“Lieutenant Pierce,” Quinn said while pacing in front of the members of the crew. “You are a disgrace. Your uniform and hair cut are non-regulation. I expect you to conform to the strict standards of the Empire.”

“Yes, Captain.” Pierce answered, as he tried to keep a straight face.

Vette hid a silent laugh behind her hand, her shoulders shook.

“What’s so funny, slave!” Quinn spun to look at her. “You may no longer wear a collar but make no mistake you are still property.” He hopped onto the empty holoterminal. “I am the Captain here, I demand respect!”

Over an hour ago, Pierce had unceremoniously dumped the Captain into the medical bay to sleep off the rest of his sedatives. Grey, the bounty hunter, had removed his uniform and left him heavily sedated in a brothel on a nameless planet in Hutt territory. A few minutes ago, he awoke, still dressed only in his underpants and began berating the crew.

“What’s going on?” Lord Ninka emerged from her quarters. She eyed the Captain who stood on the holo with his hands on his hips. She raised an eyebrow at Pierce.

“Grey used Depredine to sedate him, my lord.” He said covering his eyes as the Captain began to gyrate and dance to music only he could hear. “Side effects may include mild euphoria.”

“Mild?” Ninka asked raising an eyebrow.

“My Lord,” Quinn said flopping on the couch. “I’m sorry, I’m a disgrace, I don’t deserve to… did you ever notice how soft this couch is?” He lay on the couch and began rubbing his body against the cushions.

“I’m surprised you’re not recording this.” Vette said nudging Pierce.

“Record it? I’m going to have to scrub my eyes and brain with industrial solvent, no way I want to remember this permanently.”

“I don’t know, could get us out of having to do anything around here for a while.”

“Vette, that’s enough.” Lord Ninka said. She turned to Pierce, “Is there anything we can do to counter it?”

“Yeah we could give him Cepradone, but the dosage needs to be exact.” Pierce rubbed his chin. “Problem is he’s our medic. We’ll just have to wait till the effects wear off.”

"How long?" Ninka asked.

"Twenty-four hours, my lord." Pierce answered grimacing.

"I guess we should just go to our quarters then." She said watching the captain roll on the floor.

“I’m pretty!” Quinn said as he ran down the corridor.

"Lock your doors." Pierce said as they all fled to their rooms.

"Well, blast it," Esma muttered as she watched the damaged ladder give way and crash to the debris-littered ground. She could see Scourge tracking its fall from the ground far far below before he stepped to the side and avoided the tangled metal.

His voice was faint as he called something up to her, but she couldn't make out the words.

The hypermatter tower was ridiculously tall. She'd scaled it to disable a tracking beacon that was allowing Imperial ships to land secretly in the dead of night, but like everything else on Corellia the tower had been damaged in the fighting. Esma walked the perimeter of the tower, peering off the edge for any nearby buildings or ledges she could jump to. Nothing. This was the last standing tower on the block, everything else was smouldering ruins and deadly pools of hypermatter. She spotted a ledge three-quarters of the way down, but even that was too far to jump to by herself. She pursed her lips as she considered Scourge pacing at the base of the tower.

"Can you reach that ledge?" she called down, pointing to the sliver of duracrete.

Scourge pointed to the ledge.

"Get to it," she yelled, "I'm going to jump. You're going to catch me."

She couldn't make out what he said, but she was sure it wasn't flattering. She could almost feel him scowl from her vantage point before he made a fluid leap to a handhold halfway to the ledge and then another leap to the ledge itself.

"Ready?" she called down, rubbing her hands on her pants leg.

She took his faint grumble for assent and lowered herself off the side, grasping the edge of the tower, checking her trajectory. If Scourge didn't catch her, there was going to be an Esma-sized smear on the ground. She let go, focused on feeling the Force, allowing it to guide her as she plummeted towards the ground. She reached out a hand and a large one crushed hers, bringing her downward fall to a jarring stop as Scourge swung her up and onto the ledge with him. For a brief moment, he kept hold of her as she steadied herself, both of them breathing a little heavier than normal as they met the other's eyes. Her shoulder burned like crazy. She settled down into a healing trance, blocking out the pain and mending the torn ligaments.

"You are too trusting." She broke out of her trance and glanced up at Scourge who was scowling at her.

"What are you talking about?" She stood and rotated her shoulder. It wasn't a hundred percent, but it would do to get her down off the tower.

"You cannot put so much faith in me. I am Sith, as you have apparently forgotten."

"I haven't forgotten," she said, shrugging as she measured the distance from ledge to ground, "but it doesn't matter all that much. My instincts say you're trustworthy."

She jumped off the ledge, landing hard but intact. Scourge slammed into the ground next to her.

"You must always be on guard against betrayal. Have you forgotten Revan and the Jedi Exile?"

"The fact that you're warning me not to trust you is somewhat ironic, you know," she said with half a grin as she stood up.

"Take heed of what I say. Your trust is misplaced."

She began picking her way through the debris toward one of the many underground passages in the city. "You betrayed them because you thought it was the only way to stop the Emperor, correct?"

"My vision showed me as much," he said as he kept pace with her.

"And you always trust your visions."

"Long experience has shown me the futility of opposing their messages," he said soberly.

"Have you ever tried to stop them?" She glanced up at his face. His jaw was tight, brows drawn.

"I had a brother once. Until the day I had a vision in which I struck him down we were...close. I tried to avoid the fate I had been shown, kept away from him for many years. It made no difference. In the end, my absence destroyed any family feeling between us - he tracked me down and engaged me in combat in spite of my protests, and so I killed my brother. Every one of my visions has come to pass, no matter my attempts to avoid the fate set before me. You cannot trust me, I have killed allies and betrayed vows."

"What are you trying to say? That I'm next on your list?" she asked as they ducked into a crumbling tunnel where complacent Corellians had once traveled.

"Your naivety is maddening. As if I would tell you such a thing if I planned it." Frustration was thick in his voice.

"So what's going on here? I don't understand you." She stopped walking, watching him continue ahead a few paces.

"Your willingness to rely on me is a weakness you must erase." He growled, his back muscles tense.

"Are you planning to betray me?" she asked, trying to sort out his uncharacteristic disquiet.

Without a word he slammed her into a nearby wall, smashing the air out of her chest. "Be done with these questions," he snarled, "I have no such intentions, but it makes no difference. If I had a vision that required your death I would kill you, have no doubts."

Esma's heart thundered as she looked up into his eyes, taking in the unexpected pain she found there. "Would you regret having to kill me?" she asked softly.

"Do not ask such things!"

She could see beads of sweat form at his brow, feel the heavy muscle pinning her to the wall, and yet her instincts told her she was safe. Granted, high amounts of heat were washing through her system, but she felt curiously safe.

"Tell me," she whispered, her eyes caught in his pain-filled ones.

Scourge closed his eyes, dropping his head. His whisper was low and ragged, "It would destroy me."

Esma's eyes widened. She hesitated and then tilted her head, softly catching his lips with hers. He jerked, his eyes snapping open as he stumbled back. Esma lifted her hand to his cheek and then silently slipped past him, feeling his eyes boring into her back as she walked down the tunnel.

Scourge's tendancy to betray, well, everyone is something I struggled with quite a bit. I mean, how can you have a relationship with someone if you can't rely on them?? And why does he keep telling my JK not to trust him??? But I think I have it figured out now...maybe lol.

Oh, and in case you haven't run through the Scourge story yet, the brother I have him talking about isn't mentioned, but really he doesn't talk about his family at all soooo....

Korjonos exited the cantina and paused, eyes smarting. Hutta’s atmosphere smelled like filthy socks fermenting in droid lubricant. His mission brief didn’t recommend a breather because—officially—the air contained the proper mix of gasses and no excessive levels of toxins. He suspected the Hutts doctored that report. The aptly-named Poison Pit cantina had filters that knocked down the worst of it, but the stench hit him in the face every time he stepped out the door, even a day after being immersed in it.

“Hey, you! Interested in making a few easy credits?” Korjonos heard a voice in Huttese. He’d had the foresight to learn that ugly language via Imperial Intelligence’s subliminal courses en route. His attention turned to the speaker, a male Twi’lek with skin the color of rusting durasteel, approaching from the path leading into Jiguuna proper. Korjonos’ solid red eyes narrowed. Twi’leks were an excessively chromatic species. Usually slaves or servants, though this one didn’t look like either. Under normal circumstances, he’d tell the man to shove off. But for now he was the Red Blade, the Red Blade was a pirate, and pirates were always interested in making a few easy credits.

Against his better judgment he answered, “Maybe,” he replied in kind, “depends on the job. And who the hell you are.”

The Twi’lek stopped just outside of easy knife range, “Jesp Rixik. You?”

And now a test of Jheeg’s cover. Korjonos folded his arms across his chest, “The Red Blade,” he said, “never heard of you.” He made a mental note to check Intelligence’s files on the Twi’lek the next time he accessed a terminal.

“Huh,” said Rixik. His stance remained relaxed, “Guess I don’t need to wonder if you’re any good with that rifle, then.”

“Hardly,” Korjonos replied.

“Still interested?” Rixik asked.

“What’s the job?” retorted Korjonos.

“Straightforward. I need to see a guy at the spaceport. I want you to make sure he doesn’t make a run for Jiguuna and disappear,” replied Rixik.

“Right,” Korjonos drawled, “How about the rest of the story. And you forgot to mention what I get out of it.”

“All I want is his ID and his cheater. Anything else he has is yours,” said Rixik, answering only the last part of Korjonos’ question.

“That’s pretty generous, unless your guy is poor,” growled Korjonos, “I want details, Twi’lek.” Liars, even good ones, tripped up on the details.

“I was going to spare you the sob story, but if you insist,” said Rixik, “Little Corellian weasel cheated me at sabacc. I don’t like that.” Korjonos snorted in amusement. Rixik let out an aggrieved sigh, “Yeah, thanks for the sympathy. Anyway, Nem’ro’s guys guarantee there’s no cheaters at the tables, but they didn’t catch his. Naturally, they don’t care that I lost. They do care he cost Nem’ro his cut, plus the loss of face if word gets out. They want his ID and his cheater so they can block others like it, and their reward just about covers my loss.”

“Don’t see why you need help here,” said Korjonos. The story sounded legit enough.

“Because he’s already bolting off-planet,” said Rixik, “I’m not going to take any chances on letting him get away, and I’m willing to be generous to ensure he doesn’t.”

Korjonos considered the proposal for a moment. Personally, he’d prefer to split the reward, since that seemed like more reliable credits. But less than the man was carrying. The Twi’lek was offering him a larger share of the profits, assuming the gamble paid off. That smelled fishy, but the Red Blade would probably take the deal as proposed. The Red Blade could always shoot Rixik if he tried to cross him, and collect the reward anyway. And so could Korjonos, cover or no. “Alright, you got a deal,” he said.

Korjonos accompanied the Twi’lek to the spaceport where he’d landed only a day earlier. “What pad is he on?” he asked.

“One,” said Rixik. He checked the directory at the entrance and drew his blaster.

“Expecting trouble already?” asked Korjonos.

“I’m always expecting trouble,” replied Rixik, “surprised you’re not.”

The pair advanced down the main corridor in the spaceport until they reached the designated landing bay. Rounding the corner, a blaster bolt zipped just past Rixik’s head, followed by a flurry of others. Rixik returned fire and waded into the fray. Korjonos took up a position behind a stack of crates and added his firepower to their defense. The Twi’lek, he noticed, was a better-than-decent shot, and seemed utterly unafraid of fire. Or else he was just skilled and stupid. Regardless, they made short work of their opponents.

As the smoke cleared—contributing a lovely burnt-flesh note to Hutta’s piquant bouquet—Korjonos emerged from cover. Rixik slapped a kolto patch on his only serious injury and jabbed a small disposable stimpak in his arm.

“Stim?” he offered.

“No thanks,” Korjonos replied. He wasn’t dumb enough to accept some unknown stim from this man, and he was almost insulted Rixik thought he would be. “Looks like your friend has some muscle,” he said.

“He’s not my friend,” Rixik growled, “and muscle’s a credit apiece around here.” He tossed the used stimpak on the ground. Stepping past the corpses, he headed farther into the landing bay.

“Don’t want to search ‘em?” asked Korjonos. Surely he wanted to strip the bodies of valuables.

“Bigger fish,” Rixik replied.

Korjonos jogged ahead to catch up. They met no more opposition. Apparently Rixik’s gambling partner bought only a handful of defenders. Perhaps he couldn’t afford more. Or perhaps he didn’t think anyone would get past them. Korjonos puzzled through the implications until they neared the exit to the shuttle platform. He saw a humanoid alone on the platform, but at this distance and without his scope, he couldn’t see any other details.

Rixik stopped him, “Wait here. Don’t let him see you. Probably won’t need any help. If he bolts, he’ll head this way since the only other option is over the wall. Don’t let him reach the corridor,” he said.

“You want him dead?” Korjonos asked.

“Gonna be a hell of a lot easier to take his stuff that way,” said Rixik with a shrug. “Just stay out of sight.”

“Understood,” Korjonos replied. He found a new position just inside the hallway. Perfect cover, nice wide field of fire. He could hit anything that moved on the whole landing pad. Korjonos found Rixik’s target in his scope first—male human, so that fit his tale—then he followed the Twi’lek’s approach the same way.

Training took over. He felt his breathing. The pauses between heartbeats. Korjonos’ world shrank to the enhanced view in his scope. Nothing else existed. This was the part of the job he always found easy. No more research, no more games, just a target in his scope. An opportune shot. End of story.

Rixik mounted the steps to the landing pad and then paused. His gestures suggested he was speaking, but Korjonos was too far away to hear the conversation. He refocused on the target. Center mass first, then he brought the rifle up a fraction to focus on the human’s head. He felt the compensators inside the rifle tuning its aim to match the scope’s image.

The human stood at such an angle Korjonos could see his lips move. He spoke Basic. Questioned who Rixik was. Asked if he were a ‘lawman’. Interesting turn of phrase. A pause, presumably Rixik’s answer. Korjonos didn’t bother following the other half of the conversation. Vexx, his name was Vexx. Bragging now. How many amazing capers he’s pulled. How fast he was with a blaster, blah, blah, blah. No mention of sabacc. No mention of Nem’ro.

There was a flash and a blaster bolt struck the man’s thigh. Rixik must be bored with the human’s boasting. Vexx mouthed an expletive and drew a blaster and fired. Korjonos couldn’t see if he connected. The sound of the shots reached him later, like an out-of-sync holo. He maintained his bead on the human.

Korjonos’ perceptions slowed even further. Bright particle beams flashed past Vexx. More struck him. Paint and plasteel blistered. He returned fire. There was real fear in his eye now. He turned toward Korjonos, perhaps to leap from the platform. Clear, easy, perfect target.

Korjonos took the shot.

He added the tiniest fraction of additional pressure to the trigger. The well-behaved rifle obeyed. The flash masker in the scope blinked as the bolt left the barrel, and in the next instant his bolt struck true. Vexx dropped like a stone. Rixik ran up on him and shot him again, but it was unnecessary. The body didn’t even twitch.

Korjonos began breathing again.

Rixik glanced back at Korjonos’ blind. He motioned with his head to come forward. Korjonos stood and walked forward into the open bay. In the meantime, Rixik bent down and searched through Vexx’s pockets, retrieving a chip and a small electronic device.

“Got want I want,” he said, standing, as Korjonos mounted the steps to the platform, “Rest is yours.”

He stepped away from the body and let Korjonos pass. As he reached down to collect his share he stopped. All the pieces fell into place. He straightened and turned to the Twi’lek, “This man’s worth considerably more than some pittance from Nem’ro,” he said in Basic.

“Oh?” asked Rixik. He still held his blaster, but it wasn’t at ready, “What makes you say that?”

Rixik also spoke Basic, with an inflection suggesting he learned it in Hutt space. Maybe local, even. “I shot him, I want half the bounty,” Korjonos continued, ignoring the question.

“Nem’ro’s not paying much. You’ll get a lot more off the corpse,” Rixik said.

“Nem’ro’s not paying squat,” growled Korjonos, “you never played sabacc with this man, he never cheated you, and I want half of what he’s really worth,” Korjonos fixed the Twi’lek with a glare, “hunter.” The Red Blade would never stand for this.

“Got it in one,” Rixik tipped his head, almost amused, “too bad you don’t like your end of the deal, but that’s all I’m offering.”

In a fraction of a second, both men leveled blasters at each other. Korjonos met Rixik’s odd violet eyes, staring him down and ignoring the barrel of the blaster aimed at his head, “I could always shoot you and take the chip. You might want to reconsider,” he said.

Rixik didn’t move. The pair stayed frozen. Finally, Rixik spoke, “Imperial military?” he asked.

A chill ran up Korjonos’ spine, “What?” he asked, buying time.

“Your Huttese has some of those round vowels like an Imperial HoloNet newsreader,” Rixik said, “You learned it from an Imperial. Your Basic is nice and generic though. Could be from anywhere on one of the main runs.” A sly smile played across his lips, “So before you shoot me, you ought to know that I have friends who know who I was going after. So if you turn in that chip they’re going to start sniffing around. I don’t know your business, but I doubt you want that.”

Lousy, stupid, worthless Imperial Intelligence subliminal language course. “I don’t care about your friends,” he bluffed, “They won’t want to mess with the Red Blade.”

“See, I think you do,” said Rixik, “The Red Blade’s known for a lot of things, but a crack shot isn’t one of them. Well done, by the way. But you’re not trading on your own experience. Between that and the accent I’m thinking Imperial military. Black ops maybe. Except that they don’t accept non-humans, and they usually aren’t so subtle.” His aim never wavered. “Bit of a mystery.”

“You’re bluffing,” Korjonos almost shot him. Almost. If he wasn’t bluffing, shooting him would cause even more trouble. But leaving him alive was problematic. His guesses were too close to the mark.

“I don’t bluff,” said Rixik, “I’m terrible at it. And I’m lousy at riddles. Like I said, I don’t know your business, and I don’t much care. But I’ve got a bit of the same problem myself. I don’t want anyone contesting this bounty. Even unofficially. On the other hand, I don’t want your backup on my heels either.”

“No,” Korjonos seized the opening, “You really don’t.”

“Yeah, figured as much,” Rixik replied, “So here’s the deal. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the Red Blade. And you had nothing to do with my pal Vexx here, that was all mine. We both get what we want at minimum risk. Fair?”

Korjonos mulled the proposal, “I want a better guarantee,” he said. Chances were Rixik would find the nearest information broker and sell out.

“Not going to get one. Though you might want to consider which one of us played straight from the beginning,” Rixik countered. “Well, straight-ish. Stood by the original agreement at least.” He holstered his blaster, “I’ve got other things to do. If you’re going to shoot me, do it now before I collect on this. I don’t want to die with unspent credits in my pocket.” Rixik jumped down from the platform and headed for the corridor to the Jiguuna Spaceport.

Cocky, arrogant bastard. Korjonos held his blaster at his side, “How’d you know he had a cheater?” he called.

Rixik stopped and turned back to Korjonos, “He’s Corellian. I’m sure he cheated someone at sabacc.” Korjonos stepped off the platform and approached the Twi’lek. “You going to shoot me after all?” Rixik asked, “It’s not like you need to be close.”

“Not right now,” Korjonos grumbled, “but I’ve got my eye on you, Rixik. You better not cross me.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, Blade.”

Miriah felt lost. Since she and Corso worked together most of the time, she felt less than confident with Risha instead. It had been almost a week since he’d gone on a trip to Ord Mantell, something the governor there wanted him to be present for, and she’d managed to not accept any missions while he was gone. Until today. Today, she’d made the mistake of not only answering the holo, but then kicking it. Her foot still throbbed, making her movements less than smooth. Not only that, but she and Corso had a method for moving under the stealth generator, one that Risha had just not gotten.

Normally, since they had to remain in close proximity to stay in the stealth field, Corso would put his hand on her left hip. They’d worked out a series of finger taps to indicate direction, bad guys, and even signaling for breaks. And no, unlike what Risha thought, they’d used this long before they’d ever gotten involved with each other, just because it made moving under stealth easier. Of course, after that it had gotten more fun to use, but still, it worked. Miriah gave her engineer a look, and sighed. They’d just have to move more slowly, and slow on Hoth meant freezing. And, she thought, not even the promise of a shared sleeping bag to warm up later.

She clicked the stealth generator and started off, Risha hurrying to stay with her captain. They’d only gone a little ways when Miriah felt something tapping her shoulder. She turned to look at Risha and saw she was pointing at a group of tauntaun. Miriah shook her head no, and started forward again. They’d traveled almost a kilometer when she felt the tapping on her shoulder again. This time, when Miriah straightened to look at whatever the engineer had spotted, she was tackled by the other woman, breaking the stealth field. Miriah had just regained her breath when she saw, over Risha’s shoulder, a pair of Imperial troops, who were just staring at the sight of two attractive females, lying in the snow together.

The women looked at each other, hatching a plan with their eyes. Risha put her head on the much smaller Miriah’s shoulder, and Miriah threw her arms around Risha’s shoulders. They both smiled coyly at the troops, who looked at each other through their visors and shrugged at each other, and with a smirk, they started back to their patrol route. The two women sat up, brushed the snow off, and climbed to their feet.

“Now, do you see why our system works? You could have just tapped my hip bone and I would have been able to steer around those two.” Risha nodded, then grinned at her captain.

“Yeah but now? They’ve got a great story to tell back at camp, and we just proved we can communicate without words, too.”

Miriah shook her head but had to agree. “Now, let’s get that taunlet and get somewhere warm.” They bumped fists, just like they’d seen the guys do, and resumed their stealthy pursuit.

Quesh. Ruth was between errands.

She was crossing the Imperial base’s courtyard when she caught sight of a small, possibly familiar Chiss weaving across the courtyard on his way to the taxi station.

She headed over to make sure. The last time they had spoken, her friend the agent had given her his real name: Wynston. The last time they had spoken, Wynston had told her he was going into deep cover and didn’t know when he would surface again. “Hi there,” she said, as if to a stranger. “Can you tell me where the cantina is?”

The man who turned to her was Wynston, assuming Wynston had been put through the wringer a few dozen times and denied sleep for a month. “Hi,” he said. And just looked at her for a moment. “Ruth, if you have time, I need to ask you a favor. It should be fast. It should be simple. I can’t let you ask questions.” He paused. “It would mean a great deal to me.”

“Absolutely.”

*

Wynston moved with the air of a sleepwalker as he led Ruth to the Imperial forward base and beyond, to a hillside cave a couple of klicks from the nearest path in the endless red-orange swamp. No questions. She kept quiet.

The cave had a cobwebby lab bench against one wall, and Wynston set up a lamp and started pulling an assortment of tubes from around his person. No questions. Ruth kept quiet.

At length he finished prepping a syringe of…something…and sat down next to the bench to line the needle up. “I can’t tell you what to expect,” he told her. “Get me back to the med facilities if I’m still out by nightfall. If I die, I’m dead. No special tricks once I’m done breathing.”

“Wynston – “

“No questions.” He smiled dully. “Thanks for everything.” He injected himself.

His head fell back against the wall, and he stared at nothing for the space of several slow breaths. “I’m not worried about the symptoms,” he said slowly to nobody in particular. “I want my mind back.”

“Wynston?”

He didn’t respond. He just relaxed, more and more, until that stare was nothing more than two red slits in the darkness.

Ruth settled in a spot where she could watch both the cave entrance and the slumped Chiss. A shallow meditation, enough to be aware of his sluggish life force, enough to pass the moments and the hours.

Idiot better know what he was getting himself into.

Idiot better wake up.

When Wynston began to return, his consciousness was a blossom of pain in her mind. “Welcome back,” she said, and helped him sit up. He winced and sagged. “Easy.” He didn’t resist when she pulled him close. His whole presence seemed diminished: small, weak. "I really want to ask how you're holding up,” she told him.

"I know you do." He screwed his eyes shut, turned his head, murmured into her chest. "Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies." A weak laugh. "Official motto of Imperial Intelligence."

Not knowing what else to do, she held him. No questions.

Some time later Wynston shook his head. “Sun must be down by now. We should move.” He struggled to his feet, staggered, righted himself, then led the way out into the twilight.

He stopped her just before they reached the main road to the Imperial base. “It’s done. You never saw me here, Ruth, and you haven’t heard from me in a long time.”

“You got it. Take care of yourself out there.”

“You don’t know how much this means. Thank you, my friend. Goodbye.”

“What the blazes is that supposed to mean?”

“No questions.” He touched a finger to his lips and smiled, almost wistfully. Then he trotted down the road, putting as much distance between the two of them as he could.

*

Ruth, anxious for something to feel a little less helpless about, returned to her ship, and thence to the bridge. Quinn was at his regular station.

“Still no word from Baras?” asked Ruth.

He turned his head to acknowledge her with a nod. “Still no word, my lord.”

“Hm.”

He stood up straight and shifted, almost uncomfortably. "My lord. Might I have a word with you in private?"

"Of course." She stepped well into the bridge and closed the door behind her.

He faced her at a taut parade rest. "Thank you for your attention. I must officially request to be reassigned."

What? "Denied."

He frowned and seemed to struggle for words. "Then I must speak freely."

Wow. Explanations. That would be novel. "Please do, captain."

"I am…compromised. Thoughts...of you...have begun to distract me. My feelings affect my ability to concentrate. I cannot in good conscience continue to serve."

Oh. His speech was delivered with the distinct suggestion that he was about to choke on his own shame. She had made her feelings toward him perfectly clear on more than one occasion, and he still considered this feeling reason enough to leave permanently. Did I say I wanted answers? Scratch that. Scratch it right out. "I see,” she heard herself say. “It would be a shame to see you go, but if you insist, I'll grant it."

“Thank you, my lord.” Quinn presented her with a datapad. “I just need your approval here.”

Reassignment papers. Prepped, ready, eager to go. She tapped her finger, signed her approval, shoved the datapad back in his hands without looking at him. Why is it that the nicer I am to you people, the faster you run away?

“My lord. You understand why – “

Anger flooded her. “Don’t make this harder,” she snapped. “That’s an order.” Now I’m just going to stand here wishing I hadn’t agreed to help you and you hadn’t decided to tell me what’s going on.

“No,” he said at length, and set the datapad aside. She reluctantly met his eyes. He had a certain nervous calculating expression about him. “I’m an idiot,” he said. "Permission to kiss you, my lord."

WHAT IS THIS I DON’T EVEN “Stop toying with me!” It came out as a shout. “Are you actively campaigning for them to name the book on mixed signals after you, or did you already earn that distinction? When you take this long to say something, I damn well expect the results to make sense.”

He seemed surprised by this outburst. “My lord, it was never my intention to cause you distress. Believe me, my mind is made up.”

She Force pulled the datapad from where it lay on the console. “That’s obviously not the case.” She thrust it back at him. “You have no idea what you’re saying. I have no idea what you want to say. I suggest you shut up until you can sort that out, because I expect better than 'maybe' out of you.”

She hurried out. I’m going to lock myself up before anybody else tries to talk to me. Or really confusingly not-talk-to-me. But her new recruit Pierce intercepted her. “Milord. A word?"

"Please, lieutenant, not now. I can't take this."

He raised one eyebrow very briefly. "Was just going to say I finally got through to a supply depot that carries those extra-spicy rations you didn't believe me about. Can grab you samples next time we’re in the area. You'll see I wasn't stretchin' the truth about how potent they are."

Ruth stared.

Pierce stared right back. After a moment he shrugged. "Or not."

Ruth giggled, a little hysterically. "Oh, no, please, let's go. If I could get a single observable fact to line up with a single spoken claim for a single moment today, that would be just great."

"You are an odd one, milord," he informed her.

"...Well. Fact. Claim. Mission accomplished."

Pierce nodded smartly. "Happy to serve."

Ruth and Wynston(/Darnek/Alexis) have come a long way since they first met on Dromund Kaas, when he decided she was cute but too dumb to live long. They've worked together, slept together, broken down, broken up, drifted apart...and yet, circumstances keep throwing them back together at the oddest times.

This is, for various reasons, the second and last encounter throughout which Wynston is honest with Ruth, and he only manages it by asking her not to ask questions.

It is also, for various reasons, one of the first times Quinn is ever honest with Ruth. Or tries to be. He’s bad at it.

For all that the words they speak are accurate, they are both still withholding volumes from her.

It was just a really bewildering day for Ruth.

Vector did not expect to fight today but the Dawn Herald must defend the nest. The band of killik hunters started with six and now they were down to three.

We are coming to aid, hold on. “We fight for the nest.” He replied to the song that spoke to him at all times. He spun between the three men; they wielded electric rods and poison tanks. They had come to exterminate the egg chambers. They had already killed the Killik guardians in the area and had started administering their toxins.

One of the men managed to find a young killik that had not fled. He held the rod to the hatchling’s head shocking it until it died. The pain and anguish distracted Vector long enough for one of the other men to hit him behind his left knee. His leg gave out and the third man hit him over the head. Each hit delivered electricity and pain.

When Vector could open his eyes again he saw the three men circling, their auras pulsing angry red static. They took turns shocking him and laughing. They have laid down poisons, we cannot get near. We tunnel, hold on. “Our song is ending.” Vector whispered as one of the men brought out a vibrosword and raised it above his head. A flash of light blinded him. When he opened his eyes again he saw the three men lay on the ground, at least two were dead. A strange aura approached him then he lost consciousness.

Vector woke to find himself floating alongside the strange aura. His eyes were covered by something and his body was tied down.

We cannot follow, the nest is threatened. “Where are we going?” He asked the aura.

“To the nearest medical facility.” A woman’s voice answered through a helmet filter.

We tried to rescue, she would not let us. “Why are we blindfolded?” The blindfold was soothing his headache, though he was not sure why that would be.

“It’s a medpack. They did something to your eyes, they’re completely black.”

Vector smiled a little. “Our eyes are always like that. We are a joiner.” He felt himself stop moving.

“Oh.” The voice said. The medpack lifted from his eyes, he could not see the aura, it appeared his head was secured as well. He felt the medpack being applied to his ribs, they start moving again. He can see the trees passing overhead.

She hunts her own kind and ours. “We are Vector Hyllus, Dawn Herald of the Oroboro Nest. We smell human blood, are you injured?”

“No, that’s my bounty’s head.”

“Who was your bounty?”

“One of the guys attacking you. I was going to freeze him and tow him back, but the hover sled could only carry one.”

She killed many of us. “Why did you kill the other killiks?”

“First rule of bounty hunting, kill anything that spits acid at you.”

“They were coming to help us.”

“Huh.”

“Is that really the first rule?”

“No.”

She dropped bombs on our egg chambers. We cannot disarm. “Why do you threaten our young?”

“It’s the fastest way to get a sentient life form to back off. Here,” Vector heard the sound of something being powered down. “I’ve disarmed the bombs, your friends can remove them now.”

We are satisfied. We are safe with her. “Thank you.”

“Uh huh.”

“What is your n-“

“Shhhhhh.” The hunter silenced him. She dropped to the ground suddenly as a figure in black rushed overhead; missing its target, the figure in black hit the ground and rolled. From the ground, the hunter shot an electric dart at the figure before it could get to its feet. The figure dropped unconscious as the electricity paralyzed its muscles.

The hunter rolled under the sled, a young woman wearing an Imperial uniform approached cautiously from the brush. The hunter shot a grappling cable from her gauntlet yanking the young woman’s feet out from under her. The grappling cable pulled her toward the hunter. The hunter knocked her out with a punch.

Vector sensed the auras of the figures the hunter was fighting. “Stop please.” He said, “They are friends of mine.”

“I’m getting really tired of people who keep coming to save you.”

“We are universally loved.”

“Oh Yeah? What about the guys who attacked you.”

“A misunderstanding, we are certain.” He said smiling. He was rewarded with a snort. He heard a high pitched whine coming from the hunter’s helmet.

“If I move away,” The hunter responded to the voice in her helmet, “you’ll just kill me, the only thing stopping you is you don’t want to accidentally hit him.”

A shot hit a tree less than an arm’s length away, burning a perfect hole the size of a fist.

“I’m not the one who harmed him,” the hunter replied calmly, “I’m going to give him my earpiece so you can talk to him. I’ll do it slow.” The hunter moved only one arm to her helm and placed her earpiece next to his head.

“Ghost?” He asked.

“Are you ok?” Vero asked.

“We are fine. She saved us.”

“What about Kaliyo and Temple?”

“They are both alive; we can still sense their auras.”

“I’m coming down.”

“She is coming down to meet us.” He said to the hunter. “Do not be alarmed.”

“Huh.” Was the reply it seemed to be her favorite response.

After several minutes, he could feel a new pair of auras, the air changed and Ghost, formerly Agent Vero, formerly Cipher Nine, and Dr. Lokin appeared next to him.

“Vector what happened?” she asked, she had not seen the extent of his wounds from so far away. He would have answered her but she immediately began kissing him making answering impossible, but she did that frequently and he did not mind.

Dr. Lokin brought out his medkit and began checking over Vector’s wounds. He released the head restraints after he determined they were not necessary. He nodded where the job was done well and glared at the hunter where it was makeshift. “You really should take better equipment with you into the field you know.” He said angrily.

"Uh huh.” She grabbed a pair of injectors from his medkit without asking and turned to Temple and Kaliyo.

She dragged them over to a tree and propped them into a sitting position. She administered kolto to each of them. They started to stir after a few minutes.

“Nice job having my back kid.” Kaliyo said when she saw Temple was sitting next to her.

“You just charge in without thinking every time.” Temple’s high-pitched whine replied.

“What were you going to do lay down a barrage and hit bug boy in the process?”

Seeing that they were both going to be fine, she grabbed the severed head of her mark and put it on a rock. She froze the head in carbonite and placed it in a new bag.

Kaliyo watched her work, “You. I’m going to kill you, after I stop seeing double.”

The hunter looked at Kaliyo rubbing her head. She opened up a compartment on her suit and pulled out a small bottle of Alderaanian Brandy, she never drank but it seemed everyone else in the galaxy did.

“Names Grey, peace?” she said offering Kaliyo the bottle.

The Rattataki grabbed it and took a swig. She put her head between her knees still holding the bottle. “Kaliyo, whatever.”

The hunter nodded and turned to Vector and the Agent, “I need to deliver this,” she said waving the bag with the head in it. “You can keep the sled.” She started to power her jetpack, Vector held up his hand.

“Hunter Grey,” he said using the name he heard her give Kaliyo. “We have spoken to the nest. You will have safe passage here, no killik will attack you.”

“Uhh thanks. Very kind of you.”

“It is the least we can do,” he hesitated “and probably the best way to keep our young safe.”

“Huh.” The hunter said and sped off.