The message was clear, the crew was to take some well deserved time off.

“A Holiday?” said Vector “We have a suggestion agent, if we may. Have you ever tried skiing? We know of a delightful lodge back on Aldearaan.”

“Skiing?”, replied Irrissa. “I don't think I am familiar with that activity”

Vector proceeded to explain skiing to the group.

Kaliyo snorted” Strap a couple of boards to your feet, and then throw yourself down the side of a slippery mountain,where you are likely to fall on your ***, and then be wet and cold. I don't think so. I'll pass. Nice bright warm casino for me. I am off to Nar Shadaa myself.”

Temple shuddered “after Hoth, I have had enough cold to last me for quite a while. I would prefer to just stay here on the ship”

“Agent, you and Vector should go. I have some personal things to attend to while we have the time.” replied Lokin.

*A few days later *

Evening found the two of them in front of a fireplace with some mugs of lovely hot spiced liquid. The day had been great fun with Vector doing his best to teach the agent how to ski. What had followed was lots of falling down on her part and laughter from both of them. Vector thought, how lovely she was with her cheeks pink with the cold and the light of happiness in her eyes. She had been so focused and businesslike since the day he met her. Even the hive took note of his lightness of spirit in his response to her. It was ironic that it took a day in the cold to bring out the underlying warmth in her personality.

Irrissa smiled at Vector from the pile of pillows where she was reclining and toasted him with her mug. “Thank you for the suggestion. I don' t know that I will ever master skiing, but this was the most fun I have had in a very long time”

Minalde stood out on the balcony of her room on Tython. She loved the view of the waterfall. Carefully she placed the seedlings of her favorite flowers in the boxes that lined the edges of the balcony. This was when she missed her ancestral home the most. Working in the garden at the season of new beginnings, watching the plants sprout. Smelling the blossoms of the shurra trees that filled the estates.

So focused was she on her memories that she didn't even realize he had come up behind her until she smelled the familiar scent of a shurra blossom. Felix tucked the blossom behind her ear then,standing behind her,wrapped his arms around her.

“Its the season of new beginnings my love, do you have an answer for my proposal?” he whispered into her ear.

She leaned back against him as she thought about how to word her answer.

“No! I won't do it and you can't make me” shouted Rissa “this is a stupid idea. Who decided that coming to a beach was a relaxing idea”

“You did, you crazy Sith” replied Andronikos “ You wanted some warm weather, and a break. Why would you come to the beach and not want to go into the water.” He gestured towards the water where Ashara was frolicking in the waves like a kid. “You could have headed off to that dig site in the jungle with Khem and Talos or stayed on the ship with Xalek. Zash was as excited about the site as Talos was. I tell you, it still freaks me out to hear her voice from his body”

He stalked over and swooped her up in his arms,heading towards the water. Rissa began to panic and flail. Instinctively she threw a knock back that caused Andronikos to drop her on the sand as he went flying.

“Why did you do that?” he growled at her as he picked himself up. He realized then that the normally arrogant,confident Sith was actually afraid.

Rissa ducked her head and mumbled something.

“What?” he asked.

“I can't swim” she said again, glaring at him. “Its not one of the things they think to teach you on Korriban.

He began to laugh. “Well then, its time you learned Sith. I'll teach you” He picked her up again and this time she let him carry her out into the water.

There was something about the golden light that filled the air,trees that towered red and gold above their heads and a touch of crispness in the air. To Cielle, Voss was such a beautiful planet.

She and her crew were traveling to the Shrine of Healing but despite the urgency of her mission,she couldn't bring herself to hurry. They had stopped and bargained for a basket of harvest fruit and a few klicks down the road they found a decent spot to set up a camp for the night.

Torian and Gault bustled about setting the camp up. Cielle tried to help but they shooed her off, so she sat down on a log next to Mako. A fire was already crackling and Cielle stared in the flames. A sense that a chapter in her life was closing filled her thoughts. The atmosphere seemed to inspire reflection and memories to flow.

As the sun dropped below the horizon,the sky filled with sparkling stars. Cielle began to recall all the people she had loved and lost, too many for her relatively short life. Melancholy threatened to overwhelm her and a sense of loneliness.

Mako,seeming to sense Cielle's mood reached over to give her a sisterly hug. Pulling her thoughts to the here and now she looked around the fire at the group sitting with her. Blizz, full of cheerful chatter, Gault with tricks and schemes but still a charming scoundrel, Mako, who was like a sister and Torian, who... Meeting his eyes she was startled by the intensity of his look as they locked gazes.

Cielle would always love this time of year.

In the melee Wynston wrenched a bulky blaster rifle from one of the anarchist thugs. When the last anarchist went down, he turned his weapon on the woman who had brought him here.

Kaliyo Djannis grinned at him from where she stood on the other side of her fallen contact Wheezer and his dead friends. "Finally got yourself a real firearm, huh?"

"You bring every weapon you can," he said.

"Yes, I do." Kaliyo grinned approval. "You worked out nicely. Anyway. I really thought the Wheezer wanted to meet you to talk, not pull something. Guess it worked out." She lowered her rifle.

Wynston didn't.

She frowned at him. "What?"

"You've been selling information to these anarchists."

"Well, yeah."

Again he had to ask himself, what had made Intelligence insist on hiring her? He had never figured it out. Firepower, but they could have gotten that anywhere else. An enjoyable mistress in every possible sense, but his employers weren't known for assigning priority to that. So why? What justified letting her using his agency – sometimes going over his head to do so – for the destruction she did? Stay calm, he reminded himself. Cool. Professional. "How long?"

"Since I signed on with you," she said breezily. "I sold him some stuff on Dromund Kaas and it just became a regular thing. He pays better than you do, and it's not like it got you in trouble. You guys keep all kinds of goodies at your fingertips, they were going to waste." When he failed to return her smile she huffed impatiently. "Come on. I never talked about the missions, I'm not stupid. This guy was into bombing spaceports and raiding transports, not high espionage."

"You of all people should have known not to sell out the Empire on my watch." He had been her meal ticket for a long time. He had offered good pay, good sex, challenge, entertainment, pathetically devoted backup. He had done everything in his power to keep her satisfied and he had loved every minute of it…but then, in the choice between grasping for more and offering whatever nonrecreational use she was supposed to be good for, what had he really expected out of her? "I knew you were made for backstabbing, but you were supposed to betray me. You'd find some way to sell me out, I'd get out of it, I'd take down anyone who was foolish and crooked enough to take whatever bargain you'd offered. We'd fight. We'd have fun. You could've made it something forgivable. But instead you did this, helped your terrorist friends kill my people. Innocents, Kaliyo."

"Credits, Wynston," she said impatiently. "You should know by now that I am never going to care about the Empire and its capital-P People. Not like you do, not at all."

"This went too far." It didn't matter what purpose she was supposed to serve. The only correct course of action now was a trigger squeeze. Wynston had catalogued a thousand projected situations in which he might have to kill Kaliyo Djannis: when it came to this one, he realized, he couldn't do it.

"I'll be returning to the ship," he said instead. "You won't. Get moving."

"Oh, yeah? And just how am I supposed to get off this rock?"

"Credits?" he suggested coldly. He didn't trust his composure to hold at cool anymore.

"Huh." She nodded slowly, her eyes flicking between his rifle and his face. "You really mean it, don't you. You're just gonna cut me loose."

"Yes. Settle your accounts with Intelligence on your own time." Let them sort out her purpose. Or let them admit she had played them all. "Don't come after me. I promise I'll leave you be so long as you walk away now."

Anger hardened her voice. "You can't ditch me that easy. You don't get to make that call."

"I just did. You started this. I'm telling you where it stops."

Her lips pulled back from her teeth. "I can wreck you, Wynston. I can tear down everything you ever built."

True. That was why he had to stop it. That was why he was cursing himself for being unable to end it. "I'm aware."

"'Aware' but you'll still turn your back on me? You owe me better than that, you slime."

Calm, he reminded himself. Cold. Professional. "You want my respect, you have it. You're the most dangerous woman I ever met and that was before you learned enough to shred me and everything I've worked for. I know all that. Still, it's you." All right, maybe not a hundred percent professional. "I can't let you keep using my resources, but I will let you go."

Now her voice was rough-edged, her sneer pronounced. "So what, am I supposed to be grateful that you've deemed me worthy to keep breathing? You're never gonna stop being that self-righteous karking pr*ck, are you? Newsflash, blue-freak, I don't need your blessing to exist."

Calm. Cold. Professional. He nodded down at his blaster rather than taking his aim off her to gesture with it. "You really do. Prior to today I never considered revoking it."

"Come off it," she spat. "Like you haven't been paid to do worse yourself. You're as dirty as I am." She rolled her eyes in exaggerated disgust. "So fine. Let's call it even, we go back to the ship, you can still save the Empire – it's not like my side deals were gonna bring the whole thing crashing down, and I'll stop doing it anyway. Just skip the bull**** about punishing me over your stupid schoolboy principles."

The abuse didn't bother him; verbal punching bag was just one of the many services he had offered her, and with every fresh temper tantrum she took full advantage. It didn't matter anymore. He edged backward toward the courtyard gate. "I won't punish you. Just don't follow me."

She took a step towards him anyway. When he failed to fire, she raised her hairless brows. Her aura of rage settled into a calmer arrogance. "You haven't shot me yet. You're not going to. I don't think you can do it, agent." She even managed a dark smile. "Those big professional balls aren't up to it this time, are they?"

"I'm giving you a chance, Kaliyo. Take it." He had to break down for one of the words they never said to each other. "Please."

"Aww," she drawled. "Is that where this is going? We talk about our feelings together?"

That stung. It was he who had first thrown those words at her the one time she had tried to talk about something that was neither work nor play. She got what she wanted out of him, and uneven though it was, he got what he wanted out of her; he had refused to let that dynamic change. The refusal was supposed to keep things under control, keep them clean. It hadn't worked.

"Go," he said.

"No," she replied, and started her play. She wasn't stupid enough to bring the rifle up to aim; instead she let it fall to hang by its shoulder strap as she approached him with a lazy sway-hipped gait. "Look, Wyn, I know you're mad. I was a bad girl. But I'll make it up to you, promise. This ride is too good for you to give up now and we both know it. Plus, I will make the very short remainder of your life hell if you leave me on this rock. So let's just go, yeah?" She edged in to touch him, ignoring his own rifle.

He let the weapon drop. Kaliyo's rages could pass as quickly as they came. She knew he knew that. Hell, she knew he liked it, the crash from reckless abuse to reckless other things, the game of provoking or preventing either or both. This close she smelled of plasma, sweat, scorched armor, with the sharp edge of blood. Around anyone else that meant unpleasant cleanup; around her it meant foreplay. He settled one hand against the perfect warm curve of her waist.

"I can be good," she purred. Of course she would think that he would be suckered into an embrace right after an exchange like that. Wynston would very much have liked to be suckered into it. Instead he leaned into her, swept a dart out of his pocket, and planted it in her side. It was the only trick he had that wouldn't kill her. He knew she carried no corresponding mercy. She never had.

Her eyes widened. "That was my move."

"Got there first," he said softly, pushing aside the black-nailed hand that had been both caressing his back and slipping a knife from its sleeve sheath. The sedative would take another few moments for full effect, but he already had the physical advantage.

She bared her teeth again. "You always fell for that before."

"I always wanted to fall for it before." He caught her when she swayed. "But you can't play me for everything." With practiced care he eased her to the ground.

She grasped at his jacket and stared up at him, her streaked ivory face warping with fury. "I'll kill you," she said hoarsely. "You think you've beaten me? I'll hunt you down and I will kill you."

"Don't try." He considered a last kiss, decided it was too late for that. "It's been fun, love. Goodbye."

Kaliyo's silver-tipped eyelashes fluttered a few more times before she lost consciousness completely.

Wynston got up, walked briskly over to his former partner's dead anarchist friends, and started searching them for items of interest, anything he could bring home to report on. Calm, he reminded himself. Cold. Professional. He went through the motions of gathering evidence for this meaningless side task and then started back toward the ship, leaving his uncorrected mistake behind.

I really need to get over my reliance on fast-acting sedatives. But they're so useful when they work…and the amount of blunt head trauma required to knock Kaliyo out the old-fashioned way would be more than I really want to visualize.

Rattataki are bald, but Kaliyo's game model has eyelashes and I know that bald Twi'lek canonically have eyelashes, so Rattataki may plausibly have them too.

I'm not sure when in Wynston's timeline this occurs. After Belsavis, but less than six months into his post-game career.

The end of the Wheezer scene in game is her saying "Let's just go" in a sulky way and me wondering "Wait a minute, why am I letting you back on the ship? I should shoot you here and now, even though I do love you."

LONG RAMBLING ABOUT LOVE AND GODDESSES HEREAFTER:

"Is that where this is going? We talk about our feelings together?" This is actually what you say if you decide to throw Kaliyo's hints about love in her face. I would've felt bad, except if any woman out there deserves cruel treatment it's Kaliyo Djannis.

Roll "Djannis" off your tongue. Let the D drop and you get Janus, the two-faced god. The similarities end there, but I think the tagline suits Kaliyo. Meanwhile, Kali is a manifestation of darkness in Hindu mythology, a bringer of death and destruction, a consort of Shiva the Destroyer.

In fact, forgive me for quoting Wikipedia, but the Wikipedia article mentions a particular devotee of Kali: "Rāmprasād comments in many of his other songs that Kāli is indifferent to his wellbeing, causes him to suffer, brings his worldly desires to nothing and his worldly goods to ruin."

…huh. Kali a consort of Shiva, but my poor Chiss Wynston leans more toward blue Vishnu the Preserver.

Anyway. Wynston can be described in terms of sympathy with and opposition to three women: Kaliyo the body he can't resist; SPOILER the mind he hates and resents even as he follows its own policies, limits, and cold decisions; and Ruth the heart vacillating between what is wanted and what must be done. He might have stabilized that last if he'd ever gotten close enough, but he didn't. Instead he kicked one of the triumvirate out, executed the second, and was banished to a distance by the third.

Rochester stretched out on the blanket, revelling in the rays of sunshine. There was not a cloud in the sky, it had not rained in days and the temperature was constantly warm: despite all this planet's failings, he was enjoying himself. The sun was low on the horizon, painting the sky pink and the sea gold. The sand beach spread for miles to the north and south and behind them, now shrouded partially in the dark of night, was a wonderfully cultivated jungle.

Broan leant down and kissed his jaw. Rochester's stubble scratched at his lips. They had left quite a few of their luxuries on the ship, including the laser-razor. It was part of their plan to get away from the hectic life of Sith Lord and Naval Lieutenant - so far it had worked. Rochester caught him in a deeper kiss and grabbed him about the waist. He pulled the smaller man atop him and pressed their bodies together.

"Here?"

"Why not?" Rochester grinned and squeezed. He loved how Broan's body was the right mixture of physical exertion and comfortable living. Broan moaned and lazily ran his hands along Rochester's sides.

"Because, mmm... someone might be watching?"

"Really? Well, that's never stopped you before."

"Naughty."

They enjoyed each other's bodies as the sun set, with the air rapidly cooling around them. As the last licks of purple-golden sky gave way to night, the chattering started. Suddenly the beach was filled with clicking, shuffling, shadow mounds. Rochester froze as something sharp and cold brushed against his foot.

"What was that?"

"Just the crab migration."

"The... wha- uhh..." Rochester pulled his legs up to his chest, undecided whether to hug himself or Broan.

"It's the migratory season for the Large Red-backed Rock crabs. I thought you might find it interesting."

Rochester grabbed Broan by the shoulders and dragged him to one side, putting the Sith between him and the sea.

"How large?"

"The males can be as big as a trooper's breastplate."

Rochester tried to rifle through the bags, looking for any sort of weapon, but everything had quickly become covered in crabs. He whimpered and clutched Broan to him.

"Don't tell you're afraid of crabs."

"All these animals, it's just unnatural."

Broan laughed and twisted in Rochester's grip, kissing him on the cheek.

"I'll tell you what: the crabs are quite tasty."

"Good, I think I see my pistol."

Ald was never sure if Dromund Kaas actually had seasons. There were months of cooler temperatures, warmer temperatures, less rainfall, more rainfall, and a general comfortable time that found a balance between rain and warmth. They seemed to move in a pattern, but nothing that screamed “seasonal.”

The first two years of his new life were fraught with fear and misery and woe and death. He wanted nothing to do with this place. He wanted to go home. He wanted his bed. He wanted his toys. He wanted the parents who used to love him. The parents who used to read to him at night or sit by his bed after a strange dream or a moving shadow scared the daylights out of him. Or the nightlights, as it were. But he knew, he knew somewhere in his six year old mind that there was no going back. “The Jedi send their kids off to train at age six,” he remembered his father saying in hushed tones. That’s when he knew something strange was going on. They thought he couldn’t hear him, but the Force thrummed in his ears when his curiosity got the better of him. When his parents took him on a day trip to Dromund Kaas, he felt their apprehension and something else. Was it relief? He remembers the jungles being a bit chilly that day; what passed for Winter on the capital planet.

By eight, he knew the patrol schedule and encampment placements by memory alone. He was always on the move, there was no time and no resource at his disposal to make a permanent map. He’d learned that the hard way when Imperials managed to track him down via his poorly crafted map on animal leather. They were kind enough to leave him for dead. They were dead fools when he was through with them. Spring brought warmer weather and new life. And the Brute of the Jungle was born.

When the humidity became unbearable during the day, he knew it was Summer. By ten, he had tracked down enough material to create a mask to dampen its effects on his ability to breathe and be active during the day. He hunted, he killed, he stole, he lived. The Brute’s legend grew. Whisperings of tales told to naughty children reached his ears and he was delighted. He’d force the last Imperial lying in his own blood to tell him the story. He promised he would let them live if they would just tell him a story. And his legend grew by leaps and bounds. He did this for several years before the stories became too boring to sate his curiosity. And the Summer heat blazed across the jungles, led by the Brute of the Jungle and his child-like amusement.

When Fall came, he prepared for Winter. The winters were never harsh, but years in the jungle had taught him to be prepared for anything. And when his fall came, it was to his backside in Kaas City proper at age fourteen. He had collided with a Sith Lord. For him, Fall blossomed new life instead of signaling the death of life. And he fell from the title Brute of the Jungle to the rise to the title of Aldrdinar, Sith Apprentice to Lord Inusitus.

As he prepared his Winter quarters for the fight ahead, he couldn’t help, but bubble with happiness. He was finally wanted for his power. He would rise. It was the Sith way.

I'm not sure if it comes across well enough, but the italic parts are the parts of the "Brute of the Jungle", scare you straight you disobeying brat story.

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I'm so sorry Don't kiiiill meeeee...

Also, Chapter 4 refers to whatever story they come up with next, but I'm pretty sure he won't try to kill the SW again... <_< >_>... pretty sure.

Life Day showed up in the Star Wars Holiday Special which aired on November 17'th, 1978 which means it was probably more of a stand in for American Thanksgiving not Christmas.