“Hey Quinny Quinn Quinn,” Vette chirped as she entered his room. She proudly showed him her haul. “I have a bottle of the finest Corellian Whiskey a couple hundred creds can buy and two glasses with ice colder than Hoth.”

Quinn sighed and spun on his stool to face her. She had been like this since Hoth. It was made worse after the incident in the hangar, an incident of which he had no recollection.

She clonked down both glasses on his desk and poured three fingers worth in each then grinned at him.

“Don’t worry about me,” she said lightly. “I can sit on the floor.”

She set the bottle of whiskey on his desk, snagged her drink, and sat down on the floor with her legs crossed.

He eyed his glass warily. “What do you want, Vette?”

“To drink this fine whiskey with my friend.”

He glowered at her. “You can stop lying. What do you want?”

“Ugh,” she sighed. She chugged her drink as quickly as possible, shuddered, then reached for the bottle. Quinn obliged her and poured her another. She grinned. “Look, I thought that, you know, we could talk and maybe you’d stop being a stiff bastard about anything and everything ever.”

“You try this at least once a week and leave with less information than you came in with. Why would this week be any different?”

“Because you’ll touch your drink this time?”

She had him there. He could resist a Corellian Whiskey from – he eyed the bottle – two decades in a cask? Marvelous. He picked up his glass, sniffed delicately then took a sip. His eyebrows raised a little and he made a pleased noise in the back of his throat.

“I trust it’s to your taste?” she asked, grinning at him.

“It’s fine.”

Vette snickered. It was more than fine. He loved it.

“So, I have a question for you! And it’s not super personal this time!” she said happily.

His face went blank. Her last bout of questioning was terrible and increased in horridness as she ingested more alcohol.

“I should hope not. And it’s seven.”

Vette burst into a fit of giggles. “Oh, my stars. That’s a little bigger than average, right?”

“Is that your question?” he asked stiffly.

“No, no. Just never figured you for a non-standard issue blaster.” She sniffed and tried to stop giggling. “Okay, okay. My question is: if you had unlimited credits, what would you do?”

“Buy a uniform for every week, upgrade my blaster, buy a new vibroknife, and upgrade the ship. I’d also stock the medical bay with enough supplies to last a few years,” he replied without hesitation.

“You are so boring.”

He took a drink from his glass.

“I would buy a new pair of blasters, the best looking armor money could buy, and then… I’d go on a vacation. I’d also buy all the Twi’lek artifacts I could find, but I do that already, so nothing would change on that end.”

“This has been highly informative,” Quinn said dryly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an itinerary to finish.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said as she stood up. “I can take a hint.”

“Past experience dictates otherwise.”

“Whatever. Keep the whiskey.”

He thought it strange that she left without so much as a fight. She never left without drinking at least three glasses and usually she was stumbling so much he felt it necessary to help her lest he be stuck tending to her injuries. And she left him the bottle. But now she was gone and he was confused.

And he was confused as to why he was confused.

Vette was sweating blaster bolts. She never felt like this after a night of drinking with Pierce. There was the one time they sprung for Rodian food, but she wasn’t sure if she could actually blame the food or the amount of alcohol in her stomach. Etiher way, Quinn chewed her up and spat her out when she stumbled into the medical bay and promptly covered his uniform in bright orange vomit. It reeked of strong spices and stale alcohol. He burned that uniform. Which probably didn’t help with the smell.

She stumbled her way from the couch near the holoterminal into the medical bay where Quinn was taking his daily inventory. She heard him sigh, whether it was purposely loud or he had let himself slip, she didn’t know. She did know the look on his face as he turned around was one of pure annoyance. She gave him a shaky smile, a nervous laugh then shuffled her way to a bed. He waited until she was on the bed and lying down before going to work.

There were days where he hated his job. Being a servant to the Empire was a trying endeavor at best when one was subject to the Sith, but he was subject to the Sith’s slave turned friend. He may not have minded so much if the situation were different, if say he hadn’t been under Baras’ employ and had to choose between death and death. At least Syla’s killing style was somewhat quick and painless, was his thought. It turned out to be anything but. It was too soon to be able to put this behind him, so he worked. He found ways to avoid her, ways to communicate with her without being in the same room, and ways to help her in battle without actually having to watch her fight. Those red blades were seared into his corneas, into his dreams, into his flesh. He remembered every detail. Every time those blades slashed through the air, slashed through bone and flesh, they hummed as if singing him to his grave. And it would have been the end of him if not for the annoyingly drunk Twi’lek lying in his medical bay.

As Quinn continued his thoughts and his scans, Pierce lumbered into the ‘bay and over to a cabinet.

“Take two,” Quinn said stiffly. Any more and the man would throw off his inventory. Again. Perhaps he did it on purpose.

“Need three or four. Hutt Tequila,” Pierce replied gruffly.

Quinn sighed through his nose. “Take five. Two now, one when you eat next, and two before bed.”

“Yes, Doctor Quinn,” Pierce replied with mock dutifulness. If there was one thing Quinn hated about that man, it was his penchant for mocking those above him in authority. If he wanted to get well, he’d listen, otherwise, he’d be right back in the medical bay whining over an upset stomach.

Quinn shook his head and turned his attention back to Vette in time to see her grabbing for him. She was faster than he thought she would be and so was her tongue down his throat. It wasn’t a bad feeling, he rather liked the softness of her lips. Had she been anyone else, anywhere else, he might have gone along with it. As it was, he was disgusted and sick to his stomach. He quickly wrenched her hands from his uniform and her mouth from his and ran to sink. He hunched over the sink as he coated it with the contents of his stomach.

“That’s disgusting, Quinn,” Pierce rumbled.

He agreed. Very much so. As he reached for a towel to wipe his mouth he noticed something moving inside the sink. Quickly he grabbed a container from the cabinet overhead, pulled a pair of tweezers from a drawer then snagged the wiggling thing and dropped it into the jar.

“Is that the worm?” Pierce asked as he loomed over Quinn’s shoulder to get a better look.

Quinn nodded then spat something into the jar.

“Is that a karking egg!?”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” Quinn replied stiffly. He capped the container and twisted the lid tightly. “Don’t you know, you’re never supposed to eat the worm?”

“I didn’t, Vette did.”

“Yes, and in her delirium she grabbed me, kissed me, and passed her wonderful friend to me.”

Pierce laughed for a few moments then sobered when Quinn turned his head and fixed him with a deadly glare.

“This is serious, Lieutenant,” Quinn said, his voice cold with rage. “These are parasites that breed quickly enough to kill a person in twenty four hours. Inform our Lord we need to redirect to the nearest planet with an Imperial hospital.”

Pierce blinked then ran out of the ‘bay yelling for Syla. He quickly got to work on a temporarily solution, one that would break the cycle of breeding long enough for the two of them to receive treatment. Times like these made him wonder where he went wrong with his life. Was it upsetting Broysc’s pride? Was it accepting Baras’ offer? Was it clinging to life as Syla carefully tore him to pieces? He didn’t know if he should be happy he was alive. After all, that meddlesome Twi’lek saved his life only to shove a parasitic worm down his throat after a night of binge drinking with the Lieutenant.

He swirled the finished product in its beaker and stared at it. It was the brightest green he had ever seen and it smelled vaguely of burnt grass and mint. He wasn’t looking forward to drinking this nor was he looking forward to coaxing Vette into drinking it either. Perhaps if he told her it was a Swamp Shot she would drink it without hesitation. It was worth a try at least.

He poured a dose for Vette and one for himself into two small dosage cups. They looked enough like shot glasses for his ruse to work. He was able to convince her to sit up and that it was, in fact, alcohol in the small cup, but everything nearly fell apart when he mentioned he would be drinking the second “shot” in his hand.

“I am trying the ‘loosening up’ thing you mention constantly,” he said smoothly.

“Wow, you really do listen to me,” she replied with the sincerest astonishment he had ever heard from her. She must still be drunk. “Bottoms up!”

Vette slammed her dose back then shuddered, coughed, asked just what in the void that was then fell back onto the bed, unconscious. Quinn drank his as quickly as possible, straightened Vette’s head and lekku on her pillow then tidied up the ‘bay while he waited for the ship to dock with the nearest planet with an Imperial hospital.

He had to admit he was quite surprised that two so-called connoisseurs of alcohol didn’t know to never eat the worm.

“Did you hear about what that prototype droid the Imps got their hands on did on Brentaal IV, L T?” I hated when O’Neill asked stupid questions like that; anyone with a modicum of interest in monitoring the war knew about how the droid had single-handedly captured an entire fort. The Republic had sent three full squads of Special Forces troops to try to recapture it on Nar Shaddaa and failed. Now, the rank-and-file knew why so much blood had been spilled.

“I did.” I offered him a stony glance, which shut him up quickly. Things went to hell after Havoc defected on Ord Mantell, in a hurry. Garza had tried to classify the materials related to the widespread defections in Special Operations as quickly as she could, but it had been too late, especially after that Cathar she put in charge of the reconstituted Havoc walked them right into a trap on Taris. The entire fiasco had been a black mark for all of us.

And now, we’re being sent to Taris to clean up the mess the Empire has created.

Or, so the captain had described it to the squad when he had briefed us. Truth be told, we were just a band aid being affixed to a gaping wound. The Imperials hand landed on the planet in force, and the Republic’s entire presence was in serious jeopardy, especially with the traitor Tavus leading Imperial operations in person. Worse still, rumor had it that the Imperials had successfully developed a bioweapon that turned those infected into rakghouls. Jonah had shuddered as much as I had when he relayed the news when we last talked.

Our squad was makeshift at best; labeled Tempest Squad, but in reality a haphazard attempt to replace the squad that had been wiped out on Balmorra. Captain Bell was an acceptable commanding officer, though prone to emotional outbursts, but the rest were largely unproven or unreliable. O’Neill was fresh out of the academy on Corulag, Vinthra was full of rage at the Imperials because of her upbringing but lacked discipline, and I had deemed it best for my sanity to not think too much about Sergeants G’lira and Vik. The latter, especially. They dragged him back into the service out of desperation, and it shows.

The galaxy seemed so much darker now, especially after the news filtered in about the Gauntlet mission that had gone so sour. True, the squads sent had managed to destroy the super weapon, but thousands of soldiers had died in the task force sent to handle the mission. For days, I hadn’t even been sure that Jonah had made it, since the Republic deemed operational secrecy to be more important than the psychological well-being of spouses.

Most likely, it would be Jonah that would spend sleepless nights wondering how I was doing. I wished I could have reassured him more. I wished the Republic’s prospects on Taris were better. Of course, if wishes were reality, then I would still have my older brother to lead the way. If I died on Taris, I would do so willingly; it was part of fighting for the Republic, for the free peoples of the galaxy, and for my brother’s memory.

War was hell. It was time to make the Imperials realize that.

You win an Internet.

 

Please make room in your garage.

I'm supposed to keep them? I've been eating them this entire time. I thought they were cookies!

Thanks for reading everyone!

There were many things Quinn did not understand about Vette. She was aloof, but serious. She valued Twi’lek artifacts and would pursue them to the ends of the Galaxy. She spoke up for a man she did nothing but irritate to see his reaction. Now she was trying to be his friend or some approximation of a friend. He doubted they would ever be true friends. He didn’t have friends. He had colleagues, superiors, idiots under his command, but never friends. He didn’t have time for them. He hadn’t since he was a child. He realized too late that a friend, a true friend, would help him in his time of need. What he needed now was his blaster back. Or his knife. Either one would get the job done, but he didn’t have access to them. Vette was insistent that he not have either item unless they were off the ship. He knew why and he hated it. He hated knowing his weakness was on display for all to see.

He pushed such maudlin thoughts to the back of his mind as he took inventory in the Cargo Bay. This area of Broonmark’s area and the Talz made it known that he was not welcome here. He knew. He knew he wasn’t welcome on this ship. He knew his presence was tolerated because of the lengths Syla would go through to replace him. He wasn’t a rare officer, but measuring his intelligence and ability against his rank gave him more flexibility than others of similar skill. Those others had moved on, been promoted, had a wonderful career. Careers that he envied. Careers that he desired. He would still be subject to the whims of the Sith in such a career path, there were no careers where one wasn’t, but he wouldn’t be as confined as he is now. He wouldn’t be as watched as he is now. He hated the feeling of their eyes boring into his body, pulling at him, exposing the weak meat beneath the durasteel shell. They felt worse than lightsabers at times. He hated it.

Even with his hate and his thoughts of completing what Syla started, he did his job. He took inventory of everything in the cargo hold, including the carefully unmarked and unaddressed package in the far corner conveniently hidden behind tall stacks of boxes. No one would see him there if they looked in and it was unlikely they would look for him until after. He set his inventory report to send in one hour. That would give him enough time to assemble what was in the package and prepare himself for what was to be done.

His report sent exactly one hour later.

Vette found it strange it took Quinn such a long time to run an inventory of the cargo in the hold. Not much had changed. There was something delivered about a week ago, but otherwise – her thoughts stopped. He wouldn’t have. She made an excuse to Pierce for an early end of the Sabaac game and ran off to the hold to find him. When she entered the hold it was quiet and he was nowhere in sight. She looked around, checking behind every crate to find him. As she made her way to the back of the hold, she grew frantic.

“It shouldn’t be this hard,” she heard Quinn say. She stopped and pressed her back into the tall stack of crates he was hidden behind. “It’s just a blaster.”

She wanted to run around the corner and yell at him or tackle him to stop him from what he was doing, but scaring him could end badly. Very badly. Slowly, she poked her head around the corner. He was kneeling on the floor with a blaster in his hand. She couldn’t stay quiet.

“Hey,” she said quietly. She expected him to jump or shout or at least look at her. He did nothing. “Quinn?” she asked, her voice a little louder this time.

He kept his face carefully controlled as he looked up. “You are the last person I want to see right now.”

“That hurts, Quinn,” she quipped. She wished she was lying. “What are you doing?”

“I was in the process of assembling a blaster.”

“Yeah, I can see the blaster, Quinn.” She sighed softly. “Did you order it?"

“What a foolish question.”

“What a foolish order.”

“You have no boundaries, do you?” he asked. He quickly finished with the blaster and placed it back into its case. “I can order what I like, when I like. I can carry my weapons at all times as I am always on duty. Whatever your end goal is, Vette, I will find my own way to accomplish my tasks. I will not be stifled by the likes of you with your misguided attempts at saving my life and becoming my friend.” He grabbed the case by its handle and stood. “Return my blaster and my knife to me.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he quickly shoved the case into her chest and left the hold. She caught the case before it fell and sighed. That man was a mystery. He wanted to live. He wanted to die. He wanted to be friendly. He wanted to be left alone. He had more mood swings than a pregnant woman. She wanted to help him, but it was clear he didn’t want her help. Maybe he’d listen to Jaesa.

Vette made her way to her bunk, case still clutched to her chest, and sat down. She didn’t know why he gave the case over without so much as a fight. She didn’t think he had given up. No, he still wanted his own blaster and knife back. Was he making a trade? That seemed a bit silly, really, they were his things. She set the case down on the bed and stared at it. If it wasn’t a trade, what was it? Her curiosity was getting the better of her and he had given her the case he had to have known she would open it. Yes. Yes, he knew. He wanted her to open it. Yep. That was it exactly. So she did. She was stunned for a few moments as she stared at the contents. Inside the plain, silver case nestled in the softest silk she had ever seen sat two blasters. Identical in every way and assembled with great care, these twin blasters begged her to hold them, to care for them, to use them. She carefully removed one and gave it a closer look. It was beautiful. Every inch of the blaster was custom made to specific orders. But the grip stood out the most to her. It was orange and textured for a sure hold, but it also had an image etched into the surface. The image was of the little glowing guardian she had given to him when she first took his blaster and vibroknife. It was a small thing, so small he may not have realized the significance of the gesture, but it made her feel inexplicably warm inside. She smiled to herself as she studied the other blaster. They were exact copies in every way. She moved to place the blasters back into their case when she noticed a small flimsy in one of the fittings. She set the blasters next to the case and picked up the flimsy.

“Happy birthday,” it read. It was a simple message, written with great attention to the form of each letter, but its impact was far more than simple.

She knew he would be in the medical bay taking his daily inventory at this time while munching away on a ration bar. She tried to convince him to eat a normal meal during his shift, but he made excuses about time and brushed off her concerns. At least he was eating.

She moved further into her bunk, pulled a wrapped object from her false panel on the side of the bed then made her way to the medical bay. She passed Pierce who was now locked in battle with Broonmark at the HoloChess table. Those two were the strangest pair of friends she had ever seen. She didn’t include herself and Quinn in the “Strangest Friends in the Galaxy” contest due to the fact that the man did not consider her a friend. The wonderful birthday gift notwithstanding, he didn’t like her.

She entered the ‘bay and went straight to Quinn’s side.

“It’s not humanly possible for you to be hungover at this hour,” he said stiffly. He continued his inventory without glancing at her. She wondered how he developed those eyes in the back of his head.

She set the wrapped item on the counter. “Here. And it’s not because you gave me such a thoughtful birthday present or that you knew it was my birthday. It’s more…” she paused then continued her thought quietly. “It’s more that you had the chance in the hold to – to, ya know, end it. And, well, you didn’t, so here’s an extension of my trust.”

“They were mine to begin with.”

“Not my trust.”

He sighed through his nose.

“Don’t get huffy, it’s true. I never trusted you. You just had that look to you and you were too perfect. I mean, come on, Baras is vocal about you being indebted to him then you show up in the hangar of your supposedly own freewill? Too convenient. I tried to tell Syla, but she already had her crush on you.”

“Thank. You. Vette,” he said stiffly, biting at each word as it passed his teeth.

“It’s true. And you already know that I spoke up when Syla was slowly killing you because of the effect it would have had on her. I didn’t really care if you lived or died.”

“Vette,” he ground out between clenched teeth, “I am taking inventory.”

“Yeah, I know. Look. I know we didn’t get along in the past and, until recently, I didn’t really care about you outside of trying to piss you of all the time, but, ya know, after everything happened and it turned out you are, in fact, human and have fears and dreams and such, I, uh – what I’m trying to say is – this is hard.” She turned toward him, but kept her gaze pointed toward the floor. “Thank you for – for the blasters. They’re a really thoughtful gift and it surprised me that you could be so… thoughtful.”

He set his datapad on the counter and turned to face her. “Vette, you have interrupted my inventory of the medical bay supplies. You have insulted me repeatedly in a short period of time. You have questioned my humanity and now I am questioning my sanity. You have said your thank yous. You can leave now.”

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to do it, but it was too late. She lunged at him, hugged him for a few stunned moments then ran from the medical bay. She kept running until she found the safety of her bunk. She dove into her bunk as if it were the greatest cover in the world then pulled the shutter closed. What was she doing? Hugging Quinn? Had she gone mad? Yes. She had to have gone mad. Or, or better yet, she had been rendered temporarily insane by receiving a gift from someone she was sure didn’t give a damn whether she lived or died. But, then, that wasn’t exactly true. He did give a damn. He gave a damn so much he lent her his body to keep her warm. She shuddered. That sounded strange. That sounded wrong. That sounded like – she sighed in frustration and tugged at the tips of her lekku. It was a bad habit she turned to when she was upset or nervous, but it was calming.

Damn. What was she going to do? How was she going to explain to Quinn that she didn’t meant to hug him? Why would she hear shouting in the Galley? Shouting. Damn! She drew back the shutter, grabbed her new blasters, and ran into the Galley. Pierce was hovering over Quinn, who was on the floor holding his jaw.

“What’d you say to her, Quinn? Eh!?” Pierce asked, half shouting.

She stopped in her tracks. Nothing. He had said nothing. It was her. She had ran away because she had hugged him. And now Quinn was being punished for it.

“Hey!” she shouted. Pierce turned his head toward her. “I’m not some damsel in distress in need of rescuing, Pierce! Next time, try asking me what happened instead of flying off the handle and cold cocking innocent people.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Pierce rumbled.

“Then how did you mean it?” she asked as she moved to Quinn’s side. Pierce took a step back and allowed her to fuss over Quinn. He let her. “It doesn’t look too bad.”

Quinn stayed quiet, choosing to keep his eyes focused on the floor. She had come to his side again to protect him. Was this what it was like having a friend? He saw Vette stand out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t want to look at her. He was still reeling from being hugged. The punch didn’t bother him, people punched him in the face with far more regularity than he would prefer to admit to, but the hug was so far removed from what he was used to he was sure his head would be spinning for days.

“We’re not going out for drinks tonight, Pierce,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Eh? It’s your birthday, we always go out for drinks on your birthday,” Pierce protested.

“Not this year, Pierce.” She turned her attention to the still sitting Quinn. “What’d’ya Quinny Quinn Quinn? I need a drinking buddy and you look like you need a drink.”

Pierce scoffed. There was no way he would agree to it. What sort of game was she playing? He wouldn’t be jealous of her offer to Quinn, their relationship wasn’t like that. It didn’t matter, Quinn would say no and Pierce would end up going with her anyway.

“Yes,” Quinn said with surprising firmness. He pulled himself up and looked Pierce in the eye. “I will accompany you on one condition.”

Vette blinked. “What?”

“No Hutt Tequila.”

Vette laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s a deal. I’ll let Syla know plans have changed.” She steered him back to the medical bay by his shoulder. “You finish up that inventory.”

Once Quinn was back in the medical bay, Vette pressed an adhesive cold pack to his cheek then left him to his work. He didn’t mind her leaving him to his work, but her actions confused him. Coming to his defense without being asked, tending to his injured jaw, letting him work in silence. He was almost positive that this was friendship. He wasn’t sure if he considered her a friend, but she obviously considered him one. It was strange. What she said earlier was true. They never got along before and her motive for talking Syla into sparing him was purely selfish: she didn’t want her friend to suffer. And he wasn’t the friend. He didn’t mind then. He was far too out of it to know what was happening to him, but his return to the ship signaled significant changes in his life including his budding friendship with Vette. There was something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It didn’t matter now. He had a friend. That thought amused and terrified him.

Inside the plain, silver case nestled in the softest silk she had ever seen sat two blasters. Identical in every way and assembled with great care, these twin blasters begged her to hold them, to care for them, to use them.

No, Vette! Don't do it!

She carefully removed one and gave it a closer look. It was beautiful. Every inch of the blaster was custom made to specific orders. But the grip stood out the most to her. It was orange and textured for a sure hold, but it also had an image etched into the surface.

Stop now! I beg you!

The image was of the little glowing guardian she had given to him when she first took his blaster and vibroknife.

It's a trap!

It was a small thing, so small he may not have realized the significance of the gesture, but it made her feel inexplicably warm inside. She smiled to herself as she studied the other blaster. They were exact copies in every way. She moved to place the blasters back into their case when she noticed a small flimsy in one of the fittings. She set the blasters next to the case and picked up the flimsy.

 

“Happy birthday,” it read. It was a simple message, written with great attention to the form of each letter, but its impact was far more than simple.

NOOOOOOOOO!</Young_Vader>

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to do it, but it was too late. She lunged at him,

Please be strangling him, PLEAS!

hugged him for a few stunned moments then ran from the medical bay.

Oh God, next thing you know they'll be going out for drinks...

She turned her attention to the still sitting Quinn. “What’d’ya Quinny Quinn Quinn? I need a drinking buddy and you look like you need a drink.”

Dear God, make the hurting stop! At least Quinn will say 'no'...of course he will. And then the universe will be--

“Yes,” Quinn said with surprising firmness. He pulled himself up and looked Pierce in the eye. “I will accompany you on one condition.”

 

Vette blinked. “What?”

 

“No Hutt Tequila.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! *dies*

In a rough chronological order.

I Love this Bar,

Health,

Worlds Colliding,

Confessions,

todays post, Behind the Scenes,

and Nightmares and Dreams.

Alaurin, you are the absolute best for telling me how to do links.

“Hey, thought you might want to see these.” Vette slipped a datapad into her lap. “Seems your new, ahh, friend has been rather chatty lately.” Vette grinned as she rested her arms against the back of Kit's chair.

“Hmm?” Kit'ar pulled her gaze off the navicomputer and glanced back at the Twi'lek. Vette gestured at Kit's lap, her lekku twitching. Picking up the datapad Kit started skimming, eyes rapidly moving as she read. Biting her bottom lip the Sith glanced back at the Twi'lek. “How old are these?”

Vette glanced at the Captain working against the far wall of the bridge and lowered her voice as she bent closer. “About four days old, took me a bit to decode them.”

“Really... four days,” she glanced back up at the navicomputer.

Behind her Vette stifled something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, “A quick run down the hyperlane we will be there in ten hours.”

“We would beat him by a day.”

“Yeap,” the Twi'lek grinned, “lemme guess you gonna help him?”

Kit looked behind her, eyebrow arched, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Un huh right,” Vette leaned over quickly pulling up the Star Charts for the Outer Rim, deft fingers keyed in the hyperspace coordinates. The Twi'lek smirked as she punched the counsel and the stars outside the expansive transparisteel window stretched and lengthened as the ship smoothly jumped to light speed. “I'll go tell everyone to pack their warm undies.” Vette grinned as she left the bridge. “Oh,” she called back over her shoulder, “I'll send a message ahead to Colonel Amazing-Voice, let him know we are coming.”

Kit smiled to herself, Colonel Amazing-Voice, she did admit Yudrass' voice was the most warming distraction on that frozen miserable rock, her smile widened as she remembered just how distracting he had proven to be and the incredulous look on Vette's face when she informed her how warming that voice was the next morning. Kit shifted in the chair sighing as her right hand moved to caress the golden chain that lay across her throat, looping the woven links around her thumb. Unconsciously she bit the dark plum nail of her index finger as she continued to scroll through the purloined communique. As much as she had enjoyed the Chiss' company, his voice was definitely not the one she wanted to hear.

Triumphant warbling rang through the ship, followed by a deep rumbling laugh and a resounding smack. Vette must have told the crew their destination. Standing she slipped her datapad into her robes pocket, now to go intercept that message to the Colonel to insure it was a formal request for assistance and not a invitation for a night of pazaak. She had learned that lesson the hard way a couple years ago.

It had proved to be exceedingly simple to get what she required. Dorn base was in spectacular shape, faces new and old, including several squads of Chiss soldiers, turned to face and salute her as she and Jaesa walked alongside Colonel Yudrass. The atmosphere while not exactly excited was vastly improved, she learned that the Colonel had overhauled operations and moral was at an all time high. When they arrived at the massive lift, the Colonel again offered her his services. As she and her apprentice stepped onto the lift, she gave him a warm smile and then they were moving, as the lift began its ascent, ushering them to the frigid surface and their awaiting speeders.

Now they knelt along the edge of a large icy glacier, the wind howling, nipping and biting at them as it roared in their ears, watching the small solitary figure advance on the nearly obscured durasteel door. It had taken the better part of the previous evening to determine the path he would most likely take and majority of the morning to clear it of the moving indigenous obstacles.

As he approached closer, Kit'ar knelt saber in hand intently watching. Beside her Jaesa dropped to her knees, tightly wrapping her robes around her, pulling her hood tight over her head as she closed her eyes. “Master,” she spoke the wind pulling at her words.

“Yes Jaesa?”

“Do you think our distraction will work?”

“I do, I doubt they will ever realize we were the ones who disabled the geo-thermal plant, especially since we 'discovered' it and brought it to their attention and then offered to set up a perimeter guard while they dispatched a crew of guards and soldiers to repair it.”

Slowly, the figure advanced, at this distance his size, species, even his political association unknown, his armor an off white blurr barely distinguishable from the swirling surrounding snow. It was him, the gluttonous all-consuming elements of this frigid planet could not hide that fact. His Force signature was bright, glowing with an almost tangible warmth, refusing to be hidden. She smiled as she reached out through the Force confirming what she already knew it was Aric. She stopped her self short of actually touching him through the Force, to do such a thing would be foolish and a dead give away. She could feel his anxiety and his determination, she was not going to do anything that might derail his resolve, plus she was extremely curious to see what was going to happen.

Beside her Jaesa murmured, “Do you wish me to begin?”

“Yes.” Kit slowly shifted closer to her kneeling apprentice.

“He is very determined to see this through, extremely angry. Frustrated... this has been an uphill battle. He is thinking of a man named Jonas, Jonas …. Jonas Balker, Human black hair. Aric believes he will be indebted to Jonas. This is to easy, it might be a trap...” She heard her apprentice laugh. “Apparently he knows you better than I thought, Aric is also expecting you to magically appear behind a snowbank.”

Kit frowned but remained quiet and waited, not wanting to disturb her. She watched as he slunk the last few meters to the massive door and quietly sliced it, slipping inside. Keeping her eyes locked on the door she waited for Jaesa to continue.

“It's to easy, where are all the Imps? It has to be a trap or the ancestors are smiling, making something easy for once.” She could hear Jaesa's smile as she talked. “Oh!” Her apprentice stiffened. Kit'ar rose to her feet, standing over her apprentice. “Master, such rage. It's overwhelming.”

Kit closed her eyes reaching out, focusing, momentarily leaving the two of them defenseless while she investigated. She reached out following his glowing trail through the Force, as she neared she felt such a massive outpouring of unbridled fury. She reached out caressing it, as a low growl escaped her throat. Letting the uncontrolled and untapped emotion roll around her, through her, she pulled it into her center, a feral smile on her lips as she felt the surge in the Force as dark side surrounded her wrapping her in its seductive smoky haze.

Incredible, and if she felt this much anger at this distance, it would be staggering to be in that room. The thought jerked her out of her trance. She was hundreds of meters away; Jaesa was inside his head. Her eyes flew open to look down at her kneeling apprentice, Jaesa was shaking, the dark chocolate of her eyes melting into a smoldering orange. “You control your emotions, they do not control you.” Kit'ar knelt next to her, ducking her head to stare into her eyes. “Find your center, reestablish control. Use it to strengthen your connection, if you do not wish to use it, dismiss it. You are the one in control, the Force will obey your bidding.”

Jaesa nodded, “Yes Master,” her voice shook as she closed her eyes and bowed her head.

Kit'ar waited, staring at the door, resuming her protective stance over her kneeling apprentice. When she spoke again Jaesa's voice held a slight waver. “He knows this man. He has been the one blocking his efforts.”

Kit'ar reached over laying her hand on Jaesa's shoulder. She trembled slightly under her touch. The Darth gently squeezed, “You do not have to continue, we can enter the camp, physically oversee this little excursion.”

Jaesa shook her head, “No.” Her apprentice dropped her head, chin touching her chest. The seconds slipped by, when Jaesa spoke her voice steady. “His name is Zane.”

“Zane,” Kit'ar murmured, filing the name away to research at a later point. “I would like you to keep your focus on Aric.”

“He is furious, this was intentional. Aric is going to kill him, Zane has caused the death of his friends.”

Kit'ar again closed her eyes reaching out through the Force. The Cathar was surrounded in a swirling maelstrom of rage, frustration and disbelief. “Who is this Zane?”

“SIS. Zane is angry with Aric for meddling.”

“He is unarmed?”

“He is. The blaster is drawn.”

Kit'ar frowned; things were about to explode. She reached out those last few meters and gently touched him, simultaneously projecting a feeling of calm. She felt him jump as she touched his neck. Next to her Jaesa shifted. “Master what are you doing?”

She ignored her apprentice. There was a lull in the emotional storm; again she reached out focusing all of her effort on touching his neck. Gently she caressed his fur; he hesitated, his rage-driven resolve faltering. Beneath her Force touch the muscles of his neck flexed as he spoke, unknown words lost to the space between them. The storm's remnants drifted away, his Force signature calmed, he was still furious but it was controllable not all-consuming.

“He, he has changed his mind. Aric has holstered the blaster.” Jaesa's voice was surprised.

Kit'ar caressed his neck one last time before she opened her eyes, jarringly returning her to the frigid overlook. Blinking she realized she was leaning against Jaesa, when had that happened? Her apprentice looked up, her brown eyes questioning.

“To kill an unarmed victim while in the grips of rage, even I have not done that. He has enough ghosts, he did not need that shutta's blood on his hands.” She straightened, holding her hand out to her apprentice. Jaesa grasped her outstretched hand, pulling herself free from the snow that had accumulated around her. Her apprentice studied her a moment longer before adjusting her white robes, with a quiet nod she turned and headed down the slope to their hidden speeders.

Kit'ar turned her attention to the durasteel door. Three figures slipped out into the elements, one clad in white armor, the others in grey Imperial cold weather gear. They paused at the camp's entrance, Aric's helmet clad visage slowly scanning the perimeter. He passed right over Kit's location as he searched, her grey and white robes rendering her nearly invisible; the hope he radiated was so painfully tangible. Shaking his head he moved away from the camp, his newly liberated friends following.

Unmoving she watched their slow progression through the whipping snow. Roughly three klicks away they stopped, secure in the shelter of a two-sided ice formation. Aric turned back towards the camp again scanning the horizon as he searched, still hopeful. Shaking his head he turned back to the others and pulled out his comm.

She watched as the grey Republic shuttle touched down. Quickly the men ran on board, the shuttle lifting off before the landing ramp had even closed. When they were no longer a dot on the horizon she moved her hand to her ear queuing up her comlink. “Vette, you can turn the power back on.”

A giggle echoed through her ear, “Sure thing. It will be magically restored in a moment. Oh, take your time heading back, Pierce and Broonie are off blowing something to tiny bits and we all know how much Captain Stuffy-Pants looooves the cold.”

Kit'ar smiled, “The boys can keep playing in the snow, I have had my fill of it, we will be returning to Dorn.”

“Righty-o, pazaak game tonight!” the Twi'lek chirped before she cut the connection.

The Sith sighed as she looked one last time at the shuttles last visible location before she turned to join Jaesa at the speeders. Pulling her goggles on she swung her leg over the activated speeder, nodding to her apprentice she turned and started the long drive back to the base. Kit'ar frowned, she had been looking forward to hearing his voice, but the Force had other ideas, she had not been brought here to talk to him, just to help.

I'm glad Kit stopped Jorgan from killing Zane. I've played through the Trooper story-line twice and have never allowed him to kill Zane. I think killing an unarmed man in a fit of rage would leave a permanent scar on one's soul and I couldn't do that to Jorgan.....even if Zane deserved it.

The Sith had left. They were alone. He and the hunter and Barrows. Zale Barrows, how long he had been dreaming of meeting him again. It felt good to see him on his knees. What was to come would feel even better. He had it all worked out. He had been thinking about this since Barrows had dumped him on this rock.

“Time to say goodbye, Barrows. I’ll make your farewell a moment to remember. Although I doubt you’ll enjoy it as much as I will.” A smile spread across his face as he cracked his knuckles. It didn’t reach his eyes.

Barrows looked at the hunter. “Aren’t you going to do something?” he pleaded. “You came here for me; what about my bounty?”

“Never said I had to take you alive.” she answered, her voice even, slightly distorted through her helmet. Her stance didn’t betray any emotions.

“No, please, no! No!” Barrows pleaded more desperately as he closed in on him. Barrows seemed to be close to tears. Sorry, pathetic scum.

He grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to his feet. “Relax, Barrows! I promise I’ll find a spot for your thorn on my handsome face.” When he grinned the tattooed vines on his face seemed to move. “Maybe next to Skadge’s. Wouldn’t that be nice, Zaley-boy? Reunited in death?” He laughed. Skadge would have liked the joke.

After a while Barrows screams turned to whimpers. He was careful not to let him pass out. He took his time, enjoyed every second while the hunter stood silently by and watched. But even the best party had to end.

He found a relatively clean spot on Barrows shirt to wipe his hands. He stepped over to the hunter. It was hard to tell with the armor and helmet, but he guessed she hadn’t flinched once through the show.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” he said nonchalantly. “I take my anatomy studies very seriously. The corpse is all yours.”

She murmured something under her breath as she collected Barrows’ remains. He had seen men puking on lesser occasion. He leaned against a wall and watched her. He wouldn’t mind seeing how her body looked beneath all that armor, but he guessed it would be a very bad idea to explore the matter without a proper invitation. He had seen her fight and he had to admit that he had been impressed.

He considered his options. With Barrows gone life on Belsavis had lost its purpose. He had a small part of the prison under his control, but it would be a hard fight to keep it and an even harder one to expand it. No, it was time for a change of scenery.

“You ain’t so bad hunter.” he said, when she finally was done. “I wasn’t sure you’d keep your word.”

She took a step closer, her hand hovering near her blaster. “If you want to die, you need only ask, no need to insult me first.”

He backed off a step and raised his hands. “Relax, hunter! I guess I just ain’t used to being around honest people anymore.” Touchy, he had to be careful. He wished she’d take off that damned helmet of hers. Guessing the mood of a tin can wasn’t one of his prominent skills.

“From what I heard about you, you wouldn’t know honest if it bit you in your *ss.”

“No, you’re not one to fall for rumors. Take me with you and I’ll prove them wrong.”

She laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

He only gazed into the visor of her helmet. Not that it was transparent. Hell, he didn’t even know what she looked like. Apparently she had to be human or near human. Because of the form of her helmet he could rule out a few species. Not that he’d have had any problems with a Twi’lek. It didn’t matter. He would join a Hutt, if it got him off this planet.

“You’re serious.” She shook her head. “No way! Don’t get me wrong, but I like it when I am still alive when I wake up.”

He would have been disappointed if it had been so easy. “See, that’s one of the reasons why I’d like to join you. There aren’t many people I’d rather not face while they’re awake.”

She actually chuckled. “Now, that’s very reassuring!” She shifted her weight to one foot, crossed her arms and tilted her head. “So, now that I know, why you want to join me, tell me, why I’d want you to join me!”

“Why don’t you do me a favor and take off your helmet, so we can talk?”

“We are already talking. I can hear you perfectly well. Consider it a favor that I am still listening.”

He sighed and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Ok, you’re right. Regardless of the fact that I really don’t have any intentions to harm you, you’d be a fool to believe me. There’s no way I’d be able to change that, being who I am.” He could see her nodding her consent.

“So I’ll tell you why you should take the risk.” he continued. “You’ve seen me fight, and we fought together. I don’t think that I am wrong, when I say that our styles complement each other almost perfectly.” Another nod. “This chick your running around with? She may know how to handle her kolto, but what if she’s running out of it or you receive a serious wound? I wasn’t joking when I said, that I take my anatomy studies seriously. As long as your head’s still attached I’ll probably get you to the next kolto tank alive. Also works the other way around. Name a species and I’ll tell you its strengths and its weaknesses. Get me some proper equipment and I might even be able to beat you while you’re awake.”

“Are you done?”

Kark, what could he tell her, to make her change her mind? “Give it a try. If it doesn’t work, you bounce me at the next spaceport.”

She started to turn.

“Please?” Now that sounded really desperate. Maybe he should practice using the word.

She pointed at Barrows’ remains. “You’ll be carrying our friend!”

He hurried to comply with her command. Best not to make her regret her decision before he was even aboard her ship.

After a few steps towards the exit she stopped and turned back in his direction. “And Thorns?”

He looked at her expectantly.

“I’ll be keeping you on a short leash.”

A wolfish grin appeared on his face. “If you got high-heeled boots and a whip to go with it, that might even be fun.”

She turned towards the exit without an answer, but he thought he could hear her rolling her eyes.

When he stepped onto the shuttle ramp to the orbital station, he didn’t look back.

There! I did it! I killed Skadge!

An Imperial was waiting for them at the hunter’s ship’s docking bay at Belsavis’ Imperial Orbital Station.

“You here to take Barrows off my hands?” the hunter approached him.

“I noted your return. I figured it was safe to assume you were successful, given your reputation.” the Imperial droned.

Thorns had to suppress some instincts to keep himself from hitting the puffed up prig. A simple ‘yes’ as an answer would have sufficed. The man obviously liked to hear himself talk with his Imperial accent. There was something Thorns would have to get used to, as the hunter obviously was on friendly terms with the Empire. That was, if he really wanted to stay with her.

“I’ve prepared a report of your success for Darth Tormen. I have your compensation right here.” the Imperial went on.

“I could use a friend in Imperial Intelligence. Keep in touch.” The Hunter said as she confirmed the credit transfer.

She was still wearing her helmet, but the Imperial seemed not to mind. “So long as you’re sure to put in a good word for me, I’ll do that.” he said with a friendly gesture.

Some things worked the same way wherever you went. This Darth Tormen she was working for, seemed to be important.

“Actually there is something you could do for me right now, Lieutenant Horn.”

Thorns wondered how she managed to sound so pleasant despite the helmet.

“You need only ask, hunter.” The Imperial sounded almost eager to please her.

“This young man will need an Imperial ID.” She pointed at Thorns.

How old was she? 40?

The Lieutenant hesitated only shortly. “No problem, I will take the necessary data and scans right now.”

That was good. Traveling through Imperial space without an ID was supposed to be very difficult. As the Lieutenant scanned him he seemed less eager. He turned a shade paler when he realized that the stains on Thorns’ clothes weren’t dirt. His hands were shaking slightly when he committed the data Thorns gave him to his datapad. Thorns grinned insolently at him whenever he dared to look him in the eyes.

“You will have the ID within the hour.” the Imperial said addressing the hunter when he was done.

“Thank you, I’ll mention your reliability, Lieutenant Horn.” the hunter assured him.

“I must return to my duties. Again, a pleasure.” The Imperial nodded and turned to leave.

“Lieutenant Horn?” she held him up.

“Hunter?”

“Make it an ID that expires, if I don’t personally induce its renewal once a week.”

Cunning b*tch! She’d managed to wipe the grin off of Thorns’ face.

The Lieutenant raised a brow questioningly, but nodded after a look at Thorns. “As you wish, hunter!”

After the Imperial had left she motioned for Thorns to follow her. “Thorns Trouble, born and raised on Sapella—Sapella?” Her voice did rise a bit here. “Age 25. Poodoo! The only thing I’ll believe is your last name. If ever I met somebody who meant trouble it’s you!”

“Only friend I ever had, follows me wherever I go.” He shrugged with the grin back in place.

“See that you keep him in check as long as you’re working for me!” She shook her head. “I can’t think what came over me.” she mumbled still shaking her head.