when you say, in front of Elara, the direct quote "I'm not thrilled about having an Imp in my squad", you get -41 affection. Who knew?

I stood by that line rather than esc out. I put Vierce through Taris immediately after finishing Ruth's train wreck of a Sith Warrior romance. I hated the Empire, I hated Imperial officers, and I hated anyone who started insisting on propriety in that accent. I was horrible to poor Elara, and it wasn't her fault. She got the worst of my fresh, raw hatred for Imps...and I played that out through Vierce. I felt terrible once I got to know her and realized how completely different she was, most notably in the fact that she's a good human being. I'm sorry, Elara! We made up eventually. She even gave me a second chance romantically once Act 2 started.

Coruscant

The Kel Dor Jedi Master Nai Xin watched the children meditate. They knelt in a neat row, their poses reflecting the flexibility of youth while belying the restlessness that should accompany it. They were all five or six years of age, all eager to take the first steps to become Padawan, all perfectly relaxed and learning to focus, all except one. He looked at the empty meditation pad with a sigh.

“Remi, no!” A voice scolded from the other room followed by a loud crash.

Master Nai Xin did not have to hide his amusement. His breathing mask, goggles, and alien appearance were more than enough to give him a stern countenance despite his patient nature and lively sense of humor. He followed the sound of voices coming from the training room. He arrived to find his Padawan, Oliver, scolding his missing student.

The little red haired girl blinked up at Oliver with her large yellow eyes. She held a training saber far too large for her. A pair of training dummies lay in ruins in the corner. Remi was a handful. She loved running, jumping, and spinning. Her energy could not be contained, sitting still might as well have been torture, and she let them know how much she disliked it.

“What happened here?” Master Xin asked softly. His mask distorted his voice turning it into a demand. His Padawan jumped and stuttered an apology, Remi turned and smiled brightly.

“I hit them, Master Xin.” She said swinging her training saber clumsily. Oliver backed away.

“You did that?” She nodded emphatically. He walked to the corner and righted the dummy reattaching its armor in more or less the right places. He placed it in front of the small child. “Show me.”

Remi screwed up her face in concentration and swung the wooden blade. It connected solidly with the training dummy, and more a burst of unfocused Force lashed out hitting the dummy and everything else in front of her as well. Master Xin found himself staggering backwards and the dummy flew to join its fallen partner in the corner.

She did not have the focus to use her skill safely in combat. “Have you been practicing that?” Master Xin asked trying not to laugh, the effect sounded angry even to him. His Padawan winced and hurried to the corner to fix the practice dummies. He sighed, his Padawan was afraid of his appearance, and nothing he did put the boy at ease.

“Yup.”

“Why do you practice this and not meditation as you should?”

“I already know how to sit.”

Master Xin chuckled and though it sounded like a growl Remi looked unafraid, “You must prove that, for I have never seen you sit.” He knelt in front of the little girl and took her practice blade. “You learn to focus first so that you can control what you hit, only hit what you mean to, and only just enough.”

“Isn’t more force better?” She asked with innocent confusion.

“Someday it may be.” He said to the little girl, he could see she would become a Jedi Knight if she could learn to focus. She would not stand behind the lines when the time came to fight. “But you must be the one in control. Watch.” He extended the training blade with a bare flick of his wrist. A small wave of force pushed the dummy just enough for it to fall over. “If there were someone you cared for behind or to the side, they would be safe. Control is how lives are preserved. Understand?”

She nodded a bit doubtfully.

“Come,” he said taking her hand, “We will practice sitting today, when I see you can sit for a few minutes we will practice something else.” She followed reluctantly.

The children were still meditating. Master Xin knelt at the front of the group and gestured for Remi to join them. She sat as they did, and bowed her head as they did, but her eyes wandered around covertly, her hands fidgeting as if she counted the seconds until she would be allowed to move again.

An explosion from the front of the temple brought them all to their feet.

Padawan Oliver ran into the room calling, “The Sith are attacking the temple.”

“Quickly, we must get the children to safety.” They herded the children to the lower exit, which led to a bridge. From there they could escape into the city. Before they reached the exit a Sith caught sight of the group, he smiled cruelly and ran toward them. Padawan Oliver led the children across the bridge where they waited for their master.

As Master Xin held off the Sith, several explosions rocked the foundations of the Jedi Temple. The bridge began to crack. The Sith eyed the alien Jedi and ripped off his mask with a burst of force. Without his mask and goggles, Master Xin could neither see nor breathe. The Sith prepared to finish him.

“Stay here,” Oliver commanded and ran across the crumbling bridge to aid his master. Another shockwave ripped through the temple’s foundations and the bridge gave way just as Oliver made it to the other side.

The Kel Dor pulled his mask to his hands and put it back on. He looked up to see his Padawan fighting the Sith while the children huddled together at the far side of the broken bridge. He charged the two fighters interrupting the Sith’s attack knocking him off his feet with a blast of force.

“Protect the children,” Xin commanded. His voice was stern and harsh, for the first time his Padawan heard the difference. Oliver ran to the end of the broken bridge and leaped fearlessly to the other side.

The children watched Padawan Oliver jump toward them. He flew strangely, first he rushed toward them quickly, then he seemed to slow and almost fall, panic suffused his features. Then he floated toward them, his arms wind milling, and his legs sought the edge of the bridge. He landed almost gently and broke the rest of his fall with a roll. The children surrounded him, all terrified of the shockwaves and noises, all except Remi who seemed unperturbed by explosions. She stood at the edge of the bridge watching Master Xin. His hand had extended, focusing his power to help Oliver across the chasm. He saved his Padawan, then turned to fight the Sith, this time not holding back, using saber and force both to fight the larger heavily armored man.

Oliver grabbed Remi’s arm and pulled her away she followed but kept looking back at the Jedi Master.

Oliver found a shelter that would hide him and the children, the Sith would kill any Jedi and take any force sensitive children. The children were confused and afraid as the explosions continued into the night. Oliver awoke and surveyed his charges. They had all fallen into an exhausted sleep in the bedrolls provided by the shelter, all except one. Remi was missing.

Trying not to panic, Oliver crept quietly out of the small sleeping room. He did not have to go far, just outside in the hallway so she would not disturb anyone, Remi knelt on the cold hallway floor, her posture relaxed, her eyes closed, trying to meditate.

2 ideas that came from Tython

1. The padawan that almost shoots the Kel Dor master. I was reading about Kel Dor, their strange looks, the reason for their masks, the voice distortion thingy. I wanted to write about one. Nai Xin means patience (i think). I'm kind of in love with Master Xin now that I've written him, I hope he survived the Sacking.

2. If you choose to help the force sensitive flesh raider and you go to convince them to take him in, the Jedi will ask you why and you can choose something like "You've had worse." and what you say is "You trained me didn't you?" and the Jedi says something like "I've heard stories." So this is part of that.

So I recognize that I used to have a Pierce writing addiction and now I have a Scourge writing addiction. I have zero writing ideas because I'm trying not to write about them. I need to find another lovely BT3 to crush on. Anyone have any recommendations?

The bell for dinner rang, but Miriah ignored it. Her final exam was in the morning, and she figured she needed every minute to study. This would complete her freshman year at military academy, and she would go to Maura’s graduation next week. She had some energy bars stuffed in a drawer, she could make do with that. Who would have ever thought that when she’d decided to follow her sister to military academy, she’d love it? She sure didn’t. She didn’t even tell her mom before she left for Coruscant, not as if she cared anyway. Her size was almost a disqualifier, but she squeaked by the screeners. She aced her academic classes last term, and this term, her first hands-on flight class had been amazing. Her instructor liked her, maybe a little too much. She dismissed some of his comments since she was the only female in the class and figured it was just normal.

She stayed up all night, using her imagination to simulate flight in her mind and practice her hand movements. Because her hands were small, she had to be creative in some of the adjustment and throttle settings. At two am, she decided a brisk walk around the quad would clear her mind and give her a boost. She saw Maura there, with some of her friends, no doubt after a party for those graduating.

“Hey, sis. Up studying?” Maura asked her. She nodded, and waved as she jogged past. Maura shook her head, her sister had never shown this level of determination about anything before, and Maura was proud of her for sticking out her freshman year with excellent grades and a good reputation among the class.

The hours passed in a blur of instrumentation and numbers, and the exam time was approaching. She knew the exams were given on a one-on-one basis, so she wasn’t surprised to see that she was alone with her instructor. They made their way onto the simulator and she started the preflight checklist, humming softly to herself. Feeling confident, she sailed through the exam and was sure she’d done well. When she turned to the instructor to ask when the marks would be posted, she was suddenly aware that he’d moved closer to her, invading her space. He held her future in his hands, and she was trapped.

“So, little girl, what exactly would you do for a good grade? Hmm? I mean, women aren’t exactly the best pilots, but they do other stuff really well.” He pressed himself to her, leaving little doubt what she’d have to do to pass the class.

Her mind whirled. She’d slept with men before, but not against her will. She could do this, but then how could she live with herself? Her decision made, her dream disappearing quickly, she grabbed the much bigger man’s shoulders and kicked his special place as hard as she could. She could still hear his strangled groans as she ran from the room.

She packed her things through her tears. Why? Why do these things always happen to me? She grabbed her gear, dragging the large bags through the barracks halls to the taxi. She cried, not only for her now shattered dream of being a military pilot, but of failing, once again, to achieve something she wanted. When she reached the spaceport, of course, all the shuttles off Coruscant were booked. She sat, defeated, on her gear bag, her head in her hands. She’d been sitting there for about an hour when she heard a freighter land, and looked up to see a handsome man in leatheris armor, blasters on each hip, swagger down the ramp of the ship. Something about the walk, the confidence of this man intrigued her. I bet he’s a pilot, she told herself. I bet no one ever messes with him. She knew he was a smuggler, but really, was it a bad life to have?

Suddenly she grinned her trademark grin, and realized she could still be a pilot. She stowed her gear with a porter droid, and ran after the smuggler, hoping he had some room on his crew.

7 ATC

I cried the night the last Imperial transport left Kegled II. I don't know a soul on that planet who didn't. For thirteen years the brutal Imperial occupation ravaged us, robbed us, and tried to break us.

We're made of tougher stuff than that.

A lot of us were gathered in the local resistance HQ. The Imps had been dismantling their operation for weeks; on this night we all went topside to watch the last transports lift off from the spaceport and streak away.

Somewhere in the middle of the cheering I started walking. I dunno, I just wanted some time alone. I hopped up to swing onto the fire escape ladder on a nearby building and climbed up to perch on the edge of the roof and look out over West Ford City. My home, finally free.

That meant a lot of cleared records all around. My brother especially. Some of us resistance people were better than others at staying under the radar. I had a few outstanding warrants on account of I never met an Imp I didn't try to punch, strangle, or shoot. It didn't bother me much. But Kirsk, Kirsk was something else. He never took a combat assignment, but he loved to show up Imperial security with a slick slicing job or a daring theft. He always framed it to be as embarrassing as possible for the Imps he was messing with. I was run-of-the-mill scum to the Imps; he was an active, humiliating, spectacularly expensive sore spot. They didn't have his face – a point of pride for him as he walked down the street greeting Imp patrols – but if they ever attached the misdeeds of the fictional Smiling Bek to my brother, he would've been in for a world of hurt.

All in the past. Nobody was coming to arrest us now.

Habit propelled me to my feet and got my blaster ready when somebody opened the roof door behind me. It was just my friend Flash, though.

"Hey," he said. "Don't shoot."

"Hey," I said.

"Nice light show, huh?"

"The last streak was really the kicker."

"Yeah." Flash came up to stand beside me at the roof's edge and look out at the bright night city. "So, you coming with us next week?"

"What?"

"Word went out right after liftoff. Republic army's recruiting. Not here, of course, because there is no Republic presence here." We shared the standard, knowing snort at that. "But," he continued, "if a bunch of us should happen to stop by the recruitment office on Coruscant, I have it on good authority we won't be turned away."

This was news to me. "I…wasn't planning on it."

"Oh? What was your plan, then?"

"I hadn't really thought about it. We just cleared this place out, Flash. I've gotta get back home. You know I haven't been able to stay overnight with Mama and Kirsk for years. I've gotta make sure the shop's running all right, see that Mama's got the help she needs with it. That's where I belong."

"You're kidding, right?"

"I've been fighting for Kegled II. She's free now. It's about time I got back to my family."

"Vierce. You been dreaming about killing Imperials, training to kill Imperials, or killing Imperials, since before you lost your baby teeth. You gonna stop now just because we ran out of 'em on this planet?"

I thought about it for a while.

Flash gave me some time. Then, "Your mother will understand. And there's other planets out there have it as bad as we did. You join up with us, we can take care of that."

"There is that."

"I can't think of a better way to pay the Republic back for all the support they snuck us. Besides, it'll be fun. Join the Army, see the galaxy, cultivate the mystique of the dangerous rebel veteran…"

"Now you sound like Kirsk."

"Kid knows what he's about. Well, sometimes. I'll see you later, then. Right?"

I looked up at the stars. Something about it felt right. "Yeah. You will."

Flash headed out, and after a little while I went on back to HQ. The party was ongoing. I bumped into Kirsk on my way in; he had his arm around a pretty blonde I had seen around once or twice. He caught something in my face. He does that. "You're shipping out, aren'tcha?" he said cheerfully.

"Did everyone know about this Republic bandwagon but me?"

"Well, that's why I'm the intelligence guy and you're the thug. Lucky you, you have me to clue you in on these things."

"Right. Well, I am going. Not right this minute, but I'm going."

He shook his head and passed a hand over his slicked-back hair. "Thought you might. You are officially no longer allowed to call me the idiot in this family. Still. Pop two or three for me, wouldja?"

"Believe me, more than two or three will be getting theirs in this operation. You'll look after Mama, right?"

"Yeah, sure. If you're gonna flake out on us, I'll just have to step up." He smiled widely. "See you at home tomorrow." Then, to his girl, "Come on, gorgeous." They headed out.

I made a last round of the festivities, shaking hands and hugging what few friends have hugging privileges, and then I headed home. Tonight of all nights, Mama could use my company. And after everything we went through to get here, I could use hers. Doubly so if I was going to turn around and leave next week.

Seems I'm never home for long these days.

I feel I should assert that Vierce isn't a complete dolt. But he is not book-learned and he is neither as cunning nor as snarky as his brother. Vierce is more the understated sensible type, or tries to be.

She had turned 16 three days ago. As a birthday present, the Galactic Republic had voted to cut funding to the military, a couple of outlying planets' educational systems and to give themselves a raise. Oh, and they allocated new funds to fix the worker droids on the upper levels of Coruscant. Can't have the Senate Tower awash in trash.

There was a war going on and she had decided that she would be damned if she was going to be on the losing side of it. So she was up and dressing in the dark, pulling dark clothing over her dusky skin and hiding her brown hair under a hood. It was time to go. She hoped she wouldn't have to go alone.

It wasn't that life was bad for her. She was fortunate; born into a well respected family, they held important places in the Republic. Her ex military father had married her diplomat mother and followed her into that service. Alderaan, ruled under House Panteer and the Republic, was home. It was a beautiful world. If you just looked at the surface.

There was hunger and turmoil even on this world. She couldn't imagine what life was like on worlds in the Outer Rim, or close to the unknown regions. Empty promises, empty minds and empty bellies. She was going where she was needed, where she could make a difference. And get paid some credits.

+++

She was woken out of a dead sleep by a gentle shaking. Her name was whispered in the dark, questioning at first, then more urgent. Groggy and annoyed Ipha Kodrevas cracked one green eye open and peered at the shape next to her bed. She didn't need light to see it was her sister Brei'yu, the spill of dark hair and delicate silhouette of a pointed chin did that for her. She lifted her head off the pillow, looked around and saw the time.

“What's wrong?” Ipha murmured, settling her head down on her pillow and blinking up at Brei with eyes that were still fogged with sleep.

“Are you awake?” Brei'yu whispered fiercely.

“Nope,” Ipha answered, not missing a beat. “I'm sleeping, you're sleeping, it's three in the morning, everyone is sleeping. What do you want?”

Brei'yu sat on the edge of the bed, making a dip in the mattress that forced Ipha's body to roll forward and onto her face. Ipha heaved a sigh into the pillow then decided it felt good and just stayed where she was. Brei shook her shoulder. “Don't fall asleep again.”

Ipha grumbled something unattractive into the pillow. She finally rolled onto her back when Brei'yu shook her again. “Honestly, Brei. What do you want?”

“I'm leaving. I want you to come with me.”

“I don't feel like sneaking out tonight. It's cold and it's too late to do anything.” Ipha ran her hand through her hair and looked at the time again. “Shoulda got me up like three hours ago. We could have snuck out to Tep's place.”

“I'm going to House Thul.”

Ipha snorted. “I wouldn't be caught dead going to a Thul party. And you should stay away from them too. It looks bad on Father when you make nice with Imperials.”

“Ipha. I'm going to Dromund Kaas. I'm leaving tonight and I want you come with me.” Brei'yu got up and started hunting around for a bag. “You can't take much. Some clothes and some credits. But we have to get out now because my contacts are waiting for me.”

Ipha sat up slowly, dread starting to build in her chest. “Contacts? What are you talking about? What have those Thul kids been telling you?”

Brei pushed the curtains aside and looked quickly out the window. “We're losing this war, Ipha. The Senate are idiots and corrupt and moronic.”

“Idiot and moronic mean the same thing,” Ipha said quietly.

“Whatever. They pretend they're high and righteous but they aren't, are they? No, they're greedy and stupid. The Empire is going to crush them and I don't want to be here when it happens.”

“And the Empire is better?” Even at 14 Ipha had heard stories. The same ones Brei'yu had. Stories about terrible Sith, stories about slavery and hardship and death. “You have to be crazy.”

The light from the window caught Brei's eyes, making them shine. For a moment, Ipha didn't recognize her own sister. “Do you have any idea how far we can make it in the Empire? What people would be willing to give us for the things that we know?”

“You're 16, what do you know?” Ipha challenged.

Brei'yu looked away. “I know that the Republic is going no where fast. I know that it's going to collapse under the weight of its own inefficiency and greed and corruptness.”

“So you're going to defect to the Imperials, because they certainly aren't corrupt. And you're certainly not going to run into a Sith who's going to Force choke the stupid out of you before he kills you.”

Brei'yu fisted her hands on her hips. The Sith were her only hiccup. She hated the Sith. But she could avoid them. Her Force sensitivity was low, so low she had hid it from the Jedi. Sith would ignore her and she would be fine. “I can handle a Sith.”

Ipha gave an angry snort that was meant to be a laugh but was too scared to come out as such. “This is insane. I'm going to wake up Father and Mother. They'll talk some sense into you. And they really aren't going to let you anywhere near House Thul or Cortess anymore.”

Brei'yu tackled Ipha to the bed. “You can't tell anyone until I'm gone. Promise me!”

“Brei. Don't be stupid. I don't know who you've been talking to or what they've been telling you but it isn't any better in Imperial space. It's worse. They just outright kill people there. No trials, no justice, just death! It's horrible. No where is perfect, it's never going to be. Just stay home okay? Stay here with me.”

Brei'yu relaxed and moved off her sister. She looked to the window and thought about her contacts waiting in the cold to take her to Dromund Kaas. She'd already talked to the Watcher, there was a place for her in the next Intelligence class. Ipha had no idea how long ago the plans had started, how deep the wheels of action were. Her poor deluded sister. She would have to go alone.

“I'm sorry, Ipha,” Brei'yu whispered.

“It's okay, just don't scare me like that again. You want to sleep-” her words were cut off when Brei'yu *****ed her with a syringe. “Ow, what the hell was that?”

“I can't have you telling anyone I'm gone yet. Tell Nicci I love her and tell Mavae to behave. Tell Mother and Father I'm going where I'm needed.”

Ipha's mouth moved but the sedative was already taking her under. She tried to say Brei's name, tried to reach out to her but darkness swallowed her, leaving her in silence.

She was woken out of a dead sleep by a vicious shaking. Her name was being called relentlessly. Groaning, groggy, Ipha curled up into herself. Her body was shook again.

“Ipha! What is wrong with you? Wake up.”

Ipha peeled her eyes open and saw sunlight streaming through the window. She sat up abruptly, or tried to, her body didn't fully want to cooperate yet. “Where's Brei?” she slurred. Her eldest sister helped her sit up.

“I was about to ask you the same question. Did you two sneak out again last night?”

Ipha pushed out of bed and stumbled into Brei'yu's room. Everything looked normal but it felt empty. Mother came by, standing behind Nicci, her expression fierce.

“Where is she? If I find out you two snuck out last night, you're both grounded until you're 18.”

Ipha collapsed against the doorway. “She's gone,” she murmured in disbelief. “She's really gone.”

“Gone?” Mother asked, her voice pitched with something akin to panic. “What do you mean gone?”

Nicci held up the syringe Brei'yu had dropped on Ipha's bedroom floor. “Ipha? What is this?”

“Brei'yu defected,” Ipha said tiredly. “She went to Dromund Kaas.”

“No.” Mother ran to the front door and threw it wide open, as though she could catch Brei'yu's retreating back, bring her home again. Nicci looked horrified and Ipha felt the first tears burn her throat.

Brei'yu was already beyond their reach. House Panteer regretfully told them there was nothing to be done. Three private shuttles had taken off from House Thul and House Cortess during the night. There was no way to track which one she had been on.

Ipha sat at her desk in her bedroom, listening to the voices of House Panteer and the Republic's law enforcement. Mother was sobbing. Father's voice was dull and angry. Mavae wailed and was taken from the house by Nicci.

Her sister was an idiot. Her sister was dead to her.

Ipha turned to her little computer console and brought up the Holonet. She keyed into the Republic military's homepage and sat, staring at the strong woman with the autocannon shooting down faceless Imperial soldiers.

There was a motivational quote splashed across the front of the page by someone named Commander Jek Kardan, special forces unit 326. Ipha read it and read it again.

“The only way we'll lose this war, the only way that the evil of tyranny and hate will win, is if good people stand by and do nothing.”

There was a 'send me more info' option below the quote. Ipha clicked it, put in her information.

I've said before that Brei'yu is stupid. I tried to convey the ignorance of a 16 year old that thinks she knows everything but really knows nothing. Ipha came out a little more mature than I intended, but compare to Brei'yu's idiocy, someone had to be a voice of reason.

This takes place about two years before the Treaty of Coruscant. I'm horrible with dates in this galaxy. Ipha and Brei'yu are about a year and half apart in age so they were pretty close as kids. I just want to say again that Brei'yu is dumb. She smartens up a little as an adult when she starts to see how the world really works but she reminds me of an armchair activist. If that makes sense.

Skari gritted her teeth as the flunky’s flailing weight at the end of her fist aggravated the already aching wound in her shoulder. It was almost getting to the same pain level as the half-patched wound in her side, the blaster graze on her skull, and the wrenched ankle.

“Now, call your boss, you f**king idiot,” she snarled, throwing him back into his chair.

“He-he is Lord Tamolko, and…” he gulped and stopped the officious officiousness that was close to getting him killed. Apparently some survival instinct had been jarred to life by her wordless growl and death-glare. He pushed a button and spoke into the intercom, “Lord Tamolko, there’s a…uh, that is…the bounty hunter you hired has returned.”

“Send her in.” Could he sound more bored? Stupid Alderaanian nobles, they all needed kicked…and hit…and possibly set on fire.

Skari dragged the body she’d been sent for into the study full of priceless heirlooms and ancient treasures. She hoped the blood stained the carpet. Blasted body was heavy. Would have been easier to haul with Torian’s help, but she’d sent him back to the ship with Mako and a crapload of kolto.

Lord Tamolko looked up from his correspondence. “Ah, good, I see you took care of…” he looked at the body and his eyes got very wide.

Skari crossed her arms in front of her and glared. “There a problem?” She was pretty sure her jaw was going to ache for days, clenching it was not helping.

“That’s not Baron Admarark.”

“Like hell it isn’t.”

“I can’t believe it,” he said, standing and walking in a slow circle around the body.

Skari could feel the last bit of her patience slipping away. “Considering I just fought through waves of hardcore Trandoshian mercenaries on an estate I was told had defenses that were a joke, you’d better start talking.”

Lord Tamolko looked up at her, startled, as if he’d forgotten she was there. “This is Count Ramall. He is…or rather, was…considered untouchable. Paranoid, kept to himself. Built a blasted fortress with turrets and guards and….”

“Yeah. I’ve seen it.”

He chuckled. “Unbelievable. The coordinates we gave you must have been switched.” He walked over to his desk and sat down again.

“My creds?” Skari snapped.

Tamolko glanced up at her and raised an eyebrow, “That is hardly my concern. This was the wrong target.”

Skari started to pull her blaster to end his miserable, entitled life, and then remembered that her crew was sitting in his dock riddled with blaster burns. On a good day, yeah, but this…this was anything but a good day.

She swiped a small statue that looked old off the desk, ignoring Lord Tamolko’s protest. “For my expenses,” she threw over her shoulder, daring him to make a fuss.

By the time she got back to her ship, her body felt like one huge ache. She headed directly for the med bay, as bare bones as it was.

“How’d it go?” Mako asked her, activating medical probes as Skari walked in. Blizz was jabbering at Torian who was stretched out on one of the beds. Gault had a black eye but mostly he looked irritated at having his space invaded.

“What’s this worth?” Skari said, tossing him the statue.

“What? We’re taking payment in paperweight now?” he mocked as he caught the statue. He looked it over, tapped it a few times, and weighed it. “I don’t know who sold this to your guy, but he did a fabulous job.”

Skari groaned. “Fake?”

“As my Imperial ID.”

“Great.” She walked over to Torian’s side. “How you holding up, kid?”

“I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth, trying to get to his feet.

“Don’t you dare!” Mako scolded him, pushing him gently back down.

“She’s right,” Skari said, “rest, recover, you’ll be back fighting faster that way.”

Torian nodded tiredly and settled back in.

Skari sighed, grabbed two kolto packs, a bottle from Gault’s stash, and headed for the bridge. She settled into her chair, propped the kolto on the worst of the wounds, and took a drink from the bottle. And then spit it out.

“Damn it, Gault! What did you do to this wine?!?”

“I told you not to raid my stash,” his voice echoed up through the ship.

Skari let her head fall back against the chair. Some days it did not pay to get up in the morning.

I've decided that the What if prompt from the other day involving the early demise of a certain crew member will be a permanent part of my head cannon, simply because I STILL cannot come up with a scenario in which Skari would have made him part of the crew. So that's the whole group there, the kids, the pet, and the smart a**. No wonder she needs a drink

If you are a mother who has ever lost a child through miscarriage or still birth, read at your own risk.

Avacynne lay on the refresher floor, there was blood, a lot of blood, her pants lay in a wad beside her, the faintly metallic scent permeated the room, and it was still coming. Her abdomen cramped again, the pain was blinding, and she winced audibly. How could something so small hurt so much. How delicate life was.

They were on Corellia, and a Selonian got a lucky shot in, kicked her in the gut, and at first it had been nothing. It had been a feeling of faint unease, as it dislodged from her, escaping the warm confines. As the day wore on the pain started to build, the bleeding had started, and Ava couldn’t stop it. How quickly dreams were dashed.

Not two days earlier she had bounded up to Torian with the biggest **** eating grin, the little plastic wand blinked positive. They were going to have a baby, an actual baby, something neither of them had thought possible, or at least unlikely with their differing genetics. The wand had blinked happily, and Torian had jumped and hooted and hollered and been so excited.

A lucky shot, Ava held back, Torian got in close, it’s how they worked, they were a cohesive unit when they fought. Dance partners, reading each move. It never occurred to her to stop, to cancel her contracts, her stomach was still flat, and despite the blinking positive wand, a baby was still an idea in both their minds. She was a Mandalorian, it wasn’t uncommon for female warriors to fight through their pregnancies. A lucky shot, the Selonian kicked her in the gut, something that under normal circumstances would have been inconsequential. Today, the consequences were devastating.

She lay on the fresher floor, as her womb expelled the rest of what could have been. How quickly a mother bonds, in two days, names, a future, hope, excitement, trepidation, anxiety, and love. Ava bit her fist, as her womb clenched again. She was empty again, surrounded by what would have held and nourished her budding child, it was all gone now and Ava mourned her lost baby, and everything it could have been.

"No," said Corso into the pillow.

"Yes," I said, and yanked at his arm again.

"'s warm."

"It'll be warmer when we get paid."

He turned his head, just enough for his mouth to clear the pillow. "You know I trust you, captain, but I'm not entirely sure you're right about that."

"I will otherwise make it worth your while?" I tried.

"Hm." He smiled that ridiculously cute smile. "Okay."

We left the girls to work on the Blast Radius and headed out to Senth Outpost, the Republic place we'd been referred to for odd jobs while our big game plodded onward. I couldn't wait to get off Hoth. Like I said, big game, but the in-between stuff was just miserable, and it paid in millicredits.

We reached Senth and found the guy in charge conferring with an Imperial. Slick dark hair, big dark eyes, killer fit uniform. Body. Uniform. Whatever. The way some Imperials wear it, it's hard to tell the difference. I think hot officers are the way the Empire makes up for all their Sith Lords being on the far grotesque end of ugly.

The Republic guy, Lieutenant Kieral, waved us over. "The contractors Command sent along, aren't you? Welcome."

"What's an Imperial doing here?" blurted Corso. My boyfriend, the diplomat.

The Imperial took it in stride. "Captain Biron," he said, in an accent I can't really describe except in terms of the weakness it left in my knees. He bowed slightly. "I am here to discuss the matter of a common enemy."

"The Hailstorm Brotherhood," said Kieral. "That's what you two are here for. The commander didn't send me your names...?"

"Captain Nic," I supplied. I saved the eye contact for Biron and offered a hand. With a small amused smile he shook it. "This is my associate Corso Riggs."

"Her partner," clarified Corso, glaring at Biron. The officer's small amused smile stayed on.

"So," I said, "Hailstorm Brotherhood. I've heard of them. Extreme survivalist club, isn't it? Not quite right in the head?"

"Right in the head or not," said Biron – oh, I wanted him talking, that liquid thing he did with his 'o's was just delectable – "they pose a significant danger to both this facility and our own Thesh outpost. And neither of us has the power to remove them on our own. Hence I was just proposing a joint strike on their fortress, the Chilling Death Spire."

I burst out laughing. "The Chilling Death Spire?"

"That's what I said when I first came here," said Kieral. "But it's no joke."

"Exact objective once we get the gate?" I asked Biron. I had no interest in listening to the Republic guy jabber.

"We're after their leader, one Master Sav. He is the prime threat, the Brotherhood's leader and motivator. The plan is for me to accompany my squad while Kieral sends a squad under Sergeant Katcho. We will rendezvous first thing in the morning, enter the Spire, and eliminate Master Sav. For now, I should be on my way." Biron nodded courteously to Lieutenant Kieral and walked off. I watched him go until Corso cleared his throat. I gave Corso a sheepish look – I was working on that behavior, honest – and we moved on.

In the morning I rose early, ate fast, and settled down to clean my blasters. You need everything in tight order under Hoth's conditions. The ice blows any flaw into an equipment-killer within hours.

A big guy walked up to me and settled on the chair across from me. "Merc, right? Captain Nic?"

I greeted him with a smile. "That's me."

"Sergeant Katcho. I'll be leading the Republic squad in today's 'joint operation'."

"Fantastic. Hope you like ice with your ice."

"The plan's not quite what Kieral described."

"Oh?"

"Here's the thing, uh, Nic. I know this Biron guy. He's as bad as Imperials get, and his specialty is traps. By my guess, he'll use us to clear out the Brotherhood, then wipe us out. I intend to strike before that happens."

"That's a tad more bloodshed than I signed on for, Sarge."

"I'll make it worth your while. Above and beyond your fee for showing up. Will you be ready to help when the time comes?"

For the Republic? For another fifty credits or whatever this joker would pay? Against a truly intriguing individual who might be able to hook me up with better work? "Yeah," I said. "I'll be ready." Just not necessarily in the way he expected.

*

When we hit the yard, Corso's speeder wouldn't start up. I took a quick look and found the inner motivator casing had cracked in the cold. Corso immediately went to Kieral for a loaner, but Kieral insisted everything else around was for the troops' use. No merc was going to ride off with one.

"I'll ride with you," Corso told me.

"Out here? We don't have the fuel to carry both of us there and back, hon. Hold down the fort around here, okay?"

"I don't like you going out there alone."

"You never do. I'll live. Promise."

"Nic, this isn't –"

"I can handle it," I snapped. And immediately regretted it. I hated lashing that sad look into those puppy eyes. It's just that sometimes he's so…stifling.

"Be careful," he told me.

"Always." I kissed his nose and let him kiss mine. And kept my relief to myself. To be honest, with what I expected to go down, it would be good to have him out of the crossfire.

We met with the Imperial squad a couple of clicks away from the Trying Too Hard Spire itself. It was a huge thing, tall, narrow, built entirely from ice by the Brotherhood cultists. I guess everybody has to have a hobby.

While the troops did a weapons check, I meandered over to where Biron was staring up at the spire. "Fine morning," I offered.

"Clear and windless? As fine as Hoth gets. For once we won't be battling the elements in addition to the Brotherhood."

"I'm impressed you came out here. Most Republic commanders I've dealt with have been giving orders from heated offices."

"The Empire does things differently," he said with a small sly smile.

"The guys who go out there hands-on, they get things done." I let myself look him over before continuing. "If the Empire does pay grades differently we might talk after this job."

"I was under the impression that the Republic sponsored your work."

"Not exclusively. Just that I don't have a whole lot of other contacts here. If I were here for ideology I'd be in uniform."

"In that case, we might talk afterward."

"Good. Good. Look, since we're getting along so well, there's something you should know."

"And what's that?"

"My sergeant friend there wants to make trouble. Seems he thinks you're going to pull something once we've taken Sav down. And he thinks a preemptive strike is a great idea."

Biron shot Katcho a dirty look. "I wish I could say I'm surprised," he said.

"Thought you should know. Be ready."

When he looked back at me, those big dark eyes were like twin blaster barrels with the first gleam of a shot coming up in them. "What's your interest in this?"

"Told you, I'm scouting for new business opportunities. Plus I don't like that kind of double-dealing. I plan on standing against whoever opens fire."

"Well, then. Thank you for the warning."

Katcho called go. I tucked my scarf over my face and we got moving.

*

The Spire was a hard fight, enough to keep my blasters hot for a couple of hours straight. Master Sav awaited us at the top; Sparkles and Flashy interrupted him after ten seconds of monologue, since really, I wasn't there to hear about his philosophy.

The minute Sav was down, the Imperials started off in different directions to secure side rooms. Sergeant Katcho moved up by me and talked into his comlink. "All units, find an Imperial. Reinforce their positions with small arms. Move out." Katcho nodded at me. "Showtime."

He swung his cannon to point at Captain Biron. I shot the sergeant before he could pull the trigger.

The place exploded with blaster fire in all directions. I took cover and picked off my share of the backstabbing 'Pubs. Every shot felt more like it was time for a change of scene.

I saw a couple of Imps pointing my way once the Republic squad was down. "Hold up, hold up!" I yelled. Biron raised a hand and the shooting stopped. "I'm not part of your squabble."

"Captain?" said one of the Imperial troopers.

Biron looked at me for a too-long moment, then dropped his hand. "Hold your fire. The mercenary is coming with us. Lower your weapons, miss."

"Certainly, captain."

I fell in line with them. Biron walked beside me. "I take it you won't want to brave the snows back to Senth alone. Come warm up with us; we'll talk from there."

"Sounds good to me." I could negotiate getting home later.

So I went with the Imps back to Thesh Outpost. I'd never been in an Imperial military facility before; funnily enough, the risk-reward analysis on those always comes out STAY AWAY AT ALL COSTS. What I saw on the way in indicated that the place didn't get any softer once you were past the outer defenses.

Biron sent his men about their business, including one to report Katcho's aggression to the Republic outpost, and then gestured for me to come into a conference room. I got the distinct impression that this conversation would have major implications for my life expectancy.

I liked the way he was looking at me, though. "Thank you again," he said. "Your tip was very helpful."

"My pleasure. I didn't like the smell of the deal they offered me."

"Nor the credits, I imagine."

"Yeah." I gave him another bold look. " They'd have to pay me a lot more than they were offering to have me mess up a face like yours."

"I'm flattered." He returned the look, and suddenly that entitled air Imps get sometimes started oozing through his cordiality. "You know, this visit doesn't have to be all business."

I would've been worried or creeped out or something, except I really didn't have a problem with the idea. Corso wouldn't like it, but I was trapped in here with zero support, so his preferences would have to wait. "You read my mind, captain."

*

We were just getting dressed when somebody pounded on the door to his quarters. "A moment," called Biron. The knocking continued.

Biron struggled to tuck in his shirt. "Come in, then." The door slid open. There, between a pair of troopers, was Corso Riggs.

He took one look at the bed and glared daggers at Biron. "Am I interrupting?" he said tensely.

The trooper on the left spoke. "He's from the Republic base, sir. Says he's here to negotiate the merc's release. He was…very insistent."

"Yes, of course." Biron joined his hands behind his back and smiled thinly. "The incident your people instigated was an outrage and there will be words with your superiors, but happily, the civilian contractor did survive." I kept my head high and my eyes on Corso. He didn't know what to do just yet, but at least determination was ahead of anger so far. "It would be not only an outrage but a tragedy to lose someone of her...skills."

Hm. Yeah. He had to get that shot in. Corso winced. "If she's free to go," he said, "I'm done here."

"Of course." Biron turned his attention to me and bowed. "We'll talk, miss, if you have any further concerns."

"Works for me." I scooped my blasters up from beside his bunk, fitted them back in their holsters, and swept past Corso, out through the base into the trackless white.

We grabbed our speeders. I adjusted my helmet for a snug fit, mounted up, and accelerated alongside Corso in the direction of the Republic base.

We hit comfortable cruising speed, then Corso kept pushing. I sped up to stay with him and he just kept going faster: past safe visibility, past safe turning, very close to the edge of sustainable motivator operation. Well, fine then. I kept pace. For a minute or more there was only the streaming roar of the wind and the strain of my nerves against a world coming at me too fast.

Then, abruptly, he braked. Hard enough that I feared my neck might snap when I braked alongside him. We lurched to a halt, leaving a slick trail of icemelt behind us.

Corso took off his helmet. I took off mine. It was best to get this done now, away from witnesses.

I decided to forestall the first and lesser accusation. "After that fight he would've killed me."

"I heard you, Nic. You weren't scared and that wasn't some kind of desperate move."

"If it wasn't convincing it wouldn't work. Imps don't give good terms to sobbing victims."

He shook his head. "The world through your eyes. I keep thinking you'll change, but...you never do, do you?"

"I've been trying!" Mostly, when I wasn't bored.

"Not hard enough. Even before you went for this mission, the way you talked to him, and then this...." He paused and seemed to struggle with his thoughts. "Why were you the only Republic person to survive?"

"Because I surrendered?"

"And they just decided to play nice, huh? Did you even fight for our side?"

And here was the limit of what coming clean could help with. "Yes," I lied. "Look, I tried to prevent a dustup. On both sides. Ask the captain if you don't believe me."

"You'll forgive me if I don't take the Imperial's word. And then you..." He threw up his hands. "Did you plan this from the beginning? With him? For some hugely profitable reason I can't figure out?"

"Of course not. Now you're being paranoid."

"Maybe I'm paranoid, but you're the sole survivor and you just slept with the enemy who did it! Is that why you left me behind? So you could...no. No. If you walk into our base and expect anybody to do anything less than arrest you...that's your warning, okay? I'm out of here. We're done. Don't wait up for me, and don't come looking for me."

He started moving before he had his helmet fully on. I could only stare as he vanished into the windblown snow.

Did he mean it? Probably not. Still, the sheer excitement I had felt with Biron...and Corso was getting awfully hung up on the Republic angle. Perhaps it was time to do things my way. For the first time in a while.

I swung wide of the Republic outpost just in case he was serious about arrest. Now that things were settling, I realized my heart was pounding. If he was gone, really gone, that changed everything. And, I thought, I liked that prospect. I liked it a lot.

It was about time I stopped asking permission to live.

I gave that romance line a fair shot! Sort of. Nope, can't do nice boys with my id-driven mercenary nor possessive boys at all. So yeah, I had to get rid of this companion plot.

Corso does get seriously hostile if you insist on going your own way. It was really, really unpleasant to play, and I never pushed his conversation line past 6k affection.

Nic never had any reason to avoid the Empire, apart from disliking getting Force shocked. As for finding officers attractive, well, yes, the author has a type.

My Love,

If you knew I was writing this letter, you would laugh at me. Today the Emperor enacted the changes you set in motion years ago. Children born with force sensitivity will no longer be taken to Korriban by law, their parents will be given a choice. If the child is weak he may remain where he is though he will be monitored, if the child is strong he may be sent to the Jedi though the family will be exiled, and if they choose the Sith for the child they will be given a land grant and a tax break.

There was little fanfare about the enactment and enforcement will be difficult, but the words appearing on record are something I never thought I would see. Now every child will be given the choice you once fought to give to our son. I was invited to the ceremony where I was able to watch lawmakers sign documents. You would have found it dull, and it was, nevertheless I was proud to witness your dream become a fragile reality.

There was a projection of you at the ceremony. Your hair was never that hue of red and they could never hope to capture the gold of your eyes. However, it did vaguely resemble you, if you were a tall stern looking Sith scholar. You would laugh. You are known to all as a powerful and wise Sith who continued to follow the light path but turned away from the Jedi to aid in bringing the Empire back to its founding principles: efficiency, honor, and power.

It occurred to me then, that no one knows you and even history cannot remember who you really were. No one remembers your kindness, your humor, your strength all out of proportion with your stature. No one remembers how you fought the rules of the Empire every moment that you lived within it. To them you were a visionary yet still a loyal and obedient Sith.

I know you would not care what history says, and I know you would have been proud and happy today, but it occurred to me now, that you are truly gone.

Always and only yours,

Lord Grey

281 ATC.

After the death of his wife and son Scourge changes his name both to disappear and to honor Remi.

I don't know if anyone has taken the dark side choices on that one, but does he survive regardless? I'd love to see him show up down the line.