I jumped at every incoming call. Most of them were from Command. Those I didn't pick up on. The one from Balkar, an eternity later, that one I answered.

He was grinning. "Captain. We've got a hit on your docking codes."

My heart leaped. "Where?"

"Planet out near Hutt space called Voss. Funny place, only recently opened to anybody from elsewhere in the galaxy. They keep the Imps and Republic people pretty well separated there."

"So how'd we catch this?"

"Oh, the Imps monitor every step we take there. We monitor every step the Imps take there. It's sort of like Nar Shaddaa but slightly less populated, so easier on all of us."

"That's good. Excuse me, I need to hit hyperspace."

"I'll see you've got permissions under a strictly civilian ID; no use announcing yourself to the military forces there. Good hunting, Vierce."

*

The thing about landing on Voss, is it's a completely foreign planet with completely foreign everything and only the tiniest Republic enclave in their capital and seemingly only city. The good thing is that the Imps only have a tiny presence as well. The really bad thing is that there's a cease-fire at the diplomatic situation really demanded. I couldn't lose us this entire planet just letting loose the first chance I got. No matter how much I wanted to.

The other good part was that the Voss, for all that they were a little weird, were shockingly open about anything having to do with other foreigners. Which is how we found ourselves in a teahouse outside the offworld enclaves, facing a trio of Voss: a man and his adult daughter and son.

They were an odd-looking people, the Voss, colorful skin, speckled eyes, many as tall as I am but most of them, unlike me, thin verging on bony. All three I was facing were totally focused on me, and the tension in the teahouse hummed loud enough to make my ears tingle.

"I know of the man you describe," said the eldest, Therod-Ton. "He was a friend of my brother, Bas-Ton."

The young woman standing a step behind and to the side of him hugged herself. "He was no friend. He spoke only lies about Bas-Ton. And threatened us, offworlder, as though the honor due to Bas-Ton's friend were permission to harm us." Her strange speckled eyes narrowed. "If you wore the badge of the Empire as he did we would not have allowed you in."

"Yana-Ton," the eldest said with a sharp edge to his voice, "remember your place."

She bowed her head. "Yes," she said meekly.

Therod-Ton looked back to us. "He forced from us the ways to carvings of the Nightmare Lands. History. Secrets of the Voss. He is determined to defile them."

That made exactly zero sense to me, but I knew I wasn't there to mess with anything the Voss had. "Where are these Nightmare Lands? I have to stop him."

"Will another seek the carvings that are for Voss?" the younger man said darkly. He wasn't looking at me.

"Even an offworlder would be a blessing if he stops the other," said Therod-Ton. "We will show you the way. But I warn you, the Nightmare Lands cause madness. You must seek the ritual blessing to protect yourself."

"A little more crazy won't make a difference at this point," I growled. "Just tell me where to go."

The twisted forest of the Nightmare Lands opened for a glade far from the sight of civilized settlements. In the center was a ship of unfamiliar construction.

Cipher Nine took a careful look around, then approached slowly. He diverted halfway to his goal to meet the big alien who was approaching from a side path.

The Gormak crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at Cipher Nine and his followers. "You. You come for the Shining Man. Come for his machine that fell from the stars. He camped here three moons, studying ancient ways. Writing Voss scrolls. Writing Voss prophecies in blood and ink."

The faking that Cipher Nine had been tracking since he got on planet. "That's fantastic. Leading them around by the nose like he did…it all started here?" He looked past the Gormak to the little ship. "Doesn't look like much."

"I saw him come here. I am Xanar, outcast. I watched him fall." The Gormak gestured and led him to a holoprojector set up beside the ship – both open and damaged, the Cipher now saw. Xanar stooped to activate something: a short silent recording of a man Cipher Nine didn't know, dressed in strange clothes, armored in the confidence that suggested he was a true professional.

Xanar stepped back. "I hold the memory of this star machine in my hand. The Shining Man corrupted it before he left, would have burned it. I saved it." Cipher Nine idly wondered whether that expression of his was satisfaction. "Now we bargain for his records," said the alien.

Cipher Nine scoffed. "No, we don't." He already had his blaster out. He made it quick; matters were moving too fast for him to play games, except for the really really tempting ones. The Gormak wasn't tempting. He was just a speed bump.

Cipher Nine checked the alien's pockets, swiping every data chip and identicard he could find. "One of these," he said to his subordinates, "tells me how this man wrapped up the entire planet of Voss on three months' prep." He straightened and smiled. "This day just got twice as good. Now, let's find someplace more comfortable to be."

This is more than a day after his conversation with Vierce, by the way.

Seriously, when I heard how messed up the Voss got with the fake prophecies? I was awed and ferociously jealous.

I mean, that's horribly unethical and no one should ever do it.

The second thought process never kicks in for Cipher Nine.

The road into the Nightmare Lands was narrow and half overgrown with sickly blackened plants. Rock walls rose on every side, ragged and steep; eventually they closed too tight for us to continue on speeders. So we went on foot.

The black mists covering the whole region from a distance should've warned me. It wasn't any more pleasant up close. Something itched between my shoulderblades and I couldn't get rid of it. This place was creepy. I think the others felt it, too. Yuun was hesitating more now, sometimes just to shiver. "It is everywhere," he said. His hands were waving and clenching nervously. "This place blocks. Conceals. There is a stench."

I slowed. "You doing all right?"

He straightened up a bit. "Yuun will continue. Where the path leads, we all must follow." He looked around and blinked slowly. "It will be no surprise if the path ends in this place."

*

A long uncomfortable time later something smaller than the usual twisted wildlife rustled in the dry brush on the ledge above the roadside. We only had a second to think about it before a lean guy burst over the edge and came straight at me.

I caught his fall. He swung a knee way harder than anyone that size should have been able to, slamming into my stomach until I folded. I grabbed at his jacket and struggled to bring the guy down with me while Yuun gave a high warning chitter. "He has the scent of our quarry," said the Gand. "Yuun has tracked this."

The stranger was lashing out like a trained fighter twice his size. "Pin him," I ordered, grappling with him myself. The chance for an uppercut and quick followup cross didn't seem to slow him down any; instead, as he reeled back, he produced and extended a collapsible electrostaff. Not good.

I closed before he could get a swing in. I didn't want a guy who could already meet me shot for shot bringing a weapon to bear. We got in a few hard hits on each other before he cried out. When he did it was from some little precision shot of M1-4X's utility arm connecting with the back of his leg. I finally bore the stranger down and sat on him, pinning his arms to both sides while I lowered to yell in his face. "Hold still!"

He hissed at me. Jorgan was finally in to keep his arms down. That freed me up to hit the stranger again, this time in the ribs. No use smashing his face now that he was down; I wanted him able to talk clearly and I wanted him recognizable in case we needed him for negotiations down the line.

He was still writhing, not talking. Fine. Skip past calming him. "Where's Cipher Nine?"

His expression wasn't anger. It was pure fear. Didn't make his activity any friendlier. Dammit, if this guy turned out to be useless…I backhanded him, hard enough for his head to rebound off the ground. It jerked a little yelp out of him. He went slack, then screwed his eyes shut for a few seconds, then looked around as best he could with me holding him down. "No," he said weakly. "We must stop him, but we cannot…we cannot hear the song here. We must leave this place."

"Stop who? Are you talking about Cipher Nine?"

"We cannot hear the song. Please, take us from this place. Take us out." The man was on the edge of whimpering.

He was completely insane.

"We take him," I said. We might be able to pull something real out of him but it'd take more focus than we could afford out here in hostile territory.

So we went back to the Voss outpost in the foothills well clear of creepland. I had Jorgan ask the local commander for a private room; I stayed out of sight with the bound prisoner until we could go directly in.

I sat him down. I tied his hands tighter behind his back and fixed the bindings to the back of the chair to make sure he didn't get comfortable. I stood in front of him.

He was on the tall side as humans go, still shorter than me. Slim, with a harsh angular face and a harsh cut of straight black hair. Seemingly human except for blank black eyes, no whites at all. Dressed in rugged clothes that didn't the look of Core World fashion, not that that narrowed things down much. But Yuun said he'd been with the Cipher. That placed him as an Imp. "Now," I said. "You're out."

"Yes," he said. I couldn't tell where he was looking. He still sounded pretty out of it. I didn't much care as long as he cleared up enough to answer questions.

"You were with Cipher Nine."

"Yes."

"How recently?"

He blinked and straightened up a little. "A day, perhaps, since he left us. Or a little less."

"'Us'?"

"...Me. He incapacitated us…me…to leave me in the Nightmare Lands."

I couldn't afford either uncertainty or bull****. I leaned in to deliver a punch to his ribs. "One or many. Make up your mind."

He sucked in a slow breath. "Only...I...was left."

"Where was Cipher Nine going?"

"Further into the Nightmare Lands. To find the trail of an agent called the Shining Man."

"How many people are with him?"

"Three Imperial agents. One droid."

Bad odds. "Who is the Shining Man?"

"We do not know. – I." He shook his head hard and gasped a little – probably pain catching up with him just from moving. "I do not know. He and we were investigating in order to find out." He took a few labored breaths and looked up at me. "I must ask. Am I a prisoner?"

The downside of a guy still trying to remember which way was up: stupid questions. "Figure that out on your own time."

"If you are Republic forces, we believe we can claim the rights of a prisoner of war."

"I am Republic, but as it happens I'm AWOL, so I'm already pretty far outside regulations. You've got nothing, Imp."

Something nagged at me. Regulations. Dorne wouldn't stand for this, not even the threats. None of my people should be. There were rules about treating one's prisoners. It was...it was one of the things that was supposed to set our side apart.

I focused back on the prisoner for a minute. He looked half dead just with the grime and fatigue, even before I'd laid into him. There was at least some alertness to him now, but not a whole lot of hope. It was my favorite way for Imps to be, apart from dead.

Dammit.

I looked over to Yuun. "Get me some water. And any med supplies we might need for a broken rib." Yuun nodded and hurried off. Then I went around to detach the prisoner's bindings from the chair, where they had been stretching his arms and shoulders out of shape.

"Got a name?" I said.

He gingerly rolled his shoulders, testing what limited range of motion had been freed up. "We are Vector Hyllus. We are on assignment to Imperial Intelligence with the agent Cipher Nine."

"Yeah, I got that part." I looked him over more carefully, but there wasn't much more to see: he'd been in the wild and hurting. He could do with a shower and a square meal. But first things first. "Before we go any further," I said, "you want to explain this 'we' thing?"

"We are a Killik Joiner," he said thickly, "it is our way."

The language was news to me, but I had guessed and feared the Joiner part. I'd seen them on Alderaan, humans taken over by bugs, brainwashed beyond healing, though I had met Jedi who had tried to bring them back anyway. It wasn't pretty. If a Joiner was all the way out here...could they make more of themselves out of any human they could overpower? Dammit, I needed answers, not more riddles. And not more active threats.

"Noted," I said. "You're going to specify when 'we' means you and the Cipher or anybody else, and when 'we' just means you."

"We will do this." He winced before I even had to raise my hand. "When we speak of the others, we will tell you. Otherwise it is just…me." He took a ragged breath. "We do wish to cooperate."

"Huh," I said. "I don't really trust lucky breaks at this point."

"Cipher Nine must be stopped," he said in a lower voice. "We would not turn against an ally lightly, but Cipher Nine is a blight that cannot be allowed to continue."

"Always great to find an Imperial who disgusts even other Imperials. Is that why he left you behind?"

"He has considered us a malcontent for a long time. When we challenged him over his treatment of our…allies…here, he finally chose to leave us there, where he knew we would die." He shuddered. "That place…silences. We could not sense the Killik hive mind, nor see any aura but darkness."

"That's bad?"

"This is not unlike Yuun's experience," Yuun said quietly. "If he relies on these senses no road would be clear to him there. With time the result may be the madness Voss speak of."

Vector turned his head toward Yuun and blinked. "Perhaps." He suddenly made a couple of clicking sounds in his throat; then, "Mists guide you, Gand."

Yuun started a little. "Captain?" he said. I nodded permission for him to talk, and he bowed in Vector's direction. "Mists guard your path, offworlder. How is it you know the Gand?"

He smiled weakly. "We were a diplomat before we joined Cipher Nine."

"Too bad you didn't rub off on him," I grumbled. I wasn't here for a cultural exchange. "Which way was Cipher Nine headed when he left you?"

"We do not know the way; but he was close to his objective. He will already be off planet, and…and we cannot go back into the Nightmare Lands. We, including you, must seek his next assignment elsewhere."

No. I couldn't miss him again. But if he was still a day ahead of me… "You'd better hope we can find that assignment."

"We have clearances. Connections."

Because handing this guy a holo was my first choice, right? "You use them to make trouble for me and mine, I'll make you wish I'd gone with the plan A of leaving you a paste on the forest floor."

"We wish to cooperate," he repeated earnestly. "What Cipher Nine seeks dwarfs the war with the Republic and any other concern."

"That so? Great. Then we'll have something to talk about on the way."

Killik link-blocking in the Nightmare Lands is completely made-up. I'm going to go for "creepy sensory distortions" out there as the main reason for distress. I imagine humans wouldn't be unaffected, they would just take the pain slower than more broadly sensitive species.

The Shining Man's own recording does note that he's starting to feel "the effects" of the Nightmare Lands and this wouldn't be a suitable training ground.

It's kind of odd to me how I have little sympathy for Cipher regarding his problems in the whole keyword thing. Generally I'm actually somewhat sympathetic to Kothe's actions. He used the keyword because he didn't trust the agent and indeed the agent should not have been trusted. Still the abuse of another person's mind should always be a bad thing, but I couldn't muster that feeling for Cipher Nine. In Crossfaction he is a very very good villain. Love to hate.

they got hold of Vector

Scourge woke to emptiness both familiar and not. He could not feel the softness of his bed or smell the caf that was made automatically at the same time each morning. He could not sense the cold of the rainy planet nor appreciate the warmth of his blankets. He was accustomed to his numb existence, but now there was a new emptiness, a void where there once was light.

Their experiment had failed. The final command had not worked, Coremi remained unresponsive and the medical personnel he called could not revive her.

He checked the medical bay hoping that somehow there would be a sign of change. He touched the glass of the tank and closed his eyes searching for any sign of life. There was nothing, not the terror of her recurring nightmares, not the combination of affection and longing that she never successfully hid from him, not even a spark of her presence in the Force remained.

He pressed his forehead against the glass. "You were not supposed to give up yet." He whispered leaning against the tank. He lost track of time, unsure of what he was doing or what he should do. His vision had always guided him and now his vision was gone. He searched for a task, something to give him focus before he gave in to despair. He opened his eyes and stared at her face, he would not keep her suspended forever in un-life. He would return her body to Balmorra where she would be laid to rest. "Goodbye." He said finally and turned away.

He checked his messages while he sent orders to have a crew prepare her body for transport. He found a summons from the Hand requesting his presence at a strategy meeting. He sent off a brief reply accepting the invitation, the charade would continue. He would subvert the Emperor's plans alone for as long as he could. There was no other choice.

He left his rooms feeling nothing and nothing, he could not even mourn the death of his hope.

I love Elara exploring Vierce's memories/dreams with him.

Kirsk is a flake, but he's there when he's needed. Love him

"Great. War criminals with a sense of civic duty." lol Also, I love Dagger Wing. I want them in the trooper line more, cause I love them.

Hunter.

M1-4X - Kirsk. *dies of laughter* Please, send flowers to the funeral.

Yuun getting to be awesome was...well, awesome.

Cipher Nine - I'm actually torn on which is more dangerous to the galaxy - Hunter or Cipher Nine. And that's saying something.

Vik being the only one who might come out of Havoc Squad with a clean record - hilarious.

Vector - I just, oh my goodness. It makes perfect sense for him to turn on such an evil man as Cipher Nine, but I am SUPER nervous about what's going to happen to him.

Oh my goodness this web, all these threads. Pull one and they all move. Delicious. Seriously impressed.

And then I read the following piece and I'm sitting here on the edge of my seat. Oh dear goodness!! Suspense!!!

With Shariss and Sumalee gone Rixik meandered toward the covered windows. Peeked between the shutters to the view of Coruscant's streets. Nar Shaddaa without the neon. And grime, at least in this sector. A speck, far down on the pedestrian level, approached another speck. A scuffle ensued, ending with one speck running off at full speed and the other left motionless on the pavement.

He turned away. That's what it all boiled down to, didn't it? The faster or more clever or stronger beating the crap out of the rabble and taking whatever they wanted. The disinterested looking down on it all, doing nothing.

"Rixik," Risha began.

"No offense, but I don't feel much like talking to you right now," Rixik said. He abandoned the core accent for his usual generic Hutt Space pronunciation. No reason to keep up the act around Risha. Or at all. Why bother? They were only marking time until Shariss traded them for something more valuable. Chattel again.

"I suppose that's understandable," Risha said, "but it's going to get very boring in here otherwise."

"Turn on the holonet," he quipped, "maybe I'm in the news."

She hesitated then crossed the room to the terminal. She selected a random program. It was an educational show, all about How To Secure Your Home HoloNetwork. Rixik paid attention with half an ear. Everything they recommended wouldn't stop a slicer with half a brain.

What exactly was Pollaran's goal with this move? Rixik tried to work through it but his thoughts kept going in circles. Darmas wanted him out of the way. But only him. He was content to leave Kirya and the rest of the crew in place for the time being. It could be revenge, but Rixik didn't think so. Pollaran struck him as far too practical to use up leverage for petty revenge unless he got something else out of it.

The ten thousand credit question was what.

Sumalee was right on one count. If Pollaran thought Rixik had dangerous information on him, he'd expect blackmail. That had been Rixik's first thought as well. He could surely afford the credits, so it was the secret that was important. Which was Rixik's second thought. But why bring in the authorities so soon? That was the orbital strike of the blackmail game, the kind of thing you did when your mark wouldn't play along. Pollaran could have shut him up with the threat alone and he hadn't even tried.

So. Pollaran wanted him out of the picture. Back to square one. If he wasn't playing the blackmail game, then what was he playing?

"I wish you met my father," Risha said quietly, disrupting his thought’s spinning flywheel.

Rixik scuffed at the short, cheap carpet. Any diversion from the present. "I did, remember? He tried to kill me. And Kirya."

Risha winced, "I mean before. Earlier. He never kept slaves. Anytime he found slaves he always let them go. Or gave them a chance on his crew."

"Signing on a pirate crew got me sent to Sevarcos. Besides, I'd have shot him just to be the guy who shot Nok Drayen.”

Risha snorted, “You wouldn’t have lived long afterward. His people were very loyal.”

“I’ll bet,” he grumped. At fifteen he didn’t care. The idea he might make it to more than twice that age never entered his mind at the time. Much like being responsible for other people, he felt odd doing true long-term planning. More than just making a quick credit on the situation. It was like wearing the wrong size shoes. “I have lousy luck,” he said finally.

The first program ended and the second episode started. Keeping Your Family Safe on the Holonet. Rixik rounded the corner of the inoffensive green couch and flopped on the medium soft cushions, staring at the acoustical ceiling, one eye still filled with static, “Stars, put me out my misery. Trapped in a budget hotel without booze and only educational programming on the holonet. I’ve lost my will to live.”

Risha hooked one arm over the back of the sofa, “You don’t want to die impersonating an architect.”

“I’m a very irresponsible architect,” he said without moving.

“No you’re not,” she said, “I made you a very good architect.”

“Really?” Rixik looked up, “tell me I didn’t design the Coruscant Bureau of Ships and Services offices. That building is hideous.”

“No.”

“Did I design this hotel?”

“No.”

“Thank the Force for small favors. It would be doubly embarrassing to die as an architect in my own building.” Rixik let his head drop back. Staring at the ceiling again. The program was droning on about being careful with your personal information, especially when visiting certain kinds of sites, so that nasty slicers wouldn’t steal your account numbers. He half wondered when this program was made. The advice was ages out of date. IGBC monitored account activities and sent reports to the owner. No one bothered grabbing real identities anymore when it was so much easier to create fake ones.

Reports. Monitoring. Pollaran knew Rixik was digging, but didn't think like a regular information broker. He thought like a spy. He wasn't after his own best interests except as they furthered Imperial goals. If he knew what Rixik had on him, the last place he'd want him was in the hands of Republic authority. So he must not know. And he had to be watching to see when Republic profogg grabbed the annoying gnat. Rixik sat up straight.

Risha looked over, "What?" she asked.

"How hard is it to slice into Republic arrest reports?" he asked.

"Depends," she replied, "what are you trying to erase?"

"Not erase. Add," Rixik said.

"Add?" Risha said, incredulous, "You're not thinking of planting a warrant for Pollaran, are you?"

"Nope," Rixik said, "Arrest record. On me. Let him think I got picked up. Then see what he does."

Risha frowned, "Dangerous game," she said, "even if I can do it he might not bite."

"He'll bite," Rixik said, "It's what he wants.”

“This would be easier if Shariss played along,” Risha said.

“I’ll count myself lucky if SIS lets us leave the hotel in an untracked taxi,” Rixik said, “I want to ring Pollaran’s bell, and see what he does when he pulls up his trap.” And trust Pollaran wouldn’t figure out his trap was full of eels until it was too late.

“I still think we ought to try to get Shariss or Sumalee involved,” Risha said, “It would look better than getting caught slicing into Law Enforcement records while under house arrest in an SIS safe house.”

“Good point. Just run a scenario for now and give them a day. I’ll try to hook them if they come back, but we’ll probably be on our own,” Rixik said. It would be better if Shariss could plant the info instead of slicing it. He wasn’t going to hold out a lot of hope. Shariss didn’t trust him. No surprise there. Sumalee...Sumalee he couldn’t quite figure out. “And let’s look into finding a hotel that’s not an SIS blind.”

Shariss held the lift open for Sumalee. It closed on the pair and began its journey down to the lobby. “I can’t believe you bought his story.” Shariss said.

Sumalee watched the floor counter, “It was compelling,” she said.

“Did you read his file, Master Sumalee? The guy’s a con artist. He’s got a bad actor’s command of accents and he wouldn’t tell the truth if you asked him what time it was,” Shariss complained, “I deal with his kind all the time. He’s scamming for a pardon before he disappears back into the walls like the kreetle he is.”

Sumalee turned slowly to face Shariss, “He contacted me before the system alert.”

“He knew it was coming.”

“How?” Sumalee countered. One colorful eyebrow raised.

“With a record like that he'd be a fool not to. He doesn't strike me as a fool.”

“There was no hint prior to the silent alert,” Sumalee replied, “He didn’t know.”

Shariss shifted her weight, "Master Sumalee, I don't have the benefit of your Jedi insight. All I have is my instinct. Instinct says this Rixik has ulterior motives. A lot of them. Despite his little altruistic charade back there, he's only concerned about himself. If you have a different impression I'd love to hear it."

Sumalee paused the lift, "You're not altogether wrong. But you're not altogether right either," she said. "Look at the record yourself. The worst offenses are old. There's a commendation from the patriarch of House Organa from less than a year ago. Besides, do you really think Risha would stay with that crew for so long if she didn't like them?"

"Risha isn't the best recommendation under the circumstances," Shariss objected.

"Risha always was a decent judge of character, if she was less than scrupulous about business partners," Sumalee said. "It's a little hard to fault her for that.”

“Still not stellar.”

“No,” Sumalee admitted. She leaned against the lift rail, “His thoughts are...painful. Intense. Thoughts of flight, of escape, hiding. Anger, hatred, bad memories. But behind it all was a sense of failure. Of gambling, and losing. When he said he wished to end slavery, he was not lying. When he said he did this for his wife, he was not lying. He had other plans for the information if I would not aid him, but selling it outright was not among them. Bartering for influence always was.” She fixed Shariss with a stare, “It was Risha who suggested he bring his information to me, and now she worries she made the wrong choice.”

Shariss sighed, “I already said I’d look into it. Pollaran looked like one of a thousand senatorial suck-ups. Just another leech. If he really is an Imperial spy he’s a damn good one.”

Sumalee nodded slightly, “It’s only fair he gets a fair trade for what he brought you. If Pollaran really is an Imperial spy, you owe him much.”

“All right, all right,” Shariss said, “I will see what I can do about letting him get a message to the rim or wherever.”

Master Sumalee leaned forward and restarted the lift on its downward journey, “Together again, the Triple Threat.”

Shariss shook her head, “He almost shot you. Do you have any idea the amount of paperwork I’d have to fill out if he had?”

“He would not shoot,” Master Sumalee said, “but I would go easy on the threats from here on.”

“What threat?” Shariss said, “I never made a threat. Well, not an overt one anyway.”

Sumalee went back to watching the floor counter, “Protective custody?” Shariss just shrugged. “Don’t hold too tight, Shariss, or you’ll lose both.”

L + 23 months

Ruth was down the hall putting Cole to bed. Wynston settled in the living room to read over his correspondence and some news bulletins. One of the first items in his feed happened to be a minor news note on a direct and positive consequence of a job Ruth had completed a couple of weeks back – just the sort of thing she found encouraging when she got to hear about it. He took the excuse to freeze the display and go find her. The necessity of staying connected notwithstanding, he took every excuse he saw to bring the conversation back to her while he was in town.

He paused outside the door. Within the nursery, Ruth was singing.

Wynston shied away from interrupting; there was likely a reason she was so quiet about it. But her voice was nice. Low, smooth, without the command that habitually edged her public speaking. He was no musical expert – far from it – but he could tell she carried the melody faithfully, and the flow of it soothed.

He had known her for years, and still she surprised him.

The song ended and Wynston stepped back to wait. Ruth emerged within moments and stopped, wide-eyed, just inside the hallway.

"I never knew you sang," said Wynston.

"I don't," she said quickly. "Or not…" She blushed pink, looking as off balance as he'd ever seen her. And as lovely in embarrassment as she was anywhere else. "Just for Cole."

He stepped forward to gather her warm small hands in his. "The rest of us have been missing out, then."

She squeezed his hands, taking up some of her usual proud carriage but keeping the blush. "You really don't have to say that. This isn't my talent."

"There's enough about you to praise without exaggeration, darling, I hardly need to make things up. You have a beautiful voice."

Her smile turned definite, and she met his eyes for a surging-heart second. When she once again cast her gaze down at nothing in particular, the smile stayed. "I sang more when I was little. My father played the mandoviol, some nights he would teach me folk songs from places he'd been." Her brow and her hands contracted both at once. "It feels like a very long time ago."

He guided her hands to his chest so as to free his own arms to wrap around her. "You'll have to let me hear the start of that song sometime," he said gently.

It worked to ease her away from her discomfort. She met his eyes again. "What, the lullaby? It's really nothing special."

"I didn't recognize it. It sounded like Mirialan?" He didn't know much of the language, but the sound was right and a few words seemed familiar.

She nodded. "Yes. I don't know what the words mean. Father said there was no Basic translation that worked as a song in its own right."

Wynston nodded. The words, whatever they were, were irrelevant to her and him and the loveliness of her voice and the quiet strength of it when she was addressing her son. He kissed her cheek. "Sometime," he said softly, "before I go, I would very much like to hear the rest of it. If it's not just for Nirals, that is." Again, if he had never heard it before, there was likely a reason. Still, he was selfish enough to ask.

"If it's mine it's yours," she said. Her blush was rising again. "But I can't just launch into it. Tomorrow, when I put him to bed."

"Tomorrow, then." He kissed her nose and then shifted his embrace to turn a little. "Come with me, there's something I wanted to show you."

- 13 years later -

Wynston floated in the sole tank of a private medbay on the Aegis. He'd been in there for two weeks now and might have to be for longer. The damage sustained in the last battle they had faced together had been close to fatal; now, slowly, he mended.

Ruth watched. Someone had set up a chair in here but she felt too tense to do anything but stand. His injuries were in part her fault. If she had done things differently he wouldn't have had to suffer this. Now he was right in front of her and she had never missed him this much in her entire life.

But he was alive, and he was close, and because of him the greater danger was past. The mission was accomplished, and the two of them were home.

Ruth set a hand on the transparisteel tank wall and sang.

It was the same simple lullaby he had asked about ages ago, its melody suited to her voice and its words soothing in their syllables. She never had gotten around to looking up what the words meant. It didn't really matter between her and him anyway.

The barely-audible hum of the monitors changed. A few life signs subtly shifted. Ruth had studied, in the last two weeks, what normal Chiss ranges were and what meant danger, but this wasn't danger. Just his heart rate stepping up a little, the way she had found it did when she sang.

She repeated the last verse just to have a little longer with him. After that…the fallout from the big battle was ongoing and she was the strongest fighter Wynston's people had in their efforts to stabilize the situation. If there was more she could do for him right now, it was out there.

"I love you," she told him. "There's work to do, but I'll come home as soon as I can."

She restored her command presence and headed out to face the galaxy. When she and Wynston were back together and whole, she wanted to have something good to show him.

Yep, she didn't stay in practice with the singing in canon, not after Rylon was a few years old. Though it might have bubbled back to the surface in some unguarded moment after Quinn's return…hmm…

Holy cow, it's a major headspace adjustment to think through Wynston's brain when a) he really cares about someone for her own sake and b) he's playing the natural dynamic with a considerate, affectionate, straightforward person. As opposed to the natural dynamic with Crazypants Djannis.

If one is training on colorful neutral planets such as Nar Shaddaa, as Ruth's father Colran did, and one is curious about everything after an insular upbringing, I could easily see seeking to pick up songs and any other cultural scraps one can. One of his friends at the Nar Shaddaa temple I mentioned was a Mirialan, so…possible source there.

This universe has gotten…dense?...over time? In Lodestone's first chapter Wynston noted that Ruth wasn't thrilling, not like he was used to, but now after three and a half years of knowing her he's still learning things. Another thing, here he still handles conversations in terms of eliciting reactions from her – his lifelong habit. Also, he likes her even when she's vulnerable, something that as hinted at in a recent SFC canon piece she never got a sense of and never ever cared to test with Quinn.

I’m glad you liked them. Both Sumalee and Shariss are problematic. It’s really hard to get a handle on these characters (for fic purposes) when you get five minutes of dialog with them at most. I liked both of them in-game, and I liked their connection with Risha. I know I made Sharis a lot more combative than she is in-game, but then, Kirya, Rixik, and company aren’t saving her bacon on the request of a Jedi Master. Quite the opposite. It’s also earlier in the timeline, so the cold war is still on and the Voidwolf hasn’t hit his stride yet. I figured that would make the SIS a whole lot less willing to take Rixik’s information at face value, especially with Pollaran’s complication.

Pierce and his squad did everything they could to keep the Pubs blind. Flash grenades, smoke bombs, and Arlos doing a brilliant job of finding an access panel to slice and kill the lights. The limited confines of the carrier and the number of friendlies forced the Pubs to fight cautiously. 'Friendly fire isn't,' was something drilled into their heads at whatever passed for Pub boot-camp. Pierce used their bleeding hearts to his advantage.

A lightsaber flashed at the edge of his vision and he turned to intercept the Jedi. If anyone on his team was going to face the Jedi General it would be him, he knew a few tricks for getting past cortosis-weave. The soldier in front of him went down as he withdrew his vibroknife from a join in the man's armor. Then he saw a red lightsaber parrying the Jedi's gold. His heart leapt in his chest as the Jedi was driven backward.

Pierce and his men made quick work of the remaining soldiers and took over the bridge just as the "indestructible" Jedi was disarmed and forced to his knees. He was able to make out the red-lit silhouette of a Sith wearing Republic Trooper armor beheading the General before turning to face him. The lights switched back on and the Sith removed her helm.

"My lord," Pierce greeted, his expression was grave but he hoped she could sense his joy at seeing her again. "I thought you were dead."

"Pierce," she answered cautiously, "I would have assumed the same for you."

He caught the edge in her voice and for a moment he was angry that she could even think he would join with the Captain or Darth Baras. He swallowed the emotion before she could misinterpret it and knelt showing her his neck. "Wasn't his choice I was spared, my lord. I'm with you, always have been."

She stared at him for long enough to make his men grow restless. He hoped they would hold their position, it would be shame for them to die fighting someone he would have killed to see alive again. Finally, to his relief she deactivated her saber.

"Get up," she commanded. "The last man to kneel before me was a lying k'lor'slug and I am not at all certain about you. However, we're on this vessel and the officers are dead, I hope you have a plan for getting us on the ground without the landing codes."

Pierce stood, again shoving his hurt aside as he assumed the flippant attitude he showed everyone. "Getting us on the ground sure," he grinned, "But I wouldn't call what we're going to do landing."

I had the Imp Vector on the ship. I had Yuun running files on the message dropbox account Vector voluntarily gave us access to. I had Jorgan monitoring the ship, keeping us in a dead patch of space with clear views in all directions. I had Forex keeping his sights on Vector. And I had Vector sitting, hands bound, opposite me, while he spun his story.

Hell of a story.

But Vector told it with a straight face. After describing the whole crazy scheme Cipher Nine had been chasing, he got back to the Cipher himself. "He believes this Star Cabal conspiracy has some power at its center that he will be able to steal rather than simply breaking."

"Power? Is that supposed to be people? Places? Weapons? Exactly what is he looking to get hold of, that's going to hand him all this influence?"

"We are not certain. We must not allow Cipher Nine to find out."

"Sounds like whatever it is they use for their pull would be quite the catch for your Empire."

"If loyal Imperial agents were on the trail we would reconsider this arrangement."

"Yeah. Too bad reconsidering isn't a luxury you have right now."

"That is also a factor," he said mildly. Now that he was out of physical pain everything he said was mild. And even, and steady, and with those eyes I had no idea how worried he was, and that bothered me. Even more than the Killik thing in general did.

"So all this, this Cabal, that's what Cipher Nine has been chasing full time ever since he blew off the SIS on Quesh."

"That is correct," said Vector.

I thought about it. It all sounded off. "I think this Cabal's got it all backwards," I said.

"We agree. Their purpose has been corrupted over time. Their original ideal, of breaking the power of the Jedi and the Sith over Force-blinds, there was an admirable sentiment in it, but they have since turned to darker ways in pursuit of their goal."

"No, the goal's wrong, too. Why are they so hell-bent on bashing Jedi and Sith? Seems to me ordinary people can screw up this galaxy just fine."

Vector opened his mouth and hesitated a second before speaking. "At this juncture, we are not inclined to disagree," he said.

"Well. We'll get your Cipher. And then after that I can sort out his last mission. And what to do with you."

Yuun knocked and opened the door before Vector could respond. "Captain," said the Gand, waving a datapad. "Yuun has retrieved this man's messages."

"Anything interesting?"

"Yes." The Gand handed me the datapad.

I looked it over; Yuun had brought up the only two new messages. "Huh," I said. "You've been declared dead, Mister Hyllus. Just the same, you've got orders to report for an assignment on...Corellia." I raised my head to look at Vector. "Any chance Cipher Nine was on that invite list?"

Black Joiner eyes being what they were, I couldn't tell where Vector was looking. "We expect so," he said. "We have always been assigned with him since we joined Intelligence."

Which made him party to a whole mess of things I wanted to resolve before this was over, and one thing in particular. "Best not remind me of that, Hyllus."

"Understood," he said meekly. "Still, if this summons is genuine, then we will find Cipher Nine on Corellia."

"And if it isn't I'm betting I'll still find something interesting." I turned away. "Yuun, lay in a course. We're moving out."

Vector's tragic disappearance on Voss may have been reported by Cipher Nine, but in the mess of paperwork that was Intelligence's dissolving I imagine certain messages may have been sent in error anyway. Such as reassignment papers for the recently deceased.

Vector being posthumously assigned to Corellia. Imperial bureaucracy at its finest. I can’t decide whether it is hilarious or tragic; call it dark comedy. Vierce is such a nice guy in canon. He's scary-obsessed in this AU.

The office door slid closed behind the pair, "I can't believe you did that, Rixik," Corso said

"Did what?" Rixik asked, searching for the terminal they'd come to slice.

Corso yanked the cord out of the painfully obvious security camera. "Flirt with that woman. The receptionist. What would Kirya think?"

Rixik flipped on the terminal on the desk and frowned. Normal holonet connection. "She'd think I was doing my job. No way our guy here bought a woman that good-looking for her brain." He felt along the surface of the desk for a seam. There had to be a hidden secure terminal, and that was the one he wanted.

“Come on now, that wasn’t very nice,” said Corso.

Rixik shrugged, “I’m not a very nice person. It got us in the door without shooting anything,” he said and went back to the desk. Nar Shaddaa brought out the worst in him. His fingers slipped along the edge and found an imperfection. Digging in with one fingernail, he pulled open the recessed panel. The display on the main terminal changed, now asking for a biometric login. Jackpot. Now to see if the spike he bought was worth what he'd paid for it.

“I was raised to treat women with respect,” Corso continued.

Rixik really wished Corso would drop it, “I wasn’t,” he replied without looking up.

“Hey, how would you like it if someone thought you were only good for…” Corso trailed off, embarrassed, “you know, for…for sex?” he asked.

“It gets boring after a while,” Rixik replied without thinking. Damm it. He shoved the spike into the terminal's input jack with more force than necessary. He'd just started feeling comfortable around Corso. That one unguarded statement was going to steer this stupid conversation into dangerous territory.

Corso blinked. “What, seriously?” he asked after a long pause.

There it goes. Safe answer or true answer? Rixik finally looked up, “Corso, every cantina in the galaxy advertises with silhouettes of naked Twi’lek women. Every pleasure palace has sexy holos of Twi’lek women. Even the crummiest dive bar on the most remote planet will have at least one Twi’lek slave dancer or server. Usually wearing little more than body paint. Cheap in every sense,” he turned back to slicing the console, “How would you feel if those were all humans instead?”

Corso shuffled his feet, “I never thought about it that way.”

“No one does,” said Rixik in a monotone, “No one cares. Twi’leks are beneath notice. Figured that out a long time ago.” The answer might have been safe, but he didn’t have to like it.

There was a longer pause. The terminal accepted Rixik’s spike and he has access to its contents. He began a data dump. “You care,” Corso said.

Time to change the subject, “I don’t care,” he lied, “I bet you a thousand credits that the holoplayer in the corner over there has a naked dancing Twi’lek girl on it.”

Corso crossed the room to the holoplayer and activated it. A life-sized blue silhouette appeared accompanied by thumping bump-and-grind music. As Rixik predicted, it was a female Twi’lek, her nude body animated in exquisite detail, performing an erotic dance to the rhythm. Corso shut it off. “Guess I owe you a thousand credits,” he mumbled.

“Don’t sweat it. Kirya would never let me collect,” Rixik said. He tapped his foot waiting for the download to finish, “Besides, it wasn’t a fair bet, and you didn't agree. I wouldn’t sit on any of the chairs in here if I were you.”

“You do care, though,” Corso insisted. He scuffed his feet again, “My father used to say that if you’re not a part of the solution, you’re part of the problem. You ever...you ever think about doing something about it?”

Download complete. Rixik yanked the spike and erased evidence of their entry. He bit back the snarky reply that would send Corso away for good. The one where he asked where the separatists thought Corso’s father fell on that scale. “This is Nar Shaddaa,” he said instead, “There are no solutions and everyone’s part of the problem.”

Technically, the holodancer is something you get for the collector’s edition, and not available in the cartel market, but I went with it anyway. I wanted to poke around with Corso’s jealousy and idealism. AU Rixik isn’t as accepting of the Twi’lek stereotype as his canon counterpart. He might trade on it just as much, but he doesn’t like it.