Ukaita jerked away from Lord Scourge. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked suspiciously, feeling her pulse still racing under her skin.

He smiled slightly. "Don't you trust me?"

Ukaita snorted. "Trust a Sith Lord? I hope I have better sense than that."

He nodded once, "Good. We need you thinking clearly for this to work. Much depends on you."

"Indeed. It's interesting though, that you chose seduction as a test. If I had failed...?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

Lord Scourge shrugged, "That is irrelevant."

"Irrelevant," she said with a slight smile, "right. You know, I am rather good at sense the emotions in others, but you...you are blank. However, that doesn't mean I can't identify male interest when I see it." The large Sith did not meet her eyes. She gathered up the datapad she'd been using and paused in the door. "Did you ever consider remaining loyal to the Emperor once you discovered his plan?"

"No." The statement was succinct, final.

She nodded. "If we are successful there will be a power vacuum. The like of which has not been seen in millenia. We should prepare for it."

"Did you have someone in mind?"

"Well, I always thought I would do well in charge, but then, doesn't every Sith say the same?" she smiled as she left the room. "And I'm bringing my bunny!" she yelled back.

I think I may have a direction for this one. Maybe. Not sure.

<3

Sanju Pyne sat in front of a scrambling terminal readying the day’s dispatches. For the past few months, he had run the Balmorran resistance by pretending to be their leader Gray Star. He was Balmorran by birth, he loved his people and planet, but he felt they were foolish to turn away from what the Empire had to offer. As Gray Star he kept them in check, he destroyed key reconnaissance operations keeping the resistance blind and cautious. It worked, casualties were kept to a minimum but their progress had stalled. He had singlehandedly brought the resistance to a halt, something the Empire had not been able to do in over a decade of fighting, until Selena was killed. He had assigned someone else to survey the valley. He still did not understand why she would take a simple recon mission.

After Selena’s death, the carnage on the Imperial side increased. For two weeks, a string of small, seemingly random yet successful attacks built their way up to a grand finale. First, a small supply outpost robbed, medical stuff, nothing worth reporting to headquarters. Then another outpost was hit, this time mid-sized ordinance. None of the attacks was ordered by him, without time to prepare the strike and run tactics the resistance favored began working again. His handlers told him it was a probably a new element, they would find him in time and stamp him out or he would join the known resistance, Sanju felt uneasy about everything. He asked them to send a report to intelligence to look for patterns, meanwhile the attacks continued. A slave pen freed here, a patrol disrupted there, theft, death, disruption, all too small for the Empire to worry about, then Darth Lachris was killed along with four other Sith.

Sanju put his head in his hands. He thought he knew the person behind the attacks. He knew sending Selena’s body back to taunt the resistance was a mistake. There was only one person with the guts and motivation to go after Lachris, Selena’s daughter Coremi.

The girl had a crush on him once. She was too young for him, but he thought it was cute and tried to be nice to her. She went out of her way to help him when he joined the resistance, and she saved his life once while risking her own, much to her mother’s dismay. He wondered what she would do if she ever found out he was Gray Star.

“Blowback,” Coremi whispered in his ear as she materialized next to him.

Sanju let out a strangled squeak but dove for cover drawing his blaster simultaneously. He had been practicing since he met the agent who helped him become Gray Star. It hardly mattered. Coremi had been practicing since she could walk. She shot the blaster out of his hand and put a bolt through his knee. She grabbed him by his collar and dragged him back onto his chair.

She sliced into his terminals and started downloading everything. Then she turned back to him and leaned against the desk. “Names of the traitors you placed in the resistance.” She said pulling out her datapad so she could take notes.

“There’s no on-” She put her hand on his wounded knee and squeezed. He shrieked and tried to pull away. She let go and waited for him to recover.

“What will you do with them?” He asked angrily when he could speak again, “They’re Balmorran too. They just have different ideas from you, they just want pe-” She inserted her thumb into the gaping hole in his leg she waited until he ran out of breath for screaming then pulled back. He whimpered softly gritting his teeth.

“The Empire offers order and rewards for hard work, loyalty, and dedication.” He continued stubbornly, “We’re Balmorran. We’ve always done more than our share and the Republic abandoned us in favor of ‘more important,’ worlds. They only used us for our factories and out know how, and then they left us here to rot.”

“I don’t care about the Republic or the Empire. Balmorra should be free, Sanju. I wouldn’t care if you and the others were Imperial office clerks, but you decided to sacrifice our people to further the Empire's cause. That makes you a traitor and the same goes for anyone else you put inside our organization. When I’m done here I’m sending out a broadcast telling everyone Gray Star was compromised and there’s a mole in each cell. If you really want to keep the deaths to a minimum, you’ll tell me who they are.”

His eyes widened at what that would do, “But the cells will be torn apart rooting out my people, innocents will die.”

He searched her face trying to convey how terrible that would be for everyone, that it would destroy the resistance, his eyes met a cold yellow implacable stare. “Time to prove that you actually do care about our people.”

He bowed his head until his chin touched his chest but he gave her the names.

“Who helped you replace Gray Star?” She asked when he was finished.

“I don’t know.” He said, when she raised her hand again he continued quickly, “She worked for Imperial Intelligence, she didn’t have a name, she never gave me one. I overheard them calling her a Cipher.”

“Was it Anna?” She named a woman he had brought in a few months ago.

“Yes, but I doubt that was her real name.” She made another note in her datapad and got up. Sanju looked at a little beacon on his desk. It blinked reinforcements would arrive soon. She glanced at the beacon and shut it off.

“They’re already on their way.” He said trying to convey his sympathy, “You won’t escape, but I can help you. They’ll listen to me.” To his surprise, she grinned and spun his chair around so he faced the door. A tall Sith walked into the room.

“I sent back his reinforcements,” the Sith said quietly ignoring Sanju. “but we should not linger. If you are finished here, we should kill him and leave.”

She blew him a kiss a gesture that only made him shake his head as he left the room. She used the scrambling terminal to send a broadcast to the resistance. Then she overloaded the panel so he could not call for help.

“What are you going to do now?” He had believed he could keep her talking long enough to be rescued, now he was terrified.

She looked up at the ceiling, “Remember that time at Troida with that crazy rogue Sith?”

He nodded, remembering his first proving op. He still shook with fear but he tried to keep her talking. “He strapped a countdown bomb to my neck . Your mother ordered everyone out but you snuck back in to save me.”

She smiled at the memory, “One minute to spare, mother had me running message relays for weeks as punishment.” He opened his mouth to thank her again but the words left him when she pulled the bomb out of her pack. “I saved it.” She said with a mad grin and locked the bomb around his neck, setting the timer for five minutes.

“Please, Cori.” He begged.

She leaned over him until their faces were inches apart. “If I had let you die you would not have gotten Gray Star. If I had let you die the resistance would be making progress.” Her voice broke, “If I had let you die my mother would still be alive.”

His shoulders shook as he sobbed. “I never meant for Selena to die.”

“That’s good Sanju,” she said looking into his eyes, “Force willing, you can tell her yourself.” She pressed a button, and the clock began its countdown. She left him in the room to cry alone, no one was coming to save him this time.

Ok, so in my real head cannon, Ardyth is still engaged but decides to pursue a relationship with Quinn anyways, she end up marrying him and killing her betrothed. Ardyth and Quinn have Mitka and Marek and Oriah...Blah blah blah The place where Force of Wills sprang up from. In this AU, Ardyth is a much more honorable person, choosing to stay loyal to her family and her arranged marriage despite her feelings for Quinn, thus rejecting Quinn. Also just to be a jerk, Quinn is a much more loyal and upstanding guy, deciding not to betray Ardyth at the transponder station. AND scene!

Ardyth made her way to the bridge, Quinn had requested a private audience, the last time they had been alone together he had requested a transfer, she had obliged him. It was for the best, he had admitted to having feelings for her that were un professional and inappropriate. Ardyth had signed the transfer gladly, if only because she had developed the same emotions, she hated to see him go, but he was off limits. She was betrothed, she had given her word to Silas, it was an arranged marriage and a contract between two ancient families, but Ardyth did genuinely care for the other Sith, had been excited even at the prospect of marrying him, until she had met Quinn.

They had managed to keep their relationship professional, until a tense moment on Taris where both believed they might die at any moment, and he had declared that he had feelings for her. Not a word was spoken on it again until he had requested the transfer. Why then was he still on her bridge? Because as soon as she had signed the order, a heavy silence had fallen between them. The room had been thick with emotion and unspoken words. She hadn’t been able to turn her eyes away from his, and against both their better judgment he had kissed her, and Ardyth had let him, because she had been weak, and because she had developed feelings for him to.

They were en route to the transponder station Quinn had explained was necessary. When she walked onto the bridge they were still in hyperspace, the stars melded together to give the bridge an eerie yet lovely silver glow. Quinn looked up from his console when she walked in.

“My Lord” He linked his hands behind his back in his customary parade rest.

“Captain Quinn, what can I do for you?” They used their formality as a shield, they kept their distance, yet already her mind filled with memories of their kiss, the passion that had been behind it. She focused her eyes elsewhere; she could not look him in the face.

“My Lord, I must confess something. The transponder station is a ruse, I am not what I seem. I am an agent of Darth Baras, and he has ordered me to kill you.” He paused, as much as he wanted to rush through what he had to say, explain, he needed her to understand.

“Why are you telling me this?” Anger, confusion and suspicion gripped her, her father had taught her to trust no one, and in truth she had suspected he had been a plant from the start, when he begged to enter her service. Somewhere along the way she had begun to trust him, probably around the same time she had started to care about him.

“I cannot in good conscience carry out his orders. He is an impotent scheming sycophant, where you are true power, chosen by the Emperor, it would be folly to rise against you. He is as bad as Broysc was, a mad dog who should be put down, as much as I owe my career to him, I cannot hope to rise against you.” The words came rushing out, though one reason begged to be revealed.

Ardyth nodded, she could kill him, but no harm had been done and by confessing he had foiled yet another one of Baras’s plans, but proved his loyalty to her cause.

“Thank you Captain, for your candor and honesty, it is a rare quality in the Empire. You need not fear any reprisals from Baras, you are under my protection, and Force willing he will be dead soon. Will that be all?” She kept her formality, though she wanted to hug him. He snapped to attention.

“Yes my Lord.” No hint of the emotion she sensed entered his voice, she turned to leave.

“Wait, no, my Lord, there is something else.” He had taken the two steps to close the gap between them, his hand gently gripping her upper arm. His hands were soft, and warm with slight calluses on his ever typing fingers. Ardyth swallowed begging him not to say it with her eyes. “I am falling in love with you, and I believe you are falling in love with me. Am I wrong?” He said it anyways.

Ardyth wanted to lie to him, to tell him he was wrong, but for the look in his eyes, and the nearness of him she couldn’t find it in her to lie, when he had just risked everything for the truth.

“No, you’re not wrong Quinn.” Her voice was quiet, heavy, full of sadness.

He kissed her then, again, and Ardyth let him, again, and his lips were sweet, and his hands were strong, and she wanted nothing more than to melt into him. She pulled away, gently, holding a finger to his lips when he tried to kiss her again, she shook her head.

“Quinn, I can’t. I’m sorry, I love you, I do, but I can’t. I’m engaged, I’ve given my word. I have a duty to my family that I cannot break.” She saw the hurt in his eyes and she reached and brushed her hand to his face, wishing she could kiss him again, forget her duty and her honor and run away with him. He pulled away from her, taking both of her hands in his, kissing the tips of her fingers.

“I understand, my Lord. Forgive me for putting you in this situation.” He gave her hands one last squeeze then let them go. “I will alter our course to Corellia.”

“Quinn I’m sorry.” She whispered, he looked at her and shook his head, pleading with his eyes for her to leave. She nodded, and left the bridge, fighting back tears.

Scourge waited next to a speeder outside Gray Star’s headquarters. The girl had insisted they find and eliminate Gray Star first, she would not allow him to continue to harm her people. He admired her will and focus, he hoped it was good for more than serving the pathetic creatures that lived on this planet. He also needed to think of something to call her.

He mounted the speeder and waited while she settled behind him. When her arms were wrapped firmly around his waist, he set off. At a safe distance, he dismounted and took her hand guiding her to stand in front of him facing the building. “Can you feel his fear, his pain?” he said into her ear, “Reach out with the force and touch it.”

He had never taken an apprentice and had little use for delicate applications of the force; he found he needed physical contact to guide her control. He placed his hands on her shoulders and showed her wordlessly how to reach toward the emotional current generated by the traitor. “What do you feel?” he asked wanting to know how she perceived the force.

“It’s warm and liquid,” she said so softly he leaned forward to hear her, “but thicker than water, more like fresh blood, it flows in circles until it becomes smoke.” She touched her lips as if the force was a physical presence, “It tastes like ash and smells like newly turned earth.” He had not asked her to, but she fed from power without thinking. Through their connection, he felt her pulse quicken and her fatigue ebbed, he smiled behind her, and conveyed his approval. The building rocked as the bomb went off. The fear and pain rose to a crescendo followed by the release of death, she was still open and felt it all. She swayed on her feet. He supported her, allowing her to lean back against him to steady herself.

“Describe death,” he murmured.

“It’s everything,” the awe plain in her voice, “Pain, fear, rage, but also, joy and sorrow, love and lust. He felt everything, then nothing.” She trembled as she absorbed the energy. The shoulders under his hands grew feverishly warm, he marveled at her sensitivity, most Sith could only feel the power released by death. She made a small sound in the back of her throat, it might have been a sob.

Scourge frowned, he wanted her to enjoy this death. Pyne was her enemy, and it would be easier for her to kill with the force if the deaths of her victims brought pleasure. Instead, she mourned. Without thinking, his sent his contempt straight to her heart. Startled, she tore herself from his grasp and moved away before facing him. He sensed her anger and confusion, but saw no reason to apologize. Her grief only weakened her and he had no use for weakness.

They stared at each other in silence, each having discovered something new and distasteful about the other. Her expression displayed something he had not expected, not exactly surprise, there was too much pain in it. He reached out with his senses again. She felt betrayed, as if he was not as he first seemed. It amused him that she would think there was a kinder nobler soul under his Sith skin that he hid from the galaxy, his expression turned mocking. He would have ridiculed her for her childish fantasies but before he could speak, she bolted. Instinctively, she moved into a force-assisted sprint with the power she absorbed from the traitor’s death, she was fifty meters away within seconds. When he moved to follow her, she activated her stealth generator and disappeared.

Scourge sighed, beginning to realize the monumental task he now faced. Nevertheless, he was impressed. She was a fast learner, and a very fast runner.

I’ve set off some ‘internal monologue’—or to be more accurate, dialog sections in italics. Rixik is not a multiple-personality nutjob, and I hope he doesn’t come across that way. I wanted to set apart his more ‘normal’, ultra-pragmatic thoughts from the strange (for him) new feelings he has for Kirya.

“Good-looking group; your suggested price is in line. Will advise when sales finalized, D. Leegstra.”

Rixik deleted the message and reclined in the chair at the computer station. He ought to be happy. Leegstra would launder his latest acquisitions and transfer the credits. Easy money. So why wasn’t he happy?

Rixik kneaded the bridge of his nose. Because it would make her unhappy, that’s why.

He heard her in the other room, the only other room in their tiny apartment. Holonet on, arranging stuff. Normal, everyday things.

This is stupid. You should just dump her. Be better, safer. She’s outlived her usefulness. You don’t need her anymore. Haven’t in months, really. Except—

Except he didn’t want to leave her.

It would make her unhappy. He didn’t want her to be unhappy. And he didn’t want to leave her.

He dropped his hands to his sides, letting them hang limp. Well, quite the tight spot you’ve gotten yourself into, isn’t it? When she figures out what you pulled on her, what’s still going on, she’ll be pissed and kick you out. Or you can leave, and she’ll be pissed about that instead. Either way, she’s going to be pissed and unhappy. You don’t get to be with her anymore. Deal with it.

Rixik sighed. He wanted to be with her. He didn’t want to deal with it. He didn’t want to hurt her. More than that, he didn’t want Kirya to hate him—and she would, no doubt about it. He didn’t want to see that look. You know, that one, the disapproving one, with the little v-shaped crease between her eyebrows and the lekku movements saying ‘you are complete scum.’

What the hell happened to not caring about anyone else? No one looks out for Rixik but Rixik, remember? Worked just fine so far. So much easier that way. Everyone else is just a potential mark. Rule number one with any con: ‘don’t sympathize with the mark’. Sure, you tell them what they what to hear because you’re taking advantage of them. Sympathy on their part helps. But you having any sort of real empathy for them just complicates matters.

It gets you into this kind of position.

Rixik sat up and hunched over the desk. He was deep in uncharted space as far as he was concerned. Without a nav beacon or, hell even a ship.

To continue your idiotic analogy, you do know that investigating unmapped hyperlanes is a great way to get killed? Stick with what works. Dump her now, get the hell out.

Rixik shook his head, silencing the internal debate. Deal with it. Alright, fine, I’ll deal with it. He stood and crossed the room to the bed. A pocket, inside an old jumpsuit, buried under other clothes. He pulled it open and rummaged through a selection of datacards. There, down on the bottom of the pile. Selecting three, he walked to the door. His hand hesitated a bit over the controller, then he pressed it. “Kirya, we have to talk.”

Kirya turned. The lights from nighttime traffic passing by outside their window strobed on her skin. Pale green, dark green, pale green. His heart skipped a beat at her smile, her pretty smile for him. But it evaporated and she set down the glass in her hand, “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Oh, nothing, you go on, dear. “It…it’s about the slaves,” he said. No more smile. It hurt, seeing it gone. Knowing he took it from her.

Kirya’s brow furrowed. Not the look. Not yet. “Oh no, did they send out retrievers already? Did they get captured?”

Yes, that’s exactly what happened. I’m so sorry. “No.” He moved to the ugly purple chair that came with the apartment and sat down. Went the long way around. Wanted to be close to her but couldn’t bear to go that way.

“Then what?” Kirya took a seat on the matching couch. Her fingers brushed his arm, seeking a reassuring touch.

“Leegstra has them,” he said, staring at his hands. What the hell are you doing?

“Leegstra?” She asked. There was a strained note in her voice, “I don’t understand. How did Leegstra get a hold of them? That doesn’t make sense.”

You are insane. You do know that, right? “I…sent them on consignment.”

“On consign…why would you do that?”

“Because that’s what I’ve done with all of them from the beginning, Kirya. But I can’t do it anymore.” Disappearing would have been easier, idiot. He squeezed his eyes shut. There would be the look now. He didn’t want to see it.

“From the begin…all of…” Kirya’s voice trailed off. He heard the rustle of her clothing as she stood and paced the room, “Why?” she cried.

The single word struck his ears like a blow. “Easy credits. But I can’t anymore.”

“Why?” she cried again, “How could you?”

You are so on your own. Rixik shrugged, “They were…just slaves.”

She closed the distance and slapped his face hard. He stopped the return blow at his shoulder; the one that was so automatic he didn’t even realize he started to throw it. Show no weakness, never back down. But he loved her and the rules were different between them.

“Never say that again. Slaves are people. I hate it!” Kirya shrilled, “All this time, and you were selling them anyway.”

The side of Rixik’s face burned, and he could taste blood in his mouth. He opened his eyes, finally. Kirya stood on the far side of the room now, facing away, staring out the window. “It’s…Kirya, hating slavery is like hating gravity or, or vacuum. It’s pointless.”

Kirya turned slightly. Just enough so he could see her face. The look and tears. “If you believe that, why did you marry me?” she said, her voice quiet.

“Because…” Rixik swallowed hard. Her one blow didn’t hurt near enough. Didn’t make up for the pain he gave her. Was still giving. “Because I wanted into your Dad’s security, and it was easy for a family member. Had you pegged for a spoiled rich kid spouting rhetoric just to make daddy mad. I was wrong, but I didn’t know it then.” Next step, sleeping in a crate on an exhaust vent. Honesty pays, yes it does.

Kirya sniffed, “Why are you telling me this now? I mean all of this.”

“Because I love you, Kirya,” he said, “and I can’t lie to you anymore.”

“Oh, and I’m supposed to believe you, huh?” she yelled. “After all the lies? What game are you playing now, Jesp?”

“No games. I swear.”

“Get out of my house. Get out now,” she snarled.

Rixik stood. He walked quietly to the kitchenette and left her the three datacards. Lined them up on the rancid countertop. One was the backup of the accounts. All the accounts. Even the secret ones, the ones she didn’t know about.

One was his old file. The one before Sal took his old name and gave him a new one.

One was the feed off strategically placed button cams in a particular retreat belonging to the wife of the vice-administrator of the Sevarcos II penal colony. The one he would never sell. The rest—and there were still a few left—were just an emergency credit supply. Disturbing the price new vids from that scandal commanded, even now, years later.

He palmed open the outside door and left. Crossed the hall, turned, slumped against the wall, and slid to the grimy floor. Really ought to go claim that crate and exhaust vent now. There’s going to be competition from the other bums.

Shut up.

What? You’re the one wanted to go all honest-Jedi on her. What did you expect? Oh, honey, I love you anyway, come give me a kiss? She’s not opening that door for you. Ever.

Shut up.

Well, maybe to tell security where you are. Really stupid, leaving those datacards. Not to mention the other ones back in the bedroom. Brilliant. You got nothing and nowhere to go. Do something smart. Find a public terminal and at least salvage some credits.

She said get out. Not go away.

There’s a difference?

Maybe.

Moron.

Rixik waited. Propped his arms on his knees and dropped his head down. There were no windows in the tenement halls and only indifferent, perpetual lighting. Beings left. Beings came home. A few drunks and spiceheads came in, rebounding off the walls, staggering toward their destinations. Crowded for a bit, must be morning. Stepping over him, around him, ignoring him. Later some kid tried to pickpocket him and jumped two meters when he moved. Sprinted off down the hall to the lift.

Sometime after the morning crowd meandered home the door to Kirya’s apartment opened. His head jerked up immediately. She was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Her eyes were puffy but dry. And she still had the look. “Can you get them back?”

“What?” his voice felt rusty, like he hadn’t used it in years.

“The people you sent to Leegstra. Can you get them back?”

“I—“ brain engaging. Still confused, “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Get them back,” Kirya ordered.

“Uh…” maybe Leegstra hasn’t sold them all yet. Probably not. He usually took a week or better for Rixik’s consignments, “can I use your holoterminal?”

“I’m watching the call,” she said. No request. Statement of fact.

He didn’t want her to watch. Didn’t want her to see that face, that mask. He wasn’t even sure which face was a mask anymore. “You…won’t be happy.”

“I’m already not happy. You’re not lying your way out of this one. Telling me they’re already sold off and you can’t get them back.”

Ouch. Rixik unfolded himself and stood stiffly. “Okay,” he agreed.

She let him in the apartment. It was eerily unchanged. Still the hideous furniture, the countertops that never came clean, the battered shades over dirty windows, the carpet in some indeterminate shade of ick. Somehow he expected it to look different. Less like home.

The datacards were no longer on the counter.

Rixik headed over to the small holoterminal. He took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to see this.”

“Tough,” Kirya snapped.

“I don’t like this person.”

“Too bad. Call him anyway.”

Not Leegstra, Kirya, the person I have to be to talk to Leegstra. Kirya stood off to the side, arms akimbo, out of the terminal’s capture range. Rixik contacted Leegstra’s holofrequency.

Leegstra’s secretary picked up. Human male. No clunky shock collar for Leegstra’s personal assistant; he wore a slim silver band around his neck. Easily mistaken for jewelry. Except that it wasn’t. “Master Leegstra is in a conference right now. You may leave a message.”

“Lemme talk to him,” Rixik said.

“Sorry, it is a very important conference. You may leave a message.”

“I’m Jesp Rixik. Leegstra’s got a consignment from me. We’ve done a lot of business together and unless you want your master to lose all chance at future business with me you better get him on this holo in two minutes.”

The man blanched, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Smart move,” said Rixik. The Human left the terminal but the channel remained open. Rixik stared at the non-picture. It was better than looking at Kirya. Had to be better than seeing her face right now.

The call transferred in much less than two minutes. Leegstra filled the holoprojection; an obese male Twi’lek reaching Huttlike proportions, “Rixik, my friend, you tight up for credits or something? You know it takes some time to find the right buyers for a lot of that caliber. Hate to let them go cheap just because you need to move ‘em fast. You want an advance against the sale?”

“No, it’s not that at all. Gotta cancel the consignment.”

“What?”

“Buyer contacted me. Wants the whole lot. Something about staffing a summer house complete.” Scary how easily he could slip into this old shoe of a role. Even when he knew it stank.

“Who?” Leegstra asked, “Send your buyer to me. You make credits, I make credits, client gets his merchandise, everyone happy.”

“He won’t deal with you, Leegstra,” Rixik managed a pained look, “You don’t have the greatest reputation in some circles, if you know what I mean.”

“And yours is so stellar.”

“Lower profile.”

“This isn’t like you, Rixik. You trying to muscle in on my business?”

“Hardly.” Funny. That was true. “Just hold them for a few days while I settle everything.”

Leegstra frowned, “I’m not boarding your property without compensation. And you’ll still owe the contract cancellation fee.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. That’s 200 credits per head per day, plus 1% estimated sale value.”

“Try 500 per day and 3%,” Leegstra groused.

“I read the contract, Leegstra. Some people do that. Don’t take me for a fool.”

“Early cancellation service charge.”

“You wanna take this up with the Hutts? Really?” Rixik leaned in toward the fat Twi’lek in the viewer, “Because I don’t think you want them going over your books, Leegstra.”

Leegstra growled a curse, “Fine. Better come get them quick, they’re taking up valuable space.”

“Pleasure, Leegstra. See you soon,” Rixik closed the channel. He still couldn’t bear to look at Kirya.

She spoke first, “I’m not sure whether I should be pleased or horrified at that performance. You just lie to everyone, don’t you?”

He forced himself to meet her eyes, “Not to you. Never to you anymore.”

“Right.”

Silence settled in, only the wheeze of the overworked air recirculator filled the space. “So, what do you plan to do with them?” Rixik asked, “After you put together the fees and all.”

“Let them go,” Kirya replied.

“Just like that?” Rixik asked. She wasn’t serious, surely.

“A quick fix on the records and they’re not slaves anymore,” Kirya frowned at him, “A lot less trouble than you went to.”

So she did look at the datacards. “Look, Kirya, that’s great and all, but just setting someone free doesn’t make them free. It’s a lot more complicated. Your father raised slaves; I think you understand that on some level. Not everyone adjusts, not everyone wants to.”

“You did.”

Rixik stood quiet for a moment. Blinking. “Are you seriously suggesting I’m the shining example for successful transition to a free life?”

Kirya snorted. Might have been humorous; her mood was scary hard to read right now. “Point taken. Why do you care, anyway?”

Good question. “Kirya,” he began, “I know you aren’t going to want to hear this, but turning those people loose on the streets is the worst thing you could do for them, free or not. If you really want to do this, then do it right.”

“You didn’t answer me, Jesp. Why do you care?”

Safe answer or true answer? “I am a fundamentally selfish person, Kirya,” he admitted, “But I love you. If it means I get to be with you, I’ll fight gravity.”

“Pretty words,” Kirya said.

“Let me prove them,” he took a hesitant step toward her.

She backed away, “Don’t. Not yet. Just…” she turned back to the window, “I don’t trust you. Not yet. Maybe after we help the people you sent to Leegstra.”

“Okay.”

Kirya crossed the room to the opposite door, “Stay out of the bedroom,” she said, closing the door behind her.

Rixik eased himself down onto the bruise-colored couch. We. Yet. Maybe. He’d bet on worse odds.

And lost on better.

It’s still a chance.

You’ll never see that smile again, you know. That was the smile of a woman who doesn’t know better yet.

It’s my fault. I stole it from her. I’ll take Kirya with a wiser smile over no Kirya at all.

…She’s too young for you.

Ha. Too late. That was a selling point a few months back. Can’t have it both ways.

You’re hopeless.

Not anymore.

Coremi lay on her back under some brush near the road. When she stopped running, the pain of misused muscles, abused bones, and incorrectly channeled force caught up with her.

“I got them mother.” She looked up at the sky trying to ignore the lower half of her body, “Can I stop fighting now?” The sky failed to answer, and even if it could, she had a feeling it would say no.

She thought about Sanju and wondered if every death felt that way. He hated her when he died. Shame colored her cheeks at how obvious her crush had been. She fell in love with everyone, but she could not help herself with Sanju. He was gentle and kind but hopeless when it came to fighting. She thought saving him would prove she was an adult, and worthy of his affection. When he disappeared she spent every spare moment searching for him until her mother ordered her to stop, then she cried for a week believing him dead.

The Sith was Sanju’s opposite, cold, harsh, and alien. Yet he stirred the same feelings, the need for closeness, understanding, and approval. ‘Daddy replacements’ is what Chemish would call them, phrasing it that way to sound distasteful, hoping it would be a deterrent. Chemish never liked Sanju, and she would hate the Sith, she was probably right about both.

Her comm beeped. She checked the area with eyes, ears, and painfully raw force senses. Finding herself alone, she crawled to a rocky outcropping shielded from the road. Propping herself up against a boulder, she turned off her stealth generator, and answered.

“Cori,” an angry man’s face appeared. “What’s this about Gray Star being a traitor?”

“Gray Star was compromised, his replacement was a traitor.” She corrected, “Cripes, Kord, who taught you how to decrypt a transmission?”

“Are you alright?” Chemish asked pushing the man aside.

“Sure,” she lied not wanting to explain her situation, “Did you get the list?”

“Those names you gave us,” a voice spoke from off camera, “We have doubts.” The voice belonged to Rolan, the son of her former nanny.

“It’s what I got,” she shrugged, “once word gets out Gray Star was killed, I’m betting the people on that list disappear.”

“Was it really Sanju?” Chemish asked carefully.

“Crying, sobbing and begging for his life.” She tried to make her voice hard like Chemish’s, but she only managed to sound miserable.

“You should have brought him in,” a different voice scolded. It belonged to Ardon, another cell leader. She tallied the voices and the people she could see on her comm. They were having a big meeting.

“Hey so does this gathering have a purpose other than creating a convenient target for the Imps and yelling at me?” She snapped.

Chemish spoke before the others could start arguing, “Gray Star knew everything about us, Cori. We’re going to split up and rebuild while the Imps are fighting each other for power.”

Coremi frowned at that, they should press their advantage while the Imps were disorganized. Anyone the Empire brought in to rule Balmorra now would be worse than Lachris. She would make her case when she saw them, “I have data for you, give me the coordinates, I’ll come in.” Her words were met with an uneasy silence.

“There’s a Sith hunting you.” Chemish said finally, “We can’t bring you in.”

Coremi bit her lip, he already found her, but she could not tell them that. She hesitated, “Ever?”

“Our man at Sobrik told Brok the news, the one who’s after you is a real heavy hitter. I don’t think he’ll give up.” Chemish fidgeted nervously, “You should keep moving, get off planet if you can.”

“We appreciate everything you’ve done, Cori.” Rolan said gently, “But our numbers have dwindled we can’t afford to lose more people. I’m sorry.”

“Where’s Doc?” she asked trying not to sound desperate. Doc always stood up for her, and though he was not a leader, their need for his skills gave his words weight.

“He’s with us now.” Kord replied not bothering to be gentle, “I’m sending you drop coordinates so you can get us the data. Don’t wait around hoping to talk to someone, we’re going to leave it for a week to let your trail age.”

The transmission ended. She stared at the coordinates, a dangerous swamp full of poison lakes and ravenous Zeldrates. Without the proper equipment either the wildlife would kill her or the air would, perhaps they hoped the Sith would perish trying to find her corpse. She leaned against the rocky shelf, torn between laughter and tears.