Wynston heard her stir behind him. He kept looking out the window, his hands folded behind his back to keep them still. The shaking was lessening by the day, but sometimes it broke through the injections anyway. Outside the night sky was restless, lightning fretting the clouds in an unending arhythmic attack.

"How do you stand it?" he said. It was she who had told him there wasn't a quick cure for the urge.

"One day at a time," she said. "One minute at a time, sometimes, in the beginning. I think about how bad it was before, and how good it can be now that I'm clear."

"When does the wanting stop?"

Pacha's sigh lipped the edge of hearing. "It doesn't. I get momentum from all the successful days and minutes, but there's always some part of me ready to jump right back in. That's why I'm so careful around cantinas: it doesn't stop."

Outside the storm went on and on with no pattern or control. He could almost pick out the shape of his resentment in the clouds. "That...wasn't the answer I wanted, Minder of mine."

"I know. I'm sorry."

It wasn't her fault. He turned around. She was sitting up, her nightclothes plain and grey, her exposed face and throat dark copper, her hair black and falling in rare disarray about her. He didn't want to talk about this anymore. Instead he came to join her. "Let's go back to that uptown dance hall tomorrow. I liked the music there."

"All right." She wrapped her arms around him, and the warm steadiness of her pushed his uncertainty away. Somehow she knew when to be sensual and when to just be here. Now was a time for just being here.

He didn't like making promises to women, didn't like hanging his future on someone else, even in the little things. But he was tired and aching and she was kind, and this was just a small thing. One minute at a time.

***

Some flash or movement from the window awakened Fixer Thirty-Four. She curled around to see Cipher Nine – Wynston – framed and dwarfed by the curtains, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared outside. The formality struck her as odd. Fitful storm light played about his blue hair and thin figure.

He startled her without turning. "How do you stand it?" His voice, so lively and expressive during the day, was flat.

Oh. The craving. "One day at a time," she told him. "One minute at a time sometimes, in the beginning. I think about how bad it was before, and how good it can be now that I'm clear." She could promise him that. Things got better. Balance got restored. Life went on.

"When does the wanting stop?"

Ah. "It doesn't." She sat up, planting her hands at her sides. "I get momentum from all the successful days and minutes, but there's always some part of me ready to jump right back in. That's why I'm so careful around cantinas: it doesn't stop."

The Chiss stared out the window, tilted his head up as if seeking some patch of sky that would give him a different response. "That...wasn't the answer I wanted, Minder of mine."

Her encouragements caught in her throat. "I know. I'm sorry."

He turned around, his red eyes catching a little of the light. He crawled onto the bed beside her, and his expression was suddenly so calm it almost scared her. It was the first touch of fear she'd felt in his presence. "Let's go back to that uptown dance hall tomorrow," he said, his voice back to its customary confidence. "I liked the music there."

"All right." She wrapped her arms around him and felt him relax into her while they both lay down. She had seen him cheerful and she had seen him irritable, but she hadn't before seen him thoughtful; so, to play it safe, she was quiet.

Her concern faded as he sighed, already seeming half asleep. He was easy to soothe after all. And she did look forward to dancing. It had been a long time since a partner could keep up with her.

"You realize I can't just stop one hundred per cent forever. It's imperative that I drink on the job: social functions, setting people at ease."

"Well then, we should work on ways for you to limit yourself, to stop after one or two drinks."

"One or two drinks. There scarcely seems to be a point to that."

"Social functions? Setting people at ease?"

"Oh, ha ha. Very clever."

***

"Fixer. Do you have anything to report?"

"What's to report? He isn't drinking."

"Good. I understand you've gotten close."

Fixer Thirty-Four blushed like someone twenty years younger getting caught, but she kept her voice steady. "You could say that."

"Good. Just remember this assignment is of limited duration. Now. How is he holding up? His doctors tell me he's less than cooperative."

"We don't talk about the alcohol very much at all. But he seems happy enough talking about anything else. Backsliding hasn't been an issue."

"Good. He may put on a good face, I know how charismatic he can be. But I also know how much he values companionship. As long as you're not having problems, stay with him."

She knew all that, did she? "Keeper…when you say that. Not to pry, but just how well do you know him?"

"Better than his own mother." A rapid and interesting flurry of expressions passed over Keeper's face, visiting amusement, distaste, and a few other things the Fixer couldn't track. "Strictly professional, though. It pays to know what makes your operatives tick."

"I see. Well, I…I'll be there for him, then." As professional assignments went, this one was pretty damn good. "He's good company, anyway."

"The best, when he wants to be. Carry on, Fixer. His recovery can only be a good thing for all of us."

Wynston and Fixer Thirty-Four returned to the blessedly cold water glasses at their table while the band changed. Wynston looked around for a chrono. "Now, if we've got time..."

"Eleven oh three," she said at once. "I could go a while longer."

And she'd make him love every minute of it, this tireless yet thoroughly grounded creature with her conservative dress and her anything-but moves on the dance floor. But he still couldn't see a chrono. He looked around once more before turning his gaze to her. "Nice trick. How can you tell?"

Frowning, she tapped the black cybernetics surrounding her false eye. "Built-in display."

"Useful." He hesitated, decided they knew each other well enough to go on. "If I may ask...was that an elective modification?"

The hand grasping her glass went white-knuckled for just a second. "No."

No to 'may he ask' or no to 'was it elective'? Probably both. "Ah. Forgive me, I didn't mean to offend."

She relaxed. "It's all right. I'm a little surprised you haven't asked about it before. People usually don't hesitate to poke at cybernetics."

Bitterness there, likely justified. Pity; she was too sturdy and too striking a woman to have to be bitter. "It's your business. Just because it's visible doesn't mean it's not personal." Case in point, a man who got himself messily drunk daily.

He couldn't read the change that came over her expression. Intensity, but intensity of what, he didn't know. She stood and extended a hand to him, all but pulling him to his feet, where she leaned in to whisper, her lips brushing his ear, "Let's dance."

***

Wynston and Fixer Thirty-Four returned to the blessedly cold water glasses at their table while the band changed. Wynston scanned the room for something. "Now, if we've got time..."

She reflexively checked her false eye's chrono overlay. "Eleven oh three," she said. "I could go a while longer."

He looked around once more before turning to her. She was learning to read those Chiss eyes, and what she read now was curiosity. "Nice trick. How can you tell?"

Dammit. Dammit, drawing attention, stupid. She quickly touched a finger to her cybernetics and as quickly withdrew it. "Built-in display," she confessed.

"Useful." He looked at the floor, then back at her. "If I may ask," he said, too lightly, "was that an elective modification?"

Dammit. He had to have wondered before now, but he'd had the decency not to say anything. "No," she said.

"Ah. Forgive me, I didn't mean to offend."

Glib words, but nice ones. She made herself relax. "It's all right. I'm a little surprised you haven't asked about it before. People usually don't hesitate to poke at cybernetics." There, she didn't sound all that bitter.

"It's your business. Just because it's visible doesn't mean it's not personal."

That pulled all of her attention to him. There, in just a few words, was an understanding she would never have expected from a man who outside his own addiction seemed determinedly shallow. There was the reason he let her be, and perhaps part of the reason he seemed to have no problem looking at both of her eyes when he was with her.

She stood, offered him her hand, and leaned in close to whisper what she wanted from this strange surprising man she had been assigned to watch. "Let's dance."

I don't know if there are any people of the equivalent of Native American race in Star Wars; copper skin pretty much seems to equate to Sith lineage. That didn't occur to me until I tried to think of ways to describe my image of Fixer Thirty-Four and found that they all come out to "sounds like Sith."

In Part I, it may take a certain kind of life experience to immediately associate "covering up frustration" with "cause for fear." Whereas in Wynston's mindstate it doesn't even occur to him to smooth that frustrated/nice transition when he's coming to bed.

Affection was in on Keeper's reaction to Wynston, promise. The distaste is all for his physical charms.

I had a monstrous urge to change the last line of the last piece to "blah blah surprising man she had been assigned to keep an eye on," but decided that was hammering the body part too hard.

As a side note (Vector spoilers)

@Bright, My male agent hasn’t made it far enough to do Vector’s companion line, so I wondered about that. I guess its supposed to be the big romantic gesture (though my agent told him she was perfectly fine with his bugs ), but it seems like that would be interesting info to know regardless of whether you're a male or female agent.

*melts*

squee!!!! Thank ya

Very romantic setting for the reunion, never thought, I'd wish to attend a Sith party. What a nice place the Empire could be, if they would concentrate on some nicer emotions...

I hear ya. I like to think someone "normal" (*ahem, not Sith*) planned the whole event. That's the only way you'd be able to have something nice that didn't leave half the guests in therapy afterwards.

Plus, Lokin’s “It’s a phase; it’ll pass” made me smile for some silly reason. It sounded so like him.

Oh, I'm glad! I have the hardest time trying to write him.

@Marissalf: YAY!!!!! I got warm fuzzies now!!! and heck yeah....who wouldn't want to be able to use the force to rip that sheet off?!

I can think of no better use for the Force

@Bright, Love the different perspectives, especially the exchange between Keeper and Fixer 34. Someone unfamiliar with their relationship probably would wonder just how close she and Wynston were. And,

"Better than his own mother."

I have no doubt that’s true.

@DarthSillyMonkey, I enjoyed every bit of this story. I can’t even pick out a favorite part because I was grinning the whole time I read it. I loved the parade of horrible applicants as well as the ending. Also, <3 Blizz

@Lady-Jean,

Orgus kicked at the sand, "I know how tricky it is to walk that line, believe me. I also know the consequences of not walking that line.

I think this would be one of the more difficult parts of the Jedi experience. You have a padawan that’s almost like your own child (and a master who’s essentially a surrogate parent), making it extremely difficult to separate and control your emotions in any given situation. That will be interesting to explore as Maldecka continues to grow up.

@Yoshi, I can only imagine the shenanigans Pierce and Kaliyo would get into over the course of a weekend together. I have a feeling it will make a good story.

'Is it real?' Audra asks when the announcement ends. She places her hands on the holoterminal to steady herself. She glares up at where the Sith had been.

'Yes,' Guss clarifies in wobbly voice.

'So the Chancellor is dead. What does this mean for us?' Audra asks, straightening. She turns to her crew and looks at them each in turn. She wishes Risha was here. She wishes it so desperately.

'I don't know what the future holds for us but I promise I'll always be there. Not just for you, but for everyone you care about.'

Risha, when I see you again I'm going to slap you so bloody hard! Audra thinks with a scowl. But she can't blame Risha. It was Risha that wanted to be here but Audra forced her away from this war zone. Much to the gratitude of her husband, Audra thinks wryly.

'The war over head won't be over anytime soon and it would be suicide to try and make it past, Captain,' Corso replies. He looks to where the Sith's holo projection stood. He can place what was said to the side for now but that doesn't mean he can look at her.

Audra notices and takes a breath. She can also put her mistake aside for now. Right now, she has decisions to make.

'Correct. We can't go anywhere until the navicomputer is fixed either.' Audra checks the time on the terminal next to her. 35 minutes.

'Do we know the status on the streets?' Audra asks.

'Similar to usual, Captain,' Guss replies. Audra looks at him with mild interest and wonders how he hasn't broken down yet and run away. 'I was out there just before. Those that can are up there,' Cuss explains with a finger pointing to the ceiling. 'And those that can't are doing what they can to hold off the Empire's advance down here but it won't be long until they break through entirely. And there's another problem...'

'That is?' Audra prompts.

'The Mandalorian bounty hunter,' Akavai answers, speaking for the first time.

'Mmm?' Audra inquires intently as her gaze shifts to Akavai.

'The bounty hunter of clan Cadera, Grand Champion of the Great Hunt and Mandalore's adopted daughter,' Akavai answers. 'She was the one hired to take out the Chancellor.'

'And?' Audra impatiently prompts again.

'She is on the streets killing everyone in sight,' Bowdaar answers.

I take a few hours to fix a few things and seem to miss the end of the Republic, Audra dryly thinks in exasperation. Her crew shouldn't have to be the ones to tell her this. She should be telling them. She looks to the clock again. 26 minutes.

'We have no choice,' Audra announces. 'Sit tight here. Don't leave the hanger. If the situation changes, contact me immediately.'

'Where are you going, Captain?' Corso asks in concern, looking at her for the first time.

'I've paid for those supplies already and I'm going to get them,' Audra smoothly explains as she turns around to face the control panel. If Corso looks at her for too long her will spot the lie. 'The dealer is just a few miles east of the edge of Coronet City.' Liar, she thinks to herself. She types in some fake coordinates for fifteen miles out of town. 'I'll leave you the location.'

Audra leaves them then and heads to her room. The four share a look but depart silently. Audra looks around and picks up her jacket, throwing it on over her stained work shirt. She looks to her dresser and picks up Sparkles and her old blaster. She hesitates before taking a knife and decides it's the wisest move. She takes three and nods to her reflection when she's ready.

Audra turns to the doorway but it's blocked by Corso. There's too many emotions trampling through his eyes and running across his face for Audra's cursory glance to pinpoint even one. She doesn't hesitate in trying to leave but Corso doesn't move for her.

'Are the supplies that important, Audra?' Corso asks as he stares to the wall ahead.

Audra looks to the time on her dresser. 20 minutes.

'Yes. Don't worry, my man, I'll be back safe and sound. We'll talk then,' Audra assures. She reaches up and brushes her lips on his cheek. 'I promise,' she whispers.

Corso takes his eyes away from the wall and moves to lean down and kiss her but she isn't there. She's already left. Corso will look back on that moment for a long time and though the imprint of her smouldering lips on his cheek never seemed to leave, he regretted not looking at her. He regretted not kissing her. It wouldn't have changed what happened but it would have been the tiniest comfort to keep him company in the long nights; one more treasured memory of feeling the press of her soft lips. It would have been nice. It would have left Audra with a comfort as well. It would have let her know that Corso still loved her despite her stupid, stuttered reply. More than anything, if he had looked her, he would have known why she left was a lie. Maybe he would have stopped her; maybe he would have left with her; maybe they wouldn't have made it out of the city in time.

Corso paced the room for 4 minutes before making up his mind. He left to follow his Captain in one minute. Within sixteen minutes, they were both on opposite sides of the city with a perfect view.

Audra checks the message. She needs to know she read it right. Yes, she's here at the right time. She checks the location. Yes, she's here at the right location. She rereads the message.

'Meet me there at that time, Miss Audra.

Regards, your Piano Man.'

What did the Chiss want? It's been years. Too many years. Audra turns in an impatient circle and sees no person or speeder approaching. She looks down to Coronet City that lies a short distance from and below her cliff. She can't take in the way the orange rays of light reflect on the cities towers and walls because she's impatient. She can't notice the tragic beauty of it because it would be like a mirror. She can't know that almost beyond her sights reach even from the top of this cliff, is her farm boy. Her Piano Man isn't in the city or beyond the horizon. He's in a different sector, on a different planet and in a different time.

She looks to the sky but all that can be seen are the white clouds tainted purple and pink from the infection of the setting sun's rays. If she were in the right mood and not frantically worried of an ambush or being the target of a sniper, she would remember what she told Corso on Tatooine.

'The sun has already set.'

'What, Captain?' Corso asks in confusion.

Corso looks over his shoulder to her as she erects their tent and begins setting everything up. He has offered time and time again but after over a year of rejection and 'only getting in the way' he's given up offering.

'The sun has already set,' she repeats with a smile.

Corso looks back to the setting sun and then back to her.

'No it hasn't, Captain. Suns only just touching the horizon line.'

Audra shakes out their bed rolls and comes to join him. 'Nah, farm boy, it set ten minutes ago. It's a mirage. From the moment it touched the horizon, it was actually gone. The sight of it just lingers a little longer in our eyes.'

'Then why can I see it?' Corso asks in disbelief. It wouldn't be the first time she tried to trick him. He's become more suspicious now than he ever was but it hasn't taken away his belief in the good of others. A little wariness never hurt anyone.

'Light from the setting sun passes through the atmosphere at a shallow angle and is gradually bent as the air density pressure increases. It's just a coincidence that the bending occurs at the same diameter as the sun.*' Audra looks gently to the setting sun and smiles a little like at a joke of the past.

'How do you know that, Captain?' Corso asks.

'Reading. I read a lot for a decade or so there.' She shrugs as if it's no big deal but she feels a little ache. She misses the room she had full of datapads and a few blankets for a moment.

'Well, I know what I see, Audra,' Corso replies as he takes her hand in his, 'and what I see is beautiful.'

He stoops down and kisses her cheek firmly. She shakes her head as if to remove the gesture that has become momentarily imprinted on her skin and permanently imprinted on her heart.

'Sunsets are meant to be romantic but they are an illusion,' she quietly says. Corso looks down at her but her eyes are in the distant past. 'When things pass we don't always notice straight away. We delude ourselves to thinking they are still there but even then that illusion has to fail.'

'We're here, Audra. I'm holding your hand now,' Corso gently defends as he holds up their hands to her eye level. 'You can't tell me that's an illusion.'

'No, Riggs my boy, I can't. But I can tell you the sky isn't blue. Not everything we think we know is true or as it seems.'

'The sky isn't blue?' Corso asks in disbelief.

'No, it aint, Riggsie. It's all the colours but blue is the one we see. Colours have diverse wavelengths, frequencies, and energies. Violet has the shortest wavelength in the visible spectrum. That means it has the highest frequency and energy. Red has the longest wavelength, and lowest frequency and energy. Most of the longer wavelengths pass straight through the atmosphere. Little of the red, orange and yellow light is affected by the air. On the other hand, a lot of the shorter wavelength light is absorbed by gas molecules. The absorbed blue light is then radiated in different directions. It gets scattered all around the sky. Whichever direction you look, some of this scattered blue light reaches you.**'

Corso considers this. He didn't know his Captain knew so much. She is his blue sky. There may be more colours but all he sees is blue for most of their time. All he knew was blue. From a certain point of view, the sky is only blue.

The mirage half passes through the horizon and Audra sighs, rallies herself and shakes her head.

'It isn't very romantic now, is it? Knowing it isn't real.'

'It hasn't changed anything, Captain,' Corso disagrees. He squeezes her hand tightly for a moment. 'It's still as brilliant as it was before.'

Audra looks to the ending mirage that watches over the city and that's when she sees it. The first assault was like red rain drops. There was silence for a moment as if the planet held its breath for the impact and then didn't know what it felt. Then the screams began and the buildings began to fall. The second assault was larger and there wasn't a third. The second was continuous until there was little left. Fires broke out but there was no one to put them out. Injured needed attention but there wasn't anyone unharmed to give it. The sounds carried through the hot air and Audra stood in shocked stupidity as she watched the city fall and burn under a red blizzard, filling the streets with red pools and ash.

The attack lasted twenty minutes and Audra watched through most of it. She only looked away to pull out her holo when it beeped three times with a message. Her hands that were still steady opened it and read the blue illusion. It took Audra four attempts to makes sense of the seven words.

'It isn't your time yet, Miss Audra.'

Audra looks up from the words and shivers at them. Gratitude is the last thing she feels. She remembers his words: 'let's see what happens, shall we?' He hasn't stopped watching what would happen.

'Sick bastard!' she manages to half heartedly curse as the ground continue to shake.

The sound of her own voice, something familiar amongst the burning and death that is now carried to her on the nights gentle breeze, takes her out of her shut down.

'Corso! Corso! Corso, Corso, Corso, Corso!' she chants to herself as her body leaps onto her speeder and heads to the city which still is hit by straggling barrages.

Audra tries to drive through the rubble but the streets are now craters. The collapsed buildings are flatter. A wall falls from a building in a hit and Audra steers sharply to the side to avoid being crushed. She flies from her speeder and lands in the dust and dirt. She rolls onto her back and tries to sit and stand but she fails. Everything aches and her head pounds to the erratic beats of the missiles. Distantly, she recognises that the sun has set before passing out. The sky is black and the illusion has ended.

-----

* - Stephen Fry, 2010. QI. Retrieved from:

** - Science Made Simple, 2013. Why is the sky blue? Retrieved from: http://www.sciencemadesimple.com/sky_blue.html

Corso pushes his speeder as fast as it can go. He looks frantically out into the open plains and only sees trees, grass and distant buildings. He stops slowly when the city is on the horizon line of the hill he has stopped on. He didn't realise it has been so long since he left the walls behind.

Corso doesn't get off his speeder as he checks his location with the one Audra left. He left it behind a while ago. Corso takes out his macrobinoculars. He slowly and carefully turns in a circle starting at the city. Corso had his back to it when the first assault fell. The sound reached him like a distant rumble and his first reaction was to check the darkening sky for thunder clouds. It took the large magnitude of the second barrage for him to realise what it was.

From where Corso sat with the humming of his speeder, the cities destruction was only a haze of red light, smoke and grey. He drops the macrobinoculars, turns his speeder around and begins to head towards the city for a reason he can't define through his shock. As the sun finishes setting, the name comes to his mind and he drives faster towards Cornet City.

Twenty miles out from the cities walls his speeder runs out of fuel. He runs as fast as he can but it isn't fast enough. He tries to not stop but he has to. He has to slow to a walk before beginning to run again.

By the time he reaches the city, they have erected a temporary perimeter and no one is allowed through. It seems the dust of the destruction has covered the insignias worn by both sides as they work together to heal and find the dead. Corso assumes that no orders have been sent to either side. He wonders who has taken charge.

Corso spends hours pleading with the guards on watch and another hour with the ones after but no one is willing to let him through. Corso asked who was in charge and they laughed at that as if he had said the funniest joke they had ever heard.

'No one,' one of them says when there laughter dies eventually.

'We can't just let people through,' the other one who didn't laugh as hard replies. 'We're initiating a cleanup as per the standard procedure. Everyone who wasn't in the city isn't allowed in until it's done. We can't have people running around shouting and not helping anyone,' he explains.

'I can help,' Corso offers.

'No, you'll just look for your girl. We let one through, we will have to let all through. Camps will be established tomorrow for those who want to get in.'

'How long will the clean up take?' Corso inquires.

'Months,' the other one who had laughed the hardest replies. 'Better get comfy.'

Corso thought about reaching for his gun again and again but they constantly held there's at the ready. There was no getting in. Not at that point at least.

Corso spent the night stumbling in the dark trying to find an unmanned section of the breaks in the wall. He couldn't find any and even those parts that lay in ruins were still too high to climb at night. By the time dawn came, Corso was right back at the entrance where he started. A dozen people were there now, all pleading the same case as Corso. No one was being allowed in.

I study psych, not physics so if any of that was incorrect then apologies.

I also tried to find if speeders actually use fuel of some sort and came up with nothing so for my own purposes, they do

I enjoyed it. All of it. I should know better than to let the wall down. Waves...crashing waves.

He moved slowly through the ship; a hand lingering on the wall. His fingers still tingling from the power that ran through them. They would never forget. With a turn, he slide down the cold wall and crumbled onto the floor.

Such power...I destroyed him. Over and over again, he ran the last 24hrs back in this mind looking for the key to unlock the answer to the question that was driving him insane.

From the cockpit Kira could feel the anguish running over the ship in waves; the wires, lights, gears, walls creaking, sparking in response. Dropping the datapad she ran to him. Vannest was her rock yet here he was slowly destroying himself. Her face furrowed as she tried to see beyond the pain but it was black. Kneeling before him, she took his calloused hands into her own.

'Van...breathe...hun just breathe.' She tried to sooth him but his mind was unreachable.

I can see her dying...again and again. That is what would have happened in Scourge had gotten his murderous way. Attachment...the thing that was forbidden. It gave me strength when hope was lost. The thought of losing her, of failing them all. There was no saving the Emperor. He had to die so I killed him but...he could have been save. The masters could have done something...they have saved Orgus and others before him. I made the choice. Just as I have before...What will they think of me? Have I fallen? What have I become?

'You have made that choice before. From Taris to the temple, every day you make that choice...good or evil, save or kill. Hope in this galaxy had left you long before you arrived at today. You have seen too much. You are justice.' The voice inside him grew louder.

Kira's mind was a whir trying to understand why he was struggling with the emperor's death. The temple had fallen that was all. She began to doubt that answer. Looking into his soul she could see the black inferno and she knew. Her knowing only had her love him even more.

'Vannest...look at me. You did the right thing. There was no other solution. Breathe...breathe.'

Vannest looked up into her eyes. The battle going on inside of him growing quieter as he began to understand.

'I. Killed. Him.' The confession tumbled out of his mouth. Lips moist with tears crushed his as Kira wrapped herself around him. Light poured out of her as she enveloped him with calm, love and most of all hope.

'You saved us all. Every choice you have made over the years has led you to this day. You are Jedi. You are hope to this galaxy and you are my love. Rest in that...rest my love.' She moved behind him and cradled him, rocking gently as she sang a soft lullaby.

'Sleep.'

I always thought the the decision at the end to either save or kill the Emperor felt a lot like Anakin choosing between Mace or the Emperor and that killing the Emperor would deeply shake the Jedi Knight. So I wrote this. To face and destroy great evil a sacrifice had to have been made and for the Jedi, in my mind his belief in self would be shaken. Also, I believe that Kira would have supported him in either decision and for so long of her following him that she would finally get a chance to support and guide him.

Just my musings on the end of the Jedi chapter.

"You know, it's kinda hard to interrogate corpses," Mako sighed.

Swaindrix looked over his handiwork: almost two dozen guards lying in various states of dead, several security droids blown to bits, and Eidolon Security's facilities trashed. Then he remembered: they were after info on where Zee, the security chief, had gone. "Oh yeah."

"'Oh yeah'? Is that all you can say?"

Swaindrix's expression didn't change -- it rarely did -- but Mako could feel the mood shift. She still wasn't sure how. "Well, that first guy sucker-punched me. You know how that pisses me off."

"Yeah. But nobody else does, because you never leave survivors to tell the rest of the galaxy."

"I don't want to have fight the same person twice."

Mako marveled at something on the floor. "How did you cut this guy in half? You didn't even pull out your blades."

"See that table over there? I--"

"Never mind. I don't want to know."

The hunter's perpetual scowl deepened as he rifled through some of the scattered datapads. "So what do we do now?"

The slicer looked at the carnage again and shook her head. "Lucky for you, you have moi. And moi is the 'best little slicer in the sector'. Isn't that what you told me once?"

"Mwa? What's a 'mwa'?"

Mako laughed and pulled Swaindrix toward the door. "C'mon...I tapped into the security cameras. I know where to find Zee."

Okay, so Star Wars doesn't have French. Just call it "East Dantoonian" or something. There's gotta be some romantic- or effeminate-sounding language women use words from to sound cute from time to time.

“Do you ever feel like you’re not in control of your own life, Kira? Like some great, invisible, hand is directing where you go, what you do, and what you say?” I sipped my milkshake loudly as I waited for her response.

Kira had an unusually pensive expression for the longest time before she did so. “Not sure I get you, boss.”

I sighed, not quite sure how to respond. The feeling had been festering inside me like an open wound that never properly heals, but I could barely do it justice trying to describe it. “Well, like why do things happen the way they do? How did I end up as the Hero of Tython? How did you end up as my partner? How did we end up with Doc on our ship?” We shared a disgusted look on our face after the last one. “It just feels like our lives are scripted, like they’re on rails or something.”

She shrugged. “Maybe the Force has a sense of humor. A twisted sense of humor, when it comes to Doc.” She eyed me closely, studying for a reaction. “Anyway, let’s do something more fun. T7 mentioned he was developing a holo-game, why don’t we check that out and worry about metaphysical questions later.”

I giggled despite my best efforts to maintain a straight face and nodded. We made our way down to the cargo hold where the galaxy’s greatest droid made his home. T7 was fixated on the console he was working at and did not notice us arriving. I made a hand gesture at Kira, who nodded, and we approached in silence. The holo-images in front of him looked vaguely familiar. Wait a minute, is that….

“T7 is that me?”

Our surprise was evidently complete, as T7 let out a loud electronic shriek of shock. “T7 = did not hear you come in // Jedi + Kira = very stealthy, good for sneaking up on Sith.”

I had just started to formulate a response when the holo shifted, revealing the game’s version of Kira, who was doing some revealing of her own.

“What kind of outfit is that?!” Kira’s face was rapidly matching her hair in color. “I barely show that much skin at the beach let alone in battle.”

T7 beeped plaintively. “T7 = Appreciates sentiment // T7 = completed extensive market research. // Consumers = appreciate skimpy outfits.”

I planted my fists on my hips. This was getting out of hand, and I didn’t need to see the smoke coming out of Kira’s ears to know that. “When I encouraged you to work on your project, I didn’t intend for you to objectify us, T7.” He didn’t say anything to that, so I continued. “And why am I fighting with a hood up, that blocks my peripheral vision. Why is my character not putting her hood down?”

T7 let out a mournful wail. “T7 = bought game engine from other party and modified it // T7 + game engine having issues right now. Hoods = must be up or down.”

Another thought crept into my head. “So, T7, is this game basically retelling the story of my life?” He beeped an affirmative response. I felt warm, all of a sudden. “Not all of it right? I mean, there’s some personal stuff I’d rather kept out of it.”

“T7 = smart droid // T7+Jedi = perfect team.” He did an approximation of a nod with his ‘head’.

“I noticed you didn’t answer my question.” I watched as images of my duel with Lord Praven flashed in front of us. "In fact, you've been evasive this whole time, T7."

His beeps seemed higher pitched all of a sudden. “T7 = sensing hostility // T7 = going into standby mode.”

Kira and I exchanged a look. “Boss, I think you might be onto something with the whole feeling like a cosmic joke thing.”

I began typing my profile again, for about the tenth time in the past hour.

Single Mirialan female with membership in prestigious monastic order seeks humanoid male for romantic encounters of non-platonic nature that do not require attachments or abandonment of philosophical underpinnings of my very existence. Prefer man who recognizes beauty of calm, sedate, conversation and near-monotone speech. Appreciation of chocolate eggs, preferably cream-filled, highly recommended.

I sighed and erased the profile. HoloHarmony.com was supposedly great for meeting people, but it didn’t make things easier for someone with unique circumstances like me.

Single Mirialan female seeking stable social partner with no attachments for serious relationship consideration. Must not be allergic to Trandoshans or infatuated with holographic women. Prefer man with less body hair than a Wookie and good sense of personal hygiene. User “Doc” need not apply.

I stared blankly at my screen for about five minutes before my right eye twitched and I threw my hands in the air. “Why is it so hard to find a man in a galaxy filled with so many?!” My scream echoed throughout my cabin.

After a pause, the comm beeped.

“Jedi, I can help you with that.” Tharan’s voice had never been more irritating.

After making sure nobody was around to snoop, I opened my mail to see if I had any good leads from HoloHarmony. Bunch of nobodies and fools, like usual, and I was about ready to call it a night when I noticed a high priority message from a user named “IHAVEABIGGUN”.

I snorted, typical male posturing and immaturity in a single package. Still, I decided to open it for some laughs.

GR8HUNTER,

I read your profile. Sounds intriguing. Send me a holo. I’m a military man, with a fine taste in ordinance. My schedule is tight, and my CO’s a bit crazy, but I’d like to meet.

Aric Jorgan

Better prospect than I had expected. I began typing my reply.

"I'm glad you're willing to talk a little more about your history with alcohol. Was it a social habit in the beginning?"

"More or less. The social drinking didn’t turn into drinking-to-get-drunk until–" He cut short. Kaliyo. "A couple of years ago," he said. "Recently, in the greater scheme of things."

"And was there a reason for that shift?"

"Job stress. You understand I can't talk about it."

"Yes, we've come up against that before."

The honest days were the worst. It came naturally to him to lie, evade, confound. It felt better than the alternative. But he was in theory here to change, and that probably meant cooperating with the people in charge. It was just that answering these questions, cutting open his past, left him feeling dirtied and empty. Their spouts of positive suggestions, though he filed the useful parts away for future reference, did nothing to make him feel better. He started the day determined to do whatever it took and ended it feeling like somebody had just vivisected him without cleaning up before or after.

And so he didn't mention Kaliyo, and so he stumbled out to meet with Fixer Thirty-Four and finally change the subject.

"Good evening." He considered what he wanted to do. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to not be alone. Each of these was the most important. "I'm thinking of ordering in today, staying low-key. You're welcome to join me."

"Sounds like a plan." She never asked how his day went. She was good like that.

When they reached the hotel room the question, the memories, still rang in his head. "Can I ask you something personal?" he said.

"Yes." She seemed to consider discussion of her own life as part of the job description. If talking about herself bothered her the way talking about himself bothered him, she never showed it.

"Was there someone in particular who really contributed to making drinking problem drinking for you?"

She was settled in the chair facing the bed where he sat; now she shook her hair loose to half-cover her artificial eye and looked away. "Yes, there was. He was a boyfriend a few years back. We used to go out and paint the town red every weekend, and some weeknights. It got to where sneezing was an occasion for cracking a bottle or two, or so it seemed." Wynston stayed quiet now; she wasn't looking at him. She was far away. "I was crazy about him, but…when things started going downhill we didn't cut back, if anything we drank more."

"Downhill? What happened?"

She turned her face further. "I left. Well, he hit me, and I stayed because I wanted him and I was too messed up to do anything else, and we drank some more. I tried to leave a few times. Came back once out of pity and once out of fear, before he hit my daughter. That finally snapped me out of it. I didn’t care that much about protecting myself but I knew I had to protect her. So I left."

"Pacha…I had no idea. I'm sorry."

That finally got her to face him. "I got out, but it took me another year to get my act together. So yes. I know something about walking into trouble with somebody else." She curled up, hugging her knees to her chest. "Who was yours?"

"Her name was Kaliyo Djannis. She was a coworker, a contractor. She was a walking vice den, but alcohol was the cheap one we could get anywhere. The hitting was mostly consensual. Something about her, I couldn't stand to…that is, everything with her was a competition. At first I let her win rather than getting too drunk myself, but somewhere that fell by the wayside."

"Don't I know how that goes. So what happened?"

What happened? The vivisection was here after all. His tongue felt dry as he took in the breath that would have to carry his failure. "I left," he said. "Well, she used my clearance to obtain and sell secrets to some friends, anarchists, terrorists, for use in their attacks. Killing civilians. After everything…everything I did for her, everything I gave her. I think she just wanted to do it to know she was putting one over on me. In the end she tried to kill me. I should have killed her, but I couldn't. So I left."

"And that got you drinking even more."

"I had to pick up her slack," he said with a weak forced smile. "And it made being alone easier. She was…" Memory pressed at him and met the resistance of his reluctance to describe one woman to another. Well, skip the praise then. "She was crazy," he reminded himself. "Cruel, unstable, manipulative. A genius on the job, but if you think I make messes you should have seen…. I didn't care for her at first but I was assigned to her, so we worked. And she grew on me. And she used me, and tried to end me."

"I have trouble seeing you with a woman like that."

"Yes, well. I contain hidden depths. Some of which should have remained hidden." He studied his clasped hands. "I should have killed her."

"You got out alive. I'd say that's an accomplishment."

"It's not my safety I'm worried about, it's everyone else's. She's too dangerous to leave on the loose."

"But you loved her," she said softly.

The familiar ache throbbed. "I don't fall in love! I can't fall in love, Pacha. That's just what I am. And even if I did, it shouldn't have been with her. It should have been anyone but her."

"I know that feeling," she said. "Wynston, we don't pick who we fall in love with."

"There's always a choice. Or at least there should be. Otherwise it’s a bloody terrible system." No wonder he avoided it. He clasped and unclasped his hands, staring at them for answers and not getting any. "How do you forgive yourself for being that stupid?"

She looked him over, looked away again, then with an effort faced him. "When I think about him hurting Misha...I still haven't forgiven myself. But you learn to move on. There's a whole life to live, and if we screwed up parts of it...well, there's other parts we're just now getting to work on."

"There is plenty to work on, I know that. Much of it is repairs."

She smiled tiredly. "Can I tell you something personal?"

"Yes."

She raised one blunt finger to the black cybernetics arcing around her red eye. "This was around the second time I tried to leave."

Something cold landed in his chest. "Pacha, I…"

"I'm just glad I got out. I had friends. I don't know where he is now; I didn't bring charges, we don't have the strongest laws on the books for this kind of thing. I couldn't stop him. That means he's out there. But all I can think is that my daughter and I survived. Sometimes that has to be enough."

"You did get out. And got your daughter safe. That's all anyone could ask." It was just people like him that were supposed to do more than that. It was his responsibility to do more than that.

Her fingertips traced the polished curve around her eye socket. Her recitation had a singsong rhythm to it. "I remember he told me, nobody but him ever thought I was beautiful, and nobody ever would again."

Wynston stood, took a quick step, and knelt before her, setting his hands on either cheek and turning her face to face his. He studied her eyes, the natural one, the artificial one. "You are a beautiful woman," he said fiercely. "And a strong one, to have made it this far. And brilliant to boot. And I know you don't need me to tell you any of this, because you're already very much in charge of your own life, but you're amazing. Never let anyone tell you anything less."

She smiled, gently, steadily. Then without a word she stood and led him to the bed, where she pillowed his head with one arm and wrapped the other around him. For a little while he just wondered at her and at the long slow recoveries he never saw when he was dashing in and out of people's lives. The pain that, while it was unique for every person, wasn't quite as unique as he thought when he was alone.

"It wasn't your fault," she said at length.

"What wasn't?"

"Kaliyo. I don't know what she told you or what she did…"

"She told me I was an idiot. She was right."

"Even smart people can fall. It wasn't your fault."

"I should have stopped her."

"You can't own somebody, control their every move. I don't think you really want to be the kind of person who tries."

If only she knew. She was right about him, but… "You don't know how dangerous she was. Someone had to stop her."

"Maybe you were too close. Maybe it has to be someone else."

Anger stabbed at him. "I don't trust 'someone else.'"

"You–"

"No. That's what I do. I take the shot. I clean up the mess. That's my job. It's my job! What the hell am I if I can't do that?"

She hugged him a little closer. "A man?"

"That's not good enough."

It hung in the silence above them, bitter and furious and, so far as Wynston could feel, true.

"I would kill for a drink right now," he added miserably.

"We learn to do other things when that desire comes up. Like talk to someone we trust."

"And I trust you…?" There was a strange thought. He stared at the side of her neck to avoid her eyes. Was it just fatigue from the strain that had dragged him here to her ministrations? Then again, did it matter, so long as he was here?

"I won't tell anyone," she said quietly. "Any of this. It’s between you and me. Will…you do the same?"

"Yes. Of course."

"All right." She shifted and kissed his forehead. "Can I tell you something else personal?"

"What's that?"

"You're good enough. You’re a good man. You are strong and brave, you'll be ready if the crisis comes up again…and life goes on. Even after a bad love. Even after a really, really bad love."

They were silent for a little while.

It was Wynston who spoke next. "I haven't spilled this much of my guts in one place since...well. Geonosis, years ago. I was in kolto for a month and a half."

"I'm afraid I'm fresh out of kolto," she said. "How much are hugs good for?"

He couldn’t help but smile. "They'll do. But only because they're yours."

They stayed awake for a while longer, sometimes speaking in hushed voices, exchanging memories and regrets, and sometimes just giving each other space to process the immensity of themselves. It was, he realized, the first conversation that had moved him since he’d returned to this planet. He kissed her then, half to reassure himself that she was the same woman he’d been talking to all this time, not really transformed, just opened a little, every bit as strong today as she was in facing these past crises. If he could believe it of her he could believe it of himself. He kissed her, and they talked for a while longer before the time came for sleep.

I realize that it’s tremendously problematic to try to make a point-for-point argument for Kaliyo as classic domestic abuser; I wanted instead to focus on the feelings after the fact, guilt foremost among them.

Merok moved through the dance hall, feeling incredibly awkward dressed in street clothes better suited for adolescents trying to make a statement. He felt stupid, very stupid. But he just had to be here. He and his new "Investigation Service" had taken on a case for a Nar Shaddaa official–meaning a Hutt–to infiltrate a gang of anti-Hutt terrorists. Wasn't Merok's favorite job, in fact he'd rather be helping bring down the Hutts, but he had to pay the electricity bill for the safehouse.

Merok scratched at his chin. The prosthetic makeup that made him look human itched, and so did the contacts that made his eyes look like a human's. Luckily he hadn't needed hair dye; his jet black hair was fitting enough for his disguise.

Raina and Kaliyo, dressed in leather pants and tight, waist-length vests, sat at a table across the room. Merok nodded to them covertly. No matter how hard he tried, Lokin wouldn't fit in here, nor would Scorpio, so they'd been given surveillance duty and were currently on a rooftop across the street with macrobinoculars and sniper rifles. Vector was dressed as a bouncer, standing back against the wall with a stun baton that wouldn't harm anything larger than a k'lor'slug.

Music started up and Merok began dancing. He had never liked to dance, but he had been told he was exceptionally good at it. He moved with the rhythm, swinging his arms and legs in perfect arcs. Soon a group had gathered around him and was cheering him on. He felt stupid doing this. Raina must've seen his embarrassment.

"It's just a job," she said into his earbud comlink.

He finished his dance, bowed cockily, and moved over to the bar. He ordered a non-alcoholic drink–best to stay sober if he was going to be infiltrating a terrorist group–and took a seat. It wasn't long before a burly man, the bouncer that had guarded the door across from Vector, approached him. Merok had arranged to meet the man here, saying he wanted into the terrorist group.

"I hear you hate the Hutts," the bouncer said.

Merok grinned. Finally, some progress. With any luck, he'd never have to dance again.

Merok's a very conservative person; normally he'd never dance in public. In fact, he probably wouldn't dance in private.

Dha sighed and paced through the living room. Mako sat on the couch, and baby Crysta toddled by happily, chased by her Uncle Blizz. Dha smiled down at his daughter and then turned back to Mako.

"I don't know," he said, "how this happened."

"We hardly have enough money for food!" Mako exclaimed. "You're the richest bounty hunter in the entire galaxy and you mean to tell me you can't find a bounty?"

"Maybe no one's mad at anyone?" Dha suggested glibly.

"Don't get smart with me!" Mako snapped. "We are tight on money, go out and find a job!"

"I will!" he exclaimed. "I'm just waiting for a contact!"

She sighed. "Still, what do we do in the meantime?"

Dha shook his head and sat down beside Mako. He put his arm around her and pulled her in close. She snuggled up against him, and he kissed her forehead lovingly.

"We have a couple roba," he said. "Maybe it's time to butcher one."

She frowned. "But they're so cute."

He frowned. "I'm not talking the babies, Mako, I'm talking the ugly bull."

She sighed. "Okay..."

He stood. "I'll find a lower-level bounty while I wait for my contact to come through on the Black List bounty. Either way I'll bring in some money."

"You're going alone?"

"I'll take Torian with me," he said. "Take care of Crysta. Love you, honey."

* * *

While Dha was out taking a low-level bounty, one worth only a measly five thousand credits, he got a call from his contact, supplying him with information about the Black List bounty. Dha took Torian and dealt with it swiftly and precisely. He came home to Mandalore with seven hundred fifty thousand, five hundred credits.

They feasted.

Everyone has a slow day, eh?

@Yoshi: Pierce/Kaliyo hook up? Is there a fund big enough for the next morning's repair bill? And I gotta tell you, LOVED what you did with That Awkward Moment. Never know who you're gonna run into. Enjoying the Merok stuff, keep it coming!

The BH piece was a nice touch too, especially if you followed the Mako romance to it's conclusion. Uncle Blizz, HAH!

@Bright: I like Wynston, buuuut.... Fixer 34 is quickly edging him out of that top spot in your stories. Just sayin' As always, great great work.

@Adwynyth:

"See that table over there? I--"

 

"Never mind. I don't want to know."

Niiiiice. I can see Mako waving her hands in front of her. Good piece and a new favorite line to add to my collection (you know the one. Everyone else loves it too )

@Everstream: I've yet to get to the end of the Smuggler storyline, but have finished the BH. I like how you tied the two stories together. It works pretty dang well.

@Leonara: Awesome. There's a Superman comic from years and years ago (1987-88, i think), where in order to save everything he loves and holds dear, Superman is forced to take a life for the first time. It changes him, and he exiles himself in fear of this change.

Your story reminds me of that one, in the sense that you spend all this time saving/redeeming/capturing people based your teachings, what happens to your beliefs when you have to contradict them for the greater good? Can you live with the guilt, even if it's the right thing to do? Do tacos taste better with red or green sauce? All important questions to consider.

@Lesaberisa:

After a pause, the comm beeped.

 

“Jedi, I can help you with that.” Tharan’s voice had never been more irritating.

Thank you for making me spit limeade all over my monitor.

For a change, there was nothing to do.

They were waiting for a holo from Torian for the next lead on Jicoln, Darth Gravus seemed to have run out of Republic soldiers and settlers to kill for the moment, and nobody else was standing around waiting for a savior.

They actually had time to look up at the sky and daydream. On the ship, of course.

No way were they crazy enough to lay on the grass outside anywhere on Taris. Even the middle of an Imperial base was relatively dangerous.

No, Swaindrix had found a hangar on-planet for the ship, thanks to a hefty bribe brokered by Tyr--er--Gault. After chasing the Devaronian across the Tatooine deserts for more than a month, he still occasionally slipped and used his old name. Of course, half the time he just did it to hear Mako's laugh at the look of panic on Gault's face. There were few things he wouldn't do to hear Mako's laugh...

So here they were, looking up through the open top hatch of the ship, lying on the deck of the cargo bay, daydreaming about the winning share of the cash prize that would be awarded for winning the Great Hunt. Swaindrix had already promised equal shares to everyone involved, so there was a lot of money to each person to daydream about.

Swaindrix was first. "I'm going back to that smug bastard on Tatooine and buying those twin C202s I was looking at when he laughed me out of his shop. I wanna see the look on his face."

"Yeah, I'm surprised you didn't kill him on the spot," Mako quipped. The silence to her left made her look over to see the slight smirk the hunter was wearing. "That's what you're planning to do with those blasters after you buy them, isn't it?"

"You know me so well. What are you gonna do, Mako?"

"I think I'm going to hire the most discreet spy ever to figure out some of this SIS stuff for me. I really want to know who put these implants in me and why." A muffled guffaw off to her right drew a dirty look from the young slicer. "Care to repeat that?"

Gault smiled smugly and repeated "Bo-o-o-oring. You two think so small. I have much better plans for my money."

Swaindrix took up the gauntlet. "Oh yeah? Spill, so we can be inspired, O brilliant financier who happens to have spent all his money."

Mako chimed in, half-laughing. "Yes, do enlighten us, Mr. Broke Tycoon!"

"I'm going to set aside part of it to start a private investigative agency that specializes in kidnapping cases."

Mako and Swaindrix just looked at each other. The former took the bait first. "Okay, that sounds too above-board and legit for you. What's your angle, Gault?"

The Devaronian smiled more widely and closed his eyes. "I'm going to set aside another part of it to start a kidnapping ring to feed them business."

Swaindrix simply cracked up, laughing loudly, drowning out any attempt by Mako to berate Gault for such a brazenly twisted idea.

After making sure nobody was around to snoop, I opened my mail to see if I had any good leads from HoloHarmony. Bunch of nobodies and fools, like usual, and I was about ready to call it a night when I noticed a high priority message from a user named “IHAVEABIGGUN”.

I snorted, typical male posturing and immaturity in a single package. Still, I decided to open it for some laughs.

GR8HUNTER,

I read your profile. Sounds intriguing. Send me a holo. I’m a military man, with a fine taste in ordinance. My schedule is tight, and my CO’s a bit crazy, but I’d like to meet.

Aric Jorgan

Better prospect than I had expected. I began typing my reply.

“Darlin’, I’m moving some credits out of the main account to the ranch account, just for a few days,” Corso said, a slight scowl on his handsome face. He waited for Miriah’s response, figuring she’d be irritated with him.

“Whatever,“ she told him, concentrating on reading her datapad. She never really worried about credits anymore, she’d made plenty in her smuggling career and they continued to pull in more through wise investments, The Port, and the company they’d started. Usually the ranch more than paid for itself, but she wasn’t worried and figured Corso knew what he needed.

“Whatcha reading?” he asked her, moving to sit with her on the sofa.

“This article about a charity that has taken on feeding children on starving worlds. Evidently the founder, who has managed to remain anonymous for several years now, had been inundated with requests from various galaxies for help, and has had to start asking for corporate donors.” She looked up from the datapad to see Corso looking away, not wanting to meet her eyes. “That sounds like something we might want to donate to, right? Maybe with some ronto, or bantha?”

Corso turned to look at her then. “Yeah, we can do that. Since the last breeding season we have more bantha than we can really sell or eat ourselves. We should be getting paid soon for that last two hundred head we sent to market last week.” He stood, ready to get started for the day, and pulled Miriah to him for a kiss.

Miriah watched as he crossed the back yard to the first barn, and went into his office in the house to charge her datapad. As she turned to leave, she saw a letter with the name of the very charity she’d just been talking about. Looking around her, she slipped the letter out of the other things on the desk and had to sit in the nearby chair as she read.

“Dear Mr. Riggs,

We can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for us here at the orphanage. I know we agreed on nondisclosure when we first made our alliance, but I couldn’t help but send our eternal gratitude to you and your organization.

You’ve managed to feed us for several years now, but in donating the new freezer, you’ve ensured that we can provide healthy meals for years to come.

Please accept our gratitude and know that you are instrumental in the survival of so many children.

Sincerely,

Rita Zon

Director, Nar Shaddaa Children’s Home”

She wiped a tear that had tracked down her face, and put the letter carefully back in the stack of papers on the desk. When Corso returned to the house for lunch, she met him with a tight hug, holding onto him for an extra few seconds.

“Not that I mind, but is something wrong, love?” he asked her, looking at her with concern.

“Nothing, sugar,” she told him, smiling. “Nothing wrong at all.”

AHA! *pounce*

 

*tugs on sleeve* 'Scuse me...I think you dropped this.

 

*hands you box, you can't help but open it*

Crud, you caught me. And eeee box of squeeeee.

@Irish: Okay, I have to admit, I laughed pretty hard. He never shows up at a decent time

Kallig has the worst timing ever. Then he yells at you. He’s really annoying.

@Irishfino, Yay, more stuff! Poor Gelt, talk about unwelcome guests, yeesh!

Kallig is always barging in on people. Gelt also sleeps naked so… eehee, hope he got an eyeful. Then again, that might be how he came up with that list. <.< Never know with Kallig.

eeeeee, fino! Welcome back! Kallig the alarm clock is a hilarious image.

It feels good to be back . I should draw the Kallig alarm clock. Being smashed into a wall. By a very angry Forcewalker… eeheee.

@Irishfino: Yay!! Welcome back, and seriously, what is it with parents, grandparents, or in this case, the ghost of an ancestor, and the drive to make the younger generation have babies?! I swear, my hubby and I had only been married for an hour when his grandmother was asking when we were going to have a baby!!!!

Thanks! ! And my grandmother has already asked when my husband and I are going to have another baby. Not any time soon, lady. Not any time soon.

@ Irish: Welcome back! I doubt anyone wants a spectral matchmaker, Geltie least of all.

Thank you ! And, yes, Geltie really isn’t in the market for anything right now let alone a woman to impregnate. Kallig is all kinds of terrible with timing, lol.

@irishfino: I was giggling for at least 10 mins, and I will be giggling through every appearance of Kallig when playing my male Inqui.

Eeheee, there’s a specific scene in the SI line that inspired this. You’ll know it when you see it. And you’ll have a huge giggle fit.

Thanks for reading everyone !!

“What would I buy with a few million creds?” Ucles asked, repeating the question his dumb associate asked him. He knew what he would buy or, rather, who. “That depends, how much we talkin’?”

“Enough to buy your most treasured thing!” the other man practically squealed. He was drunk. He had to be. Which was bad because he got handsy when he was drunk. Nothin’ like a good ol’ fashioned groping to sober you up. Ucles shuddered faintly at the thought.

“Well, my wife’s dead, so I can’t buy her, but, uh, there is one thing she left me that I ended up losing when my home was ransacked by a group of a*sholes.” He finished off his pint of ale. “I’d pay anything for that.”

“Still pretty sweet on your wife, eh?”

Ucles sighed. “Look, guy, I ain’t interested, alright?”

The other man laughed. “You ain’t that pretty. Anyway, I think it’s kinda sweet you’re still stuck on her. You gotta work on movin’ on though. No sense in hangin’ on to a dead chick’s t*ts.”

“I’ll give you a pass today because you’re drunk,” Ucles slammed his glass onto the table and stood. “Say that to me again and I’ll kill you.”

Ucles took one last look at the man’s dumb expression before leaving. If he wasn’t Scro’s brother, he would have shot him dead right then. As it was, the coward would go running to Scro, tell him what Ucles did, and be surprised that Scro didn’t care. It always amazed him how people could convince themselves that a man who bought child slaves to fight for money cared for his family. To Ucles, the ones who fought for money were the lucky ones. He’d seen the sh*t Scro did to the girls. Even put one out of her misery. It sickened him to no end.

If he had the damn money, he and his son would be gone. But, at this rate, he’d never have the damn money. Kid never lost a fight; which was good, meant he lived to see another day and Ucles scraped in a few hundred credits to go into the savings he had squirreled away. But it was bad because the kid’s buyout price would keep going up. He felt useless. He had to watch the things Scro did, terrible things, and not do a damn thing else he lose his job and his one means of helping his son. He hated himself a little more every day.

As long as his son came out of it in one piece, it didn’t matter if Ucles could never face himself in the mirror again. It didn’t matter if Ucles dove head first into addiction to help cope with the sh*t he had to deal with. All that mattered was that his son was free. What was his life compared to his son’s? Nothing.

Geltie didn’t have the luxury of drowning his woes in alcohol. He did have his assigned partner, his “stress relief.” He didn’t view her as such. He never wanted to. Through the fights, the injuries, the recovery, he never once took out his anger on her. He saved it. He kept it inside and used it to fuel himself during the fights. It had worked so far, but, tonight of all nights, he fell ill. She tended to him with shaking hands and he was happy for the comfort. She had opened up to him little by little when she came to realize that he wasn’t like the others. He didn’t desire her that way. He didn’t want to dominate her. He wanted her to be herself. Even in the confines of this horrid place, he wanted her to feel at home with him.

She regretted what she had done the moment he started vomiting.

“I have a question,” she started quietly.

“Mm?” he murmured softly.

She looked at him and took in his flushed face, the sweat dripping down his forehead, and his half open eyes.

“If you had a lot of credits… what would you do?” she finished quietly.

“Buy your freedom,” he replied without hesitation. “You want to be an artist, don’t you? Artist’s only need to be slaves to their dream, not to men like Scro.”

Her heart sank in her chest. “That won’t happen,” she said. Her throat constricted with tears as she continued, “I – I poisoned your meal. You’re – you’ll die soon.”

He smiled at her. “It’s alright.”

She shook her head, but said nothing. It wasn’t the first time he had been poisoned in this place. It wouldn’t be the last. It hurt. Not just the poison as it coursed its way through his bloodstream, destroying tissue and platelets, but the fact that they had used her. Of all the people in this place, from the cook to the person who gathered the ingredients for the food, they used her. He’d see this place burned to the ground and Scro screaming for his life if he had his way.

And he would. As long as he held onto this hate inside him and focused it into the fine edge of a blade. He’d strike Scro, free the others, and leave this place. Until that day, he would comfort his would be assassin.

He loved her.

Aaran and Tate stopped short of entering the hangar holding the public transport ship that would take them off Alderaan, possibly forever. Aaran sighed, looked back at House Organa, and nodded. He'd loved it here, but his time had come. He had to leave. He patted Tate on the head.

"Well, little guy," he said, "we got everything packed?"

Everything = aboard the ship, Tate confirmed. Speeder bike = cost extra // Tate = had to sell the last of the cooking fuel.

"Not like we'll need it anymore," muttered Aaran. "Come on, let's get aboard."

They entered the transport and took their places in the takeoff compartment. The other passengers milled around, taking seats where there was room. Aaran had put a tan poncho over his Jedi robes to conceal his status, but he felt terribly out of place anyways.

After a few announcements from the ship captain, the massive transport began lifting off. Aaran made his way to the viewport and looked down at the planet below, the last view he might ever have of the place that had been, for so many years, his home.

* * *

After the hyperspace jump the passengers were allowed to return to the sleeping quarters. Unfortunately on a ship like this, "sleeping quarters" were long, narrow rooms with bunks built into the wall every three feet, stacked two high, with a sliding glass door and curtain for privacy. There were never enough bunks for all the passengers so blankets were laid out on the floor for passengers to sleep on.

Tate rolled up beside Aaran's bunk and slid his small suitcase onto it. Aaran patted the droid on the head and sat down beside the bunk. There were aliens crowding through the sleeping halls; Rodians, Weequays, and even Duros, species that were common throughout the galaxy but Aaran had seldom seen on Alderaan. It fascinated him.

Closing his eyes, he began meditating, reveling in the unusual but wonderful feelings in the Force around him.

You don't really see many aliens on Alderaan, especially once you leave House Thul and Organa.

@Eversteam, Suspense!! Oh, I feel for Corso being kept out of the rubble, and the snarky folks outside wouldn’t make that situation any easier to handle. And I love this, sort of sad and lovely at the same time:

'When things pass we don't always notice straight away. We delude ourselves to thinking they are still there but even then that illusion has to fail.'

@Leonara, I think that decision would be something the Knight would struggle with afterward, especially with regards to the feeling of power he would have. It would be hard not to come away feeling superior after defeating someone so powerful.

@Bright, Continued love for Wynston-34. I like that he’s to the point where he’s trusting someone with so much of his past, that he’s able to admit that he’s worried he won’t be able to do the things he has to do.

@Adwynyth, I loved pretty much everything coming out of Swaindrix’s mouth in Failure, and Gault’s plan is kinda genius. Just now got him on my BH, and I like him already.

@Magdalane, Aww, so sweet! Melting as we speak

@Lesaberisa,

- @ Marissalf; you're officially back in my good graces for your Vector pieces

Woo! I think Kinka and Wynston could start their own “damaged agents of the Empire club.”

I got a kick out of the HoloHarmony profiles! Jorgan’s screen name - hilarious, and I liked the consular snark.

@Irishfino, Ucles and Geltie are like a one-two punch in the feels, but it’s a good hurt. And,

It always amazed him how people could convince themselves that a man who bought child slaves to fight for money cared for his family.

A very accurate observation. For enough credits, those kinds of people would sell their own mothers.

@Yoshi, Aaran leaving Alderaan is so bittersweet. He’s forced to leave his home, but making a new start can sometimes be for the best.

We’ll find a way someday, my sweet

A time for joy and laughter

And if we lose our way and part

We’ll meet in the hereafter

Melodai snapped the locket shut, careful not to draw too much attention to the invaluable trinket. There were two dozen haggard patrons throwing back drinks at the Poison Pit, and any one of them would find the temptation of a shiny piece of actual gold too much to pass up. It’d be a shame to spill so much blood before she’d even finished her drink.

Her father had given the locket to her mother years ago, and now it was the only tangible evidence left of a happy childhood and two loving parents. It had been four years on her own, but the longing for home had yet to subside. The locket, delicately inscribed and inlaid with some kind of brilliant stone, was her last link to that life. As long as it hung around her neck, she still had a piece of them with her. She rubbed it affectionately one more time and hid it in her shirt as Mako plopped down across from her.

“So, how did you become a bounty hunter anyway? You’re a lot prettier than a lot of the ones I’ve met, and a lot classier, too. If you don’t mind me asking, that is.” Mako was quick with the questions. A little too perky for her own good, too, but she was nice enough. It would be rude not to play along for a little while.

“My parents died when I was young. Friend of the family took me in. She wasn’t really the nurturing, stay at home and bake cookies type. More of the 'here’s a blaster, learn how to use it' type. By the time I turned 15, I’d snagged my first bounty.”

Mako frowned over her drink. “That must have been hard. I’m sorry about your parents.” She paused, as if trying to decide whether she wanted to share. “I know what it’s like to be on your own.”

Mel shrugged, oblivious to the opening that would have let her bend the subject back toward Mako and pry into her personal life for a while. “It is what it is. They were good people, what I remember of them. But they lived dangerous lives, and eventually that kind of stuff catches up to you,” she concluded with a knowing smile.

“What did they do?”

Mel fought the urge to sigh. Mako and her million questions. Anybody else would’ve gotten a punch in the face for being so nosy, but the girl was sweet, and she meant well. Just humor her a little longer.

“Not sure exactly. Some kind of government work. I was too young to really pay attention to the particulars, but it was the kind of stuff that earns you invites to fancy parties on Dromund Kaas.”

“Wow.” Mako cocked her head to the side. “Funny, you don’t sound like some high born Imperial. I would have expected more of an accent.”

“I hide it most of the time. Mom taught me that. She was good with accents.”

“Do you miss them?”

Mel tried not to think of that. Part of why she’d become a bounty hunter was to run. She needed distance from the sadness, and running around the galaxy, dodging peril at every turn, seemed the best way to go. She didn’t want to be rude to the kid, not at all, but she couldn’t answer the question, not without tearing up. And she didn’t know the girl nearly well enough for that.

She felt herself smile, the movement shaky, more a tremble than a pleasant expression. What was it about this awful planet that made her long for that feeling of home? Rather than indulge Mako further, Mel threw back the rest of her drink and headed off without a word to find her bunk. Tomorrow would be another long day; dwelling on old wounds would only lead to new ones.

Not all of the story she told Mako had been true, but the girl didn’t need to know that. Only one of her parents had died that chilly night just before her thirteenth birthday, but she lost both of them just the same. The memory of the old man rushing in in the middle of the night was burned in her memory. She had watched from behind the sofa as he told her aunt that Mel’s father was dead and that her mother had disappeared. She spent the first year holding out hope that she’d return. It was a fool’s hope. Whatever happened, one thing was clear — her mother wasn’t coming back.

Mel clicked on the light at her bedside and pulled the locket out from under her shirt. She carefully pried it open, gazing longingly at the happy image, and reread the inscription. She didn’t know what this hereafter was that it mentioned, if it was anything other than a lovely-sounding sentiment. But she hoped more than anything that they found it together.

The three were sitting in the lounge of the ship. enjoying the freshly stocked bar, courtesy of the Imperial Diplomatic Corp of Nar Shadda... or at least it would've been courtesy of the Imperial Diplomatic Corp, if they even knew it was gone.

Ro'lynd was pretty sure they would've been honored to have given him these gifts, if they knew him... buuuuut that was a lot of trouble, so why bother?

Just cut out the formalities and get to the drinkin',I always say!

He lifted his shot of some of the smoothest Corellian whiskey he'd ever had, "A toast! To our new friend, and shipmate (and bare knuckle boxing ringer) Bowdaar!"

Next to Ro'lynd, the Wookie howled in appreciation. Behind the bar Corso slammed his drink, and then his shot glass. "Hear, hear! I tell you Capt., things are looking up! We got your ship back, we've got Skavik on the run, we're in business!!"

"That, Corso my boy, deserves another toast!", Ro'lynd pushed his shot glass towards Corso.

"Before that Capt., I have a serious question."

Bowdarr huffed.

Ro'lynd arched his brow, "Sure, Riggs, what's the problem?"

"I know you 'appropriated' the 3 boxes of liquor, but what the hell is this?" From behind the bar, Corso lifted up a lidless metal pot covered in plastic and set it on the bar.

Ro'lynd looked at it for a second, "Was that in one of the boxes?"

"Yeah, with some Alderaanian wines."

"You lifted the plastic yet? Looked inside?"

Bowdarr sniffed at the pot, "rulff"

"Cheese. Gotta be about a hundred little blocks of cheese in there."

"Oh, well that's easy then. Y'know, it's for... a... ceremony! Yeah, probably a wedding. See, in Alderaanian custom..."

Bowdarr rolled his eyes

"...the bride brings a bunch of little cheeses to throw out to the assembled crowd as gifts--"

"It's called a fondue pot," Risha butted in from the lounge entrance, "and really? Throwing cheese at a wedding? That's the best you can come up with? I'm disappointed, really."

Ro'lynd looked at Risha as she walked down the steps and into the lounge, "Ok, Ms. Smartpants. What's it for?"

Risha's mouth curled into a half smile, "Alderaan nobility uses it to melt the various cheeses and then they dip finger foods into it. It only happens at the types of parties you don't attend, Captain."

Risha picked up a bottle of wine. "Hmmm, good vintage. Oh, the droid has been trying to contact you. We're about to land on Coruscant."

Corso's eyes lit up "The Smuggler's Den! Oh, Capt. we've gotta take Bowdarr to meet Darmas. He'll love it"

Bowdarr looked hesitant and growled a low growl of disapproval.

"Don't worry about a thing, buddy." Rol'lynd stood up and slapped Bowdarr on the shoulder, "We gotcha covered. Corso, there's still an unopened case over there, right?"

"Yeah, I see the one. Why, Capt.?"

"I owe Darmas Pollaran for helping me get the ship back. If we're going to celebrate, it's only fair we bring a little gift for our sabaac loving friend."

Ro'lynd turned and looked at Risha as she walked out with a glass of wine. "Risha, you're more than welcome to come along", he said with a hint of flirtatiousness in his voice.

She turned around, "As much as I would love to see you boys crash and burn with the ladies, I have research to do. Have fun though, and take some advice? The Wookie will not be a good wingman." and then she walked out

"Ok Capt., gotta go get ready" As Corso walked down the hall, Ro'lynd could heard him talking to himself, "... because the ladies love the 'Big Riggs', aaaaaalll riiiiight."

Ro'lynd turned to Bowdarr, "Well, we'd better get ready too. So... what do you do for that? Do I need to help you brush out your coat or something?"

Bowdaar looked at Ro'lynd in disbelief for a second, and then shook his head and walked out.

"What?"

*********************************************************************

"I'm telling you Corso, this is genius! I'm Chiss, so I'm exotic and women love exotic! Women also love Wookies! With Bowdarr as my wingman, I can't lose!"

Bowdarr growled and huffed in disagreement.

"Of course I'm serious! Bowdarr, trust me. I know the ladies."

Corso looked at Ro'lynd skeptically, "Uh huh. Remember Taris?"

Bowdarr laughed.

"That was just playing around. I wasn't serious!"

"Nar Shadda?"

"... I was worried about my ship!"

"Last time we were on Coruscant?"

"How was I to know she had a husband?!"

"She didn't."

"Of course she did! She told me after... wait, how do you know?"

"Remember how I didn't come back to the ship that night? Trust me, she didn't."

Bowdarr laughed again.

Ro'lynd poked Corso in the chest "I don't have to take that from a guy who's best line is 'I have the tools AND the talent'! C'mon Bowdarr!" Ro'lynd stomped off into the crowd

Bowdarr shrugged and shook his head at Corso.

Corso raised his voice to be heard over the crowd, "Let me know how it goes Capt.!" He laughed.

It didn't go well.

"I don't know how it could not have worked?!" Ro'lynd looked at Bowdarr in confusion. "I mean the plan was perfect!" They were sitting at a table in the corner, watching Corso put the moves on three different women at once.

"... and then I said 'Now you're dumb, ugly, AND dead!'..."

Ro'lynd looked on in awe. "How? How does he do that? I mean it's bad enough he actually yells that stuff out in a fight. Half the time, I want to shoot him 'cause he won't shut up!"

Bowdarr laughed under his breath, making a weird noise. "Raaaawr schuff huff grrrrar."

"How do you know what women want, furball? Drink your drink." he said with a scowl.

"I see you've lowered your standards in dating a bit." the voice came from behind Ro'lynd. He turned and saw a Chiss female, dressed in a Jedi outfit that bared her midriff, walking up to the table.

"Hey! Sis! How'd you know I was here?" Ro'lynd stood up and gave her a hug. "Have a seat. Get you a drink?"

She sat down across from Bowdarr. "You're always here when you're in town, and no thanks. I have to leave when T-7 says the ship is prepped. I saw our ship in the docks and thought I'd stop by. It may be awhile before we get to see each other again."

"Big Jedi mission? Saving the galaxy from the wretched hives of scum and villainy?"

"Something like that. So judging from the feelings of frustration coming off you, I believe there's a story. Care to share? And maybe to introduce me to your friend here?" She motioned to Bowdarr.

"Oh! Right! Meet the newest crew member of the smugg--er, acquisitions and delivery vessel, G.T.F.O., Bowdarr! We just picked him up on Nar Shadda. Bowdarr, this is my esteemed and renowned sister, Satele Shan, of the Force-Shan cookie lineage. She writes all the cool little messages in the cookies."

Ro'lynd's sister slugged him in the arm, "Can't you ever be serious?"

Bowdar snorted a laugh.

"Hello Bowdarr, my name is Yang'chi, Jedi Knight, and I have nothing to do with those awful cookies that exploit the Order." She bowed. Bowdarr stood and did the same.

Ro'lynd rubbed his arm, "You're just jealous you didn't think of them first. Hell, I know I am!"

"Honestly Ro'lynd, all you ever think about is credits. Now, when I came over here, the mood was a bit less light. What happened?"

"Uhhh, nothing. Nothing at all, just lost a game of sabaac is all."

Bowdarr snorted again, this time disapprovingly. Ro'lynd shot him a look that said shut uuuuup!

Yang'chi smirked "Let me use my incredible Jedi powers to look into your mind." She clasped her hands together in front of her, bowed her head in concentration, and was silent for a minute.

"I see a plan. To use the Wookie to pick up girls... but it all goes wrong... yes, a cheesy, classless pick up line... you ask a young lady if she's tired... she says 'No, why?'... and then something about 'because you've been running through my mind all night'..."

Yang'chi stopped and looked up at her brother, "Is that about right?"

Bowdarr crossed his arms, sighed, and nodded.

Ro'lynd's mouth dropped open. "I... bu... how did... get out of my head!!" He looked horrified. "I didn't know you can do that?!"

She burst out in laughter. "Man, Kira was right. You people will believe anything about the Jedi! Relax, I can't read your mind."

"Wait, then how'd you know..." He asked, puzzled.

"Because you, oniis'an, constantly get into trouble with those get rich quick schemes that you try to hide from me. I've had to learn to read you, and unfortunately for you, you're very easy to read." Yang'chi leaned over and kissed his cheek.

Bowdarr grunted and growled. "Graaaaawr ruulf wooff raaawr"

Yang'chi looked a Bowdarr. "Exactly. Be yourself! It's why Corso is so successful." They all looked over at Corso, who was on the dance floor surrounded by women.

Then she glanced at a young lady approaching the table. She was well built, with short reddish brown hair, and wearing a sleek Jedi top and skirt. "Ok, here's a perfect test. Try to pick up on her."

"Imou'to, she's a Jedi. Don't you guys, like, eschew dating and all that?"

"Ro'lynd. Do it." Yang'chi got a stern look on her face. "And be yourself!"

As the young lady walked up, Ro'lynd stood and nervously approached her.

"Hi, I was wondering...erm...well, what I meant was... I was thinking....uhhhh..."

Abort! Abort!

"...Is that a Jedi in your pocket, because your a*s is kickin'!" Ro'lynd tried to sound suave.

Bowdarr face-palmed. Yang'chi covered her mouth to hide the laughter.

The young lady stopped as a confused look flashed across her face, then said "Hold on a sec, let me check."

She reached into her pocket, fumbled around a second, and then spin kicked Ro'lynd, knocking him down. "Huh, whatd'ya know. There was a Jedi in my pocket after all."

The young lady then looked at Yang'chi "Ship'll be ready by the time we get back to the hanger, boss. I came to get you."

Between the snorts and the laughter, Yang'chi managed to get out "Thank you, Kira. Give me a minute." She helped Ro'lynd up, still giggling.

"You'll need to work on that a bit. Stay safe, oniis'an, I don't know when I'll see you again." She kissed his forehead.

She looked at Bowdarr, "Watch out for my brother, Bowdarr. He can be a handful, so please, keep him safe while I'm gone."

Bowdarr smiled. "Grawwwwwwr!"

Ro'lynd watched Yang'chi and Kira walk out of the Smuggler's Den.

"That was my best line, too..."

Ro'lynd held the bag of ice to the side of his face as he nursed his drink. On the dance floor, Corso seemed to have picked his choice of the women and was slow dancing with her to one of the many pop-chart hits they played on the weekends. Bowdarr sat to the side of Ro'lynd, watching him.

"What? I have something on my face? Did she scar me?!" Ro'lynd nervously started feeling his jaw.

"Huff rollf grrrolf raaaaawrgggg"

"Yeah, she's something all right. She's a good kid. She'll make a great Jedi Master." Ro'lynd said with some nostalgia.

"Raaaaaaaaawlf hulf hulf grawwwggg ruff"

"She said 'our ship' because we lived there for a good while. So it's pretty much our home... well, before she went to the Jedi Academy."

"Raaaaaaawwwwwgg"

"How'd we get it?" Ro'lynd looked at the Wookie for a second, then nursed a bit of his whiskey.

"Well, that's a story...", Ro'lynd thought for another second.

"Look, I'll tell you, but you have to promise it stays between you and me. Opening up isn't something I do a lot of... for some reason though, I feel like telling it today."

Ro'lynd lowered the ice pack and swished his drink around for a bit. "We weren't born here. We were born in the Ascendancy. Our father was a member of one of the four great houses. Not a big deal really, almost everyone is, but they treat it like it's a big deal. Doesn't make a lot of sense when you think about it..."

He leaned forward on the table. "Yang'chi, she was force sensitive from a young age. Our mother tried to hide it, but eventually our father found out. He wanted to send her to the Sith, earn some big cred with the Empire..."

Ro'lynd's brow furrowed, "... I'd heard stories. Bad ones. I was 14 at the time. Already an adult by Chiss standards, but she was still my kid sister, y'know? I couldn't let that happen, couldn't let her go through that."

"Rrraaaaaaawwulf"

"Heh, yeah. I was somewhat of an outcast in Chiss society. Didn't hold to the 'respect the badge' mentality. So, anyway, one night, we were doing a tour with my Father, out in the CEDF (Chiss Expansionary/Defensive Fleet). They had caught a ship in their territory, so they impounded it. Pretty standard stuff for the CEDF."

"When everyone went to sleep, I woke up Yang'chi, and snuck onto the ship. We used some of her growing abilities to help us out, and my street smarts to do the rest. Then I fired up the ship and did a quick jump out of there. Not as easy as it sounds, mind you.."

Ro'lynd took a long pull and ended his drink." When we got here, to the Republic, we found out it wasn't as wonderful as the holos make it sound. The streets may have been paved in gold, but you had to pay for the privilege of walking on them."

"I couldn't find any work... I was Chiss, y'know? And only 14 by human standards. So I started finding 'opportunities' with less than reputable employers...."

"At the time, I wasn't proud, but it put food on the table and paid the spaceport fees, right? I decided that I'd do just about anything to make it big, to be rich... anything to make sure imou'to was taken care of..." Ro'lynd's voice trailed off in memory.

"Raarff"

"Huh? Oh, right. So we lived like that for a few years until I could get her here, and find a way into the Jedi Academy. We snuck into the senate building (as aloof as some those senators are, it wasn't hard to look like we were pages or something), and I walked up to the first Jedi I saw and started talking..."

"We got escorted out of course, but not too long after that, some Jedi came by the ship. Yang'chi cried and cried, and I didn't see her again until Corso and I came here looking for Skavik. By then, I had saved a decent amount of credits, but they were tied up in the ship. Man, had she changed, though! Grown. She's a Jedi Knight now, y'know? She doesn't need her 'oniis'an' to protect her anymore..."

Ro'lynd trailed off again, looking into his empty glass, and this time Bowdarr waited patiently.

"Ok, that's enough of that! we're here to celebrate!" Ro'lynd perked up.

Bowdarr huffed.

"What? No, I'm fine!" he smiled a superficial smile. Then looked around the bar.

"Hey, where'd Corso go?"

*************************************************************

Ro'lynd sat in the cockpit in just a pair of pants. He and Bowdarr had returned hours ago and headed to their beds. Then an about an hour ago, Corso came home... with a friend.

Ro'lynd was awakened by the passionate moans from the med bay, that rang throughout the ship. He tried turning on music. He tried pulling a pillow over his head. He had tried to move to the uncomfortable escape pod, but the door was stuck. Then he gave up and decided to just wait it out.

So he grabbed a bottle of wine and a glass from the lounge, went to the cockpit, plopped down in the captain's chair, leaned back, and watched the lights of the spaceport.

It was a bit quieter here, but every now and then he heard something....

"...oh baby! You DO have the tools and the talent!..."

Ro'lynd sighed dejectedly. Seriously, how the hell did that line work on women, but his didn't. It just wasn't fair.

"Hey, is the cowboy going to stop anytime soon? I've been going over charts all night while you asses were out painting the town and I'm DAMN tired!" Risha stood at the cockpit door in her pajamas, loose pants and a cropped Huttball jersey, with a cranky look.

Huh, Frogdogs. Who would've guessed? "I'm holing up in here with my friend," He raised the bottle up, "care to join us in riding out the storm?"

Risha walked up and took the proffered bottle. "Well, at least you didn't come home 'lucky' too. Let me guess, you tried to use the Wookie, didn't you?"

Ro'lynd sat up, turned and pointed at Risha, "I'm telling you it should've been foolproof!"

She laughed and shook her head. "Men. You have no idea."

Ro'lynd kicked back into the captain's chair, "And I suppose you could teach me to do better?"

" I could... if I was asked nicely"

Ro'lynd froze. Ok, is this happening? I think this is happening. Ok, no way this is happening, let's call her bluff.

He stood up and faced Risha, closing in on her as she backed up against the wall. He put an arm up and leaned on it. "And how exactly would one do that?", he said in a sensual tone

"Mmmm," Risha slowly traced a finger down Ro'lynd's bare chest, starting at his neck, "It's not that easy, Captain. You'll need to entice me first. Make me interested."

Holy kark! this IS happening! What do I do? Corso's line! Right, perfect! "Well, y'know, I do have the tools and the talent"

"Mmmm, yes you do." Her finger traced his belly button.

... it worked! IT KARKING WORKED! SCORE!

"You have this ship, which is the tool I need to locate my artifacts, and you have the talent to go out and get them for me once they're located", she ducked under his arm and walked towards the cockpit exit.

"See you bright and early tomorrow, by the way. The next piece is on Tatooine."

As she walked out the exit, she stopped and stuck her arm back in, waving the bottle. "Oh, and thanks for the bottle." and she left.

Ro'lynd was still leaning against the wall, with a dumbfounded look on his face.

Maybe I should've asked her about the Jedi in her pants....

I am a self admitted Corso Riggs hater. As far back as closed beta, he was annoying as hell in a fight, and then he just wouldn't shut up! And those cheesy lines!! Sounded like he was showing off for his girlfriend! This go around I found a new respect for Corso's ability to keep people off me, but he still wouldn't shut up. However, after writing this story (and reading the others), I might just be starting to learn to like him...

... who am I kidding? Bowdarr's my tank now! Shut up, Corso!

Also also wik: Yeah, another brother sister combo. I tjust worked out like this! I have characters that are single kids! I swear!

@Adwynyth: Nice, a quiet moment for Swaindrix! And the Gault part? Brilliance. Just what he'd do.

@Alaurin: Very nice. I can see Corso doing that for no other reason than it needs to be done. I like that they retired to a ranch, too. Something very romantic about that to me.

@Irish: GREAT pieces, sir. Short, but I was still emotionally invested 1/4 way through. Especially with Geltie.

@Yoshi: Nice character piece and great observation and use of the lack of Aliens on Alderaan

@Marissalf: Because BH's are three types of awesome with a side of swwwwwwweet! Loved the piece. In the Hutta arc, Mako is a bit of a busy body, especially that last part. Great PoV from a new hunter.