“Hm,” said Niselle.

“So…we…going somewhere at some point?” Vette said nervously.

Niselle nudged Vette’s boot with her own slippered foot. “You’re not nearly as good as the last slave I had.”

“Can she do the Kowakian monkey-lizard call? I bet she can’t.”

“I’ll zap you two ways at once if you do it again,” Niselle huffed. “Come on, we're leaving.”

“Stop calling me ‘slave,’” groused Nalenne. “I have a name.”

Overseer Harkun and his absurd tendril of chin hair glared at her. “Not one I care about, slave.”

“You know I was only a slave for about eighteen hours. It’s just stupid to keep calling me that.”

“Hm.” He rubbed his chin, looking first fake-thoughtful, then real-spiteful. “So, what was it your handlers called you? ‘Lenny’?”

“NO,” said Nalenne. “You can call me ‘slave.’”

“Enough! You’ve wasted enough time. You have work to do…Lenny.”

Niselle glided into the poorly-lit Imperial office – she wondered whether the poor visibility was supposed to impress someone or just haze newcomers – and made for the craziest-looking person in the room. She had no idea whether he was this Malavai Quinn she was supposed to meet, but crazy was always an entertaining place to start.

The officer currently engaged in berating an underling by grabbing, lifting, and very nearly chewing was a promising start. When his face relaxed out of its furious mask Niselle realized something.

“Oh,” she said, stopping a couple of paces away.

“My lord!” The officer offhandedly tossed his prey aside and saluted. “Lieutenant Malavai Quinn. I’m to be your liaison here on Balmorra.”

He pronounced “Lieutenant” wrong. But that was a correction for later. “Oh,” she said, looking him over. “Oh, yes.”

A satisfactory alarm was taking over his expression. “…My lord?”

“You are exactly my sister’s type. As soon as I figure out what’s wrong with you I might just point you at her. And then sit back and watch.”

“My lord,” he said stuffily, “I endeavor not to have such flaws.”

She arched a hairless brow ridge. “Oh, I could start the fault-finding just looking at you, but why bother? I’m hoping Darth Baras’s little assignment will be more entertaining. So. He wanted you to tell me something?”

Nalenne stalked through the cool still tomb. It was lit by some energy flux in a distant room; when Nalenne reached the illumined doorway she found a severely energy-inefficient stasis field being held in place by crumbling obelisks and force of habit. The whole thing started to dissolve as soon as Nalenne stepped in.

Which left her facing a tall, dark, muscular biped whose previous career could really only be either bodyguarding or sideshow exhibit.

Its clawed feet hit the ground. “Rok’nashtal Tulak Hord?” The monster’s eyes narrowed as it regarded Nalenne. Then, in a guttural yell, “Om nom nom!”

The thing fought like it hadn’t made the effort of so much as standing up under its own power in the last millennium or so. Nalenne, armed only with the sorry training saber she had relieved the last acolyte of, had no trouble beating the thing to its knees.

“Nom,” it yelled defiantly.

Nalenne thwacked it in the forehead, which didn’t seem to distress it much but served as a contribution to the conversation. “Public service announcement you must have missed while you were locked up here,” she said: “I’m not a snack.”

It bared its teeth and snarled, so Nalenne thwacked it again. It shook its head annoyedly and fixed her with its little red eyes. “Voshna Khem Val. Nakh Tulak Hord om nom rek nogh’a.”

Nalenne blinked slowly.

“Tulak Hord om nom,” Khem Val repeated.

“Tulak Hord is dead, uh, Khem. His tomb’s sort of a standing acolyte trap, and we’ve got a bench named after him out on Academy grounds, but that’s really about the limit of his presence.”

Khem looked stricken. “Hasht. Om nom nom regnat’th!”

“So, what, he just left you here one day? Then wandered off and died?” Nalenne considered. “That’s terrible.”

“Narahaaicht’an Tulak Hord.” Khem Val shook his head decisively. “Nom.”

“’Nice to you’? The record seems to speak for itself. That’s really rough, though. And sticking you in a pit like this? I am sorry.”

The Dashade sniffled. “Shneshta Yn und Chabosh.”

Nalenne took another look around the dismal place. “Well, if you’re newly in the market for a Lord of Hate and Master of Whatever-you-said Darkness, that’s something that could be fun to work into my career plan. We should talk.”

“Om nom?” he said hopefully.

“I...don’t really have a benefits plan as such for my followers yet. But I can put ‘devouring Force users who get in our way’ at the top of the list. I seriously doubt anyone else I work with is going to compete with you on that one.”

“You. Child. Come here.”

Niselle took her place at the center of Darth Baras’s office and met his eye, or at least stared at the appropriate spot on his mask.

Baras sighed dramatically. “We all told Overseer Tremel to stay away from you and your sister.”

“You did?” said Niselle.

“Frankly only a complete fool would see potential in either of you. And yet…you survived his early trials. Perhaps he had some vision the rest of us lacked.”

“Oh, he doesn’t,” Niselle assured him. “Choosing me was a stroke of genius, but in everything else? Tremel’s an absolute moron.”

“And morons,” Baras said weightily, “are executed. I grant you immunity from punishment. Kill Tremel.”

“Wait,” said Niselle. “Really?”

“Yes.” He made a shooing motion. “Go on.”

A smile dawned on Niselle’s face. “You mean at a whim you can just arrange immunity for any kill order you choose?”

“Within reason,” said Baras. He sounded a little flattered.

“Noted for future…oh, no reason, really. Now I’ll just be gone a few minutes, Baras. I’m looking forward to working for you.”

The shuttle pad at Korriban Academy stands on a dust-swept promontory, proudly free of anything like shade or seating. Admitting to suffering from the heat marks the weak.

So a curvy Sith pureblood and her short blue Twi’lek slave stood, arms crossed, in identical waiting attitudes.

The pureblood’s sister, this one with less in the way of garish yellow makeup, walked up the path with a hulking many-toothed monster in her wake.

Nalenne looked at Niselle.

Niselle looked at Nalenne.

“What is that?” Niselle demanded.

“This is my Dashade bodyguard. His name is Khem Val. He eats brats like you for breakfast. Literally!”

Khem Val belched contentedly.

“And who’s this?” Nalenne continued gleefully. “Aw, Nis, did you get a servant, too? I’m really impressed.”

“At least somebody is,” chirped the Twi’lek. “My lord here doesn’t appreciate my talents.”

“That’s because you don’t have any,” drawled Niselle, and flicked the collar control just enough to elicit a pained yelp. Then Niselle went back to glaring at Khem Val.

“Nalenne,” she said, “explain to me how I sell you into slavery and the next time I see you you have your own minion? A better one than mine?”

“I’m better than you are?” suggested Nalenne. “I’m on Lord Zash’s payroll now. She actually gives me a stipend to kill annoyances. I’ve never had so much fun in my life.”

Niselle glared. “Well, I am apprenticed to Darth Baras, who could probably beat your Lord Zash with his eyes closed.”

“The famous Darth Tubby? He took pity on you? That’s precious.”

There was a small sound from the Twi’lek beside Niselle.

“Stop snickering.” Niselle shocked Vette.

“Snicker all you like.” Nalenne raised a hand and Force-tugged the remote from Niselle’s fingers. Niselle reached after it, but Nalenne caught it firmly in her grasp.

Niselle’s yellow eyes blazed. “You were never that good at Force tricks!”

Nalenne waved the remote. “Zash. Apprentice.”

“Oh, if that’s how you want to play it…” Niselle drew her lightsaber and took up a stance that suggested she had some idea how to use it. Nalenne pocketed her remote, drew her own saber, and got down to her specialty.

Or at least what had been her specialty until a few months ago, when apparently her sister started training a lot harder than she did.

“Ow!” Nalenne threw a labored pop of Force lightning at Niselle in between saber strikes. “Quit it!” She met Niselle’s saber flurry with a good head of anger and a fair amount of old practice; Niselle still came close to breaking through. “Gah! Khem! Make her stop!”

“Om nom?” Khem rumbled hopefully.

“Not this time.” Nalenne blocked one of Niselle’s strikes, dodged another. “Just make her stop.”

And so, as the fleet shuttle cut from the shimmering sky to the dust-flung landing pad, the Dashade Khem Val firmly separated the two sisters, set Nalenne on her feet, and tucked Niselle under his arm, ready to carry her to some neutral seat on the shuttle out.

Malavai Quinn had never hurt so much in his life. He hurt in places where he didn't have places.

He rose to find the rest of the crew nearby, all in similar shape. He then went to check their opponent: dead. Finally. They were free of Lord Xioban.

The medic in him took over. "Right. Whose in the worst shape?" Everyone raised their hands. "Of course." He set to work, ignoring his own injuries for the time being. They were superficial. Luckily, so were everyone else's. At least the ones that were still alive.

Vette had some nasty burns on her neck from where the Sith had, when she discovered their betrayal, set the shock collar control to "on" and just left it. The enraged Twi'lek had quite simply ignored the pain and fought with everything she had to take down their former master. Quinn disabled and removed the collar, tossing it aside with a look of disgust. The red Twi'lek's eyes met his own questioningly. He'd always hated and distrusted her.

"This will create no difficulty. You are beneath the notice of Darth Baras, and he has no attention span for the details of an operation anyway, despite professing to be interested in details." Another temporary respite. She'd likely be tossed into Dromund Kaas' slave pens and sold again. Vette's look started to harden over again, as it had much of her time with Xioban. "And besides, you've more than earned your freedom."

Tears started to form in her eyes, and she grabbed the still-sore Quinn and hugged for all she was worth, surprised by her own actions. "I knew there was a heart under all those layers of Imperial." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and immediately ran off back toward the ship. Quinn actually managed a small momentary smile. She would likely take her belongings, steal a few things she knew no one would miss, and make her way to Nar Shaddaa or someplace else that thieves and relic hunters could make a living. He didn't blame her.

Next up was PIerce, who was doubled-over and wincing in pain from what appeared to be a back injury. Lord Xioban had leaped and landed on the assault cannon he happened to be using at the time, the first time Quinn had seen her use that move. Obviously, she had kept a lot of her abilities hidden from the whole team.

Apart from a few scratches that were easily treated with spray kolto, that appeared to be most of his damage. The captain accessed a few of the medports on the back of the big man's armor and injected kolto nodules that would find their way to his spine over the next minute or so.

"Suppose you're gonna point out how sloppy I keep this armor." He waited the requisite insulting period of time before adding ironically, "...Captain."

Quinn felt no irritation over this, as he had just witnessed the man save Quinn's life and that of Jaesa, simply by drawing the Sith's attention at just the right time. He really knew how to get under her skin -- no surprise there -- but his utter selflessness in battle touched Quinn and made him realize that there were things more important than discipline.

"Actually, Pierce, I was going to say that despite your lack of discipline off the battlefield, on it...you are quite simply the best soldier I have ever had the good fortune to fight beside. And...I'd welcome you on my team anytime. Any assignment you want, I'll add my recommendation." He let out a breath's worth of laughter. "As long as you actually fill out the form instead of drawing a rude hand-gesture on it this time."

That got Pierce roaring with laughter, and luckily the kolto had kicked in and his back injury was nearly healed already. "Thought that was a good one at the time." He drew himself up, deadly serious, and offered a textbook salute. "Sir." It was the best complement and rapprochement he knew to offer Quinn, and it had its effect.

"As you were," offered Quinn as he returned the salute, not unaffected by the trooper's gesture. That was the first time he'd ever seen Pierce salute anything but mockingly. Pierce shouldered his cannon and wandered off toward the ship, whistling.

Malavai knelt before the insensate form of Broonmark. He had indeed bullseyed the creature right between the eyes and a felt a bit of pride in that, but also a sense of loss. The Talz was clearly very deadly and had a very strong sense of loyalty, something Quinn could appreciate. He had chosen to stick with Lord Xioban and considered all of them traitors for their actions. The captain really couldn't blame him: he had wrestled with that very problem, even knowing how much everyone was suffering at the hands of their lord...and his wife. That would haunt him for a long time, even knowing he had made the right decision.

Quinn felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Jaesa, limping but with no visible injuries apart from that. "Captain?"

"Jaesa. I saved you for last because I owe you my life as an apology for what I had to promise to make this confrontation happen. Baras wants you to be his troubleshooter next...you are to be his apprentice." He began to pace, honestly feeling remorse about handing this young girl over to his master. Quinn knew he was bound to the Dark Council member for life, but Jaesa...

She exuded some healing force energy into him, soothing some of the minor wounds he had been ignoring. "Captain, it's okay. I understood that the moment you asked for my help. And what better way to set myself up to kill him than to become his apprentice?" She smiled, a little maliciously, and Quinn understood just how much she had learned about Sith politics. "The Jedi always lied to me and pretended the Light was the only way. Lord Xioban told me what she understood to be the truth, but she had an equally huge blind spot and thought the Dark was the only way. I understand now that they both have their place."

"So...if I offered you my life..."

"Oh, Malavai, I don't want your life, but you're sweet to ask. You're not to blame for sending me to Baras." She cupped a hand on his cheek and smiled sweetly, a bizarre combination of Jedi and Sith at that moment. "No, I'm going exactly where I must to accomplish what I feel I should: I will find other Jedi and Sith who reject a single path and teach True Balance." She paused and looked mournfully down at Broonmark.

"The difference between the Republic and the Empire is really nothing more than an amplification of the difference between Light and Dark sides. I intend to banish that difference...from the inside." She looked back at Quinn and smiled a small, sad smile. "But I may need your help someday, Captain. Promise me you'll come when I call, and I won't ask you for anything else."

"Of course, Jaesa. Thank you. You can't imagine how much of a load that removes from my mind." They walked back toward the ship together, her hand on his shoulder.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” cooed a voice quietly.

He hated the dreams, the memories. He hated the feel of the lightsaber as it sliced through his flesh and bones as if he were nothing. It burned. He could find no other way to explain it. It was an intense burning sensation that no balm could cool. The only way to be rid of the fire under his skin was to heal and healing was painfully slow.

The cool hand was back on his forehead applying gentle, reassuring pressure, but nothing more. He knew who it was and he hated her for it. How dare she. How dare this alien put her hands on him. She had no right. He hated her the moment he met her. He hated her even more the moment he found himself in her debt. He more hated himself for being so weak that he was in such a situation to begin with.

“You should really change the code on your door,” she said quietly.

“You should learn to leave well enough alone,” he replied, his voice hoarse from both sleeping and screaming. Dreams. He shuddered and she was quick to remove her hand and replace it with a cool, damp cloth. “I don’t need your help.”

“Whether you admit it or not, you need someone’s help and I’ve been the only one to step up and help out. Jaesa’s too shy, Pierce is too never-in-a-million-years, Broonmark would just as soon kill you, and Syla is pretty damn complicated.” She paused. “Unless you’d prefer the droid.”

“Stars, no.”

She laughed quietly. “Didn’t think so.” There was a moment of silence before she spoke again, her voice quiet and reserved. “Look, I know we haven’t gotten along ever because it’s so fun to upset you so much you run and tell on me to Syla, but I get the feeling the dynamic has changed on the ship. I can now bother you to my heart’s content and you can’t do a damn thing about it.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he hissed, opening his eyes and glaring at her.

“Unlike you, I’m not a petty bastard. I’m willing to help you. I always was a sucker for the down and out charity cases.”

He struggled to sit up. He wanted to push her away. He wanted to rip the washcloth from his forehead and shove it in her filthy Twi’lek mouth. Instead he flopped uselessly to his mattress and shot her his fiercest glare, daring her to laugh at him, daring her to show an ounce of pity. But she did neither.

“I don’t like you Quinn,” she said. She paused for his scoff then continued. “And you don’t like me. That’s unlikely to change. Still, we’re on the same ship at least until this Baras thing is dealt with and no one else seems willing or able to help you so…”

“’So’ what? Have you considered the fact that I do not desire nor require your assistance in this matter?”

“I thought about it then I realized you’d be too proud to go to an alien for help. If you want to survive long enough to watch Baras die, you’ll accept the help.”

He bared his teeth at her.

“Oooh, so scary,” she said, rolling her eyes and standing. “I can take a hint. I’ll leave, but if I hear you screaming again, I’ll be back.” She turned toward the door and walked a few paces before stopping as if she forgot something. “Oh, and, if you don’t want me barging in here to help, you should really change the door code,” she said over her shoulder.

“You’d slice the lock,” he shot back.

She shrugged and left him as he wished to be: alone. And, in the absence of her annoying presence, the weight of just how utterly alone he was came crashing down as brutal as the sea breaking against the beach. The chill helped soothe the scorching sensations just under his skin. If only for a moment.

Knightless is a What If story about what would happen if the Jedi Knight, Remi, never became a Jedi.

Background

Remi is the child of two Balmorran resistance fighters. Her real name is Coremi, but it was misspelled in her paperwork. In the canon-timeline both of her parents die during an Imperial raid. At the moment her parents pass, her nanny discovers her Force sensitivity and takes her to the Jedi for training.

The AU begins because her mother does not die, Coremi's Force sensitivity is not discovered, and she stays on Balmorra and joins the resistance. Read the comic

Coremi's mother is killed in a botched recon mission. Her mother's death triggers her Force sensitivity, she begins having nightmares about a doomsday.

She blames the current ruler of Balmorra (Darth Lachris) for her mother's death. She assassinates the Darth and encounters Scourge who recognizes her as the one from his vision.

Scourge tracks her down and offers information about the real person behind her mother's death, Sanju Pyne (IA questline), who replaced Gray Star. Scourge helps her to kill Sanju and retake Balmorra in exchange for her help in fighting some nebulous power he won't tell her about.

Coremi is not used to Imperial discipline and hates both Sith and Jedi. She constantly runs away looking for training outside of what Scourge tries to teach. She finds Master Yonlach (SW questline) who begins to teach her then turns her away after a chance encounter with Sith Warrior, Ninka.

She helps Watcher X survive his encounter with the Imperial Agent. He becomes a resource to her later.

Without the Knight

Without the Knight there is no one to save Doctor Godera from Watcher One on Taris. Doctor Godera is taken to Dromund Kaas as a prisoner where he is forced to do evil science for the Empire.

The Empire steals the plans for the Power Guard project. Lord Praven successfully sets off the Shock Drum but courageous Jawa save the day.

Kira Carsen (JK Companion) ends up doing many of the things the Knight was supposed to (such as saving Coruscant) but she doesn't always follow the rules. As a result, she follows Master Orgus to the Dreadnaught saving him from Darth Angral, unfortunately that means the Death Mark laser is very much still in the hands of Lord Nefarid who uses it to seize Alderaan.

As part of the Imperial takeover of Alderaan the Death Mark laser is used to disrupt all of the Killik hives. The killing of so many killiks nearly destroys Vector (who was not on the planet at the time) and Vector is shipped by the Imperial Agent Vero to Dromund Kaas. Where he is "rehabilitated" and ends up befrending Doctor Godera.

When Coremi learns of the Emperor's plans for the galaxy and his ability to take over the mind of anyone he encounters. She enlists Watcher X's help to develop a defense against mind control.

Without the Wrath

Since Lord Scourge never joins the Jedi Knight's crew and takes Coremi on as his apprentice instead, he never leaves his place as Wrath, finding it more useful to keep up the illusion of his loyalty.

As a result, when Lord Ninka is betrayed by Baras the Hand does not contact her. Instead she goes into hiding unaware that Baras has an agent in her crew.

When Transponder Station time arrives Quinn chooses not to kill Lord Ninka instead he fakes her death and helps her to escape. Broonmark is killed, Jaesa becomes Baras's apprentice, Vette is enslaved and Pierce is saved by General Rakton.

Jaesa discovers that Quinn did not kill Lord Ninka and tries to blackmail him (and also tries to seduce him but she's really awful at it). Quinn poisons her.

Just prior to these stories

Coremi uses a serum derived from the same one used on Cipher Nine. Something does not work and she fails to wake. Scourge believes her to be dead and he calls for someone to deal with her body. Doctor Godera and Vector end up being the ones called to the task. Vector, believing her to be alive, and Godera realizing her value smuggle her body off Dromund Kaas.

Note: There's a lot of little details I'm skipping in this summary.

Scourge slumped against the stone doorway and tried the locking mechanism. The strange contraption responded with a jolt of electricity. He crouched on the floor pressing his palms against his eyes. The darkness of the Nightmare Lands should have been a great source of power for the Sith who dared its borders, but instead the darkness choked their minds and filled them with fear. Even him.

He had not undergone the ritual that would keep the madness at bay. Someone had killed the only Sith who could teach it before he arrived. Scourge proceeded despite the risk, he needed to know what became of his master. He hoped his curse would blunt the worst of the areas effects, but even it proved no match for the darkness of the Nightmare Lands.

He crawled to the body of the Sith who had guarded the doorway. Lord Draahg, he thought absently as he searched the man's corpse. A strange pendant made of bone rested on the dead man’s chest, not a typical Sith decoration. Scourge picked it up and made his way back to the lock. The pendant fit and the door opened.

Inside he found an ancient room with a single occupant.

"Wrath," a familiar voice intoned, "Come to me."

Scourge limped to the figure. The Voice looked untroubled by the darkness of the Nightmare Lands. He wondered what kept him from completing the ritual that would end all things.

He fell to his knees, "Master."

The Voice eyed his weakness with contempt but did not berate him for it. "Darth Baras plays the old games. He maneuvered me here, knowing this body could be bound to this place."

Bound. The word echoed through his sluggish thoughts. "How is that possible?"

"Baras planned my pilgrimage, offered me this body. He knew any Voss who entered this chamber could never leave. The entity, Sel-Makor holds me here, you must end my life to release me from this place."

"Never leave?" Scourge repeated. A park of hope, he prodded his mind into finding a way to escape, ideally without the Emperor knowing of his treachery. But all his years and cunning failed him and he could only stare dumbly at his master.

"I sense Sel-Makor's attention." The Voice warned, "Quickly, my Wrath, strike me down."

His limbs responded to demands not his own. He drew his lightsaber preparing to free his master of his prison. The ground shook.

"No," a voice moaned from the depths of the planet, "Forever bound." Scourge fell backward as the grip on his mind relaxed. The entity Sel-Makor seized control of the Voice and summon twisted Gormak to defend its prize.

Scourge scrambled to his feet and did something neither Sel-Makor nor the Emperor expected. He ran.

"Last chance to declare your undying love for me." Coremi tried to joke as she perched on the ledge of the kolto tank.

He took her hand steadying her. "Is that what you want?" he asked.

Her smile faded, her mouth fell open, but no words emerged.

“I cannot feel the way you would wish,” he tightened his grasp, "But I could pretend." It was all he could offer.

She pulled her hand from his and gripped the side of the tank for balance instead. Her mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "We’ve been through that. I'll keep what's left of my dignity, thanks." She stepped inside and pulled the breathing mask over her face ending the conversation.

The tank filled, Scourge took his place at the microphone next to the console. Chemical programming still required verbal commands. Watcher X’s program would take six hours to recite. The kolto tank and a variety of drugs fed through intravenous tubes would keep her alive during the process. He waited as she settled into a Force-induced trance. Her heart rate slowed, only the steady beep of the medical monitors assured him she was alive.

"Thesh protocol, phase one, no keyword." He read aloud.

"No keyword, Thesh protocol engaged." Her distorted voice confirmed despite that she was unconscious.

"Accept commands from Lord Scourge only, accept no other orders including user." He held his breath.

"Accepting no further orders, biological systems shutting down." The last part of her speech cut off as her body convulsed violently.

The first batch of programming would return her autonomic functions. Scourge read the instructions quickly without pausing. He would breathe again when she could. At the end of his litany of instructions, her heart beat and she could breath again, but he could no longer sense her presence in the Force.

He ignored his misgivings and continued reading, he had no choice. He finished the last line, invoking the final command.

"Wake up." He ordered, but she did not.

He waited, then repeated the command. He checked the programming. He read it again. Nothing. Panic gripped him, he yelled into the microphone issuing commands and kill orders at random. "Wake up." He shouted pounding on the glass of the tank until it cracked and finally burst. She fell into his arms, ripped away from the mask and tubes that kept her alive. He held her as the last of her life signs ceased.

"Wake up." He whispered, and he did.

He lifted his head, the smell of damp soil and death filled his nostrils. He had lost consciousness at some point during his flight from the Dark Heart. The presence of Sel-Makor still battered his sanity. With effort, he tried to remember what he was doing in the cursed lands. A face flashed before his eyes. Coremi. He needed to get back to her. The rest of his memories flooded in, Coremi was dead.

Pain wracked his body, the old pain a side-effect of his immortality, new pain a result of his injuries, and a different pain. His hope was dead and he would never see her again. Grief. It tore at his insides the same as his curse. He made a sound between a laugh and a sob. After three centuries he could feel again. Too late.

The Sith had arranged for his apprentice's body to be transferred to Republic authority on Nar Shaddaa, from there the Republic would see that she was transported to Balmorra. Doctor Godera had simply changed his orders to include himself and Vector as escorts. The other passengers did not bother him, no one was interested in the morbid task of transporting a body.

The lights switched to red and an alarm sounded. The flight crew raced to their defensive stations and the passengers, all off-duty Imperial military, moved in an orderly trot to the weapon racks. The ship shuddered as blaster fire pounded its port side, disabling the defensive turrets.

"Boarding pods incoming." Someone yelled. The ship rocked again as the pods pierced the hull.

Heavily armed mercenaries poured into the transport firing on anyone who gave even token resistance. The fight was roughly even, the mercenaries were all armored and the off-duty soldiers were not, but the mercenaries were significantly outnumbered and the off-duty soldiers were well trained.

"Time to end this," Godera muttered to himself tapping a few buttons on the casket. The doctor had discovered plans stolen from the Republic labeled, The Power Guard Project. It was perfect for adding subconscious mental conditioning to a primed subject. He also used the opportunity to make enhancements. While he had not been able to change her skeletal size, he had been able to add a vast array of cybernetics for improved strength and speed. Cortosis weave skin grafts made her nearly invulnerable to light energy weapons and a kolto injection system healed minor wounds and reduced fatigue.

The Doctor pulled out a custom transmitter entering a few commands.

Coremi rose and stepped out of the narrow box. "Command accepted, initiating crowd suppression programming, awaiting targets."

He entered another sequence.

"Imperial soldiers, target locked." She replied and walked toward the nearest group. They all faced the mercenaries who were using a pile of crates as cover.

She stepped behind the nearest soldier, grasping his chin and twisting up and around. He fell with only a strangled scream to mark his passing. She picked up his blaster rifle, eliminating the next three Imperials with it.

A large soldier wielding a vibrosword ran toward her, his blade arcing above his head. She sped forward catching him under the elbow with her rifle before he could begin his downswing. Twisting deftly she threw him over her hip. She trained her rifle on him without pausing. He was dead before he hit the floor.

She picked up his sword and threw it at the next pair of soldiers. They dodged the frontal assault but were unprepared for the cyborg to call it back to her hand. The blade buzzed as it spun through the air cutting them down from behind. The last few soldiers panicked and the mercenaries eliminated them quickly.

The leader of the mercenaries, a zabraak woman, stepped forward and verified Goderas identity with an optical scanner. "Doctor Godera," she confirmed, "One moment, sir." She pulled out her com device.

"General Var Suthra," the woman held a tiny projection of one of the top commanders of Republic forces. "We have him, sir."

"Hello, old friend." Var Suthra turned to speak to the doctor directly. "I almost didn't believe it when we received your message."

"It's about time, you showed up." Godera scolded, "And sending mercenaries? Is the Republic faring so poorly? If I hadn't had help prepared, they'd all be dead."

"It's worse than you know, old friend. But I wouldn't be so sure they needed help." Var Suthra said. "Troops are in short supply, but General Garza saw clear to send me her finest."

"Commander Teoriya, Havoc Squad." The zabraak saluted with her free hand. She pointed her thumb at the men behind her. "They were setting up to stun the troops. We were under orders to take prisoners." She glanced at the carnage then at Coremi. The cyborg had not moved since the last soldier was defeated. "Guess we failed that objective." She did not seem sorry.

"Jorgan, Vik, send some distress signals then set the engines to overload. Sir," she said addressing the General. "We'll cover our trail and bring the doctor back to the fleet."

"Negative, bring the doctor directly to Corellia. General Garza wants you here as well." He turned back to Godera, "I hope that weapon of yours was worth the effort, we certainly need it."

All eyes turned to Coremi. Vector checked her for damage, nodding at the doctor when he found none. The few injuries she sustained had been closed and mended by her internal kolto systems. Godera smiled pleased at the first successful trial run. His control overrides had worked and her Force abilities were still active despite her modifications.

"Yes, if you're finally ready to do what's necessary."

"Always was, old friend, Var Suthra out."

Scourge spent several days alone on his ship attempting to master his renewed senses. His success was mixed. The centuries he spent studying the Force had taught him techniques that could control his physical pain. Distance from the Dark Heart cured his madness. But his heart ached, the loss of his hope nearly strangled him, and nothing he could do would cure that.

He returned to Dromund Kaas in secret, not wanting to reveal how vulnerable he was. He both dreaded and expected to find his rooms empty. They were not.

A Twi'lek slave poked around Coremi's room. She held up a small device a pendant that could display a picture of her mother. It was the one personal effect Coremi had kept. The Twi’lek activated it and the picture of a woman with Coremi’s face popped into view. Rage clouded Scourge's vision. He advanced on the Twi'lek lifting her off the ground in a Force choke. She struggled against his hold, kicking her legs, desperately trying to break free. The collar around her neck slipped revealing a pattern of burn marks both old and new. Coremi had scars just like them, his rage ebbed and he released her.

"What are you doing here? Who sent you?" He asked when she stopped gasping for air.

"No one sent me," the Twi'lek squeaked, "I was trying to find out who the woman, and the doctor, and the officer was, and what they had to do with Quinn, and where they were taking her, and why Quinn wasn't Quinn."

Scourge only managed to decipher half of her babble. He clapped his hand over her mouth.

“Why would you care about the transport of a dead woman?”

The Twi’lek cringed as he took his hand away. “She wasn’t dead.”

Scourge frowned, his orders had been clear. "Begin again." She opened her mouth. "Slowly," he warned. She nodded and recounted her story and what she had managed to discover.

Scourge held the projection of Coremi’s mother in his hands. He would not risk hope, not yet. It hurt so much more now.

"I summoned a particular slave today." Captain Quinn stood at the front desk of the Personnel Office in charge of non-military civillian workers and others. Others meaning slaves. He gestured at the female Twi'lek beside him. Her skin was a rich blue, her face was unscarred featuring high cheekbones and violet eyes. She was quite lovely, but not Vette. "This is not the Twi'lek I asked for."

The ensign looked at his request form. "Apologies, Captain. The slave you requested is deceased. Apparently, it angered a Sith Lord at the spaceport. We sent you an adequate replacement." She peered at Vette's holopicture, "This one's an upgrade, actually."

Quinn clenched his jaw pushing aside the twinge of guilt in favor of irritation at the assumption of why he wanted a Twi’lek slave. "I have no need for an alternate; return her to the labor pool."

"Right away, sir." The ensign saluted smartly and took charge of the Twi'lek. Quinn left the Personnel Office with his mind already set on his task. He was not surprised Vette would get herself killed with her mouth. He removed her from his weekly schedule, one less thing to worry about.

"Did you have to hit so hard?" Vette trotted to keep up with Lord Scourge while holding a kolto pack to the side of her face.

"If your childish insults were any indication of your acting skills, I could not trust you to make your demise convincing."

"I was being convincing, I mouth off but I never say anything really bad."

"Poopyhead?" Scourge grimaced at having repeated the word. She smothered a giggle with her hands. He shot her an angry glare, but made no move to harm her again.

He allowed her to use his credentials to arrange a meeting with someone she claimed could help them locate Doctor Godera. He suspected she was simply using him to escape Dromund Kaas, but did not care. If there was a chance Coremi was alive and this Twi'lek could help him find her, he would take it.

General Rakton finished debriefing the Lieutenant's team. They had taken the Bastion with zero casualties thanks to the Sith. He recognized the dangers of sheltering Baras’s former apprentice, but she was far too useful to throw away. Wasting resources was for Sith and Moffs not soldiers like him.

"Lieutenant," Rakton said when all but Pierce and Lord Ninka remained. "I have a request for a meeting from a Sith. He asked for you specifically. No other identifiers, but the clearance is Dark Council level."

"A request or a demand?" Pierce asked crossing his arms.

"All requests from Sith are demands." Rakton answered then bowed apologetically to Lord Ninka. "No offense intended, my lord."

"None taken, General." She sounded amused.

"As a side note," He said thoughtfully, "There were no orders for you to go alone." He bowed again to Lord Ninka and nodded to Pierce then took himself off.

"I'm going with you." Ninka said before Pierce could say anything. "If that Sith belongs to Baras I'll kill him."

"Fine by me, my lord." Pierce said grinning at her bloodthirsty expression. "But let's see if we can ask him some questions first."

The Sith waiting for them at an abandoned warehouse was not one Lord Ninka recognized. Had she seen him before, she would have remembered. He was taller than Pierce, broader, and even without trying she could sense his power in the Force.

"Lieutenant Pierce," the Sith greeted, "I understand it was your team that took the Bastion. Congratulations."

"Thank you, my lord." Pierce said quickly reaching the end of his capacity for polite conversation. "But that's not why you sent for me."

"No." He handed Pierce a datapad. "I understand you recovered some information about this man, Doctor Godera. He was a captured Republic scientist who managed to escape Dromund Kaas. He was presumed dead until your assault on the Bastion uncovered information regarding his whereabouts."

Pierce's team had located the scientist, but determined that his location was too secure for a frontal assault. He scanned the full dossier regarding the doctor's escape until he got to the name of the officer who escorted him off-planet, Captain Malavai Quinn. He passed the datapad silently to Lord Ninka and changed his stance slightly.

Ninka glanced at the pad then back at the Sith, "Who are you? Who sent you? Are you another one of Baras's apprentices." Her rage increased with each question. She drew her lightsaber. "Answer me, I will not ask again."

Scourge had sensed her mounting anger and took a defensive stance drawing his own saber the instant she went for hers. The sound of something heavy dropping from high above them onto a stack of crates surprised all three of them.

"My lord," Vette screeched and threw herself at Lord Ninka. She moved her saber aside in time to avoid impaling Vette. "You're alive."

"Vette, what are you doing here." Lord Ninka looked from Vette to the Sith.

"Quinn killed Broonmark on the ship then sent me to be a slave again then I think he killed Jaesa somehow and then I saw this doctor guy with this woman that the Sith over there knows and the guy who was with him was supposed to be Quinn, but he wasn't Quinn because he was actually kind of cute and had kind eyes and didn't have the whole air of jerkiness about him, and so I wanted to know what was going on so I looked at the records and broke into Lord Scourge's rooms but he caught me and I told him what I'm telling you now and we found out that the Doctor had died in an attack but he didn't because Pierce found him here but I didn't want to tell Pierce it was me because I wasn't sure if Pierce was with Baras or not and I'm supposed to be dead too." She glanced at Pierce guiltily, "Sorry."

"I'd be insulted if I understood half of what you just said." Pierce replied turning to Lord Scourge. "Lord Scourge, is it?" The Sith nodded. "Why not take this request to General Rakton, he has all the data and access you could need."

"Rakton's loyalties are bound to the chain of command. If I understand correctly, that chain is rapidly changing in Baras's favor. I had hopes that you would be willing to go against Baras if asked." He left it an open question.

"Might be." Pierce answered shifting his grip on his rifle. "Not sure what that has to do with this doctor though."

"We are not certain. We only know that he used this Captain Quinn's identity to escape." Scourge replied. "Whether he stole it or was given it by Baras we cannot determine, which is why I would prefer to find him without alerting High Command or the Dark Council."

Pierce glanced at Ninka for confirmation, she nodded. "The doctor's dug in, small building, bunker like complex." He pondered the data he had been sent by his recon team, "Ray shields, droid defenses, but no Jedi. Still it would take a sizeable force to take him and any large force'll get bogged down in there. A small team’s the best approach, but the last squad we sent got cut down before they could switch on their shoulder cams."

Lord Scourge nodded, "Droids and ray shields will prove no difficulty for me. I assume your friend wishes to stay with you, though I must warn that she is supposed to be dead."

"So am I," Lord Ninka said, "and we're coming with you." She continued before he could protest. "I have good reason to see any plot by Baras foiled. Whatever he has in there would be no match for me either." She smiled. "I'm not asking, my lord. Either we fight here, possibly alerting Baras, the Council, High Command and anyone else to our whereabouts or we go with you."

Scourge narrowed his eyes. He could always use forces to throw at whatever defenses the doctor maintained. "Fine, but the doctor must be taken alive for questioning."

"Doctor?" Vector interrupted the scientist's attempts to control the cyborg. They hid in the control center behind a ray-shield, sending remote commands to Coremi to take care of the intruders. She disabled the other three attackers without hesitation, but now when facing the final Sith, she simply stopped.

He watched through the monitor as the Sith approched, none of his commands could make her draw her weapon. The Sith hesitated, lowering his own weapon and said something the doctor could not hear. Coremi removed her helmet, the Sith charged forward, lifted her in his arms, and kissed her.

Vector watched the tableau with an expression bordering on amusement. "That was not what we were expecting."

Scourge put Coremi down. He searched her eyes for a trace of recognition. She only blinked and stared straight forward.

"If that's what you were building her for, you used the wrong programming." A voice called. Doctor Godera appeared behind the green glow of the ray-shield that protected the inner most part of the bunker.

"What did you do to her?" Scourge demanded, facing the doctor and another man. The man matched the description of the officer who aided Godera's escape, except his eyes were the inky black of a killik joiner.

"What did I do?" Godera snapped, "When we found her she was a floating vegetable. I salvaged the wreck someone created when they mucked about with a live subject without proper testing."

"It was her experiment." Scourge growled, irrationally feeling the need to defend himself. "I could not dissuade her from it."

"Doesn't make her a better scientist." Godera sniffed. Scourge suppressed the urge to kill him. It might have been what he was hoping, Scourge doubted the man would wish to return to Dromund Kaas.

"Is she still in there? Can you bring her back?"

"I have no interest in handing the Sith a weapon as powerful as she would be when she's fully operational."

"Then you are of no use to me." Scourge replied and raised his hand. The ray shield was no protection from the Force.

Doctor Godera held up a remote and pressed a single button. Coremi collapsed. Scourge caught her, lowering her to the ground. She twitched in his arms, struggling to breathe on her own.

"A fail safe." Godera said calmly, "I just hoped I would never have to use it.”

"Bring her back." Scourge demanded. When the doctor remained impassive he laid her gently on the floor and stood. He stalked to the energy barrier until he faced the doctor. "Stop this or I will personally kill everything you ever loved, then I will allow the Emperor to destroy this galaxy and everything in it including the Force. I swear it."

"Doctor," Vector said softly, "He is quite serious. What's more, from his aura, I do not believe he is lying about the last part."

Godera pushed the switch. Coremi gasped as her lungs began working again, her eyes were bloodshot and her breath rasped but after a moment of labored breathing, she recovered rapidly as she was constructed to do. Soon she stood as if nothing happened. "Explain, Sith."

"Yes, Sith." Lord Ninka said limping toward them supported between Pierce and Vette. "Explain."

Scourge scanned the room. "How secure is this place?"

"Since you wrecked the security," Godera said wryly, "Not very. But if you're talking about surveillance, transmissions don't work down here."

Scourge nodded and told them his story. About the ritual that made Vitiate immortal, about his discovery of the Emperor's plans, about his vision of the one who could defeat him. He told them that Coremi was the one he saw in his vision, leaving out what he felt were unnecessary details. At the end of his tale they all looked at Coremi.

"So the Emperor plans to destroy everything, and she's the one you believe can stop him." Lord Ninka approached the cyborg and waved a hand in front of her face. "I've seen her before," She said remembering their encounter on Tatooine. "It seems a lifetime ago." She spoke softly almost regretfully, then shook her head. "She was cuter back then." She met Scourge's glare with her own. "If your story is true then what's stopping him?"

"Baras has been planning this moment for more than a decade. He plans make claims to be the Emperor's True Voice, but in order to do so he had to silence the real Voice. He found a way to trap him on Voss, where he remains, bound by the entity called Sel Makor. "

"If that's the case, then maybe we should give Baras a medal." Ninka muttered.

"Indeed, Baras has saved us temporarily, though he knows it not. The entity claimed it could hold him forever, but the Emperor's powers are vast, greater than even the entity could understand. If it fails we will still need her." He glanced at Coremi, she had not moved, nor did she register any part of the conversation.

"What now then and what's stopping Baras from making his claims?"

"I am." Scourge replied. "As the Emperor's Wrath he would need my cooperation, for no one has known the Emperor longer than I."

"I take it he tried to kill you." Lord Ninka seemed amused. "He's really not one to negotiate."

"Compromise was never a part of his plans. As long as I live, he cannot claim the Empire, as long as he lives someone else may discover where the Emperor is being held."

"So we kill him?" Lord Ninka brightened at that.

"Yes."

Doctor Godera had been silent while Scourge told his story. He recognized the truth when he heard it. "Well, as long as we're killing Sith, I suppose I can help."

Tala-Reh helped the wounded Mystic, Valen-Da, travel the last steps to the chamber where a dark unnatural pit waited. He and his entourage had fought to bring her here, he would not tell her why. "It is time Tala-Reh. I will tell you now why we have come. I dreamed of the Dark Heart. Secrets revealed. The core is alive. Intelligent. A being of pure evil. Will without a body. Sel Makor." He gazed into the pit dark tendrils of energy floated out of the gaping maw. "Unchecked, corruption will spread beyond the Nightmare Lands. Sel-Makor must be destroyed. If not. Voss will be consumed. Only you can destroy Sel-Makor."

At his words the air around the pit changed, the tunnel moaned and the ground shook slightly, a voice emerged. "Fool. Sel-Makor is death. Darkness. No Voss can destroy."

The Mystic stared into the pit as if mesmerized by the dark energies. Tala-Reh touched his shoulder, "Honored One, tell me what I must do."

"Descend the steps into the maw of Sel-Makor. Confront the evil within. Destroy it. Cleanse Voss. You will not survive. Sacrifice will herald a millennium of peace between Voss and Gormak. Thus is my vision fulfilled."

"No! Violation. Defilement. Extinction. This must not be!" The voice from the pit was produced by anything of flesh and blood, but still it trembled. Tala-Reh's heart was calm, a Mystic's vision was never wrong, for whatever reason, the creature in the Dark Heart feared her.

She descended the steps to face her destiny, a vision was never wrong.

In another chamber of the Dark Heart deep within the Nightmare Lands a lone Voss fell to his knees. The dark power that had sustained him for countless days and nights was no longer. His frail form could not rise, he had taken no nourishment since his capture, nor had he slept, only the entity's will had kept him alive. He rested his head against the cold surface of the stone floor, waiting for death, and smiled. He was free.

Quinn's feet kicked in the air uselessly, his vision waivered as capillaries broke and he began to run out of air. It was a wonder his neck was not broken, but Baras was not letting him go that easily.

"Did you betray me, Quinn?" An investigation by Sith Intelligence involving an officer smuggling a high value scientist off planet revealed a series of purchases by the Captain. One of which was for a poison responsible for the death of Baras's coveted apprentice Jaesa. "How long did you think you could deceive me. Did you think I would never find out that you directly went against my orders?"

Baras released his Force-grip and Quinn fell to the floor. He shoved backwards with his feet and elbows, though he knew trying to escape was useless. His hair stood on end and even a Force-blind could feel the power collecting around the Darth. An alarm sounded, distracting Darth Baras, Quinn listened intently to the security reports being fed through his earpiece. A Sith with a familiar description was attacking Baras's stronghold.

Quinn made a short laugh though it lacked humor, he stared up at the Darth's mask, "Which time?" he asked. The air around him heated and a sharp pain accompanied by a scream of rage was the last thing he sensed before darkness took him.

Blaster fire, shouts of pain, the sound of lightsabers clashing against each other, a familiar voice. "How's he doing?" Coarse, blunt, gravely, Pierce.

"Still alive," another familiar voice, higher, annoying, Vette. Vette was supposed to be dead. Vette was obviously not dead. Imperial personnel really needed to be more careful accounting for their slaves. Quinn wondered if the Twi'lek would kill him personally, or had Pierce reserved the right.

"Keep him that way." Pierce muttered gruffly. "Lord Ninka wants to have a word with him." Quinn shivered, but not from cold or his injuries, the one person he never wanted to face again. He tried to speak but only managed an unintelligible moan.

"We can't stay here."

"Stabilize him so we can move and we'll fall back."

Quinn felt himself being lifted, he fought to stay conscious but the movement sent pain screaming through him and he blacked out again.

"Vette," someone shouted above him, Quinn woke and found himself being placed against a wall. "Don't try to move," Pierce said unnecessarily. Only an idiot would move while blind and only half conscious, he thought resentfully. A moment later Pierce dragged someone else next to him.

"How bad is it," Vette asked. She had never liked looking at her own injuries, for someone so adept at killing she was unreasonably squeamish.

"You can't walk on that and I can't carry two. Well I can, but I can't carry two and cover our exit." The low rumble of his voice paused, Quinn waited for Pierce to suggest leaving him. "We can defend this point till it's over."

Vette did not answer right away, Quinn got the impression they were both looking at him. "Yeah, we'll stay here. Help me up a bit, I can still shoot." He heard some shuffling and Vette whimpered a few times. Footsteps in the distance drew closer and blaster fire erupted all around him. The onslaught lasted several minutes, punctuated by the sound of men dying. Quinn attempted to keep track of the battle, a pause in the fire from the other side, the metallic clank of something bouncing against concrete, followed by the unmistakable high pitched whine of an explosive charging. He covered his head with his arms, a futile gesture.

"Take cover," Pierce shouted. Quinn felt the Twi'lek land somewhere on his midsection sending his nerves screaming compounded by the even greater weight of Pierce covering them both. Moments later, the concussive force of the grenade left a persistent ringing in his ears and nothing else.

Blind, deaf, and in agony, now when the darkness took him it was a relief.

The sickly sweet smell was familiar, as a medic he worked with kolto all the time, but he had not been immersed in it since Tatooine.

Lord Ninka had saved his life at the risk of the mission to learn more about Jaesa. She had carried him to the nearest Imperial outpost and bullied several members of the Reclamation Service and a high ranking Darth into saving him. She personally obtained supplies to supplement the meager accommodations of the research bunker then ransacked Master Yonlach's hut to find any evidence of their elusive Jedi quarry so that he would not have to report failure to Baras.

He told Baras everything, it was then that the Sith told him to get close to his apprentice. It was obvious her feelings for him could be manipulated to their advantage, and manipulate them he did. The thought of the last time he had been near death brought his thoughts to the present. He was alive, but that was all he could determine.

"Quinn, can you hear me?" Lord Ninka's voice was carried to his ears through the headset on his breathing apparatus.

He tried to speak. His voice was weak but serviceable. "Yes, my lord."

"Your master is dead," she said bluntly. The words stung, Lord Ninka's voice could be gentle as silk, but she only used that tone among those close to her. To everyone else her voice was harsh, her choice of words almost brutish, and a touch too loud for easy conversation.

He waited for her to say more, but she said nothing. He began to wonder if she had left. "May I ask why I am not?"

"I'll admit, had you fought on Baras's side at the time I'd have killed you. But when I saw you lying there, I couldn't let it end like that." Her voice was even harsher when she spoke again, "We were only able to save one of your eyes and you won't be able to use it for some time. You'll have to get a replacement for the other and the scarring will be extensive."

He nodded, grateful to know he would not be completely blind. He could evaluate his other losses later. "You ordered Pierce and Vette to save me." He said, "How are they?"

"Pierce is fine, only upset that you're still alive, but otherwise intact. Vette is not so lucky. We're hoping to save her leg, but the prognosis isn't good."

He had never liked the Twi'lek but she had taken grave injuries to save him despite his previous threats and treatment of her. "I don't know what to say, my lord. I know you cannot trust me, and at the moment I am fit for little but floating in this tank, but if there is anything I can do…"

"Oh but there is, Captain," Ninka interrupted, her voice was different, less harsh but somehow a touch malicious, but he had not missed the title.

"Captain, my lord?"

"Yes, I am allowing you to keep your rank and position, because I have a task for you."

"Anything you ask, my lord. If it is in my power."

"Vette will be long in recovering, as will you, but she does not have full status in the Empire, and I worry that she will not be treated as well as she deserves."

"Yes," he said slowly, "I can see that would be a problem, the best care facilities are for military personnel."

"But a captain can see that she is treated well and receives the care she needs."

Quinn was pleased he could discharge his debt to Vette while recovering. It would be efficient use of his time. "I would be honored."

"And she's bored," now Ninka's voice had an edge of laughter to it.

"What?"

"Hi, Quinn, we're going to be tank buddies." Vette said in his ear. "I'm in the tank next to yours, you've been sleeping a long time and everyone's busy getting ready for another fight because that's all Sith seem to do. So the Doctor Godera guy hooked our tanks up so we can chat while we're on our way to the medical facility. Probably there too."

"M-my lord?" Quinn asked, alarmed now.

"You will keep Vette company at the facility and here while you both recover."

"Y-yes, my lord. I understand. It," he paused searching for the right words, "it's the least I can do."

"Excellent," Vette enthused, "What shall we talk about. I know, let's play a game, Two Truths and a Lie."

"Vette," Ninka said, this time he was certain she was holding back laughter, "The Captain is not ready for that yet, I only had the doctor wake him up so that he knows what's going on. You'll be able to talk to him later."

"Okay, okay," Vette said drily, "I'll let him get some beauty rest, he certainly needs it."

"Thank you, my lord." Quinn said sincerely.

"Get some rest, Quinn," Her voice was softer, his heart skipped, "I'll see you and Vette when all of this is done."

He felt the sedatives take effect and as the darkness claimed him, he smiled.

Doctor Godera had done what he could to restore Coremi's consciousness, but there was no change. Everything that kept her alive was controlled by a program and his voice alone could override any of it. Exactly as she had planned, not at all what he wanted.

Scourge had watched her with half of his attention during their attack on Baras's stronghold. Her form was perfect, textbook perfect. Each motion precise, executed at exactly the right moment, but it had nothing of grace, it was programming, nothing more, and when her foes were defeated she returned quietly to his side. She did not look to him for approval as she once did, she did not look at him at all.

Vector cleaned the joins between Coremi's armor, demonstrating how to detach the reinforced durasteel from the cortosis weave skin grafts that covered most of her body.

"She is programmed to care for herself, but you will need to keep the joins behind her knees and shoulder blades well oiled. They are not places she can reach herself and they tend to lock up after heavy use."

"Like a droid." Scourge scowled.

Scourge had made nothing but disparaging comments about her status as a cyborg, but Vector was not fooled. He could see the Sith’s dark blue almost black aura, it twisted and writhed around him, revealing a pain and grief so profound Vector was amazed that his face showed no sign of it.

"She is a Cyborg now," Vector reminded him gently, "But she is not a droid. She is still herself."

"She obeys every command without argument, exactly and no more. She is nothing like herself."

Vectors midnight eyes fixed on Lord Scourge. "The hive remembers every moment of every life of every joiner, even up to the moment of death. We remember aging and illness and injury; trances and comas and brain death. Believe us when we tell you that while she may not be the woman she once was she is no mere machine."

He debated whether to continue, "She dreams." He said finally, and held up his hand to stave off interruption. "When we found her, we could see that she dreamt. Her dreams were of ice and void. She dreamt of nothing and her song was somber." The muscles on Scourge's jaw twitched. "After Doctor Godera activated her programming, the dreams were different. Now she walks in her sleep and dreams of waking. Her song too has changed." Scourge fixed Vector with his crimson gaze, his aura crackled with red lightning. "When she sees you, her song is joyful." The joiner completed his maintenance and put away the supplies leaving them alone.

Scourge crossed the tiny room to stand before the idle cyborg, reaching out to touch her face. It was the only part of her untouched by the doctor's 'improvements,' it was still the face from his vision. "Can you hear me?" She stared back at him, but her eyes never really focused on his. He pulled her against his chest. Her body no longer melded against his as it once had, her altered frame was as hard and unyielding as the armor he wore. He pressed his lips against her ear, "Please, wake up," he whispered. He released her and fled.

Coremi stood alone in the room. "Command accepted." She replied.

"Lord Scourge," Servant One greeted.

"One." Scourge replied.

"I see you have recovered from your failed mission to Voss, if rumors are to be believed."

"Rumors."

"Rumors that you led an assault against Darth Baras of the Council."

"I discovered that he was the one who sent an assassin against me." Scourge answered.

"I see, were you able to discover his plans? One does not make such a direct assault on the Emperor's Wrath without reason."

"He planned to assume the Emperor's place in his absence."

Servant one seemed unsurprised. "Yes, his absence," He stroked his chin. "Speaking of which, we require your presence at the Dark Temple. We believe there may be a ritual that will help us to locate our Lord Emperor."

"I understand." Scourge replied, "I will arrive within a day." He shut off the com.

"Think he suspects something?" Pierce asked from the doorway. He and Lord Ninka had listened to the conversation out of sight of Servant One.

"Yes. He has since I returned from Voss and Servant Two maintained his insistence that the Emperor was there." He stared in the direction of the room that held his battered hope then turned back to Lord Ninka. "Regardless, I must go. Perhaps I can find a way to disrupt the ritual, at the very least I will know if they locate him. If anything occurs while I am gone I leave it to your judgment whether or not to use her, but she must survive. You all know what is at stake." He left without waiting for them to acknowledge his orders.

The journey through the jungle was not as arduous as he remembered it centuries before, speeder paths cut through what was once nothing but jungle. As his speeder approached the ancient structure, he could feel the power that slept within its walls. He passed several members of the Imperial Royal Guard one of them directed him to a chamber up a spiraling stairway.

He sensed the Guard filing in behind him. Not unusual, they always guarded the most important rituals against interruption, but he was keenly aware that there would be no turning back for him. He entered the ritual chamber, a circular room supported by stone pillars, a platform rose in the center surmounted by a throne, Servant One stood at the bottom of the stairs leading up to it.

Scourge could not stop the swell of fear as he recognized the malevolent presence in the room. It was not power summoned by a ritual, but a man Scourge had not seen in centuries. The Emperor in his true form watched him through void black eyes.

"Wrath," he intoned in the same monotonous voice. Scourge did not bother with pleasantries or lies, instead he focused his will into a single defense of his mind. The Emperor sensed his preparations and smiled. "As you can see, I am free of the entity, Sel-Makor. At first I thought it was you who had found a way to free me, despite your apparent weakness. However, Servant One tells me that you did not inform them of my whereabouts."

Scourge stood silently, he could only brace himself for what was to come.

"I sense your fear. You’ve somehow to regained your senses. Tell me,” he chuckled without humor. “Does it hurt?"

Scourge fought down the bile that crept its way up his throat. The pain of his curse had not returned fully, but it was with him, a constant reminder, and the Emperor knew. The mere thought seemed to increase it, he clenched his fists his nails bit into his skin, a small distraction but he maintained his control. "Yes," he answered finally and before he could blink the Emperor stood before him.

"Not yet." The Sith hissed. The pain of his curse intensified as his nerves were set aflame. He fought to breath, completely paralyzed in the Emperor's grasp. After minutes that stretched for eternity the Emperor released him and he fell to the floor gasping for air.

"Your strength has built these past centuries; it would be a waste to kill you when you could still be of use. However, before I take your mind and show you true obedience; let us explore these rediscovered feelings of yours."

This time whatever the Emperor did he left Scourge just enough freedom to scream. The pain could not be fought only endured. He lost track of time and reality, until the only thing that assured him that he lived was the pain itself. Through it all, he held on to the one thing he left to him, his hope. When the pain finally ended, his body moved to the Emperor’s will, but that small piece of his mind was still his own. He held.

"Scourge," Coremi screamed as a vision of the Sith writhing in agony filled her mind. The vision faded replaced by the face of a young man she did not recognize.

"Doctor," the man called out. He held up his hand but did not attempt to restrain her. "Coremi, we are Vector Hyllus, friends of Lord Scourge. You are safe."

She stared in confusion for only a moment before her vision came roaring back. "Scourge, is dying. I saw it. I saw him and the Emperor." She stumbled out the door into the corridor and crashed into the wall as her legs carried her more quickly than she was accustomed. She looked down at her body for the first time. The few patches of skin she retained were hidden by armor that bolted into her skin grafts. Her eyes widened and she her breath came out in short whimpers.

A large Imperial soldier and a Sith appeared in front of her. She drew her lightsaber.

"Stand down," Lord Scourge's voice whispered in her ear.

"Standing down." She replied deactivating the saber without thinking. "Scourge?" She called out, spinning frantically looking for the source of the voice. Instead she saw an older man holding a datapad.

"Coremi," the doctor said calmly, "My name is Nasan Godera. We're at the spaceport on Dromund Kaas, you are safe here." She whipped her head around to stare at Lord Ninka and Pierce, backing away from them while trying to keep everyone else within view.

"Coremi, listen." Godera continued. "I know about your experiment, the final commands failed to revive you. The modifications made to your body were necessary to reactivate you." She glanced down at herself then back up at him. Tears leaked from her eyes.

"You did this to me?"

"I did, but the programming was your designs if I understand correctly. Lord Scourge explained why it was necessary."

"Scourge?" She called again. She looked around, "I saw him and the Emperor, where is he?"

"He was called to the Dark Temple, they are attempting to locate the Emperor. Lord Scourge informed us that the Emperor is trapped now and he cannot harm anyone."

"No, I saw them." She insisted, "I have to go to him." She headed blindly for the exit.

"Stop her," Ninka ordered, Pierce immediately moved to intercept her, but she tossed him aside with a flick of her wrist and a wave of Force. He crashed into a wall.

"If you're wrong, you could get him killed." Pierce called out. She paused with her hand on the exit hatch. "And if you're right, what are you going to do? The Emperor's not sitting by himself torturing your Sith. Stop and think." Every instinct screamed for her to get to the Temple, she shook her head and reached for the hatch. Pierce charged her knocking her aside. They tumbled into the next room.

"We don't have time for this," Godera muttered.

"Activate tactical protocols." Lord Scourge said from behind her.

"Tactical protocols engaged." She said calmly and held Pierce pinned. A luminescent display overlapped her vision showing her the fighting capabilities of each of the four people in front of her and their weaponry.

Her thoughts turned to Scourge, she hear herself speak. "Tactical assessment, Lord Scourge. Last known location Dark Temple, status unknown. Dark Temple assault assessment, layout unknown, security unknown, possible enemy combatants unknown. Unable to complete tactical assessment, more data required." She looked at the group in confusion.

"Gathering data should not be difficult," Vector said into the silence and moved to the bridge, Coremi's tactical display indicated she should follow.

After several failed attempts Vector was finally able to locate someone on Voss willing to speak with him.

"Vector?" The dark haired woman Vector had called Anora asked tentatively. "Vector, how are you, I heard about what happened after you returned to Dromund Kaas. I'm so sorry, I thought they could help you."

"Anora," Vector paused concentrating very hard, "I am well. Better than ever, actually. But, that is not why I called. I need your help. I need to know if anything strange has happened on Voss. Little news has come from the planet."

"Yes," She seemed surprised. "Something has happened, several days ago. All of the Sith say they felt a change in the Force. Then some of the groups we lost in the Nightmare Lands found their way back to our camps. Many of them are still damaged but they claim they stopped hearing the voice that drove them insane." She lowered her voice to a bare whisper and looked around to make sure no one watched, "Darth Serevin has kept all word of this from getting back to the Dark Council. This is a disaster for him politically. The Sith won't tell us anything, but I spoke to a Jedi. They say the Nightmare Lands are no longer a source of darkness, that they've been cleansed by one of the Mystics." She straightened and resumed her normal volume. "I have to go." She looked as if she wanted to say more but stopped.

"Thank you, Anora," Vector said smiling genuinely, "Take care of yourself."

"And you, Vector." She replied softly and the projection winked out.

"Heads up," Pierce called as he emerged from the bridge, "Bunch of red uniforms heading this way, spotted them on the spaceport security feed. Imperial guard."

"Fire up the engines," Coremi said looking up from the datapad she had been studying, maps of the Dark Temple. "We're getting out of here."

Pierce chose not to argue. They all moved to the bridge where he started the preflight sequence.

"They'll shoot us down, you know." Ninka warned.

"They expect us to try to leave the planet, but we're not going up." Coremi took the flight controls and began a swift takeoff, as soon as she was high enough she sped forward barely clearing the trees. "We'll land at the Temple."

"Then what?" Pierce asked.

"I'll save him." She replied.

"Him," Pierce growled, "Not to be selfish, but if I understand the situation, you need to be saving all of us."

"Him first." She said stubbornly as they sped over the jungle.

"Activate primary objective." Lord Scourge said into her ear.

"Primary objective active, assassinate the Sith Emperor." She replied. She looked around carefully this time, her tactical display analyzing according to her thoughts. Her golden eyes fixed on Doctor Godera and the device in his hands. "Is that thing controlling me?" She demanded.

"It is." Godera said unapologetically. "But that was his programming. This is your purpose, this is what he would have wanted you to do."

Her jaw clenched, but instead of arguing she asked, "What else can you program me to do?"

"What-"

"What else?" She snapped, "Give me every advantage I can get going in there. Make me stronger or faster or whatever this abominable body is supposed to be capable of so I can finish this and save him."

He pursed his lips but entered a sequence into the device. Scourge's voice whispered commands into her ear.

"Commands confirmed." She said after reciting them. "What about the Force enhancers?"

Godera frowned, "The Sith never mentioned that."

She narrowed her eyes, "Are there any other controllers?" She asked.

"No."

"Are there plans lying around for making another one?"

His keen eyes read her expression. "The Republic has the general plans for creating more soldiers like yourself, but only you needed this particular kind of control because of your original implementation. No one else can make this device." Vector started to interject, but the doctor waved him off. He raised his chin, "It’s alright, Vector. I have no regrets."

“Good.” She clenched her fist and broke the device and the doctor's neck at the same time. "Now nothing can stop me," she focused on the flight controls as the Dark Temple came within view.

Vector stayed with the ship. Lord Ninka and Pierce accompanied Coremi to help clear the way to the Emperor.

They reached a shielded corridor protected by several red clad guardsmen. Imperial Guardsmen, while not Force sensitive, were highly trained, the best fighters in the Empire. They were no match for Coremi's enhanced form or Lord Ninka's skill.

Coremi's cybernetics analyzed the shield circuitry, grimacing at the instructions on her display. She tugged at her left little finger. It came off revealing a universal data jack. She plugged into the dataport and her cybernetics commenced slicing the circuit.

"Handy," Pierce deadpanned as they waited for the shield to come down.

"I'll kill you." Coremi muttered, but the corner of her mouth twitched. Lord Ninka bit her lip and looked away.

The shield fell.

"I can sense them above us. Try to draw off the reinforcements, do not enter the chamber." She hurried up the stairs to the ritual chamber.

Coremi entered the chamber quietly, the was Emperor waiting, she sensed his amusement.

"My Wrath's Apprentice." His voice was the same but his body was different, withered, frail, yet somehow more powerful than his previous incarnation. "I watched your assault on my temple, impressive. I should thank my Wrath for building such a deadly weapon. Now his pawn will become mine, you will rain death upon countless worlds, with your strength I will Ascend."

Coremi felt the Emperor's presence in her mind. It commanded her to put away her weapon, it urged her to kneel. It had no effect.

Amusement turned to surprise, she smiled and charged. A wall of Force batted her away, she flipped in the air and landed on her feet. She charged again, catching the lightning he sent on her blade and throwing it back followed by her own wave of Force. His surprise turned to anger as she continued to charge him, his attacks had little effect on her unnatural body, and his powers had no effect on her mind.

Her heart leaped with hope, but it was dashed in the next moment. "You wish to fight me, very well, but first you must fight someone else." Lord Scourge emerged from the shadows behind the throne and stood between them. “Forced to kill his own weapon or killed by his own weapon, I only wish he had enough of his mind to witness it.”

He called to his guards. He would escape and complete his plans another day, he had all the time he needed. The Emperor laughed as the Guardsmen escorted him from the room.

Coremi pursued but Scourge blocked her way, his eyes held no recognition. She pushed him away but he recovered quickly, attacking without reservation, attacking to kill.

Their blades locked, "Scourge, wake up." She pleaded. "He's getting away, please wake up."

His lips moved, "Kill me." He whispered.

“Command accepted.” She replied. "Scourge?" she panicked as her arms no longer followed her orders. She attacked him unable to hold back, he defended until their blades locked again.

He struggled to speak, his eyes focused, "It’s the only way. Kill me and fulfill your destiny." He kicked her viciously still unable to control his own body. She rolled to the side and leaped upward the force of her attack disarmed him. She forced her hands to drop her lightsaber, they went for his neck instead.

She concentrated on not crushing his throat as they grappled. "Please," she begged, crying, "Please don't make me. There has to be another way. Scourge, think of something, please." His hand wrapped around her neck.

"Kill me," he repeated clenching his jaw as he struggled with himself, "Kill… everyone. Embed Force limit break commands, destroy the Temple."

"Force limit break commands embedded. Destroying the Temple." She whispered. She felt the new programming take effect and a dam inside her burst. Her head snapped back and she screamed as raw power poured from her lips. The ground beneath the Temple shook as she shattered its foundations and pulled the very core of the planet upward searching for a single target.

The Emperor and his entourage felt the surge of power as they ran through secret tunnels to their escape shuttle. The Guardsman surrounded him in a protective shield of bodies, ready to absorb the impending attack, but nothing could protect him from the lava that burst through the walls of the ancient passageway and drowned him in molten rock.

"The Temple is collapsing," Vector sent over the com. "Hurry, you must leave now."

Ninka and Pierce ran toward the exit. The temple was sinking, one of the clerestory windows was now a small doorway. Pierce pushed Ninka in front of him not wanting to block her way if he got stuck then dove after her as the floor beneath him collapsed. They ran until the ground steadied beneath them. When they turned only the very top of the Temple remained, the rest was buried, reclaimed by the planet.

Pierce stared at the ruin. He doubted anyone could have survived that.

The chamber was growing warmer. The liquid rock Coremi summoned would reach them soon. Scourge dragged himself to where her body lay unmoving, her legs twisted beneath her. He touched her face.

Her arm shot up to grasp his throat but there was no strength in it. "Stand down." He whispered and she released him.

"Is it you?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered, "The Emperor is gone, I no longer sense his presence in my thoughts or anywhere else." He smiled, “Well done.”

“Good,” she whispered and her eyes drifted closed. His chest ached at the sight.

"Not yet." He urged. "We can still find a way out. Get up."

Her eyes opened and she pushed herself up. The power she channeled had shattered her body beyond what her cybernetics could repair. She whimpered helplessly as she tried to stand on broken legs and failed.

"Stop." He commanded and she did, collapsing but waiting for his next order. She would always be waiting for his next order.

She smiled knowingly at his expression, "I said I was yours. I have no regrets."

"None?" he asked.

She wheezed a chuckle, "Well maybe some." She fell silent, Scourge listened to her breathe. "Scourge?"

"Yes?"

She hesitated, "Would you pretend?"

His throat closed, but he gathered her into his arms and kissed her, “I don't need to."

She smiled and he kissed her again, memorizing the softness of her lips and the taste of her skin.

She shivered despite the rising heat in the room. "I'm scared."

"There is nothing to fear." He cradled her in his arms doing his best to make her comfortable though every breath pained her. "The galaxy is safe, the Force will live on." He cupped her cheek brushing away her tears. "The war is over. You can stop fighting now."

She met his eyes and gave him one last brilliant smile, "Thank you." She sighed and was still.

Lord Scourge watched the soldiers attack the small pocket of resistance. He wore a plain dark hooded robe to hide his presence. He was not officially part of the Empire's assault. Instinct had prompted him to join the battle and where the Imperial forces might not have been enough, he cut down the so called rebels with ease.

A lone pair of fighters remained. A man and woman both determined. They lay down fire from behind the cover of the makeshift barricades, but they were arguing about something. Finally the man shoved the woman toward their escape route.

She hesitated a moment before running, and as Scourge watched her turn a vision seized him. It held him paralyzed, blinding him to reality, as it showed him hundreds of images too fast for him to understand. A single image came into focus, the Jedi, the woman he had seen centuries before, only now she lay broken, dying in his arms. With it came a sense of pain and loss so overwhelming it could only mean that they had failed.

He knew now why his instinct had brought him to Balmorra. Through the haze of his premonition he saw the woman sprinting away and he knew what he must do. He reached with the Force, grasping the woman with an invisible hand of power and threw her back against the barricade. She got up again but slowly. Realizing she could not run, the pair backed into a small building.

"Do not let them escape." He commanded. He walked away with the vision of the dying Jedi still burned in his mind. The squad closed in on the building. Moments later, the ground shook, rocked by an explosion that leveled the building and all of the surrounding soldiers.

The vision freed him and the image of the dying Jedi faded, replaced once again with her triumph. Satisfied, he made his way back to the shuttle port. He would return to the Emperor's fortress, his master none the wiser. There would be no witnesses or records of his presence on Balmorra.

He held the picture of her face in his mind, the only source of hope left to him, then let her go lest his master sense it. How many live had he destroyed to preserve his vision? He had long ago lost count.

"Farewell, for now." He whispered.

Nalenne sprinted through the twisting corridors of the Dark Temple, almost tripping in her headlong rush. “Nis!” She reached a landing, looked uncertainly up and down, plunged into the murk of the lower stair. “Niselle!” she howled.

A colder voice filled the stairwell. “Lenny, shut up!”

“You have got to see this!” bellowed Nalenne.

“I’m busy!” shrieked Niselle.

A couple of hoarse masculine yells sounded; then a lightsaber’s zipping motion, then nothing.

Nalenne stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Nis?” Her voice rang down the two-way corridor in a decidedly unsettling way. “I’m serious, this is fantastic.”

“Go away.”

“I got this ancient artifact that belonged to Khem’s ex–”

“Shut up! When I fix this Ravager, the first person I’m using it on is you.”

“And I found an old ancestor of ours! He’s all ghostly and everything!”

More lightsaber noises. “I’m busy!”

Nalenne gave up on pinpointing the source of the din. “He’s named Lord Kallig! He’s a bit hung up on the glory days–”

“Nalenne! Would you shut! Up! For five! Seconds!”

“Fine,” Nalenne yelled back. “But if he’s granting ultimate power I’m keeping it all.” She stomped back up the stairs, ready to claim her artifact and go home. If the thing was followed by betrayal like Kallig said, maybe Zash would let Nalenne gift it at Life Day.

In prime universe Niselle would never share this sort of thing with Nalenne. But Nalenne likes sharing with her sister...with a certain level of inevitable betrayal between the two.

Tauntauns couldn’t break down, could they? Vette was sure the answer was “No” as they were living creatures. Well, not this one. It was broken. So broken it was dead. Just her luck that credit pincher Quinn would insist on taking just the one Tauntaun and wound up breaking it. Or maybe he blathered at it until it died. Either way, this Tauntaun was dead and they were stranded on a sea of ice and snow, with a very angry wind icing their heels. She shivered and rubbed her arms as she hopped from foot to foot. The ever prepared Captain B*stard was setting up the tent, but, if she had the tools, she would have cut open the broken Tauntaun and nestled inside until the damn tent was up. When the damn tent was up he disappeared inside it without signaling for her to come in. Bastard.

She made her way to the tent and quickly ducked inside, zipping it up as tightly as she could against the wind. The wind, spurned for the last time, whipped and beat at the housing, throwing shards of ice in an attempt to break it down. Its attacks were futile, at least.

Inside the tent, Quinn was busy setting up the thermal blankets and starting a small heat source that gave off no smoke or deadly vapors. It was enough for a few of hours, no more than six, but that wouldn’t be an issue provided they were rescued in a timely manner. Vette was both hopeful and realistic. She didn’t like their odds.

“You’re good at karking up simple things, you know that?” Vette groused as she claimed a sleeping bag and stuffed it in-between the thermal blankets on the floor of the tent.

“I didn’t anticipate the death of our transportation, but I prepared for it regardless,” he replied stiffly. He, too, busied himself with a sleeping bag.

“Ugh,” she sighed. “Can we not sleep so close together?”

“We are not sleeping, we are waiting for rescue and staying warm. Now stop wasting your energy chattering and get comfortable before you freeze to death.”

She grumbled something and settled into her sleeping bag. “Were you able to raise anyone on the comm?”

“I’m trying,” he replied. He settled into his own sleeping bag then sealed the thermal layers around their respective bags. He set the comm unit in front of him and continued to try to raise the nearest base. “I’m encountering massive amounts of interference from the wind outside. I can only assume a storm is coming.”

“We’re karked.”

“We aren’t dead yet.”

“Why the hell did Syla send us here anyway?”

“To prepare for Ilum as I have told you every step of the way,” he replied, shaking his head slightly.

“After this, I want to go to Alderaan. It’s nice and temperate there.”

“We’re going to Ilum after this. I’m sure the chill will still be in our bones. We’ll be fine.”

“If we don’t die.”

“We’re not going to die.”

“We’re going to freeze to death and no one will find our bodies.”

“Be silent, Vette.”

“I hate you, Quinn.”

“Hate me in silence.”

For once, she listened to him. There was no sense in wasting all the energy on talking to him, telling him how much of a useless doof he was or how frozen they would be before help arrived. Best to conserve her energy for something more important, like freezing to death or shivering or freezing to death while shivering. Stars it was cold on Hoth. The wind howled outside and beat the tent with a vengeance that would be fiery were it not cold enough to turn breath still in the lungs to ice. She tried to think of anything that would help her stay warm: hot cocoa, hot toddy, hot body. Mm, hot body. She glowered at Quinn. Not even if she were desperate to get warm.

Two hours later, Quinn managed to raise someone on the comm and send their location. It could take six hours for rescue possibly longer if the weather insisted on being a right bastard.

“Six more hours of this crap?” Vette groaned. “I’m going to sweat to death before they get here.”

Quinn’s head snapped toward her so quickly she was sure he had whiplash. “You’re sweating?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve got all these layers on.”

“You didn’t read the dressing guidelines, did you?” he asked accusingly.

“Nope.”

“Imbecile. Those guidelines prepare you for an event such as this. You need to take off the wet layers now.”

“Oh, void, no. I’m not taking off my clothes here. It’s freezing!”

“You’ll freeze faster covered in water.”

“If I’m hot enough to sweat, I can’t possibly – ”

“Shut up!” he snapped. She snapped her mouth shut. “You can and will freeze when the heat source sputters out. You need to remove your clothes and get dry immediately.”

“You want me to strip down to nothing? How is that supposed to help?”

“You need to get dry, the thermal blanket and sleeping bag should take some of the edge off the cold.”

“I’m supposed to have faith in ‘some’?”

Quinn gave her his best “You’re an idiot” face and shook his head. “You have several options: freeze to death like an idiot, take off your clothes and stay warmer than you would with wet clothing on, or take off your clothes and come over here to warm yourself on my body heat. I would prefer it if you froze to death like an idiot.”

“Tell me again why I told Syla not to kill your a*s when she had the chance?” she shot back.

“You’re an idiot,” he replied. The edge had left his voice and his glare. He sighed and started fiddling with something inside of his sleeping bag. “Get over here and quickly, before I change my mind and let you die like an idiot.”

“Do I still have to take off my clothes?”

“Do as I say and live. Don’t and die like an idiot.”

It had to be the most awkward moment of her life. To his credit, Quinn looked away while she peeled layer after layer of sweat soaked clothing from her person and tossed them outside the sleeping bag. Despite the tent and the ambient heat from the small heat source, a layer of ice settled on her discarded clothing. Damn that man for being right. When she was finished disrobing, Quinn shifted closer, unzipped the two bags and zipped them back up at one unit.

“Didn’t know they did that,” Vette said quietly.

“I prepare for every possible outcome,” he replied stiffly.

“Yeah.”

“Come.”

She inched closer to him. He was lying on his side and facing her, waiting for her to get close enough to hold onto him. She wasn’t sure how this would work and she was very uncomfortable baring her blue bottom to the elements and cuddling up to Quinn. She should just give up and freeze to death. Maybe that Tauntaun was still for rent.

As she got closer, Quinn opened his outer jacket, his inner jacket, and his water resistant tunic. Next time, she would definitely read whatever long, drawn out crap he put in front of her face. She tried not to study his chest for too long lest he comment, but his skin had healed rather well. The scar tissue wasn’t pulled taut over the muscle underneath. He looked good. Not like sexy good, just normal good. Healed good. With a determined huff, she slowly curled against him and tried not to press her chest to him too much. It worked well when combined with her fetal position.

“You’re warm,” she said quietly.

“I have no intention of freezing to death like an idiot,” he replied stiffly.

“I get it already, jeez.”

He made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat.

“You know, I really didn’t expect you to be this warm. You’re normally so cold.”

“Body temperature and personality have no correlation.”

“You call that a personality?”

“Your smart mouth, sarcastic attitude and fiery passion for all things Twi’lek cover just how cold you are temperature wise.”

“It’s why my skin is blue.”

In spite of himself he breathed a quiet laugh. Her lekku twitched as the briefly warm air tickled the top of her head.

“Did you just – did you just laugh?” she asked dramatically. “I think the cold is getting to you, Captain.”

There was no point in admitting the slip had more to do with their awkward situation than a change in personality. It had been a frightfully long time since his last intimate encounter and, no matter how alien she was, Vette was still a naked humanoid female pressed against his body for warmth. He was grateful for the chill still in the air. Not that it mattered much in the long run.

“You know,” Vette started quietly, “if I close my eyes, I can pretend I’m in Pierce’s arms instead of yours.”

Quinn exhaled roughly through his nose.

“That bother you?”

“Should it?” he asked stiffly.

“I wouldn’t think so, but I heard you get all huffy.”

“If you desire to pretend your mate is holding you do so in silence.”

Vette snickered quietly. “He’s not my boyfriend or anything. We just, ya know, hang out.”

“Hang out in silence.”

“What do you have against talking?”

“Everything if you’re involved.”

“My ability to talk saved your skin; be a little more grateful, won’t you?”

“Your ability to talk is hindering my ability to concentrate.”

“Concentrate on what? Trying to stop a certain reaction from taking place? Don’t worry, Quinn, that’s normal when a hot, naked lady is pressed against your bare skin. Didn’t your mommy teach you that?”

“She died when I was four.”

“Awkward.”

“Will you be quiet now?”

“Yeah.”

The only noise in the tent was the sound of the wind howling and small pellets of ice beating the surface of the tent. With such silence, Quinn dozed off for a while and happily dreamt of nothing. Vette, on the other hand, stayed awake, unable to concentrate on sleeping while naked and shivering against Quinn. She took the time to study his features as he slept. He wasn’t as relaxed as he was when he was unconscious, but he still looked softer in his sleep than he did when he was awake. And he was definitely more relaxed than he was when he was dreaming. Those dreams. She shivered and not from the cold for once. He never described the dreams, but his screams were enough to tell her they weren’t pretty. Some nights he simply whimpered and soaked his bed with sweat and tears. Other nights… she shivered again. Other nights were brutal. She caught bits and pieces of what was happening as he muttered and screamed and begged. He was reliving Syla’s torture and it was torture. She toyed with him. Vette shivered again. She knew darkness when she saw it. Quinn was an utter coward and a fool, but she couldn’t bring herself to watch him die in such a manner and it didn’t feel right to leave and allow Syla to continue. It would have broken something inside Syla, Vette was sure of that.

The wind continued to howl and Vette continued her vow of silence until the heat source sputtered and died.

“Quinn?” she asked quietly, panic edging into her voice.

“Mm?” he murmured quietly, not quite awake.

“The heat went out.”

His eyes snapped open and he turned his head toward the now dead lantern.

“How long until rescue?”

“Two hours at least,” he replied.

“We’re going to die.”

“Our body heat combined with the sleeping bags and the thermal outer layer should suffice until we are rescued,” he said calmly.

“There’s still the matter of me being bare a*s naked.”

“Your clothes are frozen solid.”

“Please tell me you packed a spare and just forgot about it.”

“I have a spare under layer, but nothing to protect you from the elements.”

“Gimme!”

“Not for another hour.”

“Whyyyy?” Vette whined.

“The easiest way for me to transfer heat to you is skin to skin. If the process is halted too soon your core temperature will drop over two hours instead of one, leaving you open you to frostbite or frozen limbs.”

“Is there some way to increase blood flow to help me warm up a little faster? I’m still freezing here.”

“There is, but it is highly inappropriate.”

“Oh, stars,” Vette sighed. “Please don’t say sex.”

“Intercourse consumes energy, increases body temperature to the point of sweating, and is an entirely messy process. It wouldn’t be worth it for the brief time it lasts,” he replied stiffly.

“That bad in bed?”

“Shut up.”

“Wait, if it’s not sex, how is it inappropriate?”

“It’s a form of manual stimulation.”

“You mean – oh, stars. I’m not about to – not in front of you. Ew.”

“As I said, it is inappropriate as the situation is not dire enough for such measures.”

“It’s not like it takes hours anyway.”

“For some it can.”

“Wow, you’re just all sorts of unlucky with your partners, aren’t you?” she quipped.

He fixed her with his best glare and snarled, “If you don’t want to freeze to death naked in a tent, you would be wise to silence that mouth of yours.”

“Touchy.”

“You’re about to get touchy on the other side of the tent if you don’t shut up this instant.”

She was silent for a moment. “How the does it help, anyway?”

His glare didn’t subside, but he answered her question with his most clinical voice. “It increases blood flow throughout the body, most notably the skin, which becomes flushed. The flushed skin is the perfect conduit to take absorbed heat and spread it throughout the body, thus heating the subject thoroughly.”

“Have you ever tried this?”

“Not personally.”

“So you’ve never –”

“Vette,” he said harshly, “shut up.”

“Where’s that spare outfit?”

“In the bag in the corner. Put it on, get away from me, and shut up.”

“But you’re my personal heater.”

“Shut up.”

“You say that as if I actually will.”

She moved away from his heat source and grumbled something about rude Imperials. He glared at her, but she was too busy worming her way to the corner of the tent without losing too much heat or using too much energy. When she finally had her hands on the pack, she ducked into the sleeping bag and tried to dress herself in the dark. After much struggling and cursing she managed to dress herself in the spare water resistant outfit Quinn had packed. It wasn’t made for warmth, but it was something. Damn was she cold though. After several minutes of intense shivering, Quinn suggested she resume her previous position curled against him. She bit her tongue to keep her mouth from getting ahead of her brain and shifted back toward him. Instead of facing him as she had last time, she turned her back to him and assumed a position she could only label as spooning, though that felt extremely intimate all things considered. He carefully wrapped the layers of his protective clothing around her.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

“You’re welcome,” he said stiffly.

They were finally rescued four hours later. They weren’t far from the nearest Imperial base, only an hour’s trot by Tauntaun, but it was an hour outside in the blasted elements. Elements that didn’t seem to agree with allowing them to live. They were buffeted and generally harassed by snow and wind, but they made the trek back to base accompanied by the small rescue team. It was no warmer in the base, but they did have hot broth. She was never more excited to see Imperial rations. Quinn left to hail Syla and let her know of the events that had taken place. When he returned, he kept his distance. She tried to engage him in conversation, but a tart reply of “Be silent” made her shake her head and sigh.

Some things never changed.

This was incredibly difficult to write, but, when I finally got it out, it came out in 2700 words. Crikey!

For the record, Quinn said "Shut up" six times, suggested Vette be silent three times, told her to do something in silence four times, called her an idiot seven times, and called her an imbecile once.

Yeeeaaaaah...

Vette was there once again, this time hovering nearby as he vomited until he was reduced to dry heaves. How he had managed to crawl out of his bunk and make it to his refresher in time, he didn’t know. Perseverance, perhaps. The desire to not make a fool out of himself. It didn’t matter, really, Vette had witnessed him at his lowest and he hated her for it. She should have kept her flapping jaw wired shut and let him die. Syla’s torture was nothing compared to this. It was nothing compared to the ache in his chest when he tried to breathe, it was nothing compared to the panic that settled over him every time he so much as thought Syla was around. It was nothing compared to the dreams. They were nightmares, really, painful, terrible nightmares. Everything that happened, everything that was said, he felt and heard it all over and over again until he finally, finally died. There was no release before death. No release until his last aching breath, his last aching plea to be let go. To die. He begged to die. He would laugh bitterly if he had any energy left, but he didn’t. He was drained of everything every night. And Vette was there, staring at him with those annoyingly wide brown eyes that were somehow curious and pitying at the same time. He hated her.

He finally found the cool surface of the refresher wall against his back and drew his knees up, resting his forearms over them and dangling his hands. It was only a matter of time before he shattered completely. And the only person that tried to keep him glued together was Vette. And he hated her.

Vette moved to the toilet and obliterated the contents with the push of a button. She closed the lid and sat down facing him, but she remained quiet. He was grateful for the reprieve, but he still hated her. It wouldn’t be long before she spoke, she always did, no matter how many times he asked her to be silent. She couldn’t stop herself. Speaking was an impulse with her. She always spoke when she was uncomfortable. He hated it. He hated her.

“I find it funny,” he said dully, staring at the tiled floor beneath him, “that the only person aboard this ship who pretends to care is the one person I hate the most.”

“It’s pretty funny, isn’t it?” Vette asked softly. “I didn’t save you because I like you. I saved you because it would’ve – Syla would have snapped, gone full dark side. I couldn’t let her do that. Not over you.”

It was good to know he wasn’t worth anything on his own. He idly wondered where his blaster was so he could end this farce of an existence. He was tired. So very tired of everything.

“If I’m worth so little, why do you still come? Why did you stay by my bed as I healed?” he asked.

“I don’t – I don’t know, Quinn. Stop asking weird questions.”

“Did you do it to make yourself feel better?”

“I’m not like you; I don’t abandon people to die because someone tells me to.”

“Does it make you feel better? Does it make you feel superior? Do you get that rush of power as you prove just how much better you are than me while not fully understanding the situation?” he asked. He raised his eyes to hers. They were as empty as his voice.

“What’s to understand? You were Baras’ lackey the entire time. He said ‘Murder’ and you jumped at the chance.”

He laughed hollowly. “Is that what you think happened?” He paused and shook his head. “No. No, I delayed Baras’ plans for months. I fought him every step of the way until I was backed into a corner.”

“You could have said something. You should have said something.”

“Yes, that would have gone over rather well,” he said numbly. “’Hello, my Lord, I’m Baras’ spy and he’s finally ordered me to kill you. Any last words or should I go ahead and flush myself out the airlock?’” he said mockingly. Finally, a bit of emotion, even it was only spite.

“You had options,” she insisted quietly.

“Option one: kill Syla and continue to live as Baras’ personal assassin until such a time I was no longer of use. Option two: die.”

“Option three: come clean and hope for the best.”

“Hope for death, you mean.”

“Syla’s pretty rational for a Sith.”

“Yes, she is, isn’t she. Instead of killing me quickly, she listened to you and spared my life. It’s a much greater torture to continue living through panic, nightmares, and genuine fear than to be killed. It gives her something to feed on, something to strengthen her. Yes, she’s very rational.”

“Look, Quinn, I –” she started.

“Shut up,” he said dismissively. He resumed his staring contest with the tiles and hoped she would take the hint and leave. After a few minutes she did leave. He waited a few more before picking himself up from the floor and shuffling back into the main part of his quarters. Where was his damned blaster?

In place of his blaster and his vibroknife he found a strange little statuette. It was obviously some sort of Twi’lek relic. He studied the little figure, flipping it this way and that as he tried to determine its exact nature. The little figure had its hands cupped into a bowl in front of it and had its head down. It wore some sort of robe that may have been ceremonial, he wasn’t sure. He tossed the confusing thing onto his bed and moved for his spare blaster only to find that too was replaced by something else. It was no bigger than a marble, whatever it was, and looked as if it would fit into the palms of the little Twi’lek.

He moved to his bunk and sat down. He grabbed the little figure and joined the two pieces. To his surprise, the little orb began to glow with a faint, pulsing blue light. It was oddly calming.

He hated her and her little figure. But, somewhere far away in his mind, he was glad someone, anyone bothered to care enough to keep him safe from himself.

Even if it was the person he hated most on the crew.

Vette convinces Syla not to kill Quinn on the Transponder Station and manages to talk her into keeping him aboard the ship as part of the crew. Quinn suffers from episodes of panic and terrible nightmares. Vette and Quinn are stranded on Hoth for a few hours where Quinn continuously calls Vette an idiot, but offers up his body for warmth (chika b- wait no, that didn't happen). In a bid to root out the rest of Baras' people, Syla and crew travel to a hangar...

He was floating. That was all he could feel in that moment. He felt the air shift around him, he felt himself drifting, he felt the air cool around him. Then he felt the ground. He felt it hard. He tumbled along the ground, rolling end over end until he came to a stop on his stomach.

Malavai, get up.

He couldn’t feel anything. He knew how he got to this place, this place called the ground. War droids. It was always war droids. They weren’t his this time. This time they were in cahoots with an apprentice to Baras who just wouldn’t give it up. Stubborn to the last their blasted droid lived longer than they did. He didn’t know what drove him to do it, what drove him to actually touch her long enough to push her out of the way, but he did know it helped him reach this place called the ground.

Malavai, you have to move. It’s coming back.

He tried to reply to whoever was speaking, but his tongue felt heavy. His whole body felt like duracrete sinking to the bottom of an ocean somewhere, slowly floating ever downward into the darkness.

Malavai!

He couldn’t move. He was too weak, too heavy, too far down to move on his own. He could hear the metallic pounding growing ever closer. He didn’t try to move. He welcomed the end.

We won’t die here.

A different voice this time. Was that his own? Perhaps. Did it matter was the better question.

The war droid was a few feet away, he knew that much. He heard it arm its canons and felt something snap into the void. But it wasn’t his life or his death, it was something strange. He felt a great darkness rise up within him and rush through him. He reached toward it, whatever it was, and found himself floating.

To the others, Quinn was not floating, he was fighting. Syla was stunned, Pierce had nearly dropped his rifle, Broonmark was actually pumping his fist in the air and rooting, Jaesa’s jaw would have hit the floor had it been any lower, and Vette was staring silently. Quinn was fast on his feet, a knife in each hand, and had a glow to his eyes that no one had seen from him before; a glow that was very Sithy indeed. He took a combat stance for all of five seconds before charging at the droid in a suicide run. His burns from the droids grenades didn’t slow him down, nothing slowed him down. He dodged blaster fire, canon rounds, and fire as he closed the distance between him and the war droid.

Syla watched intently as the man, hell bent on destroying the droid and drawing on what appeared to be the Force, jumped into the air and landed on the droid’s targeting array. The sound of metal shredding metal echoed throughout the small hangar bay. He flipped off and away as if nothing happened then finished the droid off with a shout. Yes, definitely the Force, but Quinn wasn’t gifted in that area. He never had been and one didn’t discover such powerful abilities late in life. And he was so – he acted as if he had been trained to do this; as if, at some point in time, he had been a Force user and a strong one.

The group subconsciously shuffled closer to each other as Quinn turned his attentions to them. Vette let out a startled gasp. His eyes. His eyes were orange. Orange like Sith eyes. There was no way – he couldn’t possibly – there was no way. He took a slow, purposeful step toward them, but, before he could do anything, violent or otherwise, his nose erupted in a fountain of blood.

He knew the floating sensation of falling once more.

Since Quinn isn't banished to Balmorra, there's no delay in Sith!Quinn making himself known. He's back, baby.

Awwww yiiiiss.

Crap...

It only took 26 seconds for everyone to be in the room after the intercom summons ended. Perhaps there was something to this "loosening up" after all. Then again, in the old days, perhaps they all had simply ignored or wished to irritate him by specifically taking longer than necessary.

No matter...Quinn had a newfound respect for his shipmates, regardless of their lack of military discipline, and felt that they actually had some respect for him...a novel sensation in his and their years aboard this ship. Even Vette deferred to him occasionally. He very nearly choked the first time she buried her snide comment and simply did as he'd asked. Then again, she appeared to have very nearly choked that he'd asked it instead of ordered it stiffly.

In the few weeks since their elimination of Lord Xioban on the transponder station, life aboard ship had changed into something...well...better than normal. Jaesa had been named as Darth Baras' new apprentice, and Quinn given immediate command of the ship, as expected. Since that epic battle, though, she had taken on a new maturity: miles from the naive child that Xioban had broken and taken as apprentice, nor was she the psychotic lunatic that Xioban had molded in her own image.

She had clearly grown into the role of a Sith, and that had clearly been felt by Baras, even halfway across the galaxy. At present, he was about to explain to the crew just exactly what that meant.

"Good morning. We are headed for Dromund Kaas, and will arrive within a few hours. We have been summoned back by Darth Baras so that he can meet with Miss Jaesa in person. In all likelihood, she will come out of that meeting having been promoted to Sith Lord. With that, she will assume command of the ship, and we will resume our missions in the service of Darth Baras and the Empire."

He brought up a holo list of targets and missions and went meticulously over the outline. As he felt everyone start to fade into boredom a bit, he flipped another switch. A vague hum was felt by everyone and a metallic taste filled the air. Everyone jumped.

"Unfortunately, this is all merely what we were meant to believe and, to borrow a word from Vette, crap." The Twi'lek beamed in her seat. "The field I just raised will prevent Force users from feeling what happens inside this room, as well as disabling any snooping devices, up to and beyond what Imperial Intelligence currently possesses. It was given to me by Darth Baras for use against Lord Xioban, and I have been able to determine that even he does not have a 'back door', as it were. Jaesa, I'm sure you can verify the Force-blocking properties."

She looked slightly ill. "Yes. I could draw on the Force if I really needed to, but not as powerfully as normal, and all sense of everything outside this room is just...missing."

"My apologies for the disturbing nature of the field. I will attempt to be brief."

"Darth Baras, put very simply, is absolutely paranoid. After raising up an unrivaled spy network, he summarily destroyed it with our help, simply because part of it might have been proven to exist. After raising up an apprentice of unrivaled power who was willing to perform his every whim, he ordered me to destroy her simply because he thought she might some day be a threat. And now, after stating how much he wanted Miss Jaesa to be his new apprentice, he has decided to destroy her after only a few weeks despite finding her progress and work very satisfactory indeed."

"He alone is responsible, directly or indirectly, for in excess of eighty percent of deaths of Dark Council members or their immediate apprentices over the past twenty years." He paused to let that figure sink in. "Even by Sith standards, that man is a menace to the Empire. And he must be stopped."

"So, before we reach Dromund Kaas, we shall have a 'hyperdrive malfunction' and be forced to stop, and limp on to Alderaan for repairs. While there, we will pick up reinforcements to the crew, and have a short time to get acquainted and engage in combat practice before we complete our journey to Dromund Kaas and complete our mission.

Pierce piped up at that point. "What is our actual mission, sir?" Pierce had long since stopped trying to goad Quinn, and the two had fallen into a comradeship that could almost be called "friendly".

"I'm glad you asked, Lieutenant." All eyes expectantly took in his slight smile. "We are returning to Dromund Kaas to destroy Darth Baras." Jaesa, of course, knew all of this already. He had already sworn loyalty to her and given her command of the ship, with himself serving as the figurehead in case any blame needed to be deflected. She was quietly trying to keep from going mad within this field, which affected her far worse than either of them had guessed. He would attempt to expedite further.

He let that sink in for a moment. Vette was the next one to speak up. "So, Quinnie-poo..." He didn't hate the name quite so much now that there was a modicum of genuine affection behind it. "...who are these mysterious reinforcements we're picking up? And do they believe in 'movie night' Wednesday?"

"I'm not sure about the second question, and I should keep their identities secret until we meet for their own protection." She nodded. "But I met one while I was serving during a couple diplomatic missions, and the second was our ship's doctor....or so we thought..."

Staring through the table in front of him lost in thought he took another sip of his drink. Aric made a face, he was not fond of tea and it was all they seemed to have on this planet. He was dying for a good black cup of caf, preferably spiked. He stared through the gnarled wooden surface, trying not to think, to close his eyes, to remember. But he did, he remembered.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. The way she was straddling his supine body; kneeling, her weight on her right leg, the left draped over his body toe pointed ready to spring, her body taunt. Her right hand was up over their heads, her left held her saber ignited outstretched over them bathing them in the palest of blues, her body twisted, her head turned looking behind them, dark auburn hair streaming lose.

His eyes slowly closed, again he saw her, felt her body touching his, the sundered ground digging into his back, he shuddered as he remembered.

He heard the cacophonous destruction around him, the debris falling on their heads, hitting the shimmering white Force field she held up over them as the sky rained down twisted metal, rocks and scorched earth. The spine-chilling screams reached his assaulted ears; the Gormacs were regrouping, charging towards the smoking crater where they huddled. She moved above him, a primal growl escaped her lips as her right hand shot out, her robe moving flowing over them.

Her arm jerked up, her hand clenched in a fist, outside the Force field the two Gormacs, males, were lifted up off the ground. He heard their strangled gurgles as their throats were crushed. He watched entranced as she picked her arm up higher, the struggling bodies lifted further off the ground, her hand suddenly closed, he heard the distinctive snaps of necks breaking as she growled again and threw their bodies through the air slamming them up against a twisted metal piling.

Her robe swirled around them as she twisted at an impossible angle to look around them, confirming they were finally safe, all the aggressors terminated. She twisted back around returning to a more humanly pose, her hair obscuring her face. She extinguished her saber returning it to her right hip. Pushing her loose red locks out of her face she leaned over him, her eyes glittering gold.

Her eyes scanned him as he lay beneath her in the cratered earth. The force of the impact had knocked his helmet loose. Gently she removed it and set it to the side. She deftly unlatched his breastplate examining the damaged armor, there was a large smoking hole where the left side of his armor should have been. She quickly felt his chest; he grimaced growling at her. She simply grinned, “Nothing threatening, just bruising.”

He slowly sat up his face close to hers as he fought to prop himself up to survey the damage. He gasped. There was nothing left. The objective had definitely been completed; the complex that housed the shield generators, the prototype ship, even the hanger was gone smoking twisted metal remained. He stared at the devastation. When he had gotten hit there was still a compound standing here.

He shuddered, his claws digging into the wooden tabletop. He pulled himself out of his reverie; he blinked looking around the room. When he had gotten hit, his hand unconsciously went to his chest, to the large painful welts and bruising that covered half of his torso. He should be dead. He ran his clawed fingertips over his head. He should be dead. But she had saved him. He took another drink of his tea desperately praying for something stronger, he was alive due to a Sith.

He let his mind slip back into the memory replaying the event. When he had gotten hit, the blast took him unaware, he had not seen the huge male with the assault cannon. He barely had time to hear it and register the threat before he felt his body being picked up and pushed away from the fighting. Time seemed to slow down, everything playing out in painfully slow motion before finally freezing before his eyes.

He flew and landed hard, so hard, his teeth clanked together, the smell of ozone flooded his sinuses, smoke and sulfur filled his mouth, his breath stolen. Around him a white bubble formed, the plasma grenade detonated. His body slammed back into a crater, dazed he didn’t understand. He looked up he saw her; she had her hand outstretched reaching towards him. She spun her saber cutting a staggering Gormak in half. Sprinting towards him she launched herself into the air, she landed her legs straddling him. She sank to one knee protecting him.

Protecting him, she had been. He took another sip of his tea scowling at the cup, he realized now she had picked him up and pushed him out of range, effectively escaping most of the explosion. She produced that Force field, shielding them from the twisted shrapnel. She could of let him die, given the situation it would have been easy enough to explain away. But she hadn’t the Sith had saved him, he owed his life to a damn Sith. The last couple days had been the strangest of his life but he could of never predicted this. Predicted her, what happened next. How could he? He closed his eyes and the image leapt before him.

She leaned closer grinning, her chest heaving from the effort, “I think we can call that a success.”

He stared at her, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glittered excited. “Are they all,” his body hummed in pain, grimacing he started again. “Are they all gone?”

She winked at him her grin widening. “Every single one. We are all alone.” She leaned closer to him.

He became very aware of their positioning, she was still straddling him, but now she was on her knees sitting in his lap. His left arm propped him up; his right was on her leg. His breastplate and helmet were on the ground next to them, her fingers were still buried in his tawny chest fur, her ebony robe pooled around them shielding them further from view. Her breath was so hot on his cheek, he turned to look at her, their faces a hair’s breadth apart. He stared at her, chewing on his bottom lip; the silence, the tension became palatable. “Thank … thank you, for uhh…. Thank you.” His voice was so quiet.

She closed the gap between them, “there are better ways to thank someone,” she leaned in closer her lips teasing his. His hand closed over her thigh, her weight settled onto his lap as her fingers dug into his chest. She bit his lower lip before she captured his mouth, he groaned as she deepened the kiss her tongue caressing his fangs. He yielded to her, laying backwards into the crater as she pushed him down, her mouth never leaving his. His hand explored her thigh as his left ran up her arm. All thoughts fled his mind as he caressed her.

Suddenly she stopped, growling. He opened his eyes, “what,” he mumbled. He caught a whiff of her, smoke, ozone and earthy unknown herbs, inhaling it he tried to commit it to memory. He licked her neck savoring the salt on her skin. Another growl as she straightened, she slid off of his lap and into the smoking earth. He looked at her confused. Moments later, two figures walked into view and stood at the edge of the crater.

The hard violet gaze of his XO caught his. She was livid, her jaw set. Her dark olive skin flushed in anger. Next to her the Sith’s apprentice stood a smile playing on her lips as she looked at him. He bit his lip. What had he done? He tried to stand and winced. The Sith stood slowly, she extended her hand to him; he happily grabbed it, allowing her to pull him to his feet.

He looked at his feet, his breastplate was ruined but he picked it up anyway. The smoking hole in the front sent shivers down his spine. He glanced again at the redheaded Sith. He owed her. She picked up his helmet and pulled him against her side, grateful he leaned against her, she shouldered part of his weight helping him out of the smoking crater. When they reached the top her apprentice moved next to them, "Allow me Master." The quiet brunette slipped in next to Aric, dr*ping his arm across her shoulders, relieving the redhead of her burden. The venomous look his XO gave her cousin surprised him, something heated and unspoken passed between the two of them. The Sith glared at his XO before briefly turning her attention to Aric and her apprentice. Her apprentice nodded to her and then she was gone, slipping into the nearby treeline.

His commander had not spoken to him on the walk back to Voss-Ka, she did not even look at him. He followed her at a distance limping, supported by the Sith’s apprentice, the redheaded Sith silently took the point scouting the perimeter an unseen shadow guarding their return. After his XO had said her good-byes to her cousin she silently stalked back to shuttle. He stood there holding his scorched gear as she walked aboard the shuttle to take them to the Republic Orbital Station. Silently he followed.

Aboard the Thunderclap she finally talked, she was yelling so loudly the entire station had to of heard her. She screamed at him for not following orders for blatantly disregarding her command. He stood there, back straight, as she gave him a complete condescending dressing down. He stared at her waiting for her to finish. Finally she seemed satisfied and turned to leave, before she left she looked back him over her shoulder, “Oh and your little field trip back to Nar Shaddaa, that can wait a couple days.” She stormed out of the common area and up to her personal quarters.

He slunk back into the crew’s quarters; he put his ruined armor on the floor. He stared at the blackened durasteel, the engulfing hole; he was going to have to get an entirely new chestplate it was beyond salvaging. He stripped off the rest of his armor, setting it on the floor.

He had to get out of here, there was no way he spending any more time on this ship. He had followed his orders to the letter; he had provided support fire there had not been any other orders. He pulled on his faded civilian clothing, stuffing spare clothes into a bag. He did not have in him to puzzle over her actions tonight, to determine if there had been an unspoken alluded to command or if the dressing down was a way to cover her tracks to the surface. Wincing he slung his rifle over his shoulder, his assault cannon lost during his flight. Quietly he crept out of the crew's quarters, he heard Dorne working in the med bay. He slipped past her and out of the ship.

He sighed, blinking his eyes. He needed to stop thinking about it, about her. Stomach growling he glanced around the small foreign cantina. Around him the aroma of cooking food floated but he did not see a single patron eating. He sighed and gripped his teacup tighter, probably reserved for people who had rooms. Which he didn't, all the rooms were filled for the night. Grimacing he took another sip of his tea, he was hungry, exhausted and hurt but he was not returning to the ship tonight, he was way to confused. He needed to sit to think things through, find some way to rationalize it all.

Rationalize it; he spat an angry laugh into his cup. How was he supposed to rationalize this? His commanding officer was related to a Sith Lord. Not only was she related, his Captain willingly rendezvoused with her on this planet to further her 'cousin's' interests. Her cousin. What a cousin. She moved with a lethal grace, spoke with a quiet authority; he imagined few ever challenged her. Admittedly he had been to busy staring when they met to even think a single argumentative thought. What he had been thinking, he felt his face warm, was far from argumentative. He still couldn't believe what he had done, that he had acted on it; he was losing his mind. How was he supposed to know when they met things were going to happen? How? When they met, he stared through the table as it replayed it in his head.

The air was crisp clean, carrying the foreign scents of the local flora and fauna. He detected a humaniod scent, there ahead of them in the valley below. He smiled, below them but within range were two figures, smelled to be female, cloaked in black robes. Sith. He brought his assault cannon to bear on them, in a few moments they would be history. He nudged his commanding officer and nodded with his head to their position.

Then his XO did something very strange. Her hand snaked out grabbing him on the arm, “Stand down Lieutenant.”

“What?” He was floored. “Stand down, why? They don’t even know we are here.”

Her tone grew cold, “you have your order stand down.”

“But Sir,” he hissed, “its a clean shot.”

“Stand down!” she barked. He growled in frustration as he lowered his cannon. He watched the two black-cloaked figures below him and shook his head.

Suddenly the taller of the two looked up at their position, her eyes locked onto them. His XO’s hand tightened, he could feel the pressure through the durasteel. She snarled at him, “Not all Sith use hate, anger and rage.” He looked at her confused, what was she talking about? “Back up,” she hissed, pulling him away from the ledge. Below them the taller Sith motioned to the smaller, and then she was hurtling through the air at them, landing on bent knees with a earth cracking thud before them.

Gracefully she stood, lowering her hood. He stared at her stunned, extremely thankful for his helmet. He bit his lip as he watched her. She did not look like any Sith he had ever seen before. The Human had dark red hair framing an angular porcelain face that held the most beautiful green eyes he had ever seen, a smile played along her full lips, causing those eyes to sparkle. Under her ebony robe, her blackened durasteel armor, was it durasteel? What kind of armor did Sith wear? Stars it didn't matter, the way it hugged those curves, he had this overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around that slender waist and bury his nose in her hair. She was barely half a hand shorter than he was, the perfect height, the perfect fit; he began to imagine the feel of that armor under his fingertips.

“I was wondering if you were going to assist dear cousin,” the Sith purred, snapping him out of his daydream and dropping him back on the ledge.

Cousin? What… what? He stared at her, how by the ancestors was that even possible? He stared at the Human in front of him, the Human.

He studied the woman quietly inhaling; she looked like his XO. They shared a similar stature; tall and athletic he begrudgingly admitted his XO shared the Sith's ample curves. The facial features were so similar, their noses, cheekbones and mouths were almost identical, almost, the Sith was actually smiling. But there was a blinding discrepancy; the woman standing in front of him was Human. His XO was Mirialan, well at least he always thought she was. She had dark olive skin, bright violet eyes and raven black hair.

His XO took off her helmet and smiled at the Human. “Of course I would come, family first,” she smiled, but there was no warmth on her face. He stared at her so confused.

“It is mutually beneficial dear cousin,” the Sith smiled, “it should be a quick in and out type of operation.”

His XO nodded curtly, “Of course,” she jerked her head toward the Sith still waiting below them.

“Ahh yes,” the redhead said, “we might want to give her a bit more room, she is a bit … new.” They backed up as the other Sith leapt to their position.

“Master,” the smaller brunette Human nodded to the older Sith as she lowered her hood. She turned to look at them.

His XO nodded to her, extended her arm, “Captain Darksun," she shook the Sith’s hand and gestured in his direction, "my second in command Lieutenant Jorgan.”

Briefly he hesitated then nodded and removed his helmet. He reached out to shake their hands and his Captain shot him a poisoned side glance.

The redheaded Sith caught the look, her eyebrow arching at the unexpected glare. She grasped his hand, “Lord Tyche and this is my apprentice Jaesa.” The smaller tanned woman gracefully bowed her head in greeting.

He was baffled, his commander had a Sith Lord for a cousin. How was that even possible? He stared at them side by side, if it was not for the colouring they looked as if they could be sisters. Did anyone even know, they couldn’t. If anyone had any idea they would have never allowed her to rise to such a prominent position, especially within Havoc. He watched them shocked, his commander was deferring to the Lord, dropping her head gesturing in his direction. The Sith looked in his direction before returning their attention to his XO.

The women started talking strategy, they were headed deep into Gormak Lands, something about blowing up a prototype starcraft. He tried to keep an ear tuned to their conversation, he tried but he was to preoccupied attempting to sort out the family tie. No wonder the Captain had threatened him if he told anyone about their trip down to the planet. He turned his back on them, walking to a higher vantage point and began to watch their position, lost in thought.

The sun was hanging heavy in the sky when they had decided on their final plan of attack. The decision was made to make camp here for the evening and leave at first light. He drew first watch, he was determined to be the only watch. He did not care if the dark Force users were playing friendly tonight, the entire situation was too surreal and he was not going to sleep around them.

He sat with his back up against a rough tree, eyes scanning the darkness, ears straining for foreign sounds. He practically jumped out of his skin when she spoke. “I will take over the watch get some sleep.”

It was the redheaded Sith. She was standing less than a meter away her hand resting on the tree. How had he not heard her approach?

He shook his head, “I’m not tired.” He shifted away from her, hand moving to his cannon.

She moved closer to him, standing beside him, looking out on the blackness stretched out before them.

Gracefully she knelt next to him, her hands folded in her lap. The wind picked up, it played with her black hood teasing it before it finally blew it backwards off her head.

The silence grew between them as she sat eyes closed next to him, he thought she might be meditating or whatever it was that Sith did. “Do you see it,” she whispered, eyes still closed. She pointed into the distance, there along the horizon was a crumbling ruin, deep within a white glow emanated.

He grunted acknowledgement, “What is it?”

Her head canted to the side, “It feels like some sort of temple, I love that about this planet so many things to discover,” the excitement in her voice was growing.

She opened her eyes, they glittered as she stared at him. He found himself leaning towards her using her arm as a sight to stare at the faintly glowing ruin. Her excitement was contagious he forgot himself as he leaned close to her, he felt her hot breath on his cheek as she whispered to him. “It’s a pity I won’t be able to go explore it.”

He turned to face her, and inhaled his breath catching in his throat, his face was centimeters away from hers. “Why, wont you?” Surely if a Sith wanted to do something who could stop them?

She frowned, “I only have a limited window to be here.”

“Oh,” he dropped his eyes.

Moving back against the tree he busied himself with his weapon. Stars what was he doing, he should not let himself become that relaxed around her, she was a fracking Sith, regardless of the bizarre circumstances of this mission she was still the enemy. The fact she was so calm and collected meant nothing, that she spoke softly, it meant nothing. He ran experienced fingers along the barrel, double checking the power cells, rechecking the weapons calibration. It meant nothing that she looked nothing like any Sith he had laid eyes on before, that she was so pretty. Absolutely nothing, then why did it bother him she had to leave, he caught himself mourning the opportunity to go exploring with her.

From the depths of her robe a muted beeping sounded. She reached into a hidden inner pocket and pulled out a small holocom. She held a finger to her lips as her eyes locked onto his. She cued the communicator to life, the blue flickering image of a very large man, bare-chested, in sleep pants blinked into view. “M’ Lord,” the man rumbled.

She smiled at the projection, “Evening Lieutenant, is something the matter?”

“No m’ Lord, just checking in. Ship’s secure, cargo was delivered this afternoon.”

“Excellent, any other news?”

“No m’ Lord,” the hologram responded.

She nodded, moving to end the call when he cleared his throat. “Yes?” She looked at him red eyebrow arched.

“M’ Lord,” he hesitated, “you are in a secure location this evening?”

She smiled at him, “Yes Lieutenant.”

“Right…” he trailed off.

She tilted her head to one side staring at the man’s projection, “I will contact you tomorrow evening, update you to my status.” The man’s shoulders dropped in relief.

“Thank you, good hunting… Kit.” The man ended the call and his image blinked out of existence.

“They don’t know where you are?” he stared at her.

She shook her head no, “they don’t,” she whispered, as she scanned the darkness.

“Do you not trust him?” he chewed on his lip.

“My Lieutenant?” she questioned.

“Yea,” he grunted, baffled as to why she was hiding from her crew.

“I trust that man with my life,” she inhaled the cool air.

The silence grew again; it was comforting. He relaxed back against the tree watching the distant glowing ruin, wondering what lay within.

Warmth covered his hand, looking down he saw her fingers on his. “Can you show me?” she gestured to the large cannon cradled in his lap.

Taken aback he watched her, “You want to learn about an assault cannon?”

“Please,” she beamed, “I do enjoy learning something new, plus my Lieutenant really wants one of these. I have a distinct feeling it’s a very bad idea, but before I tell anyone no I do like to do my homework.”

“Possibly, Kit…” he let the word hang in the air.

“Ahh yeah that,” she smiled looking at the ground, “had he known I was not alone he would of addressed me properly.”

He raised an eyebrow waiting.

She smiled at him, “Kit’ar Darksun,” she tucked a loose lock behind her ear as she extended her hand to him.

He grasped her hand, “Aric Jorgan.” He stared at the woman; she definitely acted contrary to all he had ever been told.

“So can you?” she looked up at him hopeful. He nodded and she scooted closer, her hip barely brushing against his thigh, so she could see.

For the remainder of the evening they sat next to each other, she intently listened as he explained the basic and then the finer points of assault cannons, grenades and bombs. Occasionally she would ask a question or two but she mostly listened, as the night wore on they moved closer to each other. He was not sure who made the first move but by the time the breaking dawn filtered through the trees they were sitting next to each other her black robe draped around them to keep the chill off as they talked. Her body was warm as it leaned against him, her head rested on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her.

She moved suddenly. He looked at her concerned, “What is it?”

She shook her head frowning. It stuck a hidden cord within; it bothered him to see her frowning, what could be wrong? She stood up gracefully wrapping her black robe back around her body, hiding again her heavy durasteel and leatheris armor, concealing the saber hilt, the hilt his hand had rested on for part of the evening. She moved a respectable distance away and knelt, drawing her hood up and over her face.

Moments later a soft voice broke the morning’s silence, “Morning Master,” her apprentice stepped into the clearing between them.

“Morning Jaesa,” she murmured.

Her apprentice's mouth twitched with a repressed a smile as she looked from her Master to the Cathar and back again, “I trust you slept well.”

“Indeed, I did, did you Apprentice?”

“Yes Master,” the girl answered as she sunk to her knees besides the Sith Lord. Patiently the younger woman waited beside her master as Kit'ar gazed up into the fading ebony blanketing the sky, quietly whispering to the retreating stars. When she finished she dropped her head and closed her eyes, her action echoed by her student.

The two Sith began to mediate and he watched entranced, the air sparked and glowed around them, the apprentice was bathed in a golden light, the Sith Lord, no Kit he mentally corrected himself, was surrounded in crimson, it flickered and snapped around her. As they knelt the dawn blossomed, chasing away the inky remnants of the evening, flooding the sky with liquid waves of violets, blues and orange.

Whispering words drifted back to his straining ears, broken phrases teased and carried by the crisp morning breeze. “Peace is a lie, there is only passion… I gain strength, … I gain power. Through power I gain victory. … my chains are broken,” the last words were spoken with such conviction in their duel voices they carried with crystalline clarity, “The Force shall free me.”

He had been so absorbed in watching them he did not hear his XO approach. When she spoke she shattered the quiet, causing him to gasp and jump to his feet. She glared at him, “If you are done slacking off we have a mission to complete.”

“Yes Sir,” he mumbled as he turned to walk back into the camp.

He missed the scathing glare his XO shot her Sith Lord cousin, the neutral face that returned a pointed stare as the Sith Lord crossed her arms across her chest, he missed the apprentice laying a soft hand on her master’s shoulder.

He handed out the silver wrapped ration squares and bottles of water, before breaking down the tiny camp. Erasing all signs anyone had spent the night sheltered under the trees. He ate by himself, purposely putting distance between himself and the two Sith. His commander’s attitude improved, she actually smiled as she talked to the other women.

When they left the site, continuing on through the autumnal countryside, he had been in the rear of the group. As they talked their positions changed, when they neared the sprawling complex that was their objective in the heart of the Gormak Lands, he was walking shoulder to shoulder with the Sith Lord. He stole glances of her as they moved, her excitement was growing, her eyes glittered as she returned his sidelong glances.

When they split off to sneak into and through the compound he was surprised to find himself paired up with the redhead. He wondered what trick they had done to actually get his commander to pair off with the quiet apprentice. He was happy it happened though. Quietly he followed her though the compound slipping into and out of shadows watching as she distracted the sentries with flying rocks and distant noises.

Laid out below them was the objective, the shield generators as well as the hangar housing the Gormak’s prototype starship. If the ship was allowed to become operational then the city of Voss-Ka would be obliterated and the Gormaks would possess space travel. They were going to crater the entire operation. She was practically vibrating with excitement standing before the complex. She looked back over her shoulder gesturing for him to stand next to her.

“Hit all the generators first so if anything goes south any air strike I call in will be able to destroy the hanger and ship easily.”

He nodded, a silent shiver running through him at the mention of Imperial bombers.

“Anything that moves,” her eyes locked onto his, “kill it.” He watched transfixed as those deep emerald pools took on a golden glow. She turned to move and glanced back at him, “oh try not to hit me with that thing,” she smiled.

He shook his head, “I know the difference between support and friendly fire.”

She laughed. “Good,” she winked, “I’m off to make some friends then.”

With that she ran out of the woods sliding on bent legs down the hill, reaching the bottom she screamed the force of her yell shook the ground before her, she crouched down low and pushed off catapulting herself through the air. As she landed in a confused group of Gormaks her saber ignited, the pale blue blade danced through the air, slicing through the men as they stumbled trying to defend themselves. They fell at her feet within seconds. She stood her saber ignited at her side as she turned back to look up the hill at him.

Shaking his head he stared at her, she was beautiful in a powerful terrifying way, the black robes snapped around her as the wind blew, her hair pulling against its restraint, her body illuminated by the sky blue lightsaber clutched in her left hand. And then she was gone, running as fast as his eye could track towards the first generator. He slid down the hill after her, his cannon charging. Compelled to insure she had back up, that her actions were enforced with supporting fire.

He shuddered, it jerked him from his retrospective fog, he had given her the backup she needed and ended up being a liability. He was still unsure how she had known to move him, how she had been able to shove him so far away. The fur on his back shuddered and shivered flinching down his spine, perhaps it was best he didn't know he was just grateful she had been there to save his ornery hide. He took another drink from his lukewarm tea scowling at the cup.

“A credit for your thoughts,” a quiet feminine voice nudged him, interrupting his rumination. He looked up and saw her. He stared dumfounded. She gestured to the seat next to him. He nodded watching her as she sat down. Her hair was loose, bangs framing her face; her robes and armor were missing, replaced with simple black slacks and a fitted dark green blouse. He stared, if he had not spent the last couple days with her he would of never known she was Sith.

She sat a delicate cup on the table folding her hands in front of her. “Things not going well?”

Now that was a massive understatement, he looked her over, feeling as though his entire world was in upheaval. He shook his head no, “I could not spend the night on the ship,” he sighed.

“She’s that upset is she?” she looked at him puzzled.

He nodded, “Yes.”

“Why, I did not think the two of you were … together.”

He sighed; his entire body shook from his shoulders, through his chest and down into his core. “We are not.”

A warm hand settled on his. He looked at the manicured fingers, the dark red polish shining. He shook his head again, “no I’m not with anyone.” He glanced at her, “You?”

Pain flashed across her face vanishing as quickly as it appeared. “No,” she whispered, “I’m not.” She looked up at him and smiled.

Her fingers laced through his, she picked up her cup and took a sip. She relaxed into the chair drinking her tea, while looking out over the cantina, watching the other patrons. He sat staring at his cup, enjoying the warmth of her fingers, when she spoke. “What is troubling you? Or do you wish to not speak about it?”

He chewed on his lip, a lot is troubling me, he thought, but how can I talk about the situation that has me so confused with the person who is the cause of the confusion? He shook his head, “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Are you sure?” She glanced at him eyebrow arched. “It might help, and we can talk about things, within reason of course.” She smiled at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she winked at him.

"Is it really that obvious?"

“Yes, I'm afraid it is, at least to me. So," her hand gently squeezed his, "what's the matter?"

He sighed hesitating; unsure what to tell her, where to even begin.

“Unless you truly wish to be left alone to sort things out, I can leave.” She shifted in her seat withdrawing her hand.

With her movement he caught the scent of ozone and herbs on the air, mingled with blaster oil, durasteel and musk. He could still smell himself on her. His hand snaked out grabbing hers. “Stay.” He squeezed her hand holding it while he stared through the table. Stars what the hell was he doing? Let go of her hand; let her go, what exactly do you think you are playing with, he yelled at himself. He looked up at her, she was still watching him her eyebrow arched, curious.

“Why?” he blurted.

“Do you regret my decision?”

What... he shook his head no, “I don't but I don't understand it.”

“Why?”

“I know a Jedi would, but you... a Sith wouldn't save...” he bit his lip watching her, “I can understand a Jedi...” he stared at her, “if you were a … Jedi it …” he silently cursed himself.

“But I did, and I really would make a lousy Jedi,” the corner of her mouth twitch with a repressed smile.

He felt himself shaking. What he watched her do, how she fought, she was lethal, yet she avoided conflict when possible. She was so calm and laid back, quick to smile, he just didn't understand how someone like that could be a Sith. “But you don't act … you don't.”

The twitch became a full smile, “How am I supposed to act?” She leaned towards him, again his senses filled with their intermingled scents. He looked at her, chewing on his bottom lip. His fingers twitched ghosting over the memory of caressed leatheris, his lips warmed remembering hers.

He felt her breath on his cheek, as her fingers slowly ran along the side of his face. When had they gotten so close to each other? Cautiously he ran his fingers through her hair, down the soft skin of her cheek and neck. He realized he was trembling. Why wasn’t she a Jedi, it seemed like such a cruel joke. This would be a lot less surreal if she was a Jedi.

“Are you disappointed in my actions?”

“No,” he shook his head, “but a Jedi...”

“I am Sith,” she whispered, “I could never be anything else.” She kissed his cheek and leaned in her hair brushing his face as she whispered, “Because Jedi,” she pulled back and kissed his other cheek, “don’t follow,” she pulled back again, her green eyes were too close to his, “their passions.” His hand reached up grabbing the back of her head, he forcefully kissed her, his left arm pulling her closer.

He pulled her onto his lap, his mouth refusing to relinquish hers. He growled as he drug his hands along her back. She broke away and he pulled her back his growl louder, he recaptured her mouth, his tongue challenging hers. She pushed herself backwards, grabbing his arms. She leaned back against the table, flushed. Her hands tightened around his wrists pinning them against the chair. He snorted in pain. Her eyes glittered, black orbs ringed in green.

Her grip on his wrists tightened as she leaned forward, he pulled his head away. A low rumbling growl reached his ears as she squeezed tighter. Pain radiated down his arms, he turned his head to the side refusing her. “No,” he gasped as another wave of pain coursed down his arms. She shifted in his lap, fingers digging into his wrists.

He looked at her face, dark icy fingers clawed his stomach, her mouth was set in a determined frown, the eyes that stared back were shining gold. She stared at him; he felt her tense on his lap, muscles tightening. She looked like a nexu stalking its prey, a nexu he had put into his own lap. Again she leaned forward and he moved his head to the side maintaining eye contact. He tried to move his arms, she responded by tightening her grip, he grimaced as bones moved under her fingers. “No,” he breathed, moving his head further away.

The grip loosened slightly. He rolled his head toward her, ignoring the warm breath on his cheek. Fingers moved on his aching wrists, slipping down his arms. He moved his head toward her, her brow knit together as she stared at him. He rolled his wrists and broke his arms out of her grasp. His breath caught in his throat as he reached up cradling her face. “You don't hurt people you like.”

“Hurt,” she murmured, “I didn't...”

He rubbed his thumb along her cheek, “you did you hurt my wrists.”

“I didn't mean to.”

“Don’t know your own strength do you?” He stared at the Sith in his lap, the panicked look in her eyes. The thought occurred to him, how often was a Sith told no? He had a feeling that those who told one no never lived long enough to tell anyone.

He wondered why she looked so panicked, was she afraid he was going to just order her away, leave the cantina, head back to the ship? As he stared he realized he was right, she was afraid he was going to leave and she was just as unsure about what to do as he was.

“Don't hurt me,” he whispered. He rubbed his thumbs over her cheeks as he leaned in and kissed her. She nodded, running her hands along his chest. He grimaced inhaling sharply as he sat up.

She stared at him, “What? What happened?”

He shook his head, “It's okay, it's from earlier.”

“Earlier?" Her eyes narrowed as she gently touched his chest, frowning when he exhaled a snort of pain. "Have you not received medical attention from this morning?”

He shook his head, “No.”

“That...” she trailed off biting her bottom lip. “Do you hurt?”

He shook his head, “I will live, its nothing major.”

Her hands hovered above his chest, unsure where to light. He shifted slightly in the chair when her hands settled on his shoulders, her touch tender. Cautiously she leaned in, lips parted, silently asking. He watched as the gold faded from her eyes. Smiling he slid his arms around her. He gave her a small nod. Her kiss was so gentle it surprised him. “Come with me.” She slid off his lap, offering him her hand. He reached out accepting it, letting her help him to his feet.

She looked up at him, her fingers still claiming his hand, she looked so nervous. He forced his face to remain neutral, knowing he had caused her disconcerted state. He was afraid of disrupting the delicate situation they were in; leaning down he kissed her. "After you," he whispered grabbing his bag and rifle. She turned and gently pulled him along up the stairs and to her room.

The room was spacious; a large bed already turned down graced the middle of the room. Against the far wall was a fireplace, a fire blazing within, the hearth surrounded by a pair of padded chairs and a small table. Bright rugs adorned the floor. When he followed her in she gestured vaguely around the room.

“Just make yourself comfortable.”

He dropped his bag on the floor near the bed and propped the rifle up against the wall. “Where?”

“Wherever.”

He walked up behind her where she stood at the small table a wine bottle and corkscrew in her hands. Gently he brushed her hair off the nape of her neck, bending to kiss the porcelain skin. Nose buried in her hair he inhaled deeply, relishing in the herbs and ozone that filled his senses. Running his hands down her arms he removed and set the corkscrew and bottle on the table.

She turned in his arms, smiling up at him. "Your eyes," he murmured staring at them, gold was encroaching again through the deep green of her irises.

"I'm trying," she whispered, her voice heady.

He picked her up kissing her neck as he carried her across the room setting her on the bed. Her fingers reached up unbuttoning his shirt; cautiously she reached out touching his bruised and battered chest, before sliding his shirt off his arms.

Gently she pulled him onto the bed, her fingers ghosting over his body as she nudged him to lie down. He sank backwards into the soft mattress as she knelt next to him, her glittering eyes scanning his chest.

He watched her intently; she closed her eyes and was slowly enveloped in a swirling red fog. He swallowed a surprised gasp. The fog flowed down her arms as it grew she reached out touching him, laying her hands on his chest. He flinched as the red fog flowed over his fur disappearing as it sank into him. It was warm, tingling as it burned away the pain. The ache in his head blossomed, the soreness in his back flared brightly sending a jolt through his spine as the heat grew. He gritted his teeth rolling his head back into the pillow. The fog's flames grew in intensity burning as they crept along his chest. And then it was gone, the red fog had disappeared along with his injuries.

He patted his chest the painful thick welts were gone. The insistent ache at the base of skull, the soreness in his back, gone. He stared at her eyes wide. She just shrugged and lay down next to him. Running cautious fingers through his chestfur Aric checked again, gone. "How," he whispered.

She ran slow fingers over his now healed side. "The Force."

He waited for her to elaborate but she fell silent her hand running random patterns through his fur. He relaxed under her wandering fingertips, watching manicured fingernails trace and travel the trim musculature of his torso.

"Come here," he growled, rolling toward her, he swung his hip over hers straddling her. His clawed fingertips slid along her shimmersilk shirt, skimming along her chest tracing the musculature and surprisingly soft curves hidden underneath. "I have yet to properly thank you." Gold eyes widened glittering as her lips captured his, kissing him deeply. He growled deep in the back of his throat as he returned her kiss his hands grasping hers. He smiled as he thoroughly enjoyed the taste of her upon his lips and this time there was no one to interrupt them.

~*~

When he woke he was alone, he frowned. Where had she gone? On the table there was a caf carafe, an empty mug and an assortment of fruits, cheeses, breads and little breakfast sausages. He poured himself a still steaming cup of caf and picked up a little sausage.

He noticed out of the corner of his eye the brand new white and blue durasteel breastpiece and backpiece on the floor propped up against the foot of the bed. He stared; absent-mindedly he set the caf mug down as he bent to examine the armor pieces. Attached to the armor was a small handwritten note, penned on an actual piece of paper. Hands shaking, he opened the letter reading the neatly penned script: I do hope you like it. My personal holocommunicator is on the table, programmed to my Interceptor.

He stared at the letter reading and rereading it over and over. He slowly folded the note and set it on the table. Leaning over he hefted the armor up inspecting it, running his hand over the faint, freshly painted over, Imperial emblem on the shoulder and almost dropped it, hidden underneath was a brand new assault cannon. The sleek black weapon was a vast improvement over the one that had been lost. He was afraid to touch it, suddenly very afraid to accept these gifts. Mentally he calculated the cost and sat on the edge of the bed. He was not worth all this fuss. He wasn’t. But how to turn down a gift from a Sith? You don’t and you really don’t want to, but, he mentally chided himself, you need to get back before you are missed.

He slowly got dressed, picking up his clothes off the bed. Pulling on his boots he sat on the edge of the bed staring into space. He reached up to his neck unclasping a gold necklace, it was old, a hand-woven chain, dotted along its length were small stone beads and a clear crystal that looked like a claw. He rubbed the crystal between his fingers, briefly bringing it to his lips to kiss it. Looking around the room he looked for a place to leave it. Next to the bed sat her comb and other personal effects, perfect. He wrapped the chain around the comb.

Aric walked out into the morning light, wearing his armor, heavy leatheris bag and rifle slung over his shoulder as he carried his new cannon, he received a few curious glances but mostly was ignored. When he crossed over the massive covered bridge he entered the main part of the elevated city, the square was alive with vendors hustling their wares. That is when he saw them; he stood hesitating.

Across the way she stood, clothed in her robes, cloaked on either side by her entourage. Her apprentice stood by her left. A huge massive man in black and red durasteel armor covered her right; he recognized the insignia on his arm, Black Ops, that had to be the lieutenant from the holocall. Next to the soldier an azure skinned Twi’lek was looking over blaster modification parts.

He wanted to go to her, to thank her, to say good-bye. The man shifted closer to her as if he knew they were being watched. The soldier looked at the Sith Lord, Kit nodded to him. She turned her head to look at Aric, her face was impassive, completely neutral. His breath caught in his throat, his hand unconsciously went to her comm hidden in his pocket.

The other members of her crew had turned to watch him. The Twi’lek looked amused, her apprentice Jaesa stared at him with the same neutral expression of her Master, the large solider stepped closer to Kit his hand reaching over his shoulder. He radiated concern and protection. Aric drew himself up and squared his shoulders, back rigid he gave a curt nod to the distant Sith Lord. A brief smile played on her lips as she returned it, the motioned echoed by her apprentice, the soldier dropped his hand and the Twi’lek grinned.

He turned and walked though the open market, heading to the covered bridge that would take him into the Republic’s section of the city. As he walked past them he could not help himself, he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. His eyes caught and held hers, she flashed him a quick sad smile, and then he was past her, she was behind him out of his field of vision. He felt her eyes burning on his back as he entered the darkened bridge, he felt her gaze long after they were left behind in the market and he arrived at the Republic shuttle pad.