As planned, Cirean was now working as a Minder, based at HQ for the moment while her re-training was ongoing. She was still living with Lokin, but strictly in the spare room. In unspoken agreement, neither ever mentioned the one night they'd spent together. Just as when they'd been travelling together as a team with Twelve, they'd settled quickly into a routine, comfortable with each other. Quite like an old married couple, he thought wryly, knowing it would never happen.

 

Cirean was later home that evening than usual, and she could see he was bursting with news as soon as she got in. The holovis was on, showing the usual KC3 (Kaas City Communications Corporation) evening news and analysis programme, but he was pacing around the living room instead of relaxing in front of it, or being out in the kitchen fiddling with one of his complicated recipes. His love of cooking had surprised her as being a very domestic sort of thing, but he'd pointed out that cooking was very much like scientific experimentation, making trials of different combinations of ingredients and herbs and spices. That had made her laugh, but she'd acknowledged the truth of it.

 

"What's up?" she asked, dropping her pack on the nearest chair and picking up the kitten as it scampered up to her.

 

"I've been caught", he announced.

 

"Caught? Who by? What for? And what do we need to do about it?" The kitten butted its head against her chin, demanding more attention, and she started to rub the ruff of fur down its back, making it purr with pleasure.

 

"So many questions all at once", he complained. "And it should be, "by whom? and "for what?", not "who by? and "what for?". At least be grammatically correct."

 

She made a face at him. "Don't be so stuffy. Sometimes I think you're about sixty years old already."

 

"Haven't I told you before that accuracy is of vital importance?"

 

"Several million times by now, and don't tell me off for exaggerating. Don't change the subject either. What's going on?"

 

"The ISB has finally decided that my snooping around in their files has to stop. I had a nasty feeling that I might have triggered an alarm when I was rummaging around trying to get to the red-coded Protean section last week, and it looks like I was correct in my fears." He sighed.

 

"Hmm... I'm guessing there's not much we can do, right? Have they cut off your access?"

 

"Not yet, and I'm doing a full multiple server dump at the moment, mirroring everything, so I can poke around at my leisure in the data as it is now. It's running on a shielded passive link in to the usual backup routines and using one of their own servers as a proxy, so they won't have detected it. I doubt I'll be able to get any further updates, though."

 

"You'll have to keep trying", she said shrewdly. "Otherwise you know they'll know that you know that they know."

 

"Give me five minutes to figure that out."

 

"You know what I mean."

 

He grinned. "Yes. But they're going to have me out within two weeks. Seconded to CHIMPS."

 

"CHIMPS? Seriously?"

 

"The Council for Harmonisation of Interplanetary Medical and Pharmaceutical Sciences." He rolled it off his tongue with a portentous air.

 

"Umm... right." She looked as blank as she sounded and Lokin chuckled.

 

"It is actually a very useful and important organisation. Pure science, above politics, unusually for such a thing. It's a joint arrangement which is entirely neutral and has scientists from all factions working for and with it. The object is not to spread medical knowledge, though that does inevitably happen to some extent. Its true purpose is to organise and agree universal formats in which the knowledge can be more easily spread."

 

Cirean still looked blank, so he continued. "For example, all disease-causing biological entities, whether mycoplasmas, viruses, bacteria, protozoans, nematode worms, whatever, are designated by a classification in an agreed hierarchical system which is used throughout the galaxy. Any new organism that's discovered will be given a name and designation following the relevant classification system for their particular type, and that designation will be understood everywhere from the Core Worlds to the Outer Rim. Similarly with drugs; there are chemical types which are closely related and the naming conventions reflect that ..."

 

He had settled into teaching mode, and would probably have been happy to continue for some time. Cirean headed him off, not wanting to spend the next hour being lectured at. "Ok, so it's a good thing in itself, but you being transferred to it, not so much, right?"

 

He scratched his beard. "It's only a six month secondment, at least initially, but the ISB is determined never to let me back in. Perhaps you'd better listen to what I picked up when I eavesdropped on a directors' meeting this morning. There were some quite interesting points raised."

Cirean moved her pack to the floor and sat down with the kitten, which spent a few minutes trampling round and round in her lap before settling down, while Lokin switched off the holovis and set his recording to play back.

 

***

 

"You're right, that was interesting. Do you know who they all are?”

 

“Yes, though names aren't important. It's the Research Direction and Security Oversight committee. They have a regular meeting on which I eavesdrop. It's been convenient sometimes, giving me pointers as to where I should look next.”

 

She nodded. “So tell me about these eugenics programmes. You've mentioned them before, but I don't know any of the details."

 

"Keeper One has everything I know, and presumably Forty-nine as well, but it would probably be a good idea to tell you as well. I'll tell CJ to make dinner. Anything you fancy in particular?"

 

She shook her head. "Nope, I'm happy to leave all catering to you. Even if some of the experiments are a bit weird."

 

"I've never made you ill."

 

"Yet." She grinnned. "It was a close-run thing with that Rylothian spice a few weeks ago that tasted more like ten-day-old sweaty socks than anything else."

 

"And when have you ever eaten ten-day-old sweaty socks with which to compare it? I thought it added some much needed interest to the bland sweetness of the orokeet-egg custard."

 

"It added something, that's for sure. Whatever, please don't repeat it."

 

"Noted." He vanished into the kitchen for a few minutes and she stroked the kitten peacefully while it purred contentedly.

 

"Need to find a name for you", she said to it. "Can't go on calling you Kitten forever. Do you think Eckard would be upset if I named you after him?"

 

"Yes, he would", Lokin said as he came out of the kitchen again. "For one thing, it's female, and for another, I would never know which of us you were talking to."

 

""It's" female?", Cirean asked mischievously. "What was that you were saying about accuracy?"

 

He scratched his beard and looked at her severely, but she only giggled.

 

Evidently deciding not to follow up on the matter, he sat down again in the chair opposite her.

 

"So ... eugenics. There's always been a group in Protean with that name, but mostly they seemed to be more into cloning than anything else. However, I became aware several years ago that they were accessing and using some of my gene splicing work, so I've been keeping a close eye on them as much as I can."

 

He looked over at the light sculpture. "Incidentally, that's a representation of my first successfully spliced genetic material beyond the bacterial stage. A short segment of annelid worm DNA with some of the structural proteins."

 

"Oh, I did sort of wonder what it was. I just forgot to ask." She pondered for a moment. "Worm ... ok, I don't like it quite so much now."

 

He rolled his eyes. "Never mind then. Back to Eugenics.”

“What they have been trying to do is breed people with specific characteristics. Slaves with high strength and dexterity but low intelligence, for instance. Fearless and totally loyal soldiers. Pilots with super-fast reaction times. Healthcare workers with guaranteed compassion and empathy plus extremely high infection resistance.”

 

Cirean's eyes were widening as she listened. “Is that actually possible? I mean, designing people exactly the way you want them?”

 

“With physical characteristics, it's actually quite easy now. There are a lot of interacting genes, but we have them pretty well mapped. Environmental factors remain vitally important, of course; you can design someone to be six feet tall and heavily muscled, but if they're kept half starved and never allowed to exercise, it won't happen. Mental characteristics are much trickier. We have some fairly good ideas on how we can predispose a person to be one thing or another, but their upbringing will have to be carefully controlled, probably with a lot of subtle or not-so-subtle education and indoctrination.”

 

She shivered involuntarily. "I don't like the sound of that. How horrible it would be to know that you'd been designed and controlled your whole life.”

 

Lokin shrugged. “I imagine a lot of the indoctrination would be to make you satisfied with who you were and why. I haven't taken a great deal of interest in the psych area of this, not my field of expertise.”

 

“Yeah, figures, I guess. Go on.”

 

“Incidentally, one interesting thing I found out: loyalty is surprisingly close to the biological process of addiction. A lot of the reward pathways in the brain, dopamine release into the nucleus accumbens with subsequent modification of the receptors on the affected neurons and the acetylcholinergic ….”

 

“Enough!” Cirean interrupted.

 

He sighed elaborately. “It's a good job someone is interested in the science behind this.”

 

“Yeah yeah, get back to Eugenics, what else are they doing?”

 

"This part you will definitely not like. Imperial Intelligence has several long term projects. These are the ones I've been targeting specifically, for obvious reasons. They are definitely trying to produce perfect Watchers, I found and decrypted the specification. Built-in unbreakable loyalty, a high capacity to process and analyse multifactorial data streams simultaneously, long concentration spans, a combination of extreme attention to detail with the facilty also to take a broad overview of a project or mission. All that and still retaining sufficient interpersonal skills to work with the Agents they oversee. I believe their first successful breeding is very close, probably within the next year or two."

 

Cirean made a face. “That's scary. I wonder what it would be like trying to work with one of them."

 

"Challenging, I suspect, but it will be a couple of decades at least before they're introduced. With luck, we'll have retired. There is a similar project for designer Agents, but in my opinion we need more of a maverick streak, the ability to think outside the box, not just as programmed. It involved enhanced physical characteristics as well as mental. As I said, physical is easier, but the loyalty aspect is no doubt the most appealing one to our overlords. The intention is to make us loyal to the Sith first, Intelligence afterwards. Keeper One did a lot of subtle arguing against it without seeming to oppose it openly, but the current one is all for it, naturally."

 

"She would be." Cirean sighed. "I avoid her as much as possible. She might look human but I swear she has red tape in her veins, not blood. And I'm certain everything gets back to Darth Vengean."

 

"That is why she's there. I don't know what Keeper One's plans are for her, if he has any."

 

"Me neither, Forty-nine hasn't said anything, but I hope they're working on it. What else are Eugenics doing?"

 

He rubbed his beard. "There are some Sith with personal projects going on, I've picked up a few names. I asssume that's what was meant by “exclusive projects”. Vengean's name doesn't appear anywhere that I can find, but Baras is one of whom I took note, as he's Vengean's apprentice. Whatever he's doing may well be his master's work. There are several others too, some connected to Vengean, some not. Darth Jadus is another name that appeared several times. I have full notes stored away but no details yet, because those projects are all in the red-coded files."

 

"If anything happens to you, can someone else get these notes? And the data dump you're doing?"

 

"I did give Keeper One and Forty-nine everything from the safe house on Alderaan. They have access to it, and I update the databank every week or so. But if anything happened to Alderaan ... " He shrugged.

 

"Like what?"

 

"I don't know. Full scale war obliterating the surface, perhaps. In any case, I've been thinking that I should set up a few other safe houses. Backups of data, places to hide out if we should ever need them."

 

She nodded. "Good idea. Want some help?"

 

"I was hoping you would say that." He smiled. "Start thinking of some holiday destinations for the next few years."

There will now be a hiatus of some weeks or months in Lokin's journey to the rakghoul side while I get this story up to the point where they coincide

(A year or so later)

 

It was quite late. Lokin was out, and Cirean was lounging on the couch watching a rerun on the holovis of what she thought was a remarkably silly drama called Ghost Man. Ostensibly it was portraying an Imperial Intelligence Agent, who was more or less sleeping his way around the galaxy, in between getting beaten to a pulp at least once every episode, defeating various cardboard cutout cartoonish villians, and using a lot of highly unlikely gadgets in ridiculously improbable situations. Still, it passed the time, the cat was happily warm and comfortable on her lap, and she couldn't be bothered to get up and change the channel.

 

When the entrance request alarm pinged, it startled her so much that she literally jumped. The cat leapt to the floor and scooted across the room, coming back to stare at her with wide reproachful eyes. "Sorry catkin", she told it as she went to look at the external holocam. "I wasn't expecting that, but it's probably time I got up and fed you anyway."

 

To her surprise, it was Forty-nine. She opened the outside door for him and authorised the lift, and was waiting for him with a smile at the door of the apartment. "Come on in, I'll put some coffee on, if you want it? Or something stronger? Eckard's acquired some more genuine 20-year-old Corellian whisky, I don't ask too many questions." She grinned.

 

"No, well, yes, maybe." He looked preoccupied. "The whisky sounds good, actually."

 

"Whisky it is then, go find a seat."

 

Instead, he followed her into the kitchen. "I was hoping to see Eckard, looks like he's not around."

 

"Nah, out with his latest, some Ratattaki girl he picked up cheating at pazaak in the Green Rose Casino. He's developed a taste for the exotic recently, I think. It was a Twi'lek last month, but I think the lekku confused him a bit, they take some practice. He even tried a Chiss he knew from the ISB, but she froze him out before he got past first base, as it were. He's been bored stupid ever since he got back from his CHIMPS stuff."

 

She handed the glass of whisky to Forty-nine, and headed back into the living room. Forty-nine took it with an automatic "Thank you" but a worried frown.

 

"What's up? Must be serious if Eckard's bizarre amorous adventures aren't even making you smile. Come on, sit down and tell Aunty Cirean all about it." She grinned and patted the seat next to her on the couch.

 

"Aunty? That wasn't at all how I thought of you." He sat down, not next to Cirean, but in a chair opposite her instead.

 

She tried to pretended that she hadn't felt a warm happy glow at that remark and stayed practical. "Well, explain anyway." She sipped her own whisky, she wasn't going to miss out on sharing the hospitality.

 

"I suppose I can explain again to Eckard when he comes back. Although, will he come back? And with or without his Ratattaki?"

 

"Yeah, he'll be back, and without her. He's too paranoid to spend entire nights with anyone he doesn't actually know. I've no idea why he's trying these relationships anyway." She shrugged.

 

"Maybe trying to make you jealous?"

 

"Make me jealous?! Why on Kaas would he ... oh ..." She trailed off. "Surely not. He's never, well, at least, I didn't think ..."

 

"I thought I noticed something, once or twice. You both seem very close, actually. I mean, sharing the apartment for so long, it's hard not to wonder why he lets you stay here, given his paranoia."

 

"We worked together a long time. Did a lot of growing up together, you know? But just brother and sister, nothing more than that."

 

"Really?" If anything, Forty-nine seemed even more dejected and Cirean's heart sank a bit.

 

"He doesn't like me much, you know." He was leaning forward, stroking the cat which was ecstatically winding round his legs, and not looking at her. "I thought part of that might be our friendship, you and me. That he was a bit jealous."

 

Cirean's heart rebounded somewhat.

 

Forty-nine continued, "Either way, I don't think he thinks us being friends is a good thing, though. That you're just using me as a substitute for Twelve, and if I had any decency I'd leave you in peace to ... I don't know, get over him." He sipped some more whisky. "But I ... well... I started to see what Twelve saw in you. He used to talk about you a lot, you know? I never believed any woman could be quite that perfect." He gave a faint grin, but still not looking at her.

 

Cirean was feeling something like a helium-filled balloon by this point.

 

"But anyway, there's no point now. I came to say goodbye, mostly."

 

The balloon turned to lead and crashed through the floor. She stared at him, stricken.

Edit note: changed vine cat to nekarr, after realising that vine cats don't have fur

And are not cute by any stretch of the imagination.

 

I've been taking a break from fanfic for a while but I'm back and still loving the story!

And are not cute by any stretch of the imagination.

 

Baby anything is cute! Including really ugly things like warthogs and komodo dragons *nodnod* And I've never seen a baby rancor but I bet even that would still be cute. (Talking of babies, I don't especially want a varactyl to ride, but I was totally entranced by the baby varactyls on Belsavis. I really really hope they come out as pets eventually )

The only sound for a moment was the cat purring loudly, but then it suddenly stopped and bounded over to the door, which opened and Lokin walked in.

 

He looked at Cirean and Forty-nine with raised eyebrows. "Do I detect some sort of atmosphere in here? I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

 

"Nothing much, we were just chatting and waiting for you to come back", Cirean announced as brightly as she could, which wasn't very. "I'll get you some of your whisky, we've been enjoying it."

 

"How generous of you", said Lokin ironically, as she vanished into the kitchen and returned with the bottle and another glass. He stripped off the casual jacket he was wearing (carefully tailored to hide the blaster pistol and vibroknife in his chest holsters) and dropped it over the back of a chair before sitting down. Forty-nine gulped down the rest of his whisky and held his glass out hopefully for a refill when Cirean came back.

 

She obliged after giving a glassful to Lokin and and then topped her own up.

 

"So ... what happened with the Ratattaki?" enquired Forty-nine. "Cirean has been telling me some of your recent history."

 

"Has she indeed?" Lokin turned a satirical eye on Cirean, who squirmed a bit. He looked back at Forty-nine. "She offered to give me a deep healing massage to align my chakras, but as she was proposing to use latefynn oil, I told her my chakras were as aligned as they needed to be, and left."

 

"What oil?" asked Cirean.

 

"Latefynn. It's absorbed through the skin, has pain killing properties, but more to the point, produces a pleasant feeling of lassitude and warmth, progressing to total unconsciousness which can last for an hour or so. Or permanently, depending on the dose. It used to be used as an anaesthetic in some cultures."

 

"It evidently pays to have specialist knowledge from time to time." Forty-nine smiled. "Actually, that's what I came to talk to you about, more or less."

 

"You want my specialist knowledge?" Lokin rubbed his beard. "From what abstruse medical problem are you suffering?"

 

"Nothing like that, fortunately. I'd only just got here, really, I hadn't got around to explaining the reason for my visit yet. I've just come from a meeting with Keeper. She called me in to inform me that I would not be promoted to Watcher next month, instead my expertise was needed out in the field and I was being reassigned to field agent status, effective immediately. I'll be offworld in two days." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "Well, tomorrow, since it's now after midnight."

 

Cirean was keeping quiet and sipping her whisky, but felt a tiny spark of hope emerge. Maybe he wasn't saying goodbye specifically to her in that sort of way, only that he was going off planet.

 

Lokin frowned. "That is both sudden and suspicious. Any idea what led up to it? Is that what you want me for, to go snooping around and find out?"

 

"Actually no, I've alerted Keeper One and he's handling that. When Keeper told me about the reassignment and the mission, I requested technical support, preferably a Fixer but a junior Agent would do. She told me, and I thought I detected a hint of satisfied gloating, that there were no available Agents or Fixers on the active books and no-one else who could be reassigned on such short notice, therefore I would have to work on a solo basis."

 

Lokin frowned again. "Setting you up to fail, or even suffer a fatal outcome, do you think?"

 

Forty-nine nodded. "It certainly feels that way." He took a gulp of whisky and a deep breath. "But you aren't on the active books, even though you're still a registered Fixer. So, I realise it's short notice, and you may not want to do it, but this would be a way of getting you back to active status. If you were willing to work with me."

 

Lokin set his barely-touched whisky down on the table and steepled his fingers thoughtfully. "I see. The proposition is certainly tempting. Pros and cons ..." He let the silence drag on for a minute, then looked over at Cirean. "It looks as though you will be looking after the apartment again for a while. Don't hold any wild parties while I'm gone."

 

"Excellent." Forty-nine looked relieved. Cirean let her breath out, not even having realised she was holding it until then.

 

"I'm very grateful, Eckard, I mean that. I'll meet you at HQ tomorrow morning to go through the mission and sort out the formalities of reactivating you. Also to requisition anything we need and can actually get in a single day." He smiled wryly. "And, by the way, I'm no longer Minder Forty-nine, obviously. I'm now Agent Creag Liath."

 

"Is that your real name?" asked Cirean curiously.

 

"It's the one I'm using." He smiled. "I'll see you both tomorrow ... I mean, later today. Good night for now, I can see myself out."

And I've never seen a baby rancor but I bet even that would still be cute.

http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--cI2Z0x9T2w/T9P2lMVEzkI/AAAAAAAAJgs/rWbchHPwvkE/s1000/img-cg_baby_rancor.jpg

 

Read all 16 pages of this last night, couldn't put it down. Absolutely love it!

 

MOAR MOAR MOAR!!!

http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--cI2Z0x9T2w/T9P2lMVEzkI/AAAAAAAAJgs/rWbchHPwvkE/s1000/img-cg_baby_rancor.jpg

 

Aw, such a cute widdle itchy kitchy *tickles rancor under chin, draws back a bloody stump*

 

This is your fault, BBB.

 

(EDIT: Really? "coo*hie" is a forbidden word? Seriously, guys.)

Edited August 26, 2013 by Adwynyth

http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--cI2Z0x9T2w/T9P2lMVEzkI/AAAAAAAAJgs/rWbchHPwvkE/s1000/img-cg_baby_rancor.jpg

 

Ha ha ha that's brilliant I said it would be cute! *admires from safe distance and eyes Adwynyth* I didn't say it would act cute.

Read all 16 pages of this last night, couldn't put it down. Absolutely love it!

 

MOAR MOAR MOAR!!!

Thanks, glad you like it There's plenty more but it's taking me a while to write it up, very busy in real life at the moment.

They were back at the apartment, and had finished going over the mission parameters for the third time to make sure they'd got everything clear. It looked likely to be quite challenging for the pair of them; a solo agent would have been very unlikely to pull it off.

 

"It certainly appears that she was plotting your untimely demise", observed Lokin, as he made some final notes about the Republic security protocols on his datapad. "You know, I have to wonder now about Twelve's death. It was convenient, in its timing."

 

The newly renamed Agent Liath looked away with a distant expression. "For all paranoia can be a useful outlook, I don't believe it was anything other than it appeared." He looked back at Lokin. "I wonder more about who's putting her up to it and what she'll do when she finds out about me co-opting you."

 

"Mmm ... the latter could be interesting. She might resurrect Keeper One's disciplinary action, I wondered whether that might come back to bite me one day."

 

Liath shook his head. "No, he thought of that long since. The records show your second probationary period was reviewed after two years as scheduled, and rescinded, but you were kept in the ISB because you were doing more useful work there. That's why there wasn't any problem reactivating you."

 

"You mean I've been worrying about probationary status all these years and I didn't need to?" asked Lokin with some indignation.

 

"Be honest, were you seriously worrying about it?"

 

"Actually no, it never crossed my mind", Lokin admitted. "Except for when I was feeling annoyed with Keeper One, and then it wasn't so much the status that bothered me."

 

Liath grinned. "I think he enjoys annoying and confusing people as much as the rest of us do."

 

"I believe it's part of an agent's job description. Or if not, it should be."

 

"I wouldn't disagree, but only up to a point. There comes a time when professionalism is required. I have no qualms on that point about you, by the way. Annoying as you can be at times, you're a consummate professional underneath."

 

Lokin rubbed his beard. "Does that work out to a compliment?"

 

"It was meant to be."

 

Lokin rose from his seat and bowed with a flourish. "Then I shall accept it graciously, thank you."

 

Liath grinned as Lokin sat down again. "Then I thank you for your thanks. Seriously, I am very glad to have your support in this. I've had the feeling you wanted to get back into active service for a while. I hope you'll see it as a small repayment for all you've done for us - for the conspiracy, Keeper One, Twelve, particularly for Cirean."

 

Lokin gave him a slightly sharp look at the mention of Cirean's name, but let it pass. "I admit that I have missed it, despite my research opportunities. I found plenty to occupy myself, including the fun of hacking the ISB nets, but it was strange for a while, not living constantly on the edge. The sort of thing you don't notice until it's not there any more."

 

Liath nodded. "I know exactly what you mean. Going back to Minder after being an Agent was almost harder to cope with than being an Agent." He smiled wryly. "Different people cope in different ways. Long term stress can have strange effects."

 

"You sound as though you have personal experience."

 

"As a Minder, I've seen several Agents go through it, including one that I trained with. I'm sure you've seen some of the same. Alcoholism, self-harming, violence, drug addiction, sex addiction. I saw Twelve change. So did Cirean."

 

The invitation was open. Lokin took it. "Change in what way?"

 

"If I tell you, it has to be in strictest confidence. That includes everyone, it goes no further than the two of us. Even Cirean ... if she ever wants to talk about it, that's up to her, but you will not tell her that we've spoken about it."

 

"You have my word."

 

Liath nodded. "All right then. In public, on the job, he always maintained his humour, his professionalism. In private, he became ... abusive. Very hard to get along with. The Mandalorian incident brought it to a head, but it had started before that. Cirean hoped - and so did I and the rest of the family, for that matter - hoped that, once he'd retired from active service, he'd recover and get back to normal. Or as normal as we can ever be." A brief twisted smile. "But they'd already started to drift apart. A lot of her grief got mixed up with guilt, that she hadn't helped him enough. She still loved him, but she was finding it increasingly hard to like him."

 

Lokin was frowning deeply. "Abusive? In what way?"

 

"Oh, he never hurt her, not physically, if that's what you're asking. No, it was purely verbal abuse. Shouting, ranting, swearing, unreasonable accusations, quarrelling about the slightest thing. Letting out all his frustration and stress and anger on her, and his family."

 

Lokin was shaking his head, almost in disbelief. "I noticed nothing. Apart from that he'd acquired some new and interesting swear words in exotic languages, but ... I had no idea. I wish I'd known."

 

"What could you have done about it?"

 

"At the very least I could have offered them both more support. Or used my medical contacts to get Twelve some discreet and effective psychiatric help."

 

Liath shrugged. "Do you really think he would have accepted help? Or that it would have worked? The studies don't suggest much efficacy for interventions. And Cirean wanted to shield him from further stress, she didn't want anyone to know."

 

"And yet she talked to you about it." Not quite an accusation, but a hint of hostility.

 

"No, I talked to her. I told her how he'd been behaving with the family, and she told me then that he'd been the same with her." He hesitated for a moment. "Incidentally, she also told me that your rock-solid support over Twelve's death and since had been very important to her. That you would always be the first person she'd think of going to if she was in trouble."

 

"She thinks of me as her big brother." Lokin gave a rueful grimace.

 

"But you would like it to be more than that." A statement, not a question.

 

Lokin was silent.

 

"Eckard, it's important. We need to get this cleared between us. We're not going to be an effective team if we have built-up resentments and lack of trust hanging over us. I know you've had ... misgivings ... about my friendship with Cirean."

 

"She'll be home fairly shortly."

 

Liath glanced at the clock. "Good point, I'll divert her."

 

He made a quick holocall to a restaurant roughly midway between Intelligence HQ and Lokin's apartment which specialised in exotic fruits and was one of Cirean's favourites, then called her.

 

"Hey, thought the three of us should go out tonight, farewell feast and all that. I've got us a reservation for seven o'clock at A Force for Peach, that all right with you?"

 

"Oh, great idea, how did you know I was just dreaming about their jewel-fruit sorbet?! I wouldn't say no to a nice large prisht and liwi salad either. I'm starving, I missed lunch because one of my Agents needed his hand held." The holoimage rolled its eyes expressively. "I'll go straight from here, no point coming all the way home and then heading back this way again."

 

"See you later then." He waved at the holoimage which waved back, and then turned it off.

 

"Very smooth", said Lokin admiringly.

 

"And now we have an hour or so to talk this through."

Aw, such a cute widdle itchy kitchy *tickles rancor under chin, draws back a bloody stump*

 

This is your fault, BBB.

 

(EDIT: Really? "coo*hie" is a forbidden word? Seriously, guys.)

 

Darth Baras: What his REAL baby food was.....

 

Btw, Lokin DEFINES Magnificent Bastard....

Edited September 4, 2013 by Xakthul

Darth Baras: What his REAL baby food was.....

Darth Baras ate baby rancors?

*thinks*

Actually, that sounds possible ....

 

Btw, Lokin DEFINES Magnificent Bastard....

He comes pretty close, but he's trumped by Keeper One who is even more magnificent and bastardy (bastardish?), at least in my head

 

------------

 

I have so neglected this place recently, and I have a huge amount to catch up on and stories to read. Apologies to those of you hoping for more of this. Here's the first bit of more, but I'm finally getting away on holiday on Friday, so there may not be any more more for another couple of weeks. Real life has been insanely busy, not helped by breaking my foot at the beginning of September However, fortunately I'm mended and getting back on an even keel again I've missed this *hugs all stories passionately*

"So." Lokin looked at Liath.

 

"I've started, so I'll have to finish." Liath gave him a half smile, half grimace. "You radiate jealousy whenever you and I and Cirean are together. She hasn't noticed, but I have."

 

"I must be slipping. I thought I had things well under wraps."

 

"I'm probably unduly sensitive. Believe me, I only want what's best for Cirean. If it's humanly possible, I'll do nothing to hurt her, ever. If she decides she wants you, then she's yours. I might not like it, but her happiness is more important to me."

 

"She won't." Lokin sighed. "I realised that a long time ago. I never resented her being with Twelve, but after he died ..." He shrugged.

 

"You thought you might have a chance, and then I came along."

 

"Something like that", Lokin admitted.

 

"She's told me many times about your kindness to her. How you took her in, looked after her while she sorted herself out, even had the apartment redecorated for her. You made this place a safe port for any storm, as far as she's concerned."

 

"It was only the guest room that was redecorated. And in any case, it needed it. You should have seen the cobwebs. I swear some of the spiders were close to evolving language skills."

 

"Funny, but don't change the subject." Liath looked down at the cat, which was butting its head against his legs and demanding attention. He picked it up and let it settle itself on his lap, using the time to choose his words. "I suppose you're going to be angry now for not seeing any of this and that we kept you in the dark?"

 

Lokin nodded. "With myself, certainly. As a medic I'm supposed to be able to spot these things, but I never was much good at the psychology and empathic skills."

 

"Don't be ashamed of yourself. He hid it very well, except from those he was closest to. If it's any consolation, even Keeper One didn't know. At least, I don't think so, but it's hard to tell with him sometimes."

 

Lokin grimaced. "And I thought we were close friends."

 

"You were, don't doubt that. Consider what he left you in his will. Those were things that he would never have passed on to anyone he didn't like, or trust, or rely on ... I'm sure the rages would eventually have come your way, if he'd lived longer and you'd met more often. They were becoming more frequent, and worse. We tried to get him to retire sooner, but there was always one more job, one more new Agent to be trained." Liath shrugged. "I don't think there was anything more you could have done than we already tried."

 

He looked down at the cat and stroked it a few times as it purred contentedly, apparently oblivious to the tension. "The point of all this is that, like I said, there was already a separation developing between Cirean and Twelve. She still loved him, and he loved her, but he couldn't help the rages and she couldn't handle them. Fortunately their last communication just before he died was good, with him having taken the decision to retire. They both hoped that things would settle down and they could work on being together again."

 

"Well, this does explain quite a lot. I suppose that, when she met you, you were a non-scary version of Twelve and she could talk to you about her guilt and grief, whereas she could not talk to me about that." Lokin rubbed at his beard, frowning thoughtfully. "I really need to work more on psychology. I doubt the empathy will ever occur, but observationally, at least, I may reach a point where I can draw a few conclusions." He smiled ruefully.

 

"Don't be hard on yourself. More to the point, do you understand now where I'm coming from, and can we work together without me worrying about arsenic in my coffee?"

 

Lokin raised his eyebrows. "That is not something you should have worried about in any case. I would never choose such a clumsy and obvious method of murder."

 

Liath grinned. "You know what I mean."

 

"Yes. And yes, there will be no arsenic in your coffee or other noxious substances in any foodstuff. Or, at least, if there are, not from me." He sighed and looked resigned. "I suppose I should thank you for explaining. And I will accept your relationship and not resent it, as long as you understand that if you ever harm Cirean, your death will come so swiftly you will not even be aware of it." It was plain that he was only half joking.

 

"Melodramatic." Liath chuckled but looked relieved. "I swear you'll never have cause, but I wouldn't have it any other way." He picked the cat up from his lap and dropped it gently to the floor again, ignoring its squeak of protest at the disturbance. Standing up, he offered his hand to Lokin, who also stood and shook it firmly. The two men nodded to each other.

 

"We're allied and agreed then, I'm glad of that", said Liath. "You're a good friend to both of us and I appreciate it. Let's go and find Cirean and get something to eat."

Darth Baras ate baby rancors?

*thinks*

Actually, that sounds possible ....

 

I could tell you he was eating planets and it would sound possible.

 

Nice on on the arsenic line "I would never use so clumsy a method"

 

______________________________________________________

 

I feel your pain on the leg troubles, as I broke my wrist last week.

 

Feel better

I could tell you he was eating planets and it would sound possible.

You're not wrong

 

I feel your pain on the leg troubles, as I broke my wrist last week.

 

Feel better

Ack, really sorry to hear that. Hope it mends fast.

"Err... I'm sorry sir, you can't go in there. Possible security breach, the whole area's in lockdown."

 

Lokin, freshly shaved and with a number of cosmetic enhancements designed to make him look at least ten years younger than he was, and dressed in a junior Ensign's uniform, was standing on guard with two Imperial Marines outside the entrance to the main computer section on the Engineering deck of the Black Raptor, a newly re-commissioned warship orbiting Dromund Kaas. Inside, Liath was busily installing (hopefully) undetectable tracers in as many systems as possible. A chance remark overheard by Rubh'an at the Korriban Academy had suggested that the ship was going to be used by Darth Vengean directly, possibly as his own personal flagship, and a quick check by Keeper One and Cirean had revealed that all the Imperial Intelligence operatives assigned to it were bought and paid for by the Ministry of War.

 

The female officer, a large, handsome and imposing woman of around forty years old, glared at him. "I am Major-General Lett-Shara, in command of the military contingent on this ship. I go where I wish."

 

Lokin squared his shoulders resolutely. "If it was the Captain himself I couldn't let him in, sir. I have my orders."

 

"Assertive, hmm?" Major-General Lett-Shara looked him up and down.

 

In his role as junior Ensign, Lokin swallowed and tugged at his collar, looking nervous, embarrassed and resolutely defiant all at the same time. The embarrassment became more marked, as he realised that the appraisal was becoming frankly admiring.

 

"I like assertive young men, and ones who can follow orders." Major-General Lett-Shara continued her admiring look.

 

The two Marines stared straight ahead, expressions wooden, but Lokin was certain he could feel them laughing inside.

 

"I don't recognise you, Ensign. What's your name and when were you assigned to the Raptor?"

 

"Ensign Applecross, sir. Number 81-45782. Conscripted from Ziost. Came aboard this morning, reporting to Security Chief Culmor." He had managed to get himself to break out in a sweat now.

 

"Well, I like to get to know all the junior officers I serve with. Come along, I'm sure my Marines can keep guard on their own for a while."

 

Liath had said do whatever he needed to divert people, but this was unexpected as well as unwelcome. "Umm ... yes sir, but I was told to stay on guard here."

 

He cast an agonised look of appeal at the Marines, but both shook their heads. Trooper Clais, the older one of the two, said reassuringly, "Don't you worry sir, we'll keep the area secure for you." Bhan, the younger, nodded in agreement, his face rigidly controlled.

 

Renald, a young operative on training with himself and Liath, was laughing almost hysterically in Lokin's implanted earpiece. "Your face is a picture, Doc, I've downloaded a few holocam stills, just for the records, you understand."

 

As Lokin followed the Major-General down the passageway and into an empty conference room, he growled subvocally at Renald, who only laughed more, but considerately muted his feed after remarking that he wouldn't interrupt except for a really dire emergency.