Quinn led Jaesa down the ramp into Rhu Caenus Spaceport, feeling slightly strange at walking in front, Jaesa behind and to the right, as if he were in command and she were his attache. Well, he was in command for all official and outward purposes, but both of them knew she was by far the most powerful being of the two. He didn't resent this as he did with Lord Xioban, nor did he feel intimidated as he did with Xioban.

Unlike his late wife, Quinn felt that Jaesa actually had the Empire's best interests at heart, and she was genuinely...he couldn't believe he was even thinking this...a nice person. She was thoughtful, caring, unselfish, and believed in something larger than herself...everything Quinn had never been, with the sole exception of his devotion to the Empire. He would feel like an insect next to her, if only she didn't radiate that damned aura of inspiration and competence...she exuded an infectous desire to be more...to be better.

Old Quinn would have resented this, sneered at her selflessness as being stupidity or naivete, and watched for an opportunity to eliminate her as a threat to the Sith and the Empire. New Quinn realized that this was exactly what the Empire needed: compassion to temper opportunism, mercy to temper ruthlessness, pragmatic logic to temper galactic-scale ambition and avarice.

Seeing her save his life and those of Vette and Pierce several times over during the battle with Lord Xioban, selflessly and with no thought to reciprocation, opened his eyes for the first time in his adult life. And yet she siezed on this opportunity to take Baras' life--and with it, his place--not to satisfy a hunger for personal power, but rather because she could do more for the Empire in that position than he could.

Quinn's career had been a shambles because he sabotaged it with suspicion and double-dealing. The one good thing he had done, at the Battle of Druckenwell, hadn't been truly done for the Empire. He had done it to try to elevate his own career at the expense of his commander's. He knew that now, his own protests to the contrary notwithstanding.

Jaesa's quiet voice broke him out of his distracted musings. "Your mind is wandering, Malavai."

He looked back, pretending to be annoyed and saw her smiling a very small smile. The one liberty she had taken was to use his given name. Somehow, coming from her it didn't seem intrusive. He nodded slightly and schooled his thoughts, unaware whether there were any other Sith in the spaceport. "Quite right, Jaesa. Thank you."

Her justification for the familiarity was logical: he had always called her by her first name, so it was only fair. He could think of a dozen regulations that would contradict her, but none of that seemed to matter with her. And truth be told, he didn't really seem to give a fig for regulations where she was involved. Something else that would have been inconceivable for him mere weeks ago.

They both caught a speeder to the Killik hive that was formerly known as House Cortess. The house had been taken over and "converted" (that was his contact's word for it) after the heads of the house had been caught in some sort of treason against the Empire. That had been one of the events that, while good for him and his Killik friends personally, had convinced him that he didn't belong in Imperial Intelligence.

His self-reflection and revelation came at just the right time for Quinn and his crew; Quinn himself had been preparing to call the former diplomat when he'd seen his name pop up on an incoming holocall. The conversation had lasted less than a minute, but told them both what they needed to know: Quinn needed someone, and Vector Hyllus needed someplace to go.

L + ~6 years

Ruth poured a second round of brandy for herself and Wynston. "So what about you? Anything good at work since last we met?"

"A number of things." Wynston took a sip and then leaned back to let Ruth nestle against his side. "One in particular that I thought was...interesting."

"What's that?"

"A Navy operation out near Sullust. Some of our men made an ill-advised attack run against orders and got caught well behind enemy lines. It wasn't a pretty situation."

"So what happened?"

"Well." Wynston sipped his drink and then set it aside. "Ten years ago I would have let them die. They walked into it and getting them out again was a risk."

She gauged his expression. "But you saved them."

He nodded. "I saved them. It took significant resources and more than a little quick footwork, but they came out alive." His eyes unfocused a little. "Ten years ago I wouldn't have bothered. Too much work to do elsewhere, I would have said it's a shame but it wasn't worth salvaging."

The emphasis on time struck Ruth as odd. "What changed?"

He focused back on her and smiled. "I did. Largely because of you."

"Oh?"

His smile faded and he laced his fingers with hers, an active hesitation. Eventually he said "Darling, before I met you I never really revered life for its own sake. I hated wasteful death, but that's not really the same thing. I put a good face on efficiency, that's all. It was always you who venerated life, put it at the front and center of your ideals. And then, somewhere along the way, I started to see what you were talking about."

They were quiet for a few moments. Then Ruth said, "Well, on behalf of the people you saved, thank you."

He kissed her nose. "It was the least I could do."

"You're tense."

"Somewhat."

"Why?"

"I just told you why. I did something old-me wouldn't have done. Old-me still ought to be here, darling, I worked hard to get him into shape. When did I lose him? I find situations, alter them, then leave. They don't impact me. Except that with you, I...I got my foot caught in the door. And while I imagine one might construe that as flattering, part of me wonders...doesn't it bother you that I'm not the man who first came to you?"

"No," she said firmly. "You couldn't change into something I wouldn't love."

"Oh, I imagine I could. But I don't intend to. It will probably damage my reputation for independence to say this, but I care what you think. All my life, everything I've done – even the things I chalk up to my loyalty to the Empire – everything I've done has been subject to my sovereign whim. In my defense I've always had very high-quality whims, but...it's different now. With you. You hold a standard I want to live up to." He smiled at her, then looked away to study his glass. "I never talked this much about myself before I met you, either," he said wryly.

"I like hearing you talk. And I like when you share being thoughtful. And I like you, and your standards, and your whims."

"You seem to like a lot of things."

"Not really," she said. "I like the best things, though."

Wynston laughed. "You're too kind," he said, and settled his arms more comfortably around her. "But in the end, if becoming a better man is the price I have to pay to come back to you, I'll do it."

Tipsy-Wynston is rambling-introspective-Wynston, doubly so in the continuity where he cares enough about someone else to take a hard look at himself.

He exaggerates somewhat here; he did care about life before he met Ruth. It wasn't his top priority, but he did. It just became much more important as he got to know her here.

He walked slowly through the crowded plaza looking for someplace quiet to sit. Clutched in his hands were a small cup and a bag of Voss street food. Aric honestly had no idea what it was, but it did smell good and it was meat, all he really needed to know. Up ahead between the buildings he saw a small path that split away from the bustle and slipped into a shadowed corridor. Smiling he headed onto the darkened path following it to its destination.

The path deposited him in a quiet area of the city; around him trees grew, benches dotted the manicured lawn. Flowers grew with organized randomness, bright pops of colour along the path and around the trees. As he wandered the lawn looking for a place to eat he saw a black robed figured sitting on the lawn and stopped. Sith.

Taking in a deep breath he tried to catch their scent, but they were downwind. Cocking his head to the side he stared eyes narrowed, watching. The figure stretched before him, the ebony hood lowered to reveal dark auburn hair. Their head tilted back revealing a familiar face. Her eyes were closed as she soaked up the bright Voss sun on her upturned face. The bright sparkle of gold glittered from the base of her porcelain throat. He smiled; she was the last person he had expected to run into.

Walking up to her he paused a respectful distance away; quietly he cleared his throat. She cracked open an eye and peered up at him. She grinned, “Aric, this is a pleasant surprise.”

He returned her smile, “I was looking for a quiet spot to eat.”

“You are more than welcome to eat with me,” she patted the ground next to her.

He walked next to her and sat down on the grass. He proceeded to open the bag pulling out his lunch.

“What are you having?” She peered at his lap.

“No idea, it's hot and smells good. To bad all they have around here is this tea stuff.” He scowled.

“You don’t like tea?” She frowned slightly.

“Not really, no.”

“Let me guess you are a caf guy?”

He smiled, “How did you guess?”

She just shook her head and reached out her hand, “Let me try it.”

“You sure? Its pretty awful.” He wrinkled his nose.

“Pretty sure I can handle it.”

“Alright,” he handed her his cup.

She took a sip and grimaced, “Well no wonder you don’t like it, it's so strong it would strip the hide off a bantha.” “Here,” she reached over to a tray sitting next to her, picking up a brightly coloured tea pot she poured a steaming amber liquid into a cup. He watched her drop a small spoonful of sugar into the cup, stirring as she poured some milk.

She held the cup out to him. Cautiously he accepted it. She watched smiling at him. When he hesitated staring at the gently steaming cup she frowned slightly and nodded her head to the cup. It certainty did smell better than the cup he had, slightly sweet and flowery. He took a small sip. “Oh hey, that's not to bad.”

She laughed, “You are welcome. If you ever want to drink it again, don't over brew it, tea only takes a few minutes, I'd say four tops. Unless you want a bitter sludge you can use to clean converter couplings.”

Rolling his eyes, he grunted as he took another sip. Setting the cup on the ground he proceeded to open and paw through the bag. It was filled with thin golden brown strips of fried meat; the aroma was mouthwatering. Grabbing a small strip on top he popped it into his mouth, it was crunchy and salty, unknown herbs slid across his tongue, “Oh these are good.” He promptly grabbed another fried little strip of goodness shoving it into his mouth.

“There should be a dipping sauce in there as well, I recommend it, very tasty.”

He looked and located the little bowl hidden at the bottom of the bag. Opening up the bowl he sniffed the clear dark brown liquid, it smelled even better than the meat. He balanced the bowl on his right knee and resumed eating, dipping a strip into the savory sauce. His stomach rumbled in response. Next to him he heard her giggle.

“Do they not feed you?”

He wrinkled up his nose, “Ration bars, don't usually get real food stocked on the ship unfortunately.”

“Oh,” she sounded farther away. Looking behind him he noticed she was laying back on the grass, knees bent, feet flat, a datapad propped up on her lap. “That's a pity, I pretty much demand a stocked galley.”

He grunted in response, that didn’t not surprise him, he had a feeling Sith usually got whatever they wanted. Sadly his lunch disappeared quickly. Frowning he looked at his empty lap, he wanted more but it was a long walk back and he didn’t want to leave just yet.

“I'm surprised to see you here.” Kit'ar nudged him with her knee. He turned to look at her. “I would of thought that Urania would of pushed off by now, she seemed pretty annoyed at being asked to come here.”

He frowned, “The Captain has decided to stay, she has been enjoying the attention the cratered spaceship is generating for her.”

“Ahh well that explains it then.” She sighed.

“As long as she's getting attention she's happy,” his voice sounded more bitter than he intended.

“Really? She acts like this often?”

He snorted. “She thinks the galaxy revolves around her, if there is a way to receive personal recognition she will do it.” He scowled at his empty lunch bag in his lap.

“You don’t like your commanding officer do you?” Her voice was quiet, gentle.

“She gets the job done, the brass loves her.” The bitter edge sharpened.

“But you don’t like her.” She gently asked.

He sighed. “No I don’t. Her methods are … questionable. As long as she gets the results our General wants no one seems to care.”

“It bothers you. What has she done that is questionable?” Her voice was so steady, soothing.

What has she done, he thought to himself, what hasn’t she done? I shouldn’t say anything I shouldn’t. He looked back at her; she had sat up, arms draped over her knees, watching him. He dropped his eyes back to his lap and took a huge breath.

“We had a layover on Coruscant. She decided to help with a … problem in the Hydrosupply Station. We came across these kids, completely on their own; they had been using the hydrosupply. The older one, a real feisty kid tried to run us off. When he asked her for credits she got violent. She actually shot at the kid. The boy managed to grab his sister and run off.”

“It bothered me, a lot, they were just kids, orphans. I know they should not of been down there but the way she handled it was excessive. I managed to track them down, I slipped them enough credits to make a difference and gave the boy an old holdout blaster I had.”

Aric sighed rubbing his head. “Couple days later we were approached by a Security Captain to assist with a situation. A local gang had rigged supplies to blow whenever civilians tried to access them. She actually found it funny. Asked me if I wanted to place any bets with her that someone would get blown up before she disarmed all the bombs.”

“Her attitude made me realize all the unproven circumstantial stories about her, they were true. When we were both stationed on Ord Mantell things happened. Nothing that can be proved but people who made her unhappy had a habit of disappearing. Made me realize just how low of a value she placed on a persons life.”

He looked back over his shoulder at her, those green eyes stared at him sympathetic. “The little boy,” she asked, “what is his name and how is he doing now?”

“Waarin, he and his sister Jena are doing a lot better. I found them a better place to live, in a home for orphaned kids. They are both back in school. He sends me periodic mails letting me know how they are doing.”

“That’s good news,” she smiled at him. Her hand reached out and rubbed his shoulder. “She has not done anything to you has she?”

He shuddered dropping his head to his chest. Of course she has, he bit his lip, but should he tell?

“Aric?” Her voice nudged him.

He nodded his head. The words tumbled out before he was able to stop himself. “When we were on Taris she was convinced by a Doctor Cel to help her get this ancient rakghoul vaccine, produced before the bombardment. We managed to track down an ancient sample from Dynamet General, in the Hospital's basement.” His mouth grew dry, swallowing he forced himself to continue. “I thought we were finished. I … I was wrong.”

“That night we were outside the main resettlement zone, I ended up setting up camp in a relatively secure location and went to sleep. The Captain, she had first watch. I was so stupid. I slept without my armor on, but I thought I was safe, the Captain was in such a good mood, she assured me we were secure. I vaguely remember waking up when she injected me with something. Everything started to swim and then this horrible screeching noise filled the air. I heard them respond, their answering screams.”

“The camp was flooded by rakghouls, they were everywhere and then they saw me. They howled and swarmed me, I could not find my weapons they were missing. I had to fight them fang to fang claw to claw. It … it,” he shuddered. “I can still taste the filthy monsters. I somehow managed to kill them, I still don’t know how. I remember falling to the ground, hearing her call for an evac team and then everything went black.”

“When I woke up I was in a cell, restrained on a medical bed. Everything hurt; I was covered in bandages. I remember shivering even though I was burning up. I was so hot. They left me in there, watching. I remember the constant beeping of monitors; that was the only sound, no one would speak to me. They just stared and took notes.”

“Then the real pain started, it was excruciating it felt like every nerve was on fire, my muscles constantly cramping. It became so hard to string coherent thoughts together, all I wanted was to get loose.” He closed his eyes swallowing, pushing away the remembered agony as his hide flinched and rolled. Her hand gently rubbed his shoulder, steady and supportive. Taking a deep breath he continued.

“At some point I managed to break the bed; I started pacing in the cell, yelling beating on the forcefield. The pain from the shock was nothing compared to what I was feeling. I just focused on escaping, so focused I didn’t care my fur was starting to fall out in clumps. Then... then it got worse, I collapsed to my knees screaming, unable to move. The screams they did not sound normal, they sounded like one of them, I sounded like one of them. I think I passed out, everything just … stopped.”

“When I woke up I was again restrained on a bed. I heard them talking complaining. They were upset that they had to work with the antibodies in my system. How much more work it was to extract what they were looking for in an alien biological sample. 'Why couldn’t it of been a human or at least a baseline human that had gotten and beaten the infection, instead of a humanoid?'”

“The damn doctors were mad that I was not human,” he hissed, “I had managed to survive getting infected with that foul plague and they were complaining that they had more work to do.” A sharp crack echoed through the air, a slicing pain slid across his palm. Blinking he looked down at his now bleeding hand, it was covered in glass shards and the remnants of the dipping sauce. When had he picked up the bowl? He watched as blood, sauce and glass shards dripped onto his grey fatigues.

“Are you okay?” Her hand touched his arm, “Let me see.”

Shaking he moved his right hand to her outstretched waiting fingers. He watched as she poured warm water over his hand and gently picked out glass shards. He gritted his teeth in anticipation as he watched the warm red fog flow down her arms and onto his bleeding palm. The burning warmth penetrated his hand and the wound slowly knit itself closed.

“You are strong to have been able to survive that.” She gently rubbed his palm tracing the faint scar that remained.

“They didn’t appreciate it,” he growled.

“But I do,” she gently kissed the palm of his hand. “Strength is always appreciated and rewarded.” She kissed his palm again. He sat there staring at her porcelain thumbs rubbing his cinnabar palm, her ruby red nails shining in the bright Voss sun.

“They were able to produce a new vaccine, she … she negotiated a deal with the Doctor, a percentage of the sales. The Doctor was to sell it to the highest bidder. The Captain did not care to have it produced to inoculate soldiers or civilians; she wanted credits. Just credits. I almost, … I could have been, and she did it for the chance to make credits.”

Her thumbs stopped moving, they tightened their grip on his hand. He looked up. Her face was emotionless but her jaw was clenched as if she was trying to forcefully refrain from speaking what was on her mind. Her eyes were laced with gold; he stared at her uncertain. Her hands released his palm and caressed his cheeks. As he leaned in to meet her kiss, he wondered in the back of his mind, what irreparable damage he just caused with his inadvertent confession.

If Jaesa wasn't busy juggling her attention between acting drunk, acting like a spoiled Sith, and keeping her senses cast out for any sense of interest in their discussion, she would have found the situation extraordinarily funny.

Malavai Quinn and Vector Hyllus were talking about nothing. And yet, there was a subtext to their conversation that meant very much. The two men, both of whom had worked for Imperial Intelligence at some point, were speaking about Alderaan's weather, the cultural challenges of the noble houses, what it felt like to be a Killik joiner, and how boring the social life on Dromund Kaas had become since the war had started.

However, on a completely different level, there was a very serious appraisal going on of their chances in taking Darth Baras unawares, the political situation in the Empire now that the Sith were grabbing for more and more power, and negotiating Vector's entry onto their team of would-be rebels against Baras.

Quinn had spent some of the long journey from the Transponder Station, when their hyperdrive "malfunctioned" (arranged by 2V, who had his memory of it wiped immediately thereafter), giving her a crash course in Imperial double-speak. It wasn't challenging for her to pick up on the double meanings, given her time spent on Alderaan being lied to by people within her own family, and those in the houses she served. That early life experience had trained her very well for this.

Nor did her difficulty come in the "cypher" they used to prevent other Imperials trained by Intelligence from picking up on the conversation immediately. These were shared secrets between the two men, and it wasn't unlike keeping track of the gossip that pervaded Alderaan society. Again, her early life had trained her well for this.

No, her main difficulty came from all the Imperial cultural cues and subtext that she lacked, having not grown up in the Empire. Quinn could sympathize to some extent: he was a bit of a social outcast himself, both in his childhood and his Academy days. As he related some of the old stories about the backstabbing and arranged failures that went on there, the young Sith thought that it didn't sound that much different than the Sith Academy on Korriban. Xioban had told her those stories as well, when she wasn't busy...no, she would not allow her thoughts to wander down this dark alley.

Her momentary emotional distraction almost allowed her to miss the spike in interest, brief surge of anger and betrayal, and shift in aura from right behind Quinn. She was impressed...they had an "asset" that close to the threesome's table, and Jaesa hadn't sensed a thing. Intelligence worked fast, and probably had Baras to thank. As soon as he became aware of her powers whlie Xioban was trying to draw her out, Intelligence doubtless found out as well, and they already had figured out a way to train agents to hide their intentions from her nearly flawlessly.

For the first time, she silently thanked Xioban for something: teaching her how to use her power "casually", rather than concentrating and holding up a neon sign that said "I'M READING YOUR AURA".

She pounded her fist in the table, splling their drinks and pinning Malavai with a lethal stare. "I'm bored! You promised me some amusement, and all I get is you two drabbling on like two impotent old nerfherders! I want to kill someone!"

This, like everything else at the table that day, was relevant on several levels.

On the surface level, it drew attention to their table and, by extension, the table next to them where Baras' mole was seated. It also told Quinn and Vector that they were being watched, and that this conversation had to be over. It was just as well...all the major points had been negotiated anyway, and it was a foregone conclusion that Hyllus would be willing to help.

On the next level, her wording told both men where the threat was and how close. She was very impressed that neither man blanched, batted an eyelash, or looked around at this revelation. Obviously, both had been trained a good deal more than Quinn had admitted to her. She hadn't sensed any deception within him, but then again if he was this well-trained, he might not show any sign.

On the last level, it gave them an excuse to leave. The captain would make several apologies and escort his too-drunk charge -- a young Sith apprentice who had recently lost her master, a story that had already made the rounds as Jaesa was famous for being one of Alderaan's "own" -- back to the ship to sober up. Vector would be diplomatic and assure Quinn that he was not offended by such a display, while acting for all the world like he was, and make his way back to the Killik hive that had been created from the old House Cortess.

However, he would be merely saying his goodbyes, and then heading for the spaceport by way of the massive network of subsurface Killik tunnels that criscrossed the entire planet. He had researched well, and knew of a tunnel exit that would lead him to the maintenance areas of Rhu Caenus Spaceport, and would allow him to take backchannels to Jaesa's ship without being seen.

Jaesa, meanwhile, continued to spout drunken "offended Sith" nonsense, using the phrases that told Quinn they were being pursued by multiple assailants. Apparently, when she showed herself to be "very drunk", the agents let their guards down, thinking her to be no threat. Bad mistake.

Instead of heading directly back to House Thul and the spaceport, they jumped on a speeder bike at her "insistence" (actually, the plan for pursuit) and headed out into one of the few truly unpopulated regions of Alderaan. Jaesa counted three pursuers, and there would almost certainly be backup coming via shuttle. And the agent who had been listening to them was part of the pursuit. Another bad mistake.

They would have to dispose of the agents quickly and quietly and emerge across the planet for their meeting with their other potential recruit: Eckard Lokin.

Meh. This is far inferior to the original one I wrote that the forums ate. But it'll have to do until something better comes along.

He released a slow steady breath through parted lips, slightly shifting his weight, the broken flooring on the balcony digging into his prone form. A slight cool breeze blew, out of the south-southwest, negligible in strength but refreshing. Left eye closed he peered through the scope, below lay the objective; the rocky, rubble filled, crater studded mess that used to be a manicured park. Subtly he moved his head away from the scope and looked around their position. He could spot the other three groups of snipers set up along the rooftops. The day was beautiful, not a cloud in the sky, the sun was shining brightly, it was easy to forget they were set up in position on the balcony of a partially collapsed industrial building deep in the fighting on Corellia.

Beside him his spotter spoke in quiet subdued tones, “Approximately five minutes until the Target is due to arrive.”

Aric nodded, easing his hand onto the trigger. Oh how he had missed this, he had finally gotten his transfer out of Havoc and Major Torve moved him right back into the Deadeyes. Torve had told him it was the least he could do since he had gone to such great lengths to recover the imprisoned squad.

Their Target was one Nyles Drake; the head of a newly formed branch of the Exchange who had moved in and was exploiting the chaos that reigned on the war torn planet. Not the usual decapitation strike that the squad was renowned for, but in all honestly that was all right with Aric, he was hoping to avoid any high ranking military targets. He only had a year left on this tour, afterward he was going into early retirement.

The breeze shifted brushing against his exposed fur. “Wind change from south-southwest to south by west,” next to him his spotter murmured.

“Acknowledged.”

Aric closed his left eye, returning his gaze to the area below them. Through his earpiece he heard static and then Torve's voice crackled to life. “Target sited, approximately two minutes early.”

Aric's thumb slowly eased off the safety; drawing a slow steady breath through his nose he held it for a couple seconds before exhaling. Just like riding a speeder, he reminded himself, nothing to be nervous about. He was though, he was nervous, something just seemed off, he kept reminding himself he had been away a long time, that everything was fine.

“Visual on Target,” his spotter whispered, “in range in fifty seconds.”

Aric watched waiting for the target to enter his view; quietly counting down in his head. Moments later a group of four moved into view. What? No... he stared confused, walking below him laughing was Kit'ar and her crew. She and her apprentice, black robbed and hoods up, were laughing as Pierce and Vette walked behind. Pierce patting Vette on the shoulder, clad in his distinctive black and red durasteel, his prized bowcaster slug over his back. Vette, as always looked like a misplaced smuggler, her black duster open, her twin blasters slug low on her hips.

His comm crackled to life, “Target in range, on my mark in... three, two, one.” Torve's voice rang in his ear as a crack echoed through his head.

“No...” he watched as Pierce's upper body jerked, spinning, as the ricocheting sound of the rifle shot filled the air.

Aric pushed his body off the ground yelling, he dropped the rifle and plunged forward down his position's only escape route. The gnawing feeling of apprehension erupted into raging roars of panic as he scrambled to reach their position. Static constantly flowed through his ear com; a chilling narration as he ran.

“On my mark in... three, two, one.” Aric heard a sharp snap, an acrid smell filling his nostrils. The snapping buzz of shield generators deactivating surrounded him, he watched the shimmering fields flare to life and fade away. Pierce brought his bowcaster to bear on the pair to their nine when his body spun around, red starting to blossom under his arm; a disjointed crack echoed. “Target down. Acquiring next.”

The humming hiss of igniting lightsabers filled the air, as the distressed pain filled warbling of Talz reached him, he watched the now un-stealthed Broonmark's body crumple to the ground. “Target down. Acquiring next.”

The two Sith were standing back to back over an injured Vette, sabers ignited waiting. Kit'ar's eyes narrowed as she scanned the roofline. Her hand shot up, gurgled static erupted though Aric's com. He scrambled to their side; pausing to check Pierce's vitals, his friend was gone. Squeezing Pierce's shoulder he picked up his caster and knelt next to Vette.

A crack rolled through his com and then, “A new player on the field, player is armed.” He watched a bright orange plasma bolt bounce off the nearly invisible Force field Kit'ar was holding over them. The bolt's shot filled the air seconds later. Aric turned bringing Pierce's bowcaster up to bare on the sniper duo to their three.

The ground erupted beneath them, knocking the Sith to their knees. Dust and dirt flew into the air obscuring his vision. He heard Jaesa and Kit cry out, Jaesa fell to the ground next to him, her saber extinguishing in a puff of yellow smoke. Kit'ar fell against him, green eyes wide, crimson blossoming against the pale porcelain of her throat. Her saber fell from her hand in a hiss of cyan smoke. He heard someone screaming, it was him. He leaned over Kit, pulling her to his chest, hugging her.

The static in his ear crackled, “Target down. Target down, Acquiring next.” Then he heard laughter. “Good job boys, been after that particular Sith for a while. Primary Target down, as well as some tasty Targets of Opportunity, all five high priority, including the Wrath's lover, the last defecting member of Havoc. First few rounds are on me tonight,” Torve's voice crackled.

Defector? What no... he had never defected. He heard the crack through the com as he screamed.

He was still screaming when he woke up, bolting upright in bed cracking his head against the top bunk. Rubbing sweaty palms over his aching head he looked around the room, trying to get his bearing. He was in bed, in his bunk, on the ship. He heard motion, once again he had woken his bunkmates. He kicked disentangling himself from his twisted blankets.

Stumbling from the room he heard Drone call after him as Vik muttered, “If I have to endure another night of this I’m drugging him myself, this is the sixth night in a row.”

Aric slammed his fist against the door panel, closing it behind him. Quickly he moved through the darkened corridor of the ship, just slipping past the threshold of the cargo bay when he heard the door to the crew's barrack open. Slamming his fist into the door panel he retreated to the back of the bay.

Leaning against the wall he pried a loose panel off the wall, shaking fingers searched the recessed hole until they slid over glass. Grabbing his prize he pulled the bottle out of its hiding place. Collapsing against the crates he fumbled with the cap finally managing to twist it off. The whisky was warm, burning as it slid down his throat.

He ran his hand though his mane when his fingers stopped on his freshly shorn scalp. He had to shave it when he returned, he should of never returned. The nightmares resumed the night he stepped foot on the ship. Throwing his head back he gulped down another mouthful of whisky.

A quiet knock echoed through the room. Aric took another drink. He heard Dorne's muffled voice through the door. He ignored her, she would knock once more and attempt to talk to him though the door before she would give up and leave. He knew it was only a matter of time before she pushed it, opened the door and confronted him, tried to get him to talk.

He did need to talk, but not to Dorne. He had to find a way to get these damn nightmares under control. Taking another drink he replaced the cap and set the bottle on the crate next to him. Leaning over he searched the cubby for her com. He had to talk to her, maybe then he would get some sleep. With a deep breath he cued up the com.

“This had better be the Emperor himself or I’m going to choke you...” a very muffled, very groggy, very Imperial voice, emanated from the com. The com itself was still black, he grinned as he heard muffled thumps followed by “Oh bloody hell, damn this thing to the void.” Finally the image of a groggy sleep disheveled woman popped into view.

“I'm sorry Kit'ar, I didn't mean to wake you.”

“Aric?” Kit'ar sat up fully, knuckle rubbing her eye. “Aric what's the matter, why are you so upset?”

“I needed to see you, talk to you, make sure you are okay.”

“Of course I’m okay, I am or well I was sleeping in bed on the Estate. Aric what is the matter?”

“So you are on Dromund Kass?” Aric sighed a quiet sigh of relief.

“Unless there is another Estate I’m not aware of, yes, I’m on Dromund Kass.” She frowned at him annoyed. He could not help but smile. “Well, what is the matter?”

He shook his head, “More nightmares, worse than normal.”

He felt a gentle pressure against his cheek, closing his eyes he leaned into it sighing. “I am alright,” she murmured. He brought his hand up to his cheek to cover the hand he knew was not there. The gentle pressure faded and he opened his eyes, she was watching him.

“What happened? In your nightmare?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I can't, it ... I just had to talk to you.”

“I thought they had stopped.” Her projection shifted leaning towards him. Again he felt that gentle pressure slide along his bare arm, it came to rest against his neck. He closed his eyes trying to lean into it, imaging it was her physical hand caressing him instead of a Force trick.

“They had, until I returned here. Every time I close my eyes they start. I had to resort to stimms.”

“I can retrieve you.”

He opened his eyes, she was staring at him, concern radiated off of her, but her tone was chilling, it had slipped into the commanding Darth that she was, the one what brooked no argument and conveyed that none would harm anyone she considered hers.

He shook his head, “I will be able to manage, we talked about this I have to finish this tour. It's the only way I can get out without drawing to much suspicion. Even then its not going to look good but its the only way.”

She frowned slightly but nodded her acquiescence.

“We will be docking on Nar Shaddaa for resupplies in two days and I was wondering if you might be there.”

She smiled, “Of course, just get the new entry code from Jy’lth. Pierce just cycled through the security on the apartment.”

He nodded, tension seemed to drain from his shoulders and back just knowing he was going to see her. “I'll will meet you at the apartment, go back to sleep Kit, I'm sorry I woke you.”

The gentle pressure moved along his neck touching his cheek, “Try to get some rest.” She kissed her fingertips and held them up. He mirrored the gesture and her blue hologram blinked out of existence, robbing him of her Force touch, he ached at its departure.

Two days, he only had to wait two days he could do that. He leaned back against the crates touching his cheek, after that it was one day at a time until the year was finished. It was only a year how long could a year take?

when Agent Kinka infiltrates the SIS, she's mortified to discover that they have no intention of letting her keep her support base. Just before landing on Taris she’s forced to kill Kaliyo and Vector. After it’s done, she vows to get revenge on Ardun Kothe and anyone else involved in her brainwashing.

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

Kinka looked up from her drink to see a dark-haired cyborg leaning in way too closely beside her at the bar. “Look, I don’t have the patience for a walk down memory lane, and I’m not going to bed with you, so if you’d like to retain the ability to go f*ck yourself, get out of my face.”

Simple. Direct. That should have gotten rid of him. But instead, he held up his hands and took a step back. “I’m not here to hit on you. I just saw you across the room and thought I’d come over. You’re Kinka, right?”

“I don’t go by that name anymore,” she bristled. “How do you know who I am?”

“It was a long time ago,” he conceded. “We spent some time together at Vaiken Spacedock. You talked about getting off Hutta, going home to Dromund Kaas. We had some drinks, did some other things together.”

“You’re a bounty hunter.”

He smiled, mouth full of blindingly white teeth. “That’s right. Nivalus,” he offered, knowing she still probably didn’t remember that detail.

“Did you just come to reminisce or do you want something? I’m not much of a people person these days.”

“I’ll cut to the chase then. There’s talk of a woman with a vendetta against some big shot with the SIS.”

“And you thought of me because...?”

“Because I remember the Rattataki woman you were with back then, Kaliyo. We were acquaintances. And I heard how she ended up dead. Now maybe that doesn’t mean anything, but I see you here throwing back drinks like there’s no tomorrow, like you’re a ghost. And I wonder if you’re the one.”

“Seems like quite the leap you’ve made there.”

“There’s also word going around about a former Intelligence agent who snapped and went off the grid. You’re a very wanted woman, you know. Your picture’s plastered all over the place. The Empire wants you dead.”

Kinka smirked. “Well, the Empire can get in line.”

“You don’t understand what I’m telling you. There’s gonna be a line of bounty hunters a mile long gunning for you, that kind of money on the line.”

“Are you here to take me in, Nivalus? It won’t end well for you. I can see eight different ways to kill you within arm’s reach.” That was a lie; there were only seven. But it would be enough to get the job done. She studied his face, the stubble, the square jaw, the cybernetic implant where his left eye would have been. It was a pleasant enough face; in another lifetime it would have dawned on her to flirt with him. But as it was, she had no interest in his pleasantries.

“I want to help you.”

Kinka narrowed her eyes at him. “Why?”

“I was always a sucker for a pretty face,” he quipped. “And the two of us got on pretty well once.”

She pulled out her blaster and shoved it in his groin. “I told you, I’m not going to bed with you.”

“Stars! Easy, kid. This isn’t like that, I swear. I just wanted to offer my services in helping you get your revenge.”

“You’ll forgive me if I’m skeptical, Nivalus. I’ve been around long enough to know help always comes with a price. So I’ll ask again, what do you get out of this?”

He leaned in closer and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Look, I got my own reasons, I’ll admit to that. But they’re my own, and I don’t feel like sharing just yet. Let me help you. I know people.”

She thought for a moment, then holstered the weapon and turned to knock back the rest of her drink. “I want names and locations of people close to a man named Ardun Kothe. I’ll take anyone you can find me, but I’m willing to pay big for family.”

Nivalus nodded. “We’ll be in touch.”

Scourge had been lying all along and had lured the Jedi into a trap to fight Emperor. The Emperor would destroy the Jedi's most powerful weapon and the Republic fleet would be decimated. Unfortunately for them, Remi defeated the Emperor and Scourge finds her in the ritual chamber accidentally revealing his role in the plot.

Fool. The word echoed in Remi's mind and before she could stop herself she attacked. She drove Scourge back intent on wiping the bemused expression from his face. He parried her initial assault as though he expected it. He probably had.

They had fought truly once, before his master stepped in and seized her mind. They had sparred every day since he helped her escape the Emperor's stronghold. It was all part of their plan to carefully assess the Jedi’s strongest and by extension the rest of the Order. Again, as if reading her mind his lips pursed slightly in satisfaction. They knew each other, perhaps too well. He had realized it. She had not.

Fortunately, he had miscalculated, she held back during their practice sessions. Perhaps he could not understand that a Jedi would not care who won during training. Unlike most Sith whose arrogance would force him to show strength at all times. She held back in true combat as well, using just enough power to subdue her enemies, nothing like the reckless destruction of a young Sith.

He had not believed she could defeat his Master. She allowed herself that consolation as he drove her back, but flinched under the fury of his attacks. Under normal circumstances she might have beaten him, but she was exhausted and he had not found any resistance at all. Her inner turmoil was not helping either.

How could she not have seen his deceit? Master Satele had warned her, Kira had warned her, even Lord Scourge himself had told her of how he betrayed his former allies. She had not listened, she had not wanted to. He disarmed her and drove her back against one of the tall columns that circled the chamber. He pinned her against it, one hand gripped her neck, the other hand grappled with an invisible wall of Force as she desperately tried to slow the descent of his lightsaber.

Stars sparked in her vision as she grew lightheaded. His lip curled with contempt, she hated that look. Hate. She remembered it now. When the Emperor had taken her mind, her hatred consumed her, and here the darkness came readily to her call. Her eyes blazed as she threw Scourge back with a scream. Her lightsaber found her hand and she drove him backward with renewed strength. She disarmed him and batted him against another pillar. He caught her wrists as she struck to kill, her Force-fueled strength drove him to his knees. Now it was his turn to look up at her, but he showed neither fear nor anger, only satisfaction.

"Yes," he whispered, "surrender yourself to the dark side."

"Was that your plan?" she asked leaning into him, "Either way you win?" His eyes shifted almost imperceptibly, it was only the tiniest warning but it was enough. She ducked and spun away as his saber flashed through the air back to his hand. They circled each other warily, his words still hung in the air. She regained her focus, pushing away the swirling maelstrom that called for her to use its power again.

His scorn returned but she ignored it. Their blades clashed sending sparks in every direction, a match of equals with no end in sight.

"Tell me, Jedi." He said conversationally, "What do you suppose is happening right now above us and in this temple?"

She answered with a flurry of attacks. He defended, but just barely.

"Your friends are outnumbered and growing weary, your fleet is being decimated, unaware of your victory," his voice dripped with sarcasm at the word. "All so you may punish me?"

"You are the Emperor's champion, defeating you would be a crushing blow to the Empire." She answered, but her guard faltered and only wrenching herself to one side saved her from disaster.

He smiled coldly again, "I am but one Sith. Defeating me would save your pride, but you would lose everything else. On the other hand, I am Sith. I value my own life and I have spent centuries preserving it. I propose to let you go."

It was her turn to sneer, "You would let me go?"

"Yes," He brutally knocked her lightsaber aside and rushed her. They crashed into another pillar hard enough to crack her armor. "Or I could hold you here indefinitely while your allies die around you.” For a moment they stopped fighting, he held her in place with nothing but his gaze. “The choice is yours, Jedi, but know this," he bent his head to her ear, his warm breath puffed against her neck. "My Master lives."

The blast of Force energy propelled him across the room. He recovered but did not pursue. Instead, he watched as thoughts and doubts flit across her face. She backed toward the exit glancing in the direction of her fallen droid. She bit her lip suppressing her grief as she turned and sprinted away.

"Where's Teeseven and Scourge?" Kira yelled as they ran for their stolen shuttle.

Remi met her eyes, "Don't ask."

His last words still echoed in her ear. My Master lives. She could only wonder why he told her that.

The Intelligence thugs were child's play to eliminate. After Quinn took his "drunk" Sith charge out into the woods for a "dangerous, fun ride, dammit!", as she was heard to loudly exclaim, they stopped at a nearly perfect ambush spot Pierce had scouted the day before, and Jaesa had cut loose with all the anger, fear, and frustration she'd pent up over the past weeks and months.

Quinn had scarcely had time to leap off the speeder bike and unholster his weapon before the vehicles, not to mention the Intelligence agents riding in them, had been reduced to smoking hulks. He'd never seen such raw power, even from Lord Xioban. He simply looked at her with wide eyes, having been brought up speechless for only the second time in his life.

"Malavai, the next time you're tempted to indulge in self-loathing for what you call your 'duplicitous nature and history', don't. These men, all of them, were truly corrupt and morally bankrupt to such an extent that Xioban looked like a saint. Don't ask what I saw in their minds." With that, Jaesa climbed back on the speeder bike and started it up. Quinn noticed fresh tears streaking her cheeks, but she was perfectly composed.

* * *

An hour or so later, Quinn and Jaesa walked into a small dive of a cantina in one of Alderaan's backwater towns. The nobles from nearly any house would certainly ask "where?" if ever informed of this place's existence. Quinn could see why. Except for the weather, it could easily have been a small outpost on Tatooine. He had no idea places such as this existed on an otherwise civilized planet.

Scanning the place as his eyes adjusted, he could now see why Jaesa insisted he change out of his Imperial uniform and into something a bit more 'homey'. Everybody here were civilians, at least in appearance, and the people at the tables seemed only mildly interested in two faces they hadn't seen before.

All except one table, that is. He eagerly waved them over and took hold of Quinn's hand as soon as he was within range to do so. "Malavai, my boy. How are you? It's been what, twelve years?"

A quite astonishing sight appeared on Quinn's face in that moment, a genuine smile. "Thirteen, Eckard, but who's counting?" He hadn't realized how much he had missed Lokin's genuine enthusiasm for...well...everything. A worried look leapt across his face before once again schooled his features into a calm blandness. "Are you sure--" he began, but was cut off by a small look from Lokin.

The older man placed a small nearly unnoticeable device on the table and hit a button. No sound or visual accompanied its activation, but the other noises in the cantina immediately died out. "A little invention of my own, you see. With a little help from some 'liberated' Imperial Intelligence data." He smiled widely. "Now, we're perfectly protected, and our lips aren't even readable from outside. We can speak freely. I take it this is the young lady you told me about?"

"Eckard, may I present soon-to-be-Lord Jaesa Willsaam. Miss Jaesa, this is Doctor Eckard Lokin, formerly of Imperial Intelligence and several other places in the Empire's dark places, some of which I don't even know. We worked together for some time on various...initiatives."

"Yes, I can see this young lady means business. And I'm sure, having read her file, that she can see my intentions very clearly as well."

"I can, Eckard. At least, that's what I see in your mind that you wish me to call you. And to answer your questions, no my powers weren't exaggerated in your file, and if anything expanded even under the questionable tutelage of Lord Xioban, and yes, I believe we can take down Darth Baras, if what Malavai says about your abilities has not been exaggerated either." She saw a twinkle in his eye, and decided the third thing needed to be spoken as well. "And no, I won't mention your sister to Malavai unless you want me to."

Quinn, for his part, merely squinted at Lokin, annoyed. He always seemed to know more secrets about Quinn than Quinn did about Lokin. The elderly doctor clapped his hands together and beamed at Jaesa. "Splendid, my dear! And the method I was attempting to obscure..."

She broke in, smiling, and said "I've always hated that song."

"I do believe, Malavai, that we have a chance. Let's discuss what we have to do before we reach Dromund Kaas..."

Dha groaned as the blaster bolt sheared through his gut and he fell to the ground. He hit the dirt hard, and lay there, stunned. His blaster lay a few feet away. He grabbed a rock and forced himself to his feet. A big mercenary stood above him, blaster pointed down. Dha brought the rock up hard into the man's chin, breaking his neck. The man collapsed.

Dha leapt forward, grabbing his blaster in his right hand. He rolled to his feet, sighted, and snapped off a shot. Another mercenary fell. Shab, I should've known this was a trap! he thought. Intel was spotty, no one gave us a specific number of enemies. Shab, I was an idiot...

He turned, ramming his gauntlet vibroblade up through a Nikto's jugular vein. The alien gasped and dropped. Dha turned and fired again, killing two more mercs. His face hardened. His troops, battle-hardened, experienced Mandalorians, were reacting like first-mission rookies. Not their fault, though. Anyone would panic in this situation.

At least Mako isn't here, he told himself.

He shot off his flamethrower, burning three mercenaries. Nearby, a blaster bolt tore through a woman–Dha felt sick as he recognized her as Dinua–killing her instantly. Chernan cried out in rage and ran over to help her. A blaster bolt from a high-powered cannon pierced his shoulder, ripping his arm off. Dha held out a desperate hand–no!

"Boss!" Torian said. "We need to make tracks! We've lost this one!"

Dha nodded. "All forces, fall back! Fall back!"

A blaster bolt caught him in the back, destroying his jetpack and throwing him to the ground. Lying there, Dha groaned and watched helplessly as those of his men who did not retreat were slaughtered. A mercenary, a big Gen'Dai, stepped forward, leveling his blaster at Dha's head. Dha closed his eyes, knowing he'd never be able to push the alien's blaster aside in time. I'm sorry, Mako.

Suddenly there was an electric-slashing sound. Dha looked up. Torian stood over the Gen'Dai, blade shimmering in blue bolts of energy.

"Let's go, alor," he said.

And then three blaster bolts blew Torian's chest and back into a mess of black.

"No!" Dha cried.

He collapsed onto his chest, the fight gone out of him. He hadn't felt this afraid since Bloodworthy, Jew'la Nightbringer, and the Defenstrator had been killed and Dha had been put at number one on the Republic's Most Wanted list. How could this happen–how? They were better than this; they shouldn't have been caught off-guard, shouldn't have taken this mission, should've double-checked the intel, should've...

The remaining mercenaries closed on Dha. He didn't resist as they put him in force cuffs and hauled him away.

Sometimes, you just can't win. This is what would've happened if Dha had lost big-time on any given mission.