I'm not able to send you anymore PM's for some reason. Was going to respond to you last night about our little project but couldn't. Got a message saying you are choosing not to receive PM's or are no longer able to. Anyways, didn't know where else to get a hold of you. I'll still try and write something up, I just can't reach you on my end.

Maura stood looking over the other patrons in the cantina. This is nice, she thought, to get off the ship with the crew once in a while. They had finished missions on Hoth and needed a little down time, so while the ship was being checked out, they’d been exploring Carrick Station. Tonight, they’d had a belated birthday dinner for Elara Dorne and the party naturally extended to drinking at the cantina. Aric stood to her right, nursing a whiskey, while Tanno was undoubtedly more inebriated, laughing loudly and entertaining the few tables around them. Yuun was smiling at them, at least she thought he was.

Aric moved closer to her, not that she saw him but that she felt that little electric hum she always felt when he was near enough to touch. She had only had a couple of beers, but he was on at least his fourth drink. You can’t tell, she thought. I wonder if Cathar have a high tolerance or if his military training is always present? She turned to him as he was looking her up and down and realized that if they weren’t careful, their whole crew would be wise to the fact that their CO and XO were involved. He moved to close any distance between them and leaned toward her. Is he going to kiss me here, she wondered. Instead, he whispered to her, “Don’t turn around, but your old friend from Coruscant is walking this way.”

“Major! Saving the Republic sure looks good on you!” She turned to greet the voice and saw Jonas Balkar striding toward her, a drink in each hand. “I know I told you I’d buy you a drink someday.” They’d done some missions for him off and on, and he was currently helping them locate an old unit of Aric’s. They’d flirted, back when she thought Aric was never going to accept her as being CO of Havoc Squad, but it had never gone further. She remembered how Aric had reacted to those innocent flirts, too, so she wasn’t surprised when he stepped between her and Jonas as the operative approached them.

“Jonas, how the hell are you?” Aric said in an over loud voice, as he took the drink Jonas was extending to her and placed it on the table. “We haven’t heard from you lately. How are things on Coruscant?” Aric shook the man’s now empty hand. Behind him, Tanno was in a heated discussion with another cantina patron, which appeared to be escalating. Aric turned to look at Maura, then growled low in his throat. “Excuse me, I think I need to escort Vik back to the ship.” He nodded at her, his gaze lingering on her for an extra few seconds before he grabbed the Weequay by his huge arm and hauled him up and out of the cantina, Elara following them.

Maura turned to Jonas and invited him to sit down. They chatted about nothing for a few minutes before Jonas said, “So the big guy finally figured out he was in love with you, eh?”

Maura blushed and looked away, then back and nodded to Jonas. No need to keep up a pretense with him, she thought. “What do you mean, finally? Did you know? Even back when we were doing those missions for you, looking for Tavus?”

He smiled at her, handsome as ever, but now it did nothing for her. “He never stops looking at you, did you know that? When you do what I do, you learn to read people, and he’s pretty easy to read. What about you? Ah, don’t answer that, I see it in your eyes.” He sighed. “I knew I should have asked you out when you were still blind to him. Timing is everything. “ He took a sip of his drink, looking around the room.

Maura didn’t have to look to know that Aric was near, she felt that hum again that she only ever felt from him. “I would have liked that, Jonas, but now it’s just not possible. You understand, right?”

He nodded at her, standing. “I wish you well, Major. Take care of yourself, and your squad. Jorgan is a lucky guy.” He walked away, a little unsteady, and as she followed him with her eyes she spotted Aric walking toward her. Hmm that’s kinda prophetic, she thought. Aric walked with his usual military bearing but she could see the alcohol he’d ingested had him a little off balance. He stopped in front of her with a little bow, extending his hand to her.

She stood and took it, but he seemed to realize what he’d done and dropped his hands to his sides, and instead inclined his head toward the elevator. She nodded and headed that way, wishing he would touch her again. They exited the elevator in the deserted hangar bay, the surrounding ships quiet in the night, and as she stepped forward he grabbed her waist and pulled her against him. Their kiss intensified the hum she was feeling until her senses were scrambled and singing. When he ended it, he touched his forehead to hers, just standing there, holding both her hands in his. A noise from the next hangar had him jumping away from her. In that instant, she didn’t want to be his CO anymore, she just wanted to be with him, but the moment had passed. He gave her a long, hungry look, but turned and slowly walked to the ship’s ramp.

When she walked into the ship herself, all was quiet. She took a quick look around, but saw no one but the droid, who was muttering to himself and doing a diagnostic check. She wandered to the bridge, but didn’t stay long. Disappointed that Aric wasn’t waiting for her and still aroused from that kiss, she slowly walked to her dark quarters, palming the lock to open the door. When she entered, she felt that electric hum play over her, and smiled in the dark.

"Ashari?" Broan stepped into the room, staring at the woman in front of him. A servant closed the door to the holding chamber. Two armed soldiers flanked the door, their guns held tightly against their chests. They realised that if the prisoner tried to escape their armour and bullets would do little to prevent her. Master Ashari sat in her prison, her home of some seven months now, a shadow of her former self. She looked at him, her expression blank and somewhat frightening without her mask. He called her name again, sterner this time.

"Broan? Oh, oh, Broan, what have they done to you?" She cried and reached out to him, her fingers searing against the barrier.

"Look at yourself for once!" Broan felt a small surge of delight as she cringed. He had never raised his voice to her before and had evidently taken her by surprise. "Look at what you have become!" Ashari snarled and all pretence at shock evaporated.

"I have not fallen as low as you," She crawled across the floor, spitting all the while. "I know my vices and my follies, but you? What do you know?" Broan could see a calm fury building within his old master. He was finally starting to understand the extent of Lord Vizloch's game.

"I know that you let some petty vengeance destroy hundreds of lives; you sanctioned the torture of a man, stole a woman's husband and let yourself stumble blindly into the embrace of the Dark Side," Broan paused, taking a deep breath. "You took in a child you had lost his mother and tried to shape him in your own image. A task you failed."

"I knew you could never be a Jedi." Ashari smiled as she said this. Even kneeling in an Imperial prison, property of a Sith Lord, she looked triumphant.

"I never wanted to be a Jedi." He crouched, meeting her eye to blank, eyeless expanse.

"It was Talan's decision; he thought you could become something." She was shaking as she spoke. Ashari was unwittingly letting her emotions take control.

"And you loved him enough to believe him."

"And you love that Imperial whore enough to stay here," Broan flinched as she spoke. Ashar seemed to notice this and continued, emboldened by his discomfort. "What did he promise you? Power? Riches beyond your wildest dreams? Or just a good *********** every night." What little shreds of respect Broan had once had for the woman who had raised him were lost. He hated her and she him.

"Lord Vizloch has yet to decide what she will do with you, but I suspect that she will see you dead. Your daughter, I might add, does well in her training. She takes after you." A change came over Ashari as she heard this. Her caged animal unleashed itself, fury taking over. Broan's brief attempt at smugness was overshadowed by horror.

"You give her back! My daughter, my Madisha - you give her back to me!" Ashari pounded her fists against the shield. Currents of energy rippled away. The smell of burning skin started to fill the room. "I'll rip you apart, you little bastard! Traitorous mongrel! Clean-faced worthless scum! Rootless! You have no roots! You'll waste away in the sun!"

One of the soldiers opened the door for Broan and he slipped out, every word of Ashari's tirade falling on him as physical blow. She had always known just what to say.

I tried to come up with insults that would hurt a Mirialin. These are mostly based on the idea that Mirialin culture reveres their ancestors, so I supposed that knowing one's ancestry would be a big deal, and that Mirialin tattoo their faces with accomplishments. I like to think that Broan didn't grow up in a Mirialin society, didn't know his father and has little in the way of tattoos, and is also very unlikely to get any. Maybe I'll have him grow a dashing goatee or something.

"Blast it," Sana muttered as the holo chimed in the main room. She leaned down and gave her husband a quick hard kiss before she climbed off him and got out of bed. Aric grumbled under his breath, but he too swung his legs off the bed and got up. The two of them swiftly pulled on their uniforms.

Aric patted her bottom as they stepped out of the room. "Later," he murmured in her ear. Sana grinned at him.

"Sorry for the delay, sir," Sana said as she activated the holo and General Garza flickered into sight.

"Indeed," Garza said, displeasure stamped all over her face. She glared at them. Sana kept her face deliberately blank.

"We have a situation," Garza finally said, "Imperials have developed a weaponized form of crollin. In its typical form, crollin is a mild topical pesticide. However, they have developed a much more powerful form that can be made into sticky bombs, pressure mines, and a number of other devices. The results are devastating - any non-plant species in a certain radius is killed. They are manufacturing it on a moon in the Jana'ar system. We sent in a team to infiltrate and destroy the facility, but our operation was compromised. Most team had been killed at last contact."

"Do we know who tipped them off?" Sana asked.

"We've narrowed it down to the participants of a Senate briefing - either the SIS operative who presented the information or one of the Senators on the Security Council."

"My money's on the politicians," Sana said with a curl to her lip.

"The spooks aren't that much better," Aric added.

"Either way, your mission is to find any remaining members of the demolition team and complete their assignment."

"Understood," Sana nodded.

***

"Groka'a na juk," Yuun said, pointing to yet another dead carcass as they cut their way through the thick jungle to the Imperial base.

"They've been testing," Sana said, "Be careful, who knows what they have out here. Dorne, try the short-range com, see if we can pick up any sign of survivors."

Elara quickly tapped in a set of codes that would let any Republic forces in the area with coms know there were friendlies around. She got back a message indicating they'd been understood. "The signal is coming from the northwest quadrant of the facility," she said.

"Alright, let's move out," Sana said.

The base was on lockdown, but it yielded to Havoc Squad's unique mix of abilities and massive firepower without too much fuss. Moving from room to room, Sana's team cleared out the Imperial defenders, heading for the surviving team members. Elara checked the signal every so often, narrowing down the location until they reached a barricaded room on the upper floor. It was rigged with enough explosives that Sana motioned for them to fall back.

"You can come out now, soldier," Sana called out.

"Identify yourself!"

"Major Sana Kaarde of Havoc Squad."

"Kaarde??" A zabrak stepped out from behind the barricade and walked into the light. "Boy am I glad to see you," the former member of Havoc Squad, Vanto Bazren, known as Fuse, said.

"Well this is a surprise," Jorgan said, frowning, "they're letting you out on ops?"

"And Lieutenant Jorgan, wow, the whole team is here." Sana grinned at the look on Fuse's face. For an explosives expert and former Republic traitor, he'd always had a remarkably innocent outlook on things.

"Surely, we are not going to save this traitor," 4X said in disgust.

"Fuse proved that he's back with us," Sana said firmly. Aric lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing. "It's good to see you, Fuse," Sana said with a smile, "we need to get this op done, however."

"Right," Fuse said, clicking into action as he began to dismantle his explosives-covered barricade, "I have all the bombs set except for the ones in the control room. Our cover was blown before we reached it."

"Ok, control room it is," Sana said with a nod. She motioned for the team to move out.

***

"Blast it, the control room is sealed," Sana said, checking the blast door, "Vik?"

"On it, boss," he said, pulling explosives out of his pack.

"You're using the Czerka 48s?" Fuse asked with a frown.

"Yeah, why? You got a better idea, horn boy?" Vik growled.

"It's just that the new AP8 plastic explosive from BlasTech is much more concentrated."

"Hmph." Vik set the bomb and casually flipped the switch. The team moved out of the blast range a bit less casually.

The blast was immediately followed by a hail of blaster bolts through the thick smoke. The fight was over in a matter of minutes. Sana checked the space.

"Vik, Fuse, finish up, we'll clear the path out of here. Double time it back." She motioned for the rest of the team to start back.

"Up for this, horn boy?" Vik mocked.

"Yeah," Fuse said, already heading towards the main control panel.

"Just get it done, Vik," Sana said.

"Sure thing boss," Vik said, watching Fuse suspiciously.

***

Sana's team had nearly reached the shuttle when her comm clicked on. "Boss, we got a problem."

Sana frowned at the strain should could hear in Vik's voice over the comm. "What is it?"

"Triggered one of those sticky toxin mines. It's gonna blow in about 30 seconds. You gotta order Fuse out of here. Idiot won't leave."

Sana looked over and caught Aric's eyes. "Can you diffuse it?"

"Don't think so...I told you, get moving!!"

"Fuse?" Sana asked, "Can you get clear?" Elara raised her hand to cover her mouth as she listened in horror.

"Not leaving," Sana heard through Vik's com.

"Work fast then." Sana held her breath as faint sounds came through the comm.

"That's a G8-X triggering device, you can't short..." Vik's gutteral voice was harsher than normal, "Oh...uh...boss?"

"What's going on?" Sana demanded.

"Fuse took out the bomb. He's...he's not too bad with this stuff."

Air flooded Sana's lungs as she started breathing again. "Get back to the ship, ASAP."

"Sure thing, boss."

***

Sana nodded to Vik and Fuse as they made it into the ship.

"Take us out of here, Yuun," she called up to the bridge. The airlock sealed shut and the thrusters pushed them off the surface of the moon.

"Explosives charged and ready," Fuse said, fingers poised over the remote detonation controls.

"Take them out," Sana said.

Fuse quickly tapped in the code sequence, and they all watched as a perfectly timed series of explosions demolished the facility.

"That's it, folks," Sana said, standing and stretching.

"Good work," Elara said to Fuse, giving him a nod of approval.

"Oh, yeah, thanks," he said, glancing nervously at Elara and then back at the detonation controls, "just glad to help."

"You might have been killed, staying to help Sergeant Vik," she said with a curious tilt to her head, "That was very brave of you."

"I...uh...thank you," Fuse stammered. A faint rosiness lit his cheeks.

"You could have left him, and yet you stayed," Elara said, "Why?"

"That wouldn't have been right," Fuse said, shaking his head.

"Odd statement from a traitor," Jorgan said from across the room. Sana sighed.

Elara scowled at Jorgan, "Sometimes our conscience dictates our actions, Lieutenant. Sergeant Bazren made a mistake. Surely it is time to forgive him."

"Sir," Fuse said quietly to Jorgan as he stood and took a step toward him, "Every day I wish I had made a different choice on Ord Mantell. The Senate had left us to die, but I was naive to think the Empire would be better. The galaxy isn't as black and white as I once thought."

Jorgan was silent for a moment as he searched Fuse's earnest face. "For what it's worth," Jorgan finally said, "your team isn't the only one the Republic has betrayed."

"Who..." Fuse started to ask, but stopped at Sana's quick shake of the head. "I'm sorry to hear that, sir," he said simply and with obvious sincerity.

"Yeah, well," Jorgan said, quickly stowing his gear in the locker, "point is, there's more to the Republic than Senators and SIS spooks. Can't forget that."

Fuse met Jorgan's eyes directly, "I never will again."

***

Sana poked her head into the briefing room where Fuse was sitting in one of the back rows. 4X had refused to share space with a traitor so the room was empty.

"You've got a good team here, Major," Fuse said quietly, looking around the neat, functional room, "I only wish I could have been a part of it."

"Me too, Fuse," Sana said, walking in and propping a hip against one of the chairs, "If Garza ever reinstates you as a member of Havoc Squad, I certainly won't say no."

"I appreciate that, sir."

"Jorgan, Vik, and I are heading down to the Dealer's Den for a drink later. Why don't you come along?"

"Well, uh, sir, Ela...I mean, Sergeant Dorne and I are going to meet for dinner, so..." Fuse blushed and nervously shifted in his chair.

Sana smothered a grin, but she could still feel her lips twitching. "Very well. Enjoy yourself. That's an order." She winked.

A smile spread across Fuse's face, "Yes, sir!"

"Dismissed," Sana said with a smile.

Yuun's language bit there is made up as are all the names of the explosives and the pesticide. And I really want Fuse back on Havoc Squad!!!

The lift door opened, and it was empty. Kirya released a breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. She and Valden stepped into the elevator and she selected the top floor. The doors closed and it began its ascent. Kirya leaned on one of the exterior rails looking out at the scenery. The lift was the kind on the exterior of the building, all of it windows so as to provide an uninterrupted view of Nar Shaddaa’s glorious lights. It was supposed to be impressive. Or at least touristy. Kirya always figured it was because an elevator took up valuable real estate inside the building. Air surrounding the building, even on this planet, was still free.

Valden stood still in the center of the lift, watching the numbers increase on the counter, “Relax, Kirya,” he said.

Kirya sighed, “I can’t relax. I’m still not sure this is a good idea.”

“It’ll be fine,” Valden assured her.

Kirya turned around and folded her arms, “No it won’t. My last attempt to deal with him got me into this jam in the first place. I say let sleeping rancors lie.”

Valden looked over his shoulder at her, “Except he’s not exactly sleeping anymore, is he?”

“No,” she acknowledged.

Valden turned to her and held her shoulders in a gentle grip, “Look, you said you wanted to hire someone to take care of Rixik, but you didn’t know who to contact. I said I could help. So let me help, all right?”

Her lip twisted in a half-grimace, “Yeah. I notice you went civvy for this. How do I know your guy is trustworthy?”

“He’s not called ‘the Honorable’ for nothing,” replied Valden, “Honor’s a big thing with him.”

“And the uniform?”

Valden turned back to the level counter, “A Major in the Republic Special Forces can’t be seen hiring a bounty hunter. The ‘net would have a field day. That’s all.”

Kirya snorted, “And you’d lose your security clearance,” she said.

“You let me worry about that,” Valden said, “just relax.”

The lift opened on the top floor of the building. A pretty, blue-skinned Twi’lek woman greeted them at the door. A silvery name display clip on her blouse read ‘Leeta’. “Welcome to Above it All,” she enthused, “Two for dinner?” she asked.

“We’re meeting someone,” said Valden, “Human named Andalar. Is he here yet?”

“Let me check for you, sir,” she said. She consulted a tiny display on her wrist, “Yes, he is. Would you like to join him right away, or would you care for drinks in the bar first?”

“We’d like to join him, thank you,” replied Valden.

“Excellent. If you’ll both follow me, please,” she said. Leeta led the way through the restaurant. It was nighttime, and the lights inside were low. Not the kind of creepy, too-dim-to-see-the-stains kind of lighting common on the lower levels, but pleasant-low, so as to not distract you from your companions. Diners sat at tables separated from one another by barely-tinted polysilicate, allowing privacy from the other guests but not blocking the panoramic view of Nar Shaddaa through the continuous exterior windows. From this height, the city’s garish neon didn’t look quite so tacky. In a way, it was almost beautiful.

They passed a band of Bith playing mellow jatz-wail on antique instruments. Andalar’s table backed up against a bussing station, one of the few opaque walls in the space. Hardly a prime spot. Andalar stood as they approached, a tall man built like a load-lifter, his wiry hair short and mostly white. He took Valden’s hand in a strong grip then pulled him into a bear hug.

“So, little brother, what brings you to Nar Shadaa?” he asked, releasing Valden.

Valden clapped his brother’s shoulder, “Calling in a favor for my friend, here,” he said, “Andalar, this is Kirya Bilali, and she may have a job you’d be interested in.” he turned to Kirya, “Kirya, my brother, Andalar.”

Kirya blinked, “Wait a minute, your brother is a bounty hunter?”

“Andalar Greyson,” said Andalar, putting out his hand.

“Valden’s…brother,” Kirya repeated. Numbly, she shook his hand.

“Yes,” said Andalar, “you know, male relative, shares the same parents?” he said with a slight smile, “Usually grow up together? How’s Dad, by the way? Does he know you’re here?” he asked, turning his attention to Valden.

“I didn’t mention it,” said Valden, “Didn’t really want word getting around. You know the kind of headaches I have every time they run background checks.”

“No, because I like being independent,” said Andalar. “Since we’re discussing information, let me introduce my associate, Haraz. If it’s recorded somewhere, she’ll find it.”

A dark-skinned woman rose from her seat. Her hair was nearly black, held back from her face with an elaborate comb. Cybernetics filled her eye sockets, and more implants studded her forehead and disappeared under her hair. “Pleased to meet you,” she said.

Valden frowned, “I didn’t expect anyone else, Andalar.”

“She’s with me,” Andalar said, “You said this was about a job, I need my crew.”

“I am the soul of discretion,” Haraz said, placing one hand over her heart and bowing slightly, “Andalar would tolerate nothing less.” As she moved, the light reflected off more subtle cybernetics lining her jaw.

Valden cocked one eyebrow, “Alderaanian?” he asked.

“Why, yes. I’m flattered,” she said with a smile, “formerly House Rist.”

Kirya broke in, “Isn’t Rist all assassins and poisoners and all sorts of nasty people?” she asked.

Valden’s expression remained neutral, “That doesn’t much help your credentials.”

“House Rist does indeed have that reputation,” acknowledged Haraz, “but just as in the Republic military, not all soldiers serve on the front lines. My business is information, and always was. Between your brother cutting a swath through House Rist and the fall of Ulgo, there’s not much left for me on Alderaan.”

“She’s with me, Valden,” repeated Andalar, “I’ll vouch for her. Have a seat,” he said, indicating the remaining chairs.

Andalar and Haraz already claimed the pair against the opaque wall, leaving the other two for Valden and Kirya. “I notice you took the best seats,” groused Valden.

“I got here first,” Andalar retorted. There was a gleam of amusement in his eye.

“Then you’re on hook for the tab,” said Valden.

“Hey—“ Andalar protested.

“You got here first,” repeated Valden, “You think a grunt like me makes a lot of credits?”

“Ha!” Andalar barked a laugh, “Oh, fine, fine. I’ll add it to your friend’s bill,” he grumbled.

“Now wait a minute here—“ started Kirya.

Andalar waved his hand, “Relax, I’m kidding. Order something, we can discuss the job after some real food.”

The meal was decent enough. The kind of almost-gourmet food served at a tourist spot. Exotic enough so visitors could go home bragging about the ‘interesting cuisine’ they’d sampled on holiday, but not so exotic they’d return it to the kitchen. After months of low-budget, flash-dried, meal-in-a-bar gunk though, it was wonderful.

Andalar waited until dessert was cleared and the after-dinner drinks arrived to broach the subject of Kirya’s job. “So,” he began, “Valden didn’t say much over the holo. How about you fill me in?” he said.

Kirya set her fizzy blue drink down. Her back went stiff and she took a deep breath, “It’s my…husband,” she said.

“Your first husband,” confirmed Andalar. Kirya stared at him, a horrified look on her face. “I did a little bit of research before arrival,” he said, “Wanted to know what I was getting into. Everyone’s got troubles, Kirya,” he said, his voice calm and reassuring, “it’s what you’re willing to do to solve them that makes a difference.”

“Or what you’re willing to pay,” she said flatly.

“That too,” replied Andalar, “go on.”

“Ah, okay. Yeah, my first husband,” she said, “Slimy, no-good jerk named Jesp Rixik. I…I haven’t seen him in years. Didn’t want to, either.”

“He showed up on Hoth and tried to cash in on Rogun’s bounty,” said Valden.

“Let her tell it,” said Andalar with a nod. “You have a holo of him? Or a flimsy?” he asked.

Kirya dug a ratty flimsiplast sheet out of her pocket and passed it to Andalar, “It’s old, but he hasn’t changed much.”

Andalar examined the picture, “I know him. By reputation,” he said at last.

“You do?” exclaimed Kirya.

“Not many Twi’leks in my line of business,” said Andalar, “and anyone ambitious stands out. He’s both.” He handed the sheet back to Kirya, who folded it away, “And he’s a slime, I agree with you. Gives hunters a bad name. What do you want to do about him?”

Kirya blinked, “I, umm, I thought you’d handle it from here.”

“Depends on what you want,” said Andalar. “You want him dead, carbon-frozen, what? I don’t go for any sort of lengthy, make-him-suffer kind of stuff, so that’s off the table.”

“Dead,” said Valden.

“You’re not my client,” snapped Andalar, “she is. What do you want to do about him?” he reiterated.

“I want,” Kirya paused, rolling her eyes, “This was so much easier when he was shooting at me. I wanted him dead, then. But now, discussing it over drinks…” she waved her hands, “It seems so cold, so callous. To pay someone to...kill him for me. I just want him to leave me alone.”

Haraz set a glass of wine on the table, “Carbon-freeze has all the benefits of death, with the advantage of being reversible,” she said, “should you change your mind later.”

Kirya shuddered, “I don’t want to be haul around a block of carbonite with my ex-husband in it. That’s just creepy.”

“Put it in storage,” Haraz suggested.

Andalar put a hand on her shoulder, “How about you start a trace, Haraz,” he said. She acknowledged the request with a tip of her head and consulted a minicomp. “But he’s not likely to leave you alone. Not with the kind or price you’re carrying. And before you ask,” he said, “you can’t afford to take out Rogun. Not even both of you together.”

Valden leaned forward, “I bet we could,” he said.

Andalar laughed, “Normally, I’d say something like ‘you and whose army’ about now, but I already know the answer to that. No, I meant that you can’t pay me enough to go after Rogun. Guy’s a sleaze, all right, but you’d never afford my rates for a job like that.”

Haraz looked up from her minicomp, “Not to mention the power vacuum he’d leave,” she said.

“Hmm,” mused Andalar, “You wouldn’t be able to swoop in absorb his people. Not all of them. You don’t have the reputation to pull that off. And I’m not sure I’d be inclined to help even if you did.”

“Thanks,” mumbled Kirya.

Valden rubbed condensation from his glass, “His lieutenants would fall to infighting. It’d be a bloodbath.”

“Year or so ago, no big deal. Today? With the situation between the Republic and the Empire? They’d both descend on the independents like womp rats on a dead dewback,” said Andalar, “Pardon me if I refuse.”

Kirya drained her drink, “So I guess that still leaves ‘dead’ or ‘carbon-freeze’,” she said.

“Pretty much,” agreed Andalar.

Kirya slid her empty glass around in the puddle of water left on the table for a while. “I don’t suppose you could arrange for him to get put in an Imperial prison or something,” she asked.

“Not likely. Not really my line of work. Valden might have better luck there,” said Andalar, “Republic prison, though.”

Kirya slid the glass around some more, “Dead,” she said finally, “anything else is just postponing the inevitable.”

“Dead it is, then,” said Andalar, “I’ll forward the paperwork to your holofrequency. I’ll start on your contract as soon as you approve the terms and the fee.”

“And the fee is?” she asked.

“It’ll be in the contract,” said Andalar, “You can always say no. Or change the terms. Pretty much anytime up to completion, though you’ll still be on the hook for expenses if you wait too long to cancel.”

“Yeah. Figured,” said Kirya. “Come on, Valden, let’s go,” she said, rising.

“Good seeing you, big brother,” said Valden, “and thanks.” He stood and shook Andalar’s hand.

“And you,” agreed Andalar, rising with his brother and taking Valden’s hand in a firm grip. Valden let go first, and proceeded to leave the restaurant with Kirya. Andalar regained his seat and watched them go. At last the lift door closed on them. Andalar leaned back in his seat and tipped his head at Haraz, “House Rist? Really?” he asked.

“Rist is unsavory. Admitting the connection when I could have hidden it gives him potential leverage. It suggests I trust him because I trust you and he is your brother. He will verify my story,” said Haraz, “he will find what I left for him to find, and it will satisfy him.”

“You give me headaches sometimes,” Andalar said. He tapped his fingers, “So, what do you think?” he asked.

Haraz set her minicomp down. Her brown skin went several shades darker before returning to its natural deep blue hue, her hair to indigo black. The cybernetics on her face resolved as a set of enhancement goggles. She removed them and tossed them on the table, revealing solid red eyes with no visible iris or pupil. “Voice stress patterns and subcutaneous capillary dilation factors are consistent. They’re telling the truth. It’s an honest job, just as they presented it. No games.” Her Basic flowed with Imperial cadence and pronunciation now. “None that I can detect, at any rate. If he’s masking his responses, it’s not chemical. Could be training, I suppose.”

Andalar sipped his drink, “You’re being paranoid. Valden may be many things, but an idiot is not one of them.”

Haraz rolled her shoulders, “He is in the Republic Army.”

Andalar snorted, “Other than that. People in vaccsuits shouldn’t play darts, Sha’ra’zaed.”

“True enough,” she agreed.

“He knows better than to bring me something sketchy,” continued Andalar.

“And yet, you wanted assurance,” Sha’ra’zaed quipped.

“Been hanging around you too long,” he said, “Which reminds me. You cause any problems for him, you or your people, and you’ll answer to me.”

“Are you insane?” asked Sha’ra’zaed, “Word gets around that I shared a table with a Republic Special Forces Major, and my troubles start with losing my security clearance.”

Haraz/Sha’ra’zaed is my agent.

I realise you did it for "time constraints", but I don't think that Sha'ra'zaed would have turned off her people-camo in the middle of a restaurant like that. Good reveal, though.

September, 16 ATC – five years after the confirmation of the Wrath

Malavai Quinn was thirty-five years old, a colonel in the Imperial Army, and in a very bad mood.

The Chiss agent Wynston had just walked into his briefing room. “What a happy coincidence,” Wynston said dryly. “I wondered whether you were working in the area.”

“Spare me. As soon as Major Carrick’s team arrives, you can brief us and you can leave.” Quinn stood by one wall and glared at it.

Wynston settled at the conference room table and swung his feet up to rest on the next chair over. “How’s the Wrath? She’s miserable, thanks for asking.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“You were wondering. And I can tell you she’s having a rough time of it. Certain issues lately made me think of you. So I wanted to talk. For old times’ sake.” Wynston briefly fiddled with his jacket collar. “It was really touch and go for a few years, you know. I thought she might give up entirely, just dedicate her life to recreational slaughter.”

“She would never fall to that.”

“What can you possibly know? She’s changed a great deal, these last few years. It isn’t that much further to fall. When I first met her, she was a wide-eyed innocent.” Wynston crossed his arms over his chest and looked up at the officer. “And then you got to her. You and your little stunt.”

Quinn kept staring at the wall. “If we must go over this. The Sith don’t graduate innocents. She wasn’t a child in need of protection.”

“She was a teenager, Quinn.”

“She wasn’t too young for you.”

“The worst I gave her was pleasant memories and dance lessons. What was your contribution?”

“Victory. The beginnings of the career that she carries in triumph to this day. I gave her Taris. Legends on Tatooine. Well-guarded secrets on Alderaan. You recall that? The operation where your blind stumbling nearly got her killed and I had to finish your mission in addition to my own?”

“Do try to remember that this is about Ruth, not your precious mission, and that those are two separate entities. Did you really look at that beautiful, vibrant, passionate young woman and think nothing but ‘Yes, this one will be a good worker’?”

“Did you look at that driven, powerful, iron-willed Sith and think nothing but ‘Yes, this one will be a good lay’?”

“No. I understood she was a whole person. On the job and off. Did you care whether she was happy? Did you even look?”

“Every day. Where were you?”

“Out getting the job done without destroying the people who trusted me most in the process.”

“That’s easy for a man no one trusts to begin with.”

“I only have to overcome my skin color. You have to overcome your own recorded actions, not to mention the personality. I only wish I had been there to see her put that shock collar on you.”

“How sad, then, that you weren’t in her life at the time.”

“Are you proud that you were when the time came to betray her?”

Quinn took a moment to put together a reply. “Is this where you of all people lecture me on the evils of getting involved with women you meet on the mission?”

“I don’t recall marrying…I don’t recall leading any of my marks to believe I wholly belonged to them.”

“I don’t recall calling any of my sexual partners ‘marks.’”

“No, ‘Ruth’ was identifier enough. Do one thing, do her well, is that it? It worked up until you failed at the execution...so actually, it didn’t work at all, except to simultaneously enrage my friend and break her spirit. Great job.”

“’Friend’? That’s less than convincing. I don't suppose all this anger is due to the fact that she is no longer receptive to your advances?”

“I’m angry because I care. I care about the girl I knew before you put your hands on her and I still care about the cold paranoid killer you made her into, and the only reason that marvelous hair of yours doesn’t have a point-blank blaster burn in it right now is that she ordered me to spare you.”

“I don’t suppose she asked you to spare me your attempts at conversation, too?”

“No, I’m free to talk. If you wish to correct that oversight in her command, ask her yourself.” Wynston paused. “Or, since for some reason she won’t take your calls, you could have me pass your request along next time I see her. Speaking of which, she tells me you’ve stepped up the visitation schedule with Rylon. Would you happen to know his favorite Rodian lok-shell flavor? I’ve been meaning to bring some by.”

“Don’t you dare use my son against me.”

“You started it. It wasn’t Ruth’s staff that taught him ‘Yuck, Chiss’ as the reaction to blue skin.”

A half-smile escaped Quinn’s control before he got back to scowling. “Perhaps he’s just naturally discerning.”

“Perhaps you’re full of sh*t. As you always have been.”

“I don’t have to justify myself to you, but I will say that I loved her more than you can comprehend. Nevertheless, when the order came, I was capable of placing my loyalties above my appetites.”

“Oh? Let me get this straight. You can love more than me, and you can be more loyal than me, but somehow I’m the only one here who hasn't tried to murder his wife.”

“Do you have the faintest idea what it is to serve a duty greater than yourself and your own pleasures? To pay any price that that duty requires of you?”

Wynston’s eyes were a steady red glow. “When the price of the mission got too high, I defined a new mission. Maybe I’m not the expert on integrity, but I’ve never lost sight of what’s worth fighting for, and that includes my friends. And the women I’ve loved.”

“All however many of them there have been, if you even know the count. And then you remember to salvage the greater good afterwards, is that it? After we’ve all had our fill of partying? A man like you would never understand what I gave up that day.”

“I know what you took from her.”

“Don’t imagine you are unique in that knowledge.” Quinn finally turned away from the wall. He gave Wynston a long harsh look before speaking again. “Did you come here to make me feel guilty? Tell me you’ve never wrecked someone’s life in pursuit of our Empire’s mission. Tell me, agent, you’ve never killed someone who cared for you. Tell me you’ve never broken trust. Tell me you’ve never had to look at a woman and choose whether to break her heart or her neck first.” He laid a hand on the blaster at his side. “Tell me you’re better than I am, so I can report that you died as you lived: with a lie on your lips.”

Wynston didn’t move. He only tensed. He sat, expressionless, and watched Quinn. There was more of hatred than of pain on the officer’s face, but not by much.

A moment later Quinn let his hand fall. “So, you can be made to shut up. Good. Now, I could describe how I negotiated, pled, fought, and bled for your friend - my wife - but I doubt it makes any difference to you. I could say there is an apology to be made to her, but I won't give you the satisfaction of hearing it.” He started toward Wynston at a measured pace. “I could start a fight, but I am aware that your death would likely destabilize the Wrath further. Much more so if you die by my hand.” He stopped, leaning over the seated Chiss to meet his gaze, blue against red. “But listen closely. I know your name. I know your associates. I know your history, and

I know you aren’t working for the Dark Council.

I would be very careful if I were you, Wynston. Because I am eager for an excuse to explore these facts. And so long as Ruth’s mercy holds, you can’t touch me.”

Wynston stared up at him and laughed softly. “Bravo, Quinn. We really do have a lot in common. Enough to make me sick. But for all the secrets you know – and for all I know about you – Ruth wants me alive as well.”

“She wishes to protect you, yes. But my long and faithful service to the Empire yields me other means of recourse. I can leave the question of your life or death to my superiors. Even if you, even if she tries to stop me.” He straightened and backed off a step. “Don’t come after me again. And stay away from my son.”

I dislike chivalry-fests and the women who inspire them, but I do love to see these two hate each other, and as the reason they met Ruth ends up being a very common excuse. This is all less about her and any virtue she has or doesn’t have, and more about the perpetual pissing contest between these two.

I made the restaurant dim on purpose, and chose her camo so it wasn't too far off from her natural coloring, so the change would be less obvious. I was thinking in terms of 'what would be dramatic if this were a movie or a cutscene' rather than a novel. It was also getting really long--and it wasn't supposed to be. I imagined this whole scene to be maybe a couple of pages, and then the characters kept talking. I probably should have written Sha'ra'zaed and Andalar out to the elevator and dissolved it then.

Mother and daughter chattered excitedly, while keeping an eye on Corso, who eyed every object and person on the Phantom class ship with paranoia. His in-laws were imps. His mother-in-law was an imp SPY. Every object, every person must be hiding a secret, evil, deadly aspect. Bugs, booby traps, recording equipment, horrific mutations kept in the biochem bay. Did something small skitter quickly along the floor in the corner on his vision? How did such a sweet, compassionate, lovely woman like his wife grow up living with imp spies?!

" Babes... what on earth are you doing?" Teumessia finally spoke up and asked her husband. " Nothing here is going to bite. Dad's bug-buddies might nibble you a little, but they are just trying to groom the dead skin and excess oils off you. They always left my cuticles immaculate!~"

".....Bug....buddies.....?"

" Yeah, they're quite fun to watch when you accidentally spill food on the floor!" Teumessia brought two fingers to her lips, and let out a whistle. From around a corner came a small cloud of buzzing and skittering insects, ranging in size from fruit flies, to the point where the body was comparable to a grown man's thumb.

This was when the entire ship- nay, the entire space dock, learned that the dashing, courageous, rugged farmboy was afraid of bugs.

With an unflattering screech, he turned and ran into the engine room, and right into SCORPIO. She regarded him blankly as he regained his composure, and his wife and mother-in-law caught up to him. She turned to look at Teumessia, scrutinising every little change in the young chiss since the last time she saw her.

" As your mother did, you chose a human as a mate. Interesting. You should hope any offspring you two produce do not exhibit such psychological weakness so readily. " She gave one more look to each the man and wife, and having finished her observations, went back to idly leaning back and cruising the holonet.

" There was a commotion, the fingerlings chime of a new scent. We take it our guest has arrived?" A tall, dark haired man walked in the room, the small pack of insects chattered and clambered up the back of his robes and perched on his shoulders. " We apologise. Vector Hyllus." He bowed to Corso, the tiny insects clinging on to the fabric of his robe in order to stay on. He looked up to see Corso clinging to the wall furthest away from him, shuddering, eyes fixed on the pack of passengers that he bore. Understandingly he closed his eyes for several moments, and immediately the mini killik swarm skittered off of him, out the door, and back to some quiet corner of the ship. Corso sheepishly whispered his thanks, and shook his father-in-laws hand, trying not to look too uneasy by the solid black eyes, and odd speech patterns.

" Okay guys, i just got a call from Temple, she's finished cooking dinner for everyone." Crezelle cheerfully interrupted.

" Hope you like mandalorian, Temple just loves the recipies she gets from my older daughter's husband. It's a bit harsh on my dear honeybee's sensitive taste and smell, but he's a fighter none the less." She grinned at corso " Let's see if you can handle her cooking too~" She smiled as Corso puffed up indignantly. An easy challenge to take his mind off being afraid of everything, she just questioned his mojo in comparison to her husband's.

to KALIYO: Look, I hate you and everything you stand for, but how's about every time I've had a rough day and attempted to drown my sorrows in cheap gin, I call you up, we kill a lot of people, then see where the night takes us. In the morning I'll hate myself even more. And blame Quinn.

to VECTOR: I've always admired you, y'know. Apart from where the day we met you stabbed House Cortess in the back, or tried to, because you were secretly more interested in what the Killiks weren't telling us they wanted. You're so wonderful otherwise. So wonderful, and then SHANK, turns out you're still tied up with your other employer. I hate you. I blame Quinn.

to LOKIN: Well, at least I can smell your untrustworthiness from three parsecs away. You don't care about anyone but yourself, and you're...not honest, but also not denying that...which is kind of admirable? Instruct me in the ways of being a scheming selfish jerk, because it seems that that's what gets things done in this galaxy. Lesson courtesy of Quinn.

to TEMPLE: See aforementioned Imperial fervor and puppies. You can satisfy me like Quinn never could, and I'll probably break my silence toward him to tell him so. I mean, puppies. He never wanted to save puppies with me.

to SCORPIO: Please stop conducting ultrasounds while we're making out. Yes, I noticed, yes, the baby's still there, and no, I don't want you to have a comprehensive analysis of his probable weaknesses stored in your databanks.

" But...but we sided with the agent immediately when we knew we could not accommodate both respective parties....? Wait why are we digging ourself a bigger hole...Wait...did you say you love puppies? WE LOVE puppies

Also, we did not get to see your receptiveness to your twilek assistant. Those lekkus could make you sing some intrigueing songs... Don't look at us like that agent, we still think like any human man!"

The Jedi Temple was an awe-inspiring place, and even teeming with people, it seemed oddly peaceful. Mitka couldn't help but let her nervousness over her mission dissipate as she stepped into a small meeting room with a high ceiling and painted walls. If she'd had time, she would have lingered to fully appreciate the beauty of the building, but for now, there wasn't time.

Mitka pressed the "talk" button on her holo and watched the familiar image appear. "General? I'm here."

"Glad to hear it," Garza said. "I've just heard from the Council. They are concerned about your mission and are requesting that you bring a Jedi Master along with you."

Mitka bristled a little. "Like...a chaperone?"

"Not exactly. They're concerned that a non-Force user may find simply being on the planet to be difficult. The Force is very strong on Tython, and you'll benefit from someone who can navigate it." Garza paused for a moment, then lowered her voice some. "They've assigned to aid you a woman named Meyali Cardani. I'll warn you, she has a reputation for being somewhat...difficult. However, I've arranged a replacement for Sergeant Dorne who is especially well-suited to deal with her."

Mitka frowned slightly. Two people she didn't know were coming on this mission with her? She fervently wished that Dorne hadn't been injured.

"You'll rendezvous in the temple cantina once Master Cardani arrives. Ask the barkeep for chamaa sirara."

Mitka turned the Huttese words over in her mind. "'Little Scorpion'?"

"An alias." Garza gave her a small smile. "I should go. Master Cardani is on her way to meet you. I wish you the best." She severed the connection.

Garza's image had barely disappeared when a tall, green-skinned woman swept into the room. She wore a Jedi's long brown robes and had her black hair done up with a comb. She was probably around forty, but she was strikingly beautiful. She gave Mitka a sidelong glance, but didn't make eye contact.

"You must be the person I'm supposed to meet," she said in a low, lilting voice.

"Master Cardani?" Mitka asked hesitantly.

She nodded and turned her head to look at Mitka. Her eyes ran over her body appraisingly, like Mitka was a dress she was deciding whether or not to buy. She turned away, gave a little sigh, and said, "You should know I don't condone this."

"I'm sorry?" She braced herself for the familiar line.

Meyali waved a hand at her. "I don't condone what you do. Blasting around with your guns. It's inelegant and ineffective. Fighting is best left to those with the Force."

Mitka swallowed her anger, her face feeling hot with shame. How many times had she been made to feel worthless because she didn't have Force-sensitivity, she had been condemn to death for it by her birth mother. She wondered if the Jedi had even seen her, her heritage was obvious, if she had been born force sensitive, she would have been Sith.

“Apologies Master Cardani, that my mother failed in her duty at my birth, but since I stubbornly survived, I thought it best to fight against those who would maliciously do harm to an innocent baby.” She kept her voice from shaking, keeping her anger in check, and noticed Master Cardani make a face, like she had just tasted something unpleasant.

"We should go," she managed to say. "We still have to meet up with our medic in the cantina." Damn Dorne.

Meyali didn't acknowledge her, but strode out of the room and down the hall as though this mission was hers alone. Mitka hoped that whoever Little Scorpion was, he or she was friendlier than Meyali was.

The temple cantina was a small, somewhat cramped room - but it didn't matter, because it was mainly empty. A few padawans talking in low voices, a half-asleep Mirialan girl, and a lonely barkeep were the only people there. Mitka cast her eyes around, but no one seemed to be waiting for her. She approached the bar and said, "Uh...is someone here called 'chamaa sirara'?"

He jerked his head toward the Mirialan girl, who was apparently starting to doze off. Apparently hearing Mitka approach, she opened her eyes and looked up at her. Before she could speak, Meyali stepped in front of Mitka and slapped her across the face.

"Now I know what you've been hiding from me," she hissed.

"What are you doing?!" Mitka cried, horrified.

The younger woman rubbed her cheek and gave Mitka a dry smile. "Don't worry. This is totally normal for us. It's how she expresses her motherly love for me." She stood up, and Mitka realized she was several inches shorter than her. "You must be Mitka. I'm Ayang."

Mitka was still too shocked by Meyali's behavior to say anything. At least it made sense now why Garza had said the new medic was "especially well suited" to deal with Meyali. She'd sent Mitka her daughter.

Ayang started to gather up her things. "So, I'm not military, so I'm not going to call you 'sir' or anything. I bet you get sick of that anyhow."

"Uh...yeah, sometimes." The formality did get awfully old. It might be nice to have a woman around that didn't just quote military regulations.

Ayang watched Meyali walk out ahead of them, apparently still not wanting to be associated with "inelegant" non-Force users. She lowered her head and whispered, "Don't let her get to you. My mom's all talk; she just has a massive superiority complex. Just ignore her."

"What she did to you wasn't just talk."

A grimly serious look crossed Ayang's face. "Doesn't matter. I still have one up on her and she knows it." She picked up her blaster and her datapad. "My mother isn't going to have anything to do with my baby, and you can bet on that."