The Mandalorians being attached to the Empire via their hate for the Jedi (and extension the Republic); the fact that large parts of the Great Hunt have you working in or around Imperial missions and using Imperial territories and resources and generally associating with people who may or may not be like the mentioned officer.

I don't want to go AU with this, so Kouhun is going to have to find some way to work with the Empire.

Malavai had convinced him to use the giant tub in the master refresher for a bit of relaxation. He considered turning on the jets when he got in, but he didn’t want to irritate his skin. Then again, maybe it would feel like the rushing rivers of the jungle, a little warmer, perhaps, but maybe. He dipped the tips of his fingers into the water and watched the tiny ripples distort his reflection. For a moment, a very brief moment, his face was as smooth as a human’s. His cheekbone ridges smoothed, the bone spurs jutting from his chin blended into the background, even the bone spurs along his jaw disappeared. A normal human for the briefest of moments.

Of course, the sheer amount of orange and copper in his skin tone was a giveaway that he was not a normal human. He had Sith blood. Sith blood he inherited from a pair of normal looking humans. He wanted to be normal after they left him in the jungle. He had never thought of it before, never considered himself strange. No, the pale beings that claimed he was their child, they were the strange ones. They had no powers and they were scared of him. What parent is scared of their child? Not his parents. There was no way these creatures were his parents. But, while he was with them, he loved them as if they were his parents. And they were. Until they got rid of him, dumped him in the jungle like an unwanted pet. No parent would do that to their child. Their normal child.

He turned off the water and stripped to his bare bottom. He raised his leg and dipped a toe into the water. It was hot. Very, very hot. Best to hurry in. Which, of course, was a terrible mistake. He shouted and stood quickly, a rush of water following his swift movement. The shout and resulting splash had a predictable result: Malavai knocked on the door.

“The water was hot,” Ald said to the door.

There was a quiet noise on the other side which sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.

“It’s not funny,” Ald grumped. Slowly, he eased himself back into the water.

“I wasn’t laughing,” Malavai replied, his voice light and still suspiciously filled with laughter.

“I can tell when you find something humorous and when you chuckle it’s hilarious.”

There was that noise again. Definitely a chuckle.

“You jerk,” Ald grumbled.

“I’ll assume you insulted me.”

“I did. You’re a jerk,” Ald said louder.

And now he was laughing. The sound delighted Ald’s ears. It was a very rare thing for Malavai to chuckle let alone laugh. Recently, at least. When they were in private, he was much more willing to open up after a few pokes and prods and outright requests of “Stop being such a stiff bastard.” He always found that request humorous and would laugh to indulge his Lord.

“Stop laughing and come in.”

“I’m not washing your back,” Malavai quipped as he entered the refresher. He immediately went to the closet and grabbed a few towels to clean up the mess Ald had made.

“You’re like a maid.”

Malavai dropped the towels to the floor and used his foot to move them around.

“I am a servant of the Empire.”

“Har har.”

The corners of Malavai mouth ticked up. “It’s true. I am duty-bound to serve in any capacity, which includes cleaning up after an overly ambitious Wrath when he burns his bum on hot water in the bath.”

“You’re a jerk.”

Malavai’s laughter echoed softly in the refresher. Ald turned on the jets in an attempt to drown out the laughter. Naturally, the laughter increased in volume.

“Such a jerk,” Ald mumbled as he slipped into the water up to his mouth.

He wasn’t expecting a response from Malavai and he definitely wasn’t expected a splash of water to the face. But there it was, the end result leaving his face dripping and his brain trying to figure out what happened. To his credit, Malavai sat rather calmly on the edge of the large tub, but his smirk gave him away as did the rolled up sleeve of his tunic and his hand in the water.

Ald glared, and, for a brief moment, Malavai thought he had made a terrible error. Then he found himself under water being pummeled by very strong jets of water.

A very grumpy and very wet Malavai surfaced and stared at Ald. “The water is rather hot,” he said blandly.

“You look ridiculous!” Ald giggled. He brushed a lock of wet hair from Malavai’s face. “Next time you want a bath, just ask.” He paused. “And take off your clothes before jumping in.”

Malavai reared back on his haunches and removed his wet tunic. Then he splashed Ald with all his might.

“You’re dead!” Ald laughed.

The water was nothing like the water in the jungle. It was warm, hot even, and relaxing. But those waters in the jungle brought him here, to this point, one way or another. And he wouldn’t give that up for the Galaxy.

This started out a short about Ald thinking on his time in the jungles. It devolved into Quinn participating in a splash fight.

I don't even know, man.

Ald was half-awake when he made the first mistake of the day. It was a damn good thing he was the Force sensitive one, though the sheer force of the glare he was on the other end of… well, it shriveled parts of him worse than Hoth.

“That thing is no longer part of our lives,” Vette hissed quietly.

“Malavai-” Ald started.

“Captain Bastard,” Vette spat angrily, “is not to be spoken of in our bedroom.”

“Our be – Vette, if anything, these are my quarters.”

“We’re married now, Ald,” Vette said sweetly.

“That doesn’t mean my things are suddenly yours.”

Vette fluttered her eyelashes. “You sure didn’t think that last night. And what a wonderful night it was.”

Ald didn’t need the reminder. Not anymore anyway. He should have known the weight on his chest was off. He had confused the tiny Twi’lek’s upper half for a hastily thrown arm. Was he really that far gone? The short answer was yes. This was a quick fix that came at a terrible cost, but he needed her. He needed the balance she brought with her. She was available and she made that much known nearly the second the man had disembarked. He had waited, avoided her advances, and dodged her presence until he couldn’t deny that he needed something to ground him. And she was convenient. It was wrong of course. It was terrible. It was a disaster in the making. But stars above did it feel good. He felt normal. He felt more normal than he had in weeks.

“-and a ring would be rather nice, don’t you think?” Vette asked. Apparently she had been talking for some time.

“Sounds proper,” Ald said quietly. Sounds like something Malavai would say.

“Ugh, you sound like that creature. You’re not still thinking about him, are you? Not when we’re together, right?”

“No, love,” he lied. It must have been convincing, because she blushed straight to sapphire.

“You’re such a sweetie,” she said with a smile. “I think a nice, relaxing bath is in order.” She grinned. “I’m a bit sore from last night.”

Ald very nearly jumped from the bed. “I’ll get on the HoloNet and look up jewelers.”

Vette squealed as she made her way to the refresher. “Will you tell me what you’re ordering?”

“Let’s leave it a surprise.”

“I can’t wait!”

He could. And he really should have. Fool.

This didn't turn out quite how I had hoped. There should have been more awkward and despair instead of... whatever the heck just happened.

It might end up re-written in the main thread. We'll see what happens, I suppose.

Miriah lay in the swing on their porch, watching the heavy rain fall on the Dantooine property. She could hear the crew laughing at a holovid, and that made her smile. Tired, she thought, so tired. She thought back over the past few days, which made her think of her sister. They’d taken fire and Corso had been injured by her own sister’s Havoc squad, which had caused quite a confrontation in General Garza’s office. Miriah shifted, remembering the look of sorrow on Maura’s face when she’d realized the true nature of what had gone on the day before.

If she knew what I know now, she’d really be upset, Miriah thought as she gently slid her hand down her stomach and over the child she now knew for sure was growing there. Just the thought of a child made her think of her sisters, of Tython, and of her distant mother. I won’t be her, she assured herself. I will be with him, every day. I will make sure he knows how much he is loved, how much we both wanted him.

She put her socked foot out from under the soft throw she’d covered herself with, and started the swing’s motion. The gentle to and fro rocked her, settling her thoughts, and she dozed. Soon a memory long buried surfaced in her dream, of her childhood, playing in the green fields of her home planet, giggling with Maura. They’d gone to see their mother in the temple, and had been scolded and sent home again when she’d seen them approach. Maura told her then that they always had each other, would always have each other. Magdalane had caught up with them on the path, and the sisters had talked and laughed all the way to their house, and Mags had stayed overnight with them. She realized then just as now that as long as she had her sisters, the lack of her mother’s love was somehow not as missed. I learned what I know of being a mother from them, she thought, and the faint anxiety she’d been pushing to the back of her mind lessened.

When Corso found her in the swing, and sat with her, she turned her shining eyes to his, her fears gone and her heart ready to change his world forever.

The story is longer that I wished it to be. It is set some time after the end of the Inquisitor storyline

Ashara quietly entered the main lobby; Xania was sitting on one of the couches, reading a datapad and did not react to her presence.

“Master?” she enquired

“Ashara…” came the reply. Xania did not lift her eyes for a few moments, still focused on the screen. Then, with a quick motion, she switched off the device and met her apprentice’s gaze but remained silent, waiting for her to explain herself.

“I have…questions?”

“And I may have answers…although it all depends on the type of questions you are going to ask”. Xania smiled remembering how not too long ago she had been in the same situation, with herself taking the role of the curious apprentice. Ashara had been a good apprentice thus far, even though she did not wish to become a Sith, and she had a tendency to question theories and her teachers which Xania thought was a good approach to learning.

“I do not understand why you dismiss the Jedi so easily.” Ashara continued “You seem to underestimate them, master”

“I do not. Nor do I underestimate the Sith. But that does not mean I cannot criticize them” Xania waited, for a change in tone or expression that would betray what her apprentice was thinking.

“Why? Are you criticizing their knowledge of the Force?”

“Knowledge is such a big word, Ashara. No Jedi or Sith can expect to fully comprehend the Force.”

Ashara looked confused, unsure on how to question the Sith in front of her. She had seen the unbridled power of the dark side erupt many times before as her master dealt with her enemies but she also had seen a different side to Xania, a subtler layer which was in hard contrast with her fury. A side which she defined as devoted to the search for wisdom and it was that same layer that was creating confusion in Ashara’s mind.

“You have killed without second thoughts as I would have expected from a Sith. Yet, you seem to act as a Jedi at times too…but you are a Sith…”

“Everything is so black and white for you, isn’t it?” Xania replied, a thin smile crossing her lips “The Jedi are good and the Sith are evil. Is that it? And since you seem to believe I am both, you do not know on which side I stand.”

“You are a Sith and yet…you are different”

“Tell me, is the Force good or evil?”

Ashara frowned “The Force just is and defining it as good or evil would be wrong”

“Indeed” Xania slowly stood, stretching her back. “So why are you defining the Jedi as good and the Sith as evil?” she asked as she began to slowly and almost silently moving in a circle around her apprentice. “What is good? What is evil?”

Ashara felt like prey as her master circled around her like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Uncomfortable did not even begin to describe how she felt.

“I would presume that it is defined by someone's actions”

“Keep going...”

“But isn't that also defined in what you learn, master? If you learn to use the Force for good, you will also act in such a way that will mirror what you have learned.”

“Tell me, Ashara, how do you decide if the Force is used for good?” Xania was no longer looking at her and was, instead, staring straight ahead.

“If you help people and use it to preserve life”

“So you are saying that the destructive power of the Force is only used for...evil?”

“Isn't that the case, master?” Ashara was being careful as she spoke, unsure on where her master was leading her and yet, she still fell uneasy. She wondered as to why every time she questioned her, it felt like a duel.

“You have seen many times how destructive the Force can be, Ashara, but what if that same destructive power was used to save lives?” Xania replied, turning her head slightly, giving her a half-glance “How would you define that act?”

“The act of saving lives would be a good act but there would be different ways to go on about it.” Ashara was absolutely convinced of that, she would not condone unleashing destruction, she would find a way to save lives without having to resort to what she considered to be Sith methods. “One could shield whoever might be in need, eventually protecting them from danger, as an example.”

“What if you were trying to protect a ship from enemy fire? Would you protect it indefinately?

“If I was powerful enough, I would” Ashara decided to stand her ground, no matter what her master might say.

“And if you weren't, what would happen? Die a noble death, together with the innocents that might be on that same ship? I am sure that would be of great comfort to the families of the deceased to know that a jedi died while trying to save their loved ones. Too bad that everyone died, instead of just the jedi.” Xania was now facing Ashara, a glint in her eye

“And what would you do, master?” came the reply with a slightly acid tone

“I would decide according to the situation and the options available to me at that moment.”

“You are avoiding the question...”

“Am I? Are you always so sure that what you have in mind will go according to plan, every time?” Xania, paused “Well, you certainly are pretentious...”

Ashara felt cheated and annoyed. “I am not...”

“What I am trying to show you, Ashara, is that you cannot simply see in black and white, good or evil. There are many shades in between. If a jedi uses the Force to electrify a group of bounty hunters so that he may save a group of civilians, does that make him evil? Or if a sith uses the Force to shield that same group to keep them alive, does that make him good?”

Ashara parted her lips as if to say something but no words came out, her mind still working on keeping order among her swirling thoughts.

“As with all jedi, you have been taught to control your emotions. I believe you know 'there is no emotion, there is peace'?

“Of course I know the jedi code. Did you even need to ask?” Ashara replied with a certain bitterness

“As I expected” Xania replied, that same predatory expression appearing on her features “Do you realise, now, why you were once told that you are not a jedi?”

There was no reply but Xania understood that her apprentice knew the answer to the question perfectly.

“You still cannot control your emotions. That much is evident. But it is not something you should be ashamed of”

“I will not become a sith” Ashara protested

“I am not asking you to become a sith. I am merely showing you that there is more to it that just jedi or sith.” Xania resumed pacing around her and, for a few moments, the only sound that could be heard was the low humming and occasinal beeping of the computer consoles.

“I am sure that your former jedi masters told you that emotions are the path to the dark side, which can be true, especially if you look at the current state of the sith. Merely a bunch of spoiled children who throw a tantrum whenever they want something”

Ashara was surprised to hear a sith talk so openly of other sith, especially in such a derisive manner. To her, the sith in front of her was a mistery.

“But ask yourself if denying your emotions is the path to the light side. What happens if you become so good at it that, eventually, you negate your emotions to the point of being unable to feel anything at all? Wouldn't that make you a machine? Someone who cannot empathise. Wouldn't that make you callous?”

Callous. Surely there is a way to follow the light side without becoming impervious to others.

“If you are callous, would you still be able to be a person? Or would you simply follow your teachings and code so as to appear cold and detached?

Xania saw that doubt was beginning to settle as her apprentice, usually always ready to fight back, remained silent instead.

“Not to mention that the jedi are afraid. Afraid of emotions, considering them the cause of their downfall. How can you pretend to control your emotions if the only reason for doing that is fear? Fear of being angry. Fear of being in love, fearing that it might lead you to the dark side.”

No. The jedi are not afraid. Are they?

“Jedi teach about control yet they fear. Isn't it a contradiction? You constantly try to control that which defines you as alive. In the end, Ashara, ask yourself if you want to be a person or a machine.”

“You say that jedi might become machines yet, you are filled with hatred. What does that make you?”

Good. She is fighting back

“I might be hateful, but at least I have experienced it's opposite. Have you, Ashara? Or are you too afraid to love?”

“I...” Ashara did not have the words to formulate a cohesive reply so, she stood motionless, waiting for her master to strike again.

“On one side you have a monster, filled with hatred and anger. On the other, you have a machine, cold and calculating. It will be up to you to strike a balance between the two and for that, you are the only one who can decide where the point of balance resides.”

“Different shades...”

“Precisely”

Xania turned away and silently exited the room, leaving her young apprentice alone with her thoughts. And, for Ashara, such conversation had left her with much to ponder.

"Captain. Can we talk?"

I'd just gotten dressed for the day, Corso was in my doorway, and I had a bad feeling about this.

The previous day had gone really well as far as I was concerned. Had some adventures, got some gratitude and some cash out of some Alderaanian nobles, ran through a near-death experience, finally got the farmboy worked up to do something about that tension that's been building since forever. The woods in the mountains in the middle of nowhere; not my usual scene, so doubly fun. Took him long enough to get there, given he'd been guiltily checking me out since day one.

We'd gotten back to the ship with awkward short conversational scraps, and then I'd slept, and now here he was.

"Yeah, sure," I said, vague dread notwithstanding. How bad could it be?

"This, uh. I never…we got this backwards, Captain. What does...what happened...what's it mean for us?"

Oh. Meaning. Cue to leave town? Yeah, only he lived on my ship. I blew some hair out of my face. "It doesn't have to mean all that much. We like each other, we were in the mood. It was good. Why question it?"

"Because it matters. We were...that was...you deserve better than a one-night stand. That wasn't a one-night stand. Was it?"

I smirked. "Doesn't have to be."

He blushed, hard. "That’s–that's not what I...." He hid his face in his hands for a moment, took a deep breath. "Can you take this seriously? Just for a minute?"

"Of course I take you seriously."

"I'm not sure you do!" Whoa, anger. "This changes everything, Nic, don't you see that?"

"Why should it? You're here, you're hot, you're sweet. I'm not looking for a wedding chapel."

"So that's it." His voice practically cracked. "This was a fling, and now we're...totally normal again."

"Yeah."

"I don't accept that."

Dammit, kid. "So, what, you're gonna start dictating terms? I owe you now?" The one thing I truly hated about him, his idea of taking charge. Why did he have to break it out now? "We're not talking about this. It was great." Surprisingly so. "Don't ruin it."

"Stop!" When I tried to walk out he stepped to block my path, glaring down at me with all the righteousness only he could wield like that.

Again, he made no sense. "What do you want?" I demanded.

"I want to be with you. I want something real, not just – not just one of your flings. I want something better for you. For us."

Aaand raving again. I was clearly supposed to see something positive about this whole big idea of his, but I didn't. "I don't know what you're talking about." Enough. I pushed at him, and when he didn't budge I squeezed around him to head to the bridge. It was time to be somewhere else.

Dammit, why could he never just let a good thing be?

There's this entire troubled arc in my head that I never really tried expressing. Anyway, here's a milestone in it.

I'm never sure whether I make Corso too easily seduceable. I think he could be convinced even by someone who isn't conforming to his mental script. Then he would freak out.

“It’s cozy,” Mako said, laughing as she stepped into their new “home.”

Stolen property. Ajacksa sighed as her one and only crew member went to explore. Seemed the further she went into this underbelly the worse it got and the tighter she got sucked in. She grimaced, practically feeling the filth of crime on her skin. Maybe it was just the ship. It didn’t look all that clean, or bright, or homey. It was hers though. It would keep her moving, flying, free. That was enough.

She looked up at the man mounted on the wall in carbonite. Talk about creepy. They say a person doesn’t recall anything when they’re in hibernation, but still. That was a living person up there. She wondered who he was, thought about unthawing him. She should unthaw him.

“Hey, you coming? The Hunt’s waiting, and the port officials are starting to look suspicious,” Mako called down from the upper deck.

She looked up at the macabre decoration again. He could be dangerous, wanted, powerful, or just a poor slob who got in the way of the last guy who owned this ship. She sighed, her face set grim. A complication at any rate.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to him, “but I’ve got too much on my plate right now.” She hoped they were right about recall.

The grime in the corners of the stair treads caught her eye as she climbed them. What was she becoming?

T7

Time = 600 galactic

Mission = Complete

Jedi = Hero of the galaxy

T7-01 = Ready for next mission

Doc

Look at that, we are alive, and heroes. Well, some of us were already heroes. Only problem with this picture is I'm alone. No problem, ole Doc can fix that as soon as we get back to civilization. This is going to make a great story for the grandkids or a pretty girl.

Yeah, I'll go with that second one first.

Rusk

Mission complete. Targets eliminated one hundred percent. Squad status, zero percent fatalities, zero percent casualties.

So that's what that feels like.

Kira

He's dead, finally. I did my part, we're all alive. We can offload that Sith jerk at someplace horrible as soon as we get a chance. Now, maybe we can finally start living a little.

Who am I kidding, Jedi don't get to have lives.

Scourge

He is dead and my vision was true. The battle for dominance will continue but the Force will remain intact. Now I will have a chance to observe how the Republic treats their allies once they are no longer necessary. I wonder if the Jedi will speak for me, or will she bow to her Council's wishes. Doubtful, her will is too strong, her sense of honor would not allow it, and it will strain her relationship with the Jedi.

This will be amusing.

Remi

Is he dead? Scourge sensed him fading, did he sense his death too? I wonder if the Council understands how much we all owe him. The Emperor wanted to end everything. He was crazy, yet he acted like nothing that happened surprised him. In his final moments when I struck him down… he laughed.

This isn't over.

Not really certain how they tell time in Star Wars so I made that T7 line up.

The curved alusteel wall was the only thing that shone in the Hutta transport. Ajacksa self-consciously dropped her hand away from her newly shorn, newly copper-colored hair, her newly green eyes shifting away from the distorted image of herself in the metal. The Rattataki across the aisle in the battered transport grinned a little wider, his eyes tracing over her generous curves. He was slouched across the opposite bench, one arm casually draped across a bundle, the other resting on one of his splayed legs within easy reach of the tied-down blaster he had strapped to his thigh.

She shifted on her seat, her stomach in knots as they dropped down through the atmosphere. The battered armor she'd scavenged from the repair pile in the guards' room in her family's apartments didn't fit right. She pulled at the gauntlets nervously, yanking them down to cover the bare skin on her arms. She needed bracers. She looked over at the Rattataki. His armor fit him - matched the gunmetal gray tattoos that striped his face. You could tell it was a set, probably made to fit his wide shoulders and narrow hips specifically. She looked at the helmet that was sitting next to his hip. She needed to get one of those. She glanced up at her wavery reflection in the metal - needed to cover up those freckles. Her face shifted in the reflection, shadows forming under her eyes, on her cheeks, giving her a dark cast. She looked away again, her eyes catching in the Rattataki's silver ones.

"First time on Hutta?" he asked, sitting forward on his seat. His voice was a low raspy growl, his eyes glittery. She'd never seen a Rattataki in person before running into a couple on the Hutta orbital station. Her tutors had included them, of course, in her lessons on the sentient species of the galaxy. Violent with monochromatic coloring. That was the only thing she remembered. Her tutors would not have mentioned the air of menace that lay about them like a shroud. She couldn't shake the thought that she'd been safer as a terrified debutante running heedlessly from her stepfather's assassins.

She raised her chin, praying her voice didn't shake. "I don't share my business," she said shortly.

Cool, calm. Remember, Jack, appearance is everything. She grimaced as her mother's words bounced into her head. Different context, same weapon. Appearance had gotten her to this point. Old bounty hunter had spotted her facing down a pack of her stepfather's mercenaries, had mistaken her scavenged armor, taunts, and instinctive aim as that of a professional. An opportunity. On Hutta. All she had to do was keep pretending. Become a bounty hunter. Last place in the galaxy they'd ever look.

"You take money for your business?" the Rattataki asked in that raspy voice, openly eyeing her body, "How much?"

How much? He didn't mean...she felt her cheeks flush. Compensate. Give him a show. She was fairly sure that when her mother had insisted she take acting classes, it had been to strengthen the family's ties with the Coruscant art snobs, not to prepare her to face down violent criminals, but she was absolutely sure she'd never had to be more convincing. Her heart was pounding in her ears.

She sighed loudly and pulled the blaster on her hip. Jack pursed her lips, hiding her racing pulse. "If business involves this gun in my hand, then yes."

He grinned and leaned back against the metal wall; his unblinking silver eyes were unnerving. "I got no problem with that.

He had no problem with...oh she was so out of her depth it wasn't even funny. What was she doing here? Think quick. She rolled her eyes and put the blaster away, turning to adjust something that didn't need adjusting on her pack. Ignore him. He doesn't exist. The harsh chuckle across the aisle was not reassuring.

Jack silently thanked the stars as she felt the transport land. She continued ignoring the Rattataki till he'd picked up his pack and headed down the ramp. Her heart was pounding as she gathered up her few belongings and headed for the door where yellowed light and dank air poured in.

Hutta stank. It stank like rotting things, chemicals, and blaster fire. The cybernetics hidden in her jawbone chimed in her ear, reading off a list of minor poisons in the atmosphere. None immediately lethal, most deadly, given enough time. Somehow, she suspected pollution was rarely the main cause of death around here though. She paused in the doorway, catching sight of the tall Rattataki as he strode through the nearly empty hanger. He belonged here, whereas she...

Jack blinked back a couple tears that were stinging her nose and glanced back into the transport. Her reflection in the curved metal looked back at her: scared, desperate, and out of her element. She swallowed, hefted her pack on her shoulder, and left the transport, staring down the couple space port workers who glanced at her. She had a part to play, her survival depended on it.

Interesting piece of trivia: if you make a bt4 female cyborg some of the cybernetics don't work on some of the faces leaving you with a cyborg who looks outwardly human.

I have very strong feelings about Corso, but in the end he is, like most good characters, an internally consistent guy with a more or less rational worldview and thoughts and feelings and reasons for what he does. (Alas, he is not, like most good characters, demonstrated to be capable of change or learning.) It just became clear over time that he didn't mesh with my concept of Nic. At all.

It doesn't help that she isn't giving him much of an even break here: her "let's bang and not talk about it" is as unreasonable a unilateral demand as "please step onto my pedestal and behave nicely."

The difference comes in the failure mode: if Nic's prospective partner says "no", she walks away, they go about their lives. By all available characterization, if Corso's prospective partner says "no" he'll follow her around informing her of his love and infinite patience until she succeeds in escaping in the dark of night or outright shooting him.

Nic doesn't know that yet (and boy, I never intend to write him as psychotic as game-Corso can be). She's having fun. But he's being confusing and difficult with protestations of genteel intent that she definitely never had and why does he have to make a big deal out of a little fun? Meanwhile he has no idea what to do with her failure to fit the diamond-in-the-rough notion he invented for her. Or even pay the slightest attention to her own wellbeing, does she even think about how badly hurt she's going to end up if she keeps acting like she doesn't care about anything?

Different value systems. I don't like his a whole lot, but it doesn't hit "evil" in my books (nor even get close) 'til he starts rampaging past clear "no"s like he does in game.

It was just about dawn when I reached the prison downtown in a minor Naboo city. I exchanged a credstick's worth of duly apportioned bail for a datacard that was full of the relevant legal information for the charges against the guy who had called me last night to bail him out.

The warden led me down a row of holding cells to one where Kirsk was lying on his back, arms crossed behind his head, whistling tunelessly to himself.

He scrambled to his feet when he saw us. "Big brother! You made it!"

"Of course I did," I said, and watched while the warden let down the energy field. Kirsk strutted out, carefully smoothing his hair back, and he and I headed for the door and out into the sunlit street.

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. "Kirsk...indecent contact with a minor?"

"It was entirely decent. We got a room and everything."

"A minor?"

"Did you know the age of consent in this principality is twenty-one? Twenty-one!"

"I didn't ever want to learn that, Kirsk."

"It's barbaric, is what it is." The cybernetics around my brother's eye looked downright uncomfortable when he kept his eyebrows that high. "And what about her, huh? I'm underage too by that standard! She's not the only victim here."

"Yeah, well maybe nobody thinks a young lady would drag you all unwilling off to be..." I struggled for the right word and gave up..."ravished."

"I'm completely ravish-able," he said indignantly. "As Miss Wirissa could attest."

"You'd better hope so. She says the word, I will dump you right back where I found you."

"She's fine. I promise. Seriously, this is all paperwork and her parents being overly excitable. Now when's the next shuttle off planet?"

I waved the datacard I'd gotten at the police station. "You won't be on it. There's still this to sort out."

"I thought we just established that these accusations are wildly unjust and I've got better places to be?"

"'Better' enough to skip a court date over criminal charges? Kirsk, if we can straighten this out just by talking, that's one more planet you're still allowed to land on under your own name. May as well clear it up here and now."

Kirsk slouched. "Hmph. Why do I waste my holocalls on you again?"

"Because I'm the only person you know who'll post bail before asking questions." I pocketed the card. "Now where would we go to get breakfast around here?"

I imagine that they actually spoke to Miss Wirissa and her outraged parents and, once Vierce was satisfied that the (nineteen-year-old) girl was both unhurt and on their side in the desire to make the overblown nonsense go away, he played Kirsk off as a somewhat simple-minded youth (to Kirsk's considerable surprise) who might very well be argued to have been victimized by the young lady. So maybe charges should be dropped because between this poor guy who needs cybernetics for, uh, any kind of brain stuff, and your own brilliant daughter (please do try not to snicker, miss), only one of 'em is going to be found competent to stand trial.

As for the age of consent, Naboo will actually overreact so strongly to this broad definition of "minor" that in three thousand years' time it'll accept a fourteen-year-old as an elected head of state.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.