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I Remember Me


Lesaberisa

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Boring disclaimers/background:

 

 

I've given up on starting with my inquisitor, since outlining her story is slowly driving me insane. Instead, I'm starting with my trooper - Ayrs Martell. Doubt most of the story will match up to prompts, so putting it here (with some cross-posting and interludes on the short fic thread). Any comments/suggestions welcome, of course.

 

Story will have some minor spoilers for other classes (Which I'll note/hide behind tags). down the line. Ayrs' sometimes-changing way of speech is intentional.

 

This starts approximately 4 years before game events, but I'm leaving it vague to make things easy for myself ;)

 

 

Note: this takes place approximately eighteen months after Ayrs' misadventures with a prank gone wrong, as he nears (intended) graduation from the Republic academy on Corulag.

 

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Ally had gotten stuck in a tree again. Fourth time this summer already, but she was at that age where they know everything and need to hear nothing. Not like I was any better, anyway. Neither were Dio or Ver either, but Ally was our last memory of Pop, and that meant a lot too.

 

Making my way through the Kyns’ yard, I waved at creepy old Torvin and grinned at his profane salute in response. I caught a glimpse of Ariel’s red hair too; it reached down past her shoulders and – though as beautiful as anything I'd ever seen – was the plainest thing about her. Her laugh, that smile she had whenever she saw me (except when I’d messed something up, of course)…knowing what I meant to her. With Ariel, I was more than some random kid from a nowhere planet; I always felt like I could be more, that I was more.

 

I could hear Ally giggling ahead, so I shouted out. “I remember the last time you did this, Ally, and I remember what Mom did then too. You should too”

 

A deep, decidedly male, voice responded, “Ayrs. Ayrs, are you listening?”

 

I shook myself awake.

 

It was four in the afternoon. Outside, the sun shone brightly across campus as cadets scurried like insects in a hive. Dravis and Mori were probably off at the cantina with the rest of the gang. I should have been, too, but instead I was here, with the least pleasant person on campus, Dr. Avant.

 

The good doctor was a middle aged man, a fact his receding hairline and expanding gut did much to reinforce, to say nothing of his complete incomprehension of anyone under the age of twenty-five or from outside the Core. Unfortunately, he had also become my regular companion on Friday afternoons for the past several weeks, on orders of the headmaster.

 

The bad news had arrived on my datapad, a direct communication that brooked no dissent.

 

Cadet Martell

Pursuant to Article III, Section B of the Campus Code of Responsibilities, and in light of intervening events on Ithaca, you are hereby ordered to attend mandatory counseling sessions at 3pm every Friday with Doctor Avant in the administrative building.

 

The message was nearly as laughable as it was aggravating.

 

In light of intervening events on Ithaca, legalese for ‘because your entire family was slaughtered by a bunch of sithspawned pirates.” Funny how bureaucrats could manage to sound as cold as Hoth even when they tried to find the appropriate euphemism to sound human.

 

So, here I was with the main campus psychologist. A never-was trying to be some sort of hero in a desperate attempt to find meaning in his life as the years passed. Always asked me the same damn questions every time, never offering anything of any use. I could almost recite our conversations word for word before either of us spoke. He wasn’t a complete moron, but that awareness was about the only positive thing I could say about the man.

 

I heard him clear his throat, so I stifled a yawn and tried to pay attention.

 

“Ayrs, I know this has been difficult for you, but these sessions are important. The headmaster is concerned that you’re attempting to downplay the psychological trauma you’ve suffered, and I have to say I feel the same way. I understand your desire to appear disciplined in the face of tragedy, but it isn’t healthy”

 

I shrugged, more to myself than anything. Karking intellectual had been in the Core his whole life. The most action he could have seen out here on Corulag was the intramural sports outside his window. People like him never could understand what it was like out on the frontier. He’d never hunted a rabid predator in a downpour in order to protect his town’s kids. The most dangerous thing in his life was his karking diet.

 

“Definitely, doctor. It hurts, a lot…I’m not denying that at all. But I know what’s ahead of me and I’m ready for that too. I’ll find my own way, make my family proud, and take it from there.”

 

Instead of nodding in approval, as I’d expected, he frowned. Uh oh. I could see those gears working overdrive in his head.

 

"I think you want to make a name for yourself, yes, but I think you’re willing to die to do so. Too willing. The Republic needs its heroes, but it doesn’t need dead ones or ones that get those around them killed."

 

I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable with his sudden aggressiveness. Maybe I was also uncomfortable with the fact he was probably more right than I wanted to admit. Give him the answer he expects to hear or the one I want to give?

 

“What do you want me to say, doc? Y’all are concerned about me but I’m here to finish what I started and join up like ma- my mother did.”

 

His frown deepened further, and his display of more thoughtfulness in five minutes than he’d demonstrated in the previous five weeks left me off-balance. I felt a solitary drop of sweat beading at the spot on my neck where my shaved hair met naked skin. It slowly travelled down the length of my neck and down into my fatigues.

 

Avant replied carefully. “I’m not sure that’s good enough, Ayrs. Neither is the headmaster. If we aren’t reasonably satisfied that you won’t be a danger to yourself or your fellow soldiers....well.” He drifted off with an unhappy look. “We’ll have to find some other duty for you. Non-combat,” he said coolly, meeting my eyes with his beady black ones. He didn’t flinch, at least, I’ll give him that.

 

“With all due respect…”

 

He cut me off with a glare and a sharp hand gesture.

 

“This doesn’t just come from the headmaster or me, Ayrs.”

 

Rissa? Drav? I didn’t want to imagine either of them selling me out like this. Both? I grimaced.

 

“So I guess I’ll just let it all out then, doc, and we’ll see where we are when I’m done.”

 

He nodded and quickly added, “That’s all I want, Ayrs. To know what you want”

 

“What you want is to hear what y’all expect me, the typical Rimdweller, to say, right? That I want to hunt the karkers responsible down, that I want to be the one to see the life drain from their eyes? That I can’t sleep at night without seeing my mom and pop there with me, and my brother and sisters too? You want me to tell you how I wake up every morning breathing heavily and wantin’ to do a lot of damage to all the right people but for the wrong reasons. That’s what y’all want, isn’t it?”

 

I took a breath, which gave him the chance to interrupt.

 

“Is that what you really feel, Ayrs? If it is, then it’s what I want to hear. If it isn’t, you’re not helping anyone by holding it in.”

 

How’d I get here, trapped in this room with this karking doctor? No room to maneuver, no escape.

 

“Well, Doc…yeah. What I want is to find the scum responsible for Ithaca, hunt’em all down and show them that a Martell never forgets that kind of evil. What I want is for my mom and pop to be alive, or another day of running through the forest with Dio and Ver and Ally and Tor without a care in the world. I want to feel like I did when Ariel told me she loved me for the first time. But I ain’t ever going to get that, am I?”

 

He shook his head, almost sadly. He’s almost human.

 

“All I want is to be given the chance to find my own way in life. I’ve lost damn near everything I’ve ever had…everything I ever loved….but I ai...". I paused and gathered myself, taking a couple of deep breaths. “I am not going to get myself killed or anyone else. Not Rissa, not Drav or Mori, not anyone else’s mom or pop or anyone. I’m going to wake up every morning, take a deep breath, and remind myself that I'm still alive, that I can do the right thing, do some good for the galaxy. It's what mom wanted, it's why she wanted me here and why I wanted to be here too. I'm sure as hell not going to ruin that for the sake of some blood."

 

The doctor started to respond, but I wasn’t quite done. I’d never said this to anyone before, not even Rissa. I sure as hell wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass by because of Serge Avant.

 

“But I can’t do that if you don’t clear me, doc.” My voice shook a bit, and my vision got a bit blurry. Sithspit, I’m getting emotional. “If you don’t clear me, all I’ll ever have are the ghosts and memories, anger and pain. I’m never going to make it on only that..”

 

Doctor Avant looked at me with warm, sad, eyes full of understanding and compassion.

 

He began to reach out a hand, then stopped and removed a glove first; looking closely, I recognized the outline of a power box and realized it was a prosthetic, an older model too. He noticed my reaction.

 

“Three tours with the 22nd Division, lost my hand on Duro. Reminds me of where I've been, who I was, and who I want to be.” He smiled knowingly at me. “We all lose things in life, not everyone gets a chance to pick up the pieces and move on. Everyone deserves that chance, son. I know you’ll make me proud.”

 

I felt like a karking idiot, not for the first time. My face definitely shading red, I gripped his hand in mine and smiled the best I could.

 

“Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best.”

 

I’ll find you, Ally. I’ll never let you fall.

Edited by Lesaberisa
errors, because I suck
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Disclaimer/notes:

Time to move this forward finally. Two posts (I'm splitting them to avoid a headache of a read, will probably post the second after some more editing). Will probably write up the graduation ceremony in the short fic thread, avoided Ayrs meeting Rissa's parents since it was borrowing too much from my own life :o

 

 

No game spoilers

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Graduation was coming up faster than I could believe, and more than ever I wasn’t quite sure how that made me feel. Corulag had never been a real home to me; it never could have been, really. Still, after the news from back home had filtered in, I guess it’d been a sanctuary of sorts, and the closest thing I had. Now, that security blanket was being taken away from me. Worse, Drav was being assigned to garrison duty on some no name colony, I was was heading to a recon unit and Rissa was going to be groundside working for R&D somewhere.

 

Most everyone was finding a way to enjoy themselves, but remembering why I’d even decided to apply had sucked any interest in celebrating out of me. Ever since I was old enough that I should have known better, I’d wanted to live up to my mom’s example - fighting the good fight, doing my part for the people around the galaxy who couldn’t always defend or help themselves from what threatened them. Now...now what once felt like the culmination of years of dreaming felt more like a trap, but one I didn’t really want to escape. Not like I had anywhere else to go.

 

Some academy routines still had to be followed - I’d composed a few letters to instructors I wanted to thank personally, ensured everything I had to take care of administratively was in place and…then sat and thought a lot. I hadn’t been all business, though – I’d watched a few holovids, spent quiet evenings with Rissa or Drav and the gang. Mostly, though, I spent a lot of time thinking about where my life was; I could still try to live up to the ideal I’d built for myself, but everything else felt like a mess. I wasn’t sure what would happen with me and Rissa being this far apart for the first time, wasn’t sure how I’d keep in touch with Drav. Sometimes I felt like I wasn’t even sure I wanted to think about what life would be like if and when I left the service.

 

Tonight, I was sifting through what few possessions I had in my quarters, the kind of mindless rearranging of objects people do when they have too much time to think and too little they wanted to actually think about. For a lot of the people here, graduating was just one objective within a larger strategic plan for their life. They’d put in their tours as required, leave for the private sector, then their lives would really begin – families, money, everything I either didn't have any more or never had in the first place.

 

My inventory was pretty bland for the most part. Aside from my equipment and other standard gear, I had some civvie clothes I rarely wore, a few pieces of huttball memorabilia, my family locket, pictures Rissa and I had taken while on recess this year, some carefully modified alcohol. Mom’s old DV-22 pistol too, same one that’d helped keep her alive all those years she spent fighting the Empire, pirates, Hutts, and whatever else decided to try their hand against the Republic. “Final Verdict”, the commercials had named it, as subtle as a rancor. I remembered how lovingly mom had taken care of it, which made me smile. It also made me a little sad. She should have been here.

 

Last, I carefully removed my locket from the pile of things and looked at it, not for the first time tonight. The small holo-still picture sprang into view. Mom and Pop were there, smiling back at me like they always did back home, like I hoped they were still doing from wherever they were now. It was their favorite picture, with Mom in1 her old armor and Pop in his old robes; it’d been taken on some mission they’d been on together, before he’d run off with her and thumbed his nose at everything else. Mom and my siblings had been gone almost three years now, though, and Pop even longer, and the hole they’d left sometimes felt like it was eating me from the inside out.

 

I hated being reminded me of what I lost, and loved seeing it all the same. I wasn’t sure if that was healthy or a sign I needed more counseling. Or maybe I'm already a bit nuts.

 

I sighed softly, then slipped the locket’s chain over my head and let it slip beneath my shirt. Painful as it might be, it was important to remember where I came from. As the doc said, even painful experiences can be used to build a life out of. Not sure I believed that as much as he did, but thinking about that sometimes made me feel a little better about myself.

 

I heard a soft knock on the door. Rissa

 

“Come on in cutie,” I said, using the affectionate term I knew would let her know I was alright and not merely sulking in my room as I was occasionally want to do. Only worse thing than being down was getting the people around me depressed to, so I tried my best not to. Course, it helped a lot that it was damn near impossible to feel too bad when I was around her.

 

She bounded into the room with a huge smile on her face, kissed me gently on the lips, and plopped down on the bed next to me, falling backwards to rest her head on the pillow. Not being the kind of guy to ignore an invitation, I fell back next to her, bending my arms and resting my head on my hands while mimicking the pose of a tough guy from the holovids. I threw in a scowl and winked at her for good measure. She smiled brightly at me, then kissed me again before letting loose with a nervous giggle. I knew then that I was in trouble, and her words just confirmed it.

 

“So, Boo….I realize you haven’t gotten the chance family yet. Sort of silly since we’ve all been on the same planet together for so long” Kark. She paused for a moment, obviously going through some lines she’d prepared beforehand. “But with graduation coming up and our assignments up in the air for another couple of weeks….I really want you to at least meet them.” Kark kark kark.”You know, say hi, put in an appearance. You’re important to me, and I love you, and there’s no reason they won’t too.”

 

About fifty possible answers to that flashed before my eyes, most of which I saw having fairly negative consequences for me. My throat was suddenly as dry as a desert and I was pretty sure I could feel the goose bumps forming on my arms. Simple solution; play it safe.

 

“Uhhhh, okay. I’d love to. It’s important that they at least know me and, really, how bad could it be?”

 

She narrowed her eyes at me for a moment, and her smile disappeared as well. I felt a choking sensation beginning to work its way through my throat and that ever present bead of sweat forming. Then she laughed and her eyes radiated amusement.

 

“Oh, don’t be like that. Meeting my family isn’t that bad, not like what they put you through after the Ortola Incident. That was hardly reassuring, but I nodded in mute agreement. Nodding along never got me into trouble. “I promise, I’ll make sure my parents are well-behaved.”

 

I sighed heavily. The Harvin family wasn’t likely to be too impressed with me. They were a long line of wealthy industrialists, I was some Rimmer from a colony nobody’d ever heard of and even fewer, and none of my ancestors had risen as high as theirs had. From the way Rissa described them, her father probably had more cufflinks than I had credits in the bank, and probably would prefer I was another of his servants than dating his daughter.

 

Still, I could see the potential benefit, if I could play my cards right, that’d be a huge burden I didn’t need off my shoulders. If I didn’t…hmmm. I wasn’t really sure. Best not to dwell on that, I guess. I suppose, even then, it might not matter as long Rissa didn’t mind putting up with me some more. She had thumbed her nose at them to be at the academy in the first place, after all.

 

Speaking of Rissa, I suddenly realized I’d left her waiting for a response when she cleared her throat softly to get my attention. Not being the kind of guy to leave a lady hanging, I ventured forth as best I could.

 

“We definitely should meet your parents, not just because they’re in town for the ceremony, but also because it’s the right thing to do.” Always start carefully, I say. “I’m sure I’ll be able to find something to impress them with. If not, I’m sure Drav will have some ideas for how to make our meetings less awkward.”

 

I grinned like an idiot at my joke, then felt like one when I saw the stone-cold look on her face. For a moment, I had the vain hope that was just an act, but as her jaw set more firmly in place, I realized I needed to take it a bit more seriously.

 

“It’s not a laughing matter, at least not to me, Ayrs.” There was an edge to her voice and an almost dangerous glint in her eyes. That tingling feeling was back with a vengeance. “I’d like to think what we have is as important to you as it is to me, and my family’s also important to me. I know it’s probably not going to be fun or enjoyable, at least at first, but I’d hate to think you can’t see why this matters.”

 

Not much to say in response to that, since she was right. Speaking slowly, to be sure I didn’t get myself into any more trouble, I added. “It does matter to me, Rissa. I’ll be honest, your parents scare the kark out of me, more than anything else in the galaxy. And I…I just don’t want to screw this up. With everything that…that’s happened, I can’t bear the thought of losing you because I told a bad joke to your dad or something.”

 

“Well, that’s easy enough to solve.” Her hand moved up my arm and cupped my cheek. “Just don’t tell him any jokes.”

 

I was slightly confused, “Are you saying I can’t tell which of my jokes are good or appropriate and which aren’t?”

 

“No,” she replied calmly, as if she’d been waiting for me to say that. “I’m saying all your jokes are bad.”

 

We lay there next to each other for a long moment, no sound to be heard except our breathing and my ego shattering. I leaned over towards her and gave her cheek a quick peck. Always dangerous to have a girlfriend that’s more clever than you are, I’d found out more than once. She gave me a knowing smirk that melted quickly into a smile and a girlish giggle.

 

I decided to seize the initiative.

 

“Since I’ve been so awesome and understanding about both meeting your parents and your cruel attack on my comedic talents, maybe we could find a better use for our time than crumpling my clothes and possibly breaking that Weequay Wampas sculpture you’re on top of.”

 

She smiled at that, then casually rolled over onto her side before slipping her hand under my shirt and laying it gently on my chest. “What did you have in mind?”

Edited by Lesaberisa
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No game spoilers. Time to get Ayrs off Corulag finally. Putting them behind spoiler tags because of length, didn't really want to post twice.

 

Minor notes:

 

I'm giving Ayrs a bit of a service time before he goes back for 'advanced' training to join Havoc. Mostly some background stuff, but also a few things that will tie into his (and a couple of others characters') overarching personal story I didn't feel I could integrate organically into the game's story without putting way too much in.

 

 

Graduation...

 

 

The breeze was blowing softly through the trees in Memorial Plaza, enough to help make the usually unbearable heat less of an issue, but not enough to actually keep us cool. Row after row of graduating cadets, all sweating, melting, praying for the instantaneous arrival of a cold front as the Republic dignitary giving the address droned on and on.

 

“This is the greatest opportunity of your life, to serve something larger than yourself while growing….”

 

I tuned out again. The Devaronian was a Senator on the Subcommitee for Navel-Gazing or something like that, and his speech was basically the equivalent of a recruitment poster, only without the benefit of being silent. Judging from the mix of disdain, apathy and bemusement on display among my other graduating cadets, I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Apart from Drav, who was furiously typing away at his datapad for reasons I probably didn’t want to know about, I only noticed about three or four others who didn’t look like they desperately wanted a nap; the usual brownnosers sitting at the edge of their seats in rapt attention. I sighed, and glanced at time for about the millionth time already.

 

Speeches like this were almost uniformly bad, a deadly mix of clichés and half-truths the audience wanted to hear, with a helping of platitudes on the side. I didn’t need to have some lofty goal of building myself some grand future in the grand tradition of the Republic or continuing the proud traditions of the institution. I just wanted – needed - to get out in the field, away from the sheltered bliss of the Core and back where I could do some good for people. Like this karking politician should have been done for Ithaca. I gritted my teeth.

 

“….the traditions you are upholding are the finest in the galaxy, in the universe. You are the vanguards of growth, of hope….”

 

I still remembered the day I’d accepted the offer and sent in my papers to the Academy.

 

Ariel’d been furious, her face turning as red as her hair. The anger, I could take that, I’d told her it wasn’t goodbye but we both knew it was. Only fair she let me know it too, sometimes the tough decisions come with unpleasant consequences no matter how hard you want to avoid them. What I couldn’t take came over a year later; putting together what little savings she had, she’d sent me a message to say nothing more than she wished me well and was thinking of me. I’d decided to take my time to call her back, to make sure I didn’t say something stupid or give the wrong impression. Always figured there would always be time for it. Only then, on a day that would have otherwise been unremarkable, there wasn’t.

 

At least Mom had been thrilled, of course, but she’d always wanted us to get off Ithaca and do something better with our lives. Probably some of Pop’s crazy philosophy in there too, but she’d served twenty years and knew better than most the importance of places like this and people like me who graduated from them. When I squinted and looked out into the crowd I could see her there, too. Pop was standing, stoic on the outside but with that warm smile hidden behind it if you knew where to look. And Dio and Ver and Ally too.

 

I felt my vision blur a bit, and got to thinking.

 

I remembered getting the news; not from family or a friend, but from the scrolling line of information at the bottom of the screen on the local news. My home wasn't newsworthy enough to knock off the local sports news, you see, I had to wait until the later broadcast to learn that Ithaca was little more than a smoking memorial to everything and everyone I'd left behind.

 

I remembered the horrifying first few images, before the censors or something that hadn’t traded their compassion in for a prime spot on the holonews, realized it might not be entirely appropriate to show corpses strewn in the streets. I remembered the dispassionate way the media types discussed what happened there and the other worlds that were hit in the following days and weeks, turning the butchery of thousands of good people into what they hoped would be a good story for the ratings.

 

My gag reflex kicked in, suddenly, and I leaned forward. I felt Rissa’s arm hook around mine, our elbows linked, as she whispered something to me. Equilibrium was restored.

 

I nodded, muttering, “I’m okay, I’ll be okay,” to her under my breath, then gripped her hand in mine. She squeezed my hand in response and smiled. Technically it was a violation of some subsection of the Code of Conduct, whichever one covered fraternization, but I couldn’t care less. Soon, Rissa would be on her way to Corellia and I’d be reporting to a staging area on my way to my new unit.

 

I heard the wave of applause from the audience, and realized our nightmare was finally over. The class stood in unison, and tossed their formal hats in the air. I blew a kiss into the sky to where my family was...where I thought they were...then grabbed Rissa around the waist and planted a bigger kiss on her.

 

Screw the regs, if this ended up being a goodbye, it was going to be on my terms this time.

 

 

And roughly two weeks later:

 

 

As one of the most populated worlds in the galaxy, Corulag had more than its fair share of spaceports, and they came in all makes and models as well. Ferteg Interplanetary Spaceport, for example, was the perfect location for a clandestine meeting between two former cadets looking for cheap Lomin Ale and no run-ins with the staff of the academy given that at least one of them was probably being burned in effigy in the staff break rooms. Drav had let his shaved hair grow a little during his time off, I saw, apparently aiming for the ‘rakish scoundrel’ look that he assumed everyone thought was a good one. Both Mori and I disagreed, but for once he'd braved her reaction, apparently.

 

He sat down across from me, blew the foam off of the absurdly large mugs he’d sprung for, and carefully pushed one in front of me.

 

“So, Ayrs, how’d your solitary confinement go?”

 

I grimaced slightly, and took a deep gulp of my ale to buy myself time. The academy had a strict tradition of allowing the graduating cadets two weeks off after graduation before they had to return for final processing and shipping out to their assignments. Most everyone went on a trip of some kind, usually with family. That left me at a disadvantage, especially after the fiasco with Rissa’s parents.

 

“It could have been worse." I spoke cautiously, to be sure the alcohol didn't make me say anything I shouldn't. “I mean, getting to sleep in every day and getting up to watch some vids isn’t the worst of lives.”

 

He snorted derisively.”Look, chum, I know things didn’t go as well as you guys had hoped, but a first impression isn’t the only one they’ll ever have.”

 

I winced at that. Well, the comment and the particularly bitter sip of ale I'd just taken.

 

“Drav, it was awful. And I don’t blame them; if I were a blueblooded family from the Core, would I want my daughter running around with some random Rimmer with no ties to anything outside the military?” I frowned, took a small sip, and swished it around in my mouth. “Besides, that’s not the only thing. She got a new assignment, special training out on Corellia.”

 

Normally, I’d have been happy to hear that news; that Rissa’d not only gotten the attention she deserved, plus something to throw in her father's face when he ranted about her life choices. Normally. Problem was, I was joining up with the 23rd Specialized Recon and Tactics, destined to be just about anywhere other than Corellia.

 

“Oh.”

 

For once, I’d left the legend speechless. I wish I had had a camera on me to record it for future generations, because I wasn’t likely to see this happen again.

 

“We’ll see how things go,” I said carefully. “We’ve been talking about where we see ourselves going for a bit now. We both iwant it to work but…we don’t want to force it. And we don’t want the other person to force it too. I don’t know, I don’t want to lose her, but if I push too hard to keep her, I’ll lose her anyway.”

 

Drav coughed, a pensive look on his face. “Ayrs, I know you’ve had a karking awful past couple of years, but don’t look for ways to make your life harder. It’s not just about Rissa, you’ve been pretty distant in general. Always hiding up in that room of yours or out doing those crazy runs of yours on your own, whatever. Always looking to be the lone man with nowhere to turn, always looking for a reason to be unhappy.”

 

I shrugged slightly. Not much I can say about that, he’s right. I took another sip of the ale and motioned to the waitress to bring another. Drav was still talking anyway.

 

“Don’t forget there are people out there who care about you out there. Rissa, Mori, the rest of the gang. Me too, chum. Don’t always be looking for a way to justify your own miserableness when you don’t have to. You’re not just making yourself depressed, you’re worrying the hell out of the rest of us too.”

 

That stung a bit, mostly because of the truth to it. He must have seen the pained expression on my face, because he reached out and gripped my shoulder firmly with his right hand.

 

“Seriously, Ayrs. You’re a good guy, but you seem to always want to be upset, even when something good happens to you. I'm guess it's because you feel guilty over what happened at Ithaca. Alright, I lied, I know you feel that way, I'm not blaming you for it. Force knows what I would have done, but you've got to know that Rissa and Mori and I and a whole mess of people are always here for you too. That karking mess wasn’t your fault, it never was and it never will be. You shouldn’t ever forget your family or your home, but you also can't forget you've got a life to live and friends to live it with."

 

His eyes tracked someone behind me. Rissa to my rescue.

 

He stood up, stretched his arms out languidly, and cleared his throat, then raisd his voice intentionally. “Well, I think I’ve just about drunk myself into a stupor, I’ll just leave you two kids alone.” He lowered his voice to a near-whisper and added, “Don’t forget what I say, Ayrs. You're as much my brother as my real ones.”

 

I stood up as well, a bit unsteadily, and gave him about as big a hug as I’d ever given anyone except Mom or Rissa. “You too Drav. Try to keep your head down out there, would hate to think of Mori having to fill out all that insurance paperwork if you don't."

 

We separated, and he gave me a crooked smile, winked once at Rissa, then made his way towards the exit, stopping for a time to talk with someone that reminded me of the vice mayor. Knowing Drav, it probably was the vice mayor. Rissa slid into the booth to sit across from me, taking the place where Drav had been, a very pleasant upgrade indeed. She was tanner than she’d been when we’d last been together, but Howwiker Beach tended to do that for you. Or too much time in the salon, if you’re Drav.

 

“Hey, cutie, how was your vacation?” I decided to start cautiously, safer that way, less likely to do something stupid and get myself into trouble. She gave a slight smile – a teasing one though, suggesting my tactic had been a little too obvious.

 

“”It was nice, Ayrs, like I told you last night.” The words were somewhat mocking, but her eyes were warm and teasing. Well, it was worth a try.. “But we’re not here to talk about vacations and we both know it, we’ve got to deal with what’s coming, and be fair to both of us.”

 

I nodded slightly and gulped down some more ale. It occurred to me that Rissa might not have ordered a drink when she came in, but I wasn’t sure this was the proper time to bring it up. I congratulated myself on my discretion.

 

“We do, Ris, and I want to make sure – whatever we do – we make the decision that will make both of us as happy as possible. I want this to work, but I don’;t want to hurt either of us trying to force it to.”

 

Rissa smiled at that.

 

“I agree Boo, and I think we can. We’ve made it through some rough times in the past couple of years, I think we can at least give it a shot. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work but…”

 

But..?

 

The momentary pause began to stretch uncomfortably long and I wondered if this was when I was supposed to raise my concerns about trying to keep a long-dstance relationship going. Living across campus from each other was one thing, living across the galaxy , quite another. Tick tick tick The time kept passing, I hoped it wasn’t quite as much time as it felt like.

 

Finally, Rissa laughed.

 

“Oh Ayrs, don’t ever change.” Then she leaned over the table and kissed me, so I returned the favor. First gently, then with more force, and she responded in kind. Judging from some loud hooting I heard, it sounded like someone at the next table approved.

 

“Oh,” I replied intelligently, the objections I had melting away. I was always at my most eloquent around Rissa.

 

Her drink, some sort of purple liquid with fizz that probably tasted about as obnoxiously sweet as it smelled, finally arrived. Once the server droid had left, we raised our glasses, clinking them together as we toasted. Secretly, I was pleased I hadn’t drunkenly broken her glass with my larger and heavier mug for my ale.

 

“To the galaxy’s foremost and most beautiful former-cadet and now biological researcher with an unhealthy addiction to soap opera holovids.” She glared fiercely at me, but only for a moment.

 

“To the galaxy’s star intramural huttball player and future supreme commander of the Republic unless his career is derailed horribly by Drav.” Touche. And devastatingly accurate as to that last part.

 

We both laughed, and I was happy to realize I wasn’t just doing so because I’d drunk enough to get a Wookie smashed. I slid – a bit shakily – out of the booth and sat down next to her, resting my head on the top of hers after she leaned against my shoulder. For a moment, I felt like I could take on the entire galaxy.

 

Maybe it was the ale. Maybe it was spending time with my friends. Maybe it was just okay to be happy for once.

 

Edited by Lesaberisa
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Thanks (always nice to have fans!) :o. I've been enjoying yours as well, especially since I haven't really done much with my BH and it's providing a lot of insight into how I might look at mine.

 

And, so I'm not shamelessly bumping my own thread to respond .... minor notes:

 

 

Small piece on Ayrs' new squad. No game spoilers, mostly just introducing things since i'll be on vacation next week and didn't want to leave it hanging

 

 

They called the 23rd Recon and Tactics Group the “Underbelly Dwellers”, and I understood why when we got our first assignment, place called Chalcedon that I’d never heard of before and wish I’d never been to once we landed. Planet wasn’t Republic, which was why they sent us – Recon and Tactics being the regular military’s way of avoiding calling a unit infiltration. The planet’s volcanic environment, importance to the slave trade, and the foul odor that seemed to follow everyone and everything probably explained not being in the Republic.

 

Captain Niamdi had made joining 2nd Squad about as smooth as I could hope for. A ten year veteran of the military, her striking features could have made her a popular model if she hadn’t been so keen on trekking around the more unseemly parts of Republic and neutral space doing her part for the galaxy. The others had also been pleasant surprises, given all the nasty stories about hazing and the like we heard about back at the academy. Sure, there’d been the incident with the Bothan back on the fleet, but that didn’t count. Mostly.

 

Tavon, a Devaronian who looked eerily like the one that had given the speech at the academy graduation, was an overly-serious sort. Or so it seemed, until we got our hands on a sabaac deck and we discovered he was also an expert on separating fools from their credits. There was a certain sadness to him too, although I hadn’t figured out why quite yet, and the other squad members hadn’t commented on it either. I wondered if he might have been driven by the same forces and emotions that kept me going through the day too, the way his eyes would harden whenever someone mentioned home or family.

 

Alix Montague was a fellow human, whose family had been forced to move from their own home out in the Outer Rim after the war ceded their planet to the Empire. She’d picked up a pair of fierce-looking facial scars from “extracurricular activity”, as she termed it, before joining the military for some payback. They clashed a bit with her black ponytail, but she seemed to like it. Not like I was one to judge a woman's grooming.

 

Last was a Bothan with graying fur named Haskit, who never failed to tell people “no relation” after revealing his last name was Dall’ag. I didn’t get it; in fact, none of us did, but the man did good work with explosives and was good for getting us into the best cantinas. He also seemed to have an encyclopediac knowledge of daytime holovid soap operas, which was both entertaining and more than a little frightening.

 

I hadn’t had much time to keep in touch with Rissa though, let alone Drav, Mori, or the others. I’d managed to shoot off a holocall to Rissa about a week back, when she was supposed to have been arriving on Corellia, but she hadn’t picked up, so the timing had been off. It always is. I’d have more time soon, I told myself, but not really believing it. Recon and Tactics meant seeing a lot of the galaxy – both good and bad – but it also meant spending a lot of time travelling. And when we weren’t travelling, we were hunkered down in some bog or watching shipping habits on backwater colonies.

 

Still, her last message to me had been as happy as I could have hoped for. Her parents, apparently finally recognizing defeat, had given her their blessing to “follow her dreams” (she’d rolled her eyes describing the term), and had apparently even wished me well, which was more than a little surprising. Recon and Tactics did have one benefit - a more flexible deployment schedule. Maybe, if I was lucky, I could find a few spare days in our schedule and surprise her over on Corellia.

 

All in all, things could be a lot wor...

 

Even as I was finishing that thought, I stepped in something sticky, and an especially awful smell wafted into my nostrils. To my dismay, some sort of magenta goo covered most of my boots. I heard Alix snicker. I walked right into that one.

Edited by Lesaberisa
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  • 2 weeks later...

Notes: A few weeks after the previous post. Very very minor trooper class spoiler at the bottom. This is my first time (ever) writing any kind of action, did get some help from a friend but I tried not to rely too much on him, so please feel free to point out where improvements can be made. Just be sure to sugarcoat it :p

 

Spoiler tags due to length. Some minor violence/unpleasantness.

 

 

The sky was already darkening as we assembled at the transport. Attacking at night seemed a bit risky, but Captain Niamdi wanted to maximize the element of surprise and hit the pirates; hit ‘em when they were least likely to be alert, disrupt their normal routines, made plenty of sense as far as I could tell. Silently, I thanked whatever had driven me to make all those night-time treks in the woods back home as a kid, since making my way through beast-infested wilderness would have otherwise terrified me.

 

Our mission was pretty straightforward; SIS had discovered a base for a large group of the Sky Talons pirates on Nemros IV, a group that was suspected of being involved in some low-level raiding of Republic worlds out on the Rim. Nasty bunch of customers even aside from that, as the passengers of the Galactic Dreamer, a luxury liner out of Alderaan they’d hit and left traps on to explode in the face of would-be rescuers and stranded passengers alike, could attest to. Objectives were simple enough – infiltrate the base, determine if there was any viable intelligence and acquire it, then get the hell out before a major firefight was started.

 

Simple enough, except…except after our joint briefing with Wampa Squad - another unit that’d been attached to us given the scope of the operation – the captain had taken us aside to let us know that we would be operating under ‘omega protocols’; shooting to kill, taking out targets of opportunity, etc. When she’d asked me, specifically, if I had any problems with that…well at first I thought she was just concerned because it would be my first time getting my hands dirty like that. That lingering look she gave me afterwards, though…. Someone further up the chain of command had to know something about the Sky Talons or they wouldn’t have sent two full squads out for a base that probably housed about fifty of them, they could have just wiped them out with an airstrike.

 

Something was up, I just wasn’t sure what.

 

The trip from to our staging ground was pleasantly short, especially given the complete silence we were operating under. I knew it was no time or place for quips and banter, but nothing quite got my nerves on edge like sitting in a M-4 personnel carrier as it rumbled along in uneven ground, shaking us left and right. Having nothing to do but stare uncomfortably at Alix or check and recheck the gear I’d had ready last night didn’t help. It’s not just that, you idiot. You also have gone another two weeks without getting ahold of Rissa on the Holonet, and now you’re worried about not having another chance to. I felt a gnawing sense of unease in the pit of my stomach.

 

“Alright people,” I heard over my helmet’s comm. “This is Niamdi. Tavon and Montague will cover our rear. Martell, you cover Dall’ag as he gets us in, then take point and move in. Wampa has everything else covered, they’ll be on tactical channel two. I want this quick, I want this clean.” Each of us clicked once over the comm to let her know we were prepared, then we each hopped out of the M-4 in turn.

 

I tapped Haskit on the back to let him know I was ready to move out; the satchel of heavy explosives he carried under his arm would get us through the cargo door to the southeast of the compound. He nodded, and we headed out, carefully angling away from one of the handful of patrolling pirates on our scanners. I wasn’t really clear why we were using the heavier ordinance – seemed to me that it would completely blow any surprise we had and provoke a firefight that would complicate the mission. Captain Niamdi knew that too, it was almost as if she was deliberately doing something to force the pirates to take us all on.

 

To our left, I saw a small flash of light as one of Wampa’s members took out a sentry with a silenced blaster pistol, leaving the corpse lying there in the underbrush. Another sloppy move that didn’t make much sense if we were trying to be sneaky about things, but I figured the captain knew best. Haskit was still fiddling with the triggering mechanism, so I crouched behind a boulder and surveyed the scene.

 

The pirates’ base, really more of a glorified shelter from the elements, was a simple pentagonal building with a large cargo door to the southeast (soon to be blown to smithereens, Force willing), the main entrance to the north, which was being covered by a pair of snipers and a pair of smaller entrances that were being covered by anti-personnel gunners, both of those groups coming from Wampa, who were proving more than a little useful. They’d already neutralized both of the sentry towers, and were mopping up the pirates outside too.

 

“Run, furless one!” I heard Haskit shout before letting loose with a childish giggle. Well, as long as he finds his own lines funny, at least he’s got one fan. Three months in, and I still didn’t understand his sense of humor any more than I had my first day.

 

The door went up in a massive blaze of fire and smoke and a roar that reminded me of what Mom used to sound like when I came home late from hunting back home. Or the headmaster after the stunt with Ortola. Even though we had positioned ourselves a safe distance back, the force of the explosion still threw me a few feet and landed me on my back. Haskit, always tougher than he looked, gripped my wrist with one paw and pulled me up.

 

“A good explosion always warms my heart.” Another childish giggle. I rolled my eyes and prayed he didn’t give up his day job.

 

I clicked my comm channel once to let the captain know the door had been blasted open and we were moving in. A few isolated shouts from the compound let me know the pirates probably had realized as much too, but I couldn’t waste time on that right now. With Haskit following a short distance behind and to my left, I carefully maneuvered my way through the smoke and into the room beyond what remained of the door, which was filled with boxes of gear and supplies. A pair of Sky Talons were standing in the room, just in front of the far doorway, not noticing me because they were so intently focused on putting out a fire. I carefully aimed my rifle and took them both down with surgical shots to the head.

 

Haskit and I made our way to the door the Talons had come from and took a right into the corridor, aiming for the control center which command hoped would provide us with the intel SIS was after. If we were lucky, maybe we’d even capture a couple of high ranking prisoners for interrogation. There was gunfire coming from the southwest, probably Wampa exchanging fire with whatever pirates had tried to exit the building that way. I winced as I heard a couple of screams from nearby too, pirates or not, it was always easier not to hear stuff like that.

 

The lights went out – another part of the plan I wasn’t too pleased with, but one that would throw the defenders off even more – so Haskit and I popped our night-vision on. The greenish tint that almost everything took on was still something I had to get used to, but I could make out a couple of figures scrambling out of a room ahead of us. Haskit took the first one out with a single shot, the second fell to my rifle without ever knowing what hit him. We were making good progress, at least, even if my misgivings from the briefing still hadn’t really been answered.

 

“Wampa Bravo, inside the complex. You’re clear to move in,” the comm died as quickly as it’d come to life for that message. I shrugged at Haskit, who was busy readying the next satchel of explosives to get through the inner blast door some of the pirates had closed, probably hoping we’d either pass them by because we didn’t have the time, or maybe they thought the doors would be enough; if so, Haskit had a helluva surprise in store for them.

 

Another, smaller, door opened to our left, and three Talons came out with blasters blazing. I heard Haskit grunt as he took a shot in the side, and I swore I could feel a bolt whiz right past my face. We didn’t have time to mess around, so I flicked the switch on the side of my rifle and scythed fire across the room in front of us. The first pirate took a pair of shots in the chest and died instantly, the second – a monstrous Weequay – took one to the gut and another three across his torso before he went down. The last one, a small tattooed woman, went down even as her blaster fire tracked towards me. Haskit finished her off with a shot to the head while I stood around like a nerf herder gaping at him.

 

“Close your mouth, Martell, you don’t want any local insects laying eggs anywhere uncomfortable.”

 

Haskit coughed and groaned quietly rather than laughing, like I’d have expected. I could see his discomfort on his face through his helmet’s visor. He must have recognized my own concern, as he waved it away and went back to attaching the explosives. I could hear voices from within the room, four….maybe five. Not enough to stop us, but maybe there wouldn’t have to be a fight.

 

I keyed into the room’s comm system and matter of factly announced, “Lay down your weapons and open the door, you don’t have to die.” Their response was equally brief, colorfully suggesting I perform an impossible anatomical act on myself. Haskit and I shrugged at each other, and moved back behind cover before he hit the trigger.

 

Again, the pirates’ shoddy construction worked to our advantage. The door, as if made out of cardboard, exploded in a spectacular ball of flame, with a large piece of debris nearly cleaving one of the pirates inside in half by some debris. The others were still groggily climbing to their feet as Haskit’s grenade and my rifle cleared the room. Behind the smoking ruin and corpses was the control station we were after. I motioned to Haskit to let him know I was going in, he nodded and – after surveying the control room to make sure those corpses weren’t getting up – turned to find somewhere to cover me from.

 

I removed my helmet and began working on the computer. Something smelled terrible. Blood. Death. I wondered if Ithaca had smelled like this, then wish I hadn’t thought of that at all. I went back to typing, then attached my datapad to the console to upload the decrypting software that would get me into their system. Only I didn’t even need it, since the fool of a commander had left himself logged in, leaving the entire system vulnerable once I got past the initial layer of security. I started downloading material into my datapad. Pretty standard stuff; notes on ships they’d hit, contacts within a few criminal organizations. Info SIS wanted but nothing too interesting.

 

Something called “Operation Forward Sweep” caught my eye. It didn’t sound too grandiose on its own, but it was protected by two additional levels of encryption and the name was far more literate than most of the records the pirates had kept. I knew I didn’t have much time from the pacing I could hear Haskit doing behind me and the helpful timer counting down on my wrist, but my curiosity had gotten the better of me. A few minutes of sweating got me through the first level of security, a few minutes more got me in for good.

 

The comm clicked twice, time to move out.

 

I punched my datapad twice to have it play the information on Forward Sweep to me as Haskit and I left out the north entrance, where the M-4 would be waiting for us. We gingerly made our way through the smoking ruins, careful to avoid the occasional tripwires and more plentiful corpses. Wampa had really done a number on the rest of the Talons while we’d been busy, and I wondered if we’d be partnering with them again.

 

Turning back to the data flashing on my screen, I recognized a long list of planets in the Outer Rim. Not just planets, small colonies that had been largely abandoned by both Empire and Republic alike after the war. Avon. Berial III. Callyntir. Covit.. My blood turned cold even as the shock of what I was reading settled into the pit of my stomach. Not a list of worlds. A list of targets.. It didn’t take me long to find Ithaca.

 

I could feel Haskit’s eyes burning a hole through the back of my helmet, so I figured I’d missed him saying something. I shrugged at him, and ignored the side-eye glance he gave me. Luckily, we were just reaching the transport, where the mandated silence meant he couldn’t tell I was ignoring him. This time, the quiet was a welcome relief, leaving me free to think through a few things.

 

Two hours later, I was sitting in the room they’d assigned to me at the local hotel, nursing a cold beer and planning what to say to Rissa when I got around to calling her, when Captain Niamdi walked in. She didn’t bother to knock, but then again she didn’t really have to. She looked a little bluer than usual, but I chalked that up to the mission.

 

“Do we have a problem, Martell? Montague said you were sulking again.”

 

I pondered that for a moment, wondering how best to respond.

 

“Sir, you knew the Talons were involved in the attack on Ithaca. You knew, and you left me out of the loop to find out from a datapad.” I could feel the blood rushing to my face, always a warning sign that I was about to say something stupid.

 

“Suspected, didn’t know. SIS sent us out here to see what we could dig up. Even if I had known, I wouldn’t have told you, though.”

 

My blood was up now, but I took a deep breath. No sense in misdirecting my anger; I owed Doc Avant back at the academy that much. “Why not?”

 

Her voice got strangely soft then, softer than I’d ever heard it before. “Ayrs, I can’t pretend to know what you’ve gone through, but I do know what I’d feel like if something happened to my family, to my children. I’ve read your psych evaluations and I wanted to make sure I had a soldier out there tonight, not someone looking for blood. If I have my way, you’ll get that too, but don’t get yourself killed for it.”

 

In that moment she reminded me of the last time I’d talked to Drav back on Corulag. Sheepishly, I nodded at her, turning slightly away to stare at my desk so she wouldn’t see me blushing slightly.

 

“You can count on me, captain. I’m here to serve the Republic and its people, not any need for revenge.”

 

She nodded, then turned and walked back out the door. I glanced at the clock and noticed the conversation had taken only three minutes, not the eternity it had felt like. I made a note to find time to call Rissa, then sidled over to my bed and lay down before turning off the lights with a quick hit of the button. I lay there in the dark, just breathing.

 

The people in that compound had been pirates; they’d stolen more than valuables, they’d stolen lives, destroyed families and homes. They’d been involved, in some way, with the attack on Ithaca. I should have been thrilled that they had paid for what they’d done. And yet…they’d been people, too, and when I closed my eyes and thought about what we’d left behind in that compound, I didn’t feel any joy.

 

Had my friends, my family, looked like they had? Bodies sprawled all over, left to rot by their killers? Worse, sometimes I could see my friends and family in place of the pirates. I didn't need to see Ariel or Mom or my brother and sisters like that. I just need another drink. Or a med to keep me from dreaming for a night or two.

 

I turned on my side, blowing a kiss at the holo of Rissa I had, hoping to dream about her. And if not her, something…anything other than the pirates or home. As I drifted off, I quietly repeated the name I had found buried in all the other data on Forward Sweep, the name I hadn’t mentioned to the captain or anyone else.

 

Thorus. Thorus. Thorus.

 

Edited by Lesaberisa
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And now to get Ayrs to SpecOps, updating his love life and other tomfoolery. No game spoilers, but have the tags because of length.

 

 

I flipped my canteen over again, barely catching it with my fingertips when it slid off my left palm. Another few seconds and I’d finally get to talk to Rissa, but for once I was more scared than anything else. Her last few messages had been…different. There was more than just physical distance between us and I wasn’t really sure what to do, what to say. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if any of that would matter. We’d always known it would be tough, until one or both of us settled into something more permanent. Easier to say than actually deal with.

 

At long last, her face popped onto the holo-projector, as beautiful as ever. She’d cut her hair a lot since I’d last seen her, the military-style bun replaced by a bob. ‘Course, Rissa could make anything look good, even a handlebar mustache combined with combed-over hair. Your jokes are terrible enough even when you aren’t nervous, idiot. Stop being stupid and say something. I cleared my throat, staving off whatever she was going to say long enough for the realization that she wasn’t smiling – not at all, let alone like she always had for me.

 

“Hey, cutie, glad we could finally catch up. Finally.” I winced. Stupid, stupid, stupid. “I like the haircut, I should get mine done like that too.” I ran a hand through my buzz-cut, to make sure she’d catch what was only the most obvious of jokes.

 

A smile briefly flashed across her face, but it was only a phantom, fleeing as quickly as prey from an onrushing predator. Something was clearly off, and I uneasily realized I was about to find out what.

 

“Hi, Ayrs. I’m glad you could find time to talk, it’s been really hard this past year.” She looked down, almost as if reading off of a card or something, then absentmindedly repeated, “Really hard.”

I reached for the back of my neck and scratched furiously at an itch that wasn’t there. C’mon Ayrs, you knew this was coming. You had to.

 

“We really need to talk about things, Ayrs. Me. You. Us. I can’t do this anymore, I just can’t. I knew the physical separation would be bad, but not even hearing from you regularly, almost never being able to see you on the holo?”

 

She looked back up, her brown eyes filled with tears where they were usually full of laughter, and her voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “It’s not your fault, it’s not anyone’s fault. But every day since we’ve been apart has been hard, and it’s only getting harder. I feel like I’m trapped in a sinkhole and whenever I try to dig myself out, I just slide further in.”

 

I gulped loudly and stared rather awkwardly back, no doubt reminding Rissa of the charm that had won her over in the first place.

 

“I… I ain’t really sure what I can say, Ris. It hasn’t been easy for me either.”

 

She smiled faintly at that, but at least this time it was a real one, which cheered me slightly. “I know, Ayrs, I know. But you know where I’m coming from and….and I think you’ve probably been coming to the same conclusion too. It’s not that I don’t love you, I do. Some part of me always will. But what we have…what we had isn’t possible any more, and it hurts me just to think about it.”

 

Some part of me flashed back to the stupid old holovids I used to watch as a kid and occasionally still enjoyed at the academy. I’d say something witty, some new assignment would come down the pipeline and we’d patch things up. The other part of me, the part that was the wet blanket but also the voice of reason, knew she was right. Our situation had karked up what we had, no matter how much I wanted it to be otherwise, and I owed it to her to be honest about it and not cling on to a memory.

 

“I…I have.” I could hear my voice break slightly and frowned, trying to maintain my composure. “But I’d still like to talk about it, talk things through, if that’d be alright with you?” I hoped she recognized it was a question, not an imposition.

 

She nodded slightly, then looked back down while putting her hand over her mouth for a second. Stars, I don’t want her to be like this.. “It would be, but unfortunately I have to go – I borrowed some time from a friend.” She looked back up, and gave a sad smile even as her lip quivered.

 

Time to rescue her as best I could.

 

“Of course, Ris, just let me know what time works for you. And find something to do, somewhere to go, don’t mope over me, I’m enjoying some R&R out here on a tropical paradise in the Outer Rim.”

 

This time her smile was a little warmer and less uncertain, though the suspicious glint in her eyes revealed I still wasn't as convincing a liar as I needed to be sometimes.

 

“You do the same, Ayrs. Don’t let me…this…drag you down. I’m still here for you, I always will be.” She reached a hand out towards the projector, and I wished to the Force that I could have reached out and touched it. I settled for giving her a lopsided grin as the connection cut out.

 

I managed to find my way to the cooler and grabbed a couple of cans of beer. Opening one, I took a long gulp and sat on the edge of my bed, contemplating the wall for a long moment. I wondered if this was what it was like to have your heart broken, but I honestly couldn't feel much of anything, just a black void where my insides should have been.

 

I took another gulp.

 

 

And roughly a month later…

 

 

Alix poked her head in my room, cautiously glancing around before walking in and pulling a chair over next to mine to sit down in.

 

“Hey buddy, have I got some news for you.” She paused for a moment, then a minute. I could feel myself leaning over in my chair and had to force myself to sit back so I didn’t end up smearing my face on the floor. She seemed to notice and smirked slightly before continuing, “Captain wants to see you.” With that, she sprang out of her seat and smoothly made her way out.

 

I stared out after her, but my “That’s it?” came far too late to get a response. Shrugging, I picked myself up and carefully tossed my can of beer into the receptacle for plastics.

 

Nobody else seemed to be up yet, judging from the sound of Tavon’s snoring and the fact I couldn’t hear Haskit trying to impress Alix with another of his jokes about the Torgruta opera he went to last time he was on leave. I wondered why the captain needed to talk to me, then, since we were in between missions. ’Bout to find out, I guess..

 

The doors to her office opened with a louder than usual snap-hiss, and I found myself facing not only Captain Niamdi but also the holo of a distinguished middle-aged woman in uniform. I’d never been much for memorizing insignias, but she seemed to outrank the captain by quite a bit. I snapped to attention and fired off the most by-the-book salute the galaxy had ever seen.

 

The captain chuckled at that and motioned at me to take a seat. She didn’t, however, introduce the woman on the holo.

 

“Specialist Martell, you’ve served with the 23rd for over a year now, ten missions without a casualty and helped bring us some of our initial intel on Operation Forward Sweep. How would you judge your time here?”

 

I considered that carefully, not just because I didn’t want to offend the captain, but also because I figured my answer mattered a lot to General Grandmother too. I cleared my throat to buy a few more precious seconds, then decided to have at it.

 

“Sir, I feel that my time with the 23rd has been beneficial to both myself and the unit as a whole. Mainly, I’d say that I’ve found it an extremely valuable experience in general and even more useful for allowing me to apply lessons learned, both in the academy and outside it, in the real world and on real missions.”

 

The woman on the holo didn’t really react, while the captain nodded and motioned for me to continue.

 

“Uh, and I feel like additional experience in the field will only build upon the foundation this year has given me.” My throat was feeling a bit dry and I was pretty sure I was sweating through my jumpsuit, so I shut up. Just in the nick of time, too, it seemed, since the woman on the holo jumped right in.

 

“I’m glad to see you’ve taken to field work, Specialist Martell. I’ve had my eye on you for some time now, and wanted to see whether those scores you achieved at the academy were representative of actual talent or just the ability to regurgitate what the instructors has already told you. I am pleased to see it was the former, and I would like to extend an offer to attend specialized training on Corellia. Should you accept this offer and meet the standards required, I would then have you transferred into Special Operations. Similar work, I admit, but on a different scale. A real challenge that I think you would enjoy.”

 

Corellia? Why couldn’t this have come a few weeks ago?

 

“Sir, I’d be honored. My only concern would be leaving the 23rd in the lurch in some way.”

 

She shook her head in response. “That will be taken care of, Specialist, and shouldn’t concern you. I will forward the required paperwork and necessary information to Captain Niamdi shortly. Congratulations.”

 

The holo flickered, and then was gone, leaving the captain and me sitting in silence for a moment. Then, the smiled slightly and stood up, extending her hand. I matched the gesture.

 

“Congratulations, Ayrs. This is a great opportunity, and one I’m sure you’ll seize just like you always have. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you, and I’ll be looking forward to seeing your name in the vids. Just don’t forget about the rest of us, right?”

 

I laughed at that. “Doubt Haskit would ever let me.” She snorted at that, then dismissed me and returned to reading a message on her personal terminal. As the doors shut behind me, I realized I was going to miss having someone on my squad who looked out for me even when I couldn’t. Then again, she puts up with that blasted Bothan, she’s practically a saint.

 

Training for SpecOps on the same planet that Rissa was on. I wasn’t sure what part of that equation scared me more.

 

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I hung from the bar, both arms straining to hold my body up, let alone do anything more. I wondered again whether I might have made a mistake in coming to Corellia. General Grand- Garza had seemed confident in my abilities, but I was still fairly fresh out of the academy in general, let alone compared to the other candidates around me. Hell, some of the guys here made me feel like I was undersized and I had the build the recruiters could dream of. Getting full of yourself, Ayrs.

 

As if to ensure my feelings of inadequacy were complete, rumor had it that at least one of the spots out of this group was going to be for Havoc Squad, which only emphasized how out of my depth I felt. A little over a year out of the Academy, and I was supposed to be competing for that? Maybe the general was a bit crazy, I wasn't sure.

 

Still, I couldn’t deny that having a real challenge like this in front of me was doing me some good, even if the summer climate wasn't doing my outfits any favors and meant my undershirts needed more than their fair share of laundry. At least it meant something other brooding about Rissa or missing Drav, Mori and the rest of the gang. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, I still did all that, but most nights I was too exhausted to spend more than a few minutes on it. Corellia being the home of some of the finest breweries in the Core was only a bonus, particularly when one of my squad members proved to be a local.

 

I shook my head. Focus, you idiot. Focus. Just one more to go, and I just barely managed it before my right arm finally waved the white flag and I took the hint and dropped off the bar. The white undershirt I was wearing to keep from overheating was soaked in sweat, and even my regulation shorts felt a bit damp. Nothing had made the difference between a skilled unit like the 23rd and actual SpecOps more clear than the physical training; top-end performance out there or back at the academy was – at best – barely tolerable here.

 

At least I was done for the day, though, pretty much every hurt and my sprains felt like they had their own sprains to deal with. I limped slightly, and headed into the barracks, dodging a couple of other candidates who were all too eager to avoid being sweated on. It also helped that I was well-built even for a SpecOps candidate, so I was regularly given a respectable amount of room. Your presence is just too much for -

 

Crack

 

“Kark!”

 

I got a few stares from the candidates lounging in the recreation room, and more than a few laughs, as I rubbed the painful area on my head ruefully.

 

Someone back at HQ had determined that a way to mold candidates into being ready to operate in cramped or otherwise unusual physical circumstances was to build structures with hallways that sometimes had their ceilings higher or lower or whose widths changed depending on where you were. You got used to it, mostly, but at my height it couldn’t be avoided entirely, and I was sure that whoever that genius had been was probably enjoying blooper reels of me blundering my way through his buildings. Sometimes, at night when I was reciting Thorus’ name under my breath, I added that guy’s name to my list of people I would hunt down.

 

I pushed in the door to my room and peeled my shirt off carefully. Glancing at the mirror, I was pleased to see my hard work in the field and weight-room was more than cancelling out my disastrous attempts at cooking and occasional drink. I absentmindedly traced the scar that started on my left shoulder and ran under my armpit when a sharp wolf-whistle let me know that I wasn’t alone.

 

“Drav?! The hell are you doing here?”

 

His shaved hair had grown back somewhat, but otherwise he looked the exact same as the day I’d last seen him back on Corulag. He looked a little tired though, bags around the eyes, stress line around the forehead, even his smile looked a bit weary. Of course, seeing as he was supposed to be on the other side of the galaxy right now, it might all just be the result of some hard travelling.

 

"Hey, chum, I’d hug you but it looks like you’re as wet as a...err Mon Calamari.” I wondered what that was all about, then heard a couple of the female candidates walking past in the hallway. Always the gentleman.

 

I laughed, then clapped Drav on the back. He gave me a half-smile back, then continued his epic tale. “After you told me that you were going to be out here doing some additional training, me and Mori figured it’d be nice to surprise you. Had to call in a few favors, and couldn’t get a spot for Mori unfortunately, but I hauled myself out here on a freighter carrying toothbrushes to the CorSec Academy. Oh, and Mori says hi.”

 

I gave him a side-eye glance; I could never be sure which of Drav’s stories were true and which weren’t. Even those that were rooted in fact tended to be….embellished…even then. About the only thing I could say I was sure about was that Mori said hi to someone, somewhere, but damned if Drav wasn’t a sight for sore eyes.

 

“I’m sure the captain appreciated your incomparable wit, Drav. I’m not complaining though, it’s great to see you. Catching you and Mori on the Holonet every few weeks isn’t the same, and I’ve lost touch with too many people from back at the Academy.”

 

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Even Rissa?”

 

I felt a sharp pain in my chest, where what was left of my heart remained. “No, we’re still in touch. In fact, I’m supposed to meet her next weekend since I’ve got leave and she’s got….well whatever you call leave when you work at one of them science labs like she does. Probably inventing the next kolto or something.”

 

A pregnant pause followed, and I glanced at the floor a bit awkwardly. It'd been a few months now, but there hadn't been anything to plug the gaping hole Rissa had left.

 

“I’m glad to hear that buddy, I have to admit that I was worried about you. Mori too. Mostly Mori of course.” He made an exaggerated waving gesture with his hand while his eyes rolled. “Women.”

 

I wasn’t quite sure how best to respond to that, especially with the possibility of being overheard from the hallway. I figured it was better to let Drav have the rope to hang himself with if it came to it.

 

“I was meaning to ask you about that, Ayrs. Why didn’t you get ahold of me sooner about how things were going between you two? I could have arranged something to help."

 

While he’d been talking, I’d made my way over to the small sink and filled one of the plastic cups with some water. I’d been mid-gulp when that last bit hit my ears, causing me to spit it all out in a geyser of backwash and slightly discolored water. Hmm, is it always that color?

 

“Arranged something? What are you, the head of a criminal organization or something?” He laughed at that and ran a hand through his hair, pausing slightly as he reached the top of his head.

 

“I have my ways, Ayrs, I have my ways. Mori and I could have at least tried to get you an early leave out to Corellia or something, you know how creative we can be.” The smirk on his face convinced me to let that statement slide. “Besides, you’d have owed me huge for it, and what’s a better sign for how good a friendship is than one friend lording a debt over the other.”

 

I took that in for a moment, using that precious break to swallow what was left of my water and place my cup back in the rack where it belonged. “You, lord something over me, Drav? Perish the thought.” I wasn’t sure if it was what I had said or the expression of mock seriousness that did it, but I finally cracked his façade and got him to let loose with his trademark guffaw. “So, how long you here for?”

 

“Three days, then I’ve got some alternative activities to attend to.”

 

I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know what that meant “Perfect, buddy, time to show you some of the finest sights of this district.”

 

He reclined back on his seat and mulled that over. “Don’t think Mori will like it if I try to pick up another woman, Ayrs, but I’m sure we can find you a good one. Maybe a Selonian, might be hard to find one hairier than you though.”

 

I contemplated throwing the cup at him, but instead meandered over to the closet where my few civilian-appropriate clothes were hanging. I doubted anyone I met out there would have been impressed by the dull dress shirts, anyway.

 

“We’ll leave your matchmaking skills for another night. I’ll shower and then we can head out and see who’s the real man among us.” That provoked an eyebrow raise. Point, Ayrs. “Tell me, Drav, you think you can handle a contest of drinking Tramway Fire Ale, or has getting engaged left you an even bigger lightweight?”

Edited by Lesaberisa
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Small notes:

 

The weekend meeting, like he mentioned. Probably one of the last pre- ingame pieces, so trying to get it all in place

 

 

The café Rissa had picked seemed nice enough, mostly mid-level bureaucrats and some students from the local university, so we’d fit in okay. Nice view overlooking the promenade, trees waving in the wind, that sort of stuff, if you were into that sort of thing, I guess. Maybe I’d have enjoyed the ambiance more if I wasn’t nervous as hell; already nursing my second glass of wine and sweating as much as I did during one of our challenge workouts. I tried to surreptitiously wipe off my forehead with a napkin, then surveyed the crowd, hoping to see her coming.

 

Still nothing. Of course, it probably didn’t help that I’d gotten to the café about thirty minutes early. Practicing reconnaissance, I’d told myself. Hopelessly stupid, more like. The waitress didn’t seem to believe my line that someone was going to be joining me anymore, but I couldn’t say I blamed her. Kark, I feel like I’m back in first year. It’s over, you idiot. Get it through your thick skull.

 

At last, I saw that familiar knockout combination of long brown hair and lively brown eyes bounding towards the café, wearing a surprisingly casual black tank top and skirt. I straightened my shirt, made one last pass at running my hand through my hair, pointless as it was given my buzz cut, then stood up and waved her over. A moment later, and helped by the smirk that appeared on her face, I sheepishly realized I probably looked like some overeager teenager.

 

“Ayrs!” She exclaimed, the smirk replaced by a broad and reassuringly genuine smile. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, went up on tiptoes to give me a kiss on the cheek, and then pulled herself into a hug. I hugged her back, and for a moment it felt like things were just like they used to be. Only, my cheek wasn’t tingling like it would have been back then, and her grip loosened a lot faster. Over. It’s over. Get. It. Through. Your. Head..

 

I motioned her over and pulled her chair out for her, then made my way back to my own, no doubt making a good impression when I slammed my foot against the table and muttered a few choice words under my breath.

 

“Hey Ris, how’ve you been? Drav was wondering if we could maybe get a heads up if you invent anything impressive so we can get in on the action on the stock market.”

 

She smiled, and put down her menu once she’d attracted the attention of the waitress. “I’m good, really busy as you might imagine. R&D always sounds like it’s going to be fun and games but it’s a lot of work, especially since people are always eager to dump the grunt work on the new people like me The same for you in Recon, I bet?”

 

I nodded – some things were universal truths, and giving the unwanted work to the newest people was just another. “So that’s a no to giving us any insider information? I wouldn’t mind an early retirement, you know.” I waited for a minute, then, because I realized the waitress had finally arrived. Always observant, I was. Rissa ordered something called a smoothie, I had luckily already got myself one of the overpriced bantha steaks and a brew.

 

“Unfortunately, no,” she said with an exaggerated frown that made me smile in response. “When’d you last talk to Drav, though?”

 

“Oh, he was here about a week and a half ago actually. I asked if he could stay longer but he had to cut it short. Duty, he said. Mori, most likely.” I made a motion like I was using a whip and made a cracking noise to accompany it. “He also asked that you provide free medical care for him when he’s old and decrepit.”

 

She rolled her eyes a bit at that last one. “With his lifestyle, he’s likely to be that way sooner than he thinks, probably driving poor Mori nuts. How’d he get out here anyway, isn’t he on an active patrol?” I hadn’t even begun to process a reply when she shook her head. “Wait, never mind. It’s Drav, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.”

 

I grimaced and nodded my agreement. I didn’t doubt that one dark day we’d all wake up to Drav as Supreme Chancellor. Speaking of awkward things, though, I cautiously changed tacks. “So, how’re your parents, still giving you trouble?”

 

I could see the question troubled her, but she was bought some time by the waitress arriving with our drinks and my food. She mulled things over a bit as she drank a bit of the smoothie-thing, then leaned forward. “My mother’s still upset about the entire thing, but I think being assigned to research work on Corellia has eased her concerns a bit. Father….well I haven’t really spoken with him in some time. I couldn’t say.”

 

I frowned in response, and contemplated my beer for a moment. “Well, they’re the ones missing out.”

 

The rest of the lunch was less uncomfortable, luckily, mostly idle banter about where our friends were, how terrible our superiors could be, the usual. Apparently one of her colleagues was coordinating a project with Galactic Solutions Industries on something called a seeker droid for finding lost equipment and other items in combat zones, which sounded interesting enough once I got past the technical jargon. I didn’t really mind not understanding it, anyway, it was nice seeing Ris happy. Just wish I was the one making it happen.

 

As the shadows crept over our table, she glanced at the time and made a facial expression that resembled the bastard child of a grimace and the look she would get after I tried a new joke on her.

 

“Time to go?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

 

She nodded and knelt to get her expensive-looking bag off the ground. I hoped I hadn’t spilled anything on it. “I’ve got a meeting back at the lab to review some of the implications of some hypotheses posited in an Imperial medical journal.”

 

That caught me off guard a bit. “You guys read the Imp journals too.”

 

“Knowledge crosses borders, Ayrs.” She grinned that knowing smile she always got when I’d unintentionally amused her. “My supervisor was pretty impressed by the level of detail, apparently the author, Dorne or something like that, was still in the training process when she wrote it. She’s even Republic now, interestingly enough, defected a year ago or so. Unfortunately, SIS and internal security makes getting ahold of her a nightmare.”*

 

“No kidding.” Ayrs Martell, conversationalist without peer. No sense in prolonging things, though; I lurched out of my chair and enveloped Rissa in a big hug, which she returned. “Take care of yourself, Ris, and keep in touch, eh?”

 

She backed away from our embrace and looked me square in the eyes, with a look so much softer than that of a drill sergeant but so much harder to look back at. Then she cupped my cheek in her hand and smiled. “You too, Ayrs. I expect to see you on Havoc Squad’s roster soon.” With that, she turned and began walking back towards the tram.

 

“Keeping tabs on me, Ris?”

 

She turned back for a moment and gave me one of her trademark smiles like I hadn’t seen since Corulag. “It may not have worked out with us, but some things will never change. You’ve always made me proud, and you always will. I'm glad we could do this, and i'm glad to see you doing so well."

 

"Me too".

 

Just before she was swallowed up by the crowd, she turned one more time.

 

"Your family would be so proud of you right now."

 

Something caught in my throat, and she was gone before I could respond. My cheek did tingle a bit, though.

 

*

Note: I really liked this little ‘subplot’ from my female trooper/Elara conversations, especially since my college roommate’s excitement at getting a paper of her's published in a journal a few years ago was so similar to Elara’s.

 

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Not really pleased with this one, but he's got to join Havoc and get the main story started, so onward!

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

 

New orders were supposed to be coming in soon, so I abused my HoloNet privileges to check in with Mori and Drav for an extra few minutes. They seemed to be really enjoying their work with the geological office, which made no sense to me, but then again not much about them - especially Drav - ever did. It'd felt good to catch up, even made up for not being able to get ahold of Ris. The cold beer before bed felt good too.

 

It'd been another night of dreamless sleep when I was awakened by a knock on my door. I opened an eye and peered at the time. Still an hour to go. With a loud groan, I rolled onto my side and then swung my body so my feet touched the ground. The knocking returned, more insistent this time, but I was going to take my time. Hopefully the Empire wasn’t doing something crazy like invading Corellia or something, because I wasn’t going to be rushed at this hour.

 

Shuffling over to the door, I yawned, stretched a few times, then slapped a hand against the control panel to open it. Awaiting me wasn’t another candidate or – thankfully – Drav, but Major Lon Anderson, the ranking officer. I snapped to attention and fired off the most professional salute I’d given since joining up.

 

“Sir, what can I do for you?”

 

He jerked a thumb out the window and over to the administration building. “You’re needed. Congratulations, son.”

 

And with that, maybe the second thing he’d said to me since I got here, he was gone. Well, they never said SpecOps troopers were trained to be social.

 

I shrugged, more to myself than anything, and quickly pulled on my non-combat fatigues. When I was younger, a wakeup like this would have been most unwelcome, but these days I didn’t have any pleasant dreams to be shaken from. Maybe if I was lucky, I would get some kind of posting on a world where I could let myself be distracted for once. Maybe with a Zeltron or something. I stopped for a moment, feeling the strong urge to slap myself in the face for that one.

 

Shivering a bit from the morning chill, I trudged across the under-lit campus, mulling over the possibilities in my head. Maybe the 23rd needed me back, maybe Drav had named me in a plot to seize control of the Hutt Cartel, maybe someone had finally realized it’d been me stealing extra chocolate cake from the mess hall back on Corulag. I strode through the main door, hoping I looked more in control than I felt. A protocol droid was waiting for me. Oh boy.

 

“Greetings, kind sir, May I please direct you to Conference Room 23…”

 

I kept walking, couldn’t stand protocol droids. Bad enough when it was another person telling you what to do, what to think, where to sit. Even worse when it was some metal contraption yapping at you, I couldn’t even imagine being one of those people that had one around all the time like some mechanical butler. No matter, a couple more corridors and I could see what warranted getting me out of bed forty six minutes early.

 

The doors opened with a loud Tsssssssh and I came face to face with a life size holo of…

 

“General Garza! Sir, it’s an honor.” I snapped back to attention, and did my best to at least match the salute I’d given to Major Anderson minutes before.

 

She looked a little amused by my gung-ho soldier routine and waved at me to let me know I could relax.

 

“Specialist Ayrs Martell. It is my honor to inform you that have been selected to join Havoc Squad.” I practically soiled myself at that, but she kept going. “In addition, in light of your meritorious service in your previous tour and outstanding achievement in singlehanded preventing the capture of Counselor Matrik on Bantonin, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Sergeant, First Class. You will have two days to arrange your effects and any personal matters that need to be taken care of, then you are expected to report to Hanger Bay 36A for briefing. Congratulations, Sergeant.”

 

My mouth was dry and I felt a bit dizzy. I wondered if this was what Drav felt like when he couldn’t think of something witty to say.

 

“Th-thank you, Sir. I can’t tell you how much this means to me, how much it would have meant to my parents and family too.” She smiled at that, one of those small knowing smiles that people give when they know more than you do, but also more than they could ever share. It was also a little scary, coming from Elin Garza.

 

“It seems soldiering – and serving the Republic – runs in your blood, sergeant. Your mother was a fine soldier as well, an example for us all. And an even better woman.”

 

I’d almost forgotten that my mother had served under Garza, all those years ago. Mom didn’t talk about her military days much, said she didn’t want to influence us kids too much when it came to planning our future. Not that that had done much to dissuade me from leaving for the academy…leaving my family behind. I winced slightly. Focus, the general deserves better than to have you reminiscing like some idiot.

 

“She always spoke very highly of you, sir. Said it was an honor to serve under you, and she always meant what she said.”

 

Garza – well, her holo - looked over my shoulder for a moment, but her gaze was unfocused so I didn’t know if it was something I said, boredom or her trying to identify something across the room. “Your family is a proud one, Sergeant, and serves as an example to us all.”

 

“The galaxy calls, my families answer.” To my surprise, that managed to inspire a real smile from her. It was the same feeling I’d had when I’d finally managed to leave Drav speechless once. And still no cam to get proof. After her smile died off, I finally took the plunge. I had to, or that nagging feeling in my stomach would eat a hole through me. “Sir, might I ask a somewhat pointed question?”

 

The holo nodded.

 

“I guess I just don’t understand why I was chosen for this position over some of the others. They’ve been in the service for far longer, I’m only a little over a year out of the academy. Not that I’m complaining, sir.”

 

She looked off to the side for a moment; I recognized a time-buying habit when I saw one, but her response was as forceful as if it was prepared. “Your family has served the Republic with distinction for generations, and your own service has been extraordinary. You, personally, have overcome great personal tragedy to put the needs of the galaxy above your own. The experience comes with time, your talent and determination do not.”

 

“So I’m getting the spot for a bit of PR? Sir?”

 

Garza shook her head. “No, you misunderstand. The Republic cannot rely on old institutions and traditions to justify itself to its people and the galaxy, it needs to demonstrate strength. We must show we will fight the Empire wherever it threatens our people and their freedom, in space, in the skies, on the ground. We will be the vanguard of the Republic’s victory, fighting the battles that need winning. Your name may never be remembered, but your actions will be”

 

I wasn’t sure how much of that I believed, but she believed it, which was good enough for me. Hell, I was always a sucker for good speeches in the holovids too.

 

“Yes, sir. I won’t let you down.”

 

The general’s face softened somehow, almost reminding me of Mom for a moment, and her voice felt softer too.

 

“You never have.”

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Oops, been awhile.

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

 

Ord Mantell was not what I would call a vacation spot, far from it. In some ways, it reminded me of back home - especially the way the majority of the galaxy tried to pretend it didn't exist - but there was a sense of wrongness to the place. Maybe it was because I was used to the green hills and plains of Ithaca and not the mountainous terrain and islands of this world. Maybe it was the fact that everything I read suggested the local government was more corrupt than the bastard love child of a Hutt, a Sith and a Republic politician. Either way, something had unsettled my stomach since the moment I touched the surface.

 

I'd been met at the spaceport by Bex Kolos, a.k.a. "Gearbox", the squad technician. BIg guy, even bigger than me. Seemed solid enough, even if his jokes were even worse than mine. Once we got past a delightful separatist ambush of our convoy to Fort Garnik, things were pretty straightforward, though. The introductions to the rest of the squad were interesting, to put it mildly.

 

Harron Tavus was...disappointing...if I could call one of the great heroes of the Republic that. He was firm, but also respectful of my previous service, something I appreciated. Still, he seemed like he was carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders, like he was weary of our mission before it had even begun. His XO was Zora, who seemed to have been transplanted from some kind of cheesy adventure novel. Cold as ice, that one - professional, but I felt like little more than a piece of meat when she looked at me. And not that kind of meat. Fuse, Vanto Bazren, seemed alright, though it felt a bit weird to be saluting him and calling him sir when he felt greener than a tank of kolto.

 

And then there was Rylar Dorant, "Needles", the squad medic who looked like he'd been transplanted from the nightmares of someone who had a phobia about the medical profession. Maybe it was the cybernetics, but I shuddered involuntarily whenever I saw him, even if he'd done nothing to deserve it. He's just creepy, it's not rational, just is. Of course, he wasn't the real problem. No, that would be Lieutenant Aric Jorgan, professional *** and officer-on-loan from the Ord Mantell infantry to assist in coordinating our efforts on the planet. Jorgan seemed to take pleasure in berating me at every opportunity and insulting my experience with the 23rd. I understood why everyone on Ord Mantell was so miserable, with him around.

 

Today, the rest of the squad was off on separate recon missions, still trying to track down various sources of information on where the ZR-57 bomb might have been spirited off to. My mission was a simple one, rendezvous with a civilian contact named Bellis, who had reported in with the prearranged signal that he might have found something important. Jorgan had hinted - not all that subtly - that he barely considered me qualified even for that, so I aimed to shut him up as best I could. I was relieved not to run into either the medical officer or Cathar who'd confronted me about the lost medical supplies. Both had wanted the entire lot for themselves, but I couldn't see it being right that either group was left wanting, so I had split the supplies evenly between them. Neither had commented so far, and I hoped it stayed that way.

 

Talloran Village wasn't a safe place any more - Separatists had boldly moved into the settlement only a few days before my arrival, and a large number of civilians had fled for the fort's safety. Bellis had set the meet up for a quiet alley in disputed territory, as he and his wife had chosen to remain in their house on the separatist side of town to maintain his cover. I'd colored my armor a more neutral dark green and blue to try to avoid drawing attention, but I was still more than a little nervous. Sooner I get this over with, the better.

 

I rounded the corner, arriving almost precisely at the arranged time, but saw no one. I carefully made my way forward, maybe he was just trying to find some cover to stay out of view of any curious eyes, then tripped over something and nearly fell flat on my face. A corpse. Kark. A corpse with an identification card that named him as none other than our source, Bellis. Damnit. I tapped my comm to make a call I was not looking forward to.

 

"Lieutenant Jorgan, this is Sergeant Martell. I've reached the rendezvous point, but Bellis is dead, his corpse was left here. No sign of who did it, but we can assume it was the separatists."

 

His response was no more pleasant than the news. "Way to blow the op, rookie."

 

I bristled at that - even if I'd done nothing wrong - and I knew I hadn't - my time with the 23rd meant I was anything but a rookie. "I got here as fast as I could, sir.

 

"Not fast enough. Get over to Bellis' house and see if you can get his field box. If you think you can handle that much work, that is."

 

I wondered - more like hoped - that someone, somewhere, would soon develop the technology to punch someone in the face over a comm. Instead, I settled for a dig-and-run.

 

"Maybe if I had all of your years of experience with....running...I'd get places faster. Sir.." I cut the channel off before he could get a response in.

 

Getting to Bellis' place was less of a problem than I had thought it might be; quiet night in Talloran, I guess. Not going to look a gift bantha in the mouth, though. I knocked on the door twice, then rang the doorbell three times, to let his wife know that it was a Republic-friendly person. The door slid open, almost hesitantly, and I made my way in.

 

A petite woman with brown hair was sitting at the kitchen table, mulling things over a cup of coffee. Bellis' wife. Lin, if I remember right. I grimaced, this was going to be painful for the both of us. She looked up as she heard my feet sc****** the hardwood floor, narrowed eyes and a suspicious look on her face.

 

"What are you doing here? You'll blow my husband's cover, coming here like this!"

 

My stomach did a slight roll to the right, but there was no point in beating around the bush.

 

"Ma'am, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but your husband...your husband is dead. He was killed by separatists before I could meet him. I brought you his identification card, and I'm here for his box. A lot of innocent lives are at stake and your husband can still save them." I placed the card on the table, slid it towards her, and waited for the explosion. When it came, it was more sedate than I had expected.

 

"You got him killed. You and that damn Republic of yours. Bellis was a good man, trying to do the right thing, and you got him killed." She shook her fist in the air, then turned her gaze towards me. I felt like her eyes could pierce my armor. "What do you have to say for yourself? Or are you just here for the box, so you can go back to the fort and clean the blood off your hands?"

 

I winced at that.

 

"Ma'am, there's nothing I could say to ease the pain you're feeling, Your husband was doing his part for the galaxy, and he deserved better. I know the pain you're going through; it's not something words can ever fix. Only time. And that pain never really goes away, it's always there, echoing in your heart every time you think of what you've lost."

 

She didn't seem convinced. Instead, she was still quite angry. "What do you know of loss?" She laughed bitterly. "This should be interesting."

 

So I told her. I started slowly, but soon the words were coming out of me and I couldn't stop them, like the water flow from a faucet turning into a full-blown waterfall.

 

"I was at the academy when some pirates hit my homeworld. Killed a few thousand people, took thousands more as slave. Killed my entire family; mom, two sisters and my little brother. Pop was already gone, serving the Republic like Bellis. Left a girl back there when I went to the academy, sweet girl named Ariel. Thought we had the future ahead of us, until I ran off to Corulag, never told her what she had meant to me after things fell apart, then never could."

 

I took a breath. She was looking at me, more curiously than anything.

 

"Had a great girl when I was at the academy, Rissa, better than I deserved. Let her down too, couldn't make it work, wasn't there when she needed me. Story of my life, really, but at least she's still alive, will still find happiness some day. Me? Well, I wake up every morning trying to convince myself that I'm fighting for something real. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. So, I guess I just remind myself I'm fighting for people like Rissa and my friend Dravis, and my third cousins - twice removed - and people like you and Bellis. Have to find something, or you end up feeling empty inside."

 

She opened her mouth, about to say something, then clamped it shut. I was still going, anyway.

 

"I can't tell you that you'll ever be alright with your husband's passing. I'd be lying if I said I was over my family's - it still haunts me, my heart still hurts from my memory of them. But I can tell you that no matter how big of a karking mess this planet is, no matter how corrupt some of the politicians are, no matter how dark the feelings you have are, you'll have at least one soldier out there fighting for the likes of you...and Bellis' memory. I swear to you, on the Maker above, the Force my father served and the Republic my mother did. Your husband's sacrifice will never be told in song or written down in the histories, but he will be remembered. By me, if no-one else."

 

The room fell silent. I shifted my weight awkwardly from one foot to another.

 

"The box is over there, behind the desk." Her words were so quiet I almost didn't hear them. "I hope you're right. About the information....about everything."

 

I nodded slightly, then went over to the desk she had pointed at and pulled out Bellis' box. Inside were discs of information and other intel on the separatists. As I moved towards the door, he looked at me and quietly said, "Thank you for what you said....and I'm sorry."

 

I was already halfway out the door, but I turned back, trying to be as gentle as I could. "So am I, ma'am. Someday, I hope I won't have to be."

 

Even with my pack stuffed with Bellis' box, I felt so much lighter on the way back to Fort Garnik.

Edited by Lesaberisa
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Three days had passed since I'd salvaged Bellis' box.

 

Luckily, the trip to Talloran hadn't been a complete waste; Lieutenant Jorgan had managed to recover most of Bellis' data, which suggested the ZR-57 bomb had been moved to the separatist outpost on Mannett Point. Of course, life couldn't be as easy as dropping in on our rebel friends and securing the bomb - they'd blown the bridge to the mainland, and intel suggested the entire area had been heavily resupplied and reinforced.

 

"Seems to me that Mannett Point is a bit too organized and well-armed for a glorified armed camp, Sir." Lieutenant Jorgan pointed out to Commander during the briefing. "If I didn't know better, I'd say they had Imperial aid coming in, maybe even actual troops on the ground."

 

Tavus shook his head, a bit more dismissively than I'd have expected. "I don't think so, lieutenant. We'd have heard something from our sources if the Imperials were involved. Stay focused." I frowned, but kept my mouth shut. No point in getting in any more trouble. The commander turned to me, "Sergeant, you will rendezvous with Wraith at Mannett Point and secure the ZR-57. Eliminate any opposition you encounter."

 

I saluted. "Yes sir."

 

"Also, I have a pair of requests from Ord Mantell Command. They requested you keep an eye out for Doctor Jaen Kett, who was stranded in Mannett Point when the separatists blew the bridge. Also, there have been reports of several children reported as kidnapped being seen in separatist gear in the area. I'm downloading some of the images the parents from the refugee camp provided into your armor. Consider that a very low priority, though."

 

I saluted again, and made my way to the ready room. Grabbed my gear, a quick bite of a ration bar that tasted like something that came out of the wrong end of a womp rat, and hopped on one of the regulation speeders Havoc had been assigned during its time on Ord Mantell. Sturdy machine, almost as well put-together as my old Orlean Tracker from back home on Ithaca, but not the stealthiest of vehicles and it rattled whenever you pushed it past the speed of a brisk walk.

 

The trip out to the downed walker that was serving as the advanced monitoring post wasn't too bad, apart from a few scattered groups of separatists and the constant nattering from Jorgan over the comm. If I hadn't known better, I might have assumed he was part of some elaborate test of my loyalty to Havoc and its motto of getting the mission done, regardless of the obstacles. Maybe I don't know better too. The hike up the seaside path into Mannett Point itself was a bit more of a hassle, but the separatists had been thankfully lax in guarding it, probably assuming no one would bother trying.

 

Where to first.

 

I could see the small bunker where Wraith would be waiting, but I wasn't sure where the kids might be, or where the doctor would be found. I decided to take a gamble on the latter one, and worked towards the building with the 'Doctor' sign outside. Idiot. The door slid open, and I found myself in a large room full of scared-looking kids, and a man in his early forties looking panicked at my arrival. I held up my hand to let him know to stay calm.

 

"Sir, no need to panic. My name is Ayrs, and I'm with the Republic military. I'm here to get you out of here." What about the kids though? Nothing in the briefing about what to do with them, especially if these weren't the same ones that'd been kidnapped.

 

He shook his head violently. "Not without these children. I don't give a damn about your Republic or your war, just my people. I won't leave without them." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and set his jaw firmly. I couldn't blame him really.

 

"Sir, I understand your frustration. I'll make sure both you and the kids get out of here safely. Trust me." That sparked a bitter laugh.

 

"Just like we trusted the Republic's promises to provide us with an honest government? Or to evacuate us safely when the separatists first came here? Forgive me if I'm having a hard time trusting the Republic or its soldiers right now."

 

I grit my teeth.

 

"Sir, I understand your frustrations as well, but I"m only here to help. I will do all I can to get everyone out of here together, but I need your word that you'll come along." He looked slightly mollified. "If it matters, I'm also here to find some children that were kidnapped by the separatists and, looking around the room, I see more than a few of them here. It's not just my promises, it's our objective."

 

He moved over next to me, looking at the display that popped up when I punched in the code for the data on the children.

 

"Yes, yes, I see. Some of the children were given large amounts of stimulants to...psychologically alter them. They're still in the main separatist base in Mannett Point. If you get them out of there, I will give you my word that I will come to Fort Garnik."

 

"It's a deal, then." I stuck my hand out. He looked at it without moving, and I wondered how many times someone from Ord Mantell had been offered a hand of friendship by someone from the Republic only to be disappointed. He probably expects nothing more than the same. Still, he gripped my hand as firmly as if we were best friends, and I felt pleased with myself as I left to rendezvous with Wraith.

 

I made my across town, trying to take the smaller streets that were both less full of separatists and also afforded me better options for ambushing any that did happen to come by. What looked like a ten minute trip on our holomap only took me five, the slack defending definitely coming in handy yet again. I slipped into Wraith's bunker, and found her working at a console. Disabling security, I assumed. "You're late."

 

Shrugging slightly, I leaned against the wall. "I secured Doctor Kett's cooperation and located some of the missing children. What's up next?" She kept tapping away at her console the entire time, never even bothering to look at me.

 

"I've disabled the outer defenses surrounding the separatist installation. Fuse and Gearbox were monitoring our readings and confirmed the signature of the ZR-57 is present inside. We will both infiltrate the building - you'll need to disable the generator on your way - and secure the bomb."

 

I slipped my helmet back over my head. "Yes sir. I'll see you inside." And then I left.

 

The separatists were real sloppy with their operations. Sure, they had the numbers and tech that intel had mentioned, but they applied them the same way some teenager might use a thesaurus for their paper to 'improve' their vocabulary. It all looked real nice and shiny, but didn't have much substance to it. Three, maybe four, patrols were operating in any kind of useful manner. The rest, I bypassed as easily as my mouth got me into trouble with Jorgan. I slipped into the bunker leaving only a couple of bodies hidden in a utility closet as evidence I was even there.

 

I stepped through a door and entered a medical area of some kind. Three separatists were inside, two standing and one writhing in pain on the bed. They were already raising their hands in surrender before I could even point my blaster rifle at them, except the wounded one. No threat to me at all.

 

"P-p-p-please don't kill us," One of them said, sounding like he might have soiled his pants. "I’ll pay...do...anything."

 

I waved a hand in front of my nose. "Maybe try some adult diapers." His face scrunched up into something inscrutable. "I"m not going to hurt you though, as long as you guys don't go for any weapons. If you turn yourselves in at the nearest Republic post, you'd be better off though."

 

Smiling underneath my helmet, I left them there, and moved to the generator. No guards, no security, no problem. For about the millionth time I wondered how the separatists could be giving us such a hard time; sure, they had some decent equipment, but they didn't have the first idea of how to run an outfit. Then again, not like the local Republic forces are that much better. And having Aric "Demotivation" Jorgan around doesn't help. I shrugged, punched in the deactivation code the commander had given me, retraced my steps into the main corridor, and made my way to where Wraith's indicator had her on the map.

 

I found her holding a pistol to the head of a shaking separatist and without anything resembling the ZR-57 in sight.

 

"It's gone. Go into the next room and take out any Seps in there, grab their info, then get out of here. I'm heading out."

 

I jerked a thumb at the man in front of her. "What about him, sir, need help tying him up?"

 

She pulled the trigger, and the man fell limply to the ground. I stared at her, even as she left the room and then my line of sight. Sure, the guy had been an enemy, but he was probably just some frustrated Mantellian who didn't know what he was guarding. He wasn't some monster. Somehow I doubt Wraith or Tavus care. Shaking a bit, I pressed on to the control center in the room beyond, readying my pistol when I heard voices.

 

Three men, one hunched over a console - probably trying to erase the data before I got there - and two behind a desk. I took out the console user first, bolt between the eyes, then spun to take out both the others with shots to their chests. Only one had even managed to draw his weapon properly. Amateurs. I felt a slight hint of disdain towards them until it occurred to me that it must have been similar when the pirates hit Ithaca. My hand twitched involuntarily, and lunch came up in one ugly mess of vomit and disgust.

 

I moved over to the console and downloaded the data in a daze, then left as quickly as I could. I tried not to picture my friends and family where those three men were. On my way out, I passed a room that was completely bare except for a cot and a kid, maybe fourteen or fifteen, outfitted in separatist gear. I flipped through the photos and recognized one of the missing kids, a boy named Paul. I approached slowly.

 

"Hey son, are you Paul Kriege? Your parents are looking for you."

 

He turned, his eyes blazing with an unnatural hatred. "Paul? There's no Paul here. There's only Bonecrusher, and I will kill you, Republic scum. I will break you in half." I considered that for a moment. What did the Doc say, again? Pumped 'em full of stims? Poor kid probably didn't even remember what he'd had for lunch. I put my hand on his shoulder and - surprisingly - he didn't pull away.

 

"Son, I'm with the Republic. I know your real name is Paul because your parents are looking for you, waiting for you. They miss you, and they want you to go home to them."

 

He looked at me, uncertainty replacing the incoherence. "I can't go back...I can't. They...did things to me, made me do things to other people. I need to get off Ord Mantell, get away from all this. Please, help me and the others here get away, I promise I won't cause any more trouble." He slumped down on the ground, I wasn't sure whether it was the stims wearing off or simply being worn out. I sat down next to him.

 

"I can help you get out of here, no problem. You and everyone else. Just make your way to Dr. Kett's place, and he'll take care of you. But getting you off Ord Mantell? I can't let you do that just like that, kid, I'm sorry. Your parents deserve better, and so do you. When you get back to Fort Granik, go see them, spend time with them, and then make your decision. There's a huge galaxy out there with endless opportunities, but don't be so quick to run away from what you already have. Someday you might want to see your parents' faces or hear their voices and not be able to."

 

He took a deep breath and nodded, more steadily than I'd have expected from the way his body was shaking. "I'll remember that. Thank you...for everything. And I"m sorry about your parents."

 

I patted him on the head gently, and grinned sheepishly. Kid's smarter than he looks. "Don't be, Paul. There's enough people who are sorry out there. Take care of yourself."

 

The stars were shining brightly by the time I'd managed to get out of the compound; two seemed far brighter than the others, shining in tandem. I liked to think it was my parents, stupid as it was.

 

A part of me wanted to wave up at the sky, anyway, just in case.

Edited by Lesaberisa
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Minor story note:

Splitting the last mission in two due to length, this is part 1. Part 2 will be later today or tomorrow

 

 

Additional note: This short story takes place 1-2 nights before the mission, as I note later in this topic. I forgot to include it here and posted it on the Short Fic thread. Correcting that now! Cheers :D

 

 

Five years. Five years since fire raged in the skies and homes of Ithaca. Five years since I had lost my family, my friends, my home. Five years since I had sworn to do something about it. Five years in which I have failed to do anything at all.

 

The holo-image of my family came back into view. It'd been taken on a family trip off-world, the only time I could remember ever doing so until i left for the academy. Ally had been only two, but still proved to be the biggest handful of the four of us. She always was. I smiled wistfully, then gulped down some more of the beer. Pop had gone off on his mission only a few years later, we lost him then. I lost everyone else too.

 

Today always snuck up on me, every year. I wasn't sure if it was because I had enough going on in my life that I wasn't focusing too much on it, or a self-defense mechanism to avoid dealing with it. I was sure the doc back on Corulag would have his theories, but I figured it didn't matter much either way, not unless it was affecting my performance, and I'd been performing even beyond Tavus' expectations.

 

I took a swig of beer, then turned back to the image of my family. It was getting harder to see since something was irritating my eyes and making them watery. I went down to a knee and made the same vow I had for five years running.

 

"I will find the ones responsible. For the lives stolen, the homes broken, the world devastated, the friends and family lost. I will make them understand the pain they have caused and ensure they cannot inflict it on any one else again.

 

I will have the vengeance I desire. They will have the justice they deserve. We will all have the peace we need.

 

I swear this by the Maker, by the Force my father served and the Republic my mother did."

 

Some day, I hoped I wouldn't need to remember it.

 

I glanced over at my holoterminal and saw another message from Kuat. They meant well, but I didn't have time for them. Not today, of all days. Besides, I needed to be up early for the mission so we could get off this hellhole. One last swig of ale, and I was ready for sleep. Maybe I'll call them tomorrow. Or maybe not, we'll see.

 

That night, I dreamed of home.

 

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

 

When I entered the command center, I found only Jorgan waiting for me. Not the most welcome of sights to begin with, let alone when the absence of my squad members made me wonder why I’d been left with the angriest Cathar this side of the of the Hyperian Way. I snapped to attention as he made his way over, looking no more pleased to see me than I was him.

 

“Sergeant, take a seat. You’ll be observing the operation from here with me.” He gave me a pointed look, seeming to take some pleasure in giving me the information. “I thought….maybe….you’d have proven yourself to Commander Tavus but it looks like he isn’t ready to rely on you in the field.”

 

I pursed my lips, trying desperately to keep my big mouth shut long enough to avoid getting myself in trouble. Tavus was wrong, I knew I was ready, but I also knew my place as the newest member of Havoc and if it meant sitting this fight out, then I’d have to suck it up and move on. I nodded at the lieutenant and took a seat behind him as he paced behind a pair of technicians and a radio operator.

 

“Any news from the squad, sir?”

 

He shook his head and narrowed his eyes, focusing intently on one of the displays. “We did find out that some relatively high ranking members of various terrorist and underworld groups are holding a meeting in the main separatist base, where the ZR-57 is, but not much else. Good work with that separatist sympathizer, by the way. You must be very persuasive” His look suggested the praise was largely genuine, so I wasn’t going to fight it.

 

I favored him with a conspiratorial grin. “I’ve been told I’m charming, from time to time.”

 

I reclined back into the chair, folding my arms behind me and resting my head in my hands. He barked a harsh laugh in response, marking the second time he'd done something other than complain about me or insult me in less than a minute. Must be some kind of record, I hope someone's recording this.

 

“Sir, sir. We have a problem.” The radio operator seemed to be hyperventilating. “We’ve lost contact with Havoc Squad.”

 

Jorgan was hovering over the man’s shoulder in a flash, taking in the data on his screen. “I don’t understand, their radio signals just switched off. If it was interference, we should have seen it before. We need to find out what’s going on.” His eyes moved from the panel to me. “We need you to get inside the base and find out where the squad is and assist in recovering the ZR-57. I’ll monitor from here.”

 

“Might the commander be doing something that requires them to break any contact, sir?”

 

He shook his head, much more vehemently than he had a few minutes before. “Can’t risk letting that bomb off Ord Mantell, can’t risk the entire operation. The squad may have been compromised, we don’t know. I’ll run it by General Vander once you’re out, but we can’t waste any more time. Gear up and move out.” I saluted and moved for the barracks.

 

Ten minutes later, I was on my way on a personal speeder to Crater Base, a small fortification that the Republic had built to monitor the large separatist base to the northwest of Fort Garnik. I still wasn’t quite sure how I was going to find my squad mates once I was inside but I wasn’t exactly sure how I was going to get into the base to begin with. I’d been briefed on Havoc’s operational plan, but the commander had designed it knowing he had a full squad to fall back on, I was on my own unless I could scrounge up some reinforcements at the base. If you’re lucky. You’re not, though..

 

Once I arrived at the base I was beyond thrilled to be wrong on that score. The 29th and 33rd Battalions from Whirlwind Company were stationed there for reconnaissance, and they looked to be bored out of their mind. I made way over to the woman who appeared to be in command, a Captain Shepard. I snapped to attention and saluted her, trying my best not to show my appreciation for her...unit. Her unit being here. I coughed.

 

“Sir, Sergeant Martell from Havoc Squad. I’m on a priority mission with my squad and need to double time it up to the separatist base, but I could use your help to get inside. You can contact Lieutenant Aric Jorgan, on authority of General Vander. Sir.” I hoped like hell that Jorgan had managed to get ahold of the general, or I’d be in for it.

 

She smiled tightly at that.

 

“We’re aware of the general situation, General Vander commed ahead of your arrival. We’ve been prepped and ready to go. Well, ready once you got here, that is, Sergeant.” I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the look she gave me, but I didn’t have time for that. “Can you give me any more information before I speak to my men?”

 

Tricky question. Havoc’s operation here was highly classified, of course, basically everything we did was. On the other hand, I didn’t feel quite right getting Captain Shepard’s troops involved in the mission without some warning of both the risks and high stakes involved.

 

“Sir, Havoc was assigned here as part of a classified mission to track down some …. misappropriated equipment. We’ve lost contact with the squad from HQ, and it’s up to me to reconnect with them and ensure the mission is completed. I need help to do it, though, I’m good with infiltration but not good enough to get into that place on my own on top of everything else. I just need some cover if things get hairy; get in, secure the bomb if necessary, determine the situation. Sir.”

 

She nodded quickly, then turned to brief her men on the additional details. I hit the fresher and grabbed a couple of nutrient bars for my pack, I didn’t know how much time would pass before I got another chance to do either, and it’d be inconvenient to have to take a bathroom break in the middle of a base full of hostile separatists. Then again, their freshers couldn’t be as bad as Fort Garnik’s, right?

 

We made the climb in total silence, passing past the outposts and checkpoints the other units from her company had set up, and crawled into position across from a service access corridor that some advance units had been fighting over with separatist defenders. She motioned me over and drew a map of the complex in the sand, marking heavily defended positions with an x and circling the power station where we’d traced the ZR-57’s signature to.

 

“We’ll help you make a push into the first level and hold positions here and here.” She marked two more spots with triangles. “I’ll send a third squad to hold the cargo lift that’ll take you up to the third floor, but that’s pushing it. If General Vander can send reinforcements, I’ll push further in, if I can, but once the garrison figures out where we are and what we’re up to we’re going to face some nasty resistance. I can’t jeopardize my units’ survival.” She paused. "Command's hitting the main entrance regularly anyway, but the general will make sure they keep the pressure up to draw attention away as much as they can. Hopefully enough time for you to complete your objectives and get the hell out of there."

 

I nodded once and tapped her shoulder twice to let her know I’d be using the second tactical frequency over the comm. Havoc had been using the first and might have been compromised, and I didn’t want any separatist scouts in the base or sympathizers in the Republic and governmental ranks to overhear anything or read my lips.

 

“Rough Riders, move out!” I heard the captain call behind me as we made our push, dodging some mild defensive fire that disappeared quickly enough when the local commander opened up with his heavy artillery. We sprinted across what had previously been no-man’s land and took a quick moment to regroup once we’d made it through the outer walls. There were some scattered Republic troops further in, but we’d be making our way through some of the service corridors to try to avoid the strongest resistance in this sector.

 

Something smells terrible here. I hope it’s not me.

 

We moved slowly but purposefully, doing our best to avoid making any noise, as it’d be rather inconvenient to alert any separatists to our presence. We hit the main junction in ten minutes flat, three minutes ahead of the schedule I’d worked out in my head when I’d been talking to Captain Shepard. Now it’s my turn. I tossed a quick, almost imperceptible, salute to her, then removed the dye modules from my pack. One-time use only, annoyingly enough, but they’d allow me to color my armor to fit in with the separatists and hopefully avoid at least some of the attention I’d otherwise get.

 

When I finished, I moved towards the cargo lift, trying to balance a purposeful gait with appearing like I fit in with the rest of the group congregating down there. I was glad for my helmet, since I was nervous as hell and didn’t want to prematurely alert anyone to my presence. Fortunately, in armor, no one can see you sweat. I tipped my head at the five separatists at the platform and stepped on the lift, using the two minute trip up to collect myself and take some deep breaths.

 

The lift got to the second floor, which looked pretty clear as far as I could tell. There were some loud rumbling from somewhere ahead of me, a useful – if unintentional – distraction. I passed a pair of rooms full of wounded separatists and some medical personnel and found myself in a detention area that had been abandoned due to the fighting at the main gates. The only prisoner left in the room, a wormy looking Rodian, called me over.

 

“You there, there’s no need to keep me locked up. I have an arrangement with the Republic and can be sure you are properly compensated.” He flashed a grin that irritated me more than anything. I raised an eyebrow in response, but started punching in the deactivation sequence for his cell’s force fields. A prisoner of the separatists with an arrangement with the Republic was worth busting out. “Who knew the Republic would be so desperate as to work with Veem Set, pirate and raider of the Outer Rim?”

 

I felt some bile rising in my throat and had to make an extraordinary effort to keep my voice level. “You’re a pirate? Were you involved in that big run of hits on colony worlds oh….three, four years back?” The force fields flickered and went out, and Veem Set gleefully pranced out of the cell.

 

“Yes, some of my finest work, I’m happy to see it’s so well known. What did you think of it.”

 

I drew my pistol and aimed it squarely at his head. "Don't think much of you at all."

 

He didn’t so much as flinch, pushing past me and making his way to the exit. “What are you going to do, kill me? You don’t have the stomach for it, whoever you are.” He laughed, and continued walking, passing a pair of barrels that looked to contain some kind of explosive material. I lowered my aim and fired a bolt into each barrel, setting off an explosion that would probably draw too much unwanted attention but felt deeply satisfying.

 

I kicked his corpse over with my foot. “Who’s laughing now, you piece of filth?”

 

My comm beeped twice. The captain.

 

“Sergeant Martell, we picked up an explosion, do you require assistance?”

 

I shook my head, then realized a visual gesture wouldn’t do much for her comprehension unless she could see through walls and floors. “No sir, just had to burn through some resistance. I’m almost to the control room, ETA five minutes.”

 

Another two beeps, and I was off.

 

Time to figure out what the hell is going on.

Edited by Lesaberisa
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Leaving the charred corpse of Veem Set behind, I took a quick peek at my in-helm display to confirm how much further I had to go to get to the control room Jorgan had marked on my map. Two hallways, some sort of large meeting area, then get through an entry of some kind and I’m there. Simple enough, except if I run into some friends. I could hear the sound of some heavy footsteps from the corridor I’d come from, so I would have to move quickly. Recolored armor or not, at least some of the separatists would be smart enough to connect the flame-broiled Rodian with the strangely silent trooper wearing slightly charred armor.

 

I hustled through the first hallway and following room easy enough, since there wasn’t anyone in them other than a single separatist who was too busy cowering in the corner to notice me. The second room had some technicians, who looked at me curiously, but didn’t seem too bothered. I was feeling rather pleased with myself until I got to the doorway that led to the corridor to the control room. Standing in front of the hatch was a separatist officer, long raid hair. Reminded me of Ariel for a moment. With her were two heavily armed troops.

 

“You, what are you doing here? What’s your authorization?”

 

I gulped. I was a good shot, but these separatists looked a lot meaner than the others I’d been fighting and I couldn’t guarantee more than a single shot at them even if I had my fastest draw. Might not even get that one shot off depending on how good they were. I decided to try a more subtle approach, instead.

 

“Hey there, pretty lady. I was hoping to see you here. I’ve heard all about you from my sources. Only good things, I promise.” I flashed the smile of a used hover car salesman at her before realizing that it wasn’t likely to make much of an impression if it was coming from behind a helmet. My opening seemed to have taken her off guard, though, so no matter. “I hope you can say the same about me. I’d be happy to prove myself in any way you deem appropriate. Or inappropriate, if that’s how you like it.”

 

“I…uh. Hmm.” She blushed slightly, her cheeks matching her hair. “Who are you again?”

 

My mind flashed through possible names as quickly as I could. I intelligently decided to drop any that could or would be easily traced to the Republic. I contemplated using Dravis’ name but he might well have some kind of convoluted connection to the Mantellian separatists. Finally, I came to the first name that made sense, a separatist spy who’d busted out of Garnik that we’d been warned about.

 

“My name’s Skavak. And I’d love to talk to you sometime to tell you more.” Her blush deepened a bit, and I felt a little guilty, she seemed nice. She might be a separatist, but she might have good reasons for being here. Or she reminds you of your dead high school sweetheart and you're too soft-hearted as it is. “If you need further identification, I can show you some hard proof then, too.”

 

She shook her head and waved me forward, apparently not trusting herself enough to speak. The other two separatists were rolling their eyes so hard I could hear it through their helms. Havoc Squad, finding a way. I was glad they hadn’t asked me to take my helmet off, because my face was as red as hers.

 

I continued forward through the first room, which seemed to be used for little more than storage, then activated the door to the second room. It wasn’t even halfway open when my heart stopped and something nasty sank to the pit of my stomach.

 

Imperial troops. I'd know their armor anywhere. When Mom had taught us to shoot, it’d been at Sith and Imperial targets, and these guys were those target dummies in the flesh. There were 8 of them, two packs of three near the entrance and the ranking officer and an aide by the control panel I needed to use. Bluffing past these guys wasn’t going to be possible.

 

“What’re you doing here?” Spotted already, slick.

 

I responded carefully, slurring my words as much as possible. “Heyyyy there. I was just lookin’ for th’ cantina. Let off some steam, ye know what I mean?” I staggered towards one of the trios of Imperials, as if to slap them on the back or commiserate. “It’s so hard to stay focused, heh heh, so much going on. You guys know where to find a good woman ‘round these parts?” My hand was already sliding to my pistol, adjusting its firing rate.

 

The Imperials exchanged glances . A couple of them chuckled and I heard one make a jab at the ‘Mantellian yokels.” I grimaced slightly, then swept my blaster out of its holster, scything fire across the three Imperials in front of me, who went down in a heap. The officer in the back of the room reacted the fastest, which surprised me, but his reaction was simply to throw himself behind the desk, pulling his aide down with him to use as a human shield of sorts. No time for distractions

 

The second group of Imperials was already tracking me, so I crouched behind one of the computer consoles for cover. A lucky shot picked one of them off when he leaned too far out of cover to try to spot me, but the other two were being a lot more careful. Luckily, we have tools for these types of situations. I grabbed a grenade from my belt and hurled it in their direction. Three seconds later, It was all over. The Imperials nearest me were all dead, blaster holes in their armor smoking. I wasn’t sure I really needed to see what the other group looked like.

 

I looked over at the officer and his aide and saw them still rooted in place, exactly where they’d been when the firefight broke out. I made my way towards them, brandishing my pistol to let them know I was serious. “In the name of the Galactic Republic, I order you to surrender.” I hoped they’d make it easy on themselves, not just for their sake, but so I could get some information out of them.

 

The officer made an obscene gesture, but remained hiding. “I will not surrender to the likes of you. My goodness, you look as if you just dragged yourself out of the streets. I would rather die than be manhandled by a ragamuffin such as you.”

 

He’d barely finished his speech when the aide brought a piece of computer equipment down on his head, leaving him sprawled and unconscious on the floor. “You might be willing to die, but I’m not.” I grinned, despite my best efforts to remember that the officer was far more likely to have valuable information than an aide.

 

“You made the right decision, maybe you can make a couple more. I’m looking for a piece of misplaced Republic equipment, we tracked it to this room, but it’s not here anymore. I’m also looking for some of my friends.”

 

He looked at me, curiously, for a moment. “I don’t know about your friends, but I know about your ZR-57 bomb that was being kept here. They moved it out only a little bit ago, took it up to a hangar to get it off planet. You might still catch up to it, but if I were you, I’d just deactivate it from this console and high tail it out of here.”

 

I moved over to the panel he’d pointed out and began reviewing the displays; the bomb’s control codes and authorizations were indeed loaded into the machine, and I had full access. I turned back to the aide. “Why’re you doing this? I ain’t complaining, but you’re a lot more cooperative than most Imperials I know.”

 

“I’m not an Imperial.” His voice was loud now, angry. “I’m a Mantellian, tired of the crap the government your Republic supports does. But that doesn’t mean I have any love for the Imps or what they’d do with a weapon like that. Blasted Imps sold us out, bringing in mercs and pirates, practically taking over the movement without anyone realizing it”

 

Fair enough. I kept at it with the computer, made it past the security checks and started programming a kill command to ensure the bomb could never be used. Reverse-engineered, maybe, but there was only so much I could do until I found Havoc. And even then, not sure I could make it there in time.

 

“What are the Imperials doing here anyway?”

 

He shrugged. “Well, I don’t know when it all started. I know this guy,” he jerked his thumb at the unconscious officer, “came to help oversee a ‘special pick-up’. I assume that's the bomb.” I nodded, and finished up my work on the console. From the information I’d downloaded into my armor, I had maybe fifteen minutes to get to the bomb, but even if I did, I wasn’t sure I was up to disarming it or disabling it enough to keep the Imperials and separatists from getting anything from it.

 

Have to try though. Have to find my squad. Not going to leave them behind, not leaving anyone behind.

 

“You should get yourself out of here while you can, go home, find your family. Keep them safe.” Like I could not. “If any Republic troops come poking around, you tell them Ayrs Martell will vouch for you.”

 

I didn’t have time to wait for his response, didn't have much time for anything. I suddenly realized the separatists I’d had to talk my way past on the way in would most assuredly have heard the ruckus inside and would be a lot harder to get past on the way out. I hoped the fact they hadn’t followed me in meant I was getting lucky and, for the second time today, I was rewarded with an empty corridor. I glanced to my right and saw them hunched over the Rodian corpse a couple of rooms down. I took a deep breath and sighed with relief.

 

Back on Ithaca we had people like Fillo MacTyre in charge who made sure things were done the right way. These people have been bled dry by a bunch of corrupt bureaucrats. They deserve better, even if they’re fighting the wrong way.

 

I kept moving, thanking the Maker that the assault on the main gates had really thinned out the garrison in this area. I hoped Captain Shepard and her men were doing alright, too. I eliminated a pair of separatists that were blocking the way into the service corridor I needed to head down, then put my head down and hoofed it. Didn’t have time to be subtle any more, not with the Imperials about to load that bomb onto a transport to do Force knows what with it. Fuse had mentioned it being enormously destructive, and I knew all too well from Mom’s stories what that would mean if the Empire got its hands on it.

 

Fuse…I wonder where he is. Where they all are. They must have made it, they’re Havoc Squad, they don’t let just anyone in

 

My armor display beeped at me, I was almost there; hangar bay about a couple hundred meters ahead with the door guarded by a group of six bored-looking separatists. If I’d had time, I would have tried to get them to surrender, go home, live their lives – like the aide back in the control center – but I didn’t. After meeting more than my fair share of decent-seeming separatists today, I wasn’t quite as eager to run up a kill count as I might have been earlier, but I had no choice. Kark that, you always have a choice, sometimes it’s just a hard one.

 

No time for handwringing over the ethics of killing a separatist patrol, anyway.

 

Grenade. Pull the pin, release it. Rifle on auto, clean up that mess. Don’t give them time to recover, don’t give them time to get back on their feet.

 

All six lay dead at their post, I hoped the rumbling from out front covered as much of the sound as possible. The hangar doors were fused shut from inside, which was frustrating, but I’d been top of my class on Corulag and Corellia for a reason, and a minute of slicing did the trick. The doors, both about as big as any I’d ever seen, slid open to reveal the hangar bay.

 

It was mostly empty, medium-sized Monitor-class shuttlecraft with some small cargo littered around it but no sign of the ZR-57; obviously the Imperials were almost ready to go. There were people on the other side of the craft, and coming down the shuttle ramp was…

 

“Commander Tavus? Sir? What are you and the squad doing here?” I wanted to wipe my eyes to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. The hell is going on? “We lost contact with you.” I kept walking towards him, never noticing the shadow behind me until I felt the cold metal of the barrel of Wraith’s pistol on the back of my helmet.

 

“I can take him, sir. Your orders?”

 

Is she nuts?

 

The commander looked at me sadly, like Mom or Pop had when they had to tell me an inconvenient or unpleasant truth. I didn’t think I would like what he would have to say, and the queasy feeling in my stomach didn’t help.

 

“I wish you hadn’t come, soldier, you weren’t a part of this. Weren’t meant to be a part either.” He turned his attention to the Mirialan behind me. “Stand down, Wraith, the sergeant deserves to know what’s going on.” And, just like that, the shadow was gone.

 

Tavus’ face looked friendly enough, but the shiver down my spine and the tingling sensation in my hand ruined my attempt to stay calm. “Sir, you’re in possession of the ZR-57, and we’re supposed to be disarming it and then bringing it back to the Republic. Why’s the squad packing it up and getting ready for an extended getaway?” I don’t know why I asked, maybe some stupid part of me hoped I was seeing something that wasn’t there.

 

“Soldier, we’re not going back to the Republic, ever. It betrayed us on Ando Prime, and we aren’t going to give it a second chance. It has forsaken its soldiers, its duty to defend its worlds and citizens and is too afraid to challenge to Empire to preserve itself.”

 

I had no idea who or what Ando Prime was, but it didn’t really matter. “So what, sir? You’re running away to become a merc-.” I cut myself off when one of the figures behind the shuttle came into view. “You’re joining the Imperials? Is this some kind of bad joke?”

 

Tavus looked slightly uncomfortable, Fuse was even worse off. Wraith looked nonplussed, though, and Gearbox and Needles were positively giddy.

 

“Give it up kid. Just go home to your Republic and you’ll see we’re right. The Republic won’t win this war because it refuses to let its soldiers fight.” Gearbox never knew when to shut up.

 

I turned on him. More than likely, I was a dead man either way. “You tell yourself that, but the Republic wouldn’t be forced into fighting if it weren’t for the Empire trying its best to stomp out any civilization that doesn’t rely on murder, slavery and repression. I don’t think you’re afraid the Republic will lose the war, I think you all are just afraid you can’t cut it anymore.”

 

Tavus and Gearbox laughed, but Fuse was still sweating away. Needles was smirking, and Wraith had a firm set to her jaw, her hand resting on her pistol while she shot lasers at me with her eyes.

 

“You’re all cowards, nothing more. You talk about being betrayed by the Republic, but you run off to serve under the boot of the Sith. What karking good is that doing anyone, especially the people you’re supposedly so worried about.”

 

He slashed his hand across his chest in his frustration. “You weren’t on Ando Prime. You didn’t fight in the last war. You didn’t see what I did. The Republic is a lost cause, an empty shell being propped up with the blood and sweat of the everyday soldier. You think the Supreme Chancellor gives a damn about Ord Mantell? You think the Jedi give a second thought to the Outer Rim or Balmorra?”

 

My laugh was a bitter one.

 

“Why, because the Empire does? Last time I checked, they were busy enslaving and butchering populations for being non-human.” I glanced over to Wraith at that, but she had no reaction. “You think you can make the Empire all better by joining them? They’ll use you, and once they’ve used you they’ll throw you out like the garbage you all are.”

 

This time, it was Wraith that replied. “The Imperials respect strength. They will honor our commitment and recognize our contribution.”

 

“I hope they enjoy a deactivated bomb. Most expensive toy in the galaxy."

 

“Nice try.” The commander’s voice was firm enough, but he seemed slightly rattled. He glanced down at something on his armor’s display, then returned my gaze.

 

“Out of time, soldier. I take it there’s no point in asking you to come with us, then?”

 

I responded by spitting at his feet. “There’s a special place in hell for traitors, I’ll make sure you end up there.”

 

The rest of the traitors had been filing into the shuttle without me noticing, Tavus followed them. “I’m sorry it ended up like this, you are an exceptional soldier. Your mother was too. But I can’t have someone like you running after me, too risky for us. Havoc only takes the best.” He turned and made his way into the shuttle.

 

“The worst, too.” The taste in my mouth was almost as bitter as the day I had found out about home. The shuttle’s engines gave a sharp whine and the repulsorlifts created a shimmering as it lifted off the ground. “I swear, I won’t rest until I’ve hunted you all down. Especially you, Tavus. I’ll find you, you son of a b-.” A blaster bolt flashed past my head, and I realized the Imperials in the hangar were more interested in a fight than finding a way out.

 

I was happy to oblige.

 

When it was over, I surveyed the scene, putting another bolt into one of the Imperials who was trying to get back up. The shuttle was long gone, and my time was up. I had nothing else keeping me here. The bomb was lost to the Imperials, my squad lost to some fit of madness, my sense of purpose lost somewhere in between.

 

What did I keep telling myself, leave no one behind? I laughed bitterly, then cursed my naivety, my stupidity.

 

I heard something over the comm system that ran through the base, it sounded like we’d broken through the front, and the separatists were going to throw everything they had to try to hang on. Perfect time to make a stealthy exit back to Captain Shepard, and then the fort. I was too scared to think about what would happen after that. Or what Jorgan would say.

 

All I knew is I had more names on my list, and that I needed a cold shower.

 

And a stiff drink.

Edited by Lesaberisa
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Notes:

 

I was kind of dumb and forgot to post something I added to the short story thread in the proper chronological order that somewhat relates to the end of this post. I've added it in the spoiler tags before post #13. Nothing too dramatic, but some background I should have added already. Mea culpa.

 

Thalia is Ayrs' maternal grandmother's cousin.

 

 

The short, completely silent, speeder ride back to Fort Garnik was a welcome respite from everything that had happened today. I needed to think things over, to figure out what had happened, exactly. Somehow, I was going to have to explain how my entire squad had defected from right under my nose without me realizing anything. I doubted the brass would view the fact that I'd managed to disable the bomb as adequate compensation. Havoc Squad going over to the Empire. My mind was still reeling. They were the best of our best. If they've lost faith or been turned, who's next?

 

I turned into the hangar bay and dropped the speeder off with the quartermaster officer there, a Twi'lek who gave me a bit of an odd look as I turned to leave. There's no why she could know. No way. I hoped so, at least. Last thing I needed was to be walking around the base with a giant bulls-eye on my back. Ord Mantell was enough of a hellhole without having my fellow troops giving me dirty looks for something I had known nothing about.

 

The command center was only a few feet away now. I stopped for a minute. Breathe. Relax. Try not to vomit. I got going again, past the glares of the men in the outer area, through a pair of rooms full of off-duty soldiers, and into the mission room where the entire nightmare had begun. It was nearly empty now, just Jorgan and an older man with a lot of medals and stripes. There was something funereal about the atmosphere, and the mood wasn't helped by Jorgan looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable or the lights being dimmed considerably.

 

"Sergeant Martell, I'm General Vander, Chief of Operations for the Republic here on Ord Mantell. Please, stand at ease and take a seat. We have some important matters to discuss."

 

I relaxed my posture, but didn't take the proffered chair. "I prefer to stand, sir. I assume Lieutenant Jorgan has briefed you on the situation?"

 

Both men frowned at that, but it seemed like they were doing so for different reasons. The general's discomfiture seemed to be pretty straightforward, but there was something....off...about Jorgan. Beneath his quiet-but-uneasy veneer, I could detect a dangerous undercurrent of rage. That alone wouldn't have surprised me, but - strangely - it seemed to be directed at General Vander rather than me or Havoc. I wondered if I had unknowingly wandered into another ambush.

 

Vander was considering his words carefully. "I've received the report on Havoc Squad's apparent defection to the Sith Empire, along with several other reports regarding your activity in the separatist base. Very impressive work, I must say."

 

I was a little confused. "Yes...sir. Thank you. But isn't Havoc's defection to the Empire the reason for this briefing?"

Jorgan coughed loudly, then looked a bit sheepish when the general gave him a sharp look.

 

"I understand that you were Havoc's newest recruit, and I want you to know I don't hold you personally responsible for any of this mess." I had to bite my tongue not to say something court-martiable to him. How karking generous.. I bit my tongue again, just to be safe. "However, I would like your opinion on that subject with regards to Sergeant Jorgan." Sergeant? The hell? I glanced over at the Cathar, but got only a murderous glare.

 

"Sir, it is my opinion that Lieu-Sergeant Jorgan performed admirably under the circumstances and in no way could have been aware or involved in the Havoc Squad plot. Without his assistance. I'd be a corpse out there, or strung up for torture by the separatists." Jorgan seemed to relax a bit, and I now understood why he'd been so upset. Someone upstairs with more stars than common sense demoted him, and they even thought he might have been involved. Blasted armchair generals.

 

The general turned to Jorgan. "I'm sorry about all this, Sergeant, you've been a fine soldier in your years here."

 

"Didn't stop you from demoting me anyway. Sir." I glanced over my shoulder and planned my exit.

 

Vander looked about ready to choke Jorgan, but instead turned his gaze back to me. "You also performed well beyond any reasonable expectation in disarming the ZR-57 bomb and neutralizing it as a threat. Simply outstanding work that needs to be recognized." I hoped that meant I might get a 2-for-1 coupon at the cantina, I needed it after today. "In light of your service, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Lieutenant."

 

I snapped off a salute, trying my best not to look at Jorgan.

 

"In addition, we have decided that you will be given command of the new Havoc squad. To rebuild it as the symbol of Republic strength in the face of Imperial aggression." I damn near fell over. "I realize you're still fairly new to the unit, but you've proven yourself in the field in multiple operations and in very difficult circumstances. Every officer who has served with you has had only the highest of praise for your conduct, particularly Sergeant Jorgan."

 

This time, it was Jorgan who was avoiding my gaze.

 

"One last item." Thank the Maker, I think I'm about to collapse. "You'll need to refill your squad with the best...with good, loyal soldiers. I can think of no better choice for your first member than Sergeant Jorgan, so I am assigning him to Havoc. You'll both be reporting to General Garza on Coruscant once we formalize everything." The general paused, then looked back at Jorgan. "I"m sorry, you deserve better for your years of service, but this was the best I can do."

 

The only response was a nod from Jorgan and a croaking noise from me; my throat had dried out sometime during the conversation without me realizing it. I summoned as much saliva as I could before trying again to respond.

 

"Yes, sir. I - we - won't let you down. You can count on us."

 

The general snapped off a salute that Jorgan and I both returned immediately. "You're both dismissed."

 

We made our way out of the command center, stumbling more than walking. When sunlight hit our eyes, I turned to him. "I need a drink. Well, more than one, really, but I want to get us started off on the right foot. Paw. Uh, you know what I mean."

 

Jorgan was giving me another of those looks of his that could out freeze Hoth, but then surprised me by barking out a laugh. "The General may have just ruined my career. Your Havoc friends might have just ruined my career too. But, you know what? Getting drunk with you sounds like a stupid enough idea to work." He bared his teeth in the scariest grin I'd ever seen in my entire life.

 

I slapped him on the back, quickly removing my hand when the glare returned. "To Havoc, once the proud vanguard of Republic Special Operations, now the home of a grumpy Cathar and his crazy commander with the big mouth. They'll have us on recruitment posters in no time."

 

The cantina was packed by the time we got there, but we scored ourselves a couple of decent seats in the corner. I hoped it was because of something positive, but some part of me was sure it was because Aric had encouraged the previous guests to perform a certain, anatomically impossible, act. Either way, the ale flowed freely and, for once, Jorgan wasn't the biggest *** on Ord Mantell. Admittedly, it helped that he was too busy drinking to say anything to me but, hey, small victories. Apparently, I just need to keep him liquored up.

 

That night, I returned to the barracks and sat down in front of my holoterminal, staring into the blank screen while I performed mental gymnastics to avoid making any kind of decision. They're not strangers, they're not enemies. They're your karking family. You can face a separatist's gun to your face but not them? You karking coward. I leaned over to the cooler to grab a beer, than caught myself.

 

Not tonight. Tonight, I needed to be brave. I activated the terminal and dialed in the account number. A woman's face appeared, lined with age but open and friendly all the same.

 

"Auntie Thalia? It's Ayrs, Valeria's son. I was wondering if you had some time." I winced at my own awkwardness.

 

Her smile was big enough that I forgot all about that, though. "Of course, Ayrs! I know things have been....difficult....but we're always here for you. Even when you're...busy."

 

Feeling a bit guilty, I reached behind my head and ran my hand up and down my neck a bit awkwardly, pretending to scratch an itch that wasn't there.

 

"I know, I'm sorry about being a lone ranger, but I'm gonna try to be better. Have a lot going on, and I thought it'd be nice to talk to my family."

Edited by Lesaberisa
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I'm really enjoying this *imports popcorn from Euphrosyne's thread* It's inspired me to go and pick up my own trooper again, I abandoned him at the beginning of Tatooine because I was so bored with him :o
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Thanks! It's always nice to know people are enjoying it. My apologies for not responding sooner, but I didn't want to needlessly bump my topic without adding to the story and I've been pretty busy the past couple of weeks.

 

I can definitely understand your feelings on the trooper storyline, but one thing I will always love about it is something people talked a bit about in the Short Fic thread - it's much more relatiable on so many levels, and I find it a lot of fun/more interesting to look at how someone without 'magic powers' might face the galaxy in front of them. Of course, it's someone with a tragic background seeking a new beginning, blahblah, but the thought is there ;)

 

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

 

Five hours out of Coruscant, and I couldn’t sleep at all. For once – thankfully – it wasn’t dreams of people and

places I’d lost keeping me up, though.

 

For the first time since I’d lost Rissa, I had something, some place to call my own, and I was deathly afraid that we’d arrive on Coruscant just in time for General Garza to pull the rug out from under me. I was no fool – I had only a little over a year of field experience, and there had to be dozens of SpecOps commanders itching to get their hands on a command like this, even if it meant dealing with the repercussions of Tavus and the others’ defections.

 

Well, that’s not entirely true. You are a fool. Just not about this.

 

I sighed, rolled over in my bunk, and stared blankly at the wall for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. Jorgan was fast asleep, his loud snoring adding yet another thing to the lengthy list of things that made me strongly consider strangling him in his sleep. Unfortunately, even my limited understanding of military regulations suggested that doing so would get me court-martialed, but a man could dream. Maybe I should ask Mori next time I talk to Drav

 

Across the cabin was a cooler full of military rations and water, nothing to satisfy the nagging sense that I needed to be doing something, anything, rather than wasting the hours away taking in the scenic grey-on-grey coloring of the walls of the shuttle cabin. I took a deep breath, then slid off the bed and headed for the door. The shuttle wasn’t very big, but maybe I’d track down a nice view if I looked hard enough. Or maybe I’ll find some alcohol, either will do.

 

I strolled down the empty corridor, carefully stepping over a mouse droid that beeped furiously at me before it scurried on, doing…whatever it is that mouse droids do on a military shuttle. I passed the empty mess hall, nodded at a crewman doing some maintenance on a sparking panel, and made my way up the ship’s spine, towards the cockpit, where anyone else still awake would be. I heard a strange noise coming from one of the other sleeping cabins as I passed it, but I decided discretion was the better part of valor and pushed on.

 

There was only a lone crewmember minding the fort, staring off into space while the autopilot managed the navigation through the congested traffic lanes to Coruscant. He noticed me before I managed to decide between coughing to get his attention or backing out of the room quietly.

 

“Sir, welcome to the bridge. Is everything ok?”

 

I nodded, moved up to stand next to him, and looked out the viewport. The stars were a kaleidoscope of colors, flashing against the black backdrop. I remembered the nights I’d spent back home on Ithaca staring up into the night, wondering if there were kids out on the worlds in those systems looking back at me. A stupid thought, but I never had any problem coming up with those.

 

“How long have you been a pilot?” He looked young, at least three years younger than me in appearance but even younger by his demeanor. He must have recognized the implication, because he stood up a little straighter and puffed out his chest. I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing.

 

“I’ve been serving on this ship for four months, Sir. Been in the service for ten.”

 

I put my hand out towards him. “Easy there, you’ll burst an artery if you don’t relax. I’m a soldier, just like you. Even if it weren’t some ungodly hour of the night, I don’t need any fancy salutes or formal language. And you don’t have to call me ‘sir’, my name’s Ayrs.”

 

He shook my hand and let out a loud breath. I noticed he was sweating a bit, too, and had to bite my tongue a little harder this time.

 

“Thank you si—uh, Ayrs.” He ran a hand through his unruly blond hair, then motioned towards the stars outside. “Amazing view, isn’t it? It’s why I signed up; to see something beyond the dirt and muck of my homeworld. To see the galaxy, and as much of everyone and everything in it I could.” He chuckled quietly. “Not that I get to see much piloting this old rust-bucket, but it’s enough to know the possibility is out there.” He coughed. “Oh, and I’m Stavros, but everyone calls me Stamos. I don’t know why.”

 

I didn’t either, but I smiled at the sentiment he’d expressed. It was like I’d discovered a time machine and gone back in time a few years ago to talk to my younger self.

 

“How’re you enjoying your tour so far?”

 

He glanced back at me before his gaze settled on the controls in front of us. I covered up a small yawn with my palm.

 

“Not entirely what I expected, to be honest, but I’m still new. I was hoping to see a little more action, be out on the front lines. You know, like in the holovids.”

 

I shook my head. “Life’s not like the holovids, though. Sometimes you’ve got to do the boring and mundane for a chance to do the heroic. Sometimes you might not get that chance, either.” Stars, I better get mine. “I’ll bet you get yours in time, though, military always needs hotshot pilots with strange nicknames.”

 

He laughed at that. “I certainly hope so, si-Ayrs. Sounds like you joined for the same reason, though.”

 

“Sort of.” I paused, not sure how much of myself I wanted to reveal to him. “Mom’s family has served in the military for generations, so there’s that too. Wanted to be like my mom and pop and do something good for the galaxy while I was still around. Nothing too surprising, I guess, but I still hope I can do some of that. Mom and Pop left big shoes to fill.”

 

I cut myself off to cover another yawn, and to keep myself from saying any more.

 

“Makes sense to me. I figure that there's always a chance of doing something more, at least until I'm turning old and grey and I'm still flying this thing. Then I might need to put in for a transfer."

 

I chuckled at that, sympathizing with his plight. "Well, the one positive thing about being in Havoc Squad is that things are never boring. There's always someone shooting at you, throwing regulations in your face, trying to cut you in half with a lightsaber. Adventures for the average soldier, Mundane events for the likes of me."

 

His eyes lit up a bit at the mention of Havoc Squad. "You know, if Havoc Squad ever needs a pilot…”

 

I laughed. “I’ll keep you in mind, we’ll have to see how long it takes them to replace me with someone who knows what they’re doing, though.” I slapped him on the back, and turned back towards the rest of the ship. “I’d better get what sleep I can, though. Need to be fresh for General Garza. You have a good night, and if you ever need something, drop me a line. I'll do what I can to help. Or pretend to, at least."

 

He laughed, then turned back to the controls.

 

Since I was feeling particularly good, for once, I stopped by the communications room on my way back. I was too tired to make any calls, so I left one message for Drav to let him know I’d been transferred to Coruscant, and a second to Rissa to say hello. I stood at the terminal for a few minutes, then sent another to Aunt Thalia as well, figured she deserved at least that for putting up with me for so long. I was going to go further down my list of academy friends when another yawn convinced me I’d be better off waiting until I wasn’t in danger of incoherently revealing embarrassing secrets about myself.

 

Jorgan was still out like a light by the time I got back, and still snoring loudly enough to alert the people on Coruscant’s surface we were in the system. I slid onto my bunk and covered myself with the hopelessly inadequate regulation blanket. Then, I fell asleep.

 

I had the most pleasant sleep I’d had for over five years. I didn’t dream of my family; didn’t hear their voices or see their faces in front of me. I didn’t dream of my friends, or of the good times we’d had together I didn’t even dream of home, of the places and things I had loved and now were lost to me. I dreamed of something better, something brighter, shining before me like the stars had back in the cockpit.

 

I dreamed of a future.

 

The ship-wide comm woke me four hours later to alert us that our authorization to land had been granted, and we needed to get everything ready for our meeting with Garza. Jorgan and I got dressed in silence. I finished first, and went to the cargo bay to ensure our gear was delivered to the barracks right away. When I ducked back into our cabin, he was waiting for me, looking uncomfortable as he shifted from one foot to the other.

 

“Sir, permission to speak freely?”

 

I was sorely tempted to say ‘no’ just to see what his reaction would be. Simmer down, now. I nodded, not trusting myself or my self-control.

 

“I want you to know that, despite my earlier comments, I respect your record as a soldier. Command may have screwed me with the demotion, but I’ll gladly take down as many Imperials as I can with you.”

 

Feeling a bit impish, I fluttered my eyes at him, and softened my voice. “Why Aric, you know just want I want to hear.”

 

I couldn’t quite decide what the look he gave me was. To my untrained eye, it looks like some sort of mix between disgust, amusement and the kind of fear people show in the holovids when they realized they’re good and truly karked. I smirked, and pushed past him to the door, making my way to the exit.

 

Jorgan had a strange look on his face as we exited the transport. “I didn’t want to bring this off when we were discussing serious matters, but this briefing might leave us both dead, judging by Gara’s reputation” His voice trailed off for a moment. “Just to let you know, you snore like a rancor.”

 

Hopefully Garza’s briefing will be less painful than this.

 

The trip to the general’s office in the Senate building was a surprisingly long and tiring one, mostly because no one had thought things through enough to have a direct transit system between the spaceport and senate, apparently. Jorgan and I were huffing and puffing a bit when we finally entered the military wing of the building, but we managed to make it to her office in one piece. Mostly. Thank the Maker for all that training.

 

General Elin Garza was waiting for us, hands folded behind her, a frown firmly planted on her face. Things are already looking up. Her already severe features were hardly softened by either that or the perturbed expression on her face. I hoped the dismay came from something on one of the many datapads on her desk and not from something we’d done. Well, that I’d done, I could live with Jorgan getting in some more trouble.

 

We exchanged salutes, then she launched right into things.

 

“Lieutenant, Sergeant, welcome to Coruscant. I’m glad to see Havoc Squad’s reconstruction in such capable hands, and I have full confidence in both of you. The situation is critical; multiple Special Forces groups and squads have apparently joined Tavus in defecting, and we must move quickly before this information is discovered.”

 

I scratched the back of my neck. “Sir, if I may?” She nodded. “Shouldn’t we be coordinating our response with SIS or other agencies?” I stopped talking as an expression of complete and utter disbelief spread across her face.

 

“Under no circumstances is information on these defections to be shared, lieutenant. Surely you can see the damage that would be done, both militarily and politically.” Silently, I wondered how that could outweigh the damage the defectors would do if they struck against us first, while we were unprepared, but I knew better than to speak up. “In any case, your work will begin here, investigating and eliminating several supply networks that have followed Tavus into the Imperial camp."

 

I nodded. "I won't let you down, sir." I sensed Jorgan nodding in approval behind me.

 

"Several of my sources report that one of Tavus' associates is on Coruscant as we speak, coordinating efforts with these traitors. This must be stopped. You will report to Corporal Garrum in the Old Market District for mission-specific details. I will be monitoring your progress through your armor cam, and determining how best to move forwards afterwards." That sounded a bit ominous. "Dismissed.”

 

We exchanged salutes again. Jorgan and I turned on our heels and marched out of the building; we’d have to figure out where our gear was, then get a move on things if we were going to make that briefing in time..

 

“Not one for small talk,” he put forth. “I like that.”

Edited by Lesaberisa
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Coruscant was supposed to be the shining beacon of civilization for the rest of the galaxy, but my experience so far had demonstrated it to be anything but. The Republic having security problems and breakdowns on a planet like Ord Mantell, that was one thing, but Coruscant was another matter entirely. Jorgan and I had been unpleasantly surprised by the corruption and crime running rampant in so many of the lower areas of the city that we had been traveling through during our strikes against Tavus’ underworld infrastructure on the planet.

 

Easy there, you’re a soldier, not a social worker.

 

The last mission had only further deepened the hole I was in with Garza; black market lab experimenting on civilians. By the time we’d got there, the doctors had been experimenting on them, leaving ten of them with various cybernetic implants. Then, as if he hadn’t been loathsome enough as is, he broadcast that the newly-created cyborgs were programmed to carry out terrorist activities if they were allowed to live. Garza had insisted we kill them, remove any chance of things going sour, and even Jorgan had grudgingly agreed, saying we couldn’t accept that level of risk. Maybe they couldn’t, but I could. Kark, was I supposed to have shot that twelve year old? Jorgan, at least, had heard me out and not commented much. Garza….

 

I’d felt much better about myself letting them be handed over for monitoring by Republic Security, but Garza’s very precise verbal takedown afterwards had left me wondering if I was on a shorter leash as Havoc commander than I thought. I appreciated the fact that – in her position – eliminating both real and potential threats was of paramount importance, but I didn’t accept that that included killing people like the ones in that lab; they weren’t war criminals, not traitors or Imperial agents. Just regular people caught up In some horrible stuff out of sheer bad timing, and even wose luck. Like my family.

 

Today, Jorgan and I were off to visit the scenic Black Sun sector, to rendezvous with a Sergeant Jaxo about some chemical and biological weapons the criminals were apparently stockpiling before turning them over to the Havoc traitors. The briefing had been even more curt than the first one, Garza still smarting from my decision at the cybernetics lab, and left us both with serious questions. How had Tavus managed to organize and maintain these supply networks? More importantly, how much pull did the Black Sun have to have an entire sector of the city named after it?

 

Jorgan interrupted my stream of thought. “You think Garza’s testing us and our loyalties on these missions? Running after organized crime on Coruscant seems to be a waste of our singular talents.”

 

I shrugged. “If she didn’t trust us, she wouldn’t have left us on the squad roster, there are plenty of top-notch soldiers out there that’d be itching for the opportunity to be a part of Havoc. Garza probably just wants us to work through a few lower-level ops first, you learn how I operate and vice versa, so we get our timing in the field down too. Besides, judging from everything we’ve seen, the planet’s a mess and could use all the help it can get.”

 

He grunted in agreement as we slipped passed another Black Sun patrol and headed towards Jaxo’s meeting place. The gangsters took no note of a pair of men wearing nondescript armor, and moved on. “Kind of worrisome they’ve left the capital end up like this, don’t you think, sir?”

 

“No kidding. Politicians lining their pockets, people taking advantage of each other for personal gain. No wonder there’s so many people demoralized about how things are going. It’s been years since the war ended but it probably feels like the Republic’s still losing battles out there. I thought Ord Mantell was bad, but seeing Coruscant like this?”

 

My voice trailed off and he took a moment to mull that over before changing subjectss. “You heard of this Sergeant Jaxo before? I don’t want any surprises like we got with Tavus if she isn’t on the level.”

 

I shrugged again. “Never heard of her, but I haven’t been around all that long myself. Hopefully she’s easier to talk to than Garza.” Jorgan barked a laugh as we rounded a corner and entered a residential district. I pulled up the display in my armor and angled us towards Jaxo’s building. “With our luck, though, she’ll be Garza lite.” We reached the door, and I buzzed in the access code Garza’s aide had given us. “Old, mean, soul-consuming…”

 

The door opened, and we stepped in. An attractive brunette, nice figure, was standing inside with an amused expression on her face that reminded me a lot of Rissa. “Sounds like a real monster, not anyone I know is it?”

Jorgan and I removed our helmets; no sense in taking in the filtered air when we could have the real thing instead. He responded before I could, jerking his thumb at me, “Just talking about Martell’s mother, that’s it.” I flinched, but he had no way to know how much the barb stung for the wrong reasons.

 

She turned to me, flashing a smile and practically purred, “I had no idea the new Havoc commander was so handsome, guess I’m a lucky girl.”

 

I nodded my head in Jorgan’s direction, hoping she wouldn’t notice the flush slowly taking over my face. “Jorgan? I guess he’s alright if you don’t mind the shedding. He’s not the commander of Havoc Squad, though, I am.” The sound of Jorgan’s jaw clenching and then unclenching was what made life worth living. Jaxo laughed lightly at the comment, then winked at me.

 

“Well, boys, you’ve got an interesting mission ahead of you. I’ve been holed up in here for weeks now, tracking incoming and outgoing shipments coming out of the Black Sun-controlled spaceport and docks in the area. Turns out they’ve got a big shipment of some real nasty stuff heading out in a few days and General Garza wants us to take it out.”

 

Made sense to me.

 

“What’s the catch, Sergeant? Not that I don’t enjoy your company, but I doubt Garza would have sent Jorgan and me down here to take on some street thugs.”

 

Her smile slowly morphed into a frown as she brushed a few strands of hair out of her eyes. “Normally, I’d agree, but these aren’t normal street thugs. They took out three full squads of Republic Security when the local commanders tried to make a push. General Garza probably wants to send a message along with getting the weapons neutralized. You two are perfect for the job, from what I hear. Smooth operators, know how to handle yourselves…” her voice trailed off for a moment, then returned as she locked her eyes – sparkling with amusement – on mine, “…delicate touch. Skilled in more ways than one, from what I can see.”

 

My armor was suddenly feeling distinctly overheated and uncomfortable. I heard Jorgan cough. At least, I thought it was a cough; if he was stifling a laugh I’d probably have to kill him.

 

“Well, uh, we better get over to the Black Sun headquarters and neutralize the weapons. The general told us to return the stuff here once it was secured.” I casually slipped my helmet back on, a few minutes too late for my ego’s sake.

 

“Looking forward to seeing you then, Lieutenant.” I could have sworn she winked at me, but I was already turning away and couldn’t be sure. The door had barely closed behind us when I saw Jorgan fidgeting. “What?”

His smirk was so powerful I could see it through his helmet. “You seem to be making quite an impression on the local troops. I guess Havoc Squad is useful for morale in more ways than one.”

 

I stopped so quickly that he almost ran into me. He sidestepped to the right, avoiding a collision between the two of us, but running face first into a flashing advertisement for a travel company. This time, I was the one who had to hide their amusement.

 

“Shut up, Jorgan.” His smirk died.

 

Fortunately, the rest of the mission was far less unpleasant than the Cathar’s company, even with the accidental dismemberment of one gang member that made a dash through a closing door at the exact wrong moment and the endless packs of three to five Black Sun members that seemed to patrol the area leading up to their headquarters and even inside it. The entire defense perimeter felt like it’d been set up to be simultaneously completely inefficient but also as aggravating as possible to an attacking force.

 

Resistance inside the building was almost as pathetic, apart from a pair of higher ranking Black Sun officers in upgraded armor. The rest of the de facto garrison seemed unprepared for even a pair of SpecOps troopers, as they seemed to avoid ever taking cover, stood next to environmental hazards that could be used against them, and had the aim of a Force-blind Miraluka. The canisters of biological weapons were lined up against a wall, exactly where Jaxo’s intel had said it would be. Amateurs. I shook my head, and wondered both how the Black Sun had managed to make it so far despite such incompetence, and also how Republic Security could fail to deal with them.

 

Still, the trip back to Jaxo’s safe house was a lot more pleasant than the trip from it had been. The Black Sun, apparently learning its lesson, had largely cleared out of the immediate area, which left us with smooth sailing for the majority of the trip. Well, that and you stuck Jorgan with the majority of the biological agents, so he’s weighed down. Jorgan’s head was covered in sweat when he removed his helmet, and the sight of my victorious smirk did little to improve his condition. To her credit, Jaxo seemed appreciative of our work.

 

“I knew I could rely on you.” She ran a hand over some of the canisters. “Without these weapons, Commander Tavus will have some pretty unhappy Imperial handlers.” Her smile turned a little vicious. “Would be a real shame if it had consequences for him or his people.”

 

Jorgan and I laughed at that – wishful thinking, maybe, but pleasant enough to hope for.

 

“Anything else we can do for you, Sergeant? Otherwise, we better be on our way to the debriefing. We also don’t want to blow your cover, I’m sure you attract enough attention as it is.” I heard Jorgan mutter ‘Oh brother’ under his breath as he headed for the door.

 

Jaxo took the opportunity to move forward and get close enough to cause that tingling sensation I always felt when there was trouble afoot. My brain was trying to process that troubling mix of opportunity and potential disaster, and I knew that I'd find some way to screw this up, regardless of what I said or did. Fortunately, she spoke before I could; there was a twinkle in her eye, and her tone was suggestive and hopeful at the same time. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime, Lieutenant. With or without the uniform.”

 

I swallowed something unpleasant and gave a grin as my face turned a bright shade of red, which seemed to amuse her. “I’ll see what I can do, Sergeant.” Then I beat a hasty retreat, before I did or said anything I’d regret later.

 

Jorgan was waiting outside the door, leaning against the wall to the door’s left and arms crossed in front of him. He looked surprised to see me.

 

“Done already, sir? I guess humans might be different, but I figured the debriefing might take longer.” He was enjoying himself way too much, and not even a sharp look could wipe the predatory grin off his face. “Not that I’m judging, she obviously preferred me.”

 

For the second time today, I halted my steps and nearly caused him to crash into me; this time he managed to avoid any collateral damage, though.

 

“Don’t make me kill you, Jorgan. It’d look bad on my record and you might stain my armor. Besides, I think Garza’s more your type.” I swept my hands over the front of my armor in an exaggerated motion, and kept moving. “I’ll see you back at the barracks, though, I’ve got some family I need to see.”

 

I walked past them all, ignoring the looks of confusion, curiosity and –occasionally – derision as I clomped through the building in my off-duty fatigues. I had never been to Coruscant before, never thought I’d ever make it here, but ever since I’d been old enough to want to be a soldier, Mom had never failed to remind me of where I came from before Ithaca, no matter how strained relations were with the rest of the Martells now.

 

Memorial Hall was located in a large circular room, the ceiling a simple design; the Republic crest. Kuat was sometimes derided for what others saw as insufficient patriotism, but its sons and daughters died for the Republic just as well as any other world’s did. Circling much of the walls was a display in memory of those Kuati that had died in the service; names, dates, memories. The room was deathly silent; even the small children seemed to know it was not a place for antics.

 

In the center of the room, as would be expected from a world with proud aristocratic traditions, were displays for major families. Castillo, Hawthorne, Whytecliffe, Manderly….Martell. I leaned in and took a pair of headphones that were attached to the display, then activated the narration.

 

The Martell family has long been one of the most prominent members of the Kuati banking community, dating back centuries. Their contribution to our world’s financial and economic success has made them role models and heroes for Kuati of all backgrounds and walks of life. However, it is important to also recognize their immense sacrifices made in the service of their world and the Republic. A Martell has fought, and in some cases died, in every conflict for the past three centuries, and their tradition started before they even rose to prominence in the private sector.

 

To the enemies of their world and the Republic, the Martell words ring true. Unbowed, unbent, unbroken.

 

The display shut itself off. I shouldn’t have been surprised the creators would focus on the other side of the family first, but the display itself was a nice gesture and it was hardly something to get too worked up about. I sifted through the names and faces. Constantine, Yasmin, Achilles, Nymeria, Hippolyta, Belisarius. I found my grandmother, Allyria, who had not been the first to break away from the rest of the Martells, but had been the one that took us to Ithaca. And then, staring at me with a bright smile I hadn’t seen from her after we lost Pop, was Mom.

 

Valeria Martell. Served in Republic Special Operations. Received multiple commendations, including three Service Stars.

 

Fourteen words to sum up a life, but Mom had been more than decorations and terse descriptions. She was hunting trips into the country, camping trips in the mountains, stories about the people even crazier than I was she’d met along the way. Hugs when we fell, stern looks when I had done something wrong. Most of all, her unconditional love and the security we felt knowing we had a best friend for life. She was more than some trite description, I just wish I had some way to express it. I guess the warm feelings I have will have to do. Even now. Even after everything that's happened..

 

A small smile creased my lips, and for a moment I was back home. Ariel was coming over for the dinner Pop had going on the stove, a meal Mom had to keep watching over because he was too busy making Ver and Ally collapse into giggling fits with his silly voices and Force tricks. Dio was sitting at the table, oblivious to the chaos arond him while he studied thermodynamics, or whatever.

 

Something jabbed at my arm.

 

One of the docents had managed to sneak up on me, prodding my shoulder with his datapad in his rush to interrogate me. Scrawny guy, about a foot shorter than me, looks like a weasel too.

 

“Excuse me, sir, could I interest you in a commemorative book on the Martell family? It contains all sorts fascinating information on various important members.”

 

I struggled to contain my laugh. “No thanks. I know enough about my own family without some overpriced souvenir.”

 

His eyes went as big as saucers. “Sir, you’re a Martell? I must arrange a meeting with the Senator. He will be most thrilled to meet a Martell currently serving in the military. A true Kuati hero.”

 

I shook my head vigorously. “No. I don’t need or want to meet any politician. And I’m not Kuati.”

 

Idiot couldn’t take a hint.

 

“But…but you’re a Martell, and they’re all Kuati. You’re one of us.”

 

I turned on him, feeling a cold fury that came from nowhere. “No, I am not one of you. I am the descendant of Martells, but I am a son of Ithaca. I was born there, I learned to love and live there, the best part of me died there too. Now, get out of my way.” He recoiled from my hand and practically threw himself across the room to get out of my path.

 

The good feelings I had been feeling were long since forgotten. I pushed my way past him and made my way back towards the exit. Worst part is, dealing with Garza’s even more unpleasant.

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Notes:

Bit of a shorter piece, but setting some stuff up and writing other things. I'm also working on a Martell family tree which can be found here

 

 

The Dealer's Den Cantina wasn't as busy as the other troops in the barracks had led me to believe it would be, which was fine by me. Never was a fan of crowds, anyway.

 

General Garza had suggested Jorgan and I take the night off to engage in "team-building exercises"; I certainly saw the benefit of developing a rapport with him, but I also wouldn't have put socializing with Aric Jorgan high on my to-do list. Still, the Dealer's Den had the best supply of alcohol this side of Corellia, and if I had to be spending time with someone in my chain of command, better Jorgan than Garza.

 

Jorgan was waiting for me as I slid onto the bench across from him. He glanced over at me, gave a small nod, then waved the server droid over before I could get a word in. Guess he was listening when I said I could order a drink at any cantina without needing a menu He ordered some kind of strange-sounding drink that I'd never heard of before, I stuck with a lomin ale straight from a local brewery that one of the other squad commanders had recommended.

 

I decided to take the first step. "So where were you before they assigned you to Havoc?" Clever. Always going for the insightful over the obvious, Ayrs.

 

His eyes narrowed, as if trying to parse the question for hidden implications or insults. When he realized there were none, his shoulders dropped slightly and his expression softened noticeably. "I served for a few years in the Deadeyes, elite sniper unit. Started out as a regular grunt, worked my way up to XO, then took over the unit. I transferred to Ord Mantell to get some hands-on command experience. You saw how that turned out." He grimaced and fell silent before realizing that I might take it wrong. "How about you? Sir?"

 

This time, I was the one that grimaced. "Just Ayrs, or Martell if you prefer. We're off duty, and all the sirs and salutes don't matter. I'm here to make sure what happened to my family and homeworld don't happen anywhere else. I'm here to fight the Imperials and Sith and Black Sun and whoever threatens that sort of thing" I paused as the waiter reappeared with our drinks. "Right now, though, I'm here to enjoy some beer."

 

He took a sip of his drink. Apparently, he had chosen poorly, because he made a face and slid the glass away from him. "I have to admit, you're not as green as I thought you were. You did well on Ord Mantell." It sounded like praising me was akin to pulling his own teeth, and that it took supreme effort to get the words out. I chuckled at that.

 

"I appreciate it, you're a good soldier. What they did to you was wrong, but when you'll prove that to them by the time we finish taking down Tavus and the rest of his traitors"

 

He raised his glass in a silent toast, which I mirrored.

 

"So, what do you do in your spare time Jor-, err Aric. Jorgan. Sergeant." I coughed and found an interesting speck of dust on the table to stare at.

 

"Spare time? There isn't any for me. Being in Spec Ops means I need to ensure everything is prepared and ready to go for a mission at all times. Not just my own gear, the squad's too. You can never be too prepared." He frowned slightly. "Too easy to get distracted and miss something if you focus too much on something other than your job."

 

I shrugged. "Fair enough. You'll be expected to make cantina runs with me anyway, though. No ducking all your responsibilities."

 

"I did hear that you caused a real ruckus at the Kuati embassy the other day, si-err. Not very becoming of an upstanding future poster boy for Special Operations." His smug grin was infuriating. Or maybe it was my empty glass that was, I wasn't really sure. I waved his comment away.

 

"Nothing major, I just had a polite disagreement with one of the embassy staff over whether I could or should be used in some of their political games. I pointed out that I was neither a citizen of Kuat nor someone who considered themselves Kuati, and that I didn't appreciate their attempts to include me in their PR."

 

Jorgan snorted. "I heard there was more to it than that. Profane language, hair pulling, comparing the staff member's mother to a Hutt?" He seemed entirely too pleased with himself.

 

I stared at my empty glass a little harder, then looked up at him, jabbing a finger violently at his face. "There was no mention of any Hutts, let's get the story right. I don't remember that much profane language, either."

 

He smirked, but remained silent.

 

"Anyway, the idiot was pushing me too far about being a "true Kuati", that sort of nonsense. Go far enough back and I'm related to some financial bigwigs back on Kuat, so I'm guessing the guy thought he could score some points by putting me in a holo or something. I let him know how I felt, filled him in on some facts he was ignoring, nothing major."

 

He looked a bit confused. "You're not from Kuat, but you mentioned a home world...," his voice trailed off into an uncomfortable silence.

 

I'd never found it very easy to talk to people about home, my family, my past. What they had meant. What losing it all had done to me. The doctor at the academy, sure, I had to feed him stuff to make sure I didn't get a medical discharge. Bellis' widow on Ord Mantell, well...she'd been a kindred spirit. It's hard to truly appreciate the magnitude of that kind of loss unless you have some experience of your own. I wasn't sure Aric Jorgan had that experience and - even if he did - I didn't know if he was the kind of person I wanted to talk about it with. He was a squad member, yes, but obviously one more interested in the professional side of things than anything else. Probably best to keep the sob story to myself.

 

"Nothing, it's gone. Over. Just something I've learned to deal with and use as motivation."

 

He eyed me suspiciously, and a hush fell over the table. The silence extended uncomfortably until a loud crash from elsewhere in the bar saved us both from our own social ineptness.

 

I turned my head just in time to see another glass mug crash against the floor by the bar. One of the bartenders was running for the bouncer at the door, while the other seemed petrified in fear. Two Rodians and a Trandoshan were surrounding a Mon Calamari, shoving him around while the other patrons looked more interested in finding cover than helping him. The Calamari waved his hand towards the Trandoshan, like he was a Jedi or something, but the thug just laughed.

 

I jerked my thumb towards the bar. "Think we should help that upstanding citizen out? It appears as if he has been accosted by unsavory characters."

 

He shifted his body to get a better look, then glanced back over to me. "I think you're right, it's our duty to defend those that serve the Republic."

 

I gave a small, vicious, grin. "We'll get written up for this. Might knock you back down to Specialist Jorgan."

 

Jorgan laughed at that, a full throaty laugh unlike the others I'd heard from him before. "Be worth it to see these guys put in their place." He paused, then favored me with a glance. "And see you bumped down to Sergeant."

 

I favored him with a half-smile, and pushed myself up from the table; he followed suit and trailed behind me as we made our way over to the fracas. The Trandoshan and Rodians never heard us approach, never realized they had missed their chance to get away. Even as I tapped the rear-most Rodian on the shoulder and the Mon Calamari beat a hasty retreat, the idiots didn't know what they'd gotten themselves into.

 

The Rodian made a drunken, half-hearted shoving motion, but failed to budge me even an inch. "What'ya want, you idiot? He owed us credits." His breath smelled terrible, even worse than Jorgan's. "Now he's run off. Maybe you and your friend pay instead." He bared his teeth, trying to be intimidating.

 

"Maybe you and your friends should take a hike. Before things get unpleasant."

 

He just laughed.

 

I glanced behind me to see Jorgan's hands balled into fists. He nodded slightly.

 

" Let's get to work, Aric."

 

My fist caught the Rodian flush in the face.

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Note:

Another shorter piece, but it's set-up for the next post and combining the two would have been over-long and diminished the impact of the second half, which is more critical for his overarching story

 

 

"I trust you two enjoyed your time in the cantina? And your encounter with the military police? No doubt, you will have some impressive reason for why two members of my most elite squad were engaged in an altercation with random street thugs?"

 

I focused intently at an interesting speck of dust I found on the ground. Jorgan was staring into space behind Garza's head, continuing his welcome trend of not opening his mouth. She didn't seem particularly thrilled with either of us, but damned if I was going to give her more ammunition by giving the wrong response. That you did enjoy it. Not that that mattered to her. Right now, she reminded me a lot of how Mom was when I'd done something wrong.

 

"Lieutenant? As the ranking officer, surely you have something of value to add to this one-sided conversation?"

 

My face flushed slightly and felt sweat forming in the hair on the back of my neck.

 

"Uh, no sir. We didn't enjoy it, we acted to defend a civilian from those thugs. Nothing more, nothing less. Sir."

 

Her frown deepened. "Yes, the civilian in question did give an account that corroborated your story. Unfortunately, this witness - a Mr. Tuno - has since disappeared from Coruscanti custody. I am sure they will redouble their efforts to secure him again, but in the mean time I was forced to explain your actions to several groups of local authorities, none of whom were convinced the brawl was a necessary consequence of the altercation."

 

"Is there a question there, sir?"

 

Her face scrunched up into an inscrutable expression, although her disapproval was obvious. "Never mind that, I will keep you posted if I require any further input on the situation. Though I do trust it won't be repeated in the future." Jorgan and I both nodded quickly. "Excellent. In that case, I have a new assignment for you. A certain group of former military members known as the Justicars have seized control of a substantial sector of Corellia and reports suggest that Tavus is funneling supplies and support through this territory. You'll be coordinating with the local SIS Agent-in-Charge."

 

Huh, SIS. That's new.

 

"Standard coordination protocols with the SIS contact, sir?"

 

She shook her head so violently at that, that for a moment I was concerned her head would spin off her neck.

 

"Absolutely not. You will cooperate with the SIS as best as possible, but under no circumstances are you to reveal anything regarding the defection of Havoc Squad specifically or the scope of Special Operations defections in general."

 

I scratched the back of my neck. "Sir, won't the SIS contact notice that I'm not Tavus? I mean, assuming they aren't as incompetent as some of the other authorities on Coruscant are."

 

"Do the best you can, label it a training exercise for new members for example. I trust you will be able to keep the information from the SIS; if news spreads, we will have bigger issues to deal with than supply chains - the Senate and military hierarchy will come down on us."

 

I didn't quite like the implications of what Garza was telling us, but there wasn't a whole lot I could do. I didn't know much beyond the basic outline of what was going on, so there wasn't a whole lot to tell. Still, if Tavus' network was so widespread, someone was bound to notice something was up, and I didn't want friends and allies harmed or killed because of Garza's political sensibilities. Guess we'll see how things go.

 

Jorgan was silent the entire trip to the small strip of the Justicar territory still under the control of the Republic, whether it was because he just didn't feel like talking to me or was upset about the dressing down we'd gotten, I wasn't quite sure. Either way, there wasn't much to be done about it now, we couldn't afford the distraction anyway. He's probably just mad we had to swap our nifty Havoc Squad armor for more ubiquitous light armor that wouldn't stand out to the Justicars, anyway. I smiled, then killed the expression when I saw Jorgan watching me warily.

 

The trip to the SIS safe house was uneventful, helped by a friendly Justicar at the checkpoint that waved us through. One of ours? Or just lazy? Not sure it matters, I guess, just accept the favors when they come. The apartment was one of hundreds, and even came with the prerequisite layer of dust and smell of spoiled milk. Our contact made his entrance into the room a moment before we could see his entire face, a thick brown beard announcing his presence but unable to hide the fact it was...

 

"Dravis! You karking idiot, what are you doing here?" I ignored about fifty pages of protocols and rules and enveloped him in a huge hug. "I figured you were doing something underhanded with the way you travel the galaxy, but never figured the SIS was so desperate they'd take the likes of you. How'd you get away with growing that beard, though? Why hasn't Mori killed you for it?"

 

He laughed at that, unconsciously stroking his beard as he did so. "Well, you know me, always pushing my limits. Even with the old ball and chain." he gave me a wink, even as I struggled to remember the last time he'd tempted divine retribution by calling Mori that. "Besides, helping a bunch of hotshot SpecOps troops take down some washed up veterans prancing about pretending to be anything but thugs seems like more fun than helping the Republic handle the criminal underworld."

 

I grinned at that despite my best efforts to retain what little professionalism I could still claim. "You always did have a habit for getting into trouble, never knew you to be one to keep your nose clean."

 

He laughed loudly at that. "I seem to remember you participating in a rather notorious incident back on Corulag." His eyes moved between mine and Jorgan's, amusement lighting them up a bit. "And, from what I hear, you boys have been enjoying your shore leave more than most."

 

I heard Jorgan loudly clearing his throat.

 

"How rude of me. Jorgan, meet Dravis Tallin, late of the Corulag Military Academy and currently the most wanted man in SIS." Jorgan grunted a greeting while eying both of us. "Drav, this is Aric Jorgan. He's sort of half-mascot, half-resident grump." Drav smiled faintly and shook Jorgan's hand, shooting me a glance that suggested he wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that. Only the second or third time Drav's been left speechless in his entire life, I bet.

 

"Anyway, Ayrs, I know General Garza sent you boys down here to investigate the Justicars. Rumor has it that they're tied to some kind of Imperial Intelligence operation." He paused, as if carefully preparing his next sentence. "Rumor also has it that there are Republic traitors involved." He raised an eyebrow and looked at me, a bit more cautiously than usual.

 

"That'd be news to me, Drav." I wasn't much of a liar, let alone being any good at it while in the company of a professional spy who also happened to be my best friend.

 

He snorted and moved over to a console. "Relax, Ayrs, I already know about your traitor."

 

My heart skipped a beat. How would he know about Tavus already?

 

"That's right, chum, we knew it even before Garza did. No need to play any more games, we know about Kardan."Jek Kardan? My stomach did a roll to the side as I processed that information. SIS had incomplete info, which would please Garza, but one of Havoc's founders had betrayed us as well? I struggled to focus as Drav kept going. "Here's the intel we've got on the Justicar HQ. You get in there, rendezvous back here with me, and we'll set up the op as needed. We'll nail Kardan, we'll nail his Imperial contact, and then we'll get ourselves a drink."

 

The best I could do was offer a weak smile.

Edited by Lesaberisa
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I had to give the Justicars credit for one thing – as befit an organization made up primarily of veterans, they had a much better idea of how to run security than the Black Sun thugs did. Stricter control of access to key areas, varied patrol patterns that required much careful planning to avoid, even some heavier emplacements around the power generators before we got within sight of their headquarters. At least a couple of heavy APCs, too, which wasn’t something Garza had noted in her briefing notes.

 

Jorgan let out a sharp whistle at the sight of those. “Building themselves quite an arsenal here. Makes you wonder what they needed it for. Can’t imagine you need that kind of firepower for any of the local criminal gangs.”

 

We stopped in unison as a patrol went by. “Might need it if you were facing Republic troops, though.” I said quietly. We exchanged a look that said more than any words.

 

Another five minutes - and two unconscious guards we couldn't avoid – later, and we found ourselves staring across Valor Boulevard at the hive of activity that was the Justicar headquarters. Drav had set us up with cover identities, carefully crafted to shield us from anything but the closest scrutiny. I’d feel safer with a bigger blaster, though. Or a couple of SpecOps divisions, maybe. Jorgan seemed similarly uneasy, eyes flicking around the entry hall in one long sweep.

 

The cover identities got us through the outer checkpoints with ease, suggesting the Justicars might not be that much more capable than the Black Sun, at least not as much as I had thought. That, or Drav was better at organizing this sort of thing than I had thought. Not that I’ll ever admit that to him, if there were ever someone born with too much confidence… The security console we had to access for the information on Kardan’s hideout was behind more significant defenses than some bored Justicars, though. That’s where our friends in the SIS would come in handy – not for any kind of heavy operation, though. We didn’t need any heavy armor or large force on the ground for the kind of distraction we needed. All we needed was….

 

The building shook as the explosions from the bombs SIS had carefully planted rocked the area. There wasn’t much damage to the building itself, from what I could tell, but the Justicars inside were definitely rattled, even panicked. One damn near ran Jorgan over as he ran for the entrance, following the crowd of his compatriots in their mad rush to get a better view of what was going on outside. That gave us about ten minutes to get this done, get out and make it back to the safe house. Drav had offered to have his people hit the Justicars to give us a bigger window, but the SIS wasn’t built for a straight up fight. And if we needed that help, it’d mean the whole mission was karked anyway.

 

Grabbing the intel off the Justicar computer proved a lot easier than we anticipated, but I guess these were military wash-outs for a reason; couldn’t hack it in the real military, so they dressed themselves up in their fancy uniforms and paraded around in their little kingdom on Coruscant. Couldn’t fight a real enemy with a blaster that might fire back, so they threw their weight around against a bunch of scared civilians. These people weren’t the proud veterans they wanted to present themselves as; they were cowards who were as much enemies of the Republic as the Imperials were.

 

As if I needed more proof, their system was full of information that would ruin them if – when – it went public. Ties with the spice trade, the Black Sun, and other underworld organizations that were parasites feasting on the less fortunate in the Republic. Large financial streams coming from the Hutts. And, most interestingly to me – and to Garza, no doubt – an active coordination with an Imperial Intelligence agent on Coruscant itself as well as Jek Kardan and the Havoc traitors. File after file of damning evidence, but my datapad only had room for a select amount, and Garza’s patience would handle even less. Hopefully Drav would get some use out of it.

 

The hardest part about the trip back to the SIS was resisting the temptation to burn the entire place down before we left. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the ordinance and, even with the SIS distraction still working wonders on the Justicars. Still, I couldn’t help but puff my chest out with a bit of pride as we strode back into the safe house and handed the data over to Drav and his people. An enjoyable two hour relaxation break later, and we were in business.

 

“Their encryption was weak, very weak. If it weren’t the Justicars, I might actually question whether the information was just a plant, but…,” Drav’s voice trailed off for a moment, then came back even stronger. “Most of it is pretty standard underworld dealings, not much use to you guys, but very helpful for our own campaign against the Justicars. We’ll put it to good use convincing the local civilians of Justicar duplicity, and we can get the ball rolling for more significant support within the Senate and other governmental organizations.”

 

I nodded along. So far so good.

 

“Now, for the more pertinent stuff. The Justicars have definite ties to both the Imperials and Kardan, who in turn are definitely working with each other. As far as our analysts were able to determine so far, the Justicars are, in many ways, just a pawn for both Kardan and the Imperials, who are using them to funnel money, weapons and material. The Imperials have a pretty clear motivation for what they’re doing; it sows chaos on the Republic capital, makes us look bad, and so on. We’re not sure why Jek Kardan would be involved in this, but we’re not privy to the details of his betrayal.” He stopped talking, looking directly at me and raising an eyebrow.

 

I put both my hands out in front of me. “You know about as much as I do about Kardan, Drav, I wish it were different. This isn’t some ‘need to know’ load of sithspit or anything, Garza sent me down here to get more information for her. For all of us.”

 

Drav shrugged, fortunately missing the implication that I might know something about traitors other than Kardan. “Well, not much we can do without more information. We weren’t able to pinpoint the exact location of Kardan’s hideout, but we were able to narrow it down to a general area within the Works. Industrial area, not supposed to be much in the way of civilian habitation or anything. We traced some significant power surges to the following areas.” The terminal projected a holographic map of the district on the table between the three of us, outlining the basic structure of the Works.

 

I pointed at the highlighted area, the one SIS suspected was Kardan’s hideout. “Getting in will be a bit of an issue. Only one continuous path that doesn’t leave us open to easy ambush, and even that is being generous. Can you guys provide another diversion?” He stroked his beard, contemplating things. Jorgan coughed. “Something to add, Jorgan?”

 

The Cathar coolly looked us both over, then jabbed at another part of the map. “Kardan has to know that too, or else he’s a fool. We should send our diversionary effort in that direction, where they will expect an attack. We can find our own way in if we move quickly enough.”

 

I nodded in agreement. “That’s about the best we can do. We best get moving, though, I’m sure someone with the Justicars will have notified Kardan of the ruckus in the area earlier, and if he was smart enough to help found and run Havoc, he’s sharp enough to figure out there’s something else going on. What can your people do for us, Drav?”

 

Drav was unusually quiet for anyone, let alone the man once known as “the Mouth from Murkhana'. “We’ll send two squads up the route Lieutenant Jorgan recommended. I’ll coordinate with local command for additional assistance. You’re going to need it.”

 

As Jorgan and I left, having swapped our inconspicuous light armor for our standard Havoc gear, I slapped Drav on the back to cheer him up. “Relax, buddy. We’ll be back in no time, then we’ll get ourselves some extra time off, find some good beer and have a good time. Well, as good a time as we can with Jorgan around.” I made a jerking motion with my hand.

 

Drav laughed and slapped me on the back. Jorgan made some sort of strange gesture in response to both of us. Drav was still smiling as I lost sight of him.

 

The Works reminded me a lot of Ord Mantell – not many nice people, lots of smoke, and a foul odor that no armor or olfactory filters could quite keep out. One important thing did change, though – unlike every mission on Ord Mantell, our plan worked for the most part. The SIS attack on the main thoroughfare drew off most of the Justicar defense force, and Jorgan and I had reached the outer defenses of Kardan’s base without incident.

 

It was the helmets on the defenders that gave away that our smooth sailing was over.

 

“Imperials,” Jorgan whispered. “Four along the outer wall. Sounds like another three or four in the anteroom behind them.”

 

He motioned towards the entryway, then pointed at the grenade at his hip before pointing at one in my belt. I tapped my helmet twice to let him know I understood. Then, we went to work. The outermost troops never knew what hit them; those that survived my grenade were blasted into a million pieces by Jorgan’s. The two survivors from the others went down with holes in their helmets, never seeing my blaster firing death at them.

 

Jorgan and I pushed forward, past the corpses and wreckage, and found ourselves in a large room, half modern electronics and industrial construction, half rock. Across the way, still unaware of our presence, was a middle-aged man talking to an Imperial officer. Around them, arranged in a semi-circle, were eight Imperial troopers. I assumed the man was Kardan; I couldn’t remember what he looked like from the time I’d done research on him for a paper at the academy, but he had the swagger of a trooper.

 

We couldn’t risk another greeting-by-grenade, so I fired my pistol into the air once and motioned at Jorgan to let him know to follow. The incredulous look I got from the cam in his armor would have been hilarious if we weren’t so likely to die.

 

“Good evening, gentlemen. If y’all could kindly keep your hands where I can see them, we’ll just take you into custody. Nice and easy.”

 

The Imperial officer looked as if he couldn’t decide whether to be outraged or amused, Kardan seemed to be having the same problem. The troopers were unreadable behind their helmets, but I decided their armor looked pretty stupid anyway. I noticed Jorgan had flipped the modifications on his assault cannon back on to allow for a clean sweep of the room if we needed it. Even though I didn’t really care a whit for the Imperials, I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

 

“Jek Kardan, in the name of the Galactic Republic, I am arresting you on the charge of treason.”

 

He smiled tightly at that. “Son, I know who you are based on that armor, does me proud to see someone brave like yourself wearing the Havoc colors. But you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, you don’t know why I’m here, and it’s pretty clear you never will. Turn around, walk away. You don’t have to die here.”

 

I grit my teeth. The man was certainly annoying enough to have rubbed shoulders with Garza.

 

“No can do, Sir. I know Tavus and the others were frustrated by the Republic, but that’s no excuse for treason. Not for them, not for you, not for anyone. You’re just helping the Imperials kill more good men and women right now.”

 

He shook his head. “What I’m doing is defending the good men and women who’ve been betrayed by the Republic they fought for. Fought for so long for it, too. I’m fighting for Tavus and his men and everyone who’s served under any command , the people the Republic has forgotten.”

 

“That’s a load of crap, sir.” I was getting annoyed, now. “I can respect loyalty to your friends, but are these guys your friends?” I jerked my thumb at the Imperial lieutenant, then pointed around the room at the other Imperials. “Last I checked, if Tavus and the rest of that bunch were so concerned with the future of the Republic, they’d have made an effort, any effort to try to change things. Instead, they tucked tail and ran, then turned rat and joined the Empire.”

 

I cut him off before he could get a word in.

 

"You and Tavus are just the same, always making excuses and trying to pass the blame off to someone else. The Republic ain't perfect, but last I checked it also wasn't run by a bunch of genocidal maniacs with weird facial tattoos. You want to sell us out, fine, but at least be honest about whose boots you'll end up licking. Not some glorious Imperial warrior, but some Sith that's just as likely to wipe a planet clean of life as they are to respect you."

 

His reddening face revealed I’d hit close to home, but he kept quiet. So did the lieutenant, who seemed out of his depth with any conversation lasting longer than a couple of sentences.

 

“General Garza wants you back. Alive.” Something flashed in his eyes, but too quickly for me to figure out what it was before it was gone. “She wants you to help us bring Tavus and the rest of his squad back in, alive if we can. She isn’t looking to make examples of them, but she is looking for them to answer for what they’ve done.”

 

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “You’ll bring them in alive? You swear?”

 

I nodded. “I swear it. On my honor, by the Maker."

 

"And you won't just bring them in to have them summarily executed?"

 

I shrugged at that. "I can't say what their punishments will be, that's way above my pay grade and not something I can guarantee. I can promise they'll be treated fairly so long as they're in my custody, and they'll be treated a helluva lot better than an Imperial defector to the Republic would be treated by the likes of our friends here."

 

His face seemed slightly less creased now, more relaxed. “If you harm them unnecessarily, I will kill you, I can swear that myself. But, you’re right. I didn’t sign up to work with the likes of these guys. Or the Imperial intelligence contact we have visiting, either. I know Tavus had his reasons for defecting, but I don't think he'd have wanted it to turn out like this."

 

I couldn't trust myself to speak, my heart was beating so quickly. So, I just nodded.

 

"Let me help you clean up this mess, son.”

 

Realization finally dawned on the face of the Imperial officer, but he was far too slow, and it was far too late. I nodded at Kardan; he, Jorgan and I all opened fire. The blaster bolts flew across the room, creating an awful symphony of shots and screams.

 

All eight Imperial troopers were down, with multiple blaster bolt holes smoking in their armor. The lieutenant was in worse shape; what was left of his face was almost as unpleasant to look at as Jorgan’s whole one. Kardan, for once, had kept his word – two of the kills were his, and I was pretty sure he’d scored a couple of hits on the officer too.

 

“Where’s the Intelligence officer?” My voice was rough, harsher than I intended it to be, but I was tired of the games. Tired of the treachery. Tired of the crap these traitors put good people through.

 

Kardan nodded over his right shoulder, some kind of small alcove with at least one computer terminal in it. I could hear some heavy wheezing coming from inside. We both pointed our weapons at the alcove Kardan had indicated. I announced our intentions as clearly as I could, enunciating through my helmet to be sure nothing was lost.

 

“To the Imperial Intelligence agent. You have five seconds to present yourself, arms raised and weapons dropped, before we open fire.”

 

A male voice answered. A familiar one.

 

“Ayrs, my boy! Is that you?”

 

I felt the bottom of my stomach fall into a pit, felt my hands instinctively moving to remove my helmet. No. No. It can’t be. Not him. Not here.The man slithered out of the small alcove, hands raised. I saw an old face, lined with age. A familiar face to go with that familiar voice.

 

Jorgan sounded confused. “You know this guy? How do you know an Imperial intelligence agent? Sir?”

 

My head was pounding, and my heart felt about ready to jump out of my chest. I could feel my jaw clench and my finger caressed the trigger on my pistol. I felt dizzy, felt like throwing up, but I wasn’t going to give the Imp the pleasure of seeing me so affected.

 

“Because I didn’t know him as an intelligence agent, I knew him as the mayor of my home town. As a friend, practically family. I don’t know what he is any more.” I spat at the man’s feet and then finally did throw up, aiming for him as best I could.

 

His eyes aglow with pride, Fillo MacTyre gave me a savage smile.

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Note:

 

Fillo MacTyre was a resident of the town on Ithaca Ayrs is from. He also happened (*cough*) to be the one that told Ayrs what happened after Ithaca was attacked, as briefly outlined in this short story on the Short Fic topic. More to come, of course.

 

Edited by Lesaberisa
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Trigger: Violence/unpleasantness. Ayrs beats up a defenseless old man!

 

Note:

A little of Fillo's taunting is taken from Gladiator, which i've been forced to watch about fifty times. MacTyre himself wasn't a mentor or anything like that to Ayrs, but was a good family friend, the kind kids might call 'Uncle'.

 

 

My fist caught Fillo on his left cheek, hitting him with enough force that he lost his balance and went down to one knee. Blood spurted from his nose, and he let out an audible gasp. Jorgan stepped forward, hesitated, began moving again and then stopped when I gave him a sharp look. I stepped towards the man and hit him a couple of times in the stomach, hard enough that I could hear the air sucked out of him. He doubled over in pain, so I hit him in the head again, then gripped him around the collar with both hands, lifting him clean off the ground so I could look him in the eyes.

 

“What did you do, you son of a *****? What did you do?! I shook him. He cringed, so I shook him again, only harder. “You were involved, weren’t you? You sold us out!” My usually mild voice was roaring in my ears.

 

Jorgan put a hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off. Fillo had apparently decided not to answer my questions, so I decided to give him some incentive, slamming him up against the wall and sliding one arm to press against his throat. “Answer me, you piece of filth.”

 

He finally responded to that, sort of, baring his teeth and giving a small chuckle. I dropped him, letting him fall unceremoniously to the ground, where he curled into the fetal position. I removed Mom’s old DV-22 from its holster and placed it against his head, digging into his skin. “Give me a reason not to pull the trigger.”

 

Jorgan’s hand returned to my shoulder. “Sir.” I tried to shake him off again. “Sir. We could use him alive. If not for our purposes, the SIS’. It's not worth it, sir.” He didn't sound entirely convinced, though.

 

My heart was still pounding, so I took a deep breath, then let it out. Then, I took another one. And another. I felt the weight on my chest lightening a bit, and let the barrel of my pistol slide off Fillo’s face. Stay cool, Ayrs. Don't let him win. He took a deep breath of his own, then finally managed a response.

 

“Come now, Ayrs, you are a dutiful Republic soldier. Surely you understand the necessity of behaving yourself in the present situation.” His friendly drawl was gone, replaced by the slimiest of Imperial accents. “Now, be a good little boy and deliver me to your superiors. They will be most displeased that you mistreated me. If your mother were still alive, I imagine she would be most disappointed with you right now.” I felt the blood rushing to my head again. His eye took on a demented glean. “So sad that she is no longer with us."

 

I hit him again, square across the face with my armored fist. He just laughed.

 

“When Imperial Intelligence assigned me to that backwater waste of life-supporting landmass that is Ithaca, I never dreamed it would be such an enjoyable experience. Naturally, the Empire was quite interested in an isolated colony populated at least in part by Republic veterans and their families, but it was such a bore for so long. Imagine my surprise to have none other than a Martell move to Eurycleia with her degenerate Jedi husband. Imagine my joy to be able to report on her growing family firsthand. No doubt, it played a part in moving Ithaca up our target list.” He smiled, licking his lips, then skewered me with his gaze.

 

I moved to strike him again, but Jorgan held me back this time. That seemed to amuse Fillo too.

 

“Ah, saved by the dutiful alien. No doubt he believes that if he behaves like a proper soldier he will be rewarded, but subhuman trash can never rise above the muck. If he is lucky, perhaps the Empire will stuff his corpse and display it in a museum one day, as a warning against non-humans ever presuming too much about their place in the galaxy.” I heard Aric snarl, even through his helmet. “My goodness, just look at his feral response. No emotional control, no self-awareness. It’s a wonder the Cathar didn’t genocide themselves into non-existence.”

 

My mind was still reeling. Too many questions, too few answers, too many bad memories, too much pain. Fillo MacTyre had been a friend to my family since I was old enough to remember someone other than my parents, he had been there at our birthdays, been there when we celebrated my acceptance to the academy on Corulag, been there when times were bad too. He was the one that was there when you found out about home too. Now, it seemed like he’d never really been there at all. Never existed at all either. The Fillo MacTyre we thought we knew was just a shadow on the wall, an act, a charade.

 

“The entire time you were just spying on us, for useful information or something to use against us. You pretended to be our friend so you could sell us all out to the Empire.” My voice was wavering, not from disbelief but sheer exhaustion. Fillo seemed to be taking pleasure from that, as well.

 

“Yes, my dear boy, initially I was simply to observe the planet and determine the potential value as a military target, as well as from a psychological and morale point of view. After getting to know your family and others, I realized what a sublime demonstration of Republic impotence an attack on Ithaca would represent. What more symbolic representation of the folly of your government than to see the charred corpses of her former servants lying strewn across the field on the holovids. Absolutely breathtaking, both as a concept and to be seen in reality.”

 

Kardan, who’d been entirely silent the entire time, looked like he was about to be sick, perhaps only now realizing the full implications of what Tavus and the others had done; what he had been about to do himself.

 

“Ayrs, you need not take this personally, it was a privilege to know your family. It is a shame that they chose the wrong side of the war, but let us not speak ill of the dead. Perhaps, someday, a Martell will understand the wisdom of supporting the correct government and MacTyre and Martell can be friends again. It would be pleasant to see such growth on the part of your family, and even more so to not have to spend years of my life speaking like an inbred peasant so as to not give away my true heritage.”

 

I hit him again. And again. Hard. He spat blood to the side and then smiled again.

 

“Or, perhaps not. It really matters very little at this point. I admit, it was slightly unsettling to find the bodies of your siblings in the charred remains of your family’s house, but I prefer to think of it as a blessing. Had they lived, they might well have grown into Republic loyalists themselves. A terrible fate averted, both for your siblings and the galaxy at-large! Merely a pity that I could not be the one to pull the trigger.”

 

My chest was heaving and my heart hurt. I could feel it pounding away, boom, boom boom. Aric had both of my arms under control, so there was nothing I could do, even as Fillo’s mouth curled into a half-sneer, half-vicious smile.

 

“I am told your mother did not die so well, but her years in the Republic military obviously left her unable to face the harsh realities of the galaxy. One of those responsible claimed she died screaming, and I do not doubt it.” I felt like screaming myself, but nothing came out of my mouth when I opened it. “Screaming like the harlot she was, I presume, the kind that opened her legs for the like of your father.”

 

It took all of Jorgan’s strength to hold me back.

 

“You…you helped kill them all. Not just my family, all those other innocent people. And you claim that’s strength? Wisdom? Virtue?”

 

Fillo wiped more blood off of his face with the back of his hand.

 

“What do you know of virtue, boy? Virtue is not meek subservience in the face of struggle, virtue is not the surrendering of strength to serve the weak masses, certainly not those you find in the Republic. It is not virtue that compels the Republic to allow the likes of that creature behind you to wear its colors. It is weakness, pride and sinful weakness. You wear your tolerance as a badge of honor when it is the herald of your destruction. You pretend as if that beast might be your equal when in reality he has the mental capacity for hard labor at best. The Republic is failing, the Empire is rising. We will bury you.”

 

This time it was Kardan that slapped him across the face, leaving him wheezing and gasping for air as he lay sprawled on the ground.

 

“Keep rambling, old man. If you’re lucky, you’ll be in your grave before we bring the Empire down. If so, I’ll be the first one dancing on it.”

 

His answer was unexpected. “Will you dance on your sister’s grave too?” He must have seen the confusion on my face, because he kept going. “Your sister slaves away in the service of the Empire, unwittingly assisting us in the destruction of everything her family held dear. Amusing, is it not?”

 

My…my sister? But…they’re all dead. I worried for my cardiovascular system, because my heart was beating about a million times per second.

 

“What’re you talking about?”

 

He laughed, spitting out some blood as he did so. “Your sister Veresia was on her way home when the attackers arrived in Eurycleia. She might have even escaped had she not taken it upon herself to avenge your family rather than wait for our departure. The things she did to the men before we could contain her. We never did determine how those burns were created...” His voice trailed off and he gave an involuntary shudder, the first sign of his self-control slipping I’d seen. “It took five of Lesankyo’s men to bring her under control, which convinced him she was better off being sold on the slave market than merely killed. A waste, I imagine, she could have had such more…pleasant…uses.”

 

I barely heard him. My knees, already feeling weak, felt like jelly, but the weight I had carried for all these years was suddenly gone. My eyes were watering from tears and rage, but my vision had never been more clear. I hadn't lost everything - almost, but not quite. I had time to make things right. And I would.

 

“It must pain you to know that she serves the Empire as a slave while you dance for your Republic masters, moving in tune with their strings as they are pulled. No doubt, some proper Imperial officer has acquainted her with the full range of activities an attractive young woman in her position must be open to. So terrible to know that, yet be unable to help in any way. It would almost be tragic, if she weren’t so richly deserving of her fate. If she is lucky, she will grow up to be a whore. Just like her mother.”

 

I laughed in his face. If only you knew the extent of your stupidity, old man. My sister is alive, and I would never have known if it weren't for you.

 

His smile wavered for a moment, then disappeared. "Your sister is like a trapped rat. No friends, no family, nowhere to turn. She blind and struggling, with no hope as she scrambles around in the dark." His smile turned into an outright sneer. "No hope, no future. She's all alone."

 

“Not alone, never alone. She has me.” I hit him with my pistol, knocking him out and silencing him for a while. Kardan caught Fillo as he slumped against the wall, looking half-ready to strangle the man himself.

 

She’s alive. She’s alive. She’s alive. My head was spinning. I will find you Ver, nothing will stop me. Nothing. Maker willing, we will be together again

 

Republic troops were pouring in the room when I woke from my daze, dozens of them with varying insignias. Drav must have really gotten to work. The man himself was leading the charge, sauntering towards me with that blasted smirk on his face. He paused as he took in the bodies on the floor; nine dead imperials and one living, then made his way to stand next to me. I wondered if he was contemplating the amount of paperwork this would require.

 

None of that matters. Only family does. Only Ver.

 

“Hey there, chum, I heard you wanted a diversion, but General Garza managed to one-up even me.” He winked at Kardan, which drew an annoyed snort in response. “We’ve secured the entire area, and the Justicars are throwing in the towel in their area. We’ll have the entire sector under Republic control in no time. All thanks to me.“

 

He leered at Kardan, who looked like he'd have rather taken a blaster bolt to the head than deal with the likes of Drav.

 

I nodded my heard towards my prisoner. “Drav, this is Jek Kardan. He has agreed to be taken into custody, peacefully. His conditions are known to me and acceptable, but cannot be shared.” My friend scratched his head; usually he was the one making vague, unhelpful declarations. “The worthless piece of crap on the floor is Fillo MacTyre, late of the Imperial Intelligence service. Do what you want with him, he deserves the worst.”

 

Drav eyed me warily and spoke even more carefully. “Didn’t you mention knowing a Fillo MacTyre from back on Ithaca?”

 

She’s alive. She’s alive. Stars above, she’s alive.

 

I nodded briskly. “We thought he was our friend, but he was working for the Imperials the whole time. He’s not as smart as he thinks he is, though.” Drav looked puzzled at that. “He let me know my sister is still alive, in Imperial hands somewhere. He thought it would make me feel pain, regret, paralyzed from fear. He was wrong.” I smiled.

 

I am not alone. Neither is she. I will find her, no matter what it takes. No matter how hard the fight or how lonely the path. We’ll face the future together, like Mom would have wanted.

 

“What did it make you feel, sir?” Jorgan piped in for the first time in forever

 

My smile grew ever broader, powered by the warmth in my heart and joy in my soul.

 

“Hope.”

Edited by Lesaberisa
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For once, Garza seemed unequivocally pleased with our performance, even if it was Drav and the SIS who got to take official credit for the operation rather than Havoc.

 

"I have reviewed your report on the mission, Lieutenant, and I must say that I am very impressed with the results, as well as your ability to coordinate efforts with the SIS without compromising Special Operations or revealing unnecessary information that would jeopardize the entire organization. Agent-in-Charge Tallin was quite effusive in his praise for your conduct." She paused, but continued when my dazed expression indicated I had nothing to offer to the conversation. "In addition, you convinced Jek Kardan to peacefully turn himself in with nothing more than a promise we need not adhere to if it undermines our objectives."

 

I cleared my throat a bit nervously. "Sir, I intend on keeping my promise to Kardan; I gave him my word, and I am not a man who goes back on that. Certainly not just because it's convenient. Sir."

 

Her expression darkened at that, but - despite my good mood - I was not going to budge on this issue. Jek Kardan might be a traitor and deserving of severe punishment, but if I started breaking my word just to make my life easier, what else would I find myself doing? No, he should stand trial. They all should. I shook myself awake as Garza resumed talking.

 

"I must say, I was somewhat concerned with the future of this squad after your first few days on Coruscant. There was your disobedience in the matter of the cyborg threat to security, the fight in the cantina that shed unwelcome light on all of Special Operations, and - certainly not something to forget - the incident with the nerf steak in the barracks." My face flushed red at that remark. "Nonetheless, you have met and exceeded expectations, and done so with only one-third of a full squad. Your successes here on Coruscant have been extraordinary, and will serve as a reminder to all that the Republic fights on."

 

Her gaze moved over my shoulder to Jorgan, then returned to me. Some part of me hoped it made him as nervous as it made me.

 

"It is time to move on from these sorts of operations in the safety of the Core, though. Havoc Squad is more than a military unit, it is a symbol of everything the Republic stands for, and that symbol needs to be seen. Not just to stave off any rumors regarding Commander Tavus and the other defectors, but also to inspire the citizens that we defend and the service members we serve alongside. You will be the vanguard of the revival of a Republic that does not fear the Empire, is not afraid to challenge evil where it exists and restores the confidence of the freedom-loving populations of the galaxy."

 

Not a bad speech. Maybe 7/10.

 

"The task ahead is clear. SIS has been hard at work to determine where Tavus and his followers have gone and what they are planning to do. We do not have complete information, but we have a start. On my end, I will do everything within my power to bring the squad to full strength as soon as possible, and will coordinate efforts with other units to supplement your strength as needed. I have also requisitioned a BT-7 Thunderclap for transportation around the galaxy."

 

I cleared my throat, else I’d never have gotten a word in.

 

"Sir, I've had some basic flight training, but I’ve never even seen a Thunderclap before, let alone flown one." I paused, remembering the trip to Coruscant from a few weeks before. "There was a pilot, damn good one, who flew us here from Ord Mantell. A Flight Officer Stavros Nikolaidis, if I remember the name correctly. Good man, could use a break. I'd love to have him as our squad's pilot."

 

Garza looked a bit taken aback by what I was asking, but nodded.

 

"I will run the appropriate background checks and ensure he is qualified. If there are no issues, I will expedite the process." She leaned over her desk and punched a couple of buttons on her terminal. "I took the liberty of assigning your unit a droid that will assist in the more mundane details of your missions and handle various administrative duties for you.”

 

Oh joy, a droid.

 

“Thank you, sir. If I might ask, where is our first assignment.”

 

A frown crept onto her lips, but only a slight one.

 

“We have reliable intelligence placing Ryler Dorant – Needles – on the planet of Taris. Tell me, Lieutenant, have you heard much of that world’s history.”

 

Heard much of it? Hell, I had played simulations of the events surrounding the Taris of three centuries before. Who hadn’t spent countless hours playing “Revan, Knight of the Republic”?

 

“Yes, sir. I studied it on my own while I was growing up and took a class on planetary defense strategy at the academy. I wouldn’t say I’m an expert, but I’m no stranger to the story. I’ve heard the Republic is working to rebuild it, make it a home for displaced refugee and what not.”

 

She nodded. “Indeed. Whatever Needles is doing there must be stopped; we cannot allow him to hamper the reconstruction efforts on that planet. They are imperative for demonstrating Republic strength in that sector. Your mission will be to confirm his presence on Taris, ascertain the purpose or purposes of his activities, and then eliminate him as a threat. If you can capture him and return him for interrogation, so much the better.”

 

This time, it was my turn to nod. “Sir, are we to coordinate with the local garrison, or are we operating on a need-to-know basis? I don’t want to compromise the bigger picture if I don’t have to.”

 

“You will be operating under the strictest security protocols – the last thing we need is to have stories of mass defections flying across the galaxy. With that in mind, I have already established contact with a senior officer in the Olaris Reconstruction Zone, a Colonel Gaff. He will be your primary contact while on Taris, though he is unaware of the specifics of your assignment.”

 

I tried and failed to suppress a laugh.

 

“Did I miss something, Lieutenant? I was unaware of any humor in my briefing.”

 

I bit my tongue, which seemed to work.

 

“Uh, no sir. It’s just….his name is Gaff, like gaffe, a mistake?” I chuckled nervously but didn’t hear Jorgan or see Garza joining in. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I waited for the blow to fall.

 

“I will…overlook...your comment. Report to Hangar Bay 256-C1 at the spaceport, your ship will be waiting.” She snapped to attention, we followed suit. “Good luck.” I pivoted on my heels and marched out, catching and then passing Jorgan, who seemed to be processing something.

 

“Everything alright, Jorgan? You seem troubled.”

 

He gave a slight grin. “Everything’s fine, sir. Just taking mental notes on how not to converse with a senior officer, is all.”

 

Maker, what did I do to deserve Aric Jorgan?

 

We managed some small talk during the ride to the barracks to pick up our gear, and then from the barracks to the spaceport. Nothing particularly significant, but I still wasn’t keen on inviting Jorgan to know my most intimate secrets. Still, he was decent enough company when he wasn’t whining about his demotion or bragging about his time with the Deadeyes, enough so that I was caught by surprise when we rounded a corner and found ourselves already at our hangar bay.

 

“Jorgan, one question. The Deadeyes were a sniper unit, yes?”

 

He nodded, as we passed through the first security check point.

 

“Then, if I might ask, why are you using an assault cannon now? Doesn’t going from something with a long, thin barrel to a massive gun like the one you have throw you off at all?”

 

He seemed unsure how to respond.

 

“I’ve been trained to use all weaponry, sir, so I was more than prepared for transitioning to a larger weapon.”

 

I contemplated that for a moment.

 

“Hmm, interesting. So you’re not just overcompensating for something with the cannon?”

 

The look on his face was well worth any future consequences, and his muffled growl carried on until we entered the hangar and got our first look at our ship. He whistled in dismay and I took a step back in shock.

 

“What did she call it, a Thunderclap? By the Maker, this thing is almost as hideous as you, Jorgan” I thought I saw the hint of a smile on his face, but it might just have been the shadows. “Certainly not saving the galaxy in style in this thing.”

 

"More like Thundercrap, sir." Jorgan's grin was killed by my side-eyed glance.

 

"That was terrible, Jorgan. Just terrible. Don't ever do that again."

 

A shiny golden droid was making its way down the ramp.

 

Oh, stars above. Kark this, it’s not just a droid, it’s a protocol droid. I wondered if the nightmare would ever end.

 

“Master, I am C2-N2, and I am pleased to report that I have been assigned to this unit at the request of General Garza. I am most honored by this assignment and will endeavor to serve as best I can in every way I can. I look forward to handling administrative duties for you as well as various cleaning of the ship and other tasks. I –“

 

“You will shut up. Now.” Jorgan’s groan reassured me that I was not alone in my feelings.

 

“But, sir –“

 

“Zip.” I put a finger over its “mouth”, before letting my arm fall back to my side.

 

“But, sir –“

 

“It.” The finger returned to its position in front of the droid, falling back much more slowly this time.

 

“But-“

 

“Zip it. Zip. It. No more talky from you, do you get me?” I tried giving the droid as stern a look as possible before realizing that I was just wasting my own time. “The quieter you are, the less likely I am to deactivate you.”

 

I pushed past him and into the monstrosity that was now my home, making for where the blueprint said my cabin was. I heard a loud crashing noise behind me, heard the droid blurt something out, heard Jorgan yelling something in a language that I didn’t understand.

 

It was quieter in my cabin, thankfully. I dumped the bag with my personal effects on the bed and made my way to the holo-terminal. Holonet access almost makes up for having to fly around in this rust bucket. I punched in the appropriate code, and waited while the system dialed to Kuat.

 

An elderly man – clearly in his twilight years but with a fire that burned incessantly in his eyes – stared back across the galaxy at me. His expression softened slightly as recognition spread across his features.

 

“Ayrs, I had heard that you were in contact with Thalia. I had hoped you might get in contact with me at some point.” He cut himself off a bit awkwardly, but Demetrius Martell had never been known for his social graces even before he grew too old to remember what social graces were in the first place.

 

“Yes, sir.” I frowned a bit at the sir, something that came automatically even though I knew the man only from Mom’s stories. “I have news about…about Veresia.” His eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly. The words that followed came out in an uncontrollable rush. “She’s alive, sir. I…acquired information from an Imperial source, and she was captured on Ithaca, sold into slavery in the Empire.” I paused. “Not the best of news but, stars, there’s the chance we can find her. I need your help, though, the family’s help.”

 

There was an awkward pause before I realized he expected me to continue. Or had drifted off to sleep with his eyes open, I wasn’t sure.

 

“I don’t really have any information apart from the name of the pirate that captured her, a Lesankyo. I don’t recognize the name and his file is classified above my clearance level for some reason. If you could lean on some people, get some palms greased…I’d appreciate it.”

 

It was a rare day when Demetrius Martell smiled, and when he did it was said to be a terrifying sight for all those who saw it. I was happy to note that that particular story wasn’t true for me.

 

“I will see what can be done. Rest assured, if Veresia is alive, we will find her and bring her home. No pirate, no Empire, will stop us. Anything else?”

 

“If you need any assistance from a more covert area, I’m passing along the contact information for a friend of mine in SIS, Dravis Tallin. He’ll help as best he can.”

 

He nodded. “Understood. I will contact the appropriate resources and see what I can do. I will keep you posted.”

 

“I –,” I had barely even begun my sentence when the connection cut out. Stars he’s a hard man to deal with. No wonder Grandma ran away to Ithaca.

 

I heard a knock at the door. Jorgan’s voice filtered through the door. “Sir, we got a message from Garza, assignment came up that’ll detour us before we can head to Taris.”

 

I activated the door’s controls and stepped out to face him. “Update me?

 

“Situation’s come up at a place called Port Riga, they need us to spring a hostage. Garza will brief us when we get there.” A shadow crossed his face. “Also….earlier today, Fillo MacTyre escaped from SIS custody. They’re still looking for him, but with his expertise, who knows.” Jorgan’s voice softened a bit. “I’m sorry, sir, he deserves what’s coming to him.”

 

I unconsciously rested my hand on my pistol. “He won’t escape justice. He won’t escape me.” Jorgan took a step back at that, then turned towards the crew quarters. I called out to his retreating form, “I’ll see you at the briefing, Jorgan. Should be interesting, at least compared with going to Taris. Unless you’re a rakghoul enthusiast, what’s there to see on Taris?”

Edited by Lesaberisa
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I read this start to current-point in one sitting. I should've started earlier, knowing how much I've enjoyed your SFC entries.

 

The Devaronian was a Senator on the Subcommitee for Navel-Gazing or something like that

Great, sharp bit of characterization. - on Ayrs, anyway; less so for the unfortunate Devaronian. The entire graduation piece developed and tied up really, really well. That isn't a unique trait on this thread.

 

I'm loving Ayrs. His personality is vivid and consistent, the snap (mis)judgments, the bad jokes, the physical awareness during moments of tension...thoroughly readable throughout.

 

Aric "Demotivation" Jorgan

I almost died. Almost. Had to live to keep reading.

 

The sound of Jorgan’s jaw clenching and then unclenching was what made life worth living.

...Yep.

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@ Bright

Thanks, I appreciate the kind words :) I had no intention of writing fiction of any kind, but I came to really like the trooper storyline, the Elara romance, the 'everyman' nature of the entire thing that really lets you have a lot of freedom in how you view the decisions you make, the motivations behind them, etc.

 

Writing Ayrs is a lot of fun, although I admit I had help, since he's an amalgamation of the good/bad/dopey of someone I know and a couple of fictional characters (and wishcasting on the part of me :o). He has his quirks and baggage, but he'll get to where he needs to be. Eventually ;)

 

 

General notes:

Bit of a lighter episode since this mission kind of bored me in game, I decided to focus on Ayrs' frustrations/terrible comedic timing. I also slipped in a short-story from the SFC thread

 

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

I plopped down into the seat next to Jorgan and stretched my arms well into his personal space, drawing what I was pretty sure was the Cathar equivalent of a dirty look in response. Not feeling particularly bothered by his continuing antisocial behavior, I languidly stretched my arms, this time safely behind me ,and slouched in my chair. His frown deepened, even as General Garza’s image flickered into view on our holo-terminal.

 

“Lieutenant, greetings. I apologize for delaying your arrival on Taris, but your presence is required for a serious situation on the independent space station Port Raga. Your former squadmate, Wraith, captured Senator Zorin Krasul and has imprisoned him somewhere on the station. Intelligence reports suggest she may view this as a chance to extract information about the Senate’s handling of the Ando Prime incident. Regardless, we cannot allow this type of brazen and criminal act to go unanswered.”

 

She paused, giving me the chance to interject, quickly. “Sir, if I may ask – what happened on Ando Prime? Commander Tavus mentioned it as he left Ord Mantell, but every time I’ve tried to research it in the archives I’ve been denied clearance.”

 

Her brow furrowed and her expression darkened. Reminds me of Mom a bit. I shrunk back into my chair.

 

“Never mind that, Lieutenant. We don’t have time for distractions. You will proceed to Port Raga, gain entrance using the identity being forwarded to your computer that the SIS has crafted, and rendezvous with Sergeant Jaxo on board, and she will brief you on specifics. Your mission is twofold; rescue Senator Krasul and return him to Sergeant Jaxo safely...and capture or eliminate Wraith. I trust in your judgement in that matter.”

 

Jaxo? My stomach did a roll to the left while my brain furiously tried to focus on the mission.

 

Jorgan and I both stood at attention, snapping off textbook salutes. “Yes, sir.”

 

Garza’s image flickered, then disappeared. An awkward silence followed, then we managd to collide with each other as we both moved towards the door at the same time. I moved to my left to give him space to move, but he anticipated wrong and followed me. We reversed directions and repeated our mistake on the opposite side. We stood, glaring at each other.

 

Finally, I took charge, and pushed past him to the cockpit to set our course.

 

Five hours later, and we jumped into the system. A couple of uninhabited plantets orbiting a faint star even less bright than the average Imperial trooper. I used the hour we had before entering Port Raga's admittance zone to prepare.

 

Unfortunately, my best efforts proved futile.

 

The conversation with Port Raga Control proved to be disastrous, even with the cover identity provided by Garza and the SIS. Twenty minutes in, and I felt like I was moving backwards.

 

"No, I don't have authorization, I'm coming in for repairs. If I didn't need repairs, I wouldn't be here in the first place. It's not I could get the authorization ahead of time, I couldn't exactly see a blown motivator in my future. Kark."

 

I grit my teeth in frustration, Jorgan momentarily flashed his in a grimace that showed he was as frustrated as I was. Senator Krasul was in that space station somewhere. So was Wraith. I didn't intend to lose either one of them because some glorified desk jockey decided that Port Raga needed to follow its own regulations, especially since - from what intel we had - it would be the first time in the station's history anyone did so.

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a couple of new blips on the scanner. Probably some kind of patrol boats or something. The Thunderclap would probably be able to take them out, but it'd blow any chance we had at getting onboard without attracting any real attention

 

"Sir", the nasally voice over the comm replied. "According to my supervisor, the problem is you submitted a YR-11 form which is appropriate for repairs up to 5000 credits in cost but, by your own admission, your own repairs will cost somewhere around 5500. Port Raga does not recognize the vouchers your provided from Czerka, either. However, if I can suggest a possible solution, there is a subsection within..."

 

I felt my right eye twitch and there was a loud pounding in my head. It sounded like Jorgan was choking on something. Maybe a hairball.

 

"...so if you provide us with copies in duplicate of those forms, we should be able to being processing your request."

 

This was why I hated traveling undercover, couldn't just fast-track my way through stuff like this. Worse, neither Jorgan nor I were particularly good with this kind of sithspawned nonsense either. Luckily, the horrifying droid Garza forced on us had proven useful for once and was shuffling towards me with datapad in hand. It turned to look at me, so I decided to focus intently on the scuff mark on the floor.

 

"Sir, I am most pleased to report that I have completed the appropriate forms as you requested. I hope you are pleased with my work, as I only live to serve."

 

I looked up and stared at the droid for a moment; I could have sworn the droid's nose was slightly more brown than the rest of its body, but it had proven useful this time. I waved a hand at it, and it shuffled over to the main console to transfer the forms. Moments later, we got the approval. The droid didn't need to have its ego stroked, though, so I deactivated it for the time being.

 

"Hopefully your briefing with Jaxo is less awkward than your last one. Sir," I heard from behind me.

 

My eye twitched again.

 

The docking bay was empty, as were the corridors as we made our way to the rendezvous point. Strange, very strange. I tensed, unsure if the clear path was due to Jaxo and her people taking care of it or Wraith setting up a trap. Jorgan seemed to be having the same doubts, though, judging from the way his head moved to scan up and down the hallway.

 

We reached Jaxo and her squad after another five lonely minutes. Her face lit up when she saw us, tying my stomach into knots. Possibly my large intestine too, I wasn’t so good with anatomy.

 

“Lieutenant! Boy, am I happy to see you are our backup. Can’t think of anyone else I’d like to see on this job. Although…I’d rather have caught up to you somewhere a little nicer.” She flashed a smile, while I wondered how well my armor would filter out the smell of my own sweat. She leaned in a little closer. "Maybe after this is all over."

 

I decided the best defense was a good offense.

 

“What can I say, I get things done. My spec ops skills bring all the girls to the yard.” The only sound was of my heart breaking. Kark me. “Uh, so what’s the situation, Sergeant?”

 

“Wraith has Krasul strapped to what appears to be a pretty sophisticated explosive device. She has some men stationed around that section of the station too, but not many. Haven’t seen or heard from her in a few hours, though. Probably holed up somewhere out back.”

 

Hmm, simpler than I thought it would be. Assuming it’s not all one elaborate trap. My mind wandered for a moment, picturing the explosive decompression from Wraith detonating the explosive. Jorgan was spinning over and over as he flew out into space. Not all bad, if that’s what happens.

 

We made our way towards the large cargo bay where Jaxo had indicated the senator was being held. Resistance increased the closer we got, but it was surprisingly lax even still. The men weren’t even Black Sun caliber, and I felt almost guilty as Jorgan and I mowed them down as easily as we had training simulators back at the academy. Ten minutes and we found ourselves outside the bay itself. I clicked the comm twice to let Jorgan know I’d open the door while he provided covering fire so we could enter. He nodded.

 

Here we go.

 

I tapped the code into the console, then placed my back against the wall as the door slid open. I pivoted on my feet as Jorgan opened fire with his assault cannon, taking down two grunts that had the misfortune of being in our way. I sprinted towards cover peaked around the corner of the console I was behind, and was surprised to see nothing but a lone figure strapped into a chair that was surrounded by some nasty looking equipment and wires. The senator. I scanned the room a second time, and then a third. Jorgan double-clicked over the comm. We’re clear.

 

We moved forward, still angling our weapons for the ambush we had thought would be inevitable. It never came. Krasul had some tape over his mouth, so I carefully and gently removed it.

 

“Ow!” Maybe not gently enough. The Cathar, who seemed even more antisocial than Jorgan, fixed me with a malevolent glare. “You’re it? You’re the entire rescue team the Republic managed to send? This is outrageous.”

 

I hated him already.

 

“Don’t worry, sir. We’ll get you out of here. The two of us and our trusty mouse droid running the show back on the ship.” His glare intensified and he bared his teeth. “We make an excellent team.”

 

I flashed a grin at him, then bent over to take a closer look at the explosives. I was no expert, but it looked surprisingly haphazard for any kind of SpecOps trooper, let alone someone that took the pride in her work that Wraith did. Speaking of which…

 

“Senator, where’s Wraith? The Mirialan who was holding you, that is.”

 

His mouth shaped itself into a vicious sneer. “She already left, probably found out your little amateur hour effort was on the way and took off. About thirty minutes ago, she’s probably almost to her ship now."

 

Jorgan and I exchanged a glance. We could go after Wraith, but we’d never manage to catch her and do anything for the Senator. We could stay here and save Krasul, but we’d never be able to catch Wraith before she escaped. Assuming we didn’t blow ourselves up, at least.. Not much of a choice, but we couldn’t afford to sacrifice people for the small chance at petty vengeance.

 

I knelt back down beside the Senator. Pressure plate, frasium-based trigger. Luckily for Krasul, I’d been the kind of student at the academy that paid full attention to detail in all my classes, not just the ones I found interesting. Clip the wire underneath the mechanism, double-check for an auto-trigger attached to the mainframe. Cut the wire. Not that one, you idiot. Good, good.

 

I looked up to see Jorgan and the senator both staring at me.

 

“Sir, you were talking to yourself…” Jorgan’s voice trailed off. I heard Krasul say something about deranged humans and what sounded suspiciously like a threat to get me discharged from the military.

 

No time for this. I inserted a metal tube into the trigger to brace it, then took a step back. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Nothing happened. Good.

 

“Senator, I just need to take care of the secondary trigger and we’ll get you out of here and back somewhere safe.”

 

He regarded me with a look I’d seen on Jorgan’s face several times already, then nodded. I went back to work, carefully examining the device and trying my best to remember what Colonel Voros had said about redundant triggers that day at the academy. I think that was the one day I decided to pay attention to Rissa instead of the lecture. I worked through it carefully but efficiently; we didn’t have all day, either, since Wraith would no doubt figure out what was going on and institute any fail-safes she had.

 

At long last I found myself at the final decision; four wires and I had to cut one. Red, white, blue, magenta. Interesting mix. Something told me to go with magenta, but I wasn’t sure what it was; the Force? My generally reliable gut reaction? Possibly remembering one of those terrible Stevester Sallone action movies.I shrugged to myself, and ignored Jorgan’s muttering. I snipped the magenta wire and prayed.

 

Silence.

 

“We’re not blown to bits, if you’re curious.” Jorgan sounded faintly amused. Even Krasul looked slightly less repugnant, and managed to flash an almost convincing quarter-smile as I untied him from the chair. “We should get moving, sir. Wraith will probably have something waiting for us.”

 

Fortunately, she didn’t. We made it to the hangar Jaxo had marked for us without seeing so much as a maintenance droid. Jaxo and her squad were milling about aimlessly, and didn’t see us approach.

 

I jerked a thumb towards Krasul. “We’ve got ourselves a bona-fide Republic senator here, show some respect.” They snapped to attention out of habit, and I couldn’t manage to suppress a grin at that. “Any word on Wraith? She bugged out before we got there but maybe you caught wind of where she went?”

 

Jaxo seemed more interested in me than my questions, closing the distance between us to little more than the thickness of our armor. Keep cool, you idiot.. “Smooth moves, Lieutenant. Maybe you can show me some more another time.”

 

Krasul was unimpressed, shoving me to the side and ruining what little of the moment had been spared by my awkward silence and refusal to remove my helmet. “I don’t have time for these games. Are you getting me out of here or not?”

 

Jaxo made a face, but motioned to her squad to lead the senator to their ship. Before she left, she turned to me and smiled, “Think about it.” She winked, then headed up the ramp. I hoped my silence was more eloquent than it seemed.

 

I heard a cough from behind me. “Good work, sir. I’m very impressed.”

 

That caught me off guard. I raised an eyebrow as I glanced over at Jorgan. Mostly, I wondered what his angle was. “Really?”

 

He nodded briskly. “Yes, sir. You managed to not completely blow your opportunity with Jaxo. Progress!”

 

I wondered whether strangling him would be worth the court-martial and possible death sentence.

Edited by Lesaberisa
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