It wasn’t right.

Sha’ra’zaed lay quiet, Vector beside her. Sleeping. He’d proposed, she’d not said no. Not said yes, either, but actions afterward implied acceptance. She’d always been good at that. Implying one thing but intending another. Why couldn't she tell him no and be done?

Because she had to leave a door open in case she might need it later, that’s why.

Vector loved the face she chose to show him. And she chose it because she knew he would. Same as she did for Kaliyo, for Temple, for Lokin, for Keeper, for the Minister, even SCORPIO. That’s what she did. Always. No one saw her true face. She didn’t have a face, just an endless series of masks, each one crafted to elicit compliance from whomever the job required. So second nature she never questioned it, never turned it off, even among friends.

Friends. What friends? She didn’t have friends. Just doors. Doors left open in case she needed them later. Her thoughts turned to the comb with its damning little card, buried deep in a drawer. Remember who you are. She wasn’t anyone. Not anymore. Just a mannequin with replaceable faces and clothes.

She did not love the Empire, especially not after the Castellan restraint debacle. But it was another door. She was still welcome there. Hailed, if only in the shadowy halls of Intelligence The Ascendancy was open again to her, thanks to Aristocra Saganu. The Aristocra had yet to cash in on his connection with her. It was only a matter of time. That door swung both ways. It had to stay open.

So why was it so hard to tell Vector a straight no? It should be easy. Vector wasn’t Chiss. He wasn’t altogether Human either. He was mostly Killik. He didn’t understand lies or deception and she knew that. He’d called her circuitous and said it with a smile, as though it were simply part of her, like her hair or her eyes. Surely he’d appreciate a straight answer for once.

Which was more valuable, his continued goodwill and cooperation, or honesty?

Why was it so hard to choose? Just this one time, why was it so hard to choose?

This close their auras merged. The distinct patterns in his own flowing seamlessly into hers. Blue with silver highlights filled with shards of ambiguity, the scent of a spring orchard touched by frost.

When would she remember he always saw her? Behind all the other faces, behind all the people she could be. Always knew the meaning behind her words, and loved her anyway?

They survived infiltrating the core of the Sith Empire and they found the evidence they needed in Kaas City. The Emperor lived. Everyone and everything was in danger once again and yet, that was not the foremost thought on Scourge's mind. He could feel, not fully but something, and it did not hurt, not much, because of her.

He turned to the woman asleep beside him. Her face was so familiar yet he had never seen her this way; peaceful, vulnerable, with him. She woke and peered at him through half-closed eyes. She smiled and he let go of the breath he had not realized he had been holding.

"Hi," she said shyly.

"Hello." He replied still studying her expression for any sign of regret.

"Am I dreaming?"

He raised a browridge at the suggestion. "Have you dreamed this before?"

She blushed and looked away. "Maybe."

He pulled her closer chuckling with both amusement and relief. She rested her head against his chest. "You are not dreaming."

"If you're part of my dream, how would you know?" Came the muffled reply.

He tilted her face back and kissed her forehead, then her eyes, then her lips. He pulled away just enough to say, "If this is a dream, then it is mine."

"Let's not wake up." She whispered against his lips.

"As you wish."

Ajacksa glanced down at the datapad in her hand. The cantina. Right. She looked up as a bouncer literally booted a man out the door. More than a couple eyes followed her as she walked into the building. She threw a glare at a couple faint whistles from the motley crew at the tables as her heart pounded. She'd thought Coruscant's lower levels were dangerous, but they were tame compared to this. Crime happened there, but here...crime lived here. It breathed, grew like some crazed beast fed with credits and power. She tucked one hand casually into a loop on her belt, tightening her grip to stop the shaking.

To do list for today:

1. Don't get killed.

2. Don't get raped.

3. Get better armor.

4. Convince Braden that you're a real bounty hunter.

She walked into the room listed on the datapad to find three people already inside. One of them, a slim girl probably no older than herself spotted her. "Hey now."

Here goes nothing.

Braden turned around and smiled wide. "The main attraction has arrived. Team, this is the girl we're pinning all our hopes on. Best shot I've ever seen and nerves of steel. She's Great Hunt material, all right. What do you say, hunter, ready to meet your team?"

Pinning all our hopes? Great Hunt material? She focused on breathing through her nose. Slowly. So she wouldn't hyperventilate. Kept that icy stare going. Looked around the room as Braden made the intros. The girl, Mako, looked...nice. The Nikto, Jory, was a little intimidating, but he just waved benevolently and went back to cleaning his guns at the table. Braden seemed just as excited and straightforward as he had when she'd met him the first time. She kept watching for some sign that she was dealing with violent criminals, but they all seemed, well, decent. She felt her chest loosen a little.

"Nice to meet you all," she said, thanking the stars for what was starting to look like a bit of good luck.

Braden's smile showed off a lifetime of lines on his face. He'd surivived this life. She could too. He nodded in approval at the team. "Alright, enough introductions, let's get down to business. We're here because the Great Hunt has been called."

She kept her face blank. Best line of defense when you have no idea what a person is talking about. It worked when Galla and her friends were talking about the newest spice on the market; she hoped it would work now.

"Little Mako is the most rabid fan of hunter history this side of Geonosis, and even she doesn't know what the Great Hunt entails."

The slicer rattled off the names of some of the Great Hunt winners while Jack tried to figure out just what she'd gotten herself into...what kind of name was Bloodworthy?

Braden continued on: "Every bounty hunter who's won a Great Hunt has gone on to massive glory and riches, which is why we're here."

Glory? The last thing she needed was glory. This could ruin everything. Breathing. That thing where air goes in and out of your lungs. She could do this.

"You can keep your glory, I just want to be rich," she said, smiling tightly. They grinned back. Good. Believable.

As Mako continued to explain the Hunt, Jack realized just how big of a mess she was in. And there was nothing she could do about it. It had taken the last of her credits to change her eye color and ship out to Hutta. And what would she go back to? She looked around the room. This was a shot at survival.

She took a deep breath and put some extra steel into her eyes to keep the fear from creeping out. "You give me a target, and I'll take it down hard."

To do list for today:

1. Don't get killed.

2. Don't get raped.

3. Get better armor.

4. Convince Braden that you're a real bounty hunter.

One done, three to go.

Wynston stayed still when he woke. Inventory: unclothed, well rested, feeling fine; surroundings, the nondescript hotel room in Kaas City where he stayed any time he had non-Intelligence business to do at odd hours, comfortable bedding, the noise of the city reasonably muted; vibroknife still within arm's reach in the bedframe; a faint lingering smell of sex, but apart from him the place was empty. This was as expected. The young woman had said goodbye first.

He sat up and stretched. Lovely girl. Naïve, to put it lightly, and probably not destined to live long on Dromund Kaas, but she'd been pleasant company. And a genuine, good-natured help the day before. He dismissed the thought and stood. The motion accidentally kicked free the underwear she had thrown at him last night in a fit of pretend pique. Pretend pique from a Sith: it really shouldn't be this painless. Wynston smiled, swept up the scrap of cloth, and threw it out on his way to the refresher. One good day. Estimated likelihood of ever seeing her again, close to zero.

Wash up, then it was time to leave this room as empty as he'd found it and go to work.

Ruth couldn't believe she just did that.

The "Sith take what they want" thing was something she didn't tend to act on when it came to sex, no matter how tempting. It was just that this stranger Darnek had been friendly and attentive and sweet and funny and – was that even normal? The politics of sex on Korriban – darkly interesting, sometimes terribly tempting, rarely hazarded – didn't really have a place or explanation for Force-blinds walking up and introducing themselves.

She couldn't believe she just did that.

Less than a week off Korriban and this was what she did when she got back to home territory. This wasn't being an adult, this was, this was…

Fun. Probably nothing to repeat, but fun.

She was right to run out after, though. No matter what the circumstances, falling asleep around a near-stranger was a bad idea. At least the parting of ways wasn't "him dropping out of sight to probably plot her murder," like with most boys who didn't call back after a date on Korriban.

Fun. She'd spent a whole evening with a Force-blind, an alien, someone older and easygoing and charming and more interested in dancing than in power plays. Someone who made her feel good about something other than her combat prowess. And who was more than capable of reminding her of why she took these risks with anybody in the first place. A novelty multiple ways at once. How one thing had led to another that quickly, that comfortably, she didn't know. Once or twice she'd even forgotten to keep an eye on ways to defend herself. It really shouldn't be this painless.

Ruth shook herself. She had work to do. Sith Apprentice. Grr. Lying around all day daydreaming (about someone who would likely be endangered just by knowing her, no less) was exactly not what she was supposed to be doing.

She hummed a cheerful tune and went about preparing for the day.

This would be the…second?...Dromund Kaas-during-class-line scene I've written for Ruth. Ever. Huh.

I never really got around to considering Ruth's sex life outside the context of longer relationships. I suspect most of the exploration/risks were taken in her teens on Dromund Kaas and then on Korriban. After graduation, no matter how much she likes the act, she'd probably better err on the side of caution. Because keeping a continuous background brain process of 'what might kill me in this scenario' does tend to sap the fun, at least for some personality types.

Gingerly, he lifted the hem of his t-shirt. Grey fabric gave way to pale, soft skin. He trembled and jerked at his reflection: a black bar stamped into his stomach, little green lights flickering against the metal.

It wasn't real. It was fake. It had to be.

The thing was warm to touch and it moved, a hard lump that dug into his belly. A small, surgical scar ran under the bar, red points sticking out from either side, like the legs of some alien parasite.

He wanted to get up and run. Run away from the tiny, blank walled room. Run away from the hum that kept him awake and night and the sound of footsteps just outside his door. Run away from the crawling skin and the metal, creeping underneath and inside him, filling him up with fake poison and turning him into a thing. He wanted to move, to at least leave the bed but his legs... His legs were present, still fully attached to his body. He could feel them - feel hot and cold, pressure and pain - but they only twitched when he wanted to move.

There was something that itched along his spine and it too was hard to the touch. More cybernetics: bits of metal and plastic jammed into a dying body to make breathe again. His fingers curled around the bed sheet as he just thought of how much he wanted to die. What was the point of living as this half-made, half-saved, crippled abomination? Why live as something that heard through metal ears, that ate using a metal stomach and could not even walk?

He felt weak and dizzy. He put his head in his hands and felt those damned metal prongs poke against his flesh. He knew - what a terrible, sickening knowledge - that somehow those blocks in his ears went further into his head. That metal and wiring was boring into his brain and trying to fight this spinning. He wanted nothing more than to spiral down into the darkness and be rid of that ever-present light, that eternal humming and the blasphemy that he had now become.

He dug his fingers into his scalp as the spinning worsened. The pain brought a clarity he had not known before. Trembling, he leant back, supporting himself on one arm. With the other, he pressed against the black bar, taking its measure. The scar was still new, still fresh. There was a tear and a pop. Pain hit him like a blow. The city lights came back, their flashing neon blinding him. The stench of fried, overcooked meat made him wretch and the noise... he was deafened. He looked down, seeing a strange mixture of bed and city street. There was blood on his hand. It ran downs his legs and soaked the bed sheet, before pooling into the gutter and running of toward...

Stars, no.

He screamed and his eyes screwed shut. His back was pressed against the bed, heavy weights on his arms, pinning him in place. Something held his head down as he thrashed and fought. There was a pressure against his collar. It gave way easily and calmness flowed into his veins. Crying and shaking, he drifted into an uneasy, warm darkness, trying to think of anything but that.

“Urgh…” Lilith was holding her head as she tried to focus her vision on the mug in front of her. It was still pounding and her stomach was upside-down from the evening before. “Never go to a cantina with a Rattataki. Ever.” she told to no one in particular.

“Hey, you should have just said that you are a light weight” came a reply from her right as Kaliyo sat on the chair next to her. She seemed almost fine although Lilith could not tell with certainty through the blur that was still governing her eyes.

“Sod off. That was some sort of poison you handed me last night…”

“No it wasn’t. It was among the best Flameout I had in a while.” Kaliyo replied

“Does it always feel like you had a rancor sit on you?”

“Nah. Sometimes you may have the rancor sit on you, swallow you whole and then push you out its rear end”

Lilith had to repress whatever was left of her stomach from coming out “Thanks, Kaliyo. That made me feel a lot better.”

“Well, at least you won’t be ending up like the other imp”. Kaliyo looked at Lilith and grinned. They looked at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing as specific memories of the previous night flooded back in their minds.

“What did you put in his drink?” asked Lilith, wiping the tears from her eyes from laughing too much

“Just a little something to ease the pain...”

“Pain?”

“Hey, that guy had a pole so far up his behind that it must have hurt to sit down...he was stiff but all in the wrong places” They both started laughing again.

“He must have had one heck of a trip” Kaliyo continued “At least he had fun for once in his life...and to think he was trying to patronise you on how to behave” she contorted her face trying to imitate what she had seen “I believe this is not the proper behaviour for an imperial officer” she said with a mocking tone.

“What was his name anyway? Do you remember?” asked Lilith

“I don't know...some captain Quincy...Queen...Quinn...whatever....I'll just settle for captain queer” Kaliyo chuckled

Lilith started laughing again

“I just wonder what the heck he was doing in a cantina. He certainly looked out of his element”

“He must have been lost. And I bet he's not going to laugh if he sees the video shot by his friends”

Lilith looked up at Kaliyo “Friends?”

“Ye, you did not see them, you were passed out already. A Twi'lek and a rather interesting imp boy who couldn't stop grinning while watching the good'ol captain laughing to himself, high on giggledust..”

“Oh, on the prowl, I see. How was he interesting? I thought you didn't like imperials”

Kaliyo looked at her with a mischievous grin “Don't you worry, agent, or you'll make bugboy jealous. You just get yourself a good day of rest while I get to know the captain's friend” she said, winking. She then stood and walked towards the exit.

“Have fun” Lilith said

“I always have fun and you know it” Kaliyo shot back as she left the hall leaving the agent to sober up.

Today it was different.

When someone entered a slave into the pits, it was usually to test them, to see if they were worth investing time and resources into. Some, like Kouhun, didn’t need testing; if you think a muscular seven foot Rattataki isn’t going to succeed in the slave fights, you may be a few bolts short of a droid. Others weren’t so obvious. Once he had witnessed a fight between a diminutive Jawa and an unwashed Dug. The crowd went crazy for the unlikely opponents, eager to see two evidently inferior species attempt to kill one another. The Jawa had prevailed by skittering away whenever the Dug lunged, eventually tiring him out enough for the Jawa to kill him with a well-placed rock blow.

Killing in the pits was permitted; Kouhun was usually the only one who left survivors alive, at least barely.

But today, it was different.

Before even sizing up his opponent he knew he couldn’t kill it. There wasn’t a chance in the galaxy of that happening.

This unbeatable enemy wasn’t a rancor or a nexu, nor a wampa or a krayt dragon; it was a short pathetic Sullustan. Judging by corrupted audience’s wild cheering, it was obvious they knew the same thing he did. This slave had been sent into the pit for the sole purpose of dying to amuse the crowd’s thirst for blood and to save some evil man’s credits that could be wasted on food or clothes for the slave.

Many of the galaxy’s species resided in the stands today. Nikto, Hutt, Human, he even spotted other Rattataki. All were present to see the blood of the innocent stain the ground of the arena. All disgusted him.

“Go on, gettum kid!” his master slapped the hulking alien hard on the back.

Kouhun ground his teeth together angrily. His damnable master had referred to him as nothing but ‘kid’ since he had been bought six months ago.

“I don’t hurt weaklings.” Kouhun replied calmly, readying himself for another blow or worse.

“You hurt who I tell you or you lose a foot.” his owner spat back, placing his hand on a vibrowhip located on his belt.

Kouhun did not know the name of his owner. Although dirty and vile, the man was not stupid. All business and deals were conducted out of earshot of the slaves, and he had never witnessed any personal interaction either that could’ve let the information slip. The man had threatened amputation before and Kouhun knew from paying attention to other slaves that he wasn’t bluffing.

It appeared it was time, Kouhun thought serenely. He had, of course, considered escape before. The truth was that he never had a good reason to try to escape, for all he had was his name and his mind, and they were here with him. The Sullustan on his knees across the arena changed that. Oblivious to the frustrated screams of his master and the impatient shouts of the crowd, Kouhun drove his thick elbow back, catching his owner in the jaw and sending him careening to the dirt.

Spinning quickly, the large alien delivered a roundhouse kick to the man’s already broken jaw, knocking him out and possibly causing spinal injury. Kouhun moved quickly despite his bulk to swipe his shock collar remote and the vibrowhip from his master’s person, even as the crowd hooted excitedly at this unexpected development and the guard droids owned by his master started making a beeline towards him.

The former math teacher took a deep breath and began a quick sprint across the fifty yard long arena. Grabbing the confused Sullustan by the scruff of the neck as he passed, Kouhun then launched himself at the ten-foot wall separating the top of the arena to the bottom of the stands.

As his hands barely reached the edge of the wall, Kouhun’s heart soared. His calculations had been correct! Perhaps math could be useful in the slave pits after all. No angry hands swatted at his meaty gloves as Kouhun pulled himself up into the lower stands; the cowardly crooks had fled at the first sign that they might be injured.

Dodging poorly aimed shots from the cheap guard droids still in the pit, the Rattataki weaved up into the crowds, the criminals in attendance hastily jumping or running in either direction from his path. Leaping towards the unguarded exit with his Sullustan cargo still tightly gripped in his left hand, Kouhun contemplated the possibility that he might actually escape.

His hopes evaporated when he ran onto the large taxi launch pad and saw hundreds of speeders in various types and colors, most of them guarded. He had no experience with hotwiring speeders. He was a teacher.

Kouhun sank to his knees and subconsciously released the iron grip he had on the rescued Sullustan. Terrified and confused, the poor excuse for a sentient scampered away in fright. How had Kouhun thought he was going to get out of there? Rattataki weren’t known for their flying skills. His sadness transformed into anger in the blink of an eye.

Screaming loudly, Kouhun approached a green droid resembling an R2 unit strapped onto a pair of legs that was guarding an orange Coruscanti air speeder. The once gentle giant ripped it in two before it started reaching for the short vibrosword affixed to its back. The droid’s counterpart got off one ineffective blow before meeting a similar fate.

Seething among his destruction, Kouhun heard footsteps approaching. A representative of his now former master coming to retrieve or kill him? But surely he would send more than one. Perhaps his ex-owner underestimated him. Well, he wouldn’t go out without a fight. Summoning his sorrow and rage, Kouhun spun around to deliver justice and ended up stomach-to-face with the Sullustan he had rescued minutes before.

“Uh, hey, want to get out of this place?” the short alien squeaked out.

His anger evaporating, the Rattataki raised an eyebrow at the diminutive life-form.

“You are capable of driving a speeder?” Kouhun probed calmly.

“Oh, more than that, I could jack that piece behind you in five seconds flat!” the Sullustan replied in a less squeaky tone, his fear disappearing with Kouhun’s anger.

“What’s your name, kid?” Kouhun inquired, curious.

“Rizantos, but my friends call me Rizz. At least, they did.” His new companion replied in a depressed tone as he carefully stepped past the Rattataki towards the air speeder.

Kouhun watched in a wondrous stupor as Rizz delivered on his promise, and they were in the air heading for the Nar Shaadda spaceport a minute later.

There were lights and fumes and screams and speeders, and then Kouhun thought that maybe perhaps things were looking up after all.

Hope, his name and his mind were all he had.

At least for now.

I don't know what I'm going to do with Rizz the Sullustan yet. He was a last-minute story choice. I needed a sub-character for these pre-story parts so my fics aren't composed entirely of Kouhun mentally talking to himself

Wynston couldn't believe he just did that.

No. Wrong. He could. It even qualified as a calculated decision. The calculation was how long he could keep this maniac entertained before she cut his throat or he succeeded in working out why Intelligence had shackled him to her. He didn't quite want to get rid of Kaliyo at this point. If they saw something in her, it was up to him to work out the details of keeping her under control, and everything about her made him want to take that challenge. The woman worked up every competitive instinct he had. Around people like that he tended to want to demonstrate he could hold his own and then some.

It was a very bad tendency.

He kept it under control, finished the job and walked away, with most people who had that effect on him. But he was stuck here. On a ship with her. He had been for weeks and HQ had shown no signs of taking her off the assignment. So sleeping with her was really just opening another front on what might turn out to be a protracted war.

The woman did know what she was doing. In something other than murder and forgery, which was something of a relief to discover. He'd been paying attention for hints of those other two the whole time, but, no problems. No problems at all. Pure exhilaration, in fact, quite possibly either the best sex he'd ever taken as a challenge or the best challenge he'd ever taken as sex.

That didn't remove the basic problem with Kaliyo. She was, in all probability, certifiably insane. She was selfish, cruel, manipulative, with no respect for life and less than no respect for the organization he worked for and the worlds it served, and he wasn't even confident the generous pay would keep her on good behavior. If he thought Keeper had a sense of humor he would have wondered whether this assignment was some kind of joke; Kaliyo was about as far from a partner as he could have asked for. Apart from possessing the body and voice of a minor goddess. But he was pretty sure there were goddesses out there with more reliable credentials.

And yet, if he had to have her here, he had no intention of missing out. His own enjoyment aside, it would give her something to think about that wasn't "how much havoc she could wreak landside."

When he had awakened she'd been occupying three-quarters of the bed's real estate and quietly snoring into the mattress. She hadn't stirred when he got up. Noted.

He experimentally bumped the drawer a little bit when finding his clothes. No response he could see or hear from her. Also noted. This wasn't even for any particular purpose, he was just gathering data. One way or another, he was sure she had been doing the same for him since day one.

Across the room to pick up a comb, fumbling his grasp to let the comb clatter to the vanity; there. She finally took a sharp breath and groaned. Her silver eyes snapped open – and she did have gorgeous eyes – and her full dark mouth eased into a little malicious smile – and she did have gorgeous lips. Without stirring from her sprawled position she focused on him and the smile widened. "Hey. Agent. Get a girl something to drink?" That rich sarcasm livened her voice from the start.

"Get it yourself, sweetheart," he drawled, and headed out without listening to her growling response to the previously-objected-to endearment. Lesson one, he wasn't the obliging boy toy. He could play that role, but not for her.

A very bad tendency.

Kaliyo's antagonistic romance dialogues are pretty much the best things ever. I might upload mine someday, except I missed recording an infamous critical one in the sequence. Anyway, dealing as much BS as she deals you is way more fun than perhaps it should be.

By the way, Quinn, when Wynston has to play nice, is another who has that competitive effect on him. As Ruth-less demonstrates in spades.

Kaliyo woke up someplace new. Her tongue felt dry and a little fuzzy. It only took a moment to piece together going out with Wynston, talking, dancing, unwinding, coming back to – oh, this wasn't "new", it was "next door to her normal quarters." The agent had been holding out on her: this bed was way bigger than hers.

The noise that had awakened her was something dropping on a hard surface. She opened her eyes to see an already-dressed Wynston turning away from the vanity to look at her. He gave her a half-smile that suggested last night had worked out all right from his point of view.

Well then, score one for her. "Hey," she said. "Agent. Get a girl something to drink?" Maybe her pout was ironic, but he liked playing along with ironic so far, so hey, it might work.

His smile widened. "Get it yourself, sweetheart," he said, and started for the door.

"I told you not to call me that, blue-boy," she said loudly. But he was already gone. No big deal. He wanted to piss her off with the sugary names, she could pay him back later, one way or another.

Now that she was awake she turned over, arranged the pillows, stretched out, and tucked her arms under her head to take a look around the room. It was just about empty. A travel bag, a blaster by the bed – not much to look at, but decent quality and in good shape, something she could appreciate about his tastes – and then a few toiletries on the vanity. Drawers set into the walls, a handful of shelves that must've come with the place because he sure wasn't using them. She wondered whether he even owned anything that wasn't Imperial standard issue.

She would've expected his quarters to be the place for it. But no, not even here. He didn't keep anything worth selling around the ship, apart from the gear, and the gear was mostly under biometric locks. It was like he didn't trust her or something. He had a dozen jokes for why he ran it that way, but every punchline was, she didn't get to touch any of the good toys unless there was a "compelling need."

That phrase might yet drive her insane, by the way. It was up there with "constructive solution" on his list of favorite ways to reject fun ideas. Every time she just wanted to blow something up…not that he didn't arrange it sometimes, but he didn't use it as the easy way out, even when he should. For a bad*ss galactic spy he sure had a limited number of solutions to his problems. Well, that's where she came in. Creative consultant. With a big gun.

Anyway, this room was the last holdout in her inventory of goodies on the ship. Too bad there was nothing here. Ah, well. The ship itself could be worth tens of millions, maybe more. Powerful prototype, plenty of tricks, and easy on the eyes, too. Only trouble would be finding a buyer stupid enough to pick up one of Imperial Intelligence's most valuable and, thanks to its uniqueness, traceable assets. Could be done. Something to keep in mind if anything were to happen to the ship's current owner.

Not that she wanted anything to happen to him. For a cog in the big bad machine, he was kind of entertaining.

And it was a plus that he lived up to all the Intelligence hype. You heard things about agents. Last one she'd bagged hadn't been much to speak of, but she – the agent, not Kaliyo – had been completely smashed at the time, so maybe sloppier than the spec. (Wynston didn't have that problem in their evenings out so far. He could ease up but he never let go. Shame, he might be a funny drunk. Unless that nonstop small smile with slightly drier wit than usual was drunk. There was a sad thought.) Anyway, he wasn't messed-up enough to have trouble here last night, so at least there was some upside to his refusal to let loose in social – read, public and drinking – situations.

She'd had better sex. She'd also had a lot worse. Wynston might have the least impressive overall physique of any man she'd ever known – she was pretty sure she could take him down hand to hand if she wanted to on strength alone, not even any need to get fancy – but the details were nothing to complain about, he was awfully pretty, and the way he went in for just about anything she said might come in handy if he kept in the habit.

She liked last night's Wynston a lot more than she liked the cool preachy work machine he became between assignment and mission completion. Well, she could keep working on that. The cool preachy work machine was still hell in a fight. And he liked the fighting, whether he admitted it or not. He got off on doing the job right everywhere else, he just denied it in combat zones. Poor boy just needed a little encouragement to catch up to his funner half.

The door slid open. Wynston stepped in and met her eyes to smile before taking a long shameless look at the rest of her. Yeah, he knew a good thing when he saw it. "I would tell you you're gorgeous beyond all reason," he said, "but you always seem to get annoyed when I state the obvious." Any time he was talking to her and not lecturing he kept this thick layer of insincerity in his tone. Sometimes, rarely, it made her wonder what he was really thinking. "Anyway, I brought this for you. Because I care."

He tossed something onto the bed beside her. A ration bar. A foil-wrapped Imperial Ration Bar, type D. Her absolute least favorite thing on this ship. He ate the things, because he was a freak. He would eat bantha sh*t as long as it had an Imperial stamp and ration code on it. She hated the bricks and he knew it.

She sat up to grab his lousy offering. "Anyone ever tell you you're obnoxious?" She whipped the bar back at his face.

Annoyingly enough, he just caught it in one hand and grinned. "Quite a few people, whenever they get the chance. Now, any time you're ready we can get going." He gave her one last appreciative once-over, then tossed the ration bar once, caught it, and sauntered off again.

All right, so he was weird in more ways than one. He didn't have to make sense as long as his bosses kept paying her and he kept it fun. Contacts in Imperial Intelligence were nice. Reeling in an actual pet agent could be even nicer. Hell, even if he didn't melt in her hands it'd be fun to mess around with him for a while.

All in all, not a bad gig, and one that as of last night had just gotten better. She wondered how long she could ride it.

Kaliyo may never see it, but drunk-Wynston is, I discovered during Lodestone, pretty morose, inclined to overdo every negative-emotional thing he can think of and babble about it. Drunk-Wynston also takes an obscene amount of alcohol to activate.

At this point, outside clothes and weaponry, Wynston also keeps a small print book that belonged to his first partner. I think that's about it for sentimental possessions.

Ajacksa tapped a pattern on her jaw as she headed to the spaceport, reprogramming her detector to only let her know of immediate threats. The constant readout of poisons from Hutta's atmosphere was beginning to drive her nuts. She took a deep breath to test it and gagged a little as a particularly nasty wave of stench hit her. Smelled like something had died. Go figure.

She avoided meeting the gaze of the hard-eyed mercs loitering outside the spaceport. Pretend they don't exist, act like you have someplace to be going. And she did. A job. For credits. Too bad it was for a crazy woman. There was no way she was going to bring that child back, even if she did manage to defeat a desperate Korriban-trained protective father. What kind of mother would send their son to the Sith? The Sith! She'd never seen one, but the stories were more than enough. Her jaw hardened. It was a nearly a death sentence.

At least Gianna was just stupid. Thought she was doing what was best for her son. Put her leagues ahead of some mothers. Mothers who tried to poison their own children.

Jack paused in the door, looking for the contact Gianna had told her to talk to. She'd almost refused the job, but she needed the credits. She rolled her shoulders, feeling the edge of the ill-fitting chest armor digging into her side. It was better than what she'd arrived on Hutta in, but it was obvious that the last person to wear this did not have hips. She took a deep breath and grimaced as the armor didn't give. Or much of a chest.

If she played this right she could get a couple more credits, and the boy would get a chance at a fresh start with a parent who was sane and cared about him. Must be nice to have one of those left.

There is no WAY a piece of armor you pick up off some thug in Jiguuna would fit a female bt4. Not a chance in hell, lol.

“Begin recording. No, stop, this is really stupid. Wait, Perry was right. I need to talk this out to something that won’t look upon me with disapproval. Begin recording again,” Lylac looked up at her older sister in embarrassment. Perrina was not supposed to have this recording.

“Perry, let me explain.”

“Oh, I’ve heard this before; you need to hear this again. Your choices were emotional, foolish,” Perrina stopped looking severe and broke into a huge smile. “And I could not be prouder of you. Now listen.”

Perrina started the recording again.

“I think it started when I waved Vector away at the spaceport. He said something about how they needed to commune with the nest, and they had to be on Alderaan. I smiled and waved and if he were half as good at reading auras as he claims to be, he would have noticed that inside I was screaming don’t leave me alone… again. Then I went back to the ship and said the words I will regret for the rest of my life. Let’s go party on Nar Shaddaa! When we landed was when things went wrong.

I let Kaliyo challenge me to a drinking contest; I lost miserably but I was incredibly drunk at that time. Everything went black. I woke up on an unknown world being force choked by a sith. This in itself was not unusual, but the new planet was worrying.

I may never understand why she decided to save me, but as my vision was starting to blur I saw the strangest sight. A mirialan rushed the sith with both blasters drawn. She was no bigger than I was, and the sith was maybe three times my size, but he didn’t survive her attack. Her friend looked like he was about to have a heart attack when he saw her charge. She looked down at me and asked me my name… I think… things were really blurry at that point.

I told her my name, my real name, and I didn’t bother to hide my accent either. She looked shocked that I was imperial; maybe, my vision was only just starting to clear. Her name was Ennaly and she took pity on me. Turns out, I was on Coruscant, and she had been hunting that particular sith for a while. Coruscant, the last place I thought I’d turn up; still don’t know how I got there. Ennaly’s friend, boyfriend I later learned, looked torn between wanting to protect me and wanting to leave me there. I needed all the pity I could get so I told them what I could remember of how I got there, but when I started explaining, getting ready to cry big fake tears to get more pity, I actually started actually crying with actual tears. I was alone, no ship, in the middle of enemy territory, and I might not have ever seen Vector again. I lost all reason; I must have for what I did next. I told them everything. Everything that had happened since I met the SIS, and all I went through to undo the damage.

She looked at her companion and told him that they were taking me with them. That was news to me; I was just expecting a cover story and transport off planet. She asked me where I wanted to go; all I could think about at the time was seeing Vector, and getting back to my family. I wanted to go to Alderaan. Total lie, I just wanted to forget Alderaan, the people, the politics, and the house I destroyed. We all walked to the spaceport, I was wearing Ennaly’s jacket over my head because I stood out a bit, and we made it to the ship.

It wasn’t as pretty as mine was but it looked functional and sturdy. Those words could be used to crew. I’m sure I heard growling from the big wookie as the captain explained how things were going to be until we landed on Alderaan. I wasn’t locked up there were no sections of the ship I was not allowed to see. Ennaly told me to respect the privacy of the inhabitants and that same privilege would be given to me. It was better than I expected, they treated me like a member of the crew, but I saw the way they all treated each other. There was respect, trust, love, and no signs of cannibalism or drinking blood. Then again, these people didn’t seem like model Republic citizens, there was even a Mandalorian. I studied them, not for weakness but out of habit, and they acted as I did around Perry and Mom, they acted like family. I resolved then that I would improve the relationships in my crew.

Things went south fast. We were waiting for clearance to land on Alderaan when customs caught us. They wanted to inspect the ship and I was certain my presence would be a problem. I hid in the med bay and hoped for the best when Ennaly and Corso rushed in. He was doubled over in pain but straightened up when the door closed. Ennaly looked calm, rushed, and worried all at the same time. She turned to Corso and told him to hide me in the crawl space then return to the med bay and look sick, gave him a kiss, and ran out of the room.

We walked to a random spot in a hallway and he pulled out a panel in the ceiling. He picked me up, set me in the small space, and told me to keep quiet until they left, then I could get out and good luck. For the first time in my life, I was thinking how lucky it was that I was skinny because there was no room. It should have been called a slither space because crawling was out of the question. I could hear everything going on in the ship, every word and every step.

When I got used to the space I started thinking about the kiss Ennaly and Corso shared. It wasn’t long or particularly passionate but it was sweet, and spoke volumes of the love between them. My thoughts turned to Vector and the irrevocable fact that I was an alien. It started me crying again, so much so that I couldn’t hear when the officials left. Ennaly came for me and I was just starting to get a hold of myself when she said, and these are her words exactly, ‘Hey kiddo, what’s wrong?’ That was enough to start me crying again. I said something about Vector, humans, the Empire, and how he would wake up one day and realize I was just a worthless alien. I didn’t see the slap but I felt it loud and clear. It was what I needed to get a hold of myself. She said that she met aliens and humans, republicans and imperials, and I was better than most because I was a good person. Oh, and if I ever called myself worthless where she could hear again I would be cleaning the ship stem to stern armaments and cargo included.

We landed and I was smuggled to the House Thul spaceport without incident. My ship was waiting for me and so were Mom, Dad, Perry, and Vector. I had never been so happy to see anyone in my life, although Ennaly was looking at Mom strangely. I did tell her that most of my family was sith, but loyal to family and I would be fine going back there. I walked to the people who were waiting to see me, gave Perry a hug and turned to wave goodbye to the strange captain when Dad spoke. He said something like, ‘Lets’ get off this rock,’ when Ennaly turned around with a look of fury, drew both blasters, and shot Dad in the shoulder before we could react. The next few minutes were tense as a battle raged in the spaceport. When both sides fell from exhaustion explanations were given. Ennaly knew Dad, well at least his voice. I know my family has done and will do terrible things but I didn’t know he had killed her entire crew on her nineteenth birthday and almost destroyed her ship as well. They left to go patch up their wounds but you could almost taste the animosity. Perry told me to record what had happened, I laughed and said that was a stupid idea, and went back on the ship with Vector. I got out the recording device and, well, now we’re here. Um…that’s it. End recording.”

“I wonder how you made it onto Coruscant, Sis,” the normally severe looking Pureblood had her arms wrapped around her sister.

“”Yeah, me too. If we’re done here I think I need to wear down Vector some more,” Lylac smiled at her sister and walked to the door.

“Good luck! Call soon! And often!” Perrina sat smiling for a long while after her sister left.

Cielle slowly cracked her eyes open, her head was pounding. What had she been thinking? Black Ale indeed. She hadn't dared tried to keep up with Mandalore of course, but after being adopted into the clan she had to make a good showing. She had drank far more than she normally ever would. Actually she almost never drank. Dulled the senses. Made a person vulnerable. Not something someone in her line of work could afford.

It had been a grand evening though. The stories the champions swapped were in some case inspiring. Some were just funny. What she could remember anyway.

The room was mostly dark, faint light from some of the computerized panels in the room glowed softly, but even that was enough to add to the throbbing of her head. She closed her eyes again, casting her thoughts back to the night before.

Her natural reticence had returned after she had agreed to become part of the Mandalore's clan. She was content to sit back and listen. Bloodworthy and Mandalore had been trying to one up the other with outrageous stories. Jewl'a though had only sent several sideline glances her way, her eyes cold, and every statement laced with contempt. Cielle got the sense the Zabrak woman didn't like her, but from what she had heard, the woman didn't like anyone. Defenestrator's factual recitation of his bounties only encouraged the others to embroider and elaborate on each successive story.

As the evening had progressed though, she found her eyes more and more going back to Bloodworthy, drawn by the easy laugh in his voice. She knew he was probably twice her age, yet she could feel a strong attraction to him. Being feminine and flirting though was completely foreign to her. Cielle settled for just watching him when she thought he wasn't looking.

Water, a glass of water would be wonderful right now, she thought through each throb of pain in her head. Opening her eyes again, her glance fell on the pillow next to her own and what lay there.

A beautiful white flower and a folded note lay next to her. Slowly sitting up she turned up the light enough to read the note.

“Thank you for last night. A beautiful token for a beautiful lady” The note was signed with a big BW.

Oh no, what had she done? Did she say anything? Did she?... Her face turned hot with blushes and she looked around the room, slightly panicked at what prompted the note.

Just then the door chimed softly and slid open. Mako stepped through with a glass of water and small stim in her hand. Grinning in a knowing manner she handed the glass to Cielle and then pressed the stim to Cielle's bare arm. Cielle sighed in relief as the coolness of the stim spread through her system calming the pounding.

Cielle raised an eyebrow at Mako, still trying to get her blushing under control. Mako laughed at the unasked question in Cielle's eyes.

“He was a perfect gentleman when he carried you here last night". * long pause* " You spent the night alone. I was the one that undressed you and tucked you in” Mako continued in a delighted tone,” Ha, it was obvious you like him and he likes you too. He asked me to give those to you.” Heading back out the door, Mako said over her shoulder “I'm off to breakfast, want to send a sappy love note back?” The only answer was the thud of a pillow thrown at the door as it closed behind her.

In the room, Cielle tucked her knees under her chin as she pondered the night before and then flower and note. This was truly the start of another chapter in her life.