The bottle had emptied faster then she had hoped. Isla got up on unsteady legs, rummaging for another. How could she have misread the situation so badly, she was never this off, but here she was, alone, and humiliated.

“Cap?” Everything ok?” Corso poked his head into the galley, his voice surprised her and she let out a tiny yelp as she fell hard on her ***. He hurried in to help her back into a chair, she sat back down looking miserable, and she still didn’t have another drink.

“No.” She pouted her answer to Corso.

“Want to talk about it? You know I’m here for you…” His brown eyes were hopeful, his voice soft.

He was a sweet kid, and no matter how many times she re-buffed him, he held onto wild hope that one day she would see the light and fall madly in love with him and settle down. Sweet, stupid kid, but he had a good heart.

“You know how it is, it would be a force damned tragedy if it wasn’t so funny. Just got shot down hard, and I’m an idiot for not seeing the signs.” Her bright violet eyes watched him, wondering if he would catch on to the subtlety.

“Any man fool enough to turn you down, doesn’t deserve you Captain.” He cajoled her; she should have known subtlety was not one of Corso’s strong suits. “You want I should go have a talk with him?”

“I don’t think that’ll work Corso, but thanks for offering. I just should have known better, I’m usually better at reading people.” She felt helpless and miserable and felt an errant tear fall down her dark green skin.

“How can any of this be your fault? Was he blind, Captain? I know you’ve told me no, but I swear I would never make you cry.” He grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her tears, letting his hand caress the tattoo on her chin.

Isla grabbed his hand in hers and leaned forward, “She, wasn’t blind Corso, in fact she sees just fine, nothing to be done about it. Akaavi just isn’t into girls, and I have to deal with that, and get over her.” She could see the confusion as the wheels turned slowly in Corso’s dreaded head, and then finally, recognition dawned.

“Wait! You like girls?” Isla nodded, giving his hand a squeeze, “So…you and me, we’re never….”

“Afraid not kid, although I admire your tenacity.” She wiped the tear from her cheek.

Corso stood up and walked to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a stiff drink, then topped Isla’s off.

“You going to be ok? You know I’m here for you.” She felt bad for bursting his bubble, but maybe now he’d stop with the adoring puppy dog act.

“You know how it is, it would be a force damned tragedy if it wasn’t so funny. Just got shot down hard, and I’m an idiot for not seeing the signs.” He answered with her own words with a sad but wry grin on his face.

Isla laughed, things might have changed between them, but she knew that he would always have her back, and that she would always have a friend in him.

“It's for the best you didn't listen.”

His words were oily and cruel and they were directed at her. The man who owned her was gathering his valuables and stuffing them into bags, ignoring her. His eyes were only for the man in the black robe and red mask. When the man came in, her Master had demanded protection. The man had laughed. She had felt ill just at hearing the sound. Her owner called her Kit because it was disrespectful, in a moment, he would call her nothing.

She was seven years old.

She couldn't see the evil man's eyes but she knew on a level that was primal, a part of herself that knew only how to stay alive, that she should close her eyes and cover her ears. Kit bowed her head, squeezed her watery red eyes shut and clamped shaking hands over her ears. The deaths of her master and the three female slaves were muffled and terrifying. In the silence following, she kept her eyes closed. Her breathing was ragged and her chest burned. He was still in the room with her. She was too scared to look up.

She would die today, at the hands of a man in a black robe and red mask. No one would remember her. She felt his breath on her cheek.

“Look at me.”

His voice was like nothing she'd ever heard before. It scraped along her skin, made her feel raw and exposed. She whimpered. He laughed.

There was an enraged roar across the room. Kit felt the tension ooze of her body and she slid to her side. She didn't know anything anymore. Someone was going to kill her.

She covered her ears, squeezed her eyes shut. For a minute she was alone, then the man and woman came. The woman in Republic armor stood in front of her, shielding her. The man, tall, exotic, like nothing she'd ever seen before was kneeling beside the door. He had a blaster in his hand and his eyes rested on her. He looked strong and kind, not like the killing man.

“Yuun just checked in,” the woman said. “He's having trouble slicing into the ship's weapons grid. I think he's going to need me.”

“I want you to go straight out and back to the Bukk,” the man said.

“That's my husband talking. I don't take orders from my husband.”

“Damn it, Ipha.”

“Suck it up, my love.”

“Seriously? You can call me pet names on an op but I’m not allo- You know? Okay. I'll take the pet names from you. I'll be right behind you. Don't look back, don't stop, take her and run.”

“Sir,” the woman said.

“Don't sir me. Not now. You started with the pet names.” He stood and went to the woman. “I love you.”

“We'll be fine, Aric.”

“You have to move now.”

“I love you too.”

“Go!”

The woman grabbed her hand and pulled her from the room. There were more bodies in the hall. They were charred and smoking, twisted in pain even in death. The woman held her tight to her side, tucking her face into her armor.

She risked raising her eyes up. The woman had lovely black hair that was pulled back in a tail. Her expression was fierce but her green eyes, when they glanced down at her, were kind. She felt safe even though they were being shot at. Even though they were being driven back toward the ship's bridge. He was on the bridge. He had killed everyone in the room with her, then ran away when the exotic man and the woman had shown up.

The soldiers firing on them suddenly fell and the woman grabbed her hand again. She saw the man, a gun that was bigger than her in his hands, watching them as they escaped. Three more people converged on his back and together they went for the bridge.

“Wait!” she said, tugging at the woman's grasp. “Wait, he'll kill them! Don't let them go!”

The woman stopped, glanced behind. “They are well trained soldiers. We have to trust them to do their jobs.”

“He killed everyone. My Master, the other slaves. What if he can't be stopped?”

The woman looked both ways down the hall then got down on her knee to look her in the eye. “How did he kill everyone?” she asked.

“With lightning from his hands. I was hiding, he didn't see me at first. Then you came with the man and he ran away.”

The woman cursed then looked guilty. She put a hand to her ear. “Major! There's a Sith on board. He killed Bricade and the slaves that were traveling with him. He's probably got the 'cron now. Somebody didn't do enough research into this.”

She watched the woman listen for a moment, her eyes back down the hall where they had come from.

“You could wait for Master Tyne...” she paused and rolled her eyes. “I know you've killed Sith before. I've been there, remember? No, no we're still on board. Fine. If you get killed I'm getting a divorce.” She sighed and looked at the girl. “Never marry a military man in your unit,” she said with a wink. “Especially when he's your superior.” She got to her feet and lead the way back down the hall, going away from the bridge.

They reached a juncture and the woman pulled her into the lift. She went wherever the woman did, the woman he had called Ipha. She'd called him Aric, the shock was wearing off. Ipha pulled her into a room with lots of computers, lots of lights, lots of dead bodies.

“Yuun?”

There was a grating sound that woman headed for immediately. The girl at her side peered up at the slim alien that was working over a console station. It glanced over its shoulder at her, vocalized something.

“Major Jorgan and I found her upstairs in the Minister's quarters. The Sith killed them all but her.” Ipha glanced down. “This is Yuun, he's with me.” She gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and looked back up at the alien. “What do you need?”

She stood near Ipha's leg though she had to be crowding her. There were no signs or sounds of fighting down here, but she was still scared. She stared down the way they had come, entirely missing Ipha using her cybernetic parts to slice in to the ship's systems. After a moment, main power shut down and the interior of the ship was lit with red emergency lights.

“Colonel Poole,” Ipha said into her holo communicator. “Ship's power, nav and weapons are out. Bricade is dead.”

“Copy that, Captain Jorgan. Looks like you picked up a problem.”

“Not a problem, sir. A survivor. The Major is dealing with a Sith.”

“I heard. I'm going to have to knock some SIS heads together when this is over. There was no word of a murdering Sith Lord on board.”

“This is Major Jorgan,” the man's voice broke through the call and she saw Ipha's shoulders relax slightly. “The bridge is secure. We have the crew and the datacron.”

“Rendezvousing back at Fleet. Poole out.”

She was taken off the Imperial ship to be checked out on a Republic one. Ipha examined her while Aric stood in the door.

“I don't know much about Chiss physiology,” Ipha said quietly. “From what I understand, they are pretty close to human, but sped up.”

“Sped up? Is that a medical term?” Aric asked. Ipha glared at him over the girl's head. “She said anything yet?”

“Not since we were on the ship. But it's okay,” Ipha smiled at her. “She'll talk to us when she's got something to say.”

“How about a name?” Aric asked.

Even though his tone was gentle, Ipha shook her head. “Aric,” she said with warning.

Aric came over and leaned against her bed and she rolled to her side and sat up. “I hear I should be thanking you for the warning that there was a Sith Lord on board the Chamberlain. That was good intel to have and you probably saved the lives of me and half my team.”

She looked at him shyly. She liked his green and brown eyes and his voice was a pleasant rumble in her ears. His teeth were pointy and looked sharp, but if Ipha was his wife he probably didn't use them to hurt anyone.

“Why don't we do this official like?” Aric said. “I'm Major Aric Jorgan, Republic Special Forces. This is Captain Ipha Jorgan. We're Havoc Squad.”

Ipha had stayed quiet with a hand resting on her shoulder. She looked down at the hands twisting in her lap. “Master Bricade called me Kit. I... I hated it.” She began to talk, slowly.

“How is she?”

“Sleeping. Finally.” Ipha put a hand to the back of her neck and rubbed the sore muscles. Aric came around behind her, put his hands on her shoulders and took over the job himself. She sighed in gratitude.

In the hours since Kit had come aboard the Bukk, Ipha had felt herself growing attached to the frightened Chiss girl. Her lot in life had been horribly unfair. Ipha wanted to make things better. She hoped her husband would understand.

She waited a few moments as Aric rubbed her shoulders, putting the words together in her mind. Making sure she built a strong enough case. This had been coming already. She just wanted him to be happy.

“She wants a new name,” Ipha said.

“Okay,” Aric said carefully. “You sound like you have an idea.”

“I want to adopt her.” She said it quietly. Aric stopped his work on her shoulders and reached for her chin. He turned her head and she faced him.

“Kids and special forces don't really go well together,” Aric said. “Have you thought this through?”

“There's something else. I... I have to put in a request for transfer.”

“What?” She could tell the information wasn't processing. “You want to leave Havoc?”

She put her hands on his face and kissed him hard. She rested her forehead against his before pulling back and looking into his eyes. “I'm pregnant Aric.” She smiled as she watched the information sink in.

His hands went immediately to her belly. “You're...”

She nodded.

“How long have you known?”

“Elara confirmed it yesterday. I'm six weeks. And don't. Don't,” she said as Aric realized she had gone on the op while pregnant and he had had no idea. “I'm not fragile, I'm still Havoc. You needed me.”

He walked away and sat down. The he stood back up, walked over to her and took her hand. He pulled her over the couch and yanked her into her lap. She cuddled into him and let him have some quiet.

“This is good,” he said after a long moment. “I'm going to be a dad.”

“You're going to be a great dad. And it can start now, because I want to adopt Kit.”

Aric wrapped his arms around her tighter. “She doesn't want to be called Kit.”

Ipha smiled. “She likes the name Thessily.”

“You went through names with her didn't you?”

She nuzzled his cheek with her nose. “I made some suggestions.”

Aric rubbed her stomach absently and she smiled blissfully. “We're going to need to talk to Garza.”

“I love you.”

He looked at her and grinned.

Koa glanced around to make sure no one was watching. A small slip of a girl stood next to him grinning.

“Relax,” Astrid poked him playfully. “No one will care if we get caught, it’s not like it’s that illegal.”

He sighed and fought the urge to snap at the girl. She was only a year younger than he was, but she looked like a child. A short, skinny, human with a mop of curly black hair. His mother had caught her trying to slice into the security cameras in their suite on Nar Shaddaa when he was nine it was the only time Astrid had ever been caught in the three years she had been helping a gang rob high end flats. Typical of his bleeding heart mother, she felt sorry for the little street urchin and set her up with a more comfortable living situation. As a result, Astrid worshipped his mother.

“Not that illegal, is still illegal.” He reminded her.

Astrid ran away from the first family his mother sent her to live with and the next three, his mother kept finding her, setting her up and letting her go. Finally, when it was apparent she would always run away she gave Astrid a small apartment to live in by herself. At ten years old, that suited her perfectly.

“But you’re Sith.” She grinned while deftly tapping several conduits in the circuit board. “Sith do whatever they want, especially you.”

Koa had never learned slicing, his mother tried to teach him but he considered it a waste of time. He regretted that decision, he would rather not have anyone know what he was trying to do. “There.” She announced, “The Imperial, Republic, and Hutt news archives are at your disposal, my lord.” She bowed mockingly.

He frowned at her and took his place at the console. She jumped up and down behind him trying to see over his shoulder, it was futile she was barely five feet tall. He elbowed her away.

“Go wait outside and make sure no one’s coming.” He ordered.

She grinned and bowed again pretending to shake as she backed away holding up her hands. She reminded him of his mother. He scowled and made a few searches and cross references downloading everything he could. When he was finished, he turned off the console.

“Wait here.” He said as he emerged from the room. He hurried to the student archives and downloaded the data he was supposed to be getting for his classwork.

“So why the sudden interest in the Jedi and Hunter Grey?” Astrid asked as she followed him out.

“Were you spying on me?” he asked, clenching his fist. It was not an actual force choke but she would feel the pressure around her neck.

She swiped her hands at the invisible power surrounding her throat. “Quit it! I erased your tracks idiot. Anyone who turned that console on would know it had been sliced and what you searched for. I made it look like a circuit blew and wiped the logs so it looked like a malfunction.”

He let go choosing to stare at her broodingly instead. He did not want to kill her, she had been a childhood friend and she was still useful, but she knew what he was after.

She eyed him shrewdly, he had no idea how much he telegraphed his thoughts on his Sith pureblood face. “If you kill me, I’ll miss my holo-call with your mom tonight and she’ll be worried.”

“You still talk to my mother?” he was not terribly surprised but wondered if it was pure coincidence that they would speak that evening.

“Every night for the past five years.” She said cheerfully, “Part of the deal to let me live on my own.”

He snorted, “Why didn’t she just adopt you?”

“She asked,” she grinned at his stunned expression, “much to your father’s discomfort I imagine, but I’m born to be free.” She twirled around like a dancer. “Besides, you’re an awful friend, you’d be a worse older brother.”

“Don’t tell anyone what you saw.” He warned her catching her hand so she would stop spinning.

“Not even mommy.” She confirmed trying to look serious and failing utterly. They exited the Dromund Kaas data archives, the guards bowed to him as they left and eyed her suspiciously.

“How will you get back to Nar Shaddaa?” he asked. He did not even know how she had gotten to Dromund Kaas in the first place.

“The usual way.” She said mysteriously. “I won’t leave till tomorrow though so if you need anything else holo me.” She skipped off into the street heedless of the suspicious glares and the rain. He stared after her for a moment wondering what it was like to be free.

Koa went back to his rooms, his parents chose to live on an estate just outside Kaas City, but they obtained an apartment for him so that he would have his own space when he visited. He relaxed onto his favorite couch and loaded the data disk.

As expected, the Republic versions of events were different from Imperial. In the Republic version, his father was a defector who was first defeated by a Jedi then begged her help in destroying a threat to all life in the galaxy. He watched footage of the attack on Dromund Kaas. He watched a tiny Jedi take down waves of guards then board a small shuttle that presumably took them to the Dark Temple. He watched as his mother was honored by the Jedi council, and he watched Grand Master Shan make snide comments to his father. He made a face and switched to the next file.

He watched a fight on Tatooine, a Jedi jumped out of a speeding smuggler ship and landed in the middle of a battle, killing a Sith and fighting an army of mercenaries. He watched a figure identified only as Bounty Hunter Grey on Imperial footage strung together from shoulder cameras. It was disconcerting but it was clear in the end the bounty hunter blew herself up and took a few Imperial squads with her.

He watched hours of footage in fast mode, they could not all be lies. His head swam. He heard the stories, the words were the same but now they meant something different. He watched the Imperial versions, watched how they manipulated the words until the story made no sense. He watched as later Republic footage did the same thing, failing to even mention his mother’s role in their annual celebrations of the Emperor’s fall because she had become a Sith. He turned off the holo-projector and closed his eyes.

The Republic and the Empire, both bloated institutions that were more concerned about their image than the truth. For a moment, he was angry with his parents for keeping him in the dark. They should have told him who his mother really was. Then he remembered his mother’s words, You sure are slow to catch on kid.

“Yeah.” He said aloud to himself. He pulled out his com, intending to call his mother, but his fingers called Astrid instead.

“Bro.” She grinned.

He hated when she called him that, to her he was just a kid she knew. She did not care about what he was or who his parents were. He wondered what it would be like if everyone were that way, it gave him an idea. “What exactly is the usual way to get to Nar Shaddaa and can you take me?” She looked surprised for only a second then beamed at him.

“Oh this is going to be fun.” She smiled ominously and ended the call.

Koa guided the ship out of the private hangar. He felt a little guilty for not letting Astrid come with him. She had been the one to slice through security and trick the guard droids into standing down but she was not a fighter and she got on his nerves. He pre-recorded a message for his parents and sent it to them. It was cowardly but he could not face his father right now, and he certainly did not want to face his mother, he had just stolen her ship.

He pondered where he should go first. He had not planned much, he knew he would need to learn the ropes and buy some gear. He had money of his own stashed away where even his parents could not get to it.

“Where are we going?” Astrid materialized next to him. He had not sensed her at all.

“What are you doing here?” He exclaimed angrily pretending he had not jumped three feet in the air. “I told you, you can’t come with me.”

She grinned, “You’re going to be a bounty hunter?”

She had probably watched him record his message. “Yes, I’m going to kill people. So you see it’s safer if I take you back to Nar Shaddaa.” He started to alter the ships course back to the hangar. He would escort her to the door to make sure she got out.

“So when you get to wherever you’re going,” she interrupted him, “What’s your plan? Stand at the spaceport and yell ‘Who wants me to kill somebody?’”

He frowned at her, but stopped trying to steer the ship back to the hangar.

“You know nothing of mercenary work, you have no skills outside fighting, you’ve never been on your own, and you only speak basic.” She crossed her arms looking serious for once. “You will need help from someone. I have underworld contacts, I speak six languages, I know how to repair this ship, and you know I’m a slicer. I can help you.”

“What about fighting?” he asked trying to cover that he had not even thought of those things.

“Do I have to do everything for you?” She grinned. “Come on, bro, this is going to be fun.”

“I’m regretting it already,” he muttered sullenly.

“We can always go home to mom.” She smiled sweetly.

He grumbled a bit longer but realized she was right. He cracked a grin, freedom making him giddy again. “Not a chance.”

“A new course,” she bowed to him and entered the hyperspace coordinates. “Next stop, Hutta.”

Introducing Astrid!!! Whom I will endeavor to make different from Mako, but since I never made it out of Dromund Kaas with my BH I have no idea if I'll succeed since I don't know anything about Mako beyond her Hutta stuff.

Also, this was always the plan for Koa I just never knew how to get him there until now.

Lord Scourge is not amused, really really not amused.

Miriah was down at the hangar, and Corso assumed she was getting the twin's gifts that she'd left there, so he was surprised when heard the preflight engines hum to life. She had almost finished the preflight list when she heard his boots on the ramp. She turned to him with a smile. "Let's go to Ord Mantell, love, I really think we need to do this."

He thought about it and realized she might just be right. Maybe he did need to go back, confront the past. His eyes weren't certain, but he nodded at her and took his seat in the co-pilot's chair. Miriah walked over to him, crouched down and looked in his eyes. "Whatever happens, I will be with you, and I'll always be yours." He smiled at her then, pulling her to him in a hug.

They said little on the trip, and, as usual for Miriah, she had music going, but not her usual "I'm flying and I want to rock" stuff. This was soothing, lyrical instrumentals, meant to relax the listener. Corso almost dozed off, which was very unusual when he was in the right chair. I must be more tired from this than I thought, he mused. He sighed, not wanting to go out to the old farm site but knowing in his heart he had to.

They were remembered on Ord, Miriah smiled to herself. The flight control officer sounded delighted to hear her voice, telling her he hoped she had a pleasant stay on Ord Mantell, offering to set up quarters for her and Corso. She declined, but maybe they'd visit the cantina in the fort later, see old friends. As they left the ship, he took her hand, thinking about the first time he saw her. She'd just landed her freighter in the middle of tracer fire from both sides, and made a perfect landing. He remembered thinking whoever had flown that ship knew what they were doing. He'd just walked in the hangar, telling Skavak about the seps gaining control of the automated defense turrets, when she came down the ramp. He'd been struck speechless by her grace and confidence. She'd stood toe to toe with Skavak, not falling at all for his nonsense flirting. Even after everything went bad, she never lost her control. He'd fallen in love with her within a few hours of knowing her, and it had all started here. He never thought he'd win her heart, and was prepared to follow her forever just to be in the same space she occupied. He smiled to himself, thinking of how clumsily he'd tried to woo her.

They took a speeder off the ship, and he helped onto the back. The butterflies in his stomach settled when she put her arms around his waist and leaned her head on his back, and they took off toward Dreliad Village, noting the new construction and water system being put in place by the Republic. There's been so much progress, Miriah thought, since we fought here. They stopped at the top of a rise, and looking down at the green valley, she knew this must have been part of the Rigg's property. Nature had done its work, and the area appeared lush. Corso dismounted the speeder and locked it, and taking her hand in his, started walking toward the other side of the valley.

"This is the pasture area where I came back to check the gate. I hadn't left it open, but I just couldn't be sure, and to be honest, I was thinking about the girl my parents had arranged for me to be engaged to. We'd been on two dates, chaperoned of course, but we hadn't done anything but hold hands." He shrugged, "that's just the way we did things." She didn't say anything, just let him talk. They approached the opposite side of the valley and he stopped. They stood there for several minutes, then Corso just sat heavily on the ground, pulling her down almost on top of him. "I can't, Mir, I just can't go over there." He sat there with his head in his hands, and she knew he was reliving that awful day. All she could do was hold him.

"Let me just walk a few paces and tell you what I see," she suggested. He said nothing for a minute, then mutely nodded. She walked to the edge of the downslope and put her hand up to shade her eyes. "I see the foundation of the house, wow, I know you told me your dad built it with his own hands, he must have been quite a craftsman. Most of the fireplace is still intact."

"That's where the scar on my face came from. When I rushed down the hill to see if I could get them out, something small exploded in the back and threw me into the brick." He grimaced, "I didn't even realize it until a medic at the outpost tried to clean it up." He stood, turned and started walking back to the speeder. Miriah jogged to catch up, then silently followed him, his grief surrounding him like a cloud. Maybe this wasn't a good idea, she thought, maybe it's just too much. She almost ran into him when he stopped suddenly and sat down in the tall grass. She knelt beside him, put her arm around his shoulders. "I spent hours right here when I was growing up, either watching the rontos or daydreaming about the next blaster I'd save for. Up until that day, it was an ideal childhood. I felt like I'd lost everything that day. I had. I spent the next year and a half with the Peace Brigade trying to do something to make life worthwhile again." He stood and walked slowly around the edge of the valley. She followed, watching him closely. "That's when I came back to Ord, and Vidu took in a half starved scrawny kid and gave him a job and a purpose. It was enough, until I saw you walk down that ramp." He turned to her with a grin and, for the first time since they landed, she felt like she'd done the right thing. He pulled her to him, kissed the top of her head, and just stood there, looking around. "It occurs to me, that it all led me here, to this spot, with you. I miss my parents, but I'd go through all of it again if it meant that I would be with you." He took both her hands in his, "This place, my parents, they were all parts of my life, but you, Miriah my love, you are my life."

She looked into his eyes, "I love you, I always will." It was as if they'd renewed their wedding vows, here in this valley, his parent's remains not far away. It felt right, he thought, and something slid into place deep inside him. He remembered something his dad had told him, just a few days after his birthday. Son, he'd said, trust yourself. When something is right, you'll know it. Thanks, Dad, he thought.

Resignation is an attitude I have never seen for this scene. Very nice.

HAH!! I like her, I really like the contrast against angsty serious Koa (So like his dad). I would love to read about Scourge discovering his son's little misadventure, lol. Great stuff!!

The fiance conversation where he talks about how he just ran after his parents were killed I usually focused on the part where he seems to be flippantly telling me about a fiance that he just abandoned and not the part about how his whole life just ended right there. Very well done, I love those two together.

He was free.

The thought kept racing through Mel'ake's mind as he chatted with a cute little red-haired soldier at the cantina in the Imperial Fleet. He was now Mel'ake Nocturne, former slave and current apprentice to Lord Zash. Of course, he couldn't run around the fleet naked shooting force lighting at anyone who stared, but that was considerably lower on his to-do list than most probably assumed. A natural awkwardness mixed with a long-expanded conscious effort to seem too odd to be worth an enemy's time meant that very few people took Mel'ake seriously. When Lord Zash validated his efforts at becoming Sith, Mel'ake gained a boost of confidence that loaned him the gusto to risk indulging in one of his few (who was he kidding, one of his many,) non-Sithy-Forcey pastimes, chatting to gorgeous ladies.

"Show me again!" The Imperial Trooper woman gushed. Mel'ake grinned and sent the arc of lightning dancing across his fingertips. The girl watched, mesmerized. "So you're really a Sith. The only ones I've met weren't nearly as friendly."

"Let's hope it doesn't come with experience." Mel'ake chuckled before noticing both their glasses were empty. In one of her displays of generosity, Lord Zash gave Mel'ake a good amount of credits for him to enjoy himself while he waited for the next Dromund Kaas shuttle to arrive at the space dock. Granted, his first idea was to buy a slave their freedom, but he had no idea how he would go about doing that. So he went for the next best thing, chatting over drinks with lonely Imperial women who would have only looked at him twice to spit on him back when he was a slave. At least his intentions started altruistic.

"Let me get that for you." Mel'ake offered as he grabbed their glasses and walked towards the droid tending the bar. He was almost there before something- rather some one, caught his eye. There was a curvy human cyborg woman at the top of the stairs leading down to the cantina. She was accompanied by a stiff looking man in Imperial officer's uniform. The thing that caught his eye, rather than the duo themselves, was the fact that the woman was staring right at him. Mel'ake felt a shiver creep down his spine as the woman spoke excitedly to the man, tugging on his starched and pressed sleeve. He found himself wishing he hadn't sent Khem Val to train on the fleet's target dummies until their shuttle was about to board. The Dashade gave him the creeps big time, but he did say he was bound to Mel'ake's command. As Mel'ake walked to the bar, the woman suddenly strode right towards him in a few swift steps.

"Mel'ake Nocturne?" She asked. She was pretty cute herself, with neat brown hair falling just bellow her ears, an amazing set of curves, and piercing hazel eyes that were beautiful, but somewhat unsettling. The only visible implants showed just bellow her eyes. Her face was marred by three scars over her left eye, but it only seemed to add to her countenance as a warrior. She was Sith, if the lightsabers on her belt were any indication, which meant there was approximately a 100:1 chance that she was insane and/or hated slaves. Being a Twi'lek living in the empire, Mel'ake wasn't expecting to stop getting slave comments any time soon. At least he knew now they were incorrect. One thing was certain about this woman though; Mel'ake had no recollection of her. Out of the corner of his eye, Mel'ake saw the cute red-haired soldier survey the situation with a cold expression.

"Er, I'm sorry, do I know you?" Mel'ake asked the Sith. "I mean, that is my name.." he managed before realizing how the situation looked to the soldier girl. Well, smart money said she was leaving the table now, her interest in Mel'ake evaporated.

"Your older brother, Dm'eri Nocturne, saved my life countless times at the Korriban Academy." She spoke matter-of-factly. "He adopted me as his younger sister and told me all about you, Mel'ake. That makes you my little brother, and me your big sister."

Mel'ake felt a lump rise in his throat. This woman had to be telling the truth about his brother Dm'eri. He was discovered to be force sensitive and taken away when Mel'ake was nine years old, leaving the child to fend for himself. He never heard from or about his brother again, but had assumed the worst, which made it all the more frightening when his own force sensitivity was discovered.

"Dm'eri..." Mel'ake was able to choke out, "Did he..? I mean, is he..?"

The woman's somber expression gave Mel'ake the answer, but she still spoke.

"He's dead Mel'ake, I'm sorry."

Mel'ake was able to grab a nearby chair as his legs lost some of their strength and the tears started flowing. Even though he knew it was unlikely, he kept on hoping, never stopped wishing for his big brother's safety. He never expected to be this emotional when he found out the truth, though he suspected that the four glasses of Corellian brandy didn't help. Before he could react, the strange woman was embracing him, allowing him to cry on her shoulder.

"It's alright, Mel'ake. I made a promise. I promised Dm'eri that when I became Sith, I would find you and protect you, and here you are."

"Who.. who are you?" He asked. It was all he could manage.

"Lucerna Nocturne, apprentice to Darth Baras." She broke the embrace and pulled away once Mel'ake was stable on the chair. "Anything you need: weapons, credits, some one to talk to, introductions to cute little red heads, just let me know. Dm'eri was my brother too, after all."

Several months later, Mel'ake had taken Lucerna up on each of her offers, except for the introductions to members of the fairer gender. You never knew when a cute girl you met in a cantina was your long-lost big sister.

Now everyone knows where I got this character’s name. I did consider using the full spelling for her. Chiss names are supposed to be long. But that’s so long to type in chat or for group invite—let alone pronouncing—that I went with a shorter version.

Schehe’ra’zaede approached the Imperial Embassy. An ugly structure to her eye, made to Human esthetics. There was no grace or delicacy in its architecture. Instead it squatted in place like an angry ice-bear at the edge of its cave, daring anyone to approach.

For a moment, she hesitated. Not because of the Embassy’s imposing façade, but the last lingering doubt. An easy decision yesterday, with the soldiers sweeping through the household. They’d missed her, hiding silent in the bottom of a toolbox in the secondary unheated speeder garage. Surrounded by machinery in various stages of disassembly, the metal and unshielded circuitry masked her life signs.

She recognized their insignia. They represented several different kin-groups. Scheh were experts in all kinds of tricks, political and otherwise, and had performed tasks for all of them at one time or another. Now this coalition moved through the compound, choosing and keeping some, turning the rest out. To exile.

Scheh’s situation had always been precarious. Something had changed the balance. There were many possible reasons, but right now the particular something was irrelevant. Scheh’s allies were now her enemies. She had no allies. Except for one.

On instruction, she’d approached the Imperials more than a year ago, pretending to be interested in the Empire, possibly even emigrating. Her mentor, Helara, called it a safe and useful exercise in gathering intelligence. The diplomats introduced her to one of the military attachés, Major Artemis Lindsay.

Schehe’ra’zaede was young, a plausible recruit. Major Lindsay was a thinly-veiled enrollment official. Thus their peculiar relationship evolved, with Schehe’ra’zaede demonstrating polite interest in enlisting while reporting her observations to Helara. The Major, for her part, feigned curiosity in Chiss affairs and culture while subtly pushing Schehe’ra’zade toward a positive view of the Sith Empire. Neither advanced much in the aboveboard portion of their conversations. But then, that was never the point.

Odd that the misdirection portion of her intelligence gathering turned out to be the most valuable. Remaining in the Ascendancy under present circumstances was impossible. Yesterday, emigration felt like the right solution. Logical, positive, a relief. Today, standing in front of the embassy…it felt very final.

She mentally shook off her reservations. The Major intimated she’d be able to pursue biology and medicine, something that was impossible here. Not as pure research, anyway. Scheh was far too political, too practical. This was a wise move. Schehe’ra’zaede marched up the blocky steps—so very alien—at the front of the building. A pair of doors marked with the red symbol of their allies whisked open and allowed her passage inside.

It was warmer within the Embassy, too warm for Schehe’ra’zaede’s liking, but then Humans were accustomed to a more temperate clime. This, in fact, was one of the first things she’d reported to Helara. Behind a long brushed-metal desk stood a handsome receptionist. Handsome even by her standards, considering he was Human like all the Embassy staff.

He looked up from his work as the doors opened, “Shehherrazaday, welcome back.”

A pity this young man had not been her contact. He was far more interesting than Major Lindsay. He still had difficulty with her name, though. “Thank you, Kerwin. Was you promotion approved?” she asked. Kerwin Hix was less guarded than the Major, as well as more attractive. On her last visit, he mentioned studying for a promotional exam.

“No word yet, I’m afraid,” he said, a smile on his lovely lips, “but then no one in my cohort has heard anything, so the graders aren’t singling me out.”

“I’m sure you did well,” she said, leaning slightly on the desk.

“I hope so,” he said, “I’d enjoy moving up a pay grade. Although I might get posted elsewhere.”

“That would be a shame,” Schehe’ra’zaede leaned closer, her expression teasing. Encouraging Kerwin at this juncture was ridiculous, but it was hard not to do.

His return glance spoke volumes, “I would miss the scenery,” he said. Then he straightened and coughed into his hand, “but I expect you’re here to see Major Lindsay.”

Schehe’ra’zaede stifled a sigh. Back to business. This was as far as she ever got with Kerwin. He’d been more flirty early on, but shut down after her first meeting with the Major. She never discovered the reason behind the change, though she did speculate. “If you could arrange it, please.”

“Absolutely, Shehherrazaday. Major Lindsay’s schedule is open this morning,” he said, quickly consulting his computer, “Go ahead, I’ll let her know you’re coming.”

Schehe’ra’zaede knew the way. The Major commanded an office buried deep inside the building. Emblems of her exploits decorated the walls, as well as scenes from Imperial history. Schehe’ra’zaede had memorized them all. The office door opened just as she reached it.

Major Lindsay, a tall blonde woman, her uniform crisp and neat, rose from her seat behind a desk of Kaas teak, “Schehe’ra’zade! So pleased to see you again,” she announced in understandable Cheunh. She could at least pronounce the name reasonably well.

“And you, Major,” said Schehe’ra’zaede with the slight bow favored in Imperial greetings. The door slid closed behind her. “Might we continue in Basic? I do enjoy practicing.” The Major had no real interest in learning Cheunh and took every opportunity to avoid it.

“If you prefer,” Lindsay immediately switched to Basic, “What an interesting time for a visit. I’d have thought you would be with your, what was the announcement? Your adopted family right now,” Lindsay said.

The newsfeeds sometimes reported family adjustments. The Major must have flagged her family name and noted several adoptions into different families. Chiss would understand the unstated subtext—everyone else was exiled. But Major Lindsay would not. Chiss culture was nothing more than a conversation starter for her.

“Actually, that was the reason I wished to speak with you,” Schehe’ra’zaede said.

“Really? Please, do have a seat,” Lindsay indicated one of the soft grey upholstered chairs, the Imperial symbol embroidered in deep red on the backs. Schehe’ra’zaede took the proffered seat, and Lindsay returned to her own, “are you…not pleased with the arrangement?”

Schehe’ra’zaede almost laughed. ‘Not pleased’ was an understatement of massive proportions, but not for any reason she cared to divulge to the Major. “It was not my choice,” she said, deciding on a vague answer.

“Ahh, I see,” she said, “That can be a difficult situation. I must admit, the way Chiss kin-groups function is hard for me to understand.”

Because you do not pay attention. “It can be complicated, Major, to one who has not been immersed in it,” she replied.

“Well, as you know, Schehe’ra’zaede, I’ve always said the Empire could find a place for you, should you choose to emigrate,” said Major Lindsay.

This was uncommonly direct. Schehe’ra’zaede had several subjects for small talk prepared, expecting the conversation to go around for a while before pushing it in this direction. The Major never brought up emigration first. Strange. Stranger still to change the subject, only to maneuver back later. Direct it was, then, “Yes, I know. You’ve often mentioned the medical programs on Dromund Kaas. I believe this would be a good move for me.” There. She said it.

“I am very pleased, Schehe’re’zade. I’m so glad you’ve come to this decision. Give me a moment to look up the relevant information,” Major Lindsay flipped to a screen on her computer. “There is a bit of a problem, however,” Lindsay began.

“Oh?” asked Scheh’ra’zaede. The Major did not seem at all surprised by her announcement. And she had the information needed at her fingertips. Interesting.

“I’m afraid the prestigious Imperial Medical College on Dromund Kaas only accepts Human applicants. Or Sith, of course, should they chose to apply,” Lindsay managed a sad face.

Which was a lie. Schehe’ra’zaede understood Human nonverbal communication quite well. Lindsay was only barely sympathetic. “I see,” Schehe’ra’zaede said, “are there other academies?”

“Well, there is the School of Alien Medicine, but it serves the bonded population. Hardly the place for a skilled member of your fine species,” Lindsay paged through several screens on her computer. “You must understand, Imperial citizens expect to be served by a Human doctor, not an alien. Here on Csilla, you would expect a Chiss doctor, would you not?”

Schehe’ra’zaede had to concede the point, “On Csilla, yes. There are very few aliens here.” Schehe’ra’zaede bit her tongue too late. This was not the time to suggest that on Csilla, Lindsay was the alien. Damage done; it was clear from her posture that Lindsay noted the slight.

Lindsay smiled broadly, “Of course. It can be difficult, you know, surrounded by alien beings. So easy to give offense unintended.” She went back to her computer, “Our medical colleges require proper transcripts, from Imperial-accredited institutions,” Lindsay looked over the top of her screen, “Can you provide one?”

Of course not. Chiss education begins at a young age and follows its own progression. Chiss have mentor-advocates, not transcripts. “I’m afraid the Chiss educational system does not provide a record that Imperial colleges would accept.” That hurt. Schehe’ra’zaede did not expect it to. Lindsay would interpret it to mean Chiss kept poor records, or none, or that she was lying about her credentials. The truth? Her mentor, Helara, was now an adoptee of Sadeq, and no longer in a position to advocate for her. Lindsay would not understand. Lindsay also did not care.

“A shame, that, Schehe’ra’zeade,” Lindsay said, making all the proper sympathetic noises. “Well, there is a possibility, if you’d consider it.”

“And that is?” the catch. What Lindsay planned to introduce all along.

“The Military Academy on Dromund Kaas accepts alien cadets, mostly Chiss. There are quite a few in the Intelligence division,” Lindsay said, “There is, of course, a Medical Corps. You would be well-suited there, I think.”

“The Imperial Military?” While no surprise, she would have preferred a civilian position. Less prestige, perhaps, but also less interference. More research, preferably of a non-lethal nature, which was what she really wanted.

“Why, yes,” Lindsay turned the screen slightly so it no longer blocked their conversation, “For those of us not blessed as Force-sensitive, a career in the military provides excellent opportunities. Should you choose to serve, your Imperial Military record would be more than sufficient to gain admittance to a medical college. Assuming you met any other entrance criteria, of course.”

Meaning, of course, that they accepted Chiss. Which it seemed most did not. Still, the alternatives were worse. Had Scheh not been declared exile, she’d have entered the Chiss military forces, her next best option, and for much the same reason. She was old enough, if barely. The Major, no doubt, had her own reasons for pushing her toward the Imperial military. While relevant, Schehe’ra’zade could not divine any beyond true patriotism or paid incentive. Possibly both. Either was consistent with her behavior to date.

In the end, it made little difference. If exile it was, then it would be exile on her own terms. Or as close as she could manage. “That does interest me, Major, tell me more.”

“You’ve made an excellent choice, Schehe’ra’zade,” said Major Lindsay, escorting her out of the office, “I’ve already forwarded the requisite forms to the Diplomacy Center. If you’ll just speak with one of the secretaries in that department, they’ll finalize everything.”

“Thank you, Major Lindsay,” said Schehe’ra’zaede.

“No, thank you,” she replied, emphasizing the ‘you.’

The Diplomacy Center was on the main level. Schehe’ra’zade found only one secretary present, a pinched old man in an overly formal suit. She walked up to him, “Excuse me, I am Schehe’ra’azaede. Major Lindsay forwarded some forms to you?”

“Hmm?” he asked, “Who?”

“Schehe’ra’zaede,” she repeated.

The little man grumbled and peered at his terminal. “This must be you. A cadet in the Imperial Military Academy?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

He grumbled some more. Schehe’ra’zaede caught something about ‘accepting anyone’ but the rest was lost in muttering. “Yes, here it is,” he said at last, “I need your name again for the visa.”

“Schehe’ra’zaede.”

“Sherra-zahday?” the functionary stumbled over the syllables again, blurring and slurring them together.

“Sche-he’ra’zae-de,” she exaggerated every single syllable, as one might to a recalcitrant child.

“Shehhairra—look, a lot of you people use shorter names. Don’t you have a short name?” the secretary stared up at her.

Schehe’ra’zade refused to let these Humans use her core name simply because they could not properly pronounce Chiss names. Only her family used her core name. On the other hand, the thought of every single person she met mangling her name every single time they spoke it…was daunting. A compromise? “Sha’ra’zaed is acceptable,” she said.

“Sha-ra-zaed. Thank you,” he grumbled. He entered the information and waited for the processing to complete. “There, done and done,” he said, “You’ve a fleet pass ready for travel to Dromund Kaas. Enjoy your visit.”

“Thank you,” Sha’ra’zaed said. She turned to leave the embassy. It did not seem possible to be both relieved and anxious at the same time, yet she was. New opportunities, new chances. And surely, a chance at medical research once she had the required experience. Things looked far better than they had yesterday.

Corso stood in the early gray light of dawn, surrounded by young banthas. He still felt unsettled, uncertain, and vaguely sad. It had been over a year since he’d had his nightmare, the only one he’d ever had, and now it was back. He could see his parent’s farm house from the hill he’d been crossing, not knowing the seps had already killed them. It was only when the house exploded in front of him that he’d known anything was wrong. Only, in his subconscious, Miriah was in the house too, and he lost her as well as his parents, and the agony woke him in a cold panic. He still wasn’t sure how he had kept from waking her, since she never seemed to sleep deeply. Maybe it’s just because we’re here, he thought, she does sleep better here. He knew sleep was done for him, and he wanted her to rest, so he got up, dressed in the hallway, and made his way out to the first barn. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the mental images. He started spreading out the grain for the animals, trying to bury his thoughts in familiar work. The animals snuffled softly, sensing his mood, bumping him with their heads. He absently patted one, then turned to the house, and saw her on the porch. She was holding a cup of something hot, he could see the steam rise from it in the cool predawn air, her eyes not really awake yet. So why am I standing here miserable, when the only one who can make this better is there, he wondered.

Suddenly he broke into a run, scattering the herd around him and vaulted the fence. He saw her drowsy smile as he got closer, her black hair tangled from sleep. He said nothing, but when he got close enough he wrapped her in a hug and breathed in the scent of her, peaches and vanilla.

“G’morning, handsome,” she said softly. He had such a huge lump in his throat that he didn’t answer, and was embarrassed to realize he had tears in his eyes, only wanting to hold her until he could get a grip on his emotions. She could feel there was something wrong, but when he finally loosened his arms and bent his head to kiss her, he had managed to put a smile on his face and could breathe again, so she didn’t ask, just took his hand and led him inside.

They were having an impromptu family reunion at the ranch that afternoon, and Miriah had been cooking the two days they’d been there in preparation. She had huge bowls of salad and cut fruit, the grill stuff ready, and two cheesecakes, one with berries and one with tiny chocolate chips and caramel. She smiled to herself, knowing which one would be gone first. She’d cleaned up after breakfast and wandered out to sit outside, recalling the early morning and how strange it felt to wake up and not find Corso beside her. They hadn’t had any disagreements, she thought, and he didn’t seem upset last night. She had to smile at that, since she’d found a use for the leftover caramel sauce she’d made, and he’d seemed to enjoy it as well. Well, he’ll tell me when he’s ready, I won’t push him, she thought. He’d gone back out to the livestock after breakfast, moving a herd to a different grazing area, but only after he’d given her several long, slow kisses that had her knees weak. She lay back in the chair, soaking in the sun, and felt content.

Aric, Maura and the twins were gathered outside with Miriah and Corso when Magdalane and Felix arrived, everyone enjoying the perfect weather and the giggles of the babies. They grow so fast, Miriah thought, as she handed Calleigh to Magdalane, who let out a contented sigh. Miriah looked over at Corso, who was staring intently at her, a faintly anxious expression on his face. She smiled at him and cocked her head, trying to figure out what he was thinking. He blinked a few times, then returned her smile, seeming himself again. Magdalane noticed this, and when she had Miriah alone in the kitchen she asked what was going on.

“I honestly don’t know, Mags, he just seems..different today. He woke up really early, and went out to be with the animals, I have no idea what woke him or why I didn’t hear him. He was his normal self before we went to sleep, then this morning it’s like he’s, I don’t know, afraid of something.”

“His aura is troubled, his energy is anxious,” Magdalane told her. “I’ll see if he’ll talk to me later.”

When they walked outside again, Corso was feeding Calleigh, a gentle smile on his face as he looked down at her. She was holding his little finger in her hand, as he held her bottle, and Miriah was again touched at seeing him with a baby in his arms. He glanced up and caught her expression, and for the first time that day he felt normal. Magdalane sat down beside him, smiling down at the almost-asleep Calleigh. When the baby was done with her bottle, Magdalane told Corso, “Bring her inside, I set up the portable crib in there so they can sleep.”

He followed her into the cool house and gently placed the baby beside her brother, and when he straightened he knew Magdalane had sensed something wrong.

“What’s disturbing my normally happy brother in law?” she asked him in a soft voice. He looked at his feet for a few seconds, then sighed, knowing she might be able to help him but hating that he would have to tell her.

“Well, after my parents were killed, I had this nightmare for a few years, off and on. I had it again last night, first time in a long time. It bothered me, that’s all.”

She sensed he was hedging the truth, and just waited him out until he began to speak again. “I had gone to check a gate I wasn’t sure I had closed that morning. When I came over the little hill at the back of the house, I was whistling. Then about three steps down the hill the whole house exploded, and I saw the seperatists running out the front. My parents were dead, and I was whistling,” he said in a flat voice, doing all he could to control the emotions. “This morning, I had the same nightmare, except,” he choked out, “Miriah was in the house too.” He turned abruptly, then turned back to face Magdalane, “I almost died of grief when my parents were killed. I would die if anything happened to Miriah, and even the thought of that in a dream has had me on edge all day.”

Magdalane’s heart went out to him, “How old were you when it happened, Corso?”

“I’d had my fourteenth birthday the week before,” he said, rubbing his face. “I know it wasn’t my fault, but I felt guilty anyway. Just like I know I’d never put Miriah in a situation where she could be hurt or killed, but it could still happen, has happened before, in fact.” He paced in front of the crib, “I know it was just a nightmare, but it’s been hard to forget today, for some reason.” He walked away, out to the grill again, just to have something to do that felt normal. Miriah walked up to him and hugged him, laying her head on his back. He reached around to pull her to his side, leaning over to kiss the top of her head.

She looked up at him, “I don’t know what’s happened that has you unhappy, but I love you, and I’m here.” Just that one statement, he thought, was enough. He felt the heaviness he’d carried all day disappear, as he held her close at his side, the beautiful day taking its place, and as he looked around at his family, he felt grateful.

Esma slid through the forest, listening to the night calls, the rustling and far cries of hunting animals, feeling the Force ebb and flow through the ancient ruins as she returned to their campsite. The planet was far from asleep.

Her silent grace didn't disturb the dark figure sitting in the ring of light. Scourge looked deeply into the fire, red reflected on red, setting his eyes more ablaze than usual. His natural element: warming if you didn't touch it, searing if you dared. Destructive, yes, but cleansing as well. His eyes lifted to hers, and she took his outstretched hand, allowing him to pull her down to sit in his lap, surrounded by his heat. She settled her head against his chest, feeling the rightness of where she was to her bones.

"I once spent many nights tending fires," he said, his voice rumbling beneath her cheek.

"When was that?"

"When I fled from my fate. What a fool I was," he said, his tone mocking, amused at his younger self.

"You mean when you tried to stop your vision of your brother's death?"

He nodded, his hand sliding up and down her back mindlessly as he stared into the fire. "He used to follow me," he said, almost haltingly, "when we were young. I, of course, found him most irritating." The smile that traced his lips was sad. "He followed me everywhere. Even, in the end, to a place so far from our world they did not recognize Sith."

She looked up at his face, "It must have been awful."

"What was to be, was," Scourge said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "My visions are never wrong."

"Doesn't mean it didn't hurt. To kill your own brother."

Scourge was silent for a long moment, the flames from the fire flickering in his eyes. "I'm told the inhabitants of that world still tell tales of a cloudless night when lightening crashed on the mountain and two red gods fought with swords of fire. They say there was silence and then a howl that chilled the bones echoed through the valleys." His hand stilled on her back. "Yes, it hurt. I mourned him with our people's song and lit his pyre there on that mountain."

"What song?"

He looked down at her with a raised eyebrow. "It is not a cheerful sound."

"Sing it to me," she said, her voice soft.

He was silent for a moment and then began to sing. The rich low tones carried through the ruins and painted a picture of fallen red warriors, silent blades, fading strength, and the death of hope. When the last notes died away, Scourge rubbed the tears that ran in rivulets down Esma's face away. "I'm sorry for you," she said, "and for your brother."

Scourge kissed her softly in the firelight, his knowing eyes sure and sad at once. "What is to be, will be."

Scourge's brother is my own invention (unless he is yet to be revealed and I somehow divined the whole thing, lol).

So glad Kabeone reminded me of this, because Scourge's visions and his absolute confidence that they are always right defines so much about him. Esma's absolute confidence in the Force defines her and between the two of them they're just a little pile of faith, lol.