A universe where Malavai Quinn was born a woman. Also Jaesa is a dude in this universe. Featuring light grey SW Anders, Vette, Miranda Quinn, and Jesse Wilsaam. Why is Jaesa a man? Because, I don't want to subjugate Anders to that much Estrogen.

Miranda Quinn sat in front of the mirror expertly twisting her thick black curly locks into its customary bun. Her fingers moved quickly her face screwed up into a scowl. A pin fell loose and a section tumbled out, she was distracted and she was dangerously close to breaking her own rule. Anders had left her alone for the most part, had kept their relationship professional except for the way he looked at her, and the way he would smile at her. She had begun to dream of him, inappropriate dreams that would cause her to flush when she saw him, which only made him smile more, which deepened the blush, it was a frustrating cycle. More than once now he had caught her staring, she had been able to look away, but even without saying a word he could command her to look him in the eye.

Anders had chosen to take the Padawan Jesse Wilsaam on as his own personal apprentice. The Alderaanie youth had embraced the dark side, though his master tried to temper him, Jesse was wild, intent on experiencing everything, his hungry gaze had mercifully fallen on Vette and not her. He barely acknowledged Miranda’s presence. However it still caused a troubling dilemma.

“Miranda, you have to hide me!” Vette burst in, closing the door quickly behind her. Another pin plinked out of her hair, unmaking the entire bun. Miranda sighed.

“Vette, I have told you on many occasions to call me Captain Quinn, or just Captain, Quinn is also acceptable, I will not abide you calling me by my first…”

“SHHHHHH” Vette ran over to her, covering the flustered Captains mouth with her bright blue hand. Foot fall could be heard outside her quarters. Miranda hoped Jesse would be the last addition to the crew, anyone else would force Vette onto her as a roommate, and the thought of sharing her space with the excitable Twilek made her shudder. Eventually the footfall moved away, Vette released her.

“Thanks girl, I owe you one.” Vette exhaled with relief, “I don’t know how much more I can take Jesse’s cheesy pickup lines. Wow! Has your hair always been this long? What are you doing? You should wear it down!”

“No, it’s impractical, now kindly, leave me…” Miranda’s found her hands being swatted out of her own hair, as Vette started expertly pulling back strands and pinning away. When she was done Miranda stared at her reflection in the mirror, the effect was beautiful, tendrils framed her porcelain face, it was half up, keeping the bulk away from her face, and yet half was also down cascading over her shoulders in an ebony water fall.

“See pretty! Anders will love it!” Vette chirped proudly.

“You think?” Caught up in the moment, examining the change Vette had made with just another style, Miranda let her tongue slip.

“I KNEW IT!” Vette whooped excitedly, and then quickly covered her mouth with her hand, looking towards the door with wide eyes, the women listened for a moment before Vette spoke again.

“I knew you had a thing for Anders, you should make a move because he is totally into you.” She whispered conspiratorially, “and you know, as far as Sith go, he’s a pretty cool guy, yeah he goes a little doom and gloom sometimes, but overall he’s really nice, I mean his eyes are still green and his skin doesn’t do that weird pale veiny thing, so you know he isn’t all bad…”

“I’m requesting a transfer.” Miranda blurted, anything for Vette to stop acting like they were friends. It was also the truth. Anders was too much of a distraction, she hadn’t figured out how she would get passed Baras, but she knew she couldn’t stay. She knew how Sith worked, Baras would eventually see Anders as a threat, it was only a matter of time before he was killed, the idea of losing him in such a way even now, knotted her stomach, and left her mouth dry.

“Wow, that’ll crush him. Miranda, he really likes you, please don’t do this to him.” Vette said brows knitting.

What about me! Miranda wanted to scream, “I’ll take it under advisement, Vette, now if you’ll excuse me, my shift is about to start.” Captain Quinn stood at the door waiting for Vette to vacate her room, the Twilek gave her a pleading look.

“Can’t I hide out in here? Jesse will never guess to look in here…” She begged.

“No. Out.” Quinn stood at parade rest beside her door, waiting for Vette to leave.

“Fine.” Vette hissed. She looked both ways outside the door, once confident the way was clear she ran down a corridor towards the engine room.

Quinn made her way to the bridge, she flipped on her favorite console and started reviewing the days work. She pulled up the transfer papers, staring at them, willing herself to be strong, it was for the best. Eventually Anders strode in.

“Captain.” He spoke, “You’ve done something.” His eyes were wide, appreciative. He caught himself reaching up to run his fingers through the curls at the bottom of her neck. She didn’t like it when he touched her, or was overly familiar. He was doing his best to respect that. The current between them was unmistakable, he could sense her conflict, though she kept her emotions tightly in check.

Miranda reached up, grasping a long strand of black hair in her hands, she blushed, absently twisting the lock in her fingers. Damn Vette.

“It’s quite becoming, Captain.” Anders murmured, taking a step closer.

“My Lord, thank you for your attention.” Her breath hitched in her throat, now or never. “I must officially request to be reassigned.” She whispered.

“Not going to happen.” His voice low and gravelly.

“My Lord, I must speak freely, then.” She swallowed hard. “I am compromised, thoughts of you have begun to…distract me.” He smiled, but let her continue. “My feelings affect my ability to concentrate.” Your eyes haunt my dreams, I want to kiss that smile off your lips, I want you to stop me, but I want you to let me go.

“I cannot, in good conscience, continue to serve.” She finished. He scrutinized her, she had to avert her eyes. Then his hand was under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. Miranda was terrified, terrified that he would release her, terrified that he would keep her.

“Is this what you really want Captain?” Miranda?

“No.” The word came uninvited to her lips, her heart usurping her brain for a treacherous moment.

Anders kissed her, pulling her hard against him, his hands running through her silken ebony hair, his lips and tongue exploring her mouth, her own arms went around his neck pulling him closer, she felt her feet leave the floor as he pulled her off the ground, her body molded to him. The kiss broke, they remained forehead to forehead, each breathing heavily.

“Now, more than just duty and honor will be driving my work.” She whispered breathlessly.

“You’ll see, passion will make you stronger.” Anders nearly growled, still playing with her hair, but not daring to push her further, afraid she would retreat from him again.

“I’m growing open to the idea, my lord.” A promise in her words, she caressed the tattooed side of his face, before pulling away completely.

They both straightened, Anders left the bridge with a happy secret smile on his lips. Miranda Quinn had captured him in a way he could not explain. When he passed by Vette, he caught her up in his arms and twirled her around before hugging her and planting a kiss on her forehead. Leaving her dizzy and giggling.

“Why are you so happy?” She asked, though she knew the answer.

“A happy thing just happened.” Anders pressed Vette’s nose like a button, and left to gather the things they would need for the mission on Taris.

Hunter kept his familiar mask on around Wynston, at least most of the time. It made things simpler.

"And you see how that works?" Hunter was saying, pointing to a sector map on the console. "We lean hard enough on the CEO - and we do have the leverage - he'll supply that gang anything they want. The resulting uprising will keep both Republic and Empire tied up around that little resource trove for months if not years, giving everyone, first, a point of frustration the anti-war contingents can rally around, and second, a weeping budget wound to add to the cost of keeping this war going."

"Yes, yes. Get back to the uprising. I know that gang's methods, Hunter. How many civilian lives will be taken in tying up that little resource trove?"

Hunter made a little moue. "Let me guess. Any price is too high."

"I do get very touchy somewhere around the seven-digit mark. Call it a sentimental weakness."

"Everything has a price, Wynston, and in a war that price is blood. Yes, even the blood of innocents. If we weren't spilling it, someone else would be. It's worth it in the end."

"I once knew a man who preferred such crude methods. He had an extensive network of unknowing agents doing his bidding for one big doomsday scenario that would leave the wreckage ready for him. I hunted down and neutralized most of those agents. And then, after he laid out his big idea for me, Vector and I locked him down, dismantled the damned weaponry, destroyed every resource of his we could get our hands on, and drove him into retirement out in deep space." Wynston crossed his arms. "I would've finished the job if I could, and to hell with any benefit he thought his vision had. That's what I think of your blood price."

"That's quite impressive. How big a doomsday were we talking?"

"Millions dead on each of dozens of worlds. Targeted sometimes on his enemies, sometimes just on anything he thought would cause maximum fear."

"And he came close to completing that? That's really remarkable. Where did you say he is now?"

"We're not calling Darth Jadus for strategic support, Hunter."

Hunter shrugged in acceptance. "All right. How about the weapons he left?"

"They're gone now and you won't go looking for them."

"You don't throw away a resource just because it's a little dirty."

"I do."

Hunter gestured impatiently. "When you gave the recruitment speech about rebuilding the Star Cabal I thought you were talking about doing something that vaguely resembles what the the Cabal and I actually did."

"No. I was talking about doing what you should have done." Wynston kept his stare cold. "It would be disingenuous of me to say you can just walk away; this is all you have, all you've ever had, we both know that. And I do need you. But if we're to work together, there are some habits I'll have to insist on you breaking."

...and prompted him to team up with Hunter for a Star Cabal 2.0.

This is set shortly after the previous post. Because, you know, the situation can’t stay shiny clean for long. Even Wynston can be made to see the exigencies of some situations.

Late in the evening Hunter, disguise and all, sauntered into Wynston’s quarters.

Wynston raised his eyebrows without looking up. “Don’t come into my room.”

“I wanted to talk,” Hunter said breezily.

“Can it wait?”

“No.” Hunter flicked the door locked and then leaned casually up against it, crossing his arms in a relaxed sort of way. “As it happens, I’m a little worried about you.” Taunting as ever. “You seemed a little green today when we pulled the trigger on that op.”

“The one directly touching off an action that’ll burn two worlds, leaving entirely uncontrollable wars in place for nothing but–”

“The power shift that’ll transform that sector? We went over the numbers.”

“Damn the numbers.”

“I know you don’t like that kind of bookkeeping. I know you’ve never had to do it on that scale before. But even you couldn’t ignore the benefit, especially looking at the alternative. Things’ll work out. And come on, didn’t you enjoy it just a little, knowing what power you wielded when you kicked that planet-sized hornet’s nest?”

“Every now and then there’s a worthwhile killing blow in my job, but I’m really not seeing the appeal in the aggregate.”

“Liar.”

“Hunter,” Wynston said sharply, “I’m tired. We have a busy day tomorrow. Get out while this conversation is still friendly.”

But you and I have never had a friendly conversation,” Hunter said cheerfully.

“You’re still talking.”

“You need someone talking to you. Or were you just going to close your eyes and think of the Empire every time a difficult op comes up? What do you tell yourself when the knife slides in or the bomb goes off? Does it still work when the bomb’s this big?”

“Was there some point here where we started having a conversation? Because I didn’t invite you in and I don’t have to answer your questions.”

“You’re upset, Cipher Nine.” Hunter reached into his jacket and touched a button. His disguise wavered and vanished, leaving the slender woman Wynston had met very recently on what was to have been her deathbed. “You have to talk to someone,” she said. Her tone was as teasing as the male voice had been moments ago.

“So your big idea for this is to have me talk to you. You can rhapsodize on the joys of commanding life and death over billions, and I can – what, admire you while you’re doing it?”

“That arrangement doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Get out.”

“And leave you to suffer alone? That wouldn’t be very nice of me. Here you sit by yourself, wrapped up in silence and righteousness. Nobody knows what you’ve been through. Nobody knows the choices you’ve had to make, the responsibilities you’ve had to shoulder alone.” Her narration had a faint undercurrent of glee. “You’re the hero, Cipher Nine. But you’re the hero that does the unglamorous things, the jobs no one else is willing to do. You're the guardian in the shadows so no one else has to be. It's quite the image.”

Wynston took off his jacket, stretched out on the bed, and tried to ignore her.

“It’s all right. You’ve shown your face here and there, infused hope where you can. More importantly, you’ve made the kill no one else could. You’ve cleared the way for a brighter future. Now it’s time to disappear again.”

Wynston closed his eyes.

“If this job was uglier than usual – well, it’s still the same cause you’ve always had, and still very much the same methods. You find the weak point. You break it. People die. The survivors have a better galaxy to live in. So everything today went perfectly.” Hunter pretended to examine her nails briefly before returning to smiling at Wynston. “And so I wonder,” she said conversationally, “why you aren’t taking your usual next step. Isn’t there a girl out there somewhere you should be dancing with as we speak? It makes you feel better, doesn’t it? The job isn’t enough for you. Nothing is enough. So you go looking for a little charm, a good time, a few hours to lose yourself in a pretty girl who can make you believe, if only for a while, that you’re worth something. Maybe if saving the world can’t satisfy you, the gratitude from a little driveby favor will. More than that, you want a woman who can accept you for who are you are, you just don’t want her looking too closely at what that is. So you have your fun. And afterwards you can walk away in a glow of romantic mystery, a hero again.”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

“Do you ever start listening? I know you.”

He sat up in one convulsive surge. “You don’t know a godd*mn thing about me and you have no right, absolutely no right, to try. So stop it. Stop looking for trouble. Stop pretending you understand anything.”

Hunter uncrossed her arms and started towards him with a smooth graceful gait. “Here’s one for you, pretty Wynston. Stop dictating terms. Stop trying to rule the galaxy, because we can guide it with more power than anyone imagines, but in the end you can’t control it all at once and you really can’t control me. Don’t give me orders. You’re not my commander and I’m not just another one of your marks.”

“Do you want me to say we’re partners or something? That I should let you one micron closer than you’re standing right now?”

She kept on coming, close enough to lean over him. “Maybe I just want you angry. It’s so much fun. It always has been.”

“You’re sick.”

“Sick? I’m exactly like you, except I didn’t choose to be this way. I didn’t choose to abandon my family, leave my friends behind, cut myself off from every normal connection people are supposed to want. You did, Cipher.” She set her hands on his shoulders. “And now all you have is me.”

He pushed her arms aside. “Ill-advised kiss notwithstanding, Hunter, we don’t have that much in common.”

“Which is why you tell me every day that you need me? Why you haven’t kicked me out yet?” She leaned closer. “You want me here. You’ve wanted it since the day we met.”

He grabbed her shirt, twisting hard enough to tighten the collar against her throat. “If you imagine I could possibly want you,” he snarled, “you don’t know me as well as you think.”

Her smile finally fell away. She tugged free of his grip, stood up straight, and, never breaking eye contact, brought up her disguise generator to disappear into the male Hunter’s eyes. It took the new Hunter a moment to start talking. “You’ll be all right,” he said, his mocking voice seeming even emptier than usual. “The situation on the planet will unfold the way it’s supposed to. It’ll do all the good you need it to do, because you and I, we’re very good at our jobs. And I’ll still be here in the morning.” Then he sneered and walked out.

Wynston got up and paced for a while. And he tried fidgeting with his hair some, and he tried punching the pillow, and he tried tearing the sheets with his bare hands for quite some time; but none of it could make his hands stop shaking.

THINGS THAT AREN’T VERY SEDUCTIVE:

1. Mass death.

2. The kind of vicious psychological prodding that made him hate you in the first place.

THINGS HUNTER WOULD TRY TO TALK ABOUT ANYWAY BECAUSE SHE’S MASSIVELY SCREWED UP:

1. See above list.

The lineup of getting along both personally and professionally doesn't happen often in Wynston's life. And Hunter's brand of antagonism, which appears to be her default behavior for dealing with everyone, doesn't help.

There was another sharp twang, the sound of a heavy cable snapping somewhere under strain. Rixik jumped, fumbling with his blaster, looking around with eyes dilated black in the darkness.

Corso stopped again and looked behind him, “Wha’s got you so jumpy all of a sudden?” he asked, “you been twitchy ever since we crossed the big road outside Olaris.”

Rixik forced himself to put the blaster away, “Bad sound. Building coming down sound.” Taris at night was full of sounds, all of them horrible. They couldn’t go two steps without hearing something new and awful. This last one reminded him of the time the Nar Shaddaa Port Authority demolished a neighboring block to add a new hangar. Couple hundred meters of buildings, flattened in a matter of seconds. The transients, squatters, and all the rest who figured hanging out one more day was worth the risk ended up stains in the duracrete.

“S’ one of the buildings settling. Sounds the same in the day, you just never noticed. The rest is just Taris bugs and stuff. Dint they have bugs on—wherever it was you grew up?”

“Too karking cold,” Rixik replied. Something howled out in the darkness and Rixik jumped again, “Echuta! Don’t these animals ever sleep?”

Corso snorted, “Different animals. It’s nighttime. Sheesh, you’re acting like you never been more’n ten meters from a streetlight.”

Corso’s observation wasn’t far from the truth. Plants, in general, lived in small plots surrounded by buildings. They died regularly, to be replaced by new ones. Animals, on the other hand, lived in cages. Unless they were the two-legged variety, and then they lived wherever the hell they wanted to. Taris had this formula completely *ss-backwards.

Rixik shook his head, feeling it slosh around like a specimen in tank. Stupid brain was firing all thrusters at the same time. And like a ship with the same problem, his thoughts were going around in aimless circles. The next step on the inebriation ladder usually had him confusing languages. That ought to be interesting with Farm Boy here.

Anyway, he sure wasn’t going to let Corso know how far out of his depth he was, “Well, maybe Twi’leks don’t see so good in pitch black. It’s darker than the inside of a rancor living in a cave on the dark side of…of…where Sith live.”

“Korrelebron?” Corso suggested.

“Uh, yeah, Korrelebron.” Somehow that didn’t sound quite right. “Inside a cave-dwelling rancor on Korrelebron. And I don’ have those…” Rixik waved his hand around his eyes, searching for the word, “Tana-boh, uh, for eyes.” Scrambling languages step on the inebriation ladder? Check.

“Like these?” Coros turned around, and Rixik saw starlight reflecting off some device attached to his face around his eyes. Light-enhancing goggles. And he was grinning.

“Where’d you get those?” Rixik asked, reaching for them.

Corso backed away, “I still have friends in the Peace Brigade. Few of ‘em moved on into Republic military. I got some connections.”

“Gimme,” Rixik made a grab for the goggles.

Corso dodged his drunken lunge, though his efforts left him off balance, “No!” he cried.

“Where the kark you keep those things before?” asked Rixik, continuing pursuit, “You always go on a date with tana-bo penkee in your pocket?”

Corso staggered away, “The motto of the Junior Mantellian Scouts is ‘Be Prepared,’” he said, snickering, “and as a proud Savrip-Ranked Junior Mantellian Scout, I am always prepared. For anything.” Corso performed some kind of salute with his right hand. Or perhaps a rude gesture, it was too dark to tell.

“Yeah?” Rixik halted, swaying on his feet. He launched himself at Corso. His shoulder connected with the Human’s midsection, bowling him over on his back in the dirt. Corso grunted, the wind knocked out of him. The goggles bounced off his head and tumbled to a stop somewhere in the shadows beyond. “My motto is: Cheat.”

“Noticed,” Corso croaked. “didja break ‘em?”

Rixik rolled to his side, “Nopa wamma. Can’t see that far.”

“Help me find ‘em,” Corso said. He righted himself and crawled off into the underbrush. Rixik followed, as much by the sound of snapping twigs and muttering as anything else.

The goggles ended up caught on a branch half a meter above the ground, nearly within arm’s reach of where Corso had fallen. Their aerial resting place no doubt helped them avoid certain destruction under the boots of the search team. Corso pulled them off the branch and held them up to his eyes. “Tha’s not quite right.”

“Ow,” Rixik grumped, rubbing his lekku, bruised when the branch snapped back, “What’s wrong?”

“I think only one side is working.”

“You have ‘em turned on?” Rixik asked, peering into Corso’s face.

“Yeah, they’re still—burrowing kreetles, Rixik!” Corso turned toward Rixik, the Twi’lek’s face suddenly looming large in the one functioning lens. Corso staggered backward several steps and landed in back in the shrub, “Warn me next time, sheesh. Yeah I got nothing on the left.”

Rixik shrugged, “So turn on the left one.” He gave Corso a hand out of the bush.

Corso examined the goggles, “There’s only one switch. Musta hit some other setting or something.”

“Well, fix it.”

“I need the goggles to see,” Corso said, putting them back on, “but if I’m wearing ‘em, I can’t look at ‘em.”

“Great.”

“You wanna try?”

“Naa, you keep ‘em,” Rixik said. He hoped the goggles weren’t broken, and not just because at least one of them needed to see. “Let’s get out of these stoopa trees.”

Rixik followed Corso through the brush to a cleared area. Not ground, exactly, their footfalls made sharp metallic sounds. Probably the remains of one of Taris’ buildings. Rixik looked toward the sky. The stars filled it, almost like the realspace view out Sirocco’s cockpit window. Except instead of the regular spacing of the reinforcing spars, dark shadows of ruined structures cut off his view of the horizon and thrust irregular shapes high into the night.

Corso whistled in appreciation, “That sure is pretty, huh? The stars, I mean.”

“Tagwa.”

“Is that yes?”

“Huttese I think,” Rixik replied.

“It mean yes?” Corso asked again.

“Uh, yeah,” Rixik said.

“Haven’t seen a sky like that since I left my parents’ place on Ord Mantell,” Corso said, removing his goggles, “Same stars, different sky.”

Rixik sat down, “Mostly looking through ship windows, myself.”

Corso flopped down next to him. The steel shuddered. “Sounds like my cousin. She left home with me t’ join the Peace Brigade but jumped ship at the first port. She always was the wild one. I don’t think she planned past gettin’ offplanet.”

“Been there. Hopped six ships before I got one would sign me on as crew.”

“Nice of them.”

“Kark hooha,” Rixik spat, “Coulda spared me the favor. They were spicerunners,” he replied before he could stop himself. Karking booze.

“Oh,” Corso said, “I’m, uh, guessing that didn’t work out so well.”

“Don’ wanna talk about it.” At all. Least of all to Corso.

“Sorry.”

“No big deal,” Rixik said with a shrug.

“That why you sent Kirya to Ord Mantell?” Corso asked, “You were worried about getting picked up or something?”

“Just as well for you I did.” Rixik replied, “I’da shot you in the hangar after you set up the meet with Viidu, figuring you musta been in on it. Probably shot Viidu too just on general principles.”

“Harsh,” Corso said, “what about Rogun?”

“Take my chances,” Rixik said, a devious smile crossing his lips, “He’s gotta catch me first.” His good humor vanished in an instant. It was Kirya on Rogun’s hit list, not him. “Kills me that he’s after Kirya. It shouldn’t have happened that way. I wish I didn’t let her go. She didn’t want me going, so she insisted I take care of our other business. Blue milk run, she said. Wan chee azalus.”

“Wait a minute,” Corso said, “Kirya was protecting you? From what, the big bad seps?”

“Temptation,” Rixik explained, “Echuta, Corso, just tonight I was wondering how much of that moonshine I could get off the bartender, whether he’d give me the settler’s name, and whether there’d be a market on Nar Shaddaa or Hutta for it. In the main Republic settlement on Taris. Surrounded by Republic troops, behind a Republic fence, my ship in a Republic spaceport. With a customs agent already looking to cause us trouble,” he fiddled with the lid of a portable water storage canister. Still scored a sample though. Then he shook his head, “Me alone on Ord Mantell would’a been like a recovering spicehead taking a vacation in Nar Shaddaa’s Red Light district. Stoopa koochoo. I like the game too much.”

His head popped up. Spice. Medicine. “Got an idea. Gimme a hand here,” he said, leaning back and digging into a pocket.

“Uh, no thanks,” Corso objected.

“No, no, look, we are both way too drunk to be out here. Taris wildlife is going to eat us and I’d really rather not go out that way. Embarassing,” Rixik said, pulling out a variety of sample packs and small wound dressings, most of which were too crumpled up to be much good. “Check these. I can’t read the labels. Find the Merr-Ox.” He handed Corso four trial-sized tablet packages.

Corso replaced his goggles and sorted through the packets, “Uh, this one. The other two are something-phil-ic or something like that and this one’s a no-calorie sweetener,” he said, returning them to Rixik.

“Just one? You’re sure?” Rixik squeezed the packages, hoping to divine their contents by touch. Hoping there was at least two Merr-Ox tablets.

“Yeah. I think we need more than one to sober up, Rixik.”

“We can split it,” he replied, stuffing the remainder back into his pocket.

“Will that work?”

“Gonna have to. Saresh keeps tight inventory on her medical supplies,” Rixik said, fumbling with the package, “I haven’t been able to get so much as sample anti-fungal cream from the infirmary. Still low after that party celebrating getting Sirocco back. On Merr-Ox, not anti-fungal cream.”

“I’m afraid to ask why you want anti-fungal cream,” Corso said dryly.

“If you want to know how far you can push a doc into getting you stuff under the table, ask for anti-fungal cream, kolto eye drops, allergen-control nasal spray, or anything for spacer’s cramp,” he said, ticking the choices off on his fingers. “If he starts handing you manufacturer’s samples, you can push for shadier things, like painkillers and medcenter-grade kolto injectors.”

“You could just buy things, you know.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Rixik asked, “some are hard to get, or expensive, or both. Some I’d rather not get black market.” He finally managed to break the seal on the sample. The tablet was very tiny, or his fingers were very big. Hard to tell which was correct right now. “Here it is. I’ll just score it along the center and…”

The round pill shot out of his grasp and out of his sight. “E-chu-ta!” he swore. There was a sharp plink as it hit the metal and a high whine as it rolled away. Rixik lunged toward the sound, “Get it! It’s rolling!” he cried.

Corso crawled forward, slapping the ground with his hands, missing. The monocular goggles gave him no depth perception. Rixik dashed after the pill. He could still hear it. He was sure he almost had it when Corso seized one lekku and pulled back sharply.

Bright purple stars filled the darkness. He smelled the scent of Kirya’s favorite perfume and heard a voice recite a obscene limerick. And pain. Lots of pain. Back-of-his-head falling off pain. “Chuba doompa, gaggalak—“ Rixik snarled.

“Drops off,” Corso said.

Rixik realized he couldn’t hear the rolling tablet anymore. And his fingers were wrapped around the broken steel edge of the building’s floor. From somewhere far below, came a resonant bort. The sound of a small solid object dropping into a pool of deep, still liquid. Very, very far down.

He leaned out over the invisible edge, a mild breeze caressing his face. The space below was dark shadow filled with night. He imagined he could see ripples on a surface in the distance, but that was probably just afterimages from Corso tugging on his lekku.

Corso knelt beside him, peering into the deep. “Poodoo,” he said.

…to be continued…hopefully sooner than the last time…

Hopefully the meaning of Rixik's Huttese bits is either clear from context or obvious profanity. Most of the time I've been able to 'cheat' in a sense, and have another character respond appropriately to the statement, so the reader can infer the gist of what was said via the response. Or as I did in the first installment, have a computer run a translation. This time, though, I don't have those options. So, here are translations for anyone interested:

Profanity:

Echuta or E chu ta: a very insulting expletive used as a curse word.

Kark : derogatory expletive.

Karking 'derogatory modifier.'

Poodoo :'Crap', usually bowdlerized where appropriate as 'fodder'.

Everything Else:

Tana-boh Penkee: Wookiepedia has a pretty good Huttese section, but it's not a dictionary. Made this one up.

Nopa wamma: Meant to mean "I don't know." Again, no Huttese-English dictionary.

stoopa: Stupid.

Tagwa: 'Yes'.

hooha: them.

Wan chee azalus: Not dangerous

Stoopa koochoo: Stupid idiot

Chuba doompa, gaggalak--: You low-down, worm-eating--

Credit to Wookiepedia's Huttese Language Entry, even if I did have to make up some Huttese-sounding words.

A universe where Malavai Quinn was born a woman. Also Jaesa is a dude in this universe. Featuring light grey SW Anders, Vette, Miranda Quinn, and Jesse Wilsaam. Why is Jaesa a man? Because, I don't want to subjugate Anders to that much Estrogen.

They were back on Drummond Kaas, Anders in an important meeting with Darth Baras, he had chosen to take Jesse with him to finally meet Baras in person. The rest of the crew, even Broonmark waited in a popular Cantina, Anders had promised drinks all around in celebration. Vette and Pierce busied themselves at a Djarik table, both cheating Miranda noted. Broonmark sat in a darkened booth, in a way Miranda could only describe as glowering, his probsis twitching. Miranda herself sat at a nearby table looking over the local newsfeed on her datapad with a strong Kaas tea, she lamented not being able to get the same quality while away. As she sipped she double the tea order for when they would inevitably be sent on their next mission.

When Anders walked in his face was beaming, his pride spilling out of him. “Drinks all around" he announced as he took a seat next to her, letting his hand rest on her knee under the table, his touch electric.

“Today I killed Darth Vengean, today my Master rises to the Dark council, today we drink my friends!” Anders announced jovially, Miranda couldn’t help but be pleased at the news, pride swelling in her, her heart bursting.

Despite her efforts the two of them had fallen into a relationship of sorts, after pulling the trigger against Moff Broysc’s temple she had felt a release, revenge, justice she corrected herself, had felt good. She had surrendered to Anders advances, consummating their passions. Anders seemed to read her mind as his fingers gently brushed up and down her thigh, sending shock waves up her spine.

“My lord, the crew.” She whispered under her breath a blush climbing up her neck and resting on her cheeks.

“What of them?” Anders teased.

“They have eyes my lord, you have me at a disadvantage.” There was a sharp intake of breath, and a low breathy chuckle from her master.

A round of drinks arrived, Hutt tequila, Miranda wrinkled her nose. All but she drank the shot, Pierce sauntered up to where she and Anders were sitting, his grey eyes on her, he grabbed her shot, and knocked it back, not taking his eyes off of her. Daring her to reprimand him, he licked his lips.

“Mind yourself Lieutenant.” She warned, though she was much less intimidating blushing like she was with her Sith masters hands doing terribly naughty things to her under the cover of the table cloth.

“Hate to see good liqueur go to waste, sir. Wouldn’t you agree my lord?” Miranda had been dismayed at the quick and easy friendship that had formed between soldier and Sith, it made the chain of command impossible to enforce on the ship.

“I would Pierce, you shouldn't waste, Captain.” He admonished her playfully, causing her anger to rise, he smiled at her, eyes dancing, he did so love seeing her uncomfortable, watching her squirm. The color of her cheek better than any drink he could order at the cantina.

Pierce walked away rumbling a low chuckle, off to go rescue Vette from Jesse’s drunken and sloppy advances. He wasn’t usually one for aliens, but Vette had certain charms that endeared her to him. He sat down noisily between the Twilek and the drunken apprentice, putting his arms around both, much to Jesse’s disappointment.

Anders ordered Miranda not a glass but a bottle of expensive wine, dismissing her beloved tea.

Well into the evening Miranda’s head was swimming she didn't know when he had done it, but her chair had been pulled close in such a way that she was now leaning back against Anders chest, with one of his strong arms draped over her shoulder possessively. Any hope of keeping their relationship secret and discreet was thrown out the window yet she still found herself with a half-smile on her face as the rest of the crew laughed and drank. Even Broonmark was taking part, his strange hissing and buzzing taking on a strangely friendly tone. When the bottle of wine was empty and Miranda’s knees beyond weak, Anders pulled her to her feet, supporting her slight, but drunk form.

“I’ll see you all in the morning, none but my sweet inebriated Captain are welcome aboard the ship tonight.” Anders smiled again, despite the gentle threat. Vette dissolved into giggles, Pierce smirked, Broonmark raised his cup and blorped at them, and Jesse Wilsaam was already passed out in the booth. “Look after them Pierce.” Anders added seriously, though he meant Vette. He loved her like a sister and didn’t want anyone to get any ideas about collaring themselves a drunk and roaming twilek for a slave.

“Of course my lord.” Pierce replied with a nod of the head as Vette nuzzled herself into the crook of the large soldiers arm.

The second Anders and Miranda set foot on the ship they were tearing at each other clothing and armor. They were hungry for each other. Anders pulled the pins from Miranda’s hair, and spoke her name quietly into her neck. He didn’t let her rest until she had screamed and given over to her passions completely. Some hours later Miranda woke with her head resting on Anders chest, her long black curls spilling over his skin. Her head was pounding, she managed to untangle herself from Anders heavy limp limbs and wrapped herself in one of his long black robes. She walked to the fresher to get some water, then took a quick walk around the ship. She was surprised to see a blinking message from Baras. She hesitated to press play, but with the ship quiet and Anders sleeping, now was probably the best time to hear what her true master had to say.

“Captain, I leave you this message to tell you that you will soon be free of this assignment. You have served well; I will contact you again for your next assignment in the days to come.” The message cut out, Miranda was left with a hard stone in her stomach. She knew what this meant, Anders had grown too powerful, he was no longer an asset but a threat. She wanted to warn him, but of what? How could she tell him without revealing herself? With a shaking hand she deleted the message.

“Miranda, you’re off duty, whatever it is can wait. Come to bed.” Anders spoke from the doorway, his hair deliciously disheveled, the stubble of his beard shadowing his face, he wore nothing but his quirky half smile.

Miranda nodded and turned off the terminal following him back to his quarters. Anders pulled her back into bed, gently caressing her hair.

“What’s troubling you Miranda? I sense fear from you.” Anders asked softly in the dark.

“I…fear for you. I fear that one day Baras will no longer see you as an asset, that he will try to kill you.” Miranda replied, glad he couldn't see her face.

“My dear don’t trouble yourself, it is the way of the Sith, I have no doubt my master will try something.” He pulled her hand up to his lips kissing her fingers. “Besides, I have something he doesn’t. You.” He wrapped his arms around her and settled back into sleep. Miranda lay awake until the gloomy Drummond Kaas dawn, listening to his heart beat .

The universe where Vette discovered Quinn's plans before the events of Transponder station and kills him. Lord Ninka exiles her to Tatooine.

“My Lord, my re-assignment to your apprentice has been processed. She accepted the reason for my transfer without question and now believes in my sworn loyalty. It is as you described, my lord, she is capable in the field but not terribly intelligent.”

“My lord, I have located and captured Agent Voloren, now the only person who knew the true nature of our association is on his way to you encased in carbonite.”

“My lord, we have arrived on Nar Shaddaa. I am pleased to report that the vices of this place have not called to your apprentice, but she did take another opportunity to imply that there is something personal between us. Should I encourage this? She is rather heavy handed and clumsy in this regard. For the moment I am claiming professionalism until I receive an answer.”

“My lord, Tatooine was a success, and the name of Nomen Karr’s Padawan has been uncovered. Your friend Sharack Breev is also intact and sends her regards.”

“My lord, your apprentice has successfully defeated Nomen Karr and convinced his former Padawan to join us. It is quite obvious that this Jaesa Willsaam has a true lust for power among other things. You will find she is quite malleable to your cause and will not take much or any coaxing to betray her master, after all she has already done so.”

“My lord, the slave has been digging for information regarding my cover story. She continues to ask about Moff Broysc at every opportunity. Unfortunately, your apprentice is on such friendly terms with her that she has begun to question my cover as well. We may need to arrange for the story to become true. If he were to become unhinged at some point and I were able to eliminate him with her help it would also be an opportunity for me to appear indebted to her, solidifying her belief that I remain loyal. As always, I await your orders before I proceed.”

“My lord, I have received both of your dispatches, I will commence with romancing your apprentice. I have also made contact with another of your agents, Major Ovech. He will confirm me as being at odds with Broysc and Broysc as a lunatic. Further, we believe the new serum located on Cato Neimoidia will be highly effective in altering the Moff’s mind, from there it should be quite easy to convince your apprentice that he should be eliminated.”

“My lord, this Lieutenant Pierce is an insufferable liability and cannot be managed. He adheres to no protocol and only follows orders from your apprentice, which makes him dangerous. I trust you will find some way to rein him in, if not I request permission to neutralize him. Other than that, the mission on Taris was a success.”

“My lord, Jedi Xerender and his master were successfully removed. The Talz your apprentice acquired is sufficiently bloodthirsty and ambitious that I have no doubt you will find the appropriate offering to entice him to our side.”

“My lord, your former apprentice lives and now works for the Hand. We are on our way to Belsavis, I will keep this communication brief, I do not know their monitoring capabilities, I may be unable to send another transmission for some time.”

“My lord, not only did Lord Draahg fail to eliminate your former apprentice on Quesh and again on Voss but he also rendered an excessive amount of damage to me and your other assets, Jaesa in particular. While I do not seek to dictate how a Sith Lord conducts himself, it would be wise if he recognized the value of your agents and preserved them accordingly. If I may suggest any kind of reprimand a blow to his vanity would be quite in order and easily reversed should he prove to have learned the proper respect for what is yours.”

“My lord, I am waiting for your former apprentice on the transponder station. The slave has uncovered our plans, she is sedated as I send this but will need to be dealt with after I kill Lord Ninka. She is too versed in skulking and disarming traps to be imprisoned conventionally. I will kill her as well unless you want her for something, please respond at your earliest convenience.”

Lord Ninka played the recordings back from the beginning. She had already seen it countless times. She had spent the last three days after Pierce’s confession and Draahg’s acquisition locked in her room drinking herself numb. Today she woke up with the holo-recording playing on a loop. She used the refresher and attempted to clean up three days of self-pity and alcohol with soap and water and exited her quarters to find Pierce waiting just outside the door.

“Why didn’t you show me that sooner?” Half question half accusation, she was having trouble figuring out what to make of the Lieutenant.

“I copied all of his transmissions in secret, but it took this long to decrypt.” He shrugged, but she could feel the anxiety rolling off him, his daughter was in danger as long as Baras lived, and Baras would not hesitate to kill her just to make a point. “On to Corellia then?” he asked.

“No,” Lord Ninka smiled grimly at the large man’s surprise and walked briskly to the bridge. Pierce had probably hoped she would be angry enough to run straight to Corellia and tear Baras’s network down. She was done being prodded in the direction desired by others, she was done being someone else’s weapon, and there was only one person in the galaxy to whom she owed anything.

She entered the bridge surprising Lord Draahg, the two men watched her enter new coordinates and engage the hyperdrive.

“Where are we going, my lord?” Lord Draahg asked carefully.

“Tatooine.” She replied shortly as she left, “I’m getting my sister back.”