In this AU, the parents of two of my characters from the Short Fic thread (Esma and Skari) never left the Empire. Instead, their Force-sensitive daughter became a Sith. Names have been changed, or rather retained, from their childhood. Ukaita is Esma. Also, a couple other changes in this AU, namely Lord Scourge stayed on as Wrath, his vision while still involving Esma/Ukaita does not involve a Jedi, and I've magically made his life extra long (but not immortal) and no one can sense his emotions but he still has them. Ukaita's story somewhat mixes SW and JK, but Baras is a minor irritant instead of a major player.

At this point, Lord Scourge and Ukaita are enroute to take out one of the Emperor's cults which are trying to destroy life on a planet in a huge suicidal shindig. Very serious stuff...

"If I were Emperor, I'll tell you what I'd do. Pink. There would be pink cloth available in the Empire. I'd find whoever put out the edict that only red, purple, gray, and black were acceptable and string them up while I was at it."

"Oooo, and yellow, don't forget yellow," Vette said. She was laying on the bed in the ship's stateroom next to Ukaita's pink fluffy bunny, throwing popcorn in the air and then catching the pieces in her mouth. "It looks great against my skin, but I haven't found any in like forever."

Ukaita caught sight of a large form in the shadow right outside the door out of the corner of her eye as she pulled a pair of old dueling leathers out of the wardrobe.

"And then I'd smack all the fricking purebloods, just smack the living daylights out of them."

"I think some of the purebloods might have something to say about that," Scourge said, stepping into the room.

Ukaita looked towards the door with a sly smile. "I'm sure they would. They always have something to say when someone 'not of the blood' shows them up. It usually sounds like 'ow, ow, don't hurt me'." She gave Vette a look and the twi'lek muffled a laugh and bounced out of the door, taking her popcorn with her.

Scourge studied her. "Your species does not often produce Force-sensitives, the Sith bloodline does."

"A fact that has been made clear to me on many occasions, I assure you," Ukaita said, tossing a set of wrist braces onto the pile of leather on the bed, "I am seen as either a threat or a plaything. To be feared or lusted after."

"Which do you prefer?" he asked.

She laughed, "Clever. I'd rather be feared, but lust..." she walked toward him, her hips swaying, and leaned into his chest "...lust is fun."

Scourge's jaw tightened for a brief moment. "But neither lust nor fear is respect."

She tilted her head, tapping a finger on his chest. "Respect. That's an interesting desire for a Sith. Have any others?" She grinned and walked away from him.

"You play with fire, girl," there was a threat in his voice.

"One of my favorite pastimes," she said teasingly, "Along with planning my ascension to Emperor."

"If you're done," he said firmly, "it is time to stop this cult from destroying life on this miserable planet."

Ukaita began unzipping the robe she wore and dropped it to the floor. Behind her she heard a curse and then the stomping of feet.

Scourge could hear her laughter follow him down the hall.

“Read these.” Lord Scourge placed a pile of data disks on the small desk in Coremi’s room. She had moved into the servant’s quarters in his suite on Balmorra under the pretense that he acquired a slave. If any of her resistance friends saw her they would assume she had been captured. She picked up the first data disk, loaded it and started reading. He stood and watched, the disks were meant to ascertain the level of her education.

Coremi went through the first five disks then put down her datapad. She looked at him searchingly, “You don’t seem like the joking kind,” She began, “and I do appreciate the idea that the Empire has the equivalent to See Adson Run, Run Adson Run, but how stupid do you think I am?”

Scourge shrugged, he had been expecting that response. “The later ones are more difficult, continue.” He crossed his arms.

She loaded the next disk, read through it rolling her eyes, ejected it, flicked it at him with disgust, and loaded the next one. She continued the process through the next ten disks. Scourge was pleased enough with her obvious level of education that he let the abuse pass without comment.

She stopped somewhere near second year Academy biology. He frowned, at this point he was hoping she would get further. He reached over to take the datapad from her but she pulled it away, a grin spread over her face.

She cleared her throat, “Anatomy of the Sith species. The Sith, known alternatively as Red Sith or Sith Purebloods, are characterized by red skin that varies from a burnt orange to dark red. The Sith physical profile includes facial tendrils, a genetic predispositions toward left-handedness, affinity toward the dark side of the force, and bone spurs that take the form of ridges or protrusions. Bone ridges may appear anywhere on the body and in some cases may cause discomfort such as difficulty walking and urinary dysfunction.” At the last part, she put her head back and laughed. Widening her eyes, she looked him up and down, “Fascinating, are you trying to tell me something?”

He put out his hand for the disk without changing his expression, “Had I known you would be crude I would not have included biology.”

She ejected the disk and flicked it at him. “Doc taught me biology, he never told me Sith were so special,” she murmured still smiling. She went through the rest of the stack and stopped at hyperspace engineering. She held up the pad and shrugged, “Never thought I’d leave Balmorra alive, only thing I’ve ever piloted couldn’t break orbit.”

Scourge nodded with satisfaction, “Your education exceeds most in the Empire, tell me, how is that possible?”

“My mother said we’d see the end of fighting within my lifetime and a free Balmorra needed people with brains. She tried to make me more than just a killer,” she frowned at the datapad, “not sure she succeeded. Anyway, when you’re waiting for your target to show up so you can shoot him in the head reading is just about the only thing you can do.” She skimmed through the rest of his data disks and separated them into two piles. She handed him one and kept the rest for herself.

“What would you have done with a free Balmorra?” He did not care about the life he was taking from her. Her destiny was far more important, but he wanted to know if she had any plans, they could be used as additional motivation.

Her ability to read his face and guess his motives were improving at an alarming rate. Her eyes narrowed and her smile grew coy, she was about to speak when a knock interrupted her.

Scourge opened the door to the suite to find a small man wearing clothing marking him as a Balmorran craftsman.

“My lord, I am Talbert.” the man said bowing awkwardly, “You requested a slave collar?” Scourge nodded and let the man into the suite.

Coremi walked into the room slowly keeping her eyes on the floor. “Cori?” He asked with surprise, he glanced nervously at Lord Scourge. “Apologies, my lord.”

Scourge was curious how the man knew his companion, “Please continue, reunions amuse me.”

The man tittered nervously but turned back to Coremi, “You wouldn’t remember me, but I knew your mother, Selena, you look just like her. How is she?” He touched her cheek.

She did not flinch but Scourge could sense her revulsion, “Dead.”

“I’m sorry,” he said sadly snapping the collar around her neck and fitting it carefully. “I was quite fond of her, we were close before she met your father.” The insinuation was obvious, but Scourge could not imagine a woman desiring the little toad of a man.

“She spoke of you,” Coremi said evenly, the man smiled eagerly and she smiled back, “I believe the nicest thing she said was coward, it went sharply downhill from there.”

The man’s face transformed with an ugly scowl, “Harsh words from the daughter of a wh*re, I was simply wise enough to accept reality and work for the lawful rulers of Balmorra.” He adjusted the collar again making it just a little too tight.

Coremi smirked and he turned away.

Talbert plastered on a smile facing Lord Scourge who still held an amused expression. He produced a remote and entered a code, “This model is modified with Balmorran ingenuity, the first level is just the tiniest little sting.” He pressed the button barely making her jaw twitch.

“That’s what my mother said about you.” Talbert spun around to see Coremi grinning maliciously. He switched the remote to the maximum setting and held the button down. She could not cry out, she could only fall over on her side, her back arched and her jaw clenched.

Talbert smiled and turned in time to see the back of Scourge’s fist. With a crash, the little man hit the wall and slid to the floor. He looked up in terror as the Sith advanced on him.

“How dare you seek to damage my property?” Scourge hissed.

The man wheezed and gasped clutching his face.

“Answer me.” Scourge grabbed him by the collar and shook him. A foul odor rose from the man as he soiled himself but he still could not answer, his jaw was broken. Scourge let him go with disgust. “Get out of my sight.” The man scurried away trying to hold his face together.

Scourge watched him go then shut the door. He turned back to Coremi who had pulled herself to a sitting position against the wall. A medkit lay open on her lap and she was slowly trying to open a kolto pack with numb fingers. He cursed and picked up the remote, pushing the collar release button, it fell away revealing a pattern of burn marks that circled her neck. He opened the kolto pack for her applying the gel-like substance to her burns. He noticed that they overlay older burns left from serving Darth Lachris.

She grabbed a strip of kolto, stuck it in her mouth and chewed on it. The flavor of kolto gel used in bandages was something between ocean sludge and poison. She made a face, spat out the bandage, and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. The bandage was covered with blood but her breathing was less raspy and she was able to speak.

“It was foolish to goad him while he held such power over you,” He had no outlet for his rage, it took all of his self-control not shake her until she behaved herself or charge after that fool and kill him.

“So I’m your property now?” She raised an eyebrow at his words to Talbert. She seemed amused and the anger at her drained out of him.

“You are mine, you have said so yourself.” He reminded her.

She grinned at that, “You wanted to see what I would do.” She explained leaning forward so he could apply kolto to the back of her neck. “I wanted to see what you would do.”

“Did you hope that I would kill him?” He applied the kolto lightly but he sensed the pain singing through her body.

“Nah,” she hissed slightly, the only concession she made to the pain, “too much attention.”

He agreed picking up the collar and offering it to her, “It is only for appearances, but if you do not want to wear it I will find another excuse.”

She shook her head, “It’s a good ruse, I’ll slice it so that it can’t do more than the tiniest sting,” she grinned again, thinking about Talbert, “So, back to your question from earlier, I would find all the traitors like him and kill them.”

She took the collar from him then frowned, grabbed some kolto, and smeared it across the back of his hand. A small gash and a large bruise had formed from striking Talbert, Scourge looked down in surprise, he had not noticed. He stared at her small pale hands against his large red one. They looked delicate as they rubbed kolto on his wound but they felt steady and strong, he wondered if they were strong enough to kill an immortal. He captured her hands in his and looked into her yellow eyes, the flames that danced within them were even brighter than before.

“A waste of your time and talents,” he admonished, but he looked at the slave collar then at the Talbert shaped dent in the wall, “But I do promise, if nothing else, we will kill that one.”

Balmorra

10 ATC

K’hera dreamed of the inquisitors.

The pain was like an endless symphony—rising and falling, melodies and harmonies all swirling together. And the questions, always the questions, picking her apart piece by piece until her mind was as ravaged as her body.

She woke suddenly, breathing hard, covered in sweat. Every night, she relived the horrors she had undergone. In the light of day, the memories were distant and indistinct, as though her conscious mind couldn’t bear to recall any of it. Sleep brought it all back with merciless clarity.

K’hera sighed and slid out of bed. Her Sith Master, Darth Evendre, had been executed as a traitor and a heretic. K’hera was the one who had revealed her treachery, but that had not saved her. They had to be sure that she’d had no part of it. And so the inquisitors came and took her away to a place where the Force was only a distant whisper and there was nothing left in her existence but pain…

She shook her head, trying not to think about it. As usual, it was a futile exercise.

They had set her free by order of Darth Baras. He claimed that she had potential. She had no idea what potential he could possibly see in a broken-down Sith apprentice who couldn’t even touch the Force anymore, but she was not about to object.

She owed Baras, so now she served him, existing in a capacity somewhere just above the lower-ranking military and far below any of the Sith. She had been on Balmorra for two years, now. It was a miserable, backwater, mud-covered rock, but it was out of the way enough that few Sith ever went there, and that was a relief. She couldn’t stand the shame of seeing the looks on their faces as they clearly wondered, what was a young Pureblood woman like herself doing in a pseudo-military outfit with a blaster instead of a lightsaber?

Ever since her release from captivity, it was as if her Force-sensitivity had vanished. Sometimes she imagined that she could almost feel it, a shimmering energy hovering just out of reach behind a veil.

There was no point dwelling on it. Darth Baras’ apprentice was supposed to arrive today, and she had to be ready for him.

Even without the lightsaber plainly visible at his side, K’hera would have recognized the man as Sith the instant he stepped into the room. His bearing held that distinctive confidence, that air of subtle superiority that only a follower of the dark side could pull off. Unlike most Sith, however, he also had an aura of cold, tight control. Whatever passions drove this man, he kept carefully hidden away.

He was far from unpleasant to look at, she had to admit. Dark hair, blue eyes, rather handsome face. He was dressed in unadorned black armor that was clearly intended to be purely functional rather than a fashion statement. It suited him.

A young Twi’lek woman skulked in his wake, a shock collar prominent on her neck, her eyes nervously darting everywhere. K’hera was slightly startled to see her accompanying the Sith, then shrugged inwardly. To each their own.

The Sith apprentice stopped in front of her. His eyes went from the ridges on her face to the blaster at her side, and back again. His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. That was the standard reaction, but she still hadn’t gotten used to it.

If he asks me about it, I’ll hit him, Sith or no Sith, she thought grimly.

“You are K’hera Dhakar, I presume,” he said. It was not a question.

“That’s correct,” she responded coolly. “And you are Darth Baras’ apprentice. I’ve been expecting you.”

The Twi’lek slave crept up behind him, eyeing K’hera curiously.

“Indeed,” he said. “I am Malavai Quinn. I trust you are prepared to assist me with my mission here?” His voice was cold, clipped, every syllable clear and precise.

There was a note of condescension in his tone that made her bristle. “Of course,” she snapped. She stepped over to the holoterminal. “Lord Baras wished to speak with you once you arrive. I’ll patch him through now.” She entered the frequency and left the room.

Two years without the ability to touch the Force had given her an incredible perspective on what it was like to be a Force-blind in the Empire. She had learned a great many things, foremost of which was that most Sith were arrogant bastards. This Malavai Quinn was clearly no different.

I’ll put up with him for now, she thought grumpily. We’ve only just met, and already I can’t wait to wash my hands of him.

“Your final target,” K’hera said, biting off each word irritably, “will be the Balmorran Arms Factory. The resistance has made it their base of operations…” She proceeded to explain the history of the place.

Malavai made no move to interject. He simply stood looking at her as she talked. She imagined that she could feel his gaze burning into her, weighing, judging.

“…and that’s that,” she finished. “No doubt you’re excited by the prospect of laying waste to that place,” she added sourly.

He raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. “I prefer other ways of deriving excitement.” There was just enough emphasis on the last word to suggest a certain degree of innuendo.

Damn, she’d walked right into that one. “I hope you’re not implying anything improper,” she said.

“Whoever said anything about impropriety?” he asked innocently. “I was merely clarifying your statement. Of course, if you’re suggesting that you meant something else by that…”

“I did not,” she said frostily. First he looked at her as if she were dirt on his boots, and now he was possibly trying to flirt with her? “If we can please move on?”

For the first time, Malavai smiled. It was a very attractive smile, if somewhat predatory in nature, and K’hera found her pulse quickening slightly in spite of herself. “We can continue this discussion later,” he said softly. “By all means, finish your briefing.”

K’hera ground her teeth in frustration and continued her explanation.

“What do you mean, the Jedi is escaping?” Malavai demanded.

K’hera suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. “I mean exactly what I said! The investigator heard your damn conversation and is presently headed for the spaceport here in Sobrik.”

“This is your fault,” Malavai said icily. “It’s your job to prevent this sort of complication.”

“This was not my fault!” she said heatedly. “I kept up with the Jedi as best I could! You can’t blame me if she was eavesdropping on you. Now, are we going to argue about this all day or are you going to head back here and stop her?”

“Keeping track of the Jedi was your responsibility. I should make you handle it.”

“You know what? Maybe I will!” she snapped, and closed the channel.

She stormed over to the spaceport, muttering to herself the entire way. Halfway there, the sheer idiocy of her plan—or lack thereof—hit her full-force. Was she really going to take on a Jedi by herself?

Two years ago, it wouldn’t have been a problem. Of course, two years ago, she’d been a full Sith. The Force and lightsabers made fighting Jedi exponentially easier.

To hell with it, she thought. I said I’d handle it; I can’t back down now. Maybe the Jedi will be a pushover.

She caught up with the Jedi just as the woman was entering a hangar. Ducking down behind a stack of fuel drums, K’hera drew her blaster and aimed carefully. With luck, she could shoot the woman in the back.

Unfortunately, the Jedi’s danger sense seemed to kick in at the last minute, and she drew her lightsaber just in time to parry the shot. K’hera fired again, then realized the idiocy inherent in taking cover behind an explosive substance while fighting with incendiary weapons. She ran out from behind the fuel drums, wishing that she had a rifle instead of a pistol. Not that it would have made a difference, as she had no idea how to use a rifle anyway.

The Jedi intercepted her halfway to another cover point. She knocked the blaster from K’hera’s hand with a single sweep of her lightsaber. K’hera immediately ducked inside her next swing and grabbed her by the wrist, silently thanking whatever benevolent powers existed in the universe that her speedy reflexes had not completely vanished with her Force-sensitivity. She twisted sharply, and the Jedi’s fingers sprang open, the lightsaber tumbling free.

Instinctively, K’hera grabbed the weapon. It felt strange to hold a lightsaber after two years, but she wasn’t about to complain. She started to cut towards the Jedi when the woman reached into her robes and pulled out another lightsaber.

Fantastic.

After a single exchange, K’hera knew that she was in trouble. She was far better fighting with two lightsabers than with one, and while she was still fairly fast without the Force, in a lightsaber duel that wasn’t quite fast enough. The Jedi neatly disarmed her and held the lightsaber to her throat.

“It’s over, Sith,” the Jedi said grimly.

K’hera stared at her defiantly. So this is how it ends, she thought. Not quite how I wanted to go, but I suppose it’s better than this miserable existence…

“I would not be so certain of victory if I were you, Jedi,” declared a voice.

It seemed that Malavai had finally deigned to show up.

And here she was, at the Jedi’s mercy. K’hera had never been more embarrassed in her life. She felt blood rush to her cheeks.

The Jedi looked quickly between the two Imperials, then apparently decided that Malavai was the greater threat and charged towards him.

After a pitched battle, the Jedi finally fell to her knees, one hand pressed against the fresh slash across her torso. “You are too late,” she gasped. “It’s over. The proof has been transmitted.”

“What are you talking about?” Malavai demanded.

“Your conversation with Commander Rylon has gone to the Jedi Council. Now Nomen Karr has his evidence.”

“Do not think that your idle threats will save you.”

“I am not concerned for myself,” the Jedi whispered. “I am at peace, knowing that the greater good has been served.”

“Um, actually,” K’hera started. Malavai glared at her, presumably for stealing his spotlight. She glared back and continued, “I intercepted that transmission. The Jedi know nothing.”

“Are you certain?” Malavai asked.

“Yes,” she snapped.

He raised an eyebrow. “Impressive. Miss Dhakar, I may have underestimated you.”

“Don’t call me Miss!”

In the background, the Twi’lek slave pressed a hand against her mouth, stifling a giggle.

“I apologize if I offended,” Malavai said smoothly. “I was simply uncertain of your proper title.”

“K’hera. It’s my name.”

“The use of your first name seems rather…intimate…to me.”

Oh, damnation, was he flirting with her again? “I don’t care how ‘intimate’ you think it is,” she said irritably. “I am not some Kaas City socialite and I refuse to be addressed like one. Am I clear?”

“Quite clear, K’hera,” he said softly. How could his voice be so cold one moment and so warm and inviting the next? And the way he said her name… She shivered involuntarily.

“I hate to interrupt,” the Twi’lek said, speaking for the first time, “but what about her?” She gestured towards the Jedi.

Immediately, Malavai was back to business. “Send for soldiers to take her into custody,” he ordered K’hera. He smiled thinly. “A captured Jedi investigator will be a wealth of information.”

Another shiver swept over her, this one from fear as she remembered what that would entail. The pain, the questions, always the questions… She shook herself, forcing the fear to the back of her mind, and reached for her comlink.

Darth Baras was in high spirits. The same could not be said for K’hera when he sent Malavai out of the room to speak with her privately.

“You want me to what?” she spluttered.

“You heard me,” Baras said. “I want you to accompany my apprentice in his travels and report to me on his activities.”

“But I—my lord, I really don’t—I mean—“ K’hera took a deep breath and tried again. “I would prefer another assignment. Any other assignment.”

“Does the thought of spying disturb you, K’hera?”

She shook her head. “Not at all, my lord. The thought of having to spend an extended period of time in close proximity to your apprentice, however…” Her lip curled.

Baras chuckled. “Let your hatred drive you. It will make you strong.”

K’hera realized that there was no way out of this one. “I…I will do as you command, Lord Baras,” she said reluctantly.

“Excellent,” Baras purred. “Wait for Malavai at the spaceport and offer him your services.”

“What if he won’t let me come with him?”

“Failure is not an option, K’hera,” Baras said ominously. “You will do this. Need I remind you of the consequences if you do not?”

“No, my lord,” K’hera said disconsolately. He’ll send me back to the inquisitors. “I’ll go at once, my lord.”

“Good. Serve me well.”

She brushed past Malavai on her way out of the building. He caught her by the arm.

“You wanted something?” she demanded, yanking free of his hold. Too late, she remembered that she was supposed to ingratiate herself to him. Oh, well.

He gave her another heart-melting smile. “It was a pleasure to work with you, K’hera,” he said.

She forced herself to smile back. “You as well,” she said tonelessly, then fled.

She could feel his eyes on her as she quickly walked away.

K’hera stood in the hangar, running over her speech in her mind. She was only going to have one shot at this. She was not going to fail.

She was so intent on her silent rehearsal that she didn’t even hear Malavai come up behind her. He tapped her on the shoulder and she spun around, startled, nearly tripping over her own feet.

“What brings you here?” he asked curiously.

Everything that she had been planning to say flew straight out of her head when she looked into those dark blue eyes.

“I…um…I hope you don’t find my presence here intrusive,” she stammered. Oh, that’s a great start, K’hera. “It’s just that, um, Lord Baras has given me leave to work anywhere I choose, and I…well…”

She stopped and took a deep breath, trying to organize her scrambled thoughts into something coherent. Malavai regarded her with a faint expression of amusement on his face.

“I want to make a difference in the Empire,” K’hera said. “And it seems to me that since you look to be a rather up-and-coming apprentice, and all you have for support is that Twi’lek, and well, I thought you might be able to use me.”

“Indeed,” Malavai murmured, looking at her intently. “I could certainly use you. But what can you do for me?”

K’hera swallowed hard. “I used to be a Sith,” she said in a small voice. “I don’t have the Force anymore, but I still know things. I can help you.”

“I’m curious to know how exactly you lost your Force-sensitivity.”

“It’s a long story,” she said hesitantly.

He nodded. “And you will have plenty of time to tell it. I accept your offer of service.”

Wait, really? “I—that is—you, um, honor me,” she said slowly.

He looked at her expectantly.

What’s he waiting for—oh. Oh, that son of a… “My lord,” K’hera whispered through gritted teeth.

Malavai smiled charmingly. “Excellent. I’ll be pleased to have you with me, K’hera.”

K’hera closed her eyes for a long moment, then followed him onto the ship.

There was no going back now.

So yeah, that's the premise. Note that K'hera is indeed the same person as A'tro from "Afterimages." However, in this timeline, she's been through some pretty awful stuff so her personality is a bit different. I'm not quite sure how happy I am with this piece, but I figure it's okay. I'm still fine-tuning Sith!Quinn's personality.

I'm glad to see him show up here, as your Watcher X. For someone who came out of nowhere at the Quesh state of the plot and only lingered for a few planets worth of plot, Draahg had an impressive influence on the story. I really liked the conversation options with him during the mission where you rescue him from Baras's old master, where the Warrior reflects on the inevitability of being betrayed as a sith. "One day, this will be us," or somesuch. That has echoes going backwards in the plot (with the missions to wipe out Baras's loyal agents) and going forwards (with Quinn's betrayal). I also seem to remember some NPC calling the Warrior on it (saying Baras, or someone else, would turn on her one day, I can't quite remember), to which I had her blithely reply: "Comes with the territory." And it really did...

In any case, in spite of everything, I found myself sympathising with Draahg a fair bit. He clearly suffered a lot and it find it hard not to feel bad for someone who's gone through that level of pain. Putting him in the same position as Ruth in his fic only amplifies the effect, even if she's only realising what happened to him as she hallucinates. (I mean, I'm guessing that's what happened and Ruth wasn't totally imagining everything.)

He understands the game, and yeah, you can have some truly knowing exchanges where an insincere cooperation alternates with blunt recognition of how it's going to be in the future.

While Ruth obviously has no way of knowing his full story, the realizations she's coming to here are substantially accurate. And if she makes up a little filler in the hopes that he would've been sympathetic, well, one can hardly blame her.

Now I probably oughta do a Life and Death that actually involves an NPC surviving or dying in a way they didn't in the story. (Here, Draahg does indeed die against Ruth somewhere between Belsavis and the end of Voss.) I have one very strong other-NPC idea in mind...

Miranda stood on the bridge of the Fury contemplating the events of the last twenty four hours. Baras had promoted her, and freed her from Balmora, had assured her, that her part in Anders operations had repaid her debt and that she was free to apply to any post of her choosing. She had been bursting with gratitude and pride, had bid farewell to the distractingly handsome and flirtatious Anders Ordic and set out to see about being posted to a dreadnaught, under her favorite Moff.

Everything had come crashing down when moments after Anders had left, her holo had rung again. It had been Baras.

“Ingratiate yourself to my apprentice, I want you on his ship, I want you to be my eyes and ears.” He had ordered.

“My Lord? I don’t understand, you indicated my debt to you was fulfilled, I was hoping to take a posting on Moff Sarit’s dreadnaught. With respect…” The Sith lord cut her off mid-sentence with a dark laugh with no humor in it.

“Miranda, my dear, I lied. I want Anders to think it was your idea, I want him to think you are one hundred percent loyal to him, I want him to depend on you. Make no mistake who your master is, I own you, and I can tear you down as easily as I bore you up. I expect weekly reports, and I expect results, by whatever means necessary, my apprentice is no fool, make him believe you, trust you.” The implications made her feel sullied, “Do I make myself clear?” All pretenses were gone, how easily her life was dictated by the whims of this Sith, the memory of agent Rylon fresh.

“Crystal clear my Lord.” She felt her heart sink as she spoke, and deleted her application to Moff Sarit as the holo call cut out.

***

Anders walked onto the bridge, all confidence and charm. Miranda turned towards him and stood at attention until he nodded his head, indicating she should stand at ease. She grasped her hands behind her back, and he looked her over once more with appreciative eyes.

“I trust you’ve gotten yourself settled and acquainted with the ship Captain?” The rough timber of his voice was both pleasing and mocking. This man liked to tease, it was altogether maddening.

“I have my Lord, I am at your disposal.” She cursed inwardly to herself, he would twist her words, innocent as they were, into something else. Regardless of what Baras had implied, she had never, nor would she ever debase herself to using her body or her femininity as a tool or weapon.

Anders ever smirking lips twisted up into a downright heart rending smile, Miranda pinched herself behind her back, keeping her face neutral, despite the way his facial tattoo crinkled or how his green eyes lighted with mischief.

“Perhaps I should inspect your quarters Captain, make sure they are up to code.” Predictable, and yet she pinched herself again, willing the heat in her chest to not rise to her cheeks.

“You will find they are spotless and in order, My Lord.” She had played this game before, she wasn’t going to bite.

She was known as the ice queen for a reason among her peers. She could have escaped Broysc’s fury if she had allowed him into her bed, she could very well have made Major by now if she had allowed various superior officers to take advantage. In fact she could have had a comfortable office on Drummond Kaas instead of Balmorra if she had accepted Baras’s offer. She had more integrity then that, but her career had suffered for it.

“You will also find I am fully trained in all aspects of operating this vessel. I can both navigate and pilot.” She changed the subject in hopes of showing him, she was so much more than her anatomy and appearance. The statement earned her an impressed raised eyebrow.

“If you’re half as good at evading obstacles as you are my advances, then my ship is in good hands.” He put his hands up in a surrendering motion.

“I’m here to do a job, my Lord.” She spoke unflinching, unmoved by his charm and friendliness. She pinched herself for the third time.

“You’ve made your point Captain.” He took a step forward, and brushed her cheek, then with a quizzical look brushed it again, he realized it was two tiny moles and not dust on her cheek. Miranda glowered at him for deigning to be so forward and familiar. He looked down at her, mocking smirk back in place. “I’ll stop pestering you. For now.” He walked away looking back over his shoulder once.

Only when she heard him enter the common area did she let out her breath. Unprofessional, arrogant, maddening Sith, she brushed her cheek, still feeling the residual effect of his hand. Damn him.

The gender bending really changed my outlook on the whole situation and some gender prejudices come to light:

I find myself sympathizing a lot with your female Quinn, when I was just laughing at the male Quinn's embarrasment . Like in one case it's harmless fun, and in the other it's verging on harassment.

It seems like the line between flirting and harassment is even thinner now, as the relationship looks even more unequal after the gender switch.

I guess you purposely skipped the cutscene at Sobrik spaceport, somehow it would have felt really awkward with a female Quinn

Really looking forward to reading more of your story, that's quite a challenge you took here! keep up the good work

I was going to mention the Sobrik cutscene and her going down on her knees and stuff...but it was just making the whole passage feel redundant, and yes awkward. In the end I cut it, not liking how it jived with the rest of the scene.

"It's your responsibility now. Everything we built, everything we hid from you…you're the only one like us left. You'll take good care of it. But between you and me…I want to show you one last thing."

Wynston kept his mouth shut and his pistol trained on the battered Hunter. Around them the forcefields of the Codex chamber whispered on the edge of hearing.

"I was trained by the best," said Hunter in a soft singsong voice. "Killers, slicers – I even went to Tatooine to see the Old Man." A sudden shimmer of energy, and Hunter's familiar face faded and dissolved into that of a slim short-haired woman. When she spoke her feminine voice was heavy with pain. "I haven't shown anyone my real face in a long time."

"I see." He kept his aim steady. "And you're finally past lying about it. I suppose you don't have to anymore."

She looked at nothing and smiled, weakly. "Do you still hate me like this? I was a little girl when they found me. They erased my name, my planet…eventually it's easier to make up someone new. By the time you came along, it was too late to change. But you understood, you knew I liked you…"

"People who like me don't brainwash me and have me tortured."

"I kept you alive. I kept it interesting. Hunter and Cipher Nine, they're tough ones. They play the game right."

"You talk like Cipher Nine and I are separate. I've shown you what I am, Hunter. I laid it all out."

She dragged her stare up to meet his. "I don't believe that, Wynston."

"I believed it of both of us. I guess it doesn't matter either way if no one ever sees what's under the mask."

She spread her arms. "You see it now." Then folded them back around herself. "I guess that'll have to be enough. Goodbye, Wynston. It's going to be hell without me."

She went for her wrist console and Wynston dove in to grab her hand. Some device on her started spitting electricity, worse than a slave collar. Suicide. Wynston lunged forward, grabbed her jacket, yanked the shock device out. His muscles seized, but they did so after he had a grip, and he pulled the device away and hit his own arm until the object fell free. "You idiot. Listen to me. Don't you understand? We can rebuild the Cabal, better than it was before. We can find a solution that doesn't just wipe out half the galaxy in the hopes that the rotten two percent of it will go away in the process. But I can't do it without you."

"It doesn't work like that."

"Why not?"

"For one thing, you hate me."

"Maybe I did. Maybe I do. But I've seen enough to believe every word your people have said about the dangers of the Jedi and the Sith. And if I'm to do something about it, I need you. You think you can hand me a little gadget and leave off at that? Is that really the most you can do? Is that your idea of being responsible? Come with me, Hunter. We can get it right."

"This isn't how it was supposed to go," she said weakly. "We were enemies. We would have this grand showdown, and only one of us walks away."

"You think it must be you or me?"

"I've known it ever since the day we met."

"Let's change the question. Do you want to die?"

She was perfectly still for a long time. "No," she whispered.

"I thought not. You're lucky I have some expertise in patching people up." He pulled out his medkit and started prepping kolto for her wounds.

He talked while he worked. "This facility is compromised, obviously, if we're to avoid the Imperials. We'll need a vessel."

"A ship isn't a problem. Your friends?"

"There's one I can trust enough to keep in contact with. But his calling isn't out here, not really. The others...their vision isn't mine, and their loyalties aren't mine. That's why I need you. I can't do this alone, I need someone who understands."

"So you would just walk away from them?"

"Do you have any idea what it would mean to me to get things right on this scale?"

"You'll drop everything. Your whole life, to do what you think is right."

"To do the mission. It's nothing unusual."

She laughed softly. "Hell of a mission you picked, Wynston."

"Stop calling me that."

"I can't help it. Cipher Nine doesn't fit."

"I am Cipher Nine."

"I hate to break it to you, but a cipher agent can't be a good person. It's a dirty game he plays. Kindness, compassion, protectiveness toward things that aren't useful to you - all the things I watched you giving to everyone who wasn't me - those aren't in Hunter and Cipher Nine's world. That's Wynston."

"Stop it." Nobody looked at him that closely. Nobody. And Hunter's staring had netted her some wildly false conclusions.

"You said we didn't have to lie anymore," she said.

"I said you didn't have to."

"I always did like you flustered."

He shook his head. "Fine. Call me what you want. Anyway, as soon as we're out of here there's one thing I have to do, and then we'll get to work."

"One thing? Is that…let's think…your little preoccupation, the Castellan restraints program?"

His hands froze for just a moment before he recovered himself. "Yes. I know Intelligence's resources were confiscated, I learned that much before I had to leave to find you. Now I need to hit Darth Baras's records and destroy them once and for all."

"Do you really think you can put that genie back in the bottle?"

"You know Cipher Nine. Do you really think he could fail to try?" He frowned. "Or Wynston, if you insist."

"Hm. I guess not." She let him finish patching up her shoulder, then grinned up at him. "So. You decided to kiss me yet?"

"I wasn't thinking of kissing you."

"You are now."

"Dammit…I don't even like you. I should really just let you bleed out."

"That's a no, then? Too bad."

He looked over her flushed new face. And mentally cursed. "Is it Wynston or Cipher Nine you want?"

"Can't I have both?"

"Hunter, you are without a doubt the most demanding person I have ever met." He leaned a little closer. "I suppose at least I have the satisfaction of knowing you'll live to regret this."

I'm not sure yet what disillusioned Wynston about the Jedi/Republic as a proper solution to everything. Hrm. But anyway, Hunter's survival would lead to utterly hilarious power struggles in the upper echelons of galactic intrigue.

I hated her. I hated her. I hated her.

Just for the hell of it, here's the full 24 videos of how Wynstons' relationship with Hunter went down in-game.

There's a great deal of play I've shoved aside about the potential of main-universe Wynston clinging so closely to his identity as Cipher Nine. There's a lot of material there that I just shelved, and then realized later I had overwritten with random stuff. But Wynston stayed true to the Empire for so long because Cipher Nine is a valuable contributing member of something greater, and Wynston's a dirty poor immigrant alien.

Running themes on the Sword, if I am to continue here: Hiding, "it doesn't matter" and how awful it is to not matter, interdependence, maybe some other things.

I always wondered what it would be like if you could save Hunter. I absolutely despised her until the very end, then I got choked up when she died.

Omg!! Firstly loved!!! Secondly I hated "him" right to the bitter end, then she showed herself, and I still kinda hated her, and then she died and I LOVED her. I LOVE the Hunter character, loved to hate, loved to love, I want to roll a male IA just so I can kiss her. The idea of keeping her alive is so intriguing and juicy! I can't wait to see how you incorporate this tid bit into Ruth's AU.

LOVE!

...honestly, I have no idea how to continue writing Hunter. That man so consistently, powerfully pushed my buttons - umm, Wynston's buttons - throughout the game...it's a huge challenge to think through how to be that antagonistic. It's a character challenge up there with Lord Scourge (any non-daycare version) and Doctor Lokin. And to think all that smarmy chutzpah comes naturally to her...why did I let that wretched woman survive this scene!?...