When Nalenne got onto the ship, Vette greeted her at a sprint. “It’s Broonmark, in the mess. You gotta come knock him out or something.”

“What’s up?”

“Ordinarily I wouldn’t interrupt a murder attempt on the captain, but Broonmark doesn’t seem likely to – “

Nalenne was already past her, running.

When she got to the mess door, Broonmark had one huge hand wrapped around Quinn’s throat and was lifting the officer off the ground while roaring in his face. The Talz waved one arm in the direction of the dish-littered kitchen sink as he held forth in a loud tortured gurgle. As Nalenne came to a halt, Broonmark threw the captain away, slamming him into the far wall.

When Quinn recovered he had his blaster out. “Hold,” ordered Nalenne, and Force pushed Broonmark against the counter. “Explain.”

“He’s a murderous animal,” said the captain.

“Wggglorpbop,” said Broonmark.

“Hey, I thought you were going to be my loyal and bad***-looking servant,” Nalenne told the Talz. “What gives?”

Broonmark shuffled aside and indicated the sink. A neat stack of dirty plates and bowls occupied the left half. Another bowl and a cup were on the right. Broonmark pointed at those two with one scythelike claw. “Wogglipprbl.”

“I don’t get it. He shouldn’t use those dishes?”

“Blop.” He didn’t seem satisfied.

“Um…he shouldn’t leave those specific dishes in the sink?”

“Blop.”

“He shouldn’t touch dishes at all?”

“RRBLOP!”

“I don’t understand what you want!”

“Rrgt.” Broonmark took the bowl from the right side of the sink. He presented it for Nalenne’s examination, then set it on the neat stack on the left side. “Gglorp.”

“Um,” said Nalenne.

Broonmark set the cup on top of the stack, then moved the faucet head to the now-empty right side and started running water. “Aggbp.” He grabbed a glass from the cupboard and placed it under, waving it around to demonstrate the free space before filling it up. “Rrgbp. Woggglort bblibbbl.”

“Um,” said Nalenne. “Leaving that half of the space free means you can, uh, fill stuff up and whatever, and then you can handle the dirty dishes at your leisure, and you clearly feel very strongly that this is a superior system to the one we had in place before you came along?”

“Blip.”

“And you had to try to murder my XO to get this point across?”

Broonmark turned his head toward Quinn. “Hgzzzzt.”

“You had to try to murder my XO just because?”

Broonmark nodded decisively. “Blip.”

“Can we kill him now, my lord?” said Quinn.

“No. No, I think he has a point, behind all the crazed aggression. We can go with this system.” She looked back to Broonmark. “But, we won’t be opening future conversations by murdering my crew. You’re teaching me Talz.”

5 BTC. The Niral compound, 200 km west of Kaas City.

Colran worked among the lilies in the Niral estate’s gardens. The gardens made a pleasant contrast to the turbulence of Kaas City, where he had spent close to nine years bailing against the bloody Sith tide.

He had dreamed last night. The third night in a row, blood on the snow. His dreams had gotten more vivid over the years. Many such dreams were random images; a few were scraps of something that felt like more. People, places, unfamiliar. He had never mentioned them to his schoolmates at the Korriban academy. His Jedi master had downplayed their significance…but always wanted to know what he recognized from them.

Once again, it was nothing Colran could make sense of. Snow was pretty universal. So was blood.

Where’s Dolarra? he wondered. He wondered that every few hours when she was out on a mission.

As if on cue, his holocommunicator buzzed. The holocall was from some obscured frequency. Likely Dolarra or one of her Intelligence colleagues, then. Colran hurried to the full-size holo inside the house and activated the line.

The image was somewhat sketchy, but it was Dolarra, bundled up in slightly bulky full-coverage clothes. “Hey, stranger,” she said. “How’s the lap of luxury treating you?”

“Awfully comfortable. Your daughter’s enjoying it, too. You should come visit sometime.”

She grinned. “What, and miss out on the march of civilization here? I have the honor to be addressing you from a brand new comm station, first one we’ve ever had around here. It’s all very posh.” Her tone softened. “We’re making progress, love.”

Where? Is it Imperial space, or at least some place we’re close to securing? “Good,” he said. “Let me fetch Ruth, I’ll only be a moment.”

Their four-year-old daughter was the spitting image of her mother. Colran swept her up out of the playroom. “Guess who called?” he said.

Ruth’s eyes lit up. “Mum!” He never brought her to the holo for anybody else.

Colran carried Ruth back out to the holo room, but the image there was fuzzing and flickering, then filling out to a textured white, like snow. Before he reached the base the image flared and vanished.

He took a few seconds playing with the controls, trying to reestablish contact, but he had no luck. He had a bad feeling about it.

“Whoops,” he told Ruth, with more cheer than he felt. “Mum went and had to go work more.”

Ruth made a face. “Mum should work here.”

“Right here? In the house?”

“Yes.”

“She wouldn’t have a lot to do here.”

“I could make Empire enemies. Mister Gundark could be an Empire enemy to fight.”

“Bah. I bet she could bring Mister Gundark around in three seconds flat.”

Ruth considered. She seemed genuinely torn as to who would prevail. “Maaaaybe,” she said doubtfully. “She should work here anyway. I miss her.”

“Me too, honey. Me too.”

“Can I have a cookie now?”

Trust Ruth to keep her priorities straight and focused. “Not now. Later, before bed, okay?”

“Mph. Okay.”

He sent her on her way, then turned back to the holoprojector. He didn’t feel right about losing that call.

Some stranger at Imperial Intelligence HQ answered him. “Colran Niral,” said Colran, without giving the man a chance to start. “I just got off a holocall with my wife, Agent Dolarra. It cut off suddenly. I want to know why.”

“Was this call from HQ, my lord?”

“No, the field. Can’t you look up where she’s supposed to be?”

“That isn’t something I…”

“Something broke my wife’s call. I can’t reestablish contact. I want to know why. She’s a Cipher agent. Dolarra Niral.” There was a pause. “Hurry up already.”

“My lord, I’m not aware of any comms disruptions involving the agent you’re describing. Please calm down.”

Colran couldn’t seem to stop himself. “It was a new comm post someplace. You guys must have a record, you record everything you people do. It was less than five minutes ago, should be simple to look up, so just do it already.” A pause, while the man did something at a console. “Now!”

The man finally looked up. “I’ll need to transfer you,” he said.

His image gave way to that of a woman. Grey-haired, straight-backed, a creature of poise and determination. Colran had seen her once or twice in the five years since he had married Dolarra. This was Keeper herself, the spymaster of the Empire.

“Tell me she’s coming home,” said Colran.

“You realize I can only release limited information, but – “

“Tell me Dolarra will be coming home.”

“We’ve lost comms with the location at which she has been working. It’ll be eighteen hours at a minimum before we can bring in the resources to reestablish communications, and that’s assuming the area isn’t too hot to operate in.”

Blood on the snow. “Where is she? Csilla? Hoth? Ando Prime?” Tell me it’s someplace warm. Please, tell me I’m wrong. Tell me it’s someplace warm.

“You know I can’t release that information. As soon as we have reestablished contact with her team, we will notify you.”

Colran thought back to what Dolarra had been wearing. Maybe it wasn’t cold-weather gear. Maybe it was some kind of tool-filled commando outfit. Or something.

Keeper spoke up. “We lose communications with some locations all the time. Simple factors disrupt it, and once supplies are in we fix it up again. There’s no reason to be alarmed.”

Yes, there is. “There’s more to it than that. She was in a high-risk area, wasn’t she?”

“There’s a war on, Lord Niral. Every area is high-risk.”

“Where did you send my wife to die?”

“We have no reason to believe that anything has happened to her.”

Lies. Lies. Colran raised his hand and found it easy to gather the rush of rage necessary for the effort of Force choking through a visual link alone.

It was with an eerie calm that the choking woman made a hand signal. The comm line cut out.

He stood very still and felt very useless for a little while. Keeper was right, of course. There was no solid reason to worry. Nothing. These people had it well in hand. Somebody would repair a relay somewhere and Dolarra would be right back on holo.

This sick feeling he had couldn’t have anything to do with whatever was happening a galaxy away, on the other side of silence.

He shook himself. Checked the time. He had better get Ruth to sleep. He headed back to the playroom.

Ruth was bashing Mister Gundark into the floor. “Take that, Jedi!”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Ruth looked up and beamed at him. “I told you, even Jedi have loved ones. You should try talking to him first. Maybe make him your friend.” Maybe not shoot out his holo. Maybe not shoot.

Ruth made a face. “Tried talking. He’s still mean.”

“Oh. Kill him dead, then.”

When she was done meting out justice, Colran stooped, ruffled her brown hair, and looked into those perfect blue eyes. Just like her mother’s. He hugged her very tightly. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“You said I could have cookies first.”

“A cookie. I did.” Colran forced himself to smile. “Come on, then.”

His dreams that night were blank, as if there were nothing left to see.

Rochester sighed. He was content, curled up on the bed with Broan. They had fallen asleep a few hours ago. Though he was waking, the ex-Jedi was still sound asleep beside him. Rochester moved slightly, nuzzling against Broan's chin. One arm was looped around his back, hand resting on his hip. With his movements, the position of the arm was starting to become uncomfortable, digging into his ribs. He closed his eyes and mentally calculated the time. He had a few more hours before he need to be back at his ship. He extracted himself from Broan's embrace, careful not to wake him, and smoothed his clothes. They smelt of sleep and sweat. He did not want to go but, alas, he had responsibilities. He had his hand on the door, had almost summoned one Darth Yt'klor's slaves, when he heard a voice.

"Where are you going?" Broan sounded curious and a little bit tired. He propped himself up on his elbows and fixed Rochester with a raised eyebrow.

"Just," For some reason he always found it so hard to lie to Broan. Lies were his trade; he gave them to everyone, even his mother. With Broan it was different. "Just going back to my flat. I have some things to prepare before my next jaunt across the galaxy." He smiled at Broan, but it was weak and the ex-Jedi saw right through his mask.

"Why won't you just tell me what's going on?" Broan sprang from the bed, his raised eyebrow turning quickly into a frown. Rochester turned from the door, but did not step back into the room. He fiddled with the hem of his jacket.

"I can't right now, I don't... You have far too much to think about, Broan, to worry about me. I've been fine these past few years, I can survive. Worry about yourself, you position is precarious. You're an ex-Jedi, you still-"

"I love you, Rochester, and..." There was slight hesitation in Broan's voice. "You are going to tell me what is wrong." He wanted to force Rochester to tell him, to use the tricks he knew, but he resisted. He needed Rochester to trust him. He needed to know everything was real.

"Do you even know what that means? When you say 'I love you', do you have any idea what you're saying?" Rochester's voice was harsh; he crossed his arms and leant on the door. "What it actually means?" He swallowed the hard lump that had formed in his throat and met Broan's gaze.

"I think it's pretty straight-forward!" Broan threw his arms out in frustration. He wanted to scream, he wanted to smash something, but most of all he just wanted the truth.

"You're Sith," Rochester stepped forward, his entire demeanour imploring Broan to reason. "I'll be your weakness and you can't be weak."

"You want to protect me, is that what you're saying?" Broan started to pace, then stopped. "You're avoiding my question. What is wrong?" Rochester broke eye contact. "Rochester?" The human stared at his feet, suddenly looking very nervous and small. "Tell me." Broan stepped forward, reaching out to stroke Rochester's arm. He pulled away sharply, bashing his elbow into the door.

"I'm sorry, but no. You can't know, not yet. Please just look after yourself first." Rochester fumbled with the lock on the door. He knew he was doing everything wrong; he was hurting Broan and himself.

"Are you saying...?" Broan paused, unable to look Rochester. "Are you saying we shouldn't be together?"

"No, I..." Rochester fell against the door, needing it to keep upright. He could see the pain and confusion in Broan's face; it was much greater than any he had expressed before. Idly Rochester considered how much more of a Sith Broan was becoming, how much more in touch with his emotions he was. He needed stability and certainty, something Rochester could not provide.

"Just, stop. No more excuses, no more lies, no more dancing around the truth. Tell me what is wrong." Broan's head snapped up. It was clear to see he was angry. His usually brown eyes were starting to lighten and turn amber - a sign of the dark side. For the first time Rochester realised just how much he meant to the other man.

"I will, but I can't. I'm sorry."

"When?"

"Soon."

"Fine. Whatever you say," Venom entered Broan's voice and he immediately regretted it. Rochester opened the door without looking at him and began to leave. He stepped forward, put one hand on the frame and tried to squeeze in between Rochester and the corridor. "Don't go."

"Don't do this where everyone can see."

"I don't care," Broan forced Rochester back into the room and kicked the door closed. "Don't you understand? I don't care what those people think of me. The slaves, the Lords, their opinions don't matter!"

"They do!"

"All that matters is you!"

"Don't put me before yourself. I'm not that important," Rochester tried to calm his breathing. He was getting frustrated, something that had not happened in a long time. "Focus on yourself, for now. You need to concentrate on your studies, become stronger, and learn what it is to be Sith. It's more than-"

"Stop bringing this back to me! Stop turning the conversation around. Stop avoiding my questions!" His anger getting the better of him, Broan charged forward. He grabbed Rochester by the shoulders and pushed him onto the bed. "Now tell me." Broan sat on the other man's thighs and pinned his arms to the bed. Rochester struggled briefly before relenting.

"You really want to know?"

"No, I've just been *********** around."

"Fine! Fine, I'll tell you, just get off me," Broan shook his head, but did ease his grip. Rochester made no bid to move. "Right," He sighed and gathered his thoughts. "I left the academy at seventeen - that's early - practically got kicked out. They don't appreciate the Sith way of doing things when it's actually applied. I think I shot too many people. I couldn't go back home after, so I kind of... well I left Imperial space for a while. I ended up on some dirty, scummy Hutt world and fell in with the wrong people. After a while I met Tala'mersu and I thought he liked me," Rochester shrugged. He was looking over Broan's shoulder, concentrating on the ceiling. It helped him to think. He did not want to see how Broan reacted to his past. "I think about it know and it seems more like he was looking for someone who's internal chemistry wasn't as messed up as a Tarisian rain cloud. He was a dealer, stims and things. I... I got very drunk. I went to clubs and danced for hours, only drinking and taking stims. I started to waste away but he still said I was beautiful," He paused again, having to take a deep breath before continuing. "One day - or night, it was hard to tell - Tala took me out to some big, wide open street. There were lights everywhere. It looked amazing. He said he had something for me try, something new. They were calling it 'Rebirth'. I should've said no."

Broan relaxed, putting more of his weight onto the bed. He stroked the side of Rochester's face and ruffled his hair. He was starting to calm down, his anger being replaced by incredible guilt.

"They were right, it was like being reborn. Everything felt sharp, looked clearer. I could see everything, feel everything so much better than before. Tala touched my arm and I could feel the little ridges of his fingers, the little differences in heat. It was like nothing I've ever experienced. Everything about that moment seared itself into my memory. And then... and then it all came crashing down."

"Stop."

"I think he was a Sith, someone's apprentice. He had two idiot lackeys with him and they saw us. They tore Tala away from me and threw him to ground and..." Rochester covered his face with his hands and started to breathe heavily. He was trembling and becoming pale. Broan lay down on the bed, putting his arms around Rochester. He rolled, pulling the shaking man into an embrace, reversing their positions. He stroked his back and waited. Rochester calmed but said nothing.

"I'm sorry," He tightened the embrace for second, and then relaxed, hoping it would provide some comfort. "Rochester, I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. I needed to talk to someone. I needed to talk to you about this," His voice was strained from tears. He kissed Broan on the cheek and sat up next to him, legs drawn to his chest. "I need to look into getting more medication, better than I had the last time; something that won't give me blinding headaches."

Broan put an arm around Rochester and pulled him into another hug.

"Anytime you need to talk, I'll be here. Always."

"Thank you."

Unnatural. Sick. Confused.

I'd heard things like that a thousand times. What was even worse, though, were the people who pretended to understand. You're so lucky! I bet it's so much easier being attracted to both men and women. You're probably never lonely.

All I was was lonely. Lonely and confused.

I collapsed on the steps of the engine room, the only place where I felt like I could cry without Kira knowing. I felt like such an idiot. How the hell hadn't I been able to figure out she wasn't interested in me - wasn't interested in women, period? So stupid, Kanaya! I scolded myself over and over again. She was just being friendly to me all this time, she wasn't trying to flirt!

Even if she'd let me down easy - and I respected her for that - being rejected still sucked. A lot.

"Kanaya = sad?"

I hurriedly wiped away my tears with the hem of my robe. T7 may just be a droid, but I didn't want him (her? it?) to know I was crying. "I'm okay," I managed to say.

"Kanaya = no reason to cry."

I sniffled. "Yeah, I do," I said. I was feeling sorry for myself, but I didn't care. I felt like my heart was totally broken. No amount of meditation or Force healing could make me feel better. "Kira doesn't like me," I admitted. Guess I really did want to talk about it.

"Kira + Kanaya = not friends?"

I shook my head. "Not like that. I mean that I..." I closed my eyes and tried to fight back the tears. "I love her. I was falling for her. But she's not interested in girls." Again, I felt like an idiot. Good going, Kanaya! You couldn't have found out it was hopeless before you developed this stupid crush?

"I'm so stupid!" I spat out, angry at myself. "I should have been more careful! I shouldn't have let myself get attached, I shouldn't have let myself have these feelings."

"Feelings = normal for organics."

I thought about my former master, and how she'd tried to force herself away from attachment. It had turned her into a cruel person who hated her own family. I had always sworn that when I went back to the Order, I wouldn't run away from emotions or attachment. I would just control them. I knew I was young, but I believed it was the right thing to do.

"Maybe you're right," I said, brushing away a tear. "But it hurts. I want her."

"Galaxy = many organics // Kanaya = good person + will find someone."

I smiled. Sometimes it was easy to forget that T7 was just a droid. "Thank you," I said. "You're a good friend."

"Kanaya = good friend too!"

I stood up and brushed off my robes. We were almost to Balmorra, and I felt a little better. T7 was right, I could find someone. The hurt would pass with time. I rubbed my eyes, and gave T7 a smile. "Thanks. You really helped." And I patted his head like a child.

I was confident that things would look better in the morning.

“Vector.”

Brei'yu called his name loudly, always feeling the need to announce herself before coming into sight of the Joiner in case he was communing with the hive or something. Stars knew she did not want to walk in on him when his brain was up to its eyeballs in bugs or naked Joiner girls, or whatever it was he was watching when his face was blank and he was mentally elsewhere. “Adris has gone off his rocker. Kindly put him back on for me.” She entered the cargo bay where Vector seemed to spend a lot of his time and paused at the threshold, one hip thrust out and her arms crossed in annoyance. If anyone could get Westan to start behaving like a human being, it would be Vector.

“We have no comprehension to your meaning, Agent,” Vector said smoothly, too smoothly. Brei'yu fixed him with an incredulous look.

“Don't call me Agent, Vector,” she said offhandedly. It was an old argument, one that began when she and Vector had been first introduced. It couldn't even really be called an argument since he would call her Agent, she'd fume and tell him not to and in the next breath he'd call her Agent again. Reminding him not to refer to her as an Imperial lackey was par for the course for all their conversations now. In fact, she was really rather tiring of it.

“Apologies,” he murmured as he did every time. “Agent Westan seemed to be in acceptable mental states when last we spoke.”

Brei'yu pointed an accusing finger at him, taking a few more steps into the cargo bay. “Don't you give me that bantha fodder, Hyllus. Adris is never in 'acceptable mental states' at any point when he's awake. Either he's talking to himself like he has an audience, or he's hatching grand machismo plans that make me look like frail female from every romance holovid ever. You're a very smart man, I know you see as much of a problem in this as I do.”

Vector cocked his head to the side and regarded her with an expression she couldn't read. She couldn't know that she had just thrilled something deep inside him when she referred to him as a man. Not a bug, or bugboy. Not even Joiner. She'd called him a man. Vector's feet drifted closer to her, as though being nearer would intensify this lovely feeling.

Brei'yu searched his face for some explanation, emotion, or surface thought she could connect with, then immediately felt guilty. Her ability didn't work like that. She would have to touch him, and he wouldn't know she would be Force searching his surface thoughts. Touching him wouldn't be bad, as weird as that thought was. But it was a violation that Vector didn't deserve.

“Westan has shared with us some of the finer details, you are correct. But even we have to admit, he has thought this out thoroughly. Perhaps you are the one who needs to see things clearly, Agent.”

Brei'yu cracked her knuckles in response. “Vector. Don't. Call me Agent. Really. And I fail to understand why you are even willing to go along with this. Adris has this hard-on for making me look like an imbecile when I have a gun in my hand because he still thinks of me as that girl from Alderaan. Like I can't handle having the Empire break...” she trailed off and shook her head. “Whatever. I'm not stupid, I'm not weak and just once I want to kick a little a*s in these plans.”

Vector had become very interested in Brei as she talked. Despite the familiarity between her and Agent Westan, the dropped hints about Alderaan and something that happened to the both of them there, no details were ever offered. And when she began to mention it, she always held herself back. If he had been another man, he would have been infuriated. “No one thinks you stupid or weak, Agent. I believe Agent Westan knows you could lay him out whenever you felt the urge.”

“Vector!” Brei'yu shot her hands up in the air in frustration. “Seriously and for the love of all things good and true...” She bit off anything nasty she was about to say and took a deep breath through her nose. Maybe it was time to just plow right through it. “Alright, Vector. Please, tell me honestly. WHY do you insist on calling me Agent, even when I remind you, EVERY time, not to?”

“Because,” he murmured, forcing her to draw closer to him to hear. “Every time you correct us, you use our name.”

Brei'yu paused. She searched his face for something though she wasn't sure what she wanted to see or if she'd recognize it if it were there. “Fine. If I begin every sentence I speak to you with your name, will you stop?” It was absurd to even ask, but if he liked to hear people say his name then dammit, she could loop it on repeat until her head fell off.

“No,” Vector answered. And he smiled at her.

It was a small smile, but even Brei'yu could see the amusement in it. She froze in wonder as she studied his face. This entire time, he had been using her as a personal joke. “This is funny to you,” she said, unable to keep the surprise out of her face or voice.

“Did you assume we lost our sense of humor when we became a Joiner?” That smile again. She had been wrong the first time. It was though he were looking at something he liked, or maybe something he enjoyed looking at.

Brei'yu suddenly found herself wondering why she had never noticed how handsome Vector was. The realization rocked her back a step. He made up for it with three of his own. The gears in her head were turning too fast for her keep up with. She wasn't sure she was even coming to any sort of correct conclusion. She did know, however, that she and Vector had never, up to this moment, been alone together. In fact, she found herself going out of her way to put Adris between them as a barrier. She knew it wasn't because she found Vector to be disturbing or repulsive. She just was a little touched in the head with the Imperial view that aliens were lesser. She didn't like it about herself, she actively fought against it where she could, but there it was. She kept Vector at arms length because he was other and that wasn't right. Embarrassment colored her cheeks. It was easy to hate on Kaliyo because the woman was a psychotic b*tch. Vector never wanted anything other than connection and conversation.

Who was the b*tch now?

Vector's smile fell away. “Have we upset you?” he asked, concerned.

“No, Vector,” she said. She felt the nearly overwhelming urge to apologize to him, but found herself not wanting to admit her atrocity out loud. She pressed her lips together, feeling frustration flow through her thoughts. What happened to the funny? He had just a moment ago been having his fun with her. Oh yeah, she ruined everything she touched. That's what happened. “I'll tell you this. Every time you refer to me as 'Agent,' I'm going to make a note. Then, when you least expect it, I'm going to have Kaliyo knock you out and I'm going to tattoo my name somewhere on your body. I'm thinking across your forehead, but I'm sure Kaliyo is going want to do it across your a*s. We'll have to flip a cred.”

He regarded her for a moment before a shadow of that smile returned. “Indeed. You seem fond of the idea of putting a tattoo on our body. Do you wish to mark us?” He sounded thoughtful but she could hear the playfulness thread through his words.

Oh. My. STARS. She cursed herself. One stray thought that Vector was handsome and suddenly, awkward.

Brei'yu summoned her best incredulous eye and planted her hands on her hips. “Why are you distracting me with this? This isn't why I came here.”

“Why did you come here?”

Brei'yu cursed silently again. She was off her damn stride. What the hell. “Westan. Westan is why I came here. Adris Westan and the ridiculous idea that's going to get you and me killed. Don't you have an ounce of self-preservation in you, Vector? Because his proposal is ludicrous.”

“You don't trust us then?”

Ouch. “Now you're putting words in my mouth. Quit grinning at me like that. I'm trying to keep us alive until at least next month.”

“We have no qualms as to Agent Westan's plans. We fully believe we are able to protect you.” He was so damn matter of fact.

“Are you kidding me? You're both insane. In. Sane. Did you hear me? Insane. I want to live to see my next birthday, thank you.”

“When is your next birthday?”

Brei'yu stared. “Nice try, Captain Subtle.” The title made him smile again and she felt herself answer it. She couldn't keep the laugh out of her voice even as she admonished him. “Don't change the subject.”

“We have covered many subjects with you in these last few minutes. Which one would you like to continue?” Vector tilted his head and gave her what she read as innocence.

Brei'yu narrowed her eyes. “Oh, Westan's taught you well. You hide behind that guile, Master Hyllus. Because you'll never find a better teacher.”

“We like it better when you call us Vector,” he said quietly.

She realized he had moved up to her and was standing just within her personal space. When had he gotten so close and why did she suddenly feel dizzy? Was the room warming up? She stood, frozen to the floor for a moment, her head buzzing, before she realized she should leave before she did something stupid that she couldn't take back and made a fool out of herself.

She took a careful step back, her blue eyes locked on Vector's dark ones. “If he gets me killed, I'm going to be very upset with you,” she said, trying for her patented nonchalance. He'd thrown her off balance, seriously, what the hell?

“We won't let that happen,” Vector said as he watched her escape to the door.

Brei'yu didn't answer, instead she backed out of the room and fled down the hall. She didn't see Westan approach the cargo bay. She didn't hear him address Vector with brotherly understanding.

“You're never going to get the girl if you keep letting her get away.”

Dawn rose, or would be rising if it weren't for the fact Crezelle had been escorted back to her ship after the killik party. The music, the dancing, the potent golden membrosia that got her drunk like no other spirits she had experienced. The rhythm of the nest still echoed in the back of her head, or was it the front of her head? It was hard to tell while she was this intoxicated. She had been gently reminded by Vector, her escort, that she needed to leave early before the pheromones took their hold on her.

She needed that evening. Not once did she think about the fact she had no control of her mind. Not once did she hear Watcher X taunt her. Not once did any of her mission agonies pass in her head that evening. She was in the best spirits she had been in years.

" We didn't actually thank you for allowing our pilgrimage, you should come with us next time ~" she heard him say as they entered the ship.

" Take a blanket and some rations, go sightseeing under the stars? You just want me alone. " She giggled. Then she realised how horrible she was at flirting. It wasn't her best strength during intelligence training. She wasn't even trying in earnest, it was just ingrained in her nature to be a little playful with most suitable males in her line.

"There is something else, it's been harder for us to read people since the joining... so we must be direct; is our relationship becoming.. unprofessional? "

She thought for a moment. It was odd for her to have to think about that, actually. Sure she flirted with him from time to time, but she did that with most males she came across. Or was he trying to feel the waters with her? He claimed he had troubles reading her, but his mannerisms made him just as hard to read, especially with tact as subtle as his. Why, of all the times does he make her have to think, does it have to be when she's drunk. "Ok girl, collect your thoughts she told herself. He's asking if there is something between them. Is there chemistry? She had enjoyed having some consistent male companionship in her work, and she learned to appreciate his gentle, holistic view of life and nature . It was refreshing to have someone who was polite, educated, professional, and aimed at serving the empire with as little bloodshed as possible. He sometimes surprised her with a little glimmer of humour that caught her off guard at times. His skin wasn't of a hue she found attractive, and his hair style was a bit odd to her as well, but she was not shallow, and he was still acceptable to the eye. And those eyes, why does everyone think they are creepy? She had issues looking people in the eye if they had humanoid eyes, she found THOSE creepy. His may not be red, but she didn't have to force herself to look at them when talking to him like she did with the others. And if anything else... That voice did have a way of soothing her no matter what he talked about.

It might have been the membrosia talking, but she figured it was worth a try. And if she made a bad decision, Kaliyo did offer to help her straighten out any ex boyfriends of hers!

" I get to decide what's professional, one advantage of being friendly with your superiors ~" she purred, and started closing in on him like a lioness pride on their chosen mark. She never noticed he smelled so good ether. That near sealed the deal with her. She couldn't remember the last time she got to share her body with someone for pure recreational purposes. There were always strings attached in her work. Use her body to coerce silence, to pry intel, to ensure co-operation. This will be different. This will be fun~

" Um... so tell us... how friendly are we..?" He was starting to look nervous. He had not been close enough to her all evening to scent the alcohol on her, and now that she was getting close to him, it became very apparent that she was still well under the influence. She had been trained to hide the effects well to mask any weaknesses it might present. He regretted bringing up the discussion now; it wasn't right in her current state of mind.

" Come to my quarters and find out." She growled softly. She grabbed him by the collar, pulled him in, and planted a poorly aimed, sloppy kiss that nearly missed his lips. He tried to back out of it, but she had an iron grip on his shirt. She was not expecting to be pushed away.

" You're drunk, Agent... We apologise... We didn't know... Let's try this conversation again when you have a clear mind."

" A clear mind...Heh...if only he knew " Her stomach turned as Watcher X made his entrance into her mind. " A clear mind.... a shame really, i would have liked to have seen you work your magic again with your body."

" MOTHER NERFER!!!!"

Vector was expecting some negative reaction to being declined. He did not expect to watch the agent roar with frustration and rage. She spun around and punched the wall with such force that the only reason she did not break her knuckles was to the ingenuity of the armoured gloves she wore everywhere. She trembled, shaking her head. The joiner was very confused and alarmed at her outburst. She had not presented herself as the volatile drunk on her nights out with Kaliyo. It had been a very long time since he had tried the courtship dance with someone outside the nest, maybe he said something terribly wrong? She seemed much too mature to take rejection this way.

He stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. " Agent, we didn't mean it like that, we ARE interested in you, we just don't want to do anything you would regret in the morning. You can't unsing a song..."

Crezelle froze, turned around, and gave vector a look of pure shock and sheepishness. She really made things look bad.

" Oh no, it's not you, something completely unrelated" She was blushing in embarrassment.

" Then what, Agent?"

" It's nothing... stresses of work. I'm fine!"

" Your song says otherwise."

" I...uh...." Welp...she can't explain herself out of this one. She looks around, and immediately skitters down the hallway to her room, where Vector could hear her trip and fall over something and cuss drunkenly.

" Agent.....?"

" I'm fine!!!"

sorry about redoing it. Ive had the idea in my head awhile, that whole her flipping out over being told they could maybe do things once she had a clear mind, and getting very upset at the irony. i also can see this being why vector doesn;t get serious with the agent until chapter 2 is over, and instead working on his other projects.

Corso picked up a crate and handed it to Bow, who placed it on the sled. He was daydreaming about being back on the ranch with Miriah, only a few days away now. He could hear her talking to Risha up in the hold, they were almost done offloading, then they could take the manifests to Courscant and be off for a week. He heard Mir laugh, which made him smile, but then the sounds around him changed into the unmistakable sound of blaster fire, along with the deeper boom of an assault cannon.

He ran up the ramp, shoving the wookie ahead of him, shouting for Miriah to start engines. She looked up at him with a frown, but when she saw his face she didn’t question, just ran to the bridge. In under thirty seconds the Stardancer was lifting off the deck, and Corso was shouting in the radio to the air traffic office about taking fire in their secure hangar. Only then did he feel the sting of a wound, two shots to the hip and leg, the pain being masked by the rush of adrenaline he’d ridden to get Miriah out of there and safe. When he glanced down, all he could see was blood. He looked over at her in shock and only got out, “I’m hit,” before he fell to the floor unconscious.

Miriah fumbled in her hurry to get out of her harness and get to her husband, bleeding on the floor of the bridge. She shouted for Guss on the intercom, who she could hear now running up the hallway. She applied pressure to the wounds with her hands until the medic arrived.

“Hang on, Captain, Bow’s coming to move him to medbay,” Guss told her, but she didn’t hear him. Instead, she pulled Corso against her, and stood, stumbling backward down the hall, pulling over two hundred pounds of unconscious human. The wookie, who’d been hit in the hand, was already in the medbay when Miriah pulled Corso through the door, and he leaped up to help her. As they put him on the treatment cot, he started to open his eyes. Miriah stood near his head, trying to even out her breathing, noting that he was reaching for her even though he was the injured one.

“Mir, you ok?” he shook out. She put her hand on his cheek, shushing him, and his eyes closed as the kolto infused his system. She stretched, arms and legs burning with the effort of getting him to treatment. Guss reported that the wounds were not deep but were long enough to bleed profusely. He’d stopped the bleeding but knew he’d have to put his patient in a tank, something he knew Corso dreaded. He looked at his captain, and before he could say the words, she was nodding.

“Yes, we’ll use the tank, but only from the waist down. The mask is the thing he hates.” She moved to the far wall and started to prepare the tank, filling it half full with healing kolto liquid. “How’s he doing over there?”

“Vitals are good, bleeding is slowed, still unconscious but I expected that, dosed him with pain med so he wouldn’t know about the tank.” Guss shook his head. “I thought we weren’t supposed to be in gunfights and stuff anymore. All he was doing was unloading supplies.”

“I know, and I intend to find out what went on down there. In the meantime, I’m notifying fleet that as of now we are out of rotation!” She was reining in her temper until she was sure Corso was taken care of, but when that was accomplished, all bets were off. “Risha, take us to Coruscant, please,” she called to the bridge.

“Aye, Captain, course laid in, hyperdrive engaged.”

Once they’d hit the hyperlane, she took what remained of the plate armor, and everything else, off her sedated husband and she and Guss lifted him into the kolto tank. She’d set a small bench in it, so that they could prop him up on the walls and the wounds still be immersed but not his face. He had oxygen going to him through a small tube, just as a precaution. As they were putting more kolto in the tank, he opened his eyes, a little at first, but then wide with horror.

“Corso, baby, look at me.” She gently turned his face to hers. “Just from the waist down, no immersion, I promise.” He tried to lift his arms to hold onto her but the sedation was heavy.

“I’m okay,” he mumbled, but his mind said, don’t leave me, please don’t leave me, please!

She held his head to her chest, stroking his hair and face, knowing he was in pain and afraid. She was standing in the sickly sweet smelling liquid but she didn’t care. She stripped off her boots and leather pants, leaving her in her leggings. Bow and Guss just stared as she shrugged out of her jacket, revealing her camisole. Akaavi strode in and gathered up Miriah’s clothing, asking if she needed anything, and glared at the other two as she left. Miriah figured a couple of hours in the tank would be enough, and by then she could stomp into the Republic’s logistics office and demand answers. Corso’s breathing had evened out and she could feel from the added weight he was out again.

She was trying to figure out exactly what happened when Risha cautiously entered the medbay and took small steps until she could talk to the captain. “He’s gonna be okay, right?” she looked at Miriah and saw tears leak out of the corners of her eyes as she nodded. Risha took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and pulled a chair up to the tank.

“Mir?”

“Mmm?”

“Want me to get you a warmer shirt?” Miriah shook her head.

“I’m fine, thanks though.”

They sat in silence, Risha working on her datapad, Miriah keeping her hands on her husband, the only way she could think of to let him know she was there. She heard the chime of the navcomp, telling them they were decelerating from hyperspace, and Risha got up to go to the bridge. As she turned to go, Miriah stopped her.

“Rish, thanks, for being here.”

“Just promise me you’ll let me be there when you tell Corso I saw him in his boxers.” She could hear Risha giggling as she left.

Guss came back in and helped Miriah get Corso out of the tank, but they agreed to let him just sleep off the pain med rather than injecting him with a stim. They walked the half-conscious man to the shower to wash off the kolto, and Bow came to carry him to their quarters. Miriah put his soft sleeping clothes on him, and tucked the blanket around him, leaving him to sleep with a gentle kiss.

888888

Corso could hear the heated tone of his wife’s voice as she berated someone over the holo, and it didn’t take much to figure out about what. They were on Alderaan, unloading medical supplies at a remote outpost, in what was supposed to be a secure hangar, when the shooting started. He took a deep breath and realized that he’d been cleaned and dressed, hoping that was all Mir’s doing. He wanted to get up and go to her, but was still groggy and didn’t want to undo the healing he’d already gotten. He’d just drifted back to sleep, holding her pillow to his chest, when he heard her tone change. He was used to the harsh, angry tone she’d been using, but this one, this one meant business. She must be beyond angry to use that one, he thought. It was not loud, but had enough steel under it to make a trooper turn. It was low in pitch, with the words practically spit at their target, delivered with the intent to make the other person know she was deadly serious, emphasis on “deadly”. All delivered from a woman who barely registered five feet tall, the effect was quite impressive.

“I don’t give a womp rat’s hairy *** what Garza thinks, I’m done. Simple as that. I’ll be there with the manifest in the morning.” He heard her kick the holo switch to disconnect the call, and winced. Her pacing steps echoed in the ensuing silence, the crew knew better than to say anything to her right now. Corso was usually the only one brave enough to try and calm her down. He shifted, testing out the healing so far to his wounds, and felt like they were doing well, so he eased himself to a sitting position. So far, so good, he thought, but standing was another matter. It took him some time to get out of the bed and out into the hallway, where he could see her sitting in the empty cargo hold floor, hugging her knees and resting her head on them. He took careful steps, trying to be quiet, and did well until he was standing behind her.

“Mir?”

She turned her face to him, dried tears of anger leaving traces on her face, her eyes weary and red. She forced a smile for him, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She put her arm around his waist, and helped him back to the lounge to sit. The entire ship was asleep, so she won’t yell at me, he thought. Once he was settled, she began pacing again, but not with as much agitation as earlier. He said nothing, just watched her, round after round. She stopped and looked at him.

“Corso, is it worth it? Is it worth being with me when crap like this happens and you get hurt?” She turned angrily and started pacing again. “I don’t know anymore. “ She continued, around the holo, until he reached out and grabbed her wrist as she passed him. She struggled at first, not wanting to let go of this anger just yet, but he just gently held her arm, waiting for her to sit. When she flopped down beside him, he shifted his hold to put his arm around her, still grasping her wrist.

“Anytime, anywhere I’m with you, it’s worth it. Helping the Republic beat back the Empire? Worth it. Running guns and supplies instead of fighting back rakghouls and cannibals? Worth it. Getting what can only be described as a flesh wound, and opening my eyes to see my lovely wife in her underthings holding me in the kolto tank? Oh, hell yeah, worth it!” He saw her lift her mouth in a small smile. “Sweetheart, look at me, anything is worth being with you.”

They sat there, her head on his shoulder, for a few minutes before she said quietly, “I get crazy when you’re hurt.”

“I know. I’m the same way when it happens to you.”

“I’m gonna yell at a general in the morning.”

He chuckled softly, “Yeah, I heard that part, darlin’. I’ve got your back. Always.”