Havoc Squad's presence couldn't be hidden forever. Poole and his people let the bodies lie where they fell as they cleared to Tech wing room by room and hallway by hallway. It felt good, right, to be storming in and taking care of business. None of this sneaking around. They were Havoc Squad. Havoc happened when they were around.

Poole turned a corner, his blaster rifle raised and ready to do more damage only to find the hallway empty and lifeless. The sudden gap in armed enemies to shoot irked him the closer they got to what they believed to be Livik's command room. There he could hear voices, wordless yelling, blasters being fired. Poole wondered briefly if Jorgan's team had doubled back and were now caught by the enemy. But when Jorgan and Vik stalked out of an adjacent hall, Poole suddenly had a good idea where Doctor Kodrevas was.

“I sent the rescued scientists with Forex. He'll get them back on board the ship and have it waiting to jump,” Jorgan reported quietly.

Poole nodded and motioned them forward. Jorgan immediately crossed the door, taking up position on the other side, auto cannon at the ready. Both he and Poole leaned back as the doors of the command post were blown off their hinges. There was a muffled curse in a female voice and a cruel laugh from a man.

“Your aim is a tad off, Doctor. Put down your weapon and we'll see what we can do about that,” Commander Livik said, his voice oily.

“Eat me, Livik. Your accommodations suck so I think I'm going to take my stuff and go home.” Ipha's voice came from across the room. Poole peeked in to see her hiding behind a computer console taking shots at anything that moved.

“Of course. We have everything we need from your cybernetic core. Put down the guns and we'll return your parts to you. You have my word.”

“I'm rolling my good eye so hard at you right now, I can see my brain,” Ipha scoffed and darted to the side of the console, firing two shots quickly before scooting back into cover.

Livik sighed dramatically. “I don't know what you plan to accomplish, Doctor. You're alone in an Imperial prison.”

“That's Lieutenant Doctor to you. Didn't your mother teach you manners? Oh wait, you're Imperial. You probably didn't know her.”

“You're getting desperate,” Livik said easily. “I can wait you out. I'll have you severely out-manned in a few moments. But in the meantime, we can exchange witty banter.”

Ipha clutched her blaster rifle, her heart racing, head pounding, knowing it was death that came for her. If she didn't get a well aimed grenade onto that computer, nothing was going to matter, the last three days would all be a waste of her life. “Imperial drones have witty banter burned out of them at an early age, Livik. The best you're liable to do is bleed on yourself.”

“By the stars, why in the world would I do that?” Livik asked, sounding genuinely curious. “Now really, cut the bravado, or stupidity, or whatever it is that's driving you to be inane and drop the weapons. I can promise you'll live.”

“Could I take you any less seriously right now?” Ipha sighed. “Now shut up and let's do this.” Ipha readied her last grenade. Now or never. Now or never. Now now now.

Rendrik Poole listened to the exchange, body tense, waiting for the backup Commander Livik had promised. He felt a fierce pride in Kodrevas, despite the fact that he was infuriated at her for complicating the mission. She may have spent the last few years in laboratories but he could tell she was a Republic soldier through and through. If he could have reigned in that crazy stupid mouth of hers, she would be someone he'd be proud to have in Havoc.

Reinforcements turned the corner before Livik and Kodrevas were done grandstanding. Yuun leapt gracefully at the fore-running guards, taking them by surprise. Tanno Vik hefted his weapon, preferring the weight of a swinging techblade to the jerk of an auto cannon. Dorne covered them both and whatever backup Livik thought was coming was taken out of the picture. Poole concentrated on Kodrevas and knew what she was going to do. She had to get the grenade in her hand to the computer console behind Livik. However, she wasn't dying today.

“Havoc Squad says hello!” Poole roared as he rushed the room, Ipha froze with her finger on the detonation. Commander Livik's few surviving guards fell, either succumbing to the flurry of blaster fire or to the enraged Weequay with the giant techblade and a murderous glint in his eye.

Ipha stared for a good three seconds before her brain continued to function and she pushed the grenade onto her belt and stood from hiding, firing her own stolen weapons. The remaining of Livik's men couldn't stand up to the battering force that was the Republic's best specforce squad. Livik himself was cornered by Elara and Jorgan on the far side of the computer console, disarmed, and taken to his knees.

Ipha snapped her jaw shut as the ruckus died down, coming out of her hiding spot with her blaster trained on Livik like he was going leap at her at any second. Wordlessly, she scooted behind Jorgan and went the computer. Jorgan made room for her and watched her peel back the nail of the forefinger of her left hand. She glanced at him, unable to see his face behind the helmet and she looked unsure and a little embarrassed. Jorgan imagined most people found it disturbing that cyberware was embedded just below the surface of her skin. Her left eye socket was empty, her eyelid open but relaxed with nothing behind it. The effect might have been chilling, but the inner part of her socket was lined with laminoid and durasteel with icy blue lights and grooves waiting for her eye to rest in them. Jorgan nodded at her to continue and wondered if she ever felt separate from the rest of her species. He suspected that it was often the way her single green eye searched the blank expanse of his helmet. She thought he was human. She probably thought he was judging her.

Later he couldn't have answered why, but he reached up and removed the protective durasteel helmet from his head, looking at her as he did. He waited for her to look surprised that he wasn't human, but she only relaxed. She looked down the length of his cannon at Command Livik, whose face was unhealthy shade of livid purple. Livik glared at her, his eyes killing her every time he blinked.

Ipha turned her attention back to the computer and worked on slicing into it. She inserted the delicate slim rod in her finger into the system, her brain communicating with the computer's brain even as her free hand danced across the console.

“I only have one free hand,” she said quietly to Jorgan. “Could you light up that screen next to your hip? Give it the command H T four seven six U. And there we go.” A panel opened and a tray slid out, her cybernetics attached to the computer's innards with thin coated wires whose lights alternated red and yellow.

She freed her left hand and took her pieces. Hunching her shoulder, she turned her back towards Jorgan and he was surprised to find himself momentarily hurt. Yuun took Elara's place guarding Livik and she holstered her pistol, crossing in front of Ipha to shield her from Poole and Vik.

“Allow me to help,” Elara said kindly as Ipha felt around the outside of her empty socket.

“Dorne,” Ipha said suddenly. “You're Lieutenant Dorne. Elara right? You wrote that article. Back... well. It feel like 10 years ago now.”

“You are correct,” Elara said, busying herself with lining up the lights and grooves of Ipha's cybernetic eye with the inside of her socket. “It's a pleasure to meet you in person, Doctor Kodrevas.” Elara felt a flush of pride that Ipha had remembered her name.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” Ipha breathed as Elara pushed the eye home. It reset itself, then recalibrated in the space of seconds. Ipha turned to her head and blinked at Jorgan, both eyes that lovely shade of green he had admired. “Hurray. Depth perception.” Ipha fitted the outer cybernetics to her face and slipped something tiny into her left ear. Her head ticked once as everything was recalibrated internally. “Aaaaaand I'm back.”

“Doctor,” Poole said, catching her attention. “I'm Major Rendrik Poole and this is Havoc Squad.” He returned her salute. His eyes and voice hardened as he regarded her as the soldier she was. “Tell me, Lieutenant, how exactly were you planning on making it out of here alive?

“Alive, sir?” Ipha asked. “I wasn't. But thank you for coming for me.” She wiped the computer's data as she spoke, her insides shaking at seeing just how close it had been to decrypting the data she had carried in her core.

Poole watched her work, her hands efficient and fast. He had to admit to himself that he liked what he had seen so far. But they needed to get out of the facility. And before they could do that, they had to deal with Commander Drans Livik.

“End of the line, Commander,” Poole said as he stepped up to the kneeling Imperial.

“You can take me prisoner, but you won't hold me long,” Livik promised.

“No one said anything about taking you prisoner,” Poole pointed out, his voice even and matter of fact. Even as Livik's eyes widened and he sputtered, Poole raised his blaster rifle and shot the Imperial between the eyes. The man's body slumped and fell forward, both Yuun and Jorgan moving away so it wouldn't touch them.

Ipha looked at death and felt something dark and ugly in her chest relax. It hadn't come for her this day. Not yet. She looked up to see the Cathar captain watching her then he gestured and she fell into step beside him. “My comrades, sir?” she asked of her fellow scientists as they moved out.

“On board our ship,” he answered.

“Thank you.”

He glanced at her and nodded and she felt, for the first time since the Imperial troops had stormed her lab, that it was going to be alright. Death was looking away for the moment. It was freeing not to feel the weight of its gaze.

“Lieutenant.” General Garza stood behind her desk, her hands clasped behind her back as she looked Ipha over. “The Republic is very relieved to have you back.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ipha answered.

“I understand Commander Livik will no longer be an issue and the prison facility on Ilum has been taken care of,” Garza said as her gaze turned to Poole.

“Sir. All prisoners were recovered. The facility itself collapsed under the weight of a heavy snow storm. And a few sticks of detonite.”

Garza's smile was so quick it was questionable that it had been there at all. “Understood. Lieutenant Kodrevas, this morning I received your request to return to active duty. I approve. You are hereby returned to duty, effective immediately.”

“Thank you, General.”

“Your first assignment is attachment to Havoc Squad as their Technology and Slicing expert.” Garza paused, allowing Ipha to look surprised, then sheepishly at Yuun. “Sergeant Yuun, you are being promoted to the rank of Lieutenant, effective immediately. You will continue to hold your position as lead technician for Havoc.”

Yuun grated his thanks, his thin shoulders stiff and straight.

“Now,” Garza continued. “I have another assignment for you.”

“Sir,” Poole acknowledged. “We're ready.”

I hope no one finds this a weak ending. Ipha is light sided Republic loving Commando. Poole I played more mercenary, what will you give me dark side. Plus, doing away with Livik in a couple sentences shortened what could have been an ending as long as the rest of the story. I also felt the need to give Ipha purpose in joining Havoc, so extending the olive branch by promoting Yuun felt right. She's not taking his job, more like they'll be working together. She's just built better for slicing, as the circumstances stand.

There is no emotion, there is peace.

Sala-mun closed his eyes as he recited the ancient mantra. He inhaled through his nostrils, his chest slowly expanding as he took a deep breath to calm the ever-rising storm inside him.

Nope, still pissed.

The anger building in him wasn’t dissipating anytime soon. Sala-mun soon found his hands locked behind him as he paced slowly beside the short astromech droid working on the console. Although his rage still roared within, his placid demeanor made him look much more Stoic than he felt. Or at least he hoped it did.

Technology had always been the bane of his calm. He figured technology should always work, and when it didn’t, red lights and a blaring siren should indicate otherwise. Random systems suddenly malfunctioning without so much as a warning or whimper was more vexing than a flight of mynocks at a shipyard.

Jedi were not supposed to hate. But he hated technology failing, which is one of the reasons Sala-mun took such care of his lightsabers. He cleaned and modified his lightsabers on a regular basis, always letting the Force guide him in his selection of focusing crystals and general maintenance of his weapons. Running into Imperials on every one of his last missions required such upkeep, especially when such encounters usually turned hostile. But his diligence nowhere near matched the level of care Sergeant Rusk applied to his assault cannon.

Sala-mun actually found himself impressed by Rusk’s dedication to the military and all that his duty encompassed. The Chagrian was like a machine in cleaning his cannon. He could strip it down, clean it, and reassemble it in 9.8 minutes flat. At least that’s what the alien boasted. Sala-mun didn’t doubt it either as he heard the sergeant at the workstation in the next room, probably cleaning for the third or fourth time.

Unfortunately, Sala-mun had already done his maintenance on both his lightsabers an hour ago. He had no desire to take them apart and reassemble them again just to pass the time. This, of course, lead to his current predicament, allowing his anger to grow by leaps and bounds as he was powerless against the holonet’s refusal to work. He had been ready to contact Master Tol Braga for some time now, and the fact that he still couldn’t only added fuel to his inner fire. The irritation had grown beyond infuriating to a white, hot rage that seemingly rivaled the burning passion of Tatooine’s twin suns.

Footsteps against the metallic floor whisked Sala-mun from his boiling thoughts, and he welcomed the mental reprieve from his darkening ruminations. With Rusk still at the workstation and himself in here with T7-01, Sala-mun knew who it was even before he came in sight.

“So what’s the ETA on the holo being back online?” Doc called as he entered the engine room.

T7-01 whirled his head to face the doctor. It gave a few low-keyed whistles and beeps before returning its head forward and continuing with the repairs.

“The same as when you asked fifteen minutes ago,” Sala-mun replied with a short sideways glance. “T7 is working as fast as he can.” Sala-mun thought he masked his anger well enough. He settled his vision back on the droid, hoping his patience would last just a bit longer.

Doc let out a loud sigh. His patience had clearly run out long ago, and he was not trying to hide his annoyance at the lack of connection with the rest of the civilized galaxy from inside the small starship. “Well can I at least go out and walk around the spaceport for a bit? I’m getting antsy cooped up in here with nothing to do.”

“No,” answer Sala-mun. “As soon as Kira returns, we’re leaving. She’s on her way back as we speak.” Additionally, he didn’t feel like waiting any longer on this ghost-town of a spaceport above what he considered one giant snowy rock in space.

“And how do you know that?” he shot back. The skewed look he got from Sala-mun caused Doc to raise his hands in surrender. “Right. Right. Jedi-Force-Master-Apprentice-thing. I got it.”

“Besides,” said Sala-mun, “I thought you wanted to be away from Hoth as soon as possible.”

“I wanted to be off Hoth as soon as possible. I was cold. Now I’m just bored.” Doc stroked his black moustache with a gloved hand and then began drumming the metal doorframe of the Defender’s fuselage. The repetitive sound soon drew another cold look from Sala-mun, causing Doc to immediately cease his strumming.

“You know,” Doc continued. “This is kinda your fault,” he said as he pointed a finger at Sala-mun and fixed his annoyed stare at the Jedi.

Here we go, thought Sala-mun. Sala-mun turned his vision back to the doorway. “Alright. I’ll bite.”

“Did we really need to rush off and help that patrol in the Drexel Sweep?”

“Those ships needed our help. The Republic contacted us, and we were the only ship that could get to them. There was a need, and we responded. Not much different from you seeing a need for a doctor on Balmorra and joining the resistance, if I recall correctly.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t dive head first into the front lines to grab the attention of every Imp on the planet!” Doc protested. “You got a target painted on this piece of junk? ‘Cuz it seemed like every sith fighter and capital ship was gunning for us.”

T7 beeped a couple of times in response to Doc calling the ship it was working on ‘a piece of junk.’ Doc only stared at the droid, unable to comprehend its strange means of communication, before returning his sights towards Sala-mun.

“I think Kira’s right,” he continued. “Next time, T7 should drive.”

The astromech droid’s head spun back towards its master and sounded off with a series of high pitched beeps.

“Well thanks for the vote of confidence,” Sala-mun said with a half-smile. The conversation was distracting him from his anger, which he decided was a good thing. “At least someone appreciates my flying,” he said, directing his gaze at Doc.

“Hey, I don’t know what those noises translate into. For all I know, the little guy just told you he wants to take her out for a spin.” Doc walked a little further into the engine room and started looking up and down the large thrusters. “He could drive. Rusk could take the guns since, you know, he likes shooting things. And I’ll pick up the slack in maintenance,” he finished on a higher note.

“I got a better idea,” responded Sala-mun. “While don’t I drive since, you know, it’s my ship. And more importantly, we leave the maintenance to those who actually know about the mechanics of a starship, like T7. Anyways, I’d rather not let you tinker with the ship considering what happened the last time you wanted to play mad scientist.”

“That wasn’t that bad,” he answered raising his palms upwards.

“We had to vent and sterilize the entire medical lab after you dropped that vial of Ascom…” Sala-mun began twilrling his right hand, trying in vain to pronounce, much less remember, the contents of the vial.

“Ascomycetous pneumoconiosis spores,” Doc added sheepishly.

“Yes, that, on the floor,” Sala-mun continued with a nod. “The entire med bay was useless for the rest of the day. Luckily we were heading to the Republic Fleet when your accident occurred, so we were able to clean it up rather quickly. Who knows how things might have turned out had we been on some planet in the Outer Rim when your spill happened.”

“Oh c’mon,” Doc began in his usual jubilant and over-confident manner. He flicked both hands at the Jedi knight. “Ol’ Doc had it under complete control.”

Sala-mun only returned a silent stare of disbelief.

“I got out of there just fine. And I vented the lab. Plus…” he added with a higher tone, “Plus, no one died.”

“Thankfully.”

Doc’s face became crossed when the Jedi tried to brush him of with such a terse answer. “I did promise I’ll never do that again.”

“In your mad bid to make a mark on this galaxy, why don’t I believe you? For all I know,” Sala-mun started in imitation of Doc’s previous words, “you’re already cooking up some virus back there that will rival the Rakghoul plague.”

“Totally. Under. Contr...” Doc reassured with calming motion with both hands as he said each word before suddenly freezing, realizing the ramifications of what he just said. “I mean…,” he stammered while rubbing his palms together, “I was just cleaning… my medical tools… and field kit… stuff. It’s really technical. Don’t worry about it,” he finished quickly as he waved off the Jedi.

“So why are you coming in here for what feels like the umpteenth time?” Sala-mun realized he probably need to reign in on his annoyance.

“Well I finished that a while ago. Then I felt like… relaxing on the holonet. Then that suddenly died and put us in our present predicament with really nothing else to do. I mean, I don’t have an assault cannon to clean four times over.”

Their conversation seemed to draw to an end when they both heard the primary airlock open, and Sala-mun felt that familiar aura from his padawan come aboard the ship. Although her light walk made little noise on the hard, metal floor, her boots made a small ring throughout the ship as she made her way towards the stern.

“Hey, boys,” Kira stated with a small smile as she entered the engine room. “Long wait?”

Sala-mun noticed her small devious smile, clearly showing she did not envy those who had remained aboard when the holonet cut out.

“Too long without you here, gorgeous,” Doc responded in his usual charm.

“Yeah. Not long enough, then,” Kira fired back as she looked right past the doctor towards her master. “I take it T7 hasn’t fixed the holo yet?”

Sala-mun opened his mouth to respond, but was suddenly cut short but a trio of gleeful whistles and beeps from the astromech droid before him. T7 whirled his head around towards Sala-mun with a couple more beeps as the console in front of it hummed to life, restoring their holonet connection.

“Perfect timing there, T7,” Sala-mun praised.

“Alright, T7! Way to go!” cheered Kira.

“Finally!” rejoiced Doc as he looked heavenward.

A minor round of chuckles, claps, and beeps rang out around the small engine room, each of the three humans relieved to finally be reconnected to the rest of the galaxy at large. The small celebration slowly died down as another overwhelming noise began to flood into the engine room. Echoing from the hallway was the unmistakable sound of a female humanoid moaning in ecstasy in what seemed like a never ending current of pleasure. The cries of euphoria were met with deathly silence throughout the rest of the ship as Sala-mun even heard Rusk stop working at the station.

Sala-mun, Kira, and T7 all slowly turned their heads in unison towards the frozen doctor staring into nothing.

“Oh,” he said abruptly, like being broken from a trance. “I should probably go get that.”

“And that’s my cue,” Kira chimed. “I’ll be back at the bridge,” she motioned with her thumb behind her, “if you need me, boss.” She side-stepped away from the engine room doorframe to let Doc pass. After the doctor left, she finished her twirl, raised her right hand to cover the right side of her vision and briskly walked towards to the front of the ship.

Sala-mun pressed against both his temples with one hand and slowly shook his lowered head. He dropped his hand down his face before raising his vision back up at the astromech droid waiting patiently at the console. “Good work, T7,” Sala-mun said smiling.

The droid responded in kind with a few elated beeps.

“Yeah, I know.” He looked up towards the doorframe leading out of the engine room. He could feel Doc back at work with his medical tools and toned down holonet connection. Rusk was once again at work with his weapons. And Kira sat calmly at her co-pilot’s chair, still typing away in determination to make the ship’s computer refer to her as master while she awaited instructions from her own. Sala-mun returned his focus to T7. “Seems like everything’s ready. What do you say we get going?”

T7 rocked back and forth, sounding off with a series of happy whistles and beeps. He was probably just as happy as Sala-mun to be off that frozen wasteland and onto their next adventure.

First, I want to thank Elliotcat for starting this up. I've done a very limited amount of fictional writing in my past and wanted to get back into it again. However, this summer I have had a difficult time starting up again, and so this was a nice way to get the creative juices flowing. So thanks!

Second, I have been following this thread for a couple weeks now, and I have really been enjoying the stories showcased here. I wanted to contribute, but none of the prompts really jumped out at me until this week. And so I went crazy with writing again! When I saw the prompt for this week, I had the perfect story in the works and so I just had to add it. The origins of this story happened to me in real life when my internet was pretty much dead for about 3 days (somehow I think I managed to keep it together... for the most part ). So it was actually fairly easy to capture the emotions of my Jedi in this story since it practically mirrored my anger at the situation.

Third, I would definitely label this story as a bit of crack fic, which may or may not actually be part of my character's canon. But it was fun to write all the same. I have my legacy characters planned out and their stories (somewhat) and hope to add it in here along the way with more prompts.

Hope you enjoyed it and look forward to writing some more.

I knew that's what Doc was looking at on the HoloNet. Dirty guy

The grenade blew before she had a chance to react, Mitka was launched into the air and landed ten meters from her original location.

“Cover fire! Dorne, get her out of there!” Jorgan shouted, strong arms holding his assault cannon, he pressed the trigger, sand people dropped in his wake.

Elara Dorne reached her commanding officer, she found her chest armor bent inwards, and a piece of shrapnel had managed to find its way between hip and leg armor. Mitka’s eyes were opened but dazed, not focusing. With quick hands, Elara checked for spinal injuries, satisfied there were none, she wrapped the shrapnel wound and dragged her to the nearest cover she could find, a small alcove in the cliffs.

“Clear sergeant!” M1-4X declared to Aric Jorgan.

Jorgan jogged towards Dorne and Mitka, hefting the cannon onto his back. When he reached the two women, he saw the disgarded and mangled piece of armor. It had saved her life, Mitka would be in a lot of pain, and had earned herself a massive bruise, but her vitals would have been protected. He saw the blood soaked gauze at her hip. His jaw clenched. Mitka herself was writhing in pain, trying her very best not to cry out in pain. He caught Elara’s eye, who nodded towards Mitka.

“Hold her.”

He bent down, put both arms on her shoulders and held her still. “Look at me Lieutenant.” Her hands were at her hip, wanting to pull out the reason behind the pain. Aric grabbed them. “Lieutenant, look at me.” His voice louder, more forceful, her yellow eyes snapped open, wild, and feral. He had seen that look on more than one wounded soldier before.

“Breath” He told her, and she took a deep shuddering breath. Elara took that moment and administered the kolto, a large dose.

When Mitka woke up, it wasn’t in the desert, it was in Havoc squads ship’s med bay. There was no Kolto tank aboard the ship and Anchorhead’s medical facilities had not met with Sergant Dorne’s standards. They were flying to a nearby cruiser with a well stocked Republic regulation medbay, with Kolto Tanks.

Mitka’s head was fuzzy, she moved her hands, they made a strange, wavy trail, she giggled.

“Ah Lieutenant, welcome back. You were thrown and injured by a grenade, we are en route to a suitable medical facility to have your shrapnel wound properly cared for, and for you to spend the necessary time in a Kolto tank. In addition I’ve already requisitioned a Kolto tank for the ship. Considering our operations, I’m surprised we didn’t already have one.”

Mitka considered what Elara had said, nodded sagely “You have pretty hair.”

“How’s your patient Dorne?” Aric ventured into the med bay.

“Conscious, and rather euphoric from the pain killers.” She replied with the hint of a grin on her normally serious face.

“Aric!” Mitka greeted him with a large grin, her yellow eyes blinking lazily. She held out her hand for him to take.

“Hey Lt, how are you feeling?” He gave her his hand, she laced her finger through his, brought it up to her face, and rubbed it to her cheek.

“Oh my stars, you are so soft! Elara touch him! He is so soft! Like velvet, I could snuggle him all day!”

Jorgan’s eye widened, not quite sure what to make of his very high, and rather adorable commanding officer. Elara opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again.

“He kissed me you know!” She told Elara in a rather conspiratorial tone, looked back at Aric, “You kissed me!” She informed him. Aric felt his ears burning.

“His hands are soft, but you should feel his lips, amazing.” Jorgan cleared his throat, intending to interrupt her train of thought.

Elara’s cheeks had gone red, “I should give you some privacy Lieutenant.” She glanced at Jorgan, and furrowed her brow, indicating her disapproval of their fraternization. Jorgan shrugged his shoulders, not sure what to say to the severe by the book medic.

He gently took her hand with his other, sandwiching her small red hand in his, he brushed her fingers with his lips.

“Really? In front of Elara?” he asked her.

“Girl talk” Mitka replied squeezing his hand.

“Excuse me?"

“Mom said I need more girlfriends, she said, you talk about stuff with girlfriends, like hair and boys.”

“Probably not when the boy is in the room”

“I don’t know, I’m new at this stuff…You should kiss me again.” She bit her lower lip, eager for another heart stopping kiss.

Aric couldn’t help but smile.

“Should I now? Why is that?”

“Cause I want you to.” Her yellow eyes blinked, she tried to lean forward, and winced in pain.

Jorgan gently leaned her back against the cot.

“Tell you what, when you’re not high or wounded, I’ll kiss you again.”

“Promise?”

He kissed her hand.

“Promise.”

Mitka closed her eyes, tired suddenly, she smiled, that went well.

There once was a Hutt who swallowed a gorg.

He must have been bored, so he swallowed a gorg.

Now that’s absurd.

There once was a Hutt who ate a womp rat.

Imagine that! He ate a womp rat!

He swallowed the rat to catch the gorg,

He must have been bored when he swallowed the gorg.

Now that’s absurd.

There once was a Hutt who ate a mynock.

Not just the eyestalk, but the whole mynock!

He swallowed the mynock to catch the rat,

He swallowed the rat to catch the gorg,

He must have been bored to swallow that gorg.

That’s quite absurd.

There once was a Hutt who ate a nexu.

But eating a nexu has bad effects on you.

He swallowed the nexu to catch the mynock,

He swallowed the mynock to catch the rat,

He swallowed the rat to catch the gorg,

He must have been bored to swallow the gorg.

Now that’s absurd.

There once was a Hutt who swallowed a reek.

And now for our Hutt things are looking quite bleak.

He swallowed the reek to catch the nexu,

And eating a nexu has bad effects on you.

He swallowed the nexu to catch the mynock,

H swallowed the mynock to catch the rat,

He swallowed the womp rat to catch the gorg.

If he hadn’t been bored, he’d have not ate that gorg.

He can’t be cured.

There once was a Hutt who ate a rancor.

And that was just more than he had room for.

Now he’s bantha fodder.

List of Creatures:

Gorg: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Gorg

Womp Rat: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Womp_rat

Mynock: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Mynock

Nexu: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Nexu

Reek: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Reek

Rancor: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Rancor

she even killed a couple people cause the voice in her head told her to >.>

and as for that fic and it being canon to my toon's life, she forgot about it the next morning, vector never dared bring it up again, and the conversation was brought up again at a more appropriate time. But just the image of him being all confused, remembering how long it's been since he played at the mating game with others outside the hive, and thinking he caused that outburst. It also makes for a good reason why he would back off for the rest of chapter 2, and then approach her in earnest again in his seperated state.

The one time my char freaked out on Vector was in his seperated state.

She threatened to shoot him, then she was all,if I wanted a full human I'd go get one, stupid!

mine was all " DEM EYEZ *drool*" and then realised it probably was a big strain on him, and yeah, she was VERY interested in seeing his reactions to...intimate stimuli after his whole ration bar speech. as for the hive watching, after watcher x, she really didn't care, she saw it more or less like that annoying pet that likes to watch out of curiosity.

Risha is sauntering down the ship corridor and about to pass by the Captain’s quarters when the sound of slightly muffled voices catch her attention.

Eyebrow quirking into one of an unspoken curiosity, the young woman turns her gaze to the closed door that blocks the entry to the Captain’s room. Though the voices are indeed muffled, she can still somewhat make out who they belong to.

The only thing unsettling about it is the actual content she happens to stumble upon them discussing.

“… Cap’n. Please… you gotta go easy on me,” the slightly drawled voice is none other than Corso’s- the near unmarred devotion and obvious worship of all things Dean saturating his pleading tone.

Risha snorts to herself- with the way Corso moons over the Captain, it’s only a wonder how half the galaxy hasn’t already clued in yet to the definite- if currently unnamed –bond between the two men.

“You know you’re wasting your breath right, Riggs?” Dean’s infuriatingly calm voice responds. There is a heavy grunting sound, and then a thud.

Risha’s eyes widen when she hears a low groan being emitted from (most likely) Corso’s throat, before a shuffling noise follows.

This is too good, Risha thinks, even as a part of her feels guilty for eavesdropping. She eyes up and down the corridor to see she’s alone, before moving closer to the door and pressing her ear against it.

“Sooner you surrender, the sooner I can go easy on you.” Dean’s voice is almost always a calm tenor- but Risha can definitely pick up the thick smugness in his voice. “It’s your choice, really.”

“Not gonna happen,” Corso responds, sounding slightly breathy. The shuffling noise is heard again, before the sound of heavy breathing.

“This… is… ridiculous,” Corso grinds out, before another definite moan escapes.

There is another heavy thud.

“If this keeps up, I’m gonna be so sore.” Corso mutters. “I won’t even be useful on the field with me being all cramped up.”

“Practice makes perfect. Here- stop squeezing so tight,” Dean is advising and Risha’s mouth falls open. “Loosen up, and change your position. See? At this angle, I can-"

“Ahhh!” Corso’s gasp does something to Risha, and before she knows it her cheeks are flaring up.

I knew the Captain had it in him, but sheesh. I'm not sure whether to pity or congratulate Corso… Is all that runs through her mind as she straightens to her full height.

Maybe she should leave the men to their privacy after all.

“No fair!” Corso say, sounding breathless after a few moments of silence. “I was unprepared for it. You’re gonna be the death of me!”

“What can I say?” Dean drawls. “I love being on top.”

At this, Risha shakes her head and bolts, wondering if she had been smart to stop and listen in the first place. How she will ever look at her Captain or his Second in Command with a straight face ever again she doesn’t know.

.

.

.

Inside Dean’s quarters, the Epicanthix sits back leisurely in his chair, crossing his arms over his lean chest. His gold eyes watch the man sitting across from him, a flicker of victory lighting his gaze.

For his part, Corso rubs at his hand, sending a half-serious glare at his Captain. His arm aches and it’ll be a miracle if he can use to it to hold a blaster properly for the next few days.

“I swear,” he growls irritably. “One of these days, I am so going to beat you at arm wrestling. Even if it kills me!”

Dean just gives him a dirty grin.