Ok, one, two…and jump! Sana swore under her breath as her trajectory took her past the top of the crate she’d been aiming for. She landed on her feet and glared at the pile of crates, studying the angles again. A small hop got her up on a box, she rubbed her hands together and…blast it! Couldn't even stay on her feet that time. She got to her feet slowly, dusting off the seat of her pants and sighed.

“Sir?”

“Elara!” Sana holstered the sidearm that had automatically come to her hand, “You scared the crap out of me.”

“Sorry, sir.” Elara looked quizzically at the pile of crates, “What are you doing?”

Sana grimaced. “Practicing.”

“Practicing what?”

Sana's shoulders slumped, “Promise you won’t tell Jorgan?”

“I don’t think…” Elara paused, “Yes, sir.”

“Jumping.”

“Jumping? But sir, you know how to jump.”

“Barely,” Sana said, getting back into position next to the pile, “and I’m tired of Jorgan reaching the top of first and then standing there, like…like…” She growled in frustration. “…he smirks! I swear he smirks, while I have to take five or six extra tries to get it right!”

“Surely Captain Jorgan wouldn’t…”

“Smirks.”

Elara nodded slowly. “I could help you, sir.”

“You?” Sana asked as she took a running start, trying for a bounce off the first box. She slammed into the side of the crate.

Elara took a nimble leap and then soared directly up to the top.

“Motherfu…” growl, grumble, mutter. Sana glared at her medic as she rubbed her aching shoulder. “Figures.”

“It’s all in keeping your momentum,” Elara said humbly.

“Fine, you can help,” Sana said with ill grace, “but if a word of this reaches Jorgan…” The threat hung in the air.

Elara smothered a grin. “Of course, sir. Now, if you start here…”

If you ever run with a Jesana Kaarde on JC, please be kind to her, she really can't jump. Nor can her adopted daughter, her daughter's blood sister, their blood cousin, the random smuggler, or the baby toonlets who haven't even tried to jump yet. Take my word for it. They can't jump.

Malavai Quinn was a stoic man if there ever was one. All business and no fun was his running policy. Unlike Vette, whose policy was all fun and some business as long as she could shoot it in the face. Or Pierce’s, whose policy was: business is explosives and explosives-are-fun-so-I-win. Or even Jaesa, whose policy seemed to be rescuing anything and everything no matter how vicious it was to her. He preferred to call it naïveté, but Jaesa was rather insistent that it was called “compassion” or some other such nonsense. He wasn’t one to change his policies, they were set that way for a reason, because they made sense, but, sometimes, rarely, on occasion, he would bend his own rules. Which was why he found himself in a precarious position under the watchful, and rather smug, eyes of one Jaesa Wilsaam early one morning.

“What’cha doin’?” she asked quietly.

The Captain, scared nearly to death, and not for the first time, jumped in his bunk nearly hitting his head and stared at Jaesa with wide eyes.

“Oh…” he said quietly. “Nothing…”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were –”

“Sssshh!” he shushed harshly.

“That’s not really a hobby I thought you would have,” she teased lightly.

He tossed the evidence of his activities behind him and into the depths his bunk then cursed silently. He’d have to redo that. Damn it.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Jaesa said gently. She stared at him expectantly, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“What’s your price?” he asked stiffly.

She grinned. “I want a hat and matching gloves.”

He grumbled something then nodded. “Fine.”

She giggled behind her hand. “I can’t believe someone like you can knit.”

A light pink blush rose on his cheeks. “I learned from Barnabus…” he muttered.

Jaesa's laughter echoed throughout the ship. Why did he tell people things?

What is this, pick on the Captain day?

That's pretty much everyday for me.

Knitting is awesome!

I really hate you.

Will you make me a hat, too?

Damn it... fine...

You're awfully willing to make things for people.

Shut. Up.

:3

:3

“Oh, my Emperor!” Syla exclaimed. “What in the hell are you doing!?”

“How else do you think I have no body hair?” Pierce asked gruffly.

“That’s… what even… I…”

“I think she’s broken,” Quinn said lightly.

“She’ll be fine,” Pierce said offhandedly. “My turn to rip yours off,” he said with a smirk.

“Try not to rip my skin off this time,” Quinn said stiffly. “It was rather hard to explain that one to Jaesa.”

Pierce chuckled.

I couldn't help myself.

What the fu-

I quite agree.

I always wondered how the men in this Galaxy stayed so smooth.

I never wondered why. I thought they were just genetically engineered that way...

I need an adult.

I'm almost certain this is longer than what I actually wrote...

Time was pretty relative out in space. The lights of the Blue Bukk could be programed to wax and wane as the sun would. Major Poole demanded a regular sleep schedule to keep his people fresh. The hour on the ship matched the hour on Coruscant, it was easier that way,

Still, when her holo sounded and Ipha saw who it was, she knew it to be late and worry gripped her chest. She slipped from the common room and into the crew quarters under Jorgan's eye and turned her back to answer. Her eldest sister Nicci formed and smiled tiredly at her.

“Hi, I'm not interrupting anything?” Nicci asked, craning her neck as though trying to see around her younger sister's holo image.

“Nope. Everything alright? It's pretty late over there,” Ipha said lightly. Her eyes begged for good news.

Nicci smiled again. “Everything is great, except I have two children who refuse to go to bed without a bedtime story. Kav and I have read the them two each and well, it's just not good enough.”

Ipha blinked. “Oh.”

Nicci smiled wider. “Yeah. Please, Ipha? They're begging.”

Ipha looked over her shoulder. Oh man. But, it was family. “Do you have a book ready?”

“Their favorite one right here. Amazing they could agree on anything. I'm going to bring Kav in, he's in Coyle's room.”

The image shifted to her handsome brother-in-law. He sat on the corner of Coyle's bed, leaning his big arm on his son's pillow while his son jumped up and down on the mattress. Kav smiled warmly, reached out and tugged the three year old back down the bed. “Auntie Ee is ready to read, kiddo,” he said as Coyle squirmed. “Under the covers with you.”

Ipha smiled as Coyle pouted but he looked at her with expectation. “You too, Nixxie,” she said to the almost six year old girl with brown curls. The hand-held holo projected both images for her. She keyed the third frequency open. “Alright, what have we got here?”

The holo book fell open and she read the title. “Samus Saves the Galaxy.” Well, kids books had to be pretty direct. Coyle quieted and Nicci got Nixxie under the blankets and sat with her. She always enjoyed these shows.

Ipha sat on the crew cot and cleared her throat. She scanned the first couple of pages briefly, deciding, then began to read. “Once, long long ago, there was a little boy named Samus Ror. And he lived on the desert planet of Tatooine. He helped his father all day long in the moisture fields, collecting water for the settlement. It was a hard life but young Samus was destined for bigger things. For in the darkness of the Imperial Empire, a shadow loomed.” Her voice had changed, taking on an almost posh air as narrator.

She changed every voice as she read the character. She weakened her voice and pitched it higher, in almost wonder for Samus. His father was stern, deep and comforting. The Force-using Nerf was a dumpy voice, slow-witted but lovable. The evil Shadow Darth was a hiss, a cold cackle in the back of her throat.

The kids eyed the pictures Kav and Nicci held for them, listening to their aunt bring the story to life. The Good Jedi Marr had a female giggly voice and Ipha was glad she only showed up in a couple of pages. The Queen of Naboo spoke much like the narrator, calm, lofty but warm.

“Say your right words,” Ipha hissed as the Shadow Darth. Coyle reached over for his dad's hand. “Samus held his grandfather's lightsaber tightly. This was his destiny and no matter how it turned out, he had to save Princess Paradise or the whole of the galaxy would be plunged into darkness.” Ipha paused dramatically and the kids leaned forward anxiously. Ipha raised her head and looked her niece and nephew in the eye. “There is no Death,” she said in Samus' wonder voice. “There is the Force.” As the Shadow Darth she hissed in anger, making Coyle jump.

The battle that followed she narrated and acted out with her hands. When Samus vanquished the Shadow Darth, Coyle raised his arms in victory. Nixxie tried to look bored but she was paying attention closely.

“And thus followed a thousand years of peace in the galaxy,” Ipha read quietly. “The end.”

“Again?” Coyle chirped immediately.

“Maybe tomorrow night,” Kav said as he tucked his son in. “Say good night to your Auntie.”

Coyle yawned. “Night Auntie Ee. Miss you.”

Ipha pressed her lips together. “I miss you guys too. I'll see you soon.” Kav clicked off and Nicci came back alone.

“Thanks. They were pretty wound up. They had an exciting day.”

“Was fun,” Ipha admitted.

“Kav and I are going to spend some quality time,” Nicci smiled when Ipha snorted. “I'll talk to you again soon?”

“Yup. I'll be here.”

Nicci blew her a kiss and flicked off the holo. When Ipha turned, she looked into the eyes Poole's amused crew who had gathered at the crew quarters door to listen to her performance.

Vik opened his mouth and Ipha shot her hand up, pointing at him. “Not a word. They're kids, sheesh. They like theatrics.”

“I thought it was lovely. You brought every character to life, Lieutenant,” Elara said with a smile.

“Yeah thanks,” Ipha said embarrassed. “I can sing too. Why are you all standing there? Do you want a bed time story too?”

“Actually,” Poole said, putting a strong hand on Jorgan's shoulder and looking thoughtful.

“Not happening. Out of the way, Weequay.”

Vik's chuckle followed her out in the common area where C2 was dusting.

“That was nice,” Jorgan said quietly from behind her.

“Yeah well...” Ipha paused and looked down at the table. “Back to our game?”

“Will you narrate it?”

“Sit your cat butt down so I can kick it.”

I was in the mess getting acquainted with a manka sandwich when I heard it. A noise coming from the direction of Jorgan's quarters. A noise that immediately dragged a smile out of me. Not a particularly nice smile, but a smile.

He stepped out with his usual quiet movement, except he was still singing. He made it halfway across the holo room before he noticed me standing in the mess doorway.

He stopped. Quickly looked around as if wondering whether it was too late to hide. Started a preemptive scowl.

I figured I could start the torment from the beginning. "Were you just singing?"

He gave me his best angry-resentful look. "No, sir."

"You were singing. Wow. I mean, if I had a baritone like that I would sing more myself."

"Can we move on, sir? You didn't hear anything."

"Right, right. Moving on. What's the occasion for the not-singing?"

He eyed me warily. "Good news from the girl back home. She's successfully defended her thesis. One new degree in the bag." He smiled a little in spite of himself by the end there.

"That is good news. Tell her congratulations."

"I'll do that."

I grinned. "To celebrate, we should start a band. Or half of a barbershop quartet. The awesome half, whichever half that is."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," growled Jorgan, "and I really wish you'd stop talking about it. Sir."

"Fine, fine. Sorry to bother you." I stuck my hands in my pockets and sauntered back toward my own quarters. Halfway across the room I started whistling, then quietly singing. "My-y heart goes back to Ord Mantell, to the girl I left behin-"

I didn't even know we had a rolling pin until it whizzed over and hit me in the back of the neck. I laughed and kept on walking.

Jaesa Wilsaam noticed quickly that her new master fought with a few rhythms that didn't fit the discipline of the lightsaber forms used by both the Jedi and the Sith. Lucerna used the Juyo form with two lightsabers almost exclusively, but her footwork had a strange quality to it. At first, Jaesa put it out of her mind as an idiosyncrasy between Jedi and Sith training.

After fighting alongside Lucerna for a couple more battles, Jaesa discovered another strange habit. It was hard to tell in the heat of batttle, but the Sith lord was definitely humming. It was a song Jaesa heard on the ship's radio a few times during the long galactic flights.

The songs Lucerna hummed varied from battle to battle. Sometimes it would change at the strangest times, even when the Sith would drive her lightsaber into an enemy's entrails. The songs were from a general selection though, and seemed to be pulled from the library of popular Imperial music of the day.

One day, after Lucerna mowed through a Republic platoon while singing, Jaesa couldn't help herself.

"You're like a Sith radio." She said shyly.

The Sith Lord simply smiled and tapped the cybernetic implant under her left eye.

"I am a Sith radio. You catch on quickly."

Despite the fresh memories of the platoon's deaths, Jaesa couldn't help but start to feel warm inside. It was the first time Lucerna talked about her cybernetics with more detail than shutting the Padawan's questions down.

“What would possess you to actually think this was a good idea?” Scourge’s tone is as hard as stone, his garnet gaze focused on the Miraluka’s back. Leya keeps her lips press tightly together as she maintains her focus on the objective, standing at the opposite wall across from the Pureblood.

Arms outstretched above her, and all her weight pressed on her tiptoes as she tries to keep her reach high enough, Leya heroically ignores her companion in favor of trying to get them out of here.

Her long, slender fingers are usually sure and swift when it comes to rewiring, but they are now currently slick with sludge and Force knows what else from their underworld scavenging.

It’s only making their attempts to move further along the sewer lines that much more difficult.

And Scourge’s tirade is not helping her move any faster. Really.

“We have Imperials on our trail, and you somehow managed to lose your lightsabre,” Scourge continues, shaking his head. His face tendrils twitch in agitation.

With a small huff, Leya gets the last wire in place and a small beep comes from the panel. A moment later, the door leading to the next sewer line opens with a soft swish.

Wiping her hands on her already dirt and slime matted robes, Leya frowns. She turns to regard her companion through her Force Sight, and if she looks a little ruffled, it is more a credit to their situation then.

“I did not lose my lightsabre,” she insists, her voice a little stiff as she tries to reign in her frustration. As much as she appreciates Scourge’s company and values his change of heart from the Empire to the Republic, he still has a long way to go. “It’s just been… temporarily misplaced,” the Jedi Knight finishes.

Scourge snorts.

“Sometimes I wonder why I had a vision of you defeating the Emperor, of all people.” The words leave his mouth before he can stop it, but as he watches the Miraluka, he sees she doesn’t outwardly react to the near spite in his voice.

She merely straightens her robes a bit, as if it isn’t already completely beyond the state of hopeless, and presses on through the doorway with determination in her stride.

“Maybe your vision was wrong,” she says over her shoulder nonchalantly after a moment. “It’s been known to happen.”

Her voice is soft; unreadable. That damn Jedi calm she always manages to retain in even the direst of circumstances seem to serve her well even now, and it makes Scourge want to smash something. It bothers him, more than he likes to admit, whenever she seems to close off and he can’t get a read on her.

Scourge moves to walk next to her, his eyes darting up and down the dark, musky corridor in sign of any other life. Anything to help him take his mind off of his internal debate.

“My vision isn’t wrong.” Scourge starts on the defensive. Though he towers over Leya by almost a full foot, despite her being tall herself, she doesn’t cower under the venom in his voice. She merely hums under her breath, and Scourge is not sure if it is in agreement or disbelief. “And it is not the only vision I have had of you- unless you wish to claim all of them are wrong.”

The last part he says in an effort to back up his first claim. But once the words leave him, he immediately wishes he hadn’t. He has no intentions of relaying his other, more recent visions involving the Miraluka to anyone.

Not until he’s deciphered what they mean, first, that is.

This time, Leya does come to a stop. The corner of her mouth lowers in a half-frown, and though Scourge knows she has no actual eyes pinned on him, he feels the weight of her gaze on him nonetheless.

“More visions?” she asks. “Involving the Emperor?”

Scourge shakes his head, and Leya takes a step closer before she seems to catch herself.

“Scourge, if you have seen anything that will help us defeat the Emperor, now is not the time to be reserved about your visions-” Leya begins, but Scourge hisses at her.

Her words cut short, and the Miraluka pauses, unsure for a moment of Scourge’s reaction. He will not be the one to explain to her now, but the fact she seems only concerned that his visions of her involve the Emperor makes his skin itch and his blood hot.

He isn’t quite sure why, though.

“No,” he answers her shortly. “Some of the visions involve you and the Emperor’s inevitable fall.”

Leya nods slowly, and Scourge can almost see the wheels turning in her head. He knows her next question almost before she even asks it.

“And what of the other visions? What do they involve?”

“You,” Scourge says, and the heat in his voice makes it clear he does not intend to elaborate.

Thankfully, Leya understands and she is not one to push her way into things that are not of an immediate concern.

She simply nods.

“If you say so,” she replies, and the open honesty in her voice brings Scourge up short.

“Wait… you’re not going to try and get me to talk?” the Pureblood asks, curious. Leya shakes her head, and for the first time of that day, since they have found themselves outnumbered and on the run, a small smile finds its way to her lips.

“What would be the point?” she points out. “You’ll just clam up. I trust you to tell me about the visions if they are important enough for me to know.”

Scourge’s tendrils twitch again.

“You… trust me?” He can’t seem to wrap his mind around it.

Leya nods, and for the briefest moment reaches out to squeeze his arm in show of friendship. Even if said friendship is tentative at best for now.

“I do,” she assures him.

Their little moment is shattered only seconds later by a blaster bolt, shooting past Scourge and missing his face by a hair’s breath.

Igniting his crimson sabre, Scourge deflects another bolt as he sees a group of Imperial soldiers gathering at the end of the corridor they had come from.

“Get behind me,” he grits out, deflecting another incoming wave.

“I can handle myself-" Leya starts, but her words end in a half-squeak when Scourge reaches out with his free hand to clamp down on her forearm. Unceremoniously, he pulls her closer to him- she stumbling from the unsuspecting act - and then steps in front of her, all the while not missing the barrage of bolts bearing down on them.

“I’m sure you can handle yourself,” Scourge grits out. “But that was before you lost your lightsabre.”

“I misplaced it!” Leya insists behind him, sounding almost… indignant.

If only for a moment, despite their day being probably the worst they’ve had in quite a while, Scourge finds it within him to crack a small grin.