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Sisterhood Part 10

 

Hey guys! I'm at the best part! You would have never seen any of this, or at least you would haven't seen it this good, without Kabeone. Not only did she make sure I stayed on track and kept making sense, but she helped me up when I was sitting at the bottom of a page, clueless. Thank you Kabe. I really appreciate your help and your great ideas. I added a lot of them to the story with her permission. And over all, I feel like I told a story people want to read. And that's the best kind.

 

Omg!! Morgani, this has been SUCH an amazing story! Truly! I look forward to seeing how this wraps up! Wonderful wonderful work!!

Edited by Earthmama
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Fame

 

Claim to Fame

bh - Skari & Solomon Crae

(continue from: http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=5150725&postcount=1489)

spoilers for bh Chapter 1

 

"Where's my armor?" Skari asked Solomon Crae as he hefted his bag and slung his sniper rifle across his lean, muscled back.

 

"Gone."

 

"What do you mean 'gone'? That was high quality sh*t!"

 

He shrugged. "Cut to pieces and put through an incinerator."

 

Skari's eyes narrowed. "Cut to...what kind of damn vibroknife do you use???"

 

He chuckled, the smile on his light brown face evil. "One that's good at taking things...and people...apart."

 

"Got an extra cloak or something in there?" she asked, eyeing the bag.

 

"Nope." He didn't seem at all concerned that she was wearing just a bit more than a typical dancer.

 

She scowled at him, "Guess I should be glad I still have my boots."

 

"Guess so." His slanted gold eyes twinkled in the faint light.

 

Skari shivered briefly in the chilly polluted air as they stepped out of the building, but quickly warmed up as they started walking, keeping her head high. Her face still throbbed. The bleeding had stopped, but the cuts Crae had made were going to need more treatment.

 

She glanced over at Crae from time to time. His hard profile was difficult to read. "I've heard some messed up stories..."

 

Crae shrugged, "People talk."

 

"So is any of it true?"

 

His lips quirked into half a grin, "Probably."

 

Skari's face twisted in disgust. "You know, I've killed a lot of people, but if even half of what I've heard is true, you'd make a damn Sith proud."

 

"I save my best work for people who hurt my family," he said with a sideways glance at her.

 

Skari swung around into his path, her scowl ferocious. "You want a shot at me, take it, but either we work together or we don't. Got it?"

 

"I gave you my word," he said mildly, one hand on the vibroknife tied to his leg.

 

"You sure? Cause we can f**king do this."

 

"You could probably take me in a straight fight, sweetheart, even in that outfit. Besides," he said with a mocking grin, "I like you."

 

"What a line of nerfsh*t." She started walking again.

 

"I heard one of those stories from a group of guys I used to do jobs for," she finally said after a few minutes, "Did you really set a dozen of their people on fire?"

 

"Nah, just four of them."

 

"Why the hell would you do something like that?!?"

 

He smiled, "How'd you think I found you?"

 

Thoughts of how stupid she was being bringing someone like this back with her, trusting him in any way, kept most of the catcalls and whistles that followed them from being too irritating. The more obnoxious ones usually went quiet at the sight of Skari's blasters, but the drunk with the small group of armored mercs drinking in the open area in front of one of the smaller cantinas was not so easily put off.

 

"Damn, now that's how blue should be done!"

 

Skari glared at the tall obnoxious young human who was pointing at her with his tankard. One of his compatriots was seated next to him, shaking his head and laughing. The other, seated back farther under the shadowed overhang, was silent and still. She lifted her blasters into ready stance as they passed, tired of the day. Crae glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his expression curious.

 

"Come on over here, honey, I'll show you how to use a real blas..." The drunk abruptly swore as his drink exploded in his hand. Skari raised an eyebrow, her blaster still hot from the blast.

 

The other young man burst into laughter, nearly falling off his seat as he pointed at his dumbfounded comrade who was staring at Skari's militant stance. The drunk whistled while he shook his hand, "Now that's my kind of woman!"

 

The man in the back stood, assessing her, and Skari looked straight back at him, noting the beskar armor he wore. The Mandalorian had seen quite a bit of action to judge by the blaster scars that covered half his face and extended below his collar.

 

"Don't you recognize the Mando'ad?" he said quietly to the two younger men, "Winner of the Great Hunt. Jatnese be te jatnese."

 

The two young men's eyes got very wide. The older man nodded his head in respect. "I am Tranto Jarinda. Please ignore the besom. Kaysh mirsh solus." He glared at the drunk as he walked towards her. He rolled his gaze from her booted feet to her head, his eyes appreciative, but his tone respectful. "Tion'ad hukaat'kama? This aruetii?" he asked, looking over at Crae dismissively.

 

Skari snorted, "Not him, that's for sure."

 

He nodded, humor apparent as he took in her situation. "Copaani gaan?"

 

Skari started to shake her head and then chuckled. "You don't happen to have an extra set of armor on you do you?"

 

"I'd give you my own, but it wouldn't fit," Jarinda said with a grin, taking the opportunity to openly admire her, "Perhaps..." He pointed at his pack and the semi-sober one of the two brought it over. The Mandalorian looked through and pulled out a beautiful embroidered tunic. Jewel-like red and blue designs were sewn into the gleaming white fabric.

 

"It's beautiful," Skari said, afraid to even touch the tunic as dirty as she was, "I can't take this."

 

"My sister will be no worse for lack of a gift when I return," he said, handing it to her firmly.

 

"Vor entye," Skari said sincerely, "I will have it cleaned and return it to you." She pulled it over her head, straightening the beautiful fabric which fell to her knees. "Don't think I've worn something this pretty in a long time," she said with a slight grin.

 

"Elek, come to my camp, mesh'la," Jarinda said with a sly smile as he looked at her, "perhaps we will find something to hunt." He walked back to his table and sat down, lifting his drink in a salute.

 

Skari blushed and turned to see Crae lifting his eyes. "What are you looking at?" she growled at him.

 

"Seems I'm not the only one people talk about. Mesh'la."

 

"Shut up, Crae."

 

Author's Note:

 

Translations:

beskar - Mandalorian iron

Mando'ad - Mandalorian - literally daughter of Mandalore (which is true enough considering that that's who adopted her)

Jetnese be te jetnese. - the best of the best

besom - ill-mannered lout

Kaysh mirsh solus. - He's an idiot (literally "His brain cell is lonely.") (This may be my new favorite insult, seriously.)

Tion'ad hukaat'kama? - Who's watching your back?

aruetii - outsider

Copaani gaan? - Need a hand?

Vor entye - thank you/I accept a debt

elek - yes

mesh'la - beautiful

 

By the way, I really meant Jiranda to be a throw-away character, but he may be back. I kinda like him :cool:

 

 

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@Morgani, I have reserved comment thus far, but that doesn't mean I am not fascinated by the suspense and reveal on this one. What a way to reunite those two. Also, Jorgan <3.

 

@Striges Your Quinn is no fool, and I like that. Better, he's a proper Imperial non-fool in terms of the social and self-preservation considerations. Which once again wraps back to your incredible sense for the details, the culture, and the detailed trappings of the worlds you place us in.

 

Bad Timing

I think I’m on perma block with her,” Miriah said.

 

This was good for a wicked wicked giggle. :D

 

@RepublicGurl...Qyzen Fess...messy yet hysterical. And then Blizz being awesome!

 

@Irrissa I am not the kind to go all gooey at sweet stories, but Minalde's father definitely made me go all gooey. Not only for what happened, but for him giving the account to his daughter when she needed it.

 

@iamthehoyden The one class I'm still trying to leave some details unspoiled on...naturally. I'll be back to read.

 

I am loving the variety of companions getting play this week. I'm guilty of some wildly over-the-top bingeing myself, don't think I'm not aware of it, so...it's nice to see other people's takes on the ones I'm less inspired by.

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Sisterhood Part 10

 

And, you mentioned I should make this its own thread. I'm thinking of doing just that. Not just for this, but the whole Ipha/Brei'yu continuity. I'll let everyone know how that goes, once I have time to see what a dumb idea that is.

 

 

Not Dumb.. a GREAT Idea.

 

I haven't mentioned folks by name, though I should because it heartens me a great deal when someone compliments my little ideas. and Thank You more than you can imagine for the boost it gives me.

But know I read each and every one and am so inspired and awed by each of you.

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Well, here we go, de-lurking. Nothing daunting about following up a chunk of Sisterhood, nosirree bob... *pops back Tums like candy*

 

Title: Five Minutes Later

Prompt: Bad Timing

Character: Maneera Sindri, smuggler

Timeframe: Pre-game (7 BTC)

Spoilers: None

 

 

Five minutes later, and Alen would have been gone, taken by the Robes just like they'd taken Zeezee. "How could you," Maneera screeched, knowing even as she demanded the answer that she wouldn't receive one.

 

"Maneera," her father rumbled, "please go to your room. We'll talk later." The words fell thick and slow. An older, wiser ear might have recognized the notes of restrained sorrow, but Maneera was too absorbed in her own anguish, sharpened by righteous teenaged indignation.

 

The Jedi holding Alen's hand turned, leading the boy toward the front door. Maneera surged forward, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him back to face her. "Give him back," she snarled. "You already took my sister, you don't get to take him too." For a moment, she actually thought he might consider it, but then he gave that smugly serene Jedi smile and reached out to lay a falsely comforting hand on her shoulder.

 

Five minutes later, and she wouldn't have sucker punched a Jedi. Her father wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. In a low voice that somehow cut straight through her screamed curses, he told the Jedi that perhaps he'd better go now. The Jedi nodded, herding Alen out of the Sindri home for the last time. When the Jedi had gone and her father let go, Maneera whirled to face him. "How could you?" she asked again, in the quiet, wounded tones of betrayal.

 

He tried to pull her close, draw her into a hug, but she tore herself free and stormed down the hall to her room. The bag she dug out of the back corner of her closet wasn't big, but then, she didn't have much to pack. A small handful of half-spent credsticks, the fake ID that had gotten her into the Bloated Mynock on her birthday, and pictures of Zhara and Alendar before they'd each been taken, when they'd still been her sister and brother and not the kriffing Order's dutiful little dogma-sponges. She opened the window and then, as an afterthought, ripped off the veil that hid her useless eye sockets, replacing the cloth with a pair of tinted goggles. Out the window, drop onto the sidewalk below, and out into the neon-lit Coruscant night.

 

Just five minutes later, and Maneera would still have been in her room when her father slid the door open, desperate to reach out to the only child that duty and the Force had left to him.

 

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Bad Timing: Breakthro-wait a minute never mind, Trooper Vierce again, spoiler-free. 1300 words.

 

 

 

Evening, and I was on edge. I'd just as soon not go over what memories were playing in my head. I needed to sleep, so I headed to the medbay to get that process started. Picked up a little sleepy shot, a drop of anti-anxiety stuff, brought out a little whisky – a combination that is strictly prohibited, but a guy my size doesn't necessarily notice any one factor by itself, so the combo helps – and then I headed back to my quarters, loaded up, and just had to sit around waiting for it to kick in.

 

Sergeant Dorne wandered by not long after and stopped in the doorway. Her eyes immediately went to the syringe on the nightstand. "Leftenant, our supplies appear to be down by – sir?"

 

"I was just prepping for sleep. Every now and then the shots help."

 

"Shots," she said, emphasizing the plural. "…And is that a flask?"

 

"Yes, Sergeant, it is. Minor cocktail, I've found it works." My lazy warm veins agreed with me.

 

"Sir, if you actually mixed alcohol with the deprovanatol and the grillamine, that's incredibly dangerous."

 

"Too late to stop it, doctor. Though for what it's worth, it hasn't killed me yet."

 

She gave me an exasperated look. And was almost certainly trying to work out how to yell at me without pissing me off.

 

"I'll be fine," I said. "Nights like this I don't wake up shouting, and that lets us all sleep. So anyway. Did you need something?"

 

"Yes." She brought up a datapad. Of course she had a datapad. And gave it to me. "Squad status and activity report, classification level secret. If you could confirm what I've entered and finish the summary for the last four week's activities, then sign, I'll get this submitted."

 

I frowned at the datapad. "I understand this when we're not producing concrete results, but didn't they notice what we've brought in lately? What else matters?"

 

"It's purely a formality, sir," she said nervously.

 

"I know, I know. It's just obnoxious. In my last outfit our status reports consisted of, A, getting the job done, and then B, calling up the guys next door and letting 'em know we're still alive."

 

"Your…last outfit, sir? Prior to the Republic Army?"

 

I got a slightly unpleasant feeling in my stomach, but I still felt pretty relaxed. "Yeah, I was in the resistance against the Empire on a planet called Kegled II."

 

"Ah. Your record did mention your home planet. I'm sorry, sir."

 

"Sorry? What, had you actually heard of the place?"

 

"Unfortunately yes." She looked genuinely disgusted. "Rumors, that's all, but that was enough."

 

"I see." Well, that was way past time to steer away from the subject. "So as I was saying, I never had to fill out – what is this? – Form RAR-002 for the resistance. We had a much simpler system."

 

"You had many fewer people to keep track of," she pointed out.

 

"I guess." I frowned at the datapad and scribbled an uninformative sentence so as to take up space in that wide empty status field. "Did you have to fill this stuff out at your last job?"

 

"Oh, yes, sir. Due punctually every two weeks. It was rather longer than this one. Several more detailed questions."

 

I scrolled down the entire awful questionnaire and back up. "…You're joking. Right?"

 

"No, sir."

 

Of course not. Dorne didn't joke. "How the hell did your people find time to do"…no use getting into that, so…"all the other stuff…if they were filling out some juiced-up version of this every two weeks?"

 

"Mostly by not taking time off to sleep, sir." Cool voice, straight face. I suddenly wondered whether I'd been wrong about her making jokes.

 

"So that's why you defected," I said, nodding sagely. "To slack off."

 

She blinked. "That wasn't my primary reason."

 

I started to suspect that the whisky was doing the talking for me. "Of course not. The rations must've been up there on the list, too."

 

She raised her eyebrows.

 

"For years," I explained, "half my meals were rations we stole from the local Imps. And let me tell you, the day I got off planet and found that they have real food in the Republic – even the Republic ration bars – that's the day I threw in my lot with the Republic Army and never looked back."

 

"It…certainly was a benefit, sir."

 

I had this sudden strong desire to trip that shy play of expression around her mouth and eyes into a real laugh. But I didn't have any idea how to do that. So I kept rambling instead. "So the food and the sleep schedule are big pluses, but – at least for me – the jump to the Republic Army involved a hell of a lot more paperwork than I was used to." I waved the datapad.

 

"We have a very good system here, but it can be quite convoluted."

 

"I didn't think that bothered you."

 

"Just because I can navigate it doesn't mean it came easily."

 

"And I guess you had to cram it in next to all the Imp rulebooks you already knew."

 

"I think," she said carefully, "the previous practice in memorization helped."

 

"It's useful having both tactical manuals, at least. I've noticed that sometimes, rarely, when we're out there and things go off plan I'll slide into an Imp maneuver, one of the things I learned from fighting and copying the best my people saw in the field years ago. And you pick up right away. Jorgan's studied those tactics, but you know 'em. That helps."

 

"They do seem to come readily to you."

 

My anger at that claim was distant and fuzzy. "Studying and copying Imps was how I got most of my training. Robbing Imps was how I got my supplies and gear. All to point right back at them. In some ways the Empire made me the soldier I was when I signed on for Republic basic training four years ago. Not a day goes by I don't curse them for doing it, but…that's how it ended up." I frowned. "Sorry. I'm not directing this at you. It's just, that's how I came across the Imperial tricks I know."

 

She nodded solemnly. "I've been asked on more than one occasion," she said slowly, "to give a superior a full briefing on the tactics, the hand signals and other tells that Imperial squad leaders give. And a thousand other things. Sometimes it seems I'm expected to teach the whole field manual. It's been something of a relief not to have to be that kind of resource here."

 

"No. I already know more than enough." My head was starting to gently spin; I lay down and looked back over at Dorne. "Whatever I learned, things are better here."

 

"They are," she agreed warmly.

 

"You're all right, Dorne. You're not like any of them I ever met." For one thing, she didn't shoot at me, even when I probably deserved it; for another, she appeared to have a conscience. "And Jorgan and Forex keep up with the Imp-Pub two-step pretty well."

 

"Forex I expect; he's programmed for anything. I've been very impressed with Sergeant Jorgan's performance given our occasionally unorthodox or at least non-Republic-approved tactics. May I ask how long you worked with him prior to my arrival?"

 

"Six weeks, give or take."

 

She raised her eyebrows again. "You seem to coordinate very closely for such a short acquaintance."

 

"Eh, I'm used to having mouthy brothers. My professional brother-in-arms. We get along." And then I delivered the absolute finest nonsensical overreach my brain has ever handed to me while under the influence of anything. "I've never had a sister, though. I wonder how that works?"

 

She looked surprised, incredulous, possibly halfway alarmed, but after a moment this shy sweet smile started warming away the edges of her doubt. It was something…something genuine, that's all.

 

And that's when I fell asleep.

 

 

 

Notes

 

This comes…early. Too early? I don't know when on Tatooine it is set. Anyway, he's mad stoned.

 

Completely made-up drug names. I know a guy who very nearly is Body Type 3 IRL, and his metabolism is just horrifying. The substance abuse dosages he partakes in to get the average person's baseline over-the-counter drug effect is…kind of ridiculous.

 

I'm still shamelessly misspelling "lieutenant" because that pronunciation is so damn distinctive.

 

I have a feeling Dorne knows exactly how much weight to assign to "commander is stoned off his proverbial *** from the horrible drug cocktail he mixed for himself." Still, this is his first admission that they have things in common, and that's kind of nifty.

 

I suspect that they will immediately backpedal by about a zillion miles, but she will return this confidence by finding him an anti-anxiety sedative thingy that won't kill him for the next time he decides to self-medicate.

 

 

Edited by bright_ephemera
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Well, here we go, de-lurking. Nothing daunting about following up a chunk of Sisterhood, nosirree bob... *pops back Tums like candy*

 

Title: Five Minutes Later

Prompt: Bad Timing

Character: Maneera Sindri, smuggler

Timeframe: Pre-game (7 BTC)

Spoilers: None

 

 

Five minutes later, and Alen would have been gone, taken by the Robes just like they'd taken Zeezee. "How could you," Maneera screeched, knowing even as she demanded the answer that she wouldn't receive one.

 

"Maneera," her father rumbled, "please go to your room. We'll talk later." The words fell thick and slow. An older, wiser ear might have recognized the notes of restrained sorrow, but Maneera was too absorbed in her own anguish, sharpened by righteous teenaged indignation.

 

The Jedi holding Alen's hand turned, leading the boy toward the front door. Maneera surged forward, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him back to face her. "Give him back," she snarled. "You already took my sister, you don't get to take him too." For a moment, she actually thought he might consider it, but then he gave that smugly serene Jedi smile and reached out to lay a falsely comforting hand on her shoulder.

 

Five minutes later, and she wouldn't have sucker punched a Jedi. Her father wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. In a low voice that somehow cut straight through her screamed curses, he told the Jedi that perhaps he'd better go now. The Jedi nodded, herding Alen out of the Sindri home for the last time. When the Jedi had gone and her father let go, Maneera whirled to face him. "How could you?" she asked again, in the quiet, wounded tones of betrayal.

 

He tried to pull her close, draw her into a hug, but she tore herself free and stormed down the hall to her room. The bag she dug out of the back corner of her closet wasn't big, but then, she didn't have much to pack. A small handful of half-spent credsticks, the fake ID that had gotten her into the Bloated Mynock on her birthday, and pictures of Zhara and Alendar before they'd each been taken, when they'd still been her sister and brother and not the kriffing Order's dutiful little dogma-sponges. She opened the window and then, as an afterthought, ripped off the veil that hid her useless eye sockets, replacing the cloth with a pair of tinted goggles. Out the window, drop onto the sidewalk below, and out into the neon-lit Coruscant night.

 

Just five minutes later, and Maneera would still have been in her room when her father slid the door open, desperate to reach out to the only child that duty and the Force had left to him.

 

I am...blown away. Welcome to the thread! :) I like the repetition of "just five minutes later and" as a would-have-been, and I love that she has a reason for having a fake ID on hand, and I love the descriptor "dutiful little dogma-sponges" for padawans, and I love the sharp emotional punches of knowing satisfying answers aren't coming, recognizing (or at least believing) the falseness of offered comfort, and the father's loss.

 

Also, sucker punching a Jedi.

 

Tight, neatly phrased, potent. Very, very well done. Again, welcome!

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Here we go again :)

 

Prompt: Fame

 

Featuring my agent, a bit of Kaliyo, a bit of Vector and, of course, Lokin. No story spoilers apart from a tiny spoiler for the FP "The Foundry". And again, I don't seem to be in friendly terms with the word "short". Sorry :o

 

Note:

 

 

You may have noticed that I tent to focus on Lokin mostly. Why? He does not get 'used' much and, also, there is so little that is known about him. That makes him a good character to explore. At least, for me :p

 

I tried to make the story fit in the "Fame" prompt but there is a bit of everything.

 

 

 

 

 

It had been a while since the crew had a bit of downtime. The ship was now parked in one of the hangar bays of Mezenti spaceport and Kaliyo had been all too willing to show the sights to a not so eager Ensign and before leaving, she popped in the holo room to check on the agent.

 

“You sure you don't wanna come?”

 

Lilith, who was just idling by, looked up at her “No, I'll be fine Kaliyo. Thanks” she said, smiling.

 

“Really? It will be fun...” replied the Rattataki

 

Lilith rolled her eyes “Yeah, right. Last time we had 'fun', we had to shoot our way out of the cantina.”

 

“That's the best part. And c'mon, that Houk had it comin'...calling me a cheater”

 

“You were cheating, Kaliyo”

 

“So what? Hey, if I cheat at pazaak and don't get caught, I win. If I do get caught, I get in a fight and...I win. You see, win win situation all the time. You can't go wrong with me, agent” a mischievous grin flashed on Kaliyo's face.

 

Lilith laughed

 

“You go on and show the sites to Raina. She'll need the 'training'”

 

“I'm not sure if she can take it”

 

“Doesn't that make it even more fun, Kaliyo?”

 

The grin on Kaliyo's face grew larger “I like the way you think, agent.” Then she spun around and started walking towards the airlock “See you in a bit” she said, while exiting the ship.

 

Lilith waited for the rest of the crew to depart. Scorpio had decided to explore Nar Shaddaa, something to do with gathering data on the many sentient species that lived on the planet but, somehow, she was not entirely sure it had been a good idea to unleash a fully sentient AI with a murderous tinge on a city planet.

 

A thought flashed in her head of when she had to capture the Foundry. What had that droid called her? Meatbag? Lilith wondered what would happen if that droid and Scorpio were to meet and she shuddered at the thought.

 

Lokin had gone off the ship without saying much. She had wondered many times what was behind that face. What was driving that man? There was so little she knew about him and yet, she knew better than to ask. Somehow, however, she trusted him even if he had told her multiple times not to. Lilith felt saddened for a moment, knowing that he must have led a very solitary life, always plotting the galaxy's next move, always trying to stay one step ahead of everybody else.

 

“Lilith?”

 

A familiar voice drew her attention, making her smile.

 

“There you are. I was beginning to wonder if you had gone off the ship too.”

 

Vector was standing in the doorway, green eyes flashing under the sterile neon lights of the room. “I can still leave if you wish”

 

She walked over to him and placed her arms around his neck “Maybe I can convince you to stay” she said, their eyes meeting as her hands moved slowly towards his chest

 

“I'm not sure. I was trained as a diplomat and I might be difficult to convince”

 

“Vector?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Why don't you just shut up and kiss me?”

 

They kissed, passionately. She felt her worries wash away and she did not want them to come back. She wanted to feel like this, to forget about the rest of the galaxy, abandoning everything behind and to leave with the man she loved. A console on the holo projector started to beep but they were both oblivious to it as they were swept away by their feelings.

 

As they entered the main cabin, her uniform jacket slipped from her shoulders and fell to the floor and was caught in the now closing door.

 

The console kept on beeping.

 

*****

 

Lokin had not gone far. He had never been one for social events and he would rather stay in the company of medical equipment and datapads. Yet, he did like to change the scenery from time to time, especially when he knew that the agent wanted some time alone with Vector even if she never mentioned anything of that sort.

 

He was walking around the hangar bay, his brain analysing what his eyes were seeing. He could not help it, it was part of him. An innate reflex. Always check for flaws, weak points, escape routes, potential weapons, cover zones. After all, one could never know if someone, or something, was lurking in the shadows. You had to be prepared, you always had to think at least one move ahead of your opponent.

 

He remembered his last debriefing with the agent: someone was pulling the strings from behind the curtain and she was in the firing line. This thought annoyed him and he was not sure why. Normally, every cipher agent would make enemies at one point or another. Do too many covert operations and you are bound to step on somebody's toes and it would be up to the cipher to deal with it. But he did not wish her to be harmed and the thought was new to him.

 

Why? Was it because he was seeing a younger Lokin in her? Or was it because she was like a student to him, someone who would benefit from his knowledge? Or was she something more, like a daughter he never had?

 

He stopped.

 

“Ah, Lokin, you are getting too old for this. You are becoming too sentimental” he said to no one in particular and he was glad that no one was around to hear him talking to himself.

 

That's when his inner agent snatched him from his thoughts. This was a hangar bay on Nar Shaddaa, one of the busiest places in the galaxy yet, it was empty. Suddenly, his inner alarms were going off: this was not right, too quiet.

 

His legs were now carrying him at a much quicker pace towards the main office overlooking the hangar. No workers. This was definitely not normal. There should always be workers around, checking cargo, refuelling, repairing, carrying out messages.

 

He was now running up the ramp leading to the upper level where the office was situated, hoping to find someone that could disperse the sense of urgency that was now taking hold. Finally reaching his destination, his questions were answered: two bodies were laying lifeless. One on the floor, the other across the hangar doors console.

 

“Not good” he thought. He quickly checked for the cause of death: a bullet at the back of the head. It had been quick and quiet, the work of a professional, he had no doubt about it. He checked the CCTV system: disabled. “Of course”, he said.

 

Could it really be? He rushed out of the office as he readied his blaster. His thoughts were now racing but not in a chaotic manner, he was more like a machine, information flowing through his mental processors.

 

Witnesses disposed of without drawing attention, silenced weapon. Cameras disabled, technical knowledge. No sign of an attacker, personal cloaking device. No sound produced while moving, dampening field. Result: professional assassin. Possible imperial training. Target...

 

His own analysis led him to only one possible target and she was in the ship. He wanted to rush to the airlock, as the assassin might have already breached the airlock but that proved to be more difficult than he had expected. A muffled noise followed my a sharp pain in his left shoulder, just underneath the clavicle, made him stumble and fall to the ground.

 

He crawled towards a set of crates and checked the wound. The sight of it made him smile through the pain, “You are good, but you missed” he thought. The bullet had obviously been aimed at the heart but a miscalculation of the trajectory made it land too high and too much to the left.

 

“Obviously, you are not as skilled as I thought” he whispered, gritting his teeth “You must have a vantage point. Come on Lokin, think” he continued “On top of the ship. It's the only possible position.” He thought about the upper balcony “No, too high and too far away for the calibre used. No blaster. Too much noise and visual. Small calibre weapon therefore limited range.”

 

His thoughts kept on racing but there was one that was more important than the others, she was still in the ship. He peeked around the crates, trying to catch a glimpse of the attacker but his eyes were not picking up any movement. “I can't see you but I have one trick you won't be aware of” he whispered, a cold smile creeping across his lips.

 

A ripping noise, like clothes being torn apart, followed by a loud hissing noise reverberated across the hangar. Then, silence.

 

He could see him now. He did not need eyes to do it. Pheromones were impossible to block and his opponent was now as visible as a bright light in a dark room. He quickly moved from cover to cover, waiting for the opportunity to strike. His opponent had not moved, obviously puzzled by the sudden appearance of the creature and was possibly thinking of a way to dispose of the new threat.

 

Closer. He needed to be closer. Hunger. He felt it. No, he wanted to keep control of his thoughts. The creature quickly scurried to another set of crates as the assassin dropped from the vantage point onto the ground, wanting to put an end to this unplanned event but that proved to be his undoing. As the cloaked killer appeared in full view, with incredible speed and producing an inhuman scream, the creature leaped, razor-sharp claws stretched outwards. Shots were fired but the creature did not flinch, frenzied strikes ripping bloody chunks of flesh.

 

The hunger was strong and the creature did not stop until it was sated.

 

*****

 

The bloodied figure of Lokin stumbled in the holo room. He took a moment to look at what remained of his uniform “That...that will take...one heck of an...explanation...” he said before falling heavily on the floor.

 

As his vision began to fade, he thought he had heard the agent's voice calling him.

 

*****

 

“Welcome back”

 

Lokin slowly opened his eyes. Lilith was standing next to the bed

 

“Try not to move, doc. You took one heck of a beating”

 

“Agent” he said, trying to sit up. His muscles complained under the strain and he groaned

 

“I said don't move.” she said as she gently but firmly pushed him down again.

 

“Agent...” he continued “...there was...”

 

“I know, doc” She paused for a moment “We found the...remains...of someone”

 

“I had to stop..” he was tired, he wanted to rest but he had to warn her “...someone wants you...”

 

“Dead?” she finished the sentence for him

 

She knew and that was all that mattered. Mission accomplished, he could rest now. He closed his eyes and slipped into a deep sleep.

 

“Rest now, doc. You've earned it”

 

*****

 

“You got my message?” the holographic image of a woman dressed as a high ranking imperial officer was looking at Lilith

 

“Yes. Thank you, Keeper.”

 

“I cannot stay on for long on this frequency. Expect more to come”

 

“Why?” Lilith asked the image

 

“Why?”

 

“Why someone would send trained assassins after me?”

 

“I cannot answer that question yet, agent.”

 

She sighed as, once again, the troubles of being a cipher agent caught up with her. “Why me? Why me, Keeper?”

 

The image of Keeper waited, then replied “I guess it's the price to pay for being famous, agent...or notorious. Keeper, out” the image flickered then vanished.

 

Lilith smiled “That's not the idea of fame I had in mind, Keeper. Not at all”

 

 

Edited by Selentar
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Well, here we go, de-lurking. Nothing daunting about following up a chunk of Sisterhood, nosirree bob... *pops back Tums like candy*

 

Title: Five Minutes Later

Prompt: Bad Timing

Character: Maneera Sindri, smuggler

Timeframe: Pre-game (7 BTC)

Spoilers: None

 

 

Five minutes later, and Alen would have been gone, taken by the Robes just like they'd taken Zeezee. "How could you," Maneera screeched, knowing even as she demanded the answer that she wouldn't receive one.

 

"Maneera," her father rumbled, "please go to your room. We'll talk later." The words fell thick and slow. An older, wiser ear might have recognized the notes of restrained sorrow, but Maneera was too absorbed in her own anguish, sharpened by righteous teenaged indignation.

 

The Jedi holding Alen's hand turned, leading the boy toward the front door. Maneera surged forward, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him back to face her. "Give him back," she snarled. "You already took my sister, you don't get to take him too." For a moment, she actually thought he might consider it, but then he gave that smugly serene Jedi smile and reached out to lay a falsely comforting hand on her shoulder.

 

Five minutes later, and she wouldn't have sucker punched a Jedi. Her father wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. In a low voice that somehow cut straight through her screamed curses, he told the Jedi that perhaps he'd better go now. The Jedi nodded, herding Alen out of the Sindri home for the last time. When the Jedi had gone and her father let go, Maneera whirled to face him. "How could you?" she asked again, in the quiet, wounded tones of betrayal.

 

He tried to pull her close, draw her into a hug, but she tore herself free and stormed down the hall to her room. The bag she dug out of the back corner of her closet wasn't big, but then, she didn't have much to pack. A small handful of half-spent credsticks, the fake ID that had gotten her into the Bloated Mynock on her birthday, and pictures of Zhara and Alendar before they'd each been taken, when they'd still been her sister and brother and not the kriffing Order's dutiful little dogma-sponges. She opened the window and then, as an afterthought, ripped off the veil that hid her useless eye sockets, replacing the cloth with a pair of tinted goggles. Out the window, drop onto the sidewalk below, and out into the neon-lit Coruscant night.

 

Just five minutes later, and Maneera would still have been in her room when her father slid the door open, desperate to reach out to the only child that duty and the Force had left to him.

 

I for one am glad you de-lurked. Just lovely. Looking forward to more

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eeee, Kabe, this is great!

 

 

I wanted a coda for Vierce's Bad Timing, even though this segment itself doesn't have any inherently bad timing.

 

 

 

I was sort of hoping Dorne would be gone forever when I got up that morning, but no, she was in the mess for breakfast as usual.

 

"Look, Sergeant," I told her by way of greeting. "I apologize if I was out of line last night. I was...a little out of it."

 

"It's all right, sir. Given the combination of injections you gave yourself I'm not surprised you were off balance. I am somewhat surprised you are still breathing."

 

"I told you, I've done it before. Let's not go over it. I just, I really didn't mean to–"

 

"You didn't, sir."

 

"Right. Good." I still felt vaguely like I owed her something. "I'm not saying you're not all right."

 

"Of course not," she agreed anxiously.

 

"I just, obviously," and here I was stumbling all over the place and needed something to decide on. Maybe something that made me stop feeling like an absolute liar for what loopy-me had said. "Obviously, as part of the squad like we talked about...would you be up for dinner tonight with the rest of us down at the cantina?"

 

"Oh," she squeaked. "I–I'm afraid I'll be busy, sir. Plenty of reading to keep up with."

 

"Okay. Just thought I'd ask." My feet finally agreed to participate in the retreat my brain was yelling for.

 

Jorgan pushed away from the wall outside and fell in step with me. "That," he said, "was the single most interesting exchange I've heard all week. 'Last night'?"

 

"Quiet, you," I said. "I had some adventures in tranquilizers, that's all."

 

"Oh, she finally caught you at it? It's a stupid way to die, but I guess you'll die well-rested."

 

"I'm not going to die. Not like that, anyway."

 

"In fact you're healthy enough to ask her out to dinner?"

 

I continued toward my quarters. "Don't even start. It's with the squad. Like you insisted."

 

"What the hell happened last night?"

 

"We talked about you, smart*ss." It was true, too.

 

Jorgan squinted at me for a while. "I did not expect the desert to get to you this fast," he said at last.

 

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm delicate like that. Now excuse me while I go curl up and die." I made to shut him out of my room.

 

"Uh, sir? We have a work day first."

 

"Dammit!" He was right, of course. And I was badly off balance. Again. "This is her fault."

 

"And I see we're already past the apology part of the Dorne cycle."

 

"Let's just go find something to shoot."

 

 

 

Edited by bright_ephemera
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So the above posts are my first attempt to format the stories in a timeline format. Thank you to Striges, bright_ephemera and iamthehoyden for sending me lists :) I may still have messed up though so let me know.

 

I chose to go with chronology by character because it took fewer characters to have a link show up twice than it did to indicate the names of OCs next to every thread. Most OC's don't blend timelines clearly so it was difficult for me to tell.

 

If you guys have a suggestion for formatting please go ahead and make it, reformatting is no problem at all because I am... umm...

 

 

 

maybe weird....

http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mb9qklAw251ri7i7vo1_1280.png

 

I made that for fun over the weekend. :D

 

 

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If you guys have a suggestion for formatting please go ahead and make it, reformatting is no problem at all because I am... umm...

 

 

 

maybe weird....

I made that for fun over the weekend. :D

 

 

:eek: You did it! I have seriously considered this on more than one occasion...I mean, weeeeeird. Nerrrd. Weird nerd who is weirder than me.

 

...was this a VBA thingy developed in Excel or is it a standalone project?

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:eek: You did it! I have seriously considered this on more than one occasion...I mean, weeeeeird. Nerrrd. Weird nerd who is weirder than me.

 

...was this a VBA thingy developed in Excel or is it a standalone project?

 

Ha!

 

Standalone c# .net 4 with a ms sql backend though I want to make it a compact db so I can just package it. I actually wanted to build something like this to keep track of my little story bits when I realized my Remi universe has 5 or 6 different timelines that I'm still writing. I was starting to get confused.

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So the above posts are my first attempt to format the stories in a timeline format. Thank you to Striges, bright_ephemera and iamthehoyden for sending me lists :) I may still have messed up though so let me know.

 

I chose to go with chronology by character because it took fewer characters to have a link show up twice than it did to indicate the names of OCs next to every thread. Most OC's don't blend timelines clearly so it was difficult for me to tell.

 

If you guys have a suggestion for formatting please go ahead and make it, reformatting is no problem at all because I am... umm...

 

 

 

maybe weird....

http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mb9qklAw251ri7i7vo1_1280.png

 

I made that for fun over the weekend. :D

 

 

/jaw drop

 

Holy crap woman! That's impressive! Thanks for doing this.

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@LogicLoup - I feel soooo bad for her father! (And welcome to the thread :))

 

@Bright - Vierce! (and more Vierce!) Vierce is completely on my adore-and-love-him list, cause I adore and love him. And Elara, well, I just want to hug her cause she's so sweet. (I really need them to release the Cathar so I can go make another trooper!)

 

@Selentar - I love Lokin!! Possibly my favorite crew member for IA, even though Vector is unbelievably sweet.

 

And Kabeone - omg I am very impressed and the database! information organization happiness! excellent work!

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@irishfino fixed (i think)

 

@all thanks for the feedback on the index :)

 

 

 

 

 

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm delicate like that. Now excuse me while I go curl up and die." I made to shut him out of my room.

 

"Uh, sir? We have a work day first."

 

"Dammit!" He was right, of course. And I was badly off balance. Again. "This is her fault."

 

"And I see we're already past the apology part of the Dorne cycle."

 

"Let's just go find something to shoot."

 

 

 

Best exchange. <3 Vierce and Aric they're just dialog gold.

 

 

Erg Edit to Avoid multiposting: LogicLoup that was awesome and welcome to the thread :)

Edited by kabeone
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Fame

 

Squealers

trp - Sana and Aric

no spoilers

 

 

Aric rolled his shoulders, adjusting the autocannon slung across his back. How he managed to look so good after a week-long op digging out an Imperial cell in Balmorra's trenches, Sana figured she'd never know. Sweaty, dirty, blood-stained, and tired was about where she stood right now.

 

"Real food," Aric said, digging a ration bar out of his pack and tearing off a piece, "First thing."

 

"Not a chance," Sana said, matching his long-legged pace, "I'm heading to the refresher. Food can wait."

 

"How bout I start some nerfsteaks while you get cleaned up?"

 

"Now that's my kind of man," Sana said with a grin.

 

High pitched squeals turned them around on high alert. A trio of young female twi'leks raced towards them. Sana glanced around, looking for what they could be running away from. They skidded up to Aric, close distance revealing not fear but wide glowing smiles.

 

"Could we have your autograph?" one of them said, thrusting a datapad at Aric.

 

He glanced over at Sana in horror. "Uh, I really don't think..."

 

"We saw Havoc Squad on the HoloNet with the Supreme Chancellor, and you're our favorite!"

 

The flirtatious shuffling was too much for Sana. She lost it.

 

"Major," Aric growled out of the side of his mouth, "stop laughing."

 

Sana tried to muffle her giggles, but it was a lost cause.

 

"Please Captain Jorgan! Please! Please! Please!"

 

"Fine," he grumbled as he grabbed the datapad and scrawled his name.

 

"Oo! Oo! Mine too!" He quickly signed the other two and then froze as the girls hugged him before running off.

 

Sana was propped up against a nearby wall, wheezing.

 

"Of all the ridiculous things," he grumbled, "I liked this job a lot better when no one knew who we were. Could get stuff done without....are you done yet?"

 

"You've got a..." She pointed at the glittery flower that had been tucked into his armor and lost it all over again.

 

"Damn it, woman!" he growled, yanking the flower off and stomping towards the spaceport, his mate's hilarity following him.

 

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Fame

 

Squealers

trp - Sana and Aric

no spoilers

 

 

Could get stuff done without....are you done yet?"

 

"You've got a..." She pointed at the glittery flower that had been tucked into his armor and lost it all over again.

 

"Damn it, woman!" he growled, yanking the flower off and stomping towards the spaceport, his mate's hilarity following him.

 

Jorgan. Just...Jorgan. :)

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Very, very quick reply:

 

First, welcome to the thread, LogicLoup!

 

Second: Kabeone, the new chronological per-character index is fantastic. However, the link for "Unrequited Love" is going to the first page in the thread and not to the story. I'm not quite sure what's wrong since I'm having trouble getting it to link properly as well.

 

Thank you so much for doing the index. And no, it's not nerdy. Or not nerdy in a bad way :D

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@iamthehoyden I had no idea how you were going to link fame to squealing. that was hilarious.

 

 

 

However, the link for "Unrequited Love" is going to the first page in the thread and not to the story.

 

 

And no, it's not nerdy. Or not nerdy in a bad way :D

 

Fixed. And there is no such thing as bad nerdy in my book.

 

I still might be weird though (I'm ok with that too.)

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