. He thinks he’s hot though. Eeeww hope he doesn’t want to have drinks or anything. It’s been awhile since I had some fun, but not with him. He’s talking, but there’s nothing I want to hear him say but goodbye. Wait, who’s this?

“Skavak, the seps have taken over the air defense cannons,” the new guy said. Hey, now he’s kinda cute.

Wow. She’s….beautiful

“You gotta name?” Nice eyes, amazing body, smells great, hope he’s single.

“Corso Riggs, m’am.” Hope she can’t tell how nervous she makes me.

Skavak can go away now. Far away. He keeps talking, but my brain can’t take much more. Need water. Or that Corso guy. Yeah, wonder if he’s available for a few drinks. But, something tells me he’s a little more complex than a night in the cantina. She watches him walk away with a sigh.

That’s it, Cor. Put one foot in front of the other one. She’s too much for you, anyway. But man, is she a beauty. He was conscious of every breath, every step, until he could turn around and watch her from a slight distance. But what if she’s The One?

“I want to share something with you, Vector,” Sha’ra’zaed said.

“Yes, Agent?” Vector answered.

She led him to her quarters. With the violet silk bed and the soft carpeting underfoot. “Sit,” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders and pushing him down gently. He did as she asked. Sha’ra’zaed circled around and knelt on the bed behind him. Embraced him. Facing the wrong way, he could not return her embrace. Instead, he relaxed into it. She kissed him behind his ear. Then slipped something inside it.

An earbud.

Then one in the other ear.

She kissed his cheek. “You asked me once what I was listening to. Here it is.” She turned the player on.

Music filled his ears. The sound of alien voices raised in song. Chords of an alien scale. “You’ve told me of the song of the universe, Vector. This is mine. The song of my universe,” Sha’ra’zaed whispered, “The song of a people I am no longer a part of.” Alien instruments, in harmony, in unison. Tears filled her eyes. Spilled over. Fell unheeded and darkened the fabric of Vector’s coat.

She watched him. Watched Vector listen to every piece of recorded music she owned. Every mood, every thought, every vagary and wish. The beautiful, the silly, the violent, the sublime. Sharing her soul in a way she couldn’t with words. She couldn't read auras and know his thoughts the way he did with her. But then again, it was Vector. She didn’t need to see his aura.

He listened as the chrono ticked off its unending count. The notes faded and he turned to her, “Thank you, Haraz. We have waited for a long time,” he said.

“For?”

He touched her hair, “To hear the song of your universe.”

“You knew,” she said, “you knew. Knew I was lying to you.”

“We know, Haraz. We've always known. Just as we know the truth in your words now. You are beautiful to us. So much more so when your words match your aura." He stroked her cheek, "I love you anyway."

"I cannot always be yours," she said. Of course he knew. She should have realized it sooner.

"You were never mine," Vector said, "you are you. Yours. You belong to no one but yourself. And I love you. With all your different faces and different voices. I love seeing you beneath all the disguises and knowing who you are. The beautiful woman you will always be."

"I, Vector?" she asked.

"I are we," he replied, "There is no difference. We know how you feel about us, regardless. That which you cannot quite understand about us is part of what you love." He stroked her cheek again. Pulled locks of indigo hair free and let it cascade over her shoulders. "Can you not imagine that we, that I, feel the same?" He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, “That we can love you, every you?” he whispered, “And we have from nearly the first.”

She took his hand in hers, “Vector, this, this us, it won’t ever work. Not the way you want. I’m not human,” she said.

“Does it matter so much?” he asked.

“My people are not Human,” she objected, “and the Empire are not my people.”

“The killiks aren't ours,” he said, regaining his hand, “We still hear their song.”

“You love the Empire in a way I cannot,” she said.

“We love you,” he said, “The beauty of the Killik song is in the individual voices. No two voices sing the same. Together they create something more. Let us be a part in your song, Haraz. The song of your universe. For as long as you wish it.”

“I--”

“Listen,” he said, “listen to our song for a little while. And consider. Please, consider.” He kissed her, and she heard the sound of his heart beating in the touch of his lips.

Jasin shook his head and sat up out of bed...and smacked his head hard into the bottom of the bunk above him. He scowled. Since when did he sleep in a bunk bed? He had his own quarters aboard his ship, with Kira. He rolled out of bed and reached for his closet.

And he wasn't in his room.

He looked around. He was in a dormitory-style room with four bunks. Other than them, the room was empty. It took him a moment to realize his articles were under his bed. Pulling the mattress up, he pulled out his Jedi robes and frowned at them. Blue robes? And no outer cloak? What is going on here? He picked up his lightsaber and clipped it to his (blue?) belt and left the dormitory. Maybe this was just an elaborate prank, and Doc and Kira had moved him down here into the dorms in the middle of the night.

But no, the hallway he entered did not have a stairway to the top floor of the Defender, where his quarters, the bridge, and the main hold should've been. Frowning, he walked out into the center of the ship; the main hold. It was arrayed like a classic Corellian ship; cockpit forward of the main hold and the cargo hold directly behind, with crew quarters on either side.

No, this definitely wasn't a joke...unless his friends had swapped ships with someone else and dragged him aboard. But while he was sleeping?

Ahead, standing at the console, was a tall, muscular man in a brown sleeveless vest, tan pants, and metal combat boots. Jasin didn't know him...but he looked strangely familiar.

"Hey, Revan," the man said, turning, "I–who the shab are you?"

Jasin frowned. "I could ask the same thing."

The man scowled. "I am Canderous Ordo. Now, again, who are you?"

Jasin raised an eyebrow. "You asked if I was Revan. And you're...oh, kriff, I think I know what happened."

"What are you talking about?" Ordo asked.

A woman in tan-and-brown Jedi robes and a man in an orange flight jacket entered from the cockpit. The woman saw Jasin and stepped back in shock. The orange-jacketed man whipped out his blaster pistol and trained it on Jasin. Jasin reached for his lightsaber.

"Wait!" he said. "I have to tell you something."

"Where is Revan?" asked the woman–Bastila Shan, Jasin assumed.

"That's what I have to tell you."

"Who are you?" the jackected man–Carth Onasi–asked. "How do I know I can trust you?"

Jasin rolled his eyes. Oh, boy, working with this guy will be fun.

* * *

Revan frowned at the woman, the droid, the Sith Pureblood, the Chagrian, and the human man. Who were they and what was this ship? The woman, red-brown hair askew, looked at him with eyes like daggers. It wasn't his fault he'd awakened next to her.

"Oh, boy," the Sith Pureblood muttered. "This is going to take a lot of explaining..."

In honor of KOTOR's 10th Anniversary. Don't expect a follow-up on this, it was just a funny one-shot.

The Emperor's Wrath approached the doorway. He clasped his hands behind his back and studied the face of the Jedi through the green haze of the ray shield.

"What a mystery the Force can be," he said, "I come seeking a traitor, but found you instead."

The Jedi stared back awestruck by the magnificence of the man standing before her. "Take him," Remi said her mouth hanging open slightly, "and me too."

The Sith arched a browridge, "Reckonings arrive at their own pace, no need to rush them." He sized her up further reaching out with his mind and other senses, "You're strong and touched by darkness. That is unexpected."

"I like being touched by darkness," she replied eagerly.

"Err," he said attempting to regain his composure. "You may keep the council traitor, I must go and uh tell my master about our meeting, I won't disappoint him with delays. Farewell for now."

He walked away quickly while Remi moved as close as she could to the shield, watching him disappear into the darkness.

"Is it hot in here, or is it just you two?" Doc asked with a grin. Remi blushed furiously and ran off to write Mrs. Wrath on her datapad a hundred times.

"And that," Doc said over the laughter of the assembled audience, "is how Remi and Scourge first met."

He raised his glass to toast the guests of honor, his longtime friends sat at the back of the room under a banner proclaiming their fiftieth anniversary. Remi's face was as red as her hair had once been, but she wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. Scourge did not laugh but his lack of scowl was as close to approval as Doc thought he would ever get. They raised their glasses to him and shared a kiss, the guests went back to conversation and Doc returned to Kira's side. She elbowed him in the ribs and shook her head.

Aela, Doc's granddaughter, ran to Remi's table. The Jedi was her favorite aunt. Remi smiled and pulled the girl onto her lap for a hug. "Was that really what happened?" She knew her grandfather's penchant for stories but as far as she knew Remi never lied.

Remi smiled, her eyes disappearing in a mass of wrinkles. "Not exactly," she said then glanced up at Scourge who kissed her forehead in response. "But it might as well have been."

If Doc is with you when you meet Scourge he says "Is it freezing in here, or is that just my blood crystallizing?" after Scourge leaves.

Scourge is so very lucky that I didn't control the responses to anything he said in the game. I'd probably be worse than Doc with my bad pick up lines.

Captain Quinn was reciting inventory. It was a great skill of his, reciting inventory, and yet a useless one since he always knew exactly what was to be done with the information and could therefore skip the droning notification without impacting operations at all if he wanted to. Nevertheless Nalenne paid attention, mostly, until he reached a conclusion.

"Very good," she said, so as to reassure him that he'd gotten the droning right. "I have to ask. You just catalog all that in your head?"

"Well, yes, my lord. Until such as time as it becomes necessary to file a–"

"Yes, yes." It put ideas in her head. A lot of things about Quinn did that. "I have a job for you," she said.

He straightened in a barely-perceptible puff of apprehension. "My lord?"

She beckoned him to the cargo bay, which contained over a dozen large crates loaded with hundreds of comic books in individual flimsiplast sleeves. Larger lockers to one side held shelves of omnibus anthologies.

"I'm missing way too many issues," said Nalenne, waving at her collection.

"I see," said Quinn, in the voice of a man who leaned more toward believing she had too many issues.

"So you're going to memorize my inventory. Then you're going to monitor…whatever it is you monitor–"

"Channels, my lord–"

"–right, channels, for any of the comics I'm missing. Duranium Man, Captain Kaas, any Ultraguys with halfway decent writers, Annihilators. You find them, you buy them."

"I see, my lord. How much am I authorized to spend on this endeavor?"

"Anything and everything. If credits worry you, then if any one haul is too expensive, just plan me a raid on whoever's holding onto it."

"An…eminently practical solution, my lord. It will be done."

"That's my Captain."

@Bright, Way to go, Nalenne, putting Quinn’s skills to good use. And I liked the trio of Colran pieces as well, especially the description of Alderaan being “the kind of place that would cross the street if it saw Nar Shaddaa slouching down the sidewalk.” It says as much about Nar Shaddaa as it does Alderaan. Very fitting.

@Kabeone, Accurate or not, Doc’s version of events is highly entertaining. And I love this innuendo:

"I like being touched by darkness," she replied eagerly.

@Yoshi, The switcheroo was very fun! And in the politicians piece...what a terrible blow for Aaran, especially considering all he’d done to help people there. Nothing like getting voted off the planet to say thanks for all the good work.

@ Magdalane, I loved this peek at what Miriah and Corso were thinking when they met. So cute, and so very Corso to ponder whether Miriah could be “the One” after saying about five words to her.

@ RatchetGuyClanks, Welcome! I thought you captured Mako really well, and while I’m only a little ways into my BH story, I already want to punch that Tarro Blood in the face. Burzek’s reaction to the holo is totally justified.

@Adwynyth, Speederbikes as weapons! Nothing wrong with that.

@alaurin,

“But they’re all my favorites!” Bella cried.

I sympathize! But ice cream after the deed is done would make things slightly better. And there’s always the fun of rebuilding the collection to look forward to.

@Frauzet, A belated welcome to the thread! I really enjoyed your story. The loving bickering between your bounty hunter and Mako was great. Look forward to more!

@Lesaberisa, I have to say, Ally’s names for her animals are downright adorable...even Steve. And I like the moment Veresia shares with Andronikos, especially in the context of her being unaware of the things he’s done in his past. That moment of sadness and regret between them is touching.

@Selentar, Zairos is a clever villain, the very best kind. His little game of “find the spy” was wonderfully twisted.

@Yoshi - As someone who worked for a bit in government, yes, politicians suck. REALLY suck

@Bright - I really love Colran's story so far. Although from that picture you linked...Pierce Jr. = eek! As for your second post

It was a great skill of his, reciting inventory, and yet a useless one since he always knew exactly what was to be done with the information and could therefore skip the droning notification without impacting operations at all if he wanted to

Quinn's comfort 'food'...makes a lot of sense

@ Selentar - As a fan of writing people poisoning people at dinner, I like Zairos. Well, I don't like him, but you know what I mean

@alaurin - Ice cream, a girl's real best friend. I like your Risha (and I liked the friendship she/my smuggler had too) and she has good taste in comfort food when it comes to dark days.

@Adwynyth - ha! waited until I got home, good for me. Especially because of

If either one of them thought about the fact that they were kissing passionately while surrounded by two dozen corpses, they might have found it a bit macabre.

@RatchetGuyClanks - Welcome to the thread, and a wonderful start I really like your Burzek/Mako interactions and liked the reflections on Tarro Blood (killing him = great times for my BH too)

@Magdalane - I really like Miriah/Corso and I liked showing the differing thoughts (especially Corso's....very Corso )

@Striges - I love that story (and take full credit for inspiring it! One thing I really liked about the Vector romance was the way his Joiner perception made some really beautiful dialogue. Your later comments on their relationship strike me as very true - my agent (also Chiss) and Vector would probably view each other very similarly.

@kabe - I smiled throughout, I really like Remi/Scourge (especially your version of Scourge, where's that depth you don't get in game

Andronikos was a big problem for me when mapping Veresia's story. I had a hard time figuring out how to get her to tolerate him given their respective histories, so I decided to cheat a bit by having her not know that he wasn't really a "good" pirate...she needs some sanity (read: not Khem) in her life at that point, and the truth can come out later. When it's totally inconvenient, of course.

The entire network had been running slowly for some time. At first, I assumed it was merely random fluctuations within the power system, but 2V-R8 had determined that power was being actively rerouted to the room Khem had taken residence in. I decided to investigate.

I entered the hold and found Khem seated in front of the console, with what appeared to be headphones around what passed for his ears. Cautiously, I made my way over to him, not wanting to startle him and provoke him into consuming my Force essence or, worse, attracting the droid's attention.

"Khem." No response. "Khem Val." Still nothing, so I tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Finally, he realized I was there. After a moment, he removed his headphones and rose to face me. He seemed quite irritated.

<Little Sith, why do you intrude?>

I picked up the headphones and pressed them against my ear, and was rewarded with the harmonious tune of Corellian jazz. "Khem, how much music have you downloaded off the Holonet? 2V-R8 estimated that our systems are running 16% below peak efficiency."

He suddenly looked furtively around the room. <I am...I am studying the music of this era to better understand its weaknesses.> Even he didn't sound convinced.

I wasn't convinced either, not after the song abruptly changed to some sort of romantic melody, with the singer crooning about her heart would go on and on. I glanced at Khem suspiciously, but he would not meet my gaze. I scrolled through the list of music he had been listening to and found it to be rather....eclectic. Corellian jazz, love ballads, music that would have come straight from the average club on Nar Shaddaa.

I had much to learn about my new Dashade friend.

"You, uh, really like these things, don't you sweetheart?" Felix's voice was calm but I didn't need the Force to detect the undercurrent of amusement.

"I monitor my budget carefully, and I make sure I don't overspend." I hoped I didn't sound as defensive as I felt, I had enough trouble on my hands as it was, with Ami still being upset about the chocolate.

He touched the Bastila Shan outfit gently, but not gently enough for my taste. I had to exert a lot of energy restraining myself from defending my wardrobe to the bitter end. Felix seemed to sense my discomfort, so he moved on, past Carth Onasi's outfit, the replica of Darth Malak's armor, and even my unfinished set of clothing based on Meetra Surik's companion, Mira. Instead, he seemed focused on the form-fitting armor I had just purchased a few days before.

"Which one is this one? Looks kind of dark for a Jedi." He paused, then turned towards me and gave me a mischievous look, one eyebrow raised. "Unless there's something about me you're waiting to share."

I hated how prone to blushing I seemed to be as of late, but I couldn't help it. "No, nothing at all. It was an armor set worn by someone named Thana Vesh, apparently a Sith that was on Taris when it fell."

Felix looked confused. "They're selling authentic replica armor for someone who's still alive? And is Imperial?"

"I heard she's dead, actually, but I'm not sure." I shrugged. "I guess it sells. What the people demand, the market supplies, right?" I put a cheerful face on, hoping to get him away from my closet. I almost succeeded.

He'd been scanning the room carefully while I was talking, and his eye had caught the relaxed vestments collection I'd been saving for our anniversary. He turned towards me, eyebrow raised even higher and a goofy expression on his face.

Sometimes I wondered whether it was all worth it.

My arm hung loosely around Kira's narrow shoulders as we ambled up into the ship. It had been a great night back on Coruscant after Belsavis. Some slightly more civilized company but only just. The opera was just fantastic and I felt almost normal as I took my girl out for some fun. I had kicked the rest of the crew off the ship for some well needed rest. Even big sith hopped off for the night. That did had a bit of arm twisting and promising that he could show me some dark side something...can't remember what exactly I had signed myself up for but I was just glad to have the ship to ourselves.

As the door shut behind us I turned Kira towards me, a cheeky grin already on her face.

'Yes?' My eyebrow was raised.

All the response I got was her hand pulling me down the stairs towards Doc and Scourge's quarters.

'Engine room hey?' It made sense, it was the last place that we had on our list. Getting into Doc's room was a bit tricky but hey, giving him credits for the night a few weeks ago worked.

As we were passing Doc's room I noticed the door was shut. Doc never shut his door...even when getting changed. My feet stopped before his door. Quiet music slipped into my ears. Sharply I turned to my girl. He was still here! A frown burrowed it's way onto my face. Stretching out I could feel Doc in there but he was calm, far more calm than I had ever felt him. I was annoyed that he had stayed on the ship.

With a wave of my hand the door was ripped off its hinges and I stopped mute in the doorway. Kira's hand shoved me into the room and I felt her shock radiate around the room. Doc was already on his feet, a thin, sharp object pointing out at me, so small I could barely feel in.

'What...what are you doing?' I shuttered.

On his bed, a ray of colours, sizes and textures overwhelmed my eyes and my fixed them back on the man in question.

'Well...this is awkward.' Doc ran a hand through his hair.

'So you know I'm good with my hands. Patched you lot up often enough. Well...it just seemed like a good thing to do to keep my fingers nimble and mind sharp when focusing on small details.' Words failed me. Beside me Kira moved towards the bed and held one up against her body.

'Ooo, this is great work. I mean not as good as mine but great. What size does it come in?' She bubbled with excitement.

'Hold on a minute! Doc what are you doing?!'

'I am a Doctor and a sewer.' He calmly pronounced this while leaning against the wall as if he was talking about another of his great conquest that night.

'You what?'

'I...make clothing; garments; things you wear.'

Silence fell between us.

'I'm going to get a drink.' I turned and marched out of his room and up to my quarters. My doctor is currently down stairs making clothing with my girl.

I sat on the edge of the bed and slowly drank that glass of whiskey.

Euphrosyne - Ilum, right? What part did you get stuck on?

marissalf - You really nailed the exhaustion of a hard-fought, nobody’s-winning-anytime-soon conflict. I could just imagine how tired and weary Voslic and crew would be. Well done!

Lesaberisa - I agree with the others; great look at how fatigued everyone would be (really, it's sort of silly how long these wars supposedly go on in the Star Wars universe). I also really like your Elara, I think you've got her motivations/"nature" down well (/Elarafangirl)

bright_ephemera - the frustration of a hard op came through loud and clear. Also d'aw, Elara

Striges - Your trooper’s frustration was palpable. You did a good job of capturing a rare moment of defeat for Havoc squad. As well as that determination to succeed at all costs.

Wynston reeled out of the Citadel's central offices and into a warm slap of Kaas City's humid air. Sith.

Two things had become clear from his audience with Darth Jadus; first, Wynston was not nearly so resistant to Force tricks as he wished he could be, and second, Jadus was insane. It wasn't just the deadening aura about him, it was his talking about spreading "the ways of the Sith to the Empire entire" with a highlight on "fear and degradation."

He surreptitiously wiped his palms as he walked. Trained habit straightened his back and brought him into a brisk confident gait as he made his way toward the Intelligence wing. He felt more himself with every step. More himself, more ready to leave that crawling chill behind, more ready to analyze the madman from whose presence he had just escaped.

He would do Jadus's work. The alternative was death, and Wynston's dying would serve no one. He would do Jadus's work, but damned if he wouldn't try to sort out what the Darth was really up to. Whatever steps it took, it probably wasn’t in the people’s interest and that meant it needed sabotaging. Wynston would be ready for it. There. Easy decision.

How exactly he would make the slightest difference against a member of the Dark Council, he didn’t know. Jadus was to the Sith of Wynston’s experience so far what a gundark was to so many gnats. And Jadus had had one thing right about him: to his superiors he was very nearly nobody. A low-level Chiss operative, not exactly on a rising career track; he didn’t have the resources to police or defy the Council. But he was “chosen,” some degree of special, to be placed within the very assignments he wanted to monitor; he could work with that. Someone had to watch Jadus. Anybody who could press that creeping horror on someone needed watching. Anything like that ought to be wiped out of existence the instant it acted against anything more valuable than one spare Intelligence agent. Some way, somehow. Before 'the Empire entire' felt it.

He strolled into HQ, nodding cordially at a few familiar faces as he passed through the halls. This was home. It was order, sanity. He could breathe here. It was a relief to see Watcher Two standing at the big board in the command center, concentrating on the rapidly scrolling sub-display in the corner. Wynston took up station in her peripheral vision and waited. He didn't like to interrupt her calculations.

She looked over a few seconds later and greeted him with a trace of a smile. "Agent," she said. "I didn't expect to see you."

"Reporting for duty." He could hold his voice steady; good. Intelligence personnel did their share of commiserating over Sith treatment, but Jadus's actions were different. He couldn’t let anyone think he couldn’t handle it. "I...received Jadus's briefing. I thought I would get down to it right away, starting with anything you can tell me about the terrorist conspirators here."

"It's already late. You should get some rest. We can brief you in the morning." She looked sympathetic.

Her sympathy only redoubled his determination. "I'm ready to go now," he said. Please.

"Things aren't in place yet. Take the evening off, agent."

Well. No relief here. "Very well." He couldn't even summon a flirtatious line for her. "Until then, good night."

"Good night." Another polite smile, this one shot through with curiosity – it occurred to him, too late, that to a pattern-tracker like her missing the expected banter was as good as admitting he’d been shaken – and then she turned back to her work.

Wynston left, feeling a little comfort in the slow return of circulation, the gradual warming of his limbs. He thought about calling Kaliyo for drinks. Nothing to prove his aliveness like dancing and exchanging barbs with a beautiful woman. Or maybe a stranger instead, someone easier, someone willing to brush away the memory of that deadening darkness that still crept over his skin. Yes. Tonight, drinks, dancing, any reminder he could get of being alive. Tomorrow he would face the world like normal again. Tomorrow...felt far away across the tattered landscape of his mind.

Bloody Sith.

In my headcanon Wynston worked with Watcher Two for a while before the game started (and harassed her more or less continually), and it was Jadus who ordered his promotion/redesignation to Cipher agent. Thus ended his dull workmanlike career and thus began his ascent.

Wynston held still when he woke up. Name: Darnek. Inventory: unclothed, well rested, no injuries, mildly thirsty; surroundings, some hotel bed, clean but far from upscale; no unusual sounds, just the low ambient hum of the hotel complex; a thread of the outside reek of pollution hanging in the air; much more to the point, a woman beside him, her back turned, her body feverishly warm. A moment's listening confirmed that she was deep asleep.

Good. He stayed aware of her steady breathing while he rolled over and reached down for the holo at the bedside. Two new messages there; he flicked the voice-to-text option and read. Watcher X, more recitations of thoughts so scattered Wynston doubted any sane genius could connect them. He didn't trust the insane genius to do a much better job. The other note was from his connections down in the network access district, delivering him a lead on the whereabouts of the elusive Lord Rathari – Ruth should be pleased with that. As assignments from overbearing Sith went, "assist my apprentice with her search" – and such an apprentice, too – wasn't all that bad. He would have to keep Darth Baras in mind as a potential ally of Intelligence; he was devious and cruel but he might prove useful one day.

He punched the holo off and dropped it when he heard Ruth's soft sigh. He stayed there, relaxed, until she moved over to touch him; then he stretched and rolled over to face her.

She was pretty, this girl named Ruth, with bright blue eyes, a rosebud mouth, short brown hair currently in charming disarray. She was pretty, and if he hadn't fallen in by chance at her side for one day on Dromund Kaas he would never have guessed what a fighting powerhouse she was. There were potential allies that could be useful, and then there were potential allies he truly wanted. This, her, Sith though she was, perhaps in part because she was Sith and still good...

"Hello there," he said.

"Hey." She yawned and smiled.

"How are you feeling?"

"Mm. Good."

"You look divine." He kissed her, gentle and slow. "If there's some point in your daily cycle where you're anything less than breathtaking, you've been very successful in hiding it."

"Try me halfway through a fight to the death," she said with a little smile. "I'm pretty sure that doesn't end up glamorous."

"I'll take your word for it, but you may be being too hard on yourself." She was casting about for the sheets, so he drew them up to her shoulders with one hand and lightly stroked her cheek with the other. "You know I'm considering sabotaging your job so you're stuck here searching for a while yet?"

"Don't even joke, Darnek. You know I need–"

"I know. I wouldn't. You need." He kissed her, caught her full lower lip in his teeth. "You need," he repeated softly, sliding his hand over and around her lean smooth body, listening for the catch in her breath, searching for another. "And I am here, to give you, what you need."

One of the better ways to start a work day, all things considered.

Kaliyo sauntered onto the bridge and leaned against the navicomputer, blocking the big nav chart. “I really thought you were going to take her home with you,” she drawled.

She had been teasing Wynston about the young Sith Ruth all week: his nights had been devoted to the girl but his days by necessity had been working at Kaliyo’s side. He had to expect a little grief. Now that they were off Nar Shaddaa with nothing better to do, he was expecting a lot.

“Just what would I do with something that sweet?” he said blandly.

“The same thing you do with all the others?”

“I believe I already did.” There, Kaliyo's level of class. Jarring after Ruth, but he spoke both languages. "So, what do you think of the odds that the turncoat lead on Tatooine is a trap?"

"Guaranteed," said Kaliyo. "We might get a good fight out of it, though. - Ooh, I got an idea, we take Miss Sith and get her to ask nicely. Maybe that'll work better."

Saying 'let it go' would only encourage her. "We're not adopting 'Miss Sith.'"

“You want to.”

“Stars, no.” The pretty idealist was certainly more to his liking than, say, Kaliyo, but he didn’t do long-term partners. Even looking to just the next job or two, Ruth was well out of his pay grade; she might be kind to amusing Force-blind aliens but she must have limits somewhere. And, while wonderful and promising and a valuable ally to call on in the future, she didn’t belong in his world. He wasn’t quite sure where a creature like her did belong. Dead, he feared. Someplace bright and influential, he hoped.

“I bet she wanted you to talk idealistic to her. Better Empire, humane something-or-other, blah blah, allll the way to the finish.”

“Something along those lines,” he said dryly.

“I knew it. Bet you meant it, too.” Her eyes gleamed, waiting for the response which, he knew, she expected to be disgusting by her standards.

“Jealous?” he said instead. “I could talk policy with you, you just don’t seem to enjoy it very much. So I get my kicks elsewhere.”

“Real cute. You really would wax Imperial with the girl you picked up off the street, wouldn’t you?”

He grinned idly. Kaliyo was still something of a puzzle. She claimed to be a get off and get out type, but she wanted something else on top of that: she wanted to feel like she was getting away with something. He had put some thought into what advantages he could let her think she had over him. He wanted the question answered sooner rather than later, both for his safety and for the recreational possibilities unlocked thereby. Until then he could sling absurdities and wait. “I still come home to you, don’t I?”

She threw up her hands. “Please. I still say you and me should blow this gig, find a job with better benefits. It’ll be fun. Maybe fewer easy Sith, but fun.”

He shook his head. “Stick with me.” He had been charged with keeping her around. Dangerous, with the payoff to Intelligence unclear, but he had to try. “The pay’s good and the benefits just fall into your lap on some planets.”

“What, like her? She's so far down 'vanilla' she's fallen off the menu.”

He shrugged. “All right, maybe something comes your way next time.” He looked her over and smiled with practiced carelessness. “We could sync that up for convenience’ sake.”

“You’ll have to try harder than that, agent.”

“Well, from now until the next easy Sith comes along my time’s all yours, or could be. Think about it. Tonight? Over drinks?”

Kaliyo snorted. “Try that again when you don’t stink of schoolgirl.”

He shrugged again, grinning now. “If that’s how you want me.” The pretty Sith didn’t belong in his world, but there were diversions to be found without her. Kaliyo, sooner or later, would be one of them. And, crazy though she was, his motivations in keeping her occupied were more than just a self-preservation tactic.

“You should be so lucky,” she said, but she was preening.