I rescued Fuse on Tatooine but I left Jaxo to die. I think a big part of it was in my head canon Ipha and Fuse had a hot and heavy fling on Ord Mantell before the old Havoc defected. His defection hurt her to the core but Jorgan was starting to heal that. And I just couldn't kill Fuse. I hoped that somehow I'd get him back on board the squad. Alas.

Jaxo on the other hand... I knew I had to kill her. I knew what would happen to her after A-77 if I let her live and even though she was a video game character I just felt that death was a kinder fate than what would happen. I sat at my computer literally for 15 minutes with the choice up on screen questioning myself. I haven't found a moment like that in any other story yet.

One of the other moments in this game is when I had to choose to let Watcher X escape. Kaliyp just made me want to throw my computer when I decided to help Watcher X. Infact I redid that choice because of that....

Wynston. It wasn't a Chiss name, that was for sure. It had been a token of hope, unrealistic hope, from parents who already imagined being out of the Ascendancy, away from the poverty that was their birthright. Avoid the old family name, lop off the occupation name; he tried, when he could. It was better to be just Wynston.

They had saved up for years, since before Wynston's birth, to get him and his surviving brothers off the colony world of Rentor. Their masters did technically pay them. Overseers, technically, and Wynston's family were technically employees; but the family was paid in the bare basics of subsistence, and cash was rare, given only as bonuses for extraordinary performance. His parents had saved those bonuses, invested them. And then one accident in the mines wiped it out. If the failing equipment had killed Wynston's eldest brother outright, it would've been cleaner. They wouldn't have had to pay for the doctors. Maybe the survivors would've gotten off Rentor after all.

But his brother had held on for a few weeks before dying, and when he was gone, so were the last of his parents' savings. Wynston wouldn't be leaving the aphosite mines he had helped to carve miles deep in the vast black icebergs of his homeworld.

He was on break in the semiheated warren of the midchambers. In the deepest parts of the mines, the cold would kill you even while you were moving. Here in the break rooms it would only kill you if you stood still.

He recognized one of the dirt-smudged bundles of clothing coming in. "Hey! Nyss!"

Renn'yssla'kleoni unhooked her face cover and ran up to kiss Wynston. "Fancy meeting you here," she joked.

"I tried the next mine over, but they wouldn't have me. Guess you're stuck with me." He gently pushed one of her hands aside so he could access a pocket. "Got you something."

She unrolled the cloth he had produced; it turned out to be two shaped inner gloves, fitted for a feminine hand, inlaid with a delicate mesh of wires.

"Microheaters," he explained, perhaps unnecessarily. "There's a very small charge pump folded into the cuff here, squeeze it a few times if you're running low on juice. Should keep you warm all day and all night, too. You know, when I can't be there."

Nyss alternated looking at Wynston and looking at the gloves while she beamed. "Wynston, how did you even...this is great! You couldn't afford this on six months' salary!" Her face took on a paler shade of ice. "You didn't..."

"No, no, you know I'm smarter than that. I made 'em. Don't tell anyone, but I'm pretty good with my hands."

"This would be consistent with previous observations," she said archly.

"I'm glad you get some benefit from my skills." They were of a height, so he had to push up on his toes to kiss her forehead. "Now, you let me know if the bosses give you or your sisters any trouble about your quotas again today. I always have an hour or two in the evening to lend a hand."

"That's just not true, honey."

"You or your people need me, I'll make it happen. I always do."

She finished tucking the lining into her gloves. Instead of putting them back on, though, she reached up to touch his cheek. "You could stick with us after, you know. With me."

She wasn't just talking about the evening visits they already had a couple of times a week, when he wasn't working or visiting some other woman. "You know I can't stay, sweetheart."

"A girl can dream. Someday the right girl's gonna catch up to you, and you'll figure out that settling down isn't all bad."

"I'd just as soon not rush that."

"Yeah." There was disappointment in her tone, but she smiled, too, when she nodded. "Yeah, let's not."

Wynston's holo chirped. "Break's over," he said. "Keep warm, sweet."

"You, too." She planted one last kiss on his cheek; he was already moving. When the job needed doing, affection would have to wait.

He covered his face and crowded with the other laborers onto the lift that would take them back down into the deadly chill of the deepest aphosite dig. He had another minute and twenty-two seconds to himself before the lift hit the bottom and work started up again.

For the thousandth time he thought about what he would do if he were out of here. He could go to the Republic. They had warm worlds, strange ways. He wasn't really sure what people did in the Republic, apart from all the Senators in fine clothes he had seen on news vids. They must live in comfort.

Or he could try the Empire. It was organized there. He could go into the military. Ensign Wynston. No, but they would want his family name. He would lose Wynston and be the other, the part that kept dragging him down here.

He could go into Imperial Intelligence. He was small and agile and light on his feet, the sort of thing sneaky people needed to be. He had heard stories about Intelligence. They had ghosts that could go anywhere, hear and find and kill anything. They had designations that left their names behind. Fixer. Cipher. Others, he was sure, though he had never heard them. No name, just a designation: Cipher One. Cipher Anything. Cipher Anywhere but here.

The lift shuddered to a halt. Wynston flicked on his helmet lamp and fell in line.

In canon, Wynston's eldest brother was instantly killed when a piece of mine equipment failed. His parents and surviving siblings did have the money to get offworld not long after. The family settled in an Imperial colony of dubious quality of living; Wynston, not wishing to go halfway, pressed on to Dromund Kaas and the opportunities therein. After this background, Wynston loves the Empire. A lot.

Not all what-ifs are terrible, but I've already spent some time struggling with the question of why any alien would voluntarily immigrate to Imperial space and deal with the racism I see there. I thought back to immigrants to America, who showed up to get pretty awful treatment themselves. The answer has to be some combination of opportunity at the destination...and something unlivably awful at the source.

I don't actually know a thing about the Chiss Ascendancy, nor the world of Rentor apart from ten seconds' wiki searching to get the name. I make those parts up as I go.

"Aphosite" is also made up; "aphos" is slapped-together Greek for "lightless."

I chose "Winston" (or the non-taken variant "Wynston"), first, because Winston Churchhill was an unlikely-seeming guy to save Britain, but he did, and I wanted my unlikely hero (in this case, scrawny, compulsively neat, seemingly more of a desk jockey than a savior) to be that for the Empire; and second, because I remember with such a wonderful chill the final line of 1984, in reference to protagonist Winston: "He loved Big Brother."

Wynston does love Big Brother. Lots! And that only got more and more delicious as the Agent plotline unfolded...

Darth Alyssum found out Vriska cheated on him?

Meenah had warned me: Intelligence could keep me away from my husband, for the most part, but there may be times when I'd have to go to him. Keeper called me back to the Citadel abrubtly, telling me that my husband was insisting I spend a few weeks with him.

"He is a Darth, I can't refuse him," she told me. "I didn't even know you were married, Cipher. Usually Intelligence doesn't accept married agents."

"Mine's a special case," I muttered, avoiding her eyes. She didn't press it. It was well-known that when Sith married non-Sith, their spouses were usually glorified punching bags. I could feel her watching me walk out of her office, the other agents watching me leave, like they knew why I had been granted leave, and they felt sorry for me. A few naive ones looked jealous. If only they knew this was more like a prison sentence than a vacation.

Truthfully, I had planned to never see Darth Alyssum again. That was why it was so easy for me to feel free, free to give myself to men in order to gain information. In the back of my mind, part of me still felt afraid, and rationalized that I was still faithful, that I'd done it for the good of the Empire. But was I being honest with myself? I doubted it, mainly because I was starting to develop feelings for my subordinate, and I didn't care.

The first afternoon I was back, Darth Alyssum presented me with a beautiful gown of red Lashaa silk and a set jewelry more precious than anything I'd ever seen before - for a party that evening, he said. I was suspicious, and remained silent and cowed when he called me to depart for the party. I was terrified that he'd called me back for some other, more sinister purpose. Maybe even to kill me. But when he offered me his arm, he actually smiled at me.

"You look beautiful, my lady," he said softly.

I was shocked. He'd never shown me any sort of tenderness or kindness before. Still suspicious, I rested my hand on his arm and let him lead me to our private shuttle.

When we'd taken our seats inside, he put a hand on my cheek and gently turned my face to look at him. My red hair, cropped short for my new job, cascaded over my eye, and he brushed it aside. His eyes seemed softer, kinder, even as I noticed they were tinted redder than when I'd left him. He kissed my lips, my ears, my neck, over and over again. I remained stiff as a droid, oddly more terrified by the change than by what he'd been before.

"Don't be afraid, Vriska," he murmured. "Please don't be afraid of me."

I began to wonder if he'd genuinely changed. Maybe he'd realized why I'd joined Intelligence. Maybe he regretted shocking me when I'd told him I was joining up. I knew better than to trust him, but I let myself entertain the faintest of faint hopes.

The party was typical; Alyssum's behavior was not. He was attentive to me all night, complimenting me openly and telling his Sith friends how his lovely wife served the Empire. He touched me lightly, almost like he was hesitant, trying to make up for past mistakes. Like he knew he'd done wrong and was trying to make up for it. Whenever no one was looking, he kissed me. Sometimes when they were.

"Why do you seem so surprised?" he asked me halfway through the evening. "I missed you."

I had no answer for him. I'd barely said anything since I came home, so I just forced out the words, "I missed you too, my lord."

By the time we returned to our mansion, I was bewildered but hopeful. Alyssum hadn't once harmed me or said anything against me. He'd been kind, loving, charming all night. He'd even been...romantic, which he'd certainly never been before. When he led me to our bedroom, I actually felt a strange flutter of something - excitement? Attraction? - that I'd never felt before.

I stood by the window, still in my dress, wondering if I was going to give in to that feeling. I knew I would probably regret it. But maybe it would help me just get through the night. I certainly didn't love him. I doubted I ever would, even if he had changed. Even if I could forgive him for how he'd treated me in the first four years of our marriage. But maybe I could learn to accept him.

As I stood there, thinking, I felt his hands on me again. He was standing behind me, again kissing me with a tenderness I'd never felt before. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to just live in the moment. Maybe I could, for once, experience something sort of like love. But when I closed my eyes, I saw the image I kept trying to fight off. The person I was increasingly thinking of, that I feared I really wanted to be with. Vector, why aren't I with you tonight?

I felt Alyssum's breath on my ear, and I heard him say my name. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and I felt my body start to relax. And then, so quietly I almost couldn't believe it, Darth Alyssum whispered, "Onomatophobia."

I froze. The feeling of helplessness, of complete loss of control, returned to my body. "How did you know?" I managed to ask.

"It doesn't matter how I know," he said. His hands on me were a hard, tight grip. His kindness was all a lie, just to disarm me, to make this moment sweeter for him. I had never felt such strong hate for another person than I did for him.

"Tell me the truth: have you been unfaithful to me?" Alyssum asked quietly.

"Yes," I said.

"Hm," he said, as though that was the answer he expected. "And is there someone you have feelings for? Beyond friendship?"

I wanted so badly to lie. I knew that giving him this information might mean the end of my life. But still, I heard myself say, "Yes."

Alyssum took his hands off me. "I expected as much. You intend to leave me, don't you?"

"Yes."

"But you won't," he said. "You belong to me. You won't attempt to divorce me."

"No. I won't."

I could hear the smug smirk in his voice, even if I wasn't looking at his face. "How nice that I have this new way of keeping you in line. If only your father had had it, too. Perhaps he could have kept you from developing such loose morals."

I remained standing there, staring out the window. I swore I would find a way to kill him. He could order me not to divorce him, but I'd find a way to make myself a widow. I wouldn't rest until I did.

"One more thing, Vriska," Darth Alyssum said, his voice quiet. "The man you have feelings for?"

I couldn't bring myself to breathe.

"You'll kill him."

I felt my mouth open, to scream, but my husband said, "Now sleep, Vriska." And the world went black, and I felt myself falling.

It's just a what-if, doesn't really happen, I totally would not make Vriska kill Vector!

The existence of the keyword in any remotely sexual situation freaks me out more than almost anything in this game's universe. Aaaaaauuugggghh, and you set it up well.

Xanara had thought many times about the people she had met over the course of time, those that helped her during hard times. It had not been easy living as a slave; friends were a rare commodity in such an environment and when they suddenly disappeared, it was hard. Harder still was to keep on going as if nothing had happened as asking questions would attract the wrong kind of attention. Smuggling cartels were not known for liberal thinking and slaves were bought not to think, but to work and keep quiet. They were supposed to be non-existent and to carry out their jobs as requested.

Sometimes, she had thought that droids had more value in the eyes of her masters that the countless living slaves that, most of the time, were consumed by hunger, disease or just plain exhaustion. Not to mention the beatings: they would happen on almost a regular basis but most had no reason to happen. One slave would be beaten because he dropped something on the floor, another because he dared to open his mouth. Others would be punished just because...

It had been hard.

The only time where she felt safe, was in her room. It was not a normal room, more like a prison cell which she shared with a young Twi'lek girl by the name of Nima. She had light green skin and eyes, a small frame but a cute face and a mischievous smile and, for some time, she had been the closest thing to a friend.

She still remembered the nights spent talking about everything and nothing, the daily work, the dreams and hopes and the family they left behind. That thought made her frown a bit: at least Nima knew she had a family somewhere, a family that, one day, she might have been reunited with. For Xanara, it had been a different story as she had been adopted and, the parents she had known, were now nothing more than a memory, killed by the same cartel she was now a property of.

Dead.

All of them. Her foster parents, her hopes, her dreams of one day being free from the binding physical and mental chains, her own feelings. Nima's disappearance had been yet another blow to an already battered spirit. Xanara had tried to figure out what had happened, she wanted to understand why the young Twi'lek had been taken away that night, why she had not returned to her cell but she had not dared to ask, always fearing to be the next one on the list, the next unnamed slave to end up in the beast pens as some sort of sacrifice.

A sour smile appeared on her face. To be considered as a sacrifice, one would have to be worth something but to the cartel, slaves were less than nothing. The beast pens were the garbage disposal, were dead slave were thrown to be ripped apart by different species of exotic and hungry predators. Yet, she could not let the thought go. The question still remained. Why had she died? Had she died at all? Or had she been sold to another owner? Maybe, she had actually managed to escape.

The thought lingered for a moment, bringing a glimpse of hope, like the light of a candle in a dark room. But that glimpse did not last for long as the flame was extinguished by the overwhelming darkness surrounding it. Xanara knew, and had known for a long time, that there was no escape. At least, not while alive.

Death.

That was the answer. Maybe, that was what Nima had sought. She was now free, no more pain, no more fear, no more tears. And that's what had led Xanara to seek it too, but she could not do it on her own. However, the solution came to her by considering her surroundings: just as her captors were the ones to deny her freedom, her captors would be the ones to set her free.

It all happened so quickly from the moment she assaulted a guard with a rock she had managed to hide in a fold of her tunic, to being overwhelmed. She was no match for trained killers but that did not matter as she had achieved her purpose. And just as she was expecting, she had been punished that same day.

Now, she was laying on the ground, the metallic taste of blood in her mouth but she no longer cared as freedom was within reach. Only a few more moments of a life that had given nothing to her, save for the promise of oblivion, where her chains would no longer bind her. She almost did not feel being picked up by her jailer. Was he finally going to end it all? She found herself standing, barely, against the wall. She did not have the strength to raise her head and so, she focused her eyes on the floor. Why was it taking so long?

The man standing in front of her was saying something she did not care to understand. For her it was nothing more than words. Why was he talking at all? Was he asserting his dominance? Something about having his way? Of course, it was to be expected from this type of men. They do not have the strength to dominate their peers and so, they take out their frustration on those that are not in a position to defend themselves. She would be yet another nameless slave to fall to the depravity of such men. Just like Nima.

The name struck, crystal clear through the haze of her mind.

She raised her head to meet her captor's gaze and the sight shook her. Something deep within her swelled and burst, something never felt before, but it all came rushing out throughout her being in a tidal wave.

Hate.

It was spiralling out of control and the more it filled her, the better she felt. Death was the solution, but before she died, she wanted to close her hands on the man's throat. She raised her arms, almost lunging for her target but her legs did not move. Her hate now filling every pore of her skin, she screamed, her voice filling the room as raw energy flowed from her fingers tips, enveloping the man in front of her.

When the screams stopped, Xanara was standing in front of a burned corpse. She was breathing hard but she no longer felt weak. She had never felt something so strong, so...invigorating. Like a drug, she felt the urge to taste more of its power and the more she craved it, the more her anger would surface.

Anger.

Angry for having lived years in captivity. Angry for being afraid. Angry for letting such creatures control her life. Angry at herself for spending such a long time chained in a prison built by her own unwillingness to free herself.

Seething, she realised that more guards would be on the way, to see what had happened and she welcomed the thought. They will all suffer, their pain will fuel her resolve. Death was, indeed, the solution. Not hers but of those who dared restrain her, for she would no longer wear chains.

Her hate had set her free.

Another of my characters who had to go through a name change after the server merge. Xanara is not the original name, unfortunately but...oh, well...

Athra entered the bridge one afternoon to speak with Quinn. She only remembered to because he had sent fifteen different urgent messages to her asking for an audience. Anything to get him to stop!

“My Lord, there is something I wish to discuss with you when we have a moment of privacy,” Quinn said quietly.

“We have privacy now,” Athra stated.

He looked around the bridge nervously then nodded. “Right then.”

She waited patiently while the Captain gathered himself. He was always strange during private moments like these. If he wasn’t dodging her advances he was talking strategy and, right now, he seemed to be coming to grips with something. Maybe he was finally done dodging. Maybe he was –

“I’m a spy for Darth Baras,” he said stiffly.

Maybe he was a lying son of a b*tch!

“Come again?” Athra asked angrily.

He cleared his throat and tugged at his collar nervously. “I – I’m Darth Baras’ spy.” When she reached for one of her lightsabers, he put his hand up to stop her and took a step back. “But I can’t do that anymore!” he said quickly.

She let the saber dangle threateningly in her hand. He eyed it wearily until she spoke.

“What made you change your mind?” she asked with deadly calm.

He shifted his eyes to hers and licked his lips, his favorite nervous habit.

“As you know, Darth Baras saved my career after the fiasco known as Broysc,” he said quietly. She made a motion with her hand and he quickened his speech. “I swore my loyalty to him, but I’m falling in love with you.”

“You’re what?” she asked nearly dropping her saber.

“I – I’m falling in love with you,” he stuttered. “My feelings for you take precedence over my loyalty pledge to Baras,” he finished firmly.

She stared at him for a long moment. She could throw him out the airlock, but he had eventually come clean.

“Why did you wait until now to speak up?” she asked firmly.

“Because I think you’re falling in love with me… Am I wrong?” he asked quietly.

“If I say no, will you go back to spying and reporting to Baras?”

“Of course not.”

“Then I think we have much to talk about,” she said softly.

He nodded swiftly. “Of course. I have kept copies of all my correspondence with Baras.”

“I’m not talking about Baras,” she said lowly.

“Wha – oh… oh! Of – of course, my Lord,” he stammered pathetically.

I haven't decided whether or not I'll post this in the Quick Quinn Quotes thread... We'll see I guess.

Lord Ninka stared in morbid fascination as the Captain’s face went from pink, to red, to purple, to blue. He had lost consciousness long ago, he was probably dead, but she was not done yet. She snapped his neck. Something in her heart shifted, as if a long present thorn had been removed. It hurt, it bled, but it would heal now. She breathed deeply and looked at her faithful companion, he had warned her it was probably a trap, and she agreed to bring him along.

When the Voss warned her that she would be betrayed, she assumed it was either Pierce or Quinn, but did not know which. The one thing she did know, the two men could not possibly work together. Either way, she would have an ally in this room.

Pierce was looking at the dead Captain a quirk in his lips.

“I feel better, don’t you?” she said looking at the Lieutenant.

“What took you so long?” he replied giving her his elbow.

They walked back to the ship arm in arm with lighter hearts.

They landed on Corellia expecting a war zone, what they saw instead was shocking. The spaceport was in chaos. Lord Ninka grabbed the arm of one of the soldiers who ran past her.

“What’s going on here?” she asked the man who wore his uniform backwards and had lipstick smeared across his face.

“He’s gone! The Quinn is gone!” He said with a smile that threatened to split his face open. A young woman, an ensign by what was left of her uniform ran up and kissed the soldier smearing more lipstick on his face.

“You’re it!” She shouted and ran off.

“You’re celebrating Quinn’s death?” Lord Ninka asked incredulously. Her own crew only had a small party with cake, this display was almost unseemly.

“Of course, no more memos, no more reports to our masters that we were breaking such and such protocol, no more reminders about the proper way to press our uniforms. Endless rubbish, we woke up one day and no more.”

“Quinn did all that?”

“Every bloody day, for the entire Empire. You couldn’t escape the man, he knew when you took a six minute break instead of five.”

“I should have killed him a long time ago,” Lord Ninka mused.

“Wait, you did it? You killed him?” He looked excited, and Lord Ninka nodded cautiously, “Hey everyone, this is the Sith Lord who killed the Quinn.”

Cheers erupted and the crowd rushed Lord Ninka and Pierce. They found themselves hoisted onto the shoulders of a dozen officers and were paraded into the street. There they found no combat but parades and dancing. After a few laps up and down the block they were set on their feet at the base of the stairs.

“What happened to the fighting?” Lord Ninka asked when she caught her breath, the ride had been quite exhilarating.

“Without the Quinn we stopped getting reminders every five minutes about why we were fighting against the Republic.” One man said.

“Without the Quinn they stopped getting communications every other minute about why the Empire was superior.” A woman with laughed.

“Without the Quinn we realized that war was pretty silly since both sides have done bad things. And without the Quinn to enforce all the protocol and bureaucratic nonsense we actually managed to have a decent round of negotiations with the Republic.” Darth Vowran said walking up the street. He looked cheerful but regal and was every inch a Sith scholar except for the silly hat he wore made of torn up propaganda posters.

“So you’re safe now?” Lord Ninka asked.

“Oh yes, quite, well at least here. We still must convince the Dark Council that Baras is not the Voice.”

“Let’s get to it then.” Lord Ninka was glad she would finally be able to punish her former master.

They arrived at the council chamber to find Darth Baras’ smoking corpse.

“What happened here?” Vowran asked his cheerful expression replaced by disappointment at having missed it.

“Without the Quinn,” Darth Marr explained, “Logic and reason started working again. I asked him a question only I and the Emperor know the answer to, he didn’t know, he was lying so I killed him.”

“I helped!” Darth Ravage said waving his lightsaber.

“Ahh, well couldn’t you have waited till I got here?” Vowran asked with irritation.

“Sorry.” The Darth shrugged and sat down.

“Guess nothing for me to do here either.” Lord Ninka nudged the corpse with her foot. She peeked under the mask and shuddered putting it back.

“Oh,” Ravage said, “The Emperor wants to see you, I think the Hand are sticking him into a new body right now, by the time you get there he should be ready.”

“Sure ok.” Lord Ninka shrugged and pulled Pierce out of the room. He looked very disappointed.

They arrived on Dromund Kaas again the difference was obvious.

“Am I seeing color?” Lord Ninka asked.

“The Quinn did not like color.” A female soldier answered, “He thought he looked best in grays and reds, and he wanted to make sure everyone else was compared to him, so grays and reds for everyone.”

“Ahh, of course.”

“Did the man never sleep?” Pierce asked. Lord Ninka had worried the large man would miss the fighting but his eyes crinkled with good humor.

They caught a speeder to the dark temple and found the room where the ritual had completed, the Emperor sat on a throne, he faced a Jedi with red hair and a small droid.

“I don’t want to do this,” The Jedi said, “It’s not too late for you to turn to the light.”

“I don’t think so,” Lord Ninka drew her saber. The Jedi turned to face her new opponent.

“Ladies, ladies,” the Emperor intoned. “Don’t fight. Here look,” he got up and walked down the stairs. He put his hand on Lord Ninka’s shoulder she put away her saber with a bow. The Jedi reluctantly did the same.

“For the past millennia and more," the Emperor began with a sigh, "The Quinns have sent me memo after memo reminding me how the Republic chased the Sith to the ends of the galaxy. The great purge this, the Hyperspace wars that, sloppy, messy, insufferable, blah blah blah, I just wanted it all to stop. That’s why I wanted to destroy the galaxy.”

“Why didn’t you just kill them?” Lord Ninka asked with disbelief. She had not known the Emperor had planned to destroy the galaxy.

“I COULDN’T.” he yelled. “The Quinns would be right in front of me, kneeling, almost dead, and when I thought, ok time to end this ridiculous man’s terrible existence, I had no choice! He had to live. I was so depressed, for years I just meditated on how I could kill off his line. I couldn’t find a way.” He hugged Lord Ninka, his shriveled form looked creepy but he was quite warm and soft, something like a grandfather.

“So, you’re not going to destroy the Galaxy?” The Jedi asked, suspicion clouded her yellow eyes, but a spark of hope was there.

“No,” he looked at Lord Ninka, “wait, are you pregnant? With a Quinn?” The Jedi and Pierce looked at her expectantly.

“No,” she said blushing, “we, ahh, hadn’t got to that base yet.”

“Good, how those Quinns managed to get their heads out of their arses long enough to procreate is beyond me.” The Emperor smiled, “Oh, hey bring Lord Scourge in, it’s safe now.”

The Jedi brought out her holo-comm and called in her companions. A motley group appeared led by a large Sith pureblood.

“You were to kill him. Only his death can ensure the safety of the galaxy.” The Sith raged.

“I don’t want to destroy it anymore.” The Emperor explained. “Here look into my mind like you once did you’ll see.” The Sith eyed the Emperor but complied.

“Bunnies?” Lord Scourge said, “Really?”

“I’ve always liked them,” the Emperor said defensively. “As a show of good faith I’ll give you back your ability to feel.”

“You said the ritual could not be reversed," Lord Scourge accused, "and that I lost my feelings to cope with the pain I was in.”

“Yes well I fibbed a little. I was irritated because the Quinn at the time wanted to change the Imperial salute to hold for a second longer. He said you could barely tell the difference between the salute and simply standing straight. It was maddening, do you know how long it took to get everyone to salute the same way again?”

“My ability to feel?” Lord Scourge reminded the Emperor who was becoming more and more like an absent-minded old man.

“Yes, of course.” He waved his hand casually. The Sith lord sniffed the air, he rubbed his palms together, he looked over at the Jedi, he stepped back in shock.

“Remi?” he said as if it was the first time he was seeing her.

“That’s the first time you’ve used my name instead of just Jedi.” She smiled. The Sith grabbed her and drew her into a passionate kiss.

“Let’s go find somewhere to make out.” He said. She grabbed his arm and dragged him away.

“Good ideas all around.” The Emperor said cheerfully. “Pair off as you like.”

Lord Ninka looked over at Pierce and raised an eyebrow.

"Major Sana Kaarde, commanding officer of Havoc Squad, here to see the Chancellor," Sana told the new assistant at the desk.

The Mirialan glanced at her face, the two small arrow shaped tattoos under her eyes, and dismissively pointed at the chairs in the waiting room. Sana smiled grimly at the implied insult.

"It's an interesting story," she said conversationally.

"Excuse me?" the new assistant raised an eyebrow.

"My tattoos, it's an interesting story."

"I find I lack interest in someone so obviously inexperienced," he said, turning away from her, "I will call for you when the Chancellor has a moment for lower priority..."

"I got these the day I graduated from marksman school. Best in my class. Best in nearly a decade."

The assistant crossed his arms and glared balefully at her.

"They sent me out in the field almost immediately. High priority target. My team went in. My adrenaline was running, first time out on an op. The commander gave me the kill order, and I when I looked through the sight, my target was holding the hand of his young son."

Her reluctant audience almost looked interested.

"And I took the shot. I took the shot because this man was responsible for the deaths of thousands of our soldiers, the enslavement of tens of thousands of civilians, and would continue if we let him live. And after I took the shot, I watched through the scope as his son cried over the body of his father, and I decided I needed no more markers on my face. This one was enough of a reminder of what I was capable of, what I could do."

Sana leaned across the desk, eye to eye, Mirialan to Mirialan. "I'd suggest you remember that the next time you refuse to give a commander of Havoc Squad the respect they've earned," she growled.

"Chancellor? There's a Major Sana Kaarde here to see you. ... Yes, I'll send her right in."

Sana smiled, "There, was that so hard?"

“What do you mean you lost the ship?” yelled Rixik.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Kirya yelled back.

“How could you lose the Sirocco, Kirya?” Rixik repeated, pacing the cramped stateroom and pressing his fists to his forehead.

Corso stepped into his path, “Give the lady a break. Skavak had everyone fooled.”

Rixik shouldered him aside, “You stay out of it,” he snapped.

Corso refused to back down, “Make me.”

“That your hair, or did your mom drop you in a computer terminal?”

“Why you—“

“Oh for the love of—“ Kirya shoved the pair of them apart, “Fine, I’ll go down to engineering for a tape rule and we’ll measure. You—“ she poked a finger on Corso’s chest, pushing him back a step, “You’re not my mom. I don’t need protection. And you—“ she wheeled on Rixik, “Knock it off. Corso’s good people.” Kirya backed away from both of them, hands on her hips, “Now, I’d say ‘kiss and make up’, except that you’d kiss Corso like you do me just to see his reaction,” she concluded, giving Rixik a scathing look.

“Of course,” said Rixik, pretending to look innocent, “it would be hilarious.”

Kirya gave him a playful shove, “You’re incorrigible.”

“I am not. You should know,” he protested. He sat down heavily on the foot of the bed, head in his hands, “It’s just…Sirocco was everything we had, Kirya. We can’t make payments if we can’t haul freight. I suppose I should be glad it’s a corporate loan. They’ll at least holo a few times before sending in the Houk goons.” He looked up, glaring at Corso, “And if I’d have known those blasters were going to Rogun the Butcher I’d never have taken the job, not to mention letting my wife deliver them. Alone. That’s your buddy Viidu’s fault, isn’t it?”

Corso frowned, “Hey, Viidu’s dead, pal, he didn’t exactly get off scot-free. And it’s not like I have a job anymore.”

Kirya sat on the bed beside Rixik and wrapped her arms around him, “Corso knows some of Viidu’s contacts. He wants to get Skavak as much as we do. He’ll help us get the ship back.”

Rixik remained still, “I know some people too,” he said softly.

Kirya took his chin in her hand and turned his face to hers, “No. You promised.”

Rixik enfolded her hand with his, “I don’t like it either, but we might—“

“No,” she repeated, “We’ll go through Viidu’s people first and see what happens. Trust me. We’ll get Sirocco back. Everything will work out.”

“That’s why I love you. You’re so much more optimistic than I could ever be.”

“Mmm I just want your body,” she said, leaning in toward his lips. Rixik embraced her, pulling her partly onto his lap. They kissed, his one hand gently stroking the base of her lekku, the other pressed into her lower back.

Corso flushed and turned away, suddenly engrossed in the emergency evacuation procedures plaque posted by the hatch. After what felt like an eternity he cleared his throat, “Ah, you two, er, want some privacy or something?

Kirya snickered. Corso turned back to see the pair of them sitting side-by-side on the bed. “I win,” Kirya said with a smile.

Rixik tapped his chrono, “Five seconds. Just five more seconds,” he looked at Kirya, “I think that’s close enough to call it a tie.”

Kirya poked his chest, “I think you owe me an evening in the observation lounge. With nice clothes and dancing and everything.”

“Mmm then I win anyway,” Rixik said, giving her a peck on the cheek.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Am not.”

Kirya stood up, “I’m going to see if the food on this tug is any good. There’s supposed to be a buffet on somewhere. I’ll leave you two to get a bit more acquainted.”

“Why, he staying?” asked Rixik.

Kirya kissed the top of his head, “I promised him a place on the crew when we get our ship back.”

“You did, huh?”

“Yep,” she said, slipping out of the room.

The door slid closed. Rixik raised one eyebrow, “So, what exactly did you do for her on Ord Mantell?” he asked.

Corso waved his hands, “Nothing like that, I swear. She needed some extra firepower going after the seps, so I volunteered to help her. That’s all,” he stared at his feet, shuffling from side to side, “I was taught to be nice to ladies. I couldn’t let her go up there by herself. Wouldn’t be right.”

“You give her that blaster too?”

“Flashy? Uh, yeah, I did.”

Silence fell in the room. Rixik drummed his fingers on his knee, “You named your blaster?” he asked.

“I…yeah I did. Skavak stole Torchy.”

“What do you call your shaver? Nick?”

“I only name—oh,” Corso grinned despite himself, “Got a knife called Hewie.”

“You’re a weird kid, Corso.”

“You named your ship, right? What’s the difference?” Corso asked.

“Ships are, well, ships,” said Rixik, “And you’re not on the crew. We don’t have a ship, so we can’t have a crew. I am not paying to crew a ship I don’t have.”

“Kirya said—“

“You help get Sirocco back and we’ll talk.”

Silence settled again in the stateroom. Corso broke it, “You really love her, don’t you?” he asked, “Kirya, I mean.”

“Kid,” said Rixik, standing, “Kirya’s the only thing in the whole universe I love. And Skavak hurt her. Screw the ship. He hurt Kirya.” The Twi’lek’s face set into hard lines, “When I catch up with him—and I will—I’m going to make that pustule-on-the-underside-of-a-Hutt wish he was never born. Then I think I’ll sell slivers of him to the highest bidder. Guy like Skavak, lots of people gonna want to own a piece of him.”

Corso coughed, “Wow. Uh, you do that to everyone who pisses you off?”

Rixik laughed, a genuine smile on his face, “Not anymore.” He stepped in close to Corso, “She’s sweet on you, I can see it. You’re like a flit-glider chick fallen out of its nest to her; all puffy feathers and big eyes. But just so we’re clear, I’m the senior husband, got it?”

Corso nodded quickly, “Clear,” he agreed.

“Good,” said Rixik, slapping him on the shoulder, “I’m going to go find the buffet.” He sauntered out of the stateroom.

Corso let out a breath. “Senior?” he said as Rixik’s words sunk in, “hey, what do you mean by senior husband?” he called, jogging out into the hallway.

I doubt anyone’s keeping track, but in case someone is: Kirya’s ship is usually Fifty Percent, which was the ship’s name on its original registry. She never bothered to change it. I have an (as yet uncompleted) story where she changed it to Sirocco after reconciling with her family. A reference to Ryloth’s heat storms—her father called her ‘his little heat storm’ since she would do what she wanted, and everyone better get out of her way. In this alternate universe, that reconciliation would take place sooner, so I changed the name accordingly. Yeah, ok, probably too much information.

“You are depleted Baras, you hover a breath away from destruction”, said Svein pointing one of his white blades at Baras as he lay on the ground in front of him.

He looked around at the rest of the Dark Council who were in shock that Baras was finally going to be killed. The one who they thought was the Emperor’s mouthpiece was being killed by a random Sith Lord who they had recently become acquainted with. To Svein it was glorious to finally see Baras overlook something in his scheming mind. The biggest traitor the Empire had ever produced was about to be eradicated and Svein would bring the master stroke.

“You think you’ve won”, Baras chuckled as he stared up into Svein’s turquoise colored eyes;” I wasn’t lying when I said I was the Voice of the Emperor.”

“The true voice isn’t you old man”, said Svein bringing a lightsaber closer to Bara’s chin,” You locked the true voice on Voss. You tricked our Emperor into manifesting a mystic.”

Baras began to laugh and suddenly Svein was pushed back by the Force. He crashed into a wall landing on the ground with a loud thud.

“The Emperor wants to renew this broken galaxy, these pathetic lives that roam the streets”, he raised his hands indicating the Council,” He wants to remake all of you, to make you more powerful than you can possible imagine even in your imperfect state.”

Svein got up from the ground looking up at Baras who ignited his lightsaber.

“The Emperor calls for the servants of the Empire, his trusted council, to kill this child.”

“Your nothing but an old fool,” exclaimed Darth Vowrawn defiantly igniting his lightsaber.

“And you are nothing but a disgusting worm”, shouted Baras sending a volley of lightning at Vowrawn.

Vowrawn was unprepared for the attack, but barley jumped out of the way causing only some of the lightning to burn him. He landed at Svein’s feet brushing off the slightly burned clothes.

Svein got into a fighting stance, ready to face Baras. He wasn’t going to let his lies creep into his mind.

“You are defiant young one”, said Baras laughingly,” Come Council let’s kill these fools and remake this galaxy.”

The Council only sat in their seats in silence.

After a moment Svein said chuckling,” Looks like your little speech didn’t work so well after all.”

Svein then began to charge Baras ,but just before he could strike he stopped and fell at Baras’ feet. Something evil and dark was edging its way into his mind, overwhelming him. He looked up at Baras to see that his eyes turned a deep red and dark energy rolled off him.

“I will destroy you”, screamed Baras his voice sharp and horridly dark.

Svein could feel something terrible flowing through his mind, almost like it was taking control of him.

“You all shall die with him”, said Baras glowing slightly purple.

Suddenly, a storm of lightning filled the room and the Council room was filled with screams as the very essence of the dark lords seemed to be ripped out of them. Svein lay on the ground in front of Baras gripping his head in agony as the lightning penetrated him.

Suddenly, the room became as it was before only the council lied scattered around the room, their bodies stripped of life. But, it was an unnatural death; they were much more than dead it seemed as though they were never alive. Inanimate objects that were simply there, absent.

Svein whimpered as he looked up at Baras. He had defied the Emperor unknowingly, but discovered that he was not who the Empire perceived him to be. Svein knew he must end Baras or the rest of the galaxy would become just like what occurred moments before.

Baras knelt beside Svein his eyes red with undeniable hate and evil. “I want you to burn for what you have done to keep this pathetic galaxy from being reborn.”

Suddenly, Svein’s head was smashed into the floor, creating deep hole that now had some of Svein’s blood and some of his nose. Baras levitated Svein to look at him and then smashed him against the wall and began to electrocute him. Svein’s innards were hurting with uncontrollable agony and his mind felt like it was being pulled apart. He screamed in pain and begged to be let go of.

Then his wish was granted and he lied on the floor, dying.

“You were never going to beat me Sith,” said Baras mockingly,” You never stood a chance.”

Svein tasted blood in his mouth as he inched a little to hunch against the wall. He could see his cybernetic implant that kept his nanites under control clearly across the room; now he had no hope of survival and would die with the haunting thought that everyone he cared about would die a terrible death.

“But, I can’t let them die”, thought Svein. He knew however hope of survival was gone for him, and with his strength gone he would never be able to let anyone know of what the Emperor planned for the galaxy. Then an idea hit him, one that had a slight possibility of working.

Svein looked deep within himself to become as serene as possible and at peace. It was an old technique taught by the Jedi, often known as becoming one with the force.

After moments Svein was dead. Baras walked over to his lifeless body and chuckled heartily and walked out of the Council chambers.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“I can’t believe he is dead”, said Vette sobbing on Jaesa’s shoulder.

“Neither can I”, said Quinn quietly,” He was one of my only true friends.”

Peirce set a hand on his shoulder,” That’s something we can both agree on.”

Jaesa quietly cried looking up at the ceiling of the ship. She always wanted to know what he thought of his life. He had never told her much about his past, his life as a whole, he simply wanted to know about her. He was selfless and kind like that; he didn’t care about what would happen to him as long as he served the Empire and his friends. He taught her that she must be like that too. What the galaxy should mimic. He used his anger to save lives and did what was necessary for people to live and deliver justice when the need arose.

He was her best friend and she never once got to know him.

“I’m sorry”, whispered Jaesa as she hugged Vette tight.

Suddenly, the room was filled with a blue light that blinded the crew as they looked away. The light soon faded and Svein stood before them in a blue transparent light.

Svein began to speak as his awed crew stood speechless,” Hi everyone, surprised to see me?”

Vette ran up to come face to face with Svein, her eyes filled with tears of joy. Jaesa, Quinn, and Peirce walked slowly and cautiously towards Svein, almost unbelieving.

“You’re not dead”, exclaimed Quinn, a small tear running down his face.

“Actually, he is dead. He became one with the Force before he died,” said Jaesa walking over to put a hand on Quinn’s shoulder.

“You are right”, said Svein looking down at the floor,” But, I came to tell you all something urgent. It concerns the entire galaxy.”

“What’s it you want to tell us”, asked Peirce curiously.

Svein looked up at his crew,” The Emperor is nothing but a lunatic. He intends to do something horrible to the galaxy.”

“What”, asked Vette in surprise,” But, you always spoke of how great the guy was. Heck, you even worked for him.”

Svein’s face looked troubled. His brilliant turquoise eyes had an almost angry look that disturbed Jaesa greatly.

“The Emperor wants to “remake” the galaxy, and Baras is his Voice,” said Svein urgency slight in his voice,” I saw what he did to the Council and whatever he has planned cannot be allowed to happen.”

“So, what can we do about it”, asked Quinn almost doubtful.

Svein was silent a moment, thinking through his words. Then he spoke,” I need you to stop him and Baras before he acts on his plan. I need you to rally the Republic and the Empire to destroy him.”

“And what about you”, asked Vette.

“I have always loved you Vette”, responded Svein walking up to her,” Even if I’m gone remember to do the right thing and know that I will always be watching.”

Vette swallowed a lump in her throat and responded tearfully,” I will.”

“That’s right”, said Svein smiling. He stepped back from his crew and grinned,” You all are more important to me than anything. I hope you all live long and happily.”

With that Svein disappeared, fading as if he were blown away by the wind.

“Then it’s over. We have lost. Our hero is gone”, said Quinn after a moment of silence.

Jaesa responded with a confident aura,” No Quinn we mustn’t lose hope. We are only the first of many heroes. We will rise against the odds and save the galaxy.”

Jaesa walked to stand in front of her crew,” We will continue his legacy and destroy the Emperor. It is our destiny.”

“I second that”, said Vette walking over to stand beside Jaesa.

“Me too”, replied Peirce defiantly.

Broonmark howled in agreement as he went to stand beside Peirce.

“How about you Quinn”, asked Jaesa curiously.

Quinn stammered pathetically,” I want to help, but it is foolish to take on an enemy who clearly has the odds stacked against you. No, I will honor his memory and regard him as a friend, but I will never lay my life down to die for nothing.”

“Even after he gave you mercy”, exclaimed Jaesa furiously.

Quinn’s face turned beat red with anger,” Don’t even think about telling them that!”

“He let you live and you won’t lay down your life to do him the favor of carrying out his final wishes”, yelled Jaesa putting her hands on her hips.

The room was quiet for a moment with the crew staring at Quinn who stood alone on the other side of the ship’s main room.

“I can’t”, said Quinn turning away,” I simply can’t.”

“Your more of a loser than I thought”, said Vette in a surprised voice.

The comment cut through Quinn like a knife. He didn’t want Vette to think less of him even though he never told her how he felt about her. But, what could he do? He knew none of them would stand a chance against the Emperor. However, perhaps there was something he could do…

Quinn sighed and turned to look back at his friends, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I will not fight him. But, I will prepare and be ready if you don’t return. The galaxy needs to be ready if he strikes”, said Quinn silently.

“Then I have one thing left to do”, said Jaesa walking over to him.

“What”, asked Quinn swallowing a lump in his throat.

Jaesa grabbed Quinn by the collar and kissed him. She kissed him like she truly meant it and made it count. Quinn breathed deeply when she released and gave her a tight hug. He had never known that Jaesa had feelings for him and quite frankly neither did he.

“Thanks”, said Quinn.

Jaesa replied walking back to the other end of the room,” Your welcome.”

With that Quinn walked out of the ship, vowing to make the Emperor pay.

I always wondered if Baras was lying or not and I figured this would be what would happen if he actually was the Voice. Also, the nanites are in Svein's head that were injected by a crazed Sith scientist who wanted to see if the tiny machines would enhance his force abilities. It did enhance his concentration and willlpower ,but it ravaged Svein's mind in the process and Azra built a way to combat it and also worked on healing his mind.. However, if the implant came off or was destroyed the nanites would kill him. Just in case you were wondering.

Maura woke up her little sister, excited for her. This day, her fifteenth birthday, was going to be a wonderful day, or at least as wonderful as Maura could make it. Miriah never got the parties and such that Maura and Magdalane had as small children, so now that Maura was working in the receiving facility at the temple and making a little money, she wanted to do something special for her.

Miriah had been saving herself for this day. She’d spotted the one, the one she wanted and intended to make her own. She hadn’t told her sister, since she knew Maura wouldn’t approve. She’d even dreamed of it, sighed over what was to come. She felt a sensation in her very being that was exciting to her. Everything she had done over the past few days had been laced with this anticipation, this need. So when her sister woke her and told her that she had a day planned for them both, Miriah felt the anxiety of her plans being reset. She felt the disappointment, sharp and breathtaking, take over the happiness of her birthday, but she knew one day wouldn’t matter. He would still be hers.

They spent the day doing girl things, talking and laughing, visiting with their older sister at the temple. Maura and Magdalane had both given Miriah what she’d requested, credits. When they had dinner at home, Miriah was beaming, knowing her destiny was in sight now. She fell asleep dreaming of what would be, and woke with the sun.

Miriah paced anxiously, waiting for the first glimpse, the rush of seeing her wish fulfilled. When the weapons shop opened, she was almost giddy with the prospect, but she’d been looking long enough to know exactly what she was after. She made a direct line to the display of shotguns, seeing the slightly smaller, double-barreled model she’d been dreaming of still there. She eagerly handed over her credits, and took the weapon in her hands, releasing a slow breath of admiration. It was perfect! It fit her small frame as if it had been made for her, and on the way out of the shop, she slung it over her shoulder, and smiled.

You never forget your first shotgun, after all.