Part 1, Ipha wakes in Wrongville

Part 2, Brei'yu wakes in Wrongville, finds Pierce in her bed.

Part 3, Brei'yu meets Pierce's Sith lord, gets a surprise.

Part 4, The brain burns are discovered, a mystery

Part 5, Ipha talks with Jorgan, Brei'yu gets a warning.

Part 6, Brei'yu contacts Ipha.

Part 7, A hesitant meeting between sisters.

Part 8, Poole closes in on the girls' location, the girls start to uncover the weird.

Part 9, The plot revealed.

Part 10, The place it all ends, just to continue.

Everyone wanted to be in the med bay. Elara allowed only Poole, Westan and Jorgan to remain. Everyone else hovered outside the door, listening, watching. Lokin talked his way into the lab, insisting he could give Brei'yu a better exam because he was familiar with her medical history. Elara protested to Poole.

“Do you really want to trust an Imperial 'doctor' in here?” she asked quietly as Poole regarded Lokin over her shoulder.

“She's one of his people,” he said with the barest of shrugs. “They're here to help.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “I recognize your reluctance, but I think you should allow this. But, it's up to you. I'm not going to override the doctor.”

Elara pursed her lips. “Very well, Major. But I wish for you to keep an eye on him. A close one.”

“Done.” He gave her an intimate smile and gestured to Lokin.

Lokin patted Vector on the arm in a fatherly fashion. “I will take good care of her,” he promised.

“We have every faith,” Vector murmured.

“I'm fine,” Brei'yu insisted as Lokin came to her bedside. “Really. I just... how is Ipha?”

“Any dizziness? Disorientation?” Lokin asked, pressing her shoulder back so she would lie down.

“No,” Brei'yu said. “A bit of a headache. Ipha?”

Elara stood over Ipha, holding a kolto injector in her hand. Ipha spotted it, cringed back and put her hands out. “What is that? What is it?”

“Just kolto, Lieutenant. Lie still. You won't feel it.”

Ipha took a deep breath and nodded. “Sorry. It's just the last time I saw you you were trying to knock me out. With needles. Again.”

Elara raised an eyebrow. “Then I apologize for my appalling behavior.”

“Is it story time?” Brei'yu asked. “I'll show you mine if you show me yours.” She smiled at Westan as Lokin passed a scanner over her body.

Westan recounted the information they had gotten from the Anomid scientists, emphasizing that the women had been having experiences that were taking place in their minds only. Specifically, Ipha's mind. Brei'yu and Ipha both looked at Jorgan. He didn't take his eyes off Ipha.

“That's all wonderfully horrifying,” Ipha said quietly when Westan stopped talking. “But could you go back to the part where a Republic Senator decided I was the best thing since Gree technology to experiment on? Because I'm finding I don't appreciate his sentiment.”

“I don't want you to worry about that,” Poole said, letting his voice sound amused as relief flooded him. Ipha was being snarky, she was going to be fine. “It will be taken care of.”

“Belsavis is too expensive so we're just going to suspend you in juice while you all share the same delusion? Really? Who even thinks that's a good idea?” She tried to run her fingers through her sticky hair, got her fingers caught and had to untangle them.

“Are the burns still there?” Brei'yu said suddenly.

“Burns?” Lokin asked. “What sort of burns?”

“Without going into all the boring detail,” Brei'yu winked at Westan indicating he'd get all that boring detail later, “Ipha and I had medical exams done when we were... uh... in there. We both had burns on our...” she paused. “Brains... something -mus.”

“Thalamus,” Ipha inserted. “My burn was on my thalamus.”

“That's it. Quinn said it was the motor skills part. And perception,” Brei'yu nodded.

“Quinn?” Westan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I apparently retained more information about your brother's crew than either of us ever expected.” She shrugged.

“You dreamed that you spoke to the Captain of my brother's ship?”

“I didn't just speak to him. The guy did a total medical work up on me. Which, found the brain burn. And if Lokin finds one on my brain now, I'm going to declare myself a doctor and cure people by sleeping on their problems. And burning things”

Lokin and Elara administered the appropriate tests and Brei'yu was left staring at a very clear and relatively healthy scan of her brain. “So,” she asked after a quiet moment. “There's goes the future billions I'll make. What does it mean?”

“We knew something was wrong,” Ipha said quietly from the other bed, where she had yet to get up. “We were screaming at ourselves to figure it out.”

“Ipha's medical training and her understanding of human biology was probably, I don't know what term to use, leaking, maybe? Spreading? Affecting Brei'yu and causing her to subconsciously know these things,” Elara said. “It's all frighteningly fascinating, in a terrible way.”

“But we destroyed the equipment,” Jorgan said. “Everything right? It's gone now.”

“That was the fun part,” Kaliyo said before going to find something more interesting to do. This ship was Republic military, who knew what was around to steal.

Yuun grated in his native language, gesturing placidly. “What did he say?” Vik asked.

“Yuun sliced the computer, he corrupted the information before the equipment was destroyed. Anything the Anomids had is useless now. Whatever is left we'll track down and nix too,” Poole said.

“I want a shower,” Ipha said suddenly. Brei'yu watched her disappear into the refresher off the med bay. Havoc Squad dispersed and Poole ordered Vik to shadow Kaliyo. He didn't trust her.

“Now tell me what you aren't telling us,” she said to Lokin when Ipha and the others were gone.

Lokin and Adris shared a look. “I sliced the computer before the Gand got it and downloaded all the Anomids' research onto this datacron,” Lokin said when Adris gave him the nod.

Brei'yu looked down at the 'cron in his hand. “I don't think I like the idea of you having it,” she said icily.

“The Anomid's research was abhorrent, to be sure,” Lokin said breezily. “But what else did they know? And how can we use it?”

“At what cost?” Brei'yu asked. “My sister's sanity? Some Force using schmuck forced to coerce people's brains into believing they're the Emperor because it's 'cleaner?' Prisoners tomorrow, who after that? A troublesome planet, the entire Evocaii race? No. Not even for one grain of useful information.” She held her hand out for the datacron and after a gusty sigh, Lokin handed it over. “This stops here.” She left the medical bay intent on finding the Gand and destroying the cube.

Lokin waited a moment then looked to Westan. “I made a copy,” he said.

Westan pressed his lips together. “I don't like the idea of you having it either, but you're the best one to understand any of it, if there's something there to understand. Brei'yu never knows. You hearing me?”

“Perfectly. Let us adjourn with the rest of crew, before the attractive Lieutenant Dorne thinks we're stealing Republic secrets.”

She found her sister later, tucked into the a corner of the crew quarters as though trying to hide. Ipha was staring off into the shadows, a tear chasing who knew how many others down her cheek. Brei'yu crouched and took both her hands tightly. Ipha's eyes slid to hers. She looked heart broken.

“I didn't tell you, when we were in there, because things just moved so fast. And I was angry at you. In there, I had everything I wanted.” She paused as her shoulders drooped. “And I was pregnant. In there, I told myself I was.”

Brei'yu put both hands on Ipha's wet cheeks and tilted her face up. She kissed her forehead, holding her lips there for a moment. No one could have told her a week ago that she would be in her sister's presence again, let alone make her believe she'd ever touch her sibling with caring again in her life. Little miracles, bigger ones. “I'm good at reading people,” Brei said. “I think you need to tell him. He told you to tell him.”

“I told me to tell him,” Ipha corrected. “I think I'm going a little crazy.”

“I can't make the decision for you,” Brei said. “But I believe it will lead to less heartache and insanity on your part.”

“Or I'll just get my heart broken, because we're in the real world now and not some self serving fantasy land.”

“He hovered,” Brei'yu said, looking out the door. “In the med bay he hovered over you. Not so close that Dorne would object, but he was right there. He watched you closely. Sometimes he'd reach for you, your shoulder or your hair. But he'd pull back before touching you. But he kept reaching. Like he wanted to make sure you were there.”

Ipha eyed her sister, uncertain she was being told the truth. “I know he's attracted to me. But that's just attraction. The Captain knows how to button down emotion.”

“I don't think you were capable of seeing him when you got out of the tank. The way he held on to you. And when I came over... He let me close because I was your sister. But if I had hurt you in anyway, he would have ripped my throat out. He wasn't very buttoned-down at that point.”

“No, you're right. I need to stop being a useless prat about it. We're out now right? Everything is going to be fine.”

“More fine than in there.”

Ipha looked sadly at Brei'yu. “You had nothing in there, in my mind. I had my crew, my... I had Jorgan. Everything. And I didn't have the decency to give you one little thing. Your Joiner, that Westan guy.”

Brei'yu tugged fondly on Ipha's fringe. “To be fair, when we got in there you were still pretty mad at me. Bet you thought I had it coming.”

“Are we...?”

“I'm fine if you're fine. I missed you.”

Ipha nodded. “At the end, when.. everything was coming down. I was leaving but I could still hear you. Did you mean it? Any of it?”

“Every word. You're my family. I was a stupid kid. I'm not going apologize for the life I've lead, but I'm sorry I ever hurt you.”

“You left. Us. The Republic. Because of things like this.”

Brei'yu frowned. “Don't, Ipha. Don't think about that right now. Neither side is fully right, fully clean. Just, don't focus on that too hard right now.”

“If not now, when?” Ipha sighed. “I think I'm tired.”

“Let's lie down. My brain could use a rest too.”

And that's where they were found, sleeping in the bunk Jorgan usually claimed, curled together like children.

<end>

Just for once, I wanted to have Rixik not get away with something.

Rixik pushed the blaster across the counter, “So, what do you say?” he asked.

The gunsmith ran silvered fingers over the weapon, pulling on her ear with her free hand, “I don’t know, Rixik, that’s a lot of mods, lot of work. A lot of credits.”

Rixik leaned on the counter, meeting the dark-haired Human woman’s equally dark eyes, “C’mon Zinka. I can’t do these mods myself, so I come to the best.”

Zinka pursed her lips, “Flattery won’t get you a discount, Jesp Rixik.”

“Wasn’t necessarily angling for a discount, doll,” he replied. Zinka Vernet was one of the best gunsmiths on Nar Shaddaa, and by far the cutest. A perfect combination as far as Rixik was concerned. He brushed a finger over her cybernetically-enhanced one, the one methodically measuring and mapping his weapon.

“Or a date,” Zinka said, slipping her hand out from under his and turning her attention back to the blaster. “This piece is pretty custom as it is. It won’t take standard parts.”

“So?” Rixik’s hand crept back in, “I’m sure we could find the right parts in the back room somewhere.”

Zinka looked up and scowled, “I’ve shot people who were less obnoxious. Do you want to discuss upgrades or not?”

“Fine, fine, all business, as usual,” he said, palms out in surrender. Zinka still wasn’t interested. Oh well, never hurt to try. “So what will the modifications set me back?”

“Well, with the new hot-load, increased charge, and the suite of accuracy mods you’re looking at 30k,” she said.

“For both, right?” he asked, knowing what her answer would be.

She laughed, “Right. Try each, hotshot.”

“Each?” Rixik exclaimed, “How about 50k for the pair?”

“How about 60k for the pair?” Zinka retorted, “I suppose I could be convinced to make it 70.”

“Bargaining the wrong direction, Mesh’la,” Rixik said.

“This isn’t bargaining, Rixik,” Zinka said, “and you’re up to sixty-five.”

“What? Why?”

“Irritation surcharge. Want to try for more?” Zinka said, smiling.

“You are an annoying woman, Zinka,” Rixik groused. Zinka would be so much more fun out on the Promenade or in Club Vertica . “All right, sixty-five. On delivery?”

Zinka ran her fingers over the blaster, “You want them done one at a time, or both together?”

Rixik considered for a moment. He had plenty of spares, but none were as good as these. So the question really came down to ‘how much trouble do you plan to get into?’ Very little, for a change. At least until he got the weapons taken care of. “Both together. You can have the other as soon as I get my backups.” There was a chime as Rixik’s comlink alerted him of an incoming call. He ignored it.

“All right, let’s go twenty-five up front and the balance on delivery,” Zinka said, pulling the blaster to her side of the counter. The comlink chimed again, this time with an urgent tag. “You going to answer that?” she asked.

“Rude to take a call while I’m already talking to you,” Rixik replied. Besides, the last time he took an urgent call in the middle of negotiations he ended up getting shot at and stranded on Kuat with no credits. He’d probably still have credits, but getting shot was quite possible with Zinka.

She smiled, “Well, that’s a rare thing. Especially from you,” she said,

“See, you just don’t know me well enough,” he said. Date? Maybe? “I might surprise you.”

“Anything good would be a surprise,” Zinka said, still smiling.

The comlink chattered to life, emanating a whine then a heavily distorted male voice, “Is it through? That’s what I paid you for, moron, now get out of my way. Rixik? Jesp Rixik? I know you’re there, this idiot slicer I bought just forced the connection, so don’t pretend you can’t hear me. Nice, by the way, changing your holofrequency like that. And before you ask, no, I’m not going to tell you how I know you’re here on Nar Shaddaa. Answer me, slimeball, I know you’re there.”

Rixik blinked slowly. Zinka’s smile vanished, “You, ah, want to take that now?” she asked.

“Someone’s with you?” the comlink sputtered, “You with a woman? He’s a liar and a cheat, sweetie, I hope you got paid up front.”

Rixik sighed, “Yeah, I better take it,” he muttered.

Zinka stepped back from the counter. There really wasn’t anywhere to go for privacy. Rixik meandered into the corner between a pair of blastproof display cases and dug the comlink out, “What do you want, Weems?”

“Oh, so you finally answer. I want my credits, Rixik, whaddya think?” Weems growled.

“It’s in the HoloNet, idiot. Everything was fine on my end,” Rixik shot back. Since he’d never done the transfer, of course things were fine on his end.

“I wouldn’t need your credits if I had one for every dirtbag who tried that line,” Weems snarled. “I did quality work for you, and then you skip town, won’t answer my messages, then you change your holofrequency. What am I supposed to think?”

Rixik rolled his eyes, “Someone vaped me? Happens all the time Weems.”

“Yeah, well you sound pretty healthy for a guy breathing vacuum. I can arrange that, by the way.”

“Try it,” Rixik replied, frosty, “might find it’s harder than you think. I take threats like that seriously, Weems, I think you ought to reconsider your last remark.”

“I been keeping track. You’re moving up. Getting to be a big player, now,” Weems sighed, “Just pay what you owe, Rixik. I got a reputation to uphold. I can’t go lettin’ guys off the hook like that. Even guys like you.”

Rixik glanced at Zinka’s reflection in the glass display case in front of him. He knew he could bully Weems into caving, but then he’d never get Zinka to touch his weapons. Or anything else, for that matter, not that it was likely. At this point it wouldn’t matter whether he got Weems to forgive the debt or not. Damage done.

To be fair, Weems and his crew had done a decent enough job on the hyperdrive. It was still a piece of crap, but that wasn’t Weems’ fault. It was the Neimodian idiot he’d stolen it from, and he couldn’t kill him twice. He’d just had a bit of a cash-flow problem at the time.

Grr. Fine. “Well, Weems, since you asked nicely, I’ll take care of it.”

“I’m keeping this connection open until I see my credits,” Weems replied.

Untrusting bastard. Rixik keyed in the transfer codes, “You watching, Weems?”

“Yeah, and I—well. That’s that I guess. I, uh, okay. Look, the next time you need some repairs, pick someone else if it’s all the same. You’re still on my poodoo list.”

“I love you too, Weems,” Rixik said and cut the connection. Then he pulled out the comlink’s power cell for good measure. That’s it. Kark instant communications. He was through carrying a comlink or a holoreceiver or anything when he was working. People that desperate to get a hold of him could just leave a message.

He turned his attention back to Zinka. She stood behind the counter of the gun shop, arms folded akimbo. “So, twenty-five now and the rest on delivery?” he asked.

“In your dreams. Sixty-five. In advance. On credsticks,” she said flatly.

He wondered, briefly, if he could convince someone to pay money for Weems’ head. Since revenge on it’s own didn’t pay the bills. “I don’t carry that kind of cash in my pocket around here, Zinka,” he replied finally.

“You want work done, those are the terms,” she slid the one blaster back across the counter, “You bring them both in, with the credsticks, I’ll do the mods for you.”

Rixik holstered the blaster, “I suppose dinner is out of the question.”

“Get out of my shop before I shoot you.”

His cause was righteous. His intent, pure. His motives, for the Republic. And maybe a little for the nestegg account of credits that would see him through the rest of his life. A life he would spend straightening out the Republic's best interests.

His fingers were in so many pies the flavors were melding together. His agents spun webs from every corner of Republic space. He was breaking into Imperial space as well. The possibilities of what he could do with that was a feeling so glorious, it bordered on sexual.

His speech was fervent and the applause a high found no where else in the galaxy. His voice, his one voice among billions, was heard, respected, obeyed. This was what life was, this was what it was all about. Power.

He was so absorbed in the positive feedback of his fellow Senators that he didn't see the Republic's finest enter the meeting chambers. He didn't register that ting of warning, that little niggling of paranoia that kept him alive all these years. The glowing rush had momentarily silenced his higher instincts.

The hand that closed around his bicep was hard, armored and, to his mind, cruel. Figuring it to be some lowly aide, he waved the hand away. He was about to line up funding for his next big project. Millions of credits would rain down on him. Millions and millions.

That hand was back and an annoyed frown crossed his face. Not acceptable in front of this Senator before him. The alien could almost single-handedly back his project. “Please, pardon me,” he said smoothly to the crusty Mon Calamari Senator. “This is a bad time,” he continued as he turned, only to be met with the soulless stare of a military helmet.

“You're to come with me, Senator.” The modulated voice was cold.

“Not possible,” he said with some heat. “I have meetings lined up for the day. If you wish to court me to some military cause, you'll have to get in touch with my secretary.”

“You're coming with me.” The voice was so cold, it couldn't possibly be coming from a sentient throat.

Then he was being pulled from the bustling room. In an effort to protect his dignity he kept the fuss to a minimum until they were clear of his peers. Then he threw a fit.

“What is the meaning of this crude intrusion?” he cried as he wrenched his arm out of the heavy armored grasp. “Do you have any idea the time and credits it takes to get an audience with even half of the people currently occupying that room? I could have bought your rank and career ten times over for what I paid just for the food!”

Both his arms were grabbed, sure to leave bruising, and he was perp marched down the hallway. He was beginning to realize it was empty. The military unit surrounding him said nothing.

“I am a Republic Senator. You cannot treat me in this manner! I demand to know what's going on!”

The officer to his left, Captain by the rank on the armor, leaned closer. He found himself holding his breath as that blank helmet cocked in his direction. “You don't deserve your station, Fren'ishe,” the modulated voice said. It was male and hateful.

“I'll have your stripes for this. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be cleaning refreshers on Carrick Station.”

“You'll have nothing,” the Captain said. “You won't exist anymore.”

The chill that rode his spine was a shock. He continued his threats and his bravado even as his confidence waned. The glow he had felt earlier had given way to bladder weakening fear. He was brought into a tiny meeting room and made to sit. Weapons were trained on him like he was some kind of criminal. A woman walked in and came to stand in parade rest before him.

He knew her. “General Garza! At last, someone not touched by insanity. Call these akk dogs off. I want their names, their ranks and their superiors.”

“Senator Mufaade Fren'ishe. You've been found guilty of crimes against the Republic and her citizens,” Garza said coldly. The ice in her voice froze his blood.

What are you talking about?” His words were a whine.

Garza nodded and the soldier beside her removed her helmet. He looked at her, memorizing her features so that when he got out of there he could take her apart. Every stripe, every victory would be sullied. She would be broken beneath his boot heel.

“You don't recognize me, do you?” she asked sadly.

“Did I get you pregnant? Do you want money? I have money,” he said.

“There used to be a lab on Hutta. I say used to be because it was burned to the ground. Everyone and everything inside was burned with it. I was in that lab. I was experimented on in that lab. Under your orders.” Her green eyes were dull as she looked at him. She was a pretty girl, in another place he would have taken her to his bed in a heartbeat. Her dull sad eyes were disconcerting.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he protested. Even though he did.

The wall behind her lit with information. The information his committee kept confidential. Information about the Entropy Experiment. He looked at the damning information and then into her dull eyes.

“You tried to make me disappear,” she said.

“Your sacrifice would have been for the good of the Republic. You're a soldier. It's your job-”

The Captain beside him belted him across the face. Garza put her hand up. “Captain! Control yourself.”

“It's her job to fight for freedom and justice in the galaxy. Not to lay down and be one of your test subjects,” came the tight answer, but he was not struck again.

“Your involvement in the Entropy Experiments is being circulated. It's widely known by now that you've been placed under arrest,” Garza said. “The verdict of your trail will be public knowledge.”

“What verdict? What trial?” His voice was pitched to hysteria.

Garza walked out without a word. The huge male who had taken him in the first place came to stand in front of him. He removed his helmet. His squad followed suit.

“The verdict is guilty,” Poole said. “Your punishment is to disappear.”

Something strikes me as deeply wrong when the accused can be found guilty in their absence when it seems clear he was available for trial (I know it's done when people aren't available) and the sentence? Cold. Being imprisoned for life would have sent a message, but completely disappearing sends something else entirely. It's interesting to see the "good guys" doing something that one might consider ethically questionable, both in motive and execution.

And Lokin - I love him, but man is he unsettling sometimes. Really looking forward to seeing Ipha and Jorgan figure stuff out! The last bit, I was reminded of that line 'nasty little men like you always get their comeuppance.' I can't see Garza, or Poole for that matter, taking the risk of giving this guy time to play the system, so that really made sense to me.

I woke up in the makeshift hospital the resistance ran outside West Ford City. It had been thirty-five Imperials, give or take, since Illyris had been arrested and disappeared into the big Imperial prison in town. I wasn't counting days just then. If I concentrated I could still feel her hair brushing my face, the back of my hand.

What is there to say? She was a student, brilliant, fearless. A resistance sympathizer and occasional combat support, one who could place a blaster bolt with the best of 'em. She had this fine long hair, like white aurodium that'd flirted with gold just enough to keep the people who were truly dead to poetry from calling it colorless. There've been other girls, but never one quite like her. She wasn't the one who should've been taken when the op went wrong.

Thirty-five Imperials later, give or take, and this op went wrong, too, and here I was, unable to feel half my face.

I blinked a bit with the eye that wasn't bandaged. There was somebody sitting by my cot.

"Mama?" I said. "You shouldn’t be here."

"I got approval," she said sternly. She always did have a way of giving orders fifty times her size. "Lie back, Vierce."

"How'd the rest of us make out?"

"Kino and old Greggs died in that blast. Imperial losses at eight or more in addition to some equipment. The rest of our people got out…though I'm told they had to drag you away. You were going about half blind, putting blaster fire into any Imperial helmet you saw, whether it was moving or not."

"Oh."

The space where Illyris wasn't burned at me. People didn't leave the prison she'd gone into. We could only hope that when the occupation was gone we could sort out the…what was left. If I had been there in the team that got taken…but I wasn't.

"In fact, Vierce, they had to knock you out." Mama pushed her graying hair back. "It makes no sense to fight your own people like that."

"They were holding me back." I did remember that much.

"That's not the way these matters get solved."

"They get solved by me going out and fixing it, Mama."

She patted my hand softly, but there was nothing of gentleness on her face. "When your father died I wanted to avenge him. It ate at me night and day. I wanted to set it right, or at least hurt anyone who had ever had anything to do with it. But I couldn't. They were too big, I was too small. To try would have done nothing except get me killed."

I didn't answer that.

“Kirsk is gone," she said. "He left no word, I've no way of knowing if he's ever coming back to this planet. And your father is long dead. You’re all I have, Vierce."

"But I don't…she isn't…I won't even know what day she died on. Maybe I can't make all of them pay, but I have to do something."

"You'll do what you have to. I expect no less from my boy. But you listen to me.” She gripped my hand harder and leaned in, driving each new word with a force I hadn’t known her capable of. “You do not have to die.”

I guess the look on her face then is what got me through the rest of it.

*

"You never did tell me how you got so pretty," Jorgan said. We were doing a last rifle check before we went out on the hunt.

I raised a hand to the burn scars that stretched from temple to jaw on one side of my face. "Roadside bomb," I told him. That's what I tell everyone.

It would seem my mind is stuck on "depressing as all hell" mode this weekend. I need to go wash my brain out with happy puppies or something.

Aric looked at the sleeping woman beside him, wondering if he’d just gone and lost his mind. She outranks me, he thought, and still I couldn’t stay away. Problem is, I don’t care. She can demote me to recruit and I’d still not regret this. He almost got up then, but realized he didn’t want to. He thought about what a friend had told him, long ago in boot camp. His friend had fallen for a woman who was engaged to another, and he told Aric that it didn’t matter, his heart was not his own anymore and he couldn’t tell it what to want.

She rolled toward him, her russet waves trailing over her face. She has no idea how striking she is, he thought. She thinks people look at her because she’s a soldier with a huge cannon on her shoulder. He’d noticed her in a full room of people when she’d first reported to Ord Mantell, and she wasn’t armed then.

The Cathar weren’t like other species. When they chose a mate, it was a lifetime thing, to the point that if something should happen to one, the remaining mate would never choose another. Aric knew it was pointless to argue with himself, he’d chosen, even if he didn’t say the words out loud. Maura shivered, and he pulled her to him, already berating himself in his head. He knew, in his heart that wasn’t his anymore, that even if she eventually rejected him, he’d found his mate. He would never love another, he’d already committed himself to her and she had no idea.

She opened her amber eyes then, and looked into his vivid green ones, and smiled sleepily. I’ll tell her, he thought, soon.

This Vierce story feels like the harshest one I've done to date. I hesitated to do such blunt TRAGIC PAST LOVE. It feels too much like wallowing in the grimdark. But there are a number of elements that've been kicking around waiting for an expression, and when Illyris showed up in my head she seemed to accommodate several of them in ways that the story of a simple brother-in-arms couldn't.

Just in this one, I finally squeezed in:

• Vierce 'zerker rage and the factor that finally convinced him to wrap some caution around it
  
• Vierce has dated women before
  
• He likes blondes
  
• He is capable of the occasional hopeless gushiness...sometimes, rarely
  
• This event is how he got his face torn up
  
• His mother, while strong-willed, is more inclined than he is to favor survival and protection over revenge
  
• Kirsk was flaking out and running off for adventure even before the occupation ended (I think that this entry is from when Vierce was 19 and Kirsk 17, one year before the occupation's end)
  
• We know Vierce gets defensive on some matters; here we see there are others he pushes way down into casual-denial/hiding territory, even with people he likes and trusts
  
• "Hunt" is still very high on the list of words Vierce still uses to conceptualize dealing with Imps
  

So...yeah, the mood varies a lot between stories. It's surreal to look at lives that have so much habitual danger and loss and think that these people also have good days, and senses of humor, and silly in-jokes, and awkward first dates, and all the rest of it. I like that they have that. Life goes on and so on. But it's really strange to see it next to all the ugly.

So then I thought "hey at least he'll get closure when they locate, ID, and properly bury Illyris's remains post-occupation," and then I thought "goddammit that doesn't qualify as comfort, I need to give Havoc Squad a puppy. And candy. And rainbows."

Oh, also, I don't think I've mentioned it here yet! I finished Vierce's class line. Spoilers for endgame:

I ran into to the mayor's office dust-covered, sweating, and carrying a whole lot of questions.

"Mayor, I know you said there's been activity like this, but that attack…those explosions were beyond reason."

Mayor Klerren peered anxiously at me. "Is anyone else…?"

My team filed into the mayor's office as I spoke. "No. We intercepted a couple of droids carrying additional payloads, but we neutralized 'em. Did your man say there were sixty-four dead and wounded from just the first one of those today? And there's been more than one wave of this?"

"Yes, you heard right."

I looked back at Jorgan. We had a bomb expert on the list of Havoc Squad defectors. Name of Fuse. If there was sudden new high-yield bomb activity at the same time as vague reports of a former Havoc man here…well.

The mayor's man skittered in from the inner office. "Sir, there's someone on the line. He claims to have vital information about the bomber's identity."

What? Really," said Mayor Klerren. "Put him through."

The assistant routed something onto the holo. A pale nervous-looking Zabrak showed up. "Ah! Uh, hello there, Mayor Klerren, sir. My name is Vanta Bazren, and I have vital information for you regarding…" Then he noticed me. "I'm sorry, is that…Sergeant, is that you? It's me, Fuse! From Ord Mantell, remember?"

I avoided laughing, but only barely. "Yeah. I don't forget." I turned to the mayor. "Sir, this individual has sensitive information I'm going to need to extract. Would you mind excusing us? I promise to get all the information he has on your bomber."

"Er, yes, of course." Mayor Klerren gestured to his assistant and the two left.

"Now, then." I turned back to Fuse. "I was saying. I remember you and Ord Mantell very well, Fuse."

"I…I'm sorry. I-I don't know what I was thinking."

"As I recall, you were thinking 'the Empire respects its warriors' and you were eager to bring them a 'present' to help them with it. Anything else you need your memory refreshed on?"

"I know, uh, you might not believe this, but…I'm really, really glad you're here. If anyone can shut down the Imps and stop the bombings in Anchorhead, it's you."

"Shutting down Imps is a specialty of Havoc Squad."

He swallowed hard. "Please, I-I don't have much time. If they catch me transmitting, they'll, uh…it won't be good. The Imps brought me here to design bombs. Desert planet, middle of nowhere, makes sense, right? Then Colonel Gorik, the Imp leader, wants to test the bombs. But, he wouldn't use the empty deserts – he wanted a live testing ground. He chose Anchorhead."

"He just decided to go testing your inventions on the nearest innocents?" said Jorgan.

"That's the Empire for you," I said. My throat felt tight.

"Not every Imperial officer is a murderous psychopath, but still. Yeah. Pretty horrible. As soon as I found out…I told Gorik I wouldn't do it. Never. So his men locked me up in here. Gorik's afraid of Tavus, or he would've just killed me. Only you can stop Gorik now. Let me help you – let me tell you who's putting the bomb droids together."

"You'll tell me a hell of a lot more than that, Fuse."

"I will! I'll help you find Gorik's base, I'll turn myself in. Just please, stop the droid production first so they won't hurt anyone else." He started typing at the console on his end, sending information about the droid facility over.

"Fine. I clean that up. Then I take you into custody."

If he had stuck around on Ord Mantell he might know me well enough to know exactly what I meant by "take into custody." But he hadn't. Instead he sounded relieved. "Yes, sir. – I have to go now. Fuse out."

I grabbed the name and coordinates he sent us, loaded that up to my own datapad. Then I turned to the rest of the squad. "We move. Now."

Curious to see how this goes. Sana was completely fine with Fuse once he saw the light, so to speak, and tried to fix things, but Vierce is a different animal.

Oh, the minute Vierce and Fuse ended up in the same chamber of my brain...that rant-in-Vierce's-voice started writing itself weeks ago. I haven't yet pinned down the exact timeline/actions.

There are definitely some worthwhile things to consider/express using Fuse. I'm just not sure how it's going to unfold yet.