@h_weber: Welcome!!! Urgh, the SI does get a rough start on Korriban and like V'enn, I wasn't all that impressed with it either. She seems to have a lot of spirit to her and I look forward to seeing more!

@Charmedseed: I'll have to see if I can find that show because I see a lot of people mention it. Glad you're enjoying my guys and their shenenigains. As for the cigars and such.....vices are always fun and I find a lot of useful stuff on Wookieepedia. I always note it at the end so others can find it, but sometimes I have to use my imagination and make stuff up.....I note that as well. As for Ka'van.....I strongly encourage you to read Kitar's stuff and he's made other appearances in my stuff with Jax. We really do have a great time leveling together and laughing over vent. TeeHee.....glad you liked the cheeky comment about hunters and prey. I was hoping someone would get that one. As for Natalia......I'm worried too!

@AKHadeed: Akaavi is a tough one for me since I have a hard time getting a feel for her. I do try to include her though, but worry that I'm not getting it right.

@Mirdthestrill: RE: Graduated Fallout-Ah, the eternal conflict of concerned parents and rebellious teens.....I'm really not looking forward to that with my children. I'm glad Jess and her parents were able to work out a compromise in the end and love the naming of the ship!

RE: Feyte Saien, Bar'senthor-Loved the description of your JC and I can easily picture her in my mind! Nicely done!

As for my boys, I'm glad you're able to read some of the parts and hope it isn't too confusing. These next few bits shouldn't contain spoilers, so hopefully you'll get to read them. As for Aric getting a girl......its funny because he's my favorite companion to write about, but I originally toyed with the idea of pairing Natalia off with Corso. However, after writing some of this huge storyline out, and that whole 'bachelor party' bit spawning some naughty fun, she just seemed to be a better fit for Aric and I had to give him an embarrassing moment followed by some warm fuzzies. I do have someone else in mind for Corso now, but that's a bit down the road.

As for the Hat piece......I saw that picture on my Tumblr dash and it was all over for me. So Mallay, Aric, Bella, Corso, Lissa, and Felix got to have some fun with them. Those girls really are going to have quite a reputation by the time they're finished with Makeb!

@BenduKundalini: Welcome back! That was a fun read and I loved the pricing list.....added a realistic touch. Now you're making me think about all the ammo my characters fire off on a regular basis. Also, love the end hint at something less than pleasant befalling everyone's favorite Houk!

A hulking figure entered the alleyway, halting at the first step in. The yellow scales glinting as the Trandoshan paused near the streetlamp at the entrance. Nostrils flared as he sniffed the air, smelling the telltale signs of battle……blood, the slightly acrid odor of burning flesh, a hint of jasmine…..the dancer. He slowly scanned the area, shrewd eyes taking not missing a thing as the story unfolded in front of him……ending where he was currently standing with multiple sets of bloody footprints leading away from the scene and beginning at the still supine figure at the other end of the alley.

Qyzen silently made his way towards the body, already smelling death on the Human, careful not to disturb the footprints since he’d need to study them later. He recognized the Human, one of the men he and the Herald passed on their way out with the Colonel. He was dead, a pool of blood around his head and shoulders, coming from the gaping slash across his throat. Qyzen studied the area around the corpse, needing more information to determine if this was the only casualty. He spotted blood on the wall not too far from the dead Human, but it’s arcing pattern fit the man’s wounds perfectly and judging from the position, he was likely killed by a left handed person. Seeing no other traces of blood besides the footprints, he began to look for where the burning smell came from. He saw them a few seconds later, several circular scorch marks on the opposite wall. Someone fired a blaster and judging from the burnt flesh odor he detected, at least one of the blaster shots found its mark. He hadn’t seen any on the corpse, but checked again to be sure.

After confirming the dead Human hadn’t been hit, Qyzen walked over to the tiny white pile of fabric laying a few feet from the back door to the club, a stark contrast to the dark grey duracrete. He studied it for a moment before gently picking the silken robe up. The moment he touched it, he knew the fight had only taken place mere moments before he’d arrived. The fabric was still warm, very close to Human body temperature and the scent of jasmine was strong. He noticed some blood spattered on the left sleeve and closed his eyes to search his memories……the dancer went up to the bar soon after leaving their table. The bar keep handed her a drink with a straw, which she used to stir it……with her left hand. The dancer was left handed, she killed that man, the blood on the sleeve likely his. His initial assessment of her had been wrong and he realized now that she was no soft thing, but a cunning and deadly huntress in her own right.

The dancer agent came out in her robe, probably on break, a man stepped in front of her…..got too close and she killed him with a blade, probably something small she had in the pocket……then what? Qyzen set the robe back down and studied the ground around it, spotting another, smaller pool of blood about a foot away along with unmistakable signs of a struggle…..an overturned trash bin, scattered scuff marks, and the remains of a flash grenade. Then four different sets of footprints leading out of the alley……all going in the same direction, but one set was smaller…..female. The dancer killed the first man, catching them by surprise as they didn’t know she was a trained SIS agent. After shock wore off, the others tried to grab her and they struggled, someone getting stabbed or cut during, then someone set off the flash grenade. Qyzen worked on the assumption that those hit men wouldn’t be expecting a struggle and would see no reason to have a distraction tool like that, but an agent would, especially one knowing she was being hunted. The dancer agent probably pocketed a knife and the flash grenade before stepping out of the club since the Herald made her aware of the threat to her.

So the dancer blinded the men, then ran. Four sets of footprints, one hers, and a dead man……that would account for the whole group from the club, but three questions still remained, who was hit with blaster fire, who was stabbed or cut, and were either of those injuries mortal? Qyzen squatted next to the pool of blood, dipped a clawed finger into it, then brought it to his nose for a sniff before tasting it. The Trandoshan sighed in relief, the blood wasn’t Human so not the dancer’s. He had no way of knowing who was hit with blaster fire, but the footprints might give a hint. He studied the female’s first, once again very careful not to disturb any of them and saw no indicators she was hurt while fleeing. They were spaced out normally for someone running, no staggering pattern, none looking heavier than the rest. One set of the others’, however, were slightly uneven, showing a limp……one of the men had a leg injury.

Satisfied he’d gleaned all the information he could from the sight, Qyzen set off in the direction of the footprints to track those men and the remarkable little agent, pulling out a comlink to call his Herald as he hurried along the trail.

Kitar uses customization #1 for Qyzen and I decided to stay with that since I’m using her JC, Ka’van.

Casein Maroon was his target, and that was all Gabriel needed to know. His knowledge of Jedi and Sith bloodlines told him that this mark was no one special, no good meal. Some minor crime lord among many minor crime lords in the dirty undercity on Coruscant. A good assassin never missed the chance to sharpen his skills, though, so Gabriel had said yes in the bar a week ago when a rich man had asked him to do this job.

Gabriel was growing bored of his monotonous lifestyle. It had been so long since he had had his good meal, his divine essence, his soup. Kings and gods had fallen to his hunger, and yet hundreds of years later he was feeding on the scum of the normal people. He felt like a rancor living off scraps. This was no special job, but Gabriel would complete it like all the others. He had started by locating Casein Maroon’s isolated apartment. Gabriel’s cloaked speeder was now residing on the landing pad.

A flash of movement drew his attentive eyes downwards. Two guards had just exited the exterior doorway on which he perched. Gabriel jumped off of the doorway and landed in front of the pair. One of them had time to open his mouth before their throats were cut and Gabriel’s knives were sliding back into their respective pockets. Arterial blood nearly stained his boots as the dead men collapsed to the ground. So hard to get good help these days. He effortlessly slung the bodies over his shoulders and walked to the edge of the landing platform. An incalculable number of vehicles flew past through the airlanes, so unknowingly close to the scene of his play. Artificial light flickered over Gabriel’s pale visage as he observed the view. To the people in those cars he was just a scary bedtime story, a myth, a tale to frighten children. The tales couldn’t do justice to the horror they would experience should they ever learn the truth.

Gabriel dropped the corpses over the edge and turned away, not waiting to see if they would fade to tiny dots in the darkness or send a family hovercar into a spinning crash. The guards were now gone and only Casein should remain. The assassin calmly proceeded into the front lobby through the doorway he had been perched on for hours. No receptionist greeted him, owing to the lateness of the hour. His nighttime visit would have been an awkward appointment to explain.

Gabriel checked his knives and relaxed his muscles on the turbolift ride up to the second floor. This target shouldn’t be a challenge, but Gabriel had learned from some of his dead brethren that the greatest weakness of his species was overconfidence. He would not be found with a smoking hole in his chest because his left knife had been jammed in his sleeve. The hunger burned deep within his soul and mind, and now he would be satisfied.

The turbolift doors opened with a hiss. The second floor was a luxury apartment with a living room area situated in front of the turbolift. Surprisingly, a woman’s voice greeted him after a moment.

“You boys back already?” the voice asked drunkenly from a red couch facing away from him.

Gabriel walked soundlessly to the red couch and looked down to see a red Twi’lek woman hazily looking back at him. “Hey,” she hiccupped, “who’re you?”

Gabriel thought he might have seen a flicker of alarm pass through her scarlet eyes at the pale man with black hair standing over her before it was replaced by alcoholic dimness. His right knife slipped into his hand and he walked around to the front of the couch. She was too common to make any kind of meal, but loose ends were loose ends.

“It’s alright.” Gabriel replied softly, and slid the knife into her heart. He watched her die and savored the shock in her eyes as it faded to a dead stare. The feeling couldn’t compare to the euphoria of consuming his good meal, but it was satisfying nonetheless. He suddenly sensed his prey approaching him from behind. Show time.

“What the hell?!” a voice screamed behind him. Gabriel quickly spun and caught the bottle of alcohol before it could smash against his back. Casein Maroon stood on the other side of the room, and judging by his aim, was in a much less intoxicated state then his lady friend had been. They eyed each other across the ten foot distance. “I don’t care about the money, I’ll blast you to hell!” Casein yelled, and picked up a small table nearby him. Put it down, Gabriel soothed him. A blank look consumed his countenance and the table fell to the floor. “Oh.” He murmured in response, staring confusedly into space.

Gabriel closed the distance between them and stared Casein in the eyes. You’re fine, everything’s fine, Gabriel projected to him. “Everything’s…fine.” Casein repeated out loud. Gabriel grasped the crime lord by the shoulders and brought him to a close distance. One last shiver of resistance went through Casein before he was completely limp. This was good; too much fear ruined the meal, and this meal wouldn’t be great to begin with. It was time for the final act.

Tiny openings on either side of Gabriel’s nose opened to release two quivering tentacles. These proboscises were the instruments of his grand consumption. Eager for the climax to this long and laborious dance, the tentacles slithered up Casein’s nostrils to get to the soup that Gabriel so desired. He felt walls in the human’s head collapse as the feeders found their way into the brain. Blood and snot drained down Casein’s dirty face. Junk food, Gabriel mused.

As he had anticipated, the soup was diluted by cowardice and years of living like a criminal. The essence of Casein was filling but nothing more. Nothing special in this one, no good meal for sure. Gabriel sighed and quickly consumed the rest of what was the human Casein Maroon. The dim look of horror that had became Casein’s countenance faded to a blank stare to match his dead lady friend’s. Gabriel’s feeders noisily exited the human and more fluid drained from Casein’s nostrils.

The Anzat stared resignedly at the empty shell he still gripped in his hands. He had dared to hope that maybe this one would be different than the others, that the soup would provide him with something close to the euphoric high he achieved with only a special meal. Maybe it was time for a change in his line of work. Gabriel dropped Casein’s body on the floor like a child rejecting a new toy and retracted his proboscises back into his cheeks. He retrieved the money that his employer desired from Casein’s pockets. He would go meet his employer at the bar, collect credits that he had little use for, and then leave Coruscant. The galactic capital was a large place, but this was not where he would find his special meal.

But first Gabriel had to clean up this mess. His culinary tastes would interest a crime scene cop, even if that cop was from the undercity. Gabriel pulled a thermal detonator from his belt, set it to a ten-minute timer, and crouched down to gently rest it on Casein Maroon’s pale forehead. He then stood up and brushed his coat off. This would be the last bad meal he would eat.

Ten minutes later, Casein’s apartment was a burning pile of rubble and Gabriel was a ghost in the wind.

I plan to make this bozo an Imperial Agent if it can work out that way. In the end, it's up to him. If you haven't read the grand total of two SW books that the Anzat species is featured in, and you care, this is the Wookieepedia article on them.

Cipher Agent Cha'tiro'yun had had better days. It was nice to be back in an Imperial uniform, though. He missed the clean lines and soft fabric, not to mention being able to shave more than once a week. Today, he was Lieutenant Tilk'royan'kerl, a jumpy, groveling man who posed no threat to anyone. Part of his disguise was wearing a uniform that was slightly too big for him, just enough to hide his muscle tone without looking slovenly. He'd let his hair grow out, so it nearly covered his eyes. He kept his head down habitually, and never met anyone's eyes. His hands were always full of datapads, and he always seemed on the verge of tripping over his own feet. The hardest trick was applying blue makeup to the scars on his face, so they weren't noticeable.

Between that and the simple fact that he was an alien, he ranked as below contempt in the eyes of most people who met Tilk'royan'kerl, which, of course, was the goal. Running minor errands for Darth Venatus and prostrating himself to anyone who demanded it was keeping him hidden in plain view. It'd worked.

Until now. When one of Venatus's apprentices or acolytes or whatever had decided she needed to get her hands on a particular relic in Czerka hands, she'd grabbed the first officer she'd seen as her bodyguard, ignoring Tilk'royan'kerl's stuttered protests. He didn't dare argue too much with a Sith, of course. He wasn't at all fond of pain. When he'd seen the rest of the team, Cha'tiro'yun had stopped worrying about his cover and started worrying about his life.

All of them were on the small side, dressed in some seriously encumbering robes. None of them were wearing clothing that really allowed for flexibility or had much in the way of armor. He was the only one carrying more than one weapon. No one else seemed to mind, though. And he couldn't do anything but nod and shiver and his boots without breaking cover. And very possibly getting choked, which he had a marked aversion to.

“Well? Go ahead!”

“Go ahead and what, Lord?”

“Attack that robot, Lieutenant!”

Tilk'royan'kerl looked over at the guard droid. It had blaster assortments plastered all along its side. It was at least three times his size. The great metal legs looked hideously sharp. Then he looked down at his comfortable uniform. Right now, it didn't feel nice and familiar so much as it felt terribly thin and unprotective. Then he looked over at the beautiful Sith lady in the black robes with an improbable number of straps and tubes and even less armoring. Her two compatriots were no better. One was a human male wearing nothing but a thin wrap around his waist and a pair of tight pants, with one lightsaber dangling casually from his darkside ravaged flesh. The other was a mystery, a woman in light leather armor whose entire face was hidden. She carried a blaster rifle, but she was checking over a series of probes instead. And no one else was attacking the droid.

“Now, Lieutenant,” the Sith growled, her tone of voice making it clear there wasn't going to be a third request. The Chiss sighed internally, and activated his cloaking field.

It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to get him down the corridor and behind the droid. He sunk his knife in between the plating, then dodged back. The droid came after him, blasters firing. Cha'tiro'yun was quick, but not quick enough. He wasn't really trained or armored for face to face combat. A shot tore into his shoulder, and he went down instinctively. The droid kept firing, to his surprise. Usually, they didn't keep shooting at stationary targets. Then he realized no one else had engaged.

And then the needle stuck him in the arm. Kolto surged into his system, and he could see rays of dark purple haloing around the impact site. He realized that all three of them were healing him. Instead of attacking the droid. A second's observation indicated that they were, in fact, content to keep mending his wounds as fast as the droid could inflict them. And that they weren't going to help him take the machine down in the slightest. There was blood staining his uniform, and the shots kept coming. It hurt. A lot. A probe was radiating around his head, and every few seconds, it sprayed him with a mist of kolto.

The only thing to do was to take down the droid. Roy jabbed his knife into what was probably the motivator and went to work, keenly aware that his nice grey uniform was being thoroughly ruined and that it was probably going to be a long evening.

Thank you all for the kind comments on my Jedi

@alaurin:

New Revelations: I love the telepathy. Nice to see Ka'van and Natalia talking nearly as if they were in private. And of course I hope Natalia will be alright.

How the Story Unfolds: Great piece for Qyzen. he is an experienced hunter after all. Nicely done!

@h_weber: Welcome to the thread. The details made me curious about V'enn's background.

@Charmedseed: And yes, I hated that quest, too. Especially since the reaction of the two padawans in love felt so exaggerated.

I really hope I'll be able to write more about Arkeo and his philosophy.

@Mirdthestrill: You should absolutely make a habit of not trusting Iolith (don't tell her I said that). Even if there are situations where it is unwarranted, you'd better be safe than sorry.

Oh, the horror of parents. The children grow up and do something incredibly stupid. And the good ones realize that everybody has to make their own mistakes. And who knows, that wouldn't be the first stupid idea that actually worked. I like the story and I love the ship's name.

@BenduKundalini: I like the list. 'Platinum Annihilator Membership' is great.

@Mrtwo: Gabriel ranks high on my list of characters I wouldn't want to meet. It will be interesting to see him as an IA. I can't imagine the Sith being to keen on having him around. On the other hand he is a perfect tool to eliminate Jedi--as long as he doesn't grow too strong.

@AKHadeed: I could feel Roy's pain. I have done my share of KDY FPs.

I used to live the life many boys dream of. And maybe some girls that don’t want to be an Alderaanian princess. Right now there wasn’t much dream-worthy about it. Being stuck in a shabby room in a seedy cantina on Tatooine was grating on my nerves. The door wasn’t even properly lockable, and yet I was starting to feel like I was still imprisoned. In general I don’t respond well to being imprisoned. I cursed when I got out of the sonic shower. The piece of trash was working even less than the door lock. Fine sand trickled from my scalp as I brushed my hand over the stubble of my hair. Sand everywhere. I was past starting to hate sand. When mediocre sex leaves you feeling sore it’s high time for a change of scenery. Only I couldn’t leave before I got my revenge and rid of this damned curse.

When I got out of the refresher there was a huge twi’lek in dark robes standing in my room. How convenient, I was neither armed nor dressed. The twi’lek turned when he heard me. He showed no signs of hostility though. He must have been close to two meters and nearly as broad as he was tall. He probably had had to squeeze through the door to get into the room. His skin was blue, and at least his lekku and face were heavily tattooed. The slave mark adorned his left cheek crossing over his—very blue—left eye up to his forehead. Seemed like the curse had struck again. I couldn’t even get away with a minor impoliteness.

I have to admit I hadn’t been very nice to the last slave the hutt had sent to my room. My mood hadn’t been at its best when I had landed on Tatooine and had been deteriorating rapidly ever since. I hadn’t wasted a single thought about what happened to the delicate boy after I threw him out of my room. At least it seemed the hutt had received my message. Although this wasn’t what I had in mind when I had told the last one that I wasn’t interested in a practice board for a fakir. Kark! My kriffing whereabouts were supposed to be a secret. I could only hope the hutt’s spies were not working on a sideline.

“Webb,” I yelled in a voice that would have done my squad leader proud. “Get your sorry *** out of my bed and remind Regg, that snarkin excuse for a bartender, that he isn’t supposed to send people to my room.” Despite his whining after the first thrashing I had given him, Regg was really asking to lose the rest of his teeth.

The lad jumped out of my bed and into his pants and boots at light speed. He assured me he’d take care of it and was gone with only one startled glance at the twi’lek, his shirt fluttering in the airflow behind him. This left me to deal with my visitor.

I strolled over to the locker, took out some clothes, shook the surplus sand out of them, and started to dress. When I heard movement behind my back I glanced over my shoulder. The twi’lek leaned against the wall and admired my backside. Not your typical slave. From his looks I guessed at pit fighting champion or some such. The hutt must want something very badly. Ordinary slave or not, I would have been tempted to accept the offer except that I wasn’t particularly interested to be in his debt.

The man gave me an insolent wink. “Take your time, Revel. I am enjoying the vista.”

He better had. I had had a lot of spare time to work out during the last months. Some part of me was pleased it had had a visible effect. “Your master is wasting his time. I am not interested in a bed slave. As you were able to see I am provided for.”

He chuckled. “That would be open to debate. Judging by your mood the boy isn’t fit to do a man’s job. But that’s not why I am here.”

It wasn’t so much what he said but how he said it. There was something in his voice that gave me pause. My hand that had been reaching out for my bra stopped midway through the movement. The bra jumped across the room. I slowly turned as my eyes followed its trajectory. The twi’lek twirled my bra casually around his finger. My instincts were screaming at me to either grab my blasters or dive for cover beneath the bed, preferably both. My mind got the better of them and told them to shut up, as either idea seemed to be a very bad one. The hair at the nape of my neck stood on end.

The twi’lek grinned. He pushed back his outer robe to reveal the hilt of a lightsaber. “My master,” he said, emphasizing the master, “isn’t interested in your sex life.” He tossed the bra back to me so that I was able to catch it. “I am here for the artifact.”

Kark! I was talking to a Sith. And I had lost the artifact he wanted. I wasn’t cursed, I was done for.

@Mirdthestrill – Re: Graduated Fallout, I think I may have shed a tear or two. *sniff* I’m not too old to have forgotten that fight with my parents (albeit it wasn’t over a starship, obviously), and I still recall how traumatic it was.

@BenduKundalini – Re: Fire & Forget, that line, “My liver hates Nar Shaddaa.” Best line. I had a really hearty chuckle over that one. And it seems you have some familiarity with invoicing… Hehe!

@alaurin – Re: How the Story Unfolds, did Qyzen just throw down some serious CSI chops? Damn. Didn't see that coming. But I like it!

@MrTwo – Re: Hunger. GAAAAHHHH. Thank you, someone in the EU, for creating this species. What.

@AKHadeed – Re: Flashpoint thing. I love Chiss, I don’t know why (okay, really it’s because of Thrawn, let’s not lie), and the way you’ve described him getting into ‘character’ as it were, was really engaging. And the whole scenario is just hilarious – though I’m pretty sure Roy didn’t think so.

@frauzet – Re: The Twi'lek… I’m just going to refrain from making comments about sand… *coughcough*

@BenduKundalini- I like the stream of consciousness on this one. Man, you're right. I bet hunting gets pretty expensive after a while.

@Alaurin- Nice reminder that just because Qyzen is a bit of an alien psyche, that doesn't mean he's not intelligent, and he's a hunter. He would know stuff like this. It looks like Natalia escaped, then. Good for her.

@Mrtwo- That was pretty cool, actually. I remember reading something about the anzanti (in Tales from Jabba'a Place, I think) and thinking they were fascinating. Nice job thinking outside the box for your character concept. I always love it when people add to cannon in creative ways.

@AKHadeed- That was funny and sadly indicative of a lot of the KDY runs I've been in. You get odd combos sometimes. Poor Roy

@Frauzet- I already told you what I thought of this one on Tumblr, but I'll say it again. Nice job! And I share your love for Andronikos. I may or may not be planning to make my next inquisitor a female too, just so I can romance him *wink* (He's not Kiarn's type, if she even has a type, lol)

Jessasi and Risha board The Fool’s Wager and take off their coats. The latter heads for her cabin almost immediately, but Jessasi meanders her way to the galley, avoiding the lounge where Corso sprawls on the couch. He came back to the ship early, and she’s been trying to figure out what to say to him ever since Mal’s unwanted arrival.

She should probably say something. If she had just met the old fiancée he had mentioned without any explanation, she’d be steaming. But what could she say when she still wasn’t even sure what happened herself?

Finishing off a pair of sandwiches, she carries the plates into the lounge. Corso looks up. “Hi, Captain. Did you have fun?”

She shrugs and sets the plates on the coffee table before flopping onto the other couch. “Eh, nothing interesting really happened after you left. Want something to eat?”

“I don’t know…” He will. She’s sure of it. He never says no to food. They sit in silence. “I think so, yeah.” He takes one of the plates.

As she eats her own sandwich, Jess tries to figure out how to tackle the subject. He doesn’t seem like he wants

to bring it up. Well, might as well just jump in, then. “About tonight. I’m, uh, sorry about what happened with Mal. That was really weird.”

“It’s OK. I knew you had exes before I met them.”

“I- I just kind of have to explain what happened between him and me. If you’ll listen.”

“Sure, Captain. I told you, I’m not mad.”

Jess knows he’s a little more upset than he’s letting on, but she nods and starts. “I met Mal when I was twenty-one years old. I’d had the Fool for a couple years, and was just starting to get into real smuggling.”

I was working for a small group, before I got enough money to go independent. For my first run, they paired me up with one of their guys. Malkaand Gillet. He was, well, he was perfect, at least to me. Tall and handsome, dashing, funny...” Corso was starting to look a little upset. She should move on.

“After a few more runs, they accepted me into their group and went to assign me a partner. Mal asked to do it. A few weeks later, we started going out and I fell hard for him. And I mean hard. Like, I had liked a few guys in high school, but never like this. We dated for six months.” She stops.

“What happened?” Corso says gently.

“We… well, there was always a few things we didn’t see eye to eye one, if you know what I mean. He thought I flirted too much. I guess I kind of did. But he would always go off on me about stupid stuff anyway, so I never wanted to listen to him and I’d just get mad. We fought a lot after a while.

Anyway, one day we got in a big fight, the biggest one we’d ever had. He was mad because I was hitting on someone else in a cantina, and I thought he was being a spoilsport. I yelled a lot, and he yelled a lot, and then he said he never wanted to see me again and stormed out. Well, I stayed in port long enough to get all his stuff out of our room and left to make our delivery. I hadn’t talked to him again until today.” She stops. She’s not sure what else to say. Corso is quiet, looking down at his sandwich. “I guess I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I never told you about him. And I know it bothers you when I flirt with other guys, and I’ll try to stop.” She takes her plate and heads back to the kitchen, where she leaves it. Returning to the cockpit, she begins preparing to take off. Best to get to hyperspace before she goes to bed.

A movement behind her startles her and her head snaps around. It’s Corso. “Hey, Captain,” he says awkwardly.

“Hey, Corso.”

“I, uh, I wanted to say thank you for telling me.”

Heat creeps up Jess’s face. Already the thought of what she said is a little embarrassing. He continues. “And I need to say I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have been upset about Mal before I heard your explanation. And I did hear you tell him you weren’t interested.”

She shrugs. “It’s fine.”

He blushes too, in that innocent farm boy way of his. “Do you- do you want some help getting ready for takeoff?”

“Sure.” A smile tugs at her lips.

He climbs into the copilot’s seat and starts punching in controls. As the Fool lifts off, their hands find their way to each other.

Like I think I've said before, the beginning of act 2 is about when Jess starts really growing up and realize that she has to think about the consequences of her actions more than she does. That's her end of why the relationship with Mal went south: she wasn't ready for the give-and-take necessary to make romance work. Of course, he wasn't the nicest guy to begin with, but it could have worked if they had been a little more emotionally mature.

A/N: I’ve taken a lot of lines from different conversations the JK has with Scourge and mixed them up liberally with more dialogue in the spirit of the prompt(s). There were several things he said that left me literally speechless. Why is ‘unable to respond coherently’ not an option?

Also I think it’s brilliant every time you revive him and he says that you can go. Smug bastard. *sigh*

Anyway. I'm kind of proud of my word choice, but I haven't told anything really NEW, I guess, so I don't know how I feel about this, exactly. It needs something, and I don't love the last line, either. You all my betas now, bwa haha!

“I now understand why your Council tries to control your pleasure as well as your anger.”

Erianthe Tihomir, Jedi Knight and Hero of Tython, paused in mid-strike. As part of the preparation to finally capture the Emperor, she’d requested the help of Lord Scourge, Sith turncoat and former Emperor’s Wrath. Erianthe knew she would need different tactics in her arsenal to take on the Emperor a final time, and being the Emperor’s constant companion for nearly three hundred years had given him a distinctly personal perspective of the mysterious ruler.

Distraction was one of the Sith’s most effective, yet annoying, strategies.

The moment she hesitated, Scourge’s ruby lightsaber was at her throat. Erianthe sighed and powered down her own twin sabers, taking a small step back and conceding the match.

“Tsk tsk, Jedi. Mayhem and diversion will be the Emperor’s main defense and offense. Do not be fooled. It will cost you your life, and the rest of the galaxy will follow.” Scourge deactivated his lightsaber with a smirk, stowing the hilt on his belt.

If the Miraluka Jedi had eyes, she may have been glaring at Scourge. His smug attitude tested her patience more than Doc’s ridiculous come-ons, if that were possible. “I understand,” she replied simply, annoyed at her own distractibility. Scourge had a talent for inexplicably offering the most disconcerting observations. And while it was probably just as insidious as what the Emperor himself might throw at her, Scourge clearly seemed to take a certain delight in her discomfort.

While the Jedi trusted him and respected his skills, she disliked how easily he read her. Their relationship – if one could call it that – was tenuous, a caricature of ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend,’ as Kira liked to put it.

Erianthe had struggled to accept his presence on the Defender. He was anathema to all she was; hundreds of years of Sith influence, powerful and dangerous in a multitude of ways. But acceptance was the Jedi way, even if approval was not. So she accepted his help, and had even come to appreciate it. He’d become a valuable ally.

Scourge now stood with arms folded, smirking down at her from his considerable height. As in other instances, what had initially seemed like an offhand comment was not; it was a deliberately aggressive remark borne of his bizarre curiosity with questioning her comprehension and dedication to the Jedi Order.

“Lord Scourge. The Council does not dictate any of my actions - let alone my feelings - aside from the missions we’re issued, which you know well I am given the freedom to complete as I deem best. The Council cannot control my feelings any more than you can,” she offered. Like always, Erianthe sensed an undercurrent in his thoughts, something beyond the obvious retort she would inevitably offer.

“And yet you complete the tasks they give you. What is your motive?”

Erianthe blinked quickly, surprised. This should have been obvious; Scourge knew enough of the Jedi to understand their dedication to compassion and service, protecting the innocent, above all else.

“You know I follow the Council’s requests because it’s for the benefit of the galaxy. It’s my job, and it’s the right thing to do.”

“Pleasure is a far more powerful motivator,” Scourge declared, taking a step towards the Jedi.

“I…” Erianthe trailed off, trying to consider the statement objectively. Scourge seemed to enjoy these conversations, somehow drawing out of her ambiguous infractions against the Code or her practice of relying on the light for strength and peace. It could be annoying, even disconcerting, but there was a rationale to his probing questions that revealed much about her own philosophy. She would hardly say they were in accord, but she was beginning to see fewer and fewer differences in their paths – if not in their methods.

“I could agree, but I daresay our definition of what is pleasurable is quite different,” Erianthe replied carefully, watching his aura in the Force. Scourge could get irritated with her acquiescing responses, even angry, but he wouldn’t dare harm her in response. She was too valuable to him, the subject of his universe-saving vision, and she suspected he might even grudgingly respect her as a fellow Force-user. “For most of the galaxy, it’s what makes life worth living. It simply depends on where you find it.”

“Do tell, Jedi. Where is it that your definition allows you to find pleasure?”

Despite his attempt to bait her once again, the Jedi saw an easy answer for once. Erianthe smiled. “There is a grace and beauty in serving others; I take pleasure in that. They’re ideas worth fighting for.”

Scourge chuckled, drawing still closer. Erianthe stubbornly stood her ground, refusing to concede either the argument or her physical space. Nevertheless, the Sith's presence was overwhelming. "Always so existential, Jedi. Come now, there are no baser pleasures that you seek out?"

Erianthe actually blushed. She'd thought she'd gotten used to his innuendo, but he continued to catch her off guard. "That's not-"

“I still remember the feel of sunlight on my skin. The scent of favorite foods. The color of my first love’s eyes," Scourge went on, interrupting her protest. “To experience those simple pleasures again would be worth anything.”

The candor of the statement floored her. His plight, the erasure of all his senses in the ritual that provided him with such longevity, still drew a great deal of pity from the Jedi. She pitied him especially the sight of colors - of course, being Miraluka, Erianthe's experience with 'vision' was distinctly different from those species who had physical eyes. She wasn't sure they would have a shared experience there even if he had all his senses.

The Sith bristled, sensing her sympathy once again. Compassion was not a consideration he wanted any part of; it would be seen as weakness, and that would be distinctly un-Sith of him.

"I didn't realize it was simplicity you were asking after."

“Do not mock me.”

Erianthe sighed; he could be absolutely petulant at times. "All sentient beings have these experiences; we recall them with fondness. These smallest of pleasures..." The Jedi considered, thinking of her own childhood, even the small comforts on the Defender. "These I fight for as well. The Emperor would take it all away and leave nothing."

"Would you go so far as to say they make life worth living?"

"Yes. As I said, differently for different beings, but the smallest of these joys is no less than the greatest achievement of the galaxy,” she answered, recalling a recent meal the crew had shared. Doc had cooked a Ralltiiri dish to share, claiming with his usual extravagance that he was an outstanding chef and had considered going into the restaurant business before becoming a doctor. What Erianthe suspected was that he was homesick and longing for a reminder of his home planet. They’d enjoyed eating and talking together of ordinary things, their respective homes, and their bond had deepened. Even stoic Lord Scourge had remained at the table with them for the entire meal, though silent and sullen as usual.

His attitude at the moment was, however, one of arrogant triumph. “You have surprised me, Jedi. You have the heart of a Sith. Had you been born on Korriban, you would be sitting on the Dark Council now.”

Erianthe couldn’t help laughing aloud at the absurdity of the comment, but Scourge continued on, unperturbed by her mirthful response, beginning to circle around her.

“It is too late to turn you fully from the light - but should your children have a connection to the Force, I will see them properly trained.”

The Jedi continued to chuckle at this addition, almost equally preposterous as the idea of being Sith. She was far too young – not to mention rather preoccupied with saving the galaxy from destruction – to even consider the possibility of her own progeny. Was he making a joke?

“I struggle to comprehend what your teaching methods with younglings would look like,” she quipped through giggles, “and I daresay any children of mine – if they were strong in the Force – would be Jedi.”

Scourge stopped his pacing just behind Erianthe, projecting an abrupt, passionate approval into the Force around them. “Ha. Were you true to Jedi teachings, your protest would be that you will never have children of your body.” His words shocked Erianthe into a startled silence, suddenly bewildered and unsettled. Scourge smiled and loomed over her, murmuring into her ear.

“But you will turn against those shackles as you have so many others.”

Gasping, Erianthe moved to pull away from him, but Scourge had surreptitiously planted his hands on her shoulders, physically holding her in place. She stiffened, unmoving as he continued to whisper dark promises to her.

“Had you been instructed in the true way of the Force, the galaxy could not match your power. I will make sure that mistake does not happen again,” Lord Scourge assured before releasing his heavy grip on the Jedi. Erianthe jerked away, breathing heavily. The Sith made no move to stop her, only smirking and folding his arms again, seeming to enjoy her discomfort. “A most enlightening conversation, Jedi. You may go now.”

Erianthe, unable to conjure a single word of response, hesitated only a moment before fleeing the hold for the solitude of her quarters.

@Mirdthestrill: I like Jessasi's reflection about her relationship with Mal, why it didn't work out, how she doesn't put all the blame on him. It shows that she has grown up quite a bit since then.

@Charmedseed: There can never be enough conversations between Scourge and the JK, especially a LS one. I can imagine him being a constant trial. I like that he scores a point here. He has the advantage of several lifespans.

I considered my options and settled for telling the truth. “I don’t have the artifact, Sith.” When he didn’t fry me on the spot but only stared at me, I continued to put on my clothes. I was glad he didn’t interrupt me. Being naked in front of any ordinary man wouldn’t bother me at all, standing naked in front of a Sith served to emphasize my vulnerability. In all likelihood he was able to kill me before I even reached my blasters. I wasn’t eighteen anymore. I was painfully aware of the fact that I was able to die. Some of the techniques the Imperial bastards had utilized during my recent vacation in one of their prisons had made me realize how fond I had grown of breathing. I suppressed a shudder.

“As I said, I don’t have it.” When he still showed no reaction, I continued. “You know what? I am glad I don’t have it. The thing is cursed. It drove my crew insane; they mutinied.” The damned Sith made me nervous. My voice sounded still calm, but I was rambling. Now it was too late to stop the recollection of memories I wasn’t particularly fond of. “Ten days; I floated ten days in a disabled escape pod.” Buried alive in the endless nothing of open space. Helplessly watching the filling level indication of the oxygen tank crawling toward zero, talking to myself, reciting the list of those that had put me in there. The thought alone made me want to hit someone, although the list had grown shorter by several entries. I still had nightmares, not to mention onsets of claustrophobia. “After that thirty days in Imperial lockup… ”

“Might want to add like 300 something to that count.” The Sith made kind of an upwards spiraling gesture with his finger.

My eyes narrowed. It had been close to a year. My brain was just not able to grasp it. I still didn’t know what they had done to me, but it had been effective. “You…” I swallowed the expletive. “You already know all that. You know I don’t have your precious artifact.” I crossed my arms. From the rest of my posture he would be able to tell my hands were balled into fists nonetheless. I didn’t care. I wanted to make sure I wouldn’t do anything rash. They had already stolen a year of my life. I wanted to keep what was left. “What do you want?”

With the black tattooed eye sockets his stare was penetrating all the more. “Information, all of it. The things you withheld and those you learned since.”

My temper then decided it didn’t care too much about my wish to stay alive. “Go **** yourself!” If he thought he could just show up, intimidate me a bit, and I’d give him what he wanted, he was barking up the wrong tree. I am a reasonable woman—most of the time—but I don’t let myself be bullied. The Imperials had taken me into custody on account of an old bounty. That debt had been paid. More than that, if anyone cared to ask me. The Sith probably wouldn’t care. I didn’t need to check where my blasters were. It would take me one jackknife to reach them.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I think I got other options. But business before pleasure.” He took a step closer. “Maybe you prefer the hard way, though.” He raised his left hand to my eye level and sparks of electricity danced between his fingers. “Then it will be pleasure before pleasure.” One of his non-existent eyebrows rose. “Your choice.”

I am not particularly fond of pain but I ain’t afraid of it either. Still, sooner or later he’d get me to spill. But I thought I, too, had other options. I spread my arms and laughed in his face. “Go on. Hope you enjoy the show. It’s gonna be a long one. We’ll draw this out until both of us are bored. In the meantime your artifact might just as well be on its way to the other side of the galaxy.”

A lightning bolt fizzled past my head and struck the wall behind me. I didn’t blink—maybe I flinched, but only a little.

“So you think you’re tough.”

“No, I know I am tough!” Modesty wouldn’t save me.

He still stared at me. I felt a wave of nausea as he did—something. Something dark and oppressive seemed to linger in the room from one moment to the next. I couldn’t see it, I couldn’t touch it, but it was there, creeping over my skin, slithering through my veins, caressing my mind, the almost-stink of it leaving a bad taste in my mouth. Telling myself there was no need to be afraid didn’t work. I wasn’t that dumb. I gritted my teeth. It took an effort to keep myself from dropping to my knees. Apart from that the only thing I was able to do was think ‘No!’. And once again it was my stubbornness that saved me.

The feeling vanished as fast as it had appeared. The Sith nodded. “You don’t want the artifact yourself.”

“I am here to kill the guy who has it.”

“If you’d be able to reach him, he’d be dead by now.”

Keeping the frustration entirely at bay was impossible. “Yes.” There was no point in denying it. The Sith had been able to find me. He knew I had been here long enough. Like as not Imperial Intelligence, or whoever was shadowing me, knew more about my doings since I had been released than I was able to recollect myself.

“Perhaps a partnership is in order.”

It took me a moment to process what the Sith had proposed. The decision whether he was for real or trying to fool me still had to be made. “Why should I trust you?”

There was a sparkle in his eyes. “You shouldn’t. But you should savor the risk. Life tastes a lot sweeter with it.”

Now he was speaking my language. I smiled. Wilkes, my old first mate who had started the mutiny, had been living on borrowed time for far too long already. I stepped forward and held out my hand. “Partners.”

“Partners!” the Sith confirmed as he took my hand into his to shake it. I more than half expected him to try to crush mine with his huge paw, but he didn’t. The handshake was firm, not more than appropriate to seal a deal.

In the game Andronikos states that he was in Imperial captivity for 30 days, the encyclopedia says it was one year. Kabe had the brilliant idea that Andronikos was tortured and they had messed with his mind, so to him the year only seemed like one month.

@frauzet: Thanks! I’ve been playing Erianthe very straight-up LS, so I always felt like those convos were SO frustrating (had to spend a lot of extra credits on companion gifts, pft). And frightening! For someone like Scourge to say “there’s a darkness in you” to a very straight-and-narrow Jedi, it was like… excusemewhat? And yeah, he’s totally one of those bastards with an answer for frickin’ everything. There was literally no right answer as a response to the whole “your children blah blah” thing; he was going to trap you in your answer one way or another. Well, except “You’re creepy.” XD That was appropriate, but nowhere near as fun.

Re: Partners - That description of the Sith getting into her head gave me the shivers something fierce. I liked it. =) Also being pissed enough to not care that one is naked is a fun thought. The tenuousness of this partnership seems like it could REALLY get interesting really fast.

@DogeDandolo: Someone told me he was supposed to be a potential romance, and they ran out of money or something? I can see it. I MEAN COME ON IT’S RIGHT THERE.

And thank you! Like I said to Frauzet, I’m playing Erianthe very LS, but there’s this insidious truth in everything Scourge says (smarmy bastard). You’ve seen Labyrinth, right (yeah the one with David Bowie)? I read once that the masquerade scene was this example of loss of innocence, like Sarah was curious and tempted but still repelled a little bit by the very ‘adult’ world presented in the scene. I’m trying to play it like that, this sort of morbid curiosity, but a LS Jedi could just never bring herself to let go, she still fights it, like Sarah - you lose something either way. But the curiosity remains, and even that feels a little wicked. I’m fascinated with that concept.

“You blasted the bulkhead with the Force?”

“Yeah,” Rufuro shrugged. “I didn’t want to wait until the agent had installed whatever it was he had been installing. Seemed like a waste of time.”

“A waste of time?”

“I knew she was there, Ciner. I could feel her Force presence. You know me better than to assume I would have given her the chance to escape.”

“I know you better than to assume you would pass up the chance for a fight with a Jedi. Otherwise you couldn’t have cared less.”

“Well, there still was Kilran’s threat to kill us all if we didn’t intercept the general.”

“As you seem to be convinced of some glorious future awaiting you, I doubt you were impressed.”

Rufuro smirked. “Do you want to know what happened or not?”

“Okay, you blasted the bulkhead. What next?”

“So, I tell the agent that the Jedi is mine and he shouldn’t interfere. We walk into the room, and there she is. A twi’lek padawan. She gives me a little heroic speech, telling me she won’t let me pass, like she is some actor in a holodrama. Her upbringing is to blame. I know what I am talking about.” Rufuro’s eyes sparkled, he flashed his teeth in a feral grin. “Out of heartfelt sympathy I decide to be polite. ‘Lady,’ I say, ‘consider yourself a former member of the living.’ Well, she didn’t get the hint and tried to fight the inevitable.”

Ciner chuckled. “And you’re calling me arrogant.”

“There was nothing arrogant about it. I had nearly her level of training when I was still a padawan myself.” Any observant eye would have been able to catch the slight wince. Rufuro didn’t talk often about his past, and when he did it seemed to discomfit him physically. Morgon’s conditioning of the Mirialan had been thorough. “With the power of the dark side I am now much stronger than I was then. I knew she didn’t stand a chance. She was lucky she singed my robe.”

“Doesn’t sound like I missed out on a spectacular fight.”

“You would have laughed at her proficiency with the saber. She had the ability to create some kind of whirlwind. That was nasty. But it took much of her concentration and she wasn’t able to move about while doing it. So I simply stayed clear of her while it lasted.” Rufuro searched for something inside his robe. “Here.” He put a cylindrical object on the table.

Ciner picked it up. “Her lightsaber.” After a short inspection he activated the weapon. The hum of the blade was accompanied by a soft green glow. He flourished the lightsaber to test its balance. “Not bad.”

“Keep it, if you like it.”

Ciner deactivated the saber and tossed it back to Rufuro. “No. This is yours. I am sure I’ll get the chance to collect my own before long.”

I have never particularly relished fighting with my lightsaber, certainly not as much as some other Sith I know. In my experience, once you’ve gotten to the point where sabers are drawn, things have gotten severely out of hand. It is not without irony, then, that the fighting style I have primarily adopted, and continue to practice, is Form II, known as Makashi. It’s really a duelist’s form; best for fighting other sabers, but I was drawn to it by the elegance and simplicity of its moves. Bounding around while you twirl blades like mad may seem impressive, but it wastes a lot of energy, and you can just as easily look like a deranged lunatic. There is a fluid grace to Form II, and one never looks overly taxed, even in the heat of combat.

It’s also an excellent form for fighting one-handed. So many Sith seem to forget our swords are just plasma blades, not great heavy vibroswords that need a lot of momentum to cut anything. A tap with a lightsaber is nearly as effective as a full-bodied swing. Having a hand free also allows me to summon lightning during the fight, which has saved my life more than once.

My saber is styled accordingly. It took me a few tries to find a hilt-shape that worked best, but I now have a smoothly curved handle, common for practitioners of Makashi. The design is simple and sparse; I’ve also never understood the need some Sith have to make their sword look more like a primitive club, with spikes and knobs that restrict where you can grip it. My hilt is an almost ebony-black, like it was carved out of obsidian, smooth and elegant.

As I said, it mostly serves as an accessory, but that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be functional as well as decorative. I like to avoid resorting to wielding it whenever I can. But, if I can’t charm, zap, or simply throw Ms. Angharad Irons at the problem until it goes away, my lightsaber is always a good backup plan. It hasn’t let me down yet.

@Charmedseed- Hooray for Miraluka! Such an underrated species, IMO. I love that image of a her confronting the dark, resisting, but feeling a bit tainted all the same. I miss having Scourge on my team.

@Frauzet- RE: Partners- I still love Andronikas. I also admire that you're secure enough in your character to write him from an outside perspective- and one of an (almost) cannon character at that!

RE: Souvenir- Ru!!! Aggh!!! *fangril flailing* OK. *recovers* That line does fit perfectly

@Hadeedak- Nice explanation. I always feel like the differences between lightsaber forms are one of the fine points of lore that I should master some day. And I still can totally picture Zeedor with his posh British accent and all

Karanni stood over the body of the other student. She didn’t know the human girl’s name and she didn’t really care. What mattered was that she had killed her, just like Lord Eliss had told her to. It had been too easy, really. She had been worn out and injured from the trial in the valley, while Karanni still felt wonderful, buoyed along by Dark Side rage. Leaning casually against the wall, she settled in to wait until someone came to retrieve her.

A few minutes later, Lord Rornak appeared. "How did I do?" she asked.

"Passable," He replied.

“Excellent.” Only one thing would make this day better. “And Quillan?”

“He hasn’t started his trial yet.”

Well, not quite perfect, then. “I want something to eat.”

“We’ll see. I’m busy right now.”

“But-“

“Quiet.” Karanni fell silent and continued to follow Lord Rornak down the hallway. They were going back to the

dorms. When they reached them, he directed her in and said “And leave the other students alone. Lord Erius doesn’t need you getting in trouble for harassing some other Sith lord’s pet project.”

“Yes, Lord.” She wasn’t feeling like picking a fight right then anyway. The combination of euphoria and exhaustion was too pleasing. All she wanted right then was some food and sleep.

The next morning, she rose early. Quillan sat on the floor in the hallway, an expression of triumph on his face.

Rage boiled up in Karanni. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for my master to be ready to leave,” he said dismissively.

“Who?” A ***** of fear tingled at the back of her mind.

“Lord Erius, of course. What, did you think you were going to be his apprentice?”

“He promised! He promised that I could be his apprentice if I outscored you!”

“You didn’t.”

“Liar!” she screamed. “I saw the rankings, you were behind me!”

“That was before the trial of talent. You know I’ve always been more powerful than you. You’re practically Force-blind.”

Karanni’s vision filled with red and she leaped at Quillan. She would claw that expression from his face with her own nails.

Before she reached him, something slammed her hard against the stone floor, knocking the wind out of her.

“What did I say?” said Lord Rornak. “Now get up off the floor.”

“Yes, Lord,” she gasped, trying to raise herself.

He ignored her. “Quillan, Lord Erius is leaving in an hour, and he wants you on the landing pad.”

“Yes, Lord.” Quillan pulled himself to his feet and left, casting one more glance over his shoulder at Karanni. Lord

Rornak followed him.

The day passed. Another day. And a third. Apart from the droid that brought meals, Karanni didn’t see anyone besides the other students who had apparently passed, and less and less of them as one by one, they left with their new masters. But who was going to be her master? Lord Erius had thrown her away, who would command her now?

Finally, everyone had left, even Kiarn. Karanni hadn’t even known the redhead had survived the trials. Not that it really mattered. As she sat alone on her bunk, she felt someone approaching. A moment later, Lord Erilinn appeared. “Karanni?” he said.

“What is it, Lord?”

“Your master got here today and wants to see you.”

“What?”

“Your master. He wants to meet you.”

Karanni jumped up. “Who is it?”

Lord Erilinn seemed to be surprising a smile. “You’ll see.”

He led her up to the upper levels, where the Sith who visited stayed and the teachers had their offices. “Darth

Baras is waiting in there.”

Darth Baras? Karanni had heard of him, but only in passing. Lord Erius hadn’t liked him. That was good enough for her. She entered the room. He stood by a desk, a large man wearing a set of elaborate dark grey robes and a faceless carved helmet completely obscuring his face. “Darth Baras,” she murmured, bowing.

“Apprentice. You may rise.” She did. “You’re a former student of Erius’s are you not?”

“Yes, Lord. How did you know?” Their connection to him was supposed to be a secret.

“Erius thinks himself clever, but I see through his plans. He’ll never succeed. He lacks the raw power to overthrow the Emperor.”

“Yes, master.”

Darth Baras stepped closer to her. “I’ve seen your training records and watched your trials. Your saber technique is strong, but you could do better with the Force ability you have. What truly concerns me, though, is your attitude.”

Karanni felt something akin to disappointment. She wasn’t good enough, even for him. Well, she’d have to keep working. “I’m sorry, master.”

“Exactly what I mean. Erius surpasses independent thought in his students to the point that they become blind in every spot he is blind and afraid of taking decisive action. A Sith must be bold, never looking back and never afraid to make a decision.” He slammed his fist on the desk. “It is a travesty against the Sith, and I won’t allow it in my apprentice.”

“Yes, master.”

“Now, I want to see how you act now that you do not need to please him before I make a final decision about taking you on. On the lowest level of the Academy are the holding cells. Several days ago, Lord Eliss caught a young twi’lek sneaking around the Valley of the Dark Lords and imprisoned her there. Under interrogation, she confessed to searching for a lightsaber in the tomb of Naga Sadow. If you can retrieve it, you may keep it and take your place as my apprentice.”

“Yes, master.” As Karanni left the office, she felt just a bit of excitement. She would become a Sith, earn Darth Baras’ approval, and, one day, she would make them pay, both her old master and her brother.

SWBM readers might know that Quillan isn't being entirely truthful. He and Karanni actually tied.

I heard someone say (I think it was in the story and lore forum) that Baras was looking for a servant and Zash was looking for a replacement. I like that, and I think it comes out in the way they train their apprentices, and ends up making a lot of sense with my particular characters' personalities as well. But even Baras thinks Karanni is a little too obedient, so he's giving her a chance to run a mission on her own and learn some agency.

@Hadeedak: Simple and sparse design, very fitting immo. Also had to laugh at the deranged lunatic.

@Mirdthestrill: If I'll ever find out how I manage to appear secure when I am not, I'll have the method patented.

With your comments on Ru you always make my day. Thank you very much!

I think I told you already, but I'll say it again. I like this solution. As I see it, Baras does nothing without reason. The explanation you give for this trial is very good.

The sun stood already low above this part of Coruscant, bathing the skyscrapers in golden light. The sky lanes were busy as usual at this hour, the driver was adept in weaving from lane to lane. Iolith briefly wondered why the woman was in a hurry. Maybe some brass hat had decided to see Iolith immediately. Or the SIS had decided to secrete her away before the brass hats could lay eyes on her. There was no love lost between SIS and military. That was an open secret. Right now Iolith couldn’t have cared less. At worst they’d buy here more time. She looked towards the horizon, the buildings in between flickering past. She let her mind wander.

***

With a beep the door to Arkeo’s cabin unlocked.

“If you are not comfortable with this arrangement, we can wait until the detention cell is cleaned.”

Iolith smirked. “An evil Imperial spy alone with a young, good looking, innocent Jedi? Do you really think it is the spy who should feel uncomfortable?”

Arkeo opened the door and motioned her to enter. “You may have a point there.”

She stepped into the small room. Arkeo followed her over the threshold and closed the door. He stood right behind her. “I fear it is not very spacious.”

“That was fast.”

“What?”

“For the Jedi to feel uncomfortable.” She looked over her shoulder.

He scratched the back of his head, suddenly appearing much younger. “You can have the first turn in the refresher.” He coughed. “Sorry.” With a gentle yet firm grip he held her by the shoulders as he squashed past her back to reach the wall-locker. He opened it and took a garment out. He passed it to her. She unfolded it. It was a cream-colored sleeveless shirt, which would easily reach to mid-thigh when she wore it. “I think that’s the best I can offer you as a substitute for a nightshirt.”

“Thank you, it’s perfect.”

She went to the refresher, undressed and took a quick shower. She would have loved hot water. She had been allowed to clean herself before they had boarded the Esseles, but the last time she had had running water had been on Ord Mantell. She cursed herself for being an idiot when she realized where that thought led her. She felt miserable enough without thinking about Nik. Seeing him earlier hadn’t helped. Giz’ hostility she was able to understand. She had used him, no denying the facts. But the affair with Nik had been something else. Of course she hadn’t told him her identity was fake, of course she had resisted her arrest. What did he expect? Jorgan seemed to think she was somehow responsible for his demotion. Obviously something had happened after her arrest that she didn’t have the slightest clue about, but everybody else thought she had been involved in.

The outer walls of her self started to crumble, the last putty in the cracks cleared away by the ultrasonic vibrations of the shower. Her life was a mess. The death of her family members rendered her plans futile, no matter what she had been telling herself. Despite all that had happened in the past, she knew she was unable to abandon her house. The obligation outreached her differences with her father. No more playing the spy. Three years for naught. She had spent seven years of her life running from family duties. On Ord she had been forced back into being Iolith. After leading Sidali’s respectively Zal’s life for so long, Iolith had been a stranger. And even this stranger was gone now. All that had defined her, nothing but bad memories. What was left? Who was this person staring back at her out of the mirror? Who was the woman she would have to be to lead house Zairos? She shivered. She was cold.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Inhaling, exhaling. Head high, shoulders back. The smile in the mirror looked real. Good. She pulled the shirt over her head. She’d have time to think. The Republic couldn’t ignore the information she had revealed. The Empire would deny its authenticity, of course. The proceedings would take a considerable amount of time. Time she’d be hidden away in the safety of a Republic prison, while Kilran and the likes of him would fight amongst each other. The battlefield would be neatly arranged when she returned. She took another deep breath and opened the door.

The Jedi leaned against the wall, waiting for his turn in the refresher. “Make yourself at home. The bed is yours. After the fighting I prefer to spend the night meditating.” He waved with the bundle of clothes in his hand. “I’ll be right back.”

Iolith took a look around her after he had closed the door. She tried the cabin door. It wasn’t locked. He seemed to trust her word, but not enough to leave his lightsaber with her. Then again, he might be used to take it with him wherever he went. The locker contained more spare clothes, his personal holocom, and a data pad. A quick search of the rest of the room revealed no other personal items. She sat down on the bed and tucked her feet under her. Hands in her lap, she tried not to think at all while she waited. She needed to regain her composure before the SIS took her into custody again.

When Arkeo returned he wore a sleeveless dark shirt tugged into a long dark skirt. His lightsaber was attached to his belt. He carried a pile of clothes, including hers, which he entrusted to the service droid for washing.

“You wear a lot of dark clothes. Don’t Jedi usually wear brown and beige?”

“Most Jedi do. You’ll find a lot of Mirialans prefer dark colors. They are better suited to capture the sun’s warmth.”

“I visited Mirial twice. The temperatures were not very inviting.” Iolith shivered.

Arkeo picked up the blanket at the end of the bed and draped it around her shoulders. He sat down on the bed’s edge. “It’s bearable with the right clothing. Force users learn to heat their bodies from an early age on. The habit is hard to get rid of when you travel someplace warm.”

“Right now I could use some extra warmth.”

His brows shot up.

“Oh, no. That’s not… I wasn’t implying… I am familiar with some of your customs. I mean I didn’t want to ask you…” She was babbling.

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” Arkeo got up.

Iolith grabbed his hand. “Could you hold me for a moment? Please? Just hold me…”

Arkeo hesitated before he sat back down again. He shifted closer and put an arm around her shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She leaned into him and hugged him tight, one arm around his back, the other across his chest. Her head rested on his shoulder. “I’m not sure. It would be embarrassing if I started to cry.”

“I wouldn’t let on about that.” He held her with both arms now.

She wriggled closer into his embrace and sighed. “I lost so much today. I was afraid I’d lost myself, too. It’s reassuring to feel your touch.” She felt him stroke her back, the movement slow and gentle. “I hated my father. I am glad he is dead. At the same time I feel bad. He was my father after all.” She closed her eyes and listened to Arkeo’s heartbeat. She wondered whether she had done enough. If she had been a better daughter the relationship with her father would have been better, too. He had been a Sith and the head of his house. Of course he hadn’t been able to indulge her selfishness.

She couldn’t believe her own thoughts. The man hadn’t had anything to spare for her, least of all love or understanding. Her hands balled into fists on their own accord, grabbing Arkeo’s shirt.

The Jedi tensed for a moment. Then his heartbeat seemed to become louder. She felt warmth and calm flooding her. It was clear he was doing something through the Force. She let it happen. When she opened her eyes he was emanating a soft golden glow. He was beautiful to behold. She raised her head to get a better look at him.

“Do you want me to stop?” He seemed concerned.

She shook her head. “No. No, I don’t want you to stop.” She settled back into his embrace. She inhaled his scent. She let herself drift. The warmth felt good. Her lips touched his neck. She breathed a kiss below his ear. She nipped his earlobe and he shivered.

He turned his head away. “Please.”

“Don’t you like it?”

He ended his embrace and slid away from her. “I am sorry. I didn’t want this to become physical. I shouldn’t have encouraged you.”

“No, it is me who is sorry. For a moment I forgot you are a Jedi. What you did—it felt good. My anger is gone.”

“Io, I…—it wouldn’t be right to take advantage of you.”

“To take advantage of me?” She fought to suppress a giggle. That was too cute. “How so?”

“You seek comfort, warmth. I would distract you for a while, help you flee from your troubles. But you’d have to get back to them sooner or later.” He looked at his hands. “Rather sooner than later, given that I am inexperienced.”

She pulled her knees to her chest beneath the shirt and rested her chin on top of them, hugging her shins with her arms. “You might be astonished how many problems can be solved with sex.”

Now it was his time to smirk. “Problems that without sex could have been avoided in the first place?”

Iolith laughed. “Very observant for one inexperienced.”

His expression grew somber. “I see a lot of things, Iolith. It’s not your body which needs warmth.”

“I doubt I’ll find a trusted shrink anytime soon.”

“You would have trusted me with your body. How far do you think you’d be able to trust me with your mind?”

“There are not many secrets of my body left I have not already shared. But my mind? My mind is something else altogether. I am a lonesome person.”

“And yet your family and your past won’t leave you alone.”

“I am upset about questioning myself.”

“Allow yourself to mourn the lost possibilities, all that could have been, the choices you’ll now never have. Don’t dwell on your hatred, let go and move on. Your destiny lies before you.”

“I don’t believe in destiny.”

“Many people don’t.”

“Why do you?”

He thought about her question for a moment, then shrugged. “Mirialans are a religious people. I was taught since I was a small child. When I was old enough to question the elders I never found proof of our religion being wrong.”

“They didn’t discourage you to ask questions?” She had learned fast that asking questions about the proof of Sith superiority was a foolish thing to do.

“A construct that isn’t sound enough to weather a storm of questions isn’t save enough to live in.”

“So it was destiny that we both met?”

“Probably.”

“Probably?”

“I think it was the Sith’s destiny to die. If Phorik had been the one to kill him, I would have still met you afterwards. Destiny leaves us with a lot of choices. The responsibility for our actions is still ours.”

“It must be nice to have something to believe in, even if it is only an illusion.”

He smiled. He wasn’t offended. “Illusions can be very real.” He held out his hand. “Let’s see if you trust me enough to let me show you.”

He had her back where he had wanted her to be. Iolith realized how dangerous the man in front of her was. Was she brave enough to face him?

“I am not your enemy, Io. Whatever happens, I will keep you save. I promise I won’t pry for the secrets you want to hide. I’ll ask you to let me in, and if you tell me to leave I’ll be gone. Destiny brought us together, the choice is yours.”

She took a deep breath and nodded reaching out for his hand. Some scrambling, shifting, and sliding later, she was seated in front of him between his legs, her back resting against his chest. He held both of her hands in his above his knees.

He embraced her without letting go of her hands. “Focus on your breath. I am here to guide and to guard you.”

She breathed, in and out, while Arkeo moved her arms in an intricate pattern in sync with her breathing. She felt his chest raise and lower with the same rhythm as her own. His soft golden glow surrounded them both.

“Concentrate on the thoughts that cause you trouble. Close your eyes. Don’t forget to breathe, slow breaths, deep in and out. Gather the negative emotions in one place. The belly works best for most people.”

She did as he told her. After a while she felt like there was an ugly black knot in her intestines. The Jedi’s warmth seeped through both their clothes and into her. Somehow the golden glow wrapped itself around the blackness until it was entirely contained.

“Now try to relax. Let yourself drift.”

She felt like she was going to fall asleep anytime now. She let herself float in the warm nothingness. The nothingness turned into mist and Arkeo stood in front of her.

“Will you ask me to come in?”

She was confused, but when she turned they stood in front of a metal gate inside a huge stonewall. The smooth black stones fit together almost seamlessly. The edges of the wall were lost in the mist. She touched the gate tentatively and it swung open. She stepped over the threshold into the jungle behind. She stared at the huge trees for a moment until she realized Arkeo was still standing in front of the gate. She motioned for him to enter. “Come in. What is this place?”

He closed the distance and stood beside her once again. “You tell me. It’s your mind, your illusion. I have never seen its like.”

She turned taking in the huge trees, the undergrowth. The sky couldn’t be seen. Everything was damp. “It looks like the jungle on Dromund Kaas. What are we doing here?”

“We will hunt the manifestation of your negative emotions and kill it. Lead the way! As I said, it is your illusion.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She shook her head. “If I wasn’t sure you hadn’t slipped me anything, I’d ask you where you buy the stuff.”

“I am impressed myself.” He touched the leaves of a fern. “I have never seen this level of detail.”

“You’ve done this often?”

“Only at home, with other mirialans and the guidance of an elder.”

“Okay.” She stepped closer to him. “I have to admit, this is—stimulating.” She grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him down to her, and kissed him. After a moment’s hesitation he kissed her back. When she broke the kiss he was breathless. “Yes, I think I like my illusion. Feels real.”

He coughed. “That’s not what the ritual is for.”

She grinned. “Ready for the hunt?” She bounded off down the path.

Arkeo cursed behind her. “Force, Elder Haran didn’t warn me about anything like this, but then, he probably never met anybody like you.”

Her laughter cut off when she reached another wall blocking her path. It seemed to be made of black glass and was cold to the touch. She shivered. It ran to the left and right as far as she could see, but seemed to be slightly curved. It was here to hide something behind.

Arkeo stopped behind her, wary. “What is this?” Rain drizzled down on them. The wall was slick and shone in the sudden brightness of a lightning.

“I don’t know.” She furrowed her brow in thought. She had an idea, but… “This shouldn’t be here.” Iolith held Arkeo back when he tried to touch the wall. “Don’t.”

He took a step backwards. “As you wish.”

They heard a howl from the left. Iolith shared a glance with Arkeo who nodded. Yes, that was what they were looking for. Together they headed in the direction the sound had come from. The path led them parallel to the wall for about 100 meters before it veered off into the gloominess of the dense jungle again. After a few minutes the path opened into a small clearing. There a vine cat was waiting for them. It growled when they stepped closer.

“Stay on this side, I‘ll distract the creature.” Arkeo’s lightsaber hummed. Red light reflected off the eyes of the beast. He gave her a telling glance. “If you needed any proof this was all your doing, here it is.”

Iolith stared at the blade. She had seen Arkeo fight. The blade of his lightsaber had been blue. She had watched her siblings and other Sith fight so often, all their blades had been red. So red was the color her mind intuitively assigned to a lightsaber. She hoped this didn’t pose any problems, but there was no time to inquire.

Arkeo hurried along the edge of the trees to circle the animal. Once he was behind it he made a gesture with his hand and accompanied it with a shout. The beast turned at once and jumped to attack the Jedi. Arkeo’s lightsaber flashed and the cat retreated with a howl. Before it could engage again, Arkeo waved his free hand in an upward motion and clumps of dirt rose from the ground to form a barrier around him. The vine cat snarled.

The Jedi addressed Iolith. “You need to kill it yourself!”

“And how am I supposed to do that? I don’t have any Force abilities. Do you want me to strangle it with my bare hands?”

The cat turned its head towards her, but Arkeo prodded it with his saber until it concentrated on him again.

“It’s still your illusion, so maybe you could, but why don’t you get a familiar weapon.” Arkeo dodged the creatures paws. He maneuvered himself back in his former position, the animal facing away from Iolith.

Iolith searched the underbrush next to her. She grabbed a stick poking out of a bush. When she hit a tree the stick broke apart. Yes, right, home, dead wood decomposed rapidly. Her illusion, Arkeo had said. What did that entail? Iolith had no idea what to do and how to do it. She wrung her hands as she stared at the fight in front of her. She tried to think of a blaster, or at least a vibroknife. “You know, you could have warned me before we did this.” There was a slight pitch in her voice.

Between several thrusts at his adversary Arkeo found the time to answer her. “You are right. A mirialan would have known. The ritual’s flow was so easy, I forgot I am not at home. I am sorry if I frightened you.”

“Who said I was frightened? Looks like you have everything under control over there.” ‘Worried’ was the word she would have used instead.

The vine cat howled in anger. “Yes, me and your negative emotions, we get along well here.” The Jedi seemed to have some sense of humor. “Concentrate. Do you have a favorite weapon? What does it look like? Conjure the feeling of what it feels like to hold it.”

She ignored the fight, closed her eyes and concentrated. Like before in the cabin she breathed slowly in and out. She imagined Arkeo’s golden glow and let herself float in it. What did it feel like to be armed? It had been a while, even longer since she had used a sniper rifle regularly, but that was what came to her mind.

Like every other student she had received her own weapon at the academy. Standard equipment, not bad—they trained the best, so bad would not do—but not top equipment either. It had been her personal goal to improve it as far as possible. Every credit she had to spare went into the weapon. First she traded in dessert rations, later in favors of all kinds—all part of her training as she saw it. Her father would have been furious had he learned how she got the best scope the academy’s armory had to offer. Making sure he didn’t find out was as well part of the training as making the quartermaster forget the risk. She was a natural, and her skills in manipulation had been trained since earliest childhood as a Force blind in a Sith household on top of that. Hard work brought her talent with the rifle to its full potential. Countless hours spent at the firing range made her one of the best shots the academy had seen.

The recollection of all components was easy. Disassembling, cleaning and reassembling would be still routine, she’d be able to do it blindfolded. She imagined the rifle’s weight strapped over her shoulder. The feeling became palpable. She dropped into a crouch, opened her eyes, and took the rifle from her back. With the same motion she switched off the safety, raised the gun to her shoulder, and aimed. The rest was routine, ingrained through all those hours of training. She adjusted her position. Her breath became steady. She watched the vine cat through the sights, followed its movements. When she had a clear shot at the animal’s heart, she took it. Her finger squeezed the trigger, she felt the weapon’s recoil. The familiar movement didn’t surprise her. She readjusted in a heartbeat, and fired a second shot.

The vine cat froze, stood still for a moment, and slumped down. Before its head touched the ground the whole beast dissolved into mist and evaporated.

All that remained in her sights was the Jedi. What would happen if she shot him?

Arkeo deactivated his lightsaber, not in the slightest concerned. “Nice shot. I was sure you would be able to conjure your weapon!”

Iolith lowered the rifle. It felt good to hold it in her hands. “Can we stay a bit longer? Hunt more of these?”

“I assume you’re feeling well then?” Arkeo smiled as he stepped towards her.

She strapped the rifle to her back. Now that he had asked her she realized that she was indeed feeling much better than before. “Yes, it’s amazing. The negative emotions from before, they are gone. I feel—lighter.” She danced around him once, laughing. “Thank you!”

He took her hands when she was back in front of him. “You’re welcome!”

Their hands between them, she stepped into his intimate space. “So, is there any other prey beside you?”

“I fear we’ve accomplished what we came for.” His wink was impish. “Alas, I don’t think I am suited for being your prey. You are probably used to something far more challenging.”

Iolith’s eyes glittered with mischief. “Oh, by now I am sufficiently bored to be content with a Jedi.”

Arkeo kissed her hand and leaned forward to whisper into her ear. “I am all yours.” In the blink of an eye he let go of her hands, spun, sprinted to the edge of the forest and vanished in the shadows. She heard his faint call. “If you catch me.”

Mirdthestrill: Re: Turning Point – That might be the one thing about the Sith I like, not being afraid to point out (brutally, sometimes) where someone needs to grow. The responsible masters are good at it, like you wrote it there, making students aware without breaking them down. That was well done.

Frauzet: Re: The Jedi & The Spy – Can I just, for a sec… I LOVE it when other characters throw off Jedi. It just gives me the heartiest giggle. We have all this canon that says they’re just stone cold whatever, so I just dig when they have an awkward moment. But then isn’t it funny, too, how sad Jedi seem (Consulars especially, I think) when someone’s trying to distract themselves with, erm, some of the ‘baser’ instincts?

OMG PHILOSOPHY I could carry on all day. I love the conversation. I especially love Arkeo’s comments about his religion, it struck a chord with me very personally.

And he's a TEASE. Lil bit. Anyway. I LOVE THESE TWO. More of this!

Ka’van and Wilks entered the hangar in time to see Jax rushing down the ramp, followed closely by his crew.

“Colonel Robert Wilks…..as much as I despise you, I’m glad you’re safe,” Jax sighed his relief at seeing his former superior officer with the Jedi, the former wisely staying silent as the Cathar’s piercing blue eyes held his for a moment before turning towards the Jedi, “I owe you big time for this, Ka’van. Zev should be touching down any minute, so we can chat with the good Colonel about his deal with Bradley and how he’s going to clean up the mess he made of our careers.”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something, my friend, but chatting with the Colonel may have to wait,” Ka’van replied gravely, “We have other pressing matters to deal with for now.”

“Did something happen? Where’s Qyzen?”

“I sent him back to the club,” Ka’van began, pausing as they heard booted feet running in the corridor. A moment later, three men appeared in the main doorway.

“Master Jedi,” the tan Zabrak bowed when he got to them, “Thank you for your quick assistance. From what I gather, Wilks was about to permanently disappear. Colonel, glad you could make it, but you’ll forgive me for not saluting the man responsible for most of this.”

“There’s trouble still, Zev,” Jax warned, nodding at Ka’van, “So what’s going on? Why’d you send Qyzen back?”

“To watch over your pretty agent friend,” Ka’van answered, “Those men were there by the time Qyzen and I arrived, but they had no idea Wilks was in the corner booth thanks to Natalia’s quick thinking. We stayed for a little while, watching the show and chatting like we were old friends, then the three of us left. When we passed the table those men were sitting at, I caught their thoughts and they weren’t good.”

“Is Natalia in trouble?” Zev asked, seeing Aric tense up out of the corner of his eye, “Did they figure out who she is?”

“No,” Kavan shook his head, “They only know her as Naula and believe she’s a dancer.”

“Then why’s she in trouble?” Aric spoke up, an edge to his voice that Zev could sympathesize with.

“Like they did with Jax, they needed to find a way to lure you out, Major,” Ka’van explained, “Natalia got Zara off the grid before they could get her, but they’d already been looking for someone to use against you. Your family is under heavy security due to your father’s old military connections so they decided to use one of your squad mates since you see them as family, or in Elara Dorne’s case, more. In fact, they intended to use her originally.”

“That’s impossible,” Tanno’s gravelly voice insisted, “No way is some hit man gonna snatch one of us, I don’t care how skilled they are. Spec Forces don’t play around.”

“and neither do these men. They weren’t going to try and take on Havoc….” Ka’van argued, then the tall Jedi suddenly trailed off, clutching his chest as his heart began to race.

“Master Jedi!” Zev shouted, grabbing Ka’van’s arm to keep him from falling. Jax aiding him a second later.

“Her heart’s racing……fear…..fight or flight,” Ka’van gritted, trying to isolate his connection to the force sensitive agent so he could sever the ties to their physical systems.

“Natalia?”

“Yes, I connected to her with the Force so we could communicate in the club……takes a while for the connection to break and ours is unusually strong given her secret little talent. The connection is causing my body systems to mimic hers and she’s in serious trouble.”

Just then Ka’van’s and Zev’s coms went off, the latter shouting out to Vik when he spotted his XO getting ready to take off, “Aric, don’t! Grab him Vik!”

“I’m not going to let those bastards hurt her,” Aric growled as his claws came out, “Let go of me Vik or I swear I’ll tear your a** into pieces!” Bowdaar and Akaavi went over to help the Weequay with the struggling Cathar.

Zev and Ka’van answered their coms and the images of Jonas Balkar and Qyzen appeared respectively.

“Agent Bryce got a message out to me about ten minutes ago,” Jonas spoke up first, “She said she’s a target now. I getting some backup when I got a call from a bouncer at the club saying Naula instructed him to call me if something happened to her. Apparently she never came back from break and those men are gone. I tried to contact the ship, but Elara and Yuun said you were heading for Jax’s hanger already. I hope Wilks is enough because I’m officially pulling her from this assignment and as soon as I find her, she’s going into a safehouse. I’m heading to the Red Light Sector now with a couple of agents now to see if we can figure out what happened and where she’s headed. We’re in civ clothes to keep her cover intact, but armed just in case.”

“She was attacked in the back alley,” Qyzen informed them, “Other hunters tried to grab her, she fought, killed one, on the run now. Picked up trail and I follow.”

“What did you see, Qyzen?”

“Dead Human male, small robe pooled by the door…..still warm, had her scent. Fight very recent, happened only a few minutes ago. See bloody footprints, about her size and spread apart……says she runs. No sign of other hunters, so they give chase.”

“Can you tell if she’s injured?” Zev asked, seeing the stricken look on his XO’s face.

“Blood on robe smells same as dead man,” Qyzen answered, “Other blood not Human. Her footsteps appear normal, no staggering pattern or other indicators that she’s hurt.”

“Thanks Qyzen,” Ka’van told the Trandoshan, “Keep me informed and good hunting.”

“I’ll continue on to the club and see if I can get that bouncer to get me access to a camera feed,” Jonas told them, “If Natalia is able, she’ll follow protocol and set off one of the signal beacons we have planted all over Nar Shaddaa. I’ll let you know as soon as one lights up.”

“Sounds like a plan, Jonas,” Zev nodded, “We’ll work on going after these men as soon as we get a lock on their location.”

“I…..am…..not…..going …..to ……sit …..here…..and……wait!” Aric raged, finally breaking Vik’s hold on him and, shoving his squad mate away only to get blocked by Bowdaar and Akaavi.

“That’s enough!” Ka’van’s voice rang out, deadly calm as he finally regained control of his racing heart, “You’re not going anywhere, Captain.”

“With all due respect, Master Jedi,” Aric spat, “You can f*ck off. I’m going after her.”

“And that’s exactly what they want, idiot!” Ka’van shot back, “Since they didn’t dare try and take on Havoc directly, they intended to lure one of you out. Elara Dorne was their first choice, but they couldn’t get to her brother without drawing suspicion, so they had to go with the next best thing, which is you. You’re Zev’s good friend and his XO.”

“Natalia was supposed to draw Aric out?” Corso mused, “Why would they think that?”

“They can’t possibly…….” Aric whispered, a cold feeling settling in his gut as something occurred to him that Ka’van confirmed a second later.

“When you took that drop last week, they were there. By an unfortunate coincidence, they left a few minutes after you did and when they passed by the alley, they saw you kissing her.”

“Well, I don’t give a womprat’s hairy a** if they try to take me,” Aric growled, “I’m going after her and…….what the hell?!”

“No,” Ka’van stated simply, his palm extended towards the Cathar now struggling against an invisible barrier, “You’re not. Now try and think with your head and not your heart for a minute. Don’t make me take your furry a** out because that will be one less person we have to get her to safety. I haven’t seen a more skilled tracker than Qyzen and he’s on her trail.”

“I can’t…..” Aric protested, still struggling against Ka’van’s Force block.

“Look, I know you care deeply about her,” Ka’van sighed, “Your emotions are pouring off you right now, but you need to push past that and think like the soldier you are. First though, I strongly suggest we get the Colonel off planet now.”

“I agree with Master Ka’van. We don’t want to take a chance of those men figuring out we have Wilks so we need to get him out of here now. You take him, Jax,” Zev suggested, “Get him on your ship and as soon as you’re fueled up, take off……I don’t care where you go, but I’d err on the side of caution and at least get away from Hutt space.”

“I hate to leave when Natalia’s in trouble,” Jax protested.

“I know that, Jax, but she risked a lot to keep Wilks safe and get him to us,” Zev countered, “Don’t make it for nothing. I’ll contact you after we deal with this.”

“And I’m not going anywhere, my friend,” Ka’van assured him, “I sent a message to Tharan and he’s waiting for us in his office, keeping in touch with Qyzen and preparing.”

“I can leave some of my crew behind…..”

“No, Jax,” Zev shook his head, “I’d feel better knowing the six of you were watching over Wilks and Dek would agree.”

“Let me know as soon as she’s safe,” Jax nodded as Corso and Akaavi took Wilks on board, “I’ll call Dek once I’m in space and bring him up to speed.”

Zev’s com went off before he could reply and Elara’s image appeared, “Trouble, sir!”

“Talk to me, Elara.”

“Approximately five minutes after you, Jorgan, and Vik left, a group of men attacked the hanger,” Elara answered.

“Dammit,” Zev cursed, swallowing down the old fears threatening to choke him at the thought of something happening to his squad or the woman he loved, “Are you and Yuun alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Elara assured him, a cheeky smile curving her lips, “Apparently they were prepared to take Yuun and I, but unfortunately for them, they weren’t prepared for Forex.”

“Evil heathens trying to attack the noble forces of the Republic,” the massive wardroid cried out, “It grinds my gears and I made them regret their stupidity, sir.”.

“Please tell me he left one alive,” Aric snarled menacingly, the feral look on his face enough to make even the Jedi back off a little.

“Eight dead, two severely wounded and detained,” Elara confirmed, “I had security lock down the hanger until further notice.”

“We’re on our way, Elara,” Zev told her, the fear dissipating with the knowledge she was safe as he turned to Jax and Risha, “Jax, if you have enough fuel, take off now!”

“We do,” Risha nodded, grasping Jax’s hand to lead the stubborn Cathar back to his ship, “Come on, Captain…..we need to get out while the getting is good.”

“Keep me posted, Zev,” Jax called out as he and Risha retreated up the ramp, “and make those bastards pay!”

@Frauzet- Looks like Iolith is charming another person. Jedi therapy is pretty awesome, much more interesting than sitting in a chair and talking about your life. I like that we're getting to see a little more of your jedi guys.

“You might be astonished how many problems can be solved with sex.”

 

Now it was his time to smirk. “Problems that without sex could have been avoided in the first place?”

Nice, that one made me laugh.

@Alaurin- love Jorgan going ballistic when he finds out about Natalia. Very in-character for him. The plot thickens!

I did notice one spot where Qyzen's accent/vocal patterns slipped for a line or two, but nothing major.

The sun rose over the mountains, throwing its pale light over the encampment at their base. A cluster of tents, perhaps twenty, stood in a clearing around a trio of smoldering fire pits. Two Mandalorians, one a human male around thirty-five and the other helmeted but obviously female stood near them, talking in low tones. Two more armored figures patrolled the outer edge of the camp.

In one of the larger tents, Amurri Hayne pinned back the door flap and called softly to the sleeping figures on the floor. “The sun’s up, ade. Time to get up.” She was human and perhaps thirty standard years old, with dark tan skin, thick, mid-length black hair pulled into a practical tail, and dark brown eyes. Her blue armor was dented and pitted from years of use and an old scar ran down one cheek.

The four children piled together on the ground responded at varying speeds. Almost immediately, Vys, a boy of about eight sat up and shoved his hair out of his eyes, revealing the distinctive red skin and facial tendrils of a Sith Pureblood. “What’s for breakfast?” he said brightly as he crawled out of his sleeping bag.

“Haven’t decided yet,” Amurri replied, bending over to check on another child, this one a blue-skinned boy about five years old. “Fornir, wake up.” He grunted and reluctantly opened his eyes. Standing up, she crossed to the oldest, a miniature copy of herself with raggedly cut hair, who lay curled up in a ball in an appropriately sized set of armor painted a rusty orange color and nudged her with her boot. “Khati, you too.”

“Five more minutes,” the girl muttered. She had insisted on sleeping in only her armor last night, ‘like a real warrior’.

“If you don’t get up now, the patrol will leave without you.”

“Huh…? Oh, right!” The girl jumped up, revealing eyes similar in shape to her mother’s, but a brilliant, distinctive gold color and raced out of the tent. A moment later, she reappeared, grabbed a helmet and slightly-too-large-for-her blaster rifle from next to where she had lay, and dashed outside again.

Shaking her head, Amurri opened a crate and dug out several cans of food. “Why can’t I go too?” said Vys.

“Maybe next time,” Amurri muttered absently. “Can you take your brother to go get some more wood for the fire?”

“Elek, buir.”

“What do you want me to do?” asked a soft female voice. Amurri turned to see her fourth child, nine-year-old Soriah standing next to her. As usual, she had managed to slip up unnoticed.

“Would you get me a bucket of water from the river, please?” She nodded. “Thank you.” Amurri watched her go. The Cathar was unlike her other three children: quiet, gentle, bookish. She followed along with their Mandalorian lifestyle, but didn’t seem to take any pleasure in it. Perhaps she should talk to her husband about it. If Ryken had noticed it too, he might have some insight to offer.

But for now, she had more pressing matters to attend to. Breakfast wouldn’t make itself, and afterword she would have to pack their belongings on the speeders. They were moving camp as soon as the patrol returned. Going back into her tent, Amurri began chopping sausages for the morning meal.

Perhaps a quarter of an hour later, Vys came tearing back into the camp, woodless, half-dragging Fornir behind him. “Khati’s in trouble!” he shouted as soon as he was in earshot.

“What is it?” Amurri said worriedly. Her eldest two children had an intuition that she had never quite been able to understand, but their hunches were almost always correct, so she had learned to listen to them.

“I don’t know. But something’s wrong. And it’s not just her.”

“Your buir is with her, I’m sure he’ll radio if-“

Amurri broke off as one of the camp guards shouted an alarm. She looked up to see them coming over the trees:

five Imperial bombers. A moment later, several dozen troops burst from the trees.

In an instant, Amurri knew the camp was doomed. The troops they could defeat easily, but the bombers would destroy the camp as easily as a glass sculpture. “Vys,” she said, grabbing his shoulder. “Take your brother and sister and hide in the woods. Don’t come back here. If I survive, I’ll come and find you.” There was no point in lying to him about their odds.

“What about Khati?”

“I don’t know. But you have to find Soriah and get out of here, now.” She unholstered one of her blasters and thrust it into his hand, along with the can of fruit she had been holding. “Hurry.”

Vys nodded and ran into the maze of tents, away from the oncoming soldiers and towards the relative safety of the thick forest. Amurri drew her remaining blaster and took aim at the nearest of the troops. They had probably encountered the patrol first, she knew. But her other children were safe, and before long, she would see her husband and daughter in the manda. She took another shot as the first of the bombs shook the ground.

Khati’s head hurt. Why was that? She knew, she just couldn’t recall. She had been on patrol with Buir, and then the Empire- The Empire! She had to get back, had to warn the camp. Trying to sit up, she found she was already sitting, arms outstretched and half-numb. It was completely dark. Although she still wore her armor, her helmet and weapons were gone, and something was wrapped around her torso, keeping her from moving. The ground vibrated slightly, like someone was running a landspeeder nearby.

Footsteps. A crack of light appeared as a door opened about three meters in front of her. The next moment, a dull light filled the room and she saw a man about Buir’s age standing in front of her, wearing an Imperial uniform. They were in a room with pipes running along one wall and grease stains on the floor. Some sort of maintenance access or something. Her back was pressed up against a metal grating and someone had wound metal cabling through it and around her body and arms over and over again, pinning them.

The man squatted in front of her. He looked quiet and gentle, but felt dark and cold inside. Khati looked him straight in the eye. “Hello,” he said in Basic. She ignored him. “I’m glad to see you’re awake. Stun weapons are unpredictable, especially on people your size.”

So it was a stun weapon, then. “You’re probably wondering what’s going on. My name is Renessler, and I’m the one who stopped them from killing you.”

“Where’s my clan? What happened to my family?” A sick feeling told Khati what she needed to know already, but she had to make sure.

“We killed them all. You’d have gone to join them in whatever afterlife you people believe in, but trained fighters of your age, captured alive, are something of a rarity. You’ll be quite valuable in the right places. I have a contact with the Hutts who’s interested already.”

Khati closed her eyes and bit her tongue to keep from sobbing.

Drayke Lucian inspected the remains of the Mandalorian encampment in the half-dusk. It didn’t look like anyone else had found this place yet, which was surprising. He guessed that it was remote enough that no one had noticed. He’d camp here tonight and in the morning he could search for anything worth salvaging. Who knew, there might be some Mandalorian iron or even a partial armor set. He felt a little disrespectful, rummaging through the site of so many deaths like this, but what else could he do? He was behind on his loan payments, and the Hutts wouldn’t wait forever to come collecting.

Running his fingers through his fur, he started walking. Might as well have a look around before it got too dark. The Empire had really done a number on this place. Debris lay scattered around and char marks were half-covered with newly fallen snow.

As he approached one of the larger piles, he heard a noise. He stopped. There it was again. It sounded like a voice. Were those words? Drayke looked for the source of the sound.

It came from what he at first thought was part of the wreckage. But when he approached, it moved and a pair of eyes looked up at him. “Gaa’tayl,” the being said weakly.

“Do you speak basic?”

“Please help. I’m stuck.” The voice was female, and not all that old.

“Of course. Show me what I need to move.” She pointed, and he threw his weight onto the damaged speeder

body, shifting it enough so the girl could scoot out.

“Thank you,” she said. Now that she was out of the shadow of the pile, he could see that she was a Cathar like himself, with matted cream-colored fur and reddish-brown hair. “Where is everyone? What happened to my

family?”

Drayke’s heart sank. She must have been part of the Mandalorian clan that had been camped here. “They’re-

they’re gone. They’re dead.”

“What? No!” The girl staggered to her feet, half-ran a few steps on unsteady legs, looked around wildly, and

collapsed to the ground, shaking with sobs.

Drayke approached her slowly, wondering what he should do. She probably had no family now, and she was obviously injured. She wouldn’t last long out here. You can’t take her with you, Drayke. You barely have enough

money to feed yourself and keep your ship going. What are you going to do with a kid? It would just be for a few days, he promised himself. Just until he could find some of her relatives or another good place for her to live. “It’s alright,” he murmured, picking her up as gently as he could. “It’s alright, I’m here.”

Vys was starving. All he had managed to catch in the last three days was one little furry creature, and he had given most of it to Fornir. He knew giving him raw meat was probably a bad idea, but he couldn’t make a fire without the chance of being spotted and he didn’t know if any of the plants they had found were safe to eat. At least they had enough water. The stream they had been staying next to was cold, but the water was good.

His parents and sisters were dead, he knew. They would have found him by now if they hadn’t been. Before long, they would have to find another place to live. “Where’s Buir?” Fornir asked for the fiftieth time.

“She’ll be here soon,” he promised. “I’m going hunting. Stay here until I get back.”

“No!” his brother wailed. “Don’t leave!”

“I have to. You’re hungry, aren’t you?” Vys shook him off his leg and started out of the clearing.

“Don’t leave!” He turned back. Fornir stood in the center of the open patch, shaking with cold, red eyes filling with tears. “I’m scared.”

Vys sighed. “Alright. Lets go.”

They tromped through the snowy woods hand in hand, searching for anything that might be edible. Fornir was making enough racket that Vys knew he would never catch anything. He was just about to take him back to their hideout when he heard a noise in the distance. He stopped. “Hold still,” he hissed. Fornir froze.

Were those voices he heard in the distance? And they were coming closer. Vys strained to make out the words. “-Nearby,” said a deep male voice.

“Are you sure they’re not hostile?” This man was wearing a helmet, he had heard that slightly-processed sound most of his life.

Vys drew his mother’s blaster. He wasn’t sure how many people were coming, but he couldn’t slip away with Fornir in tow, and if they were from the Empire, he would have to shoot his way out.

A few minutes later, they came in sight through the trees: four men in white armor, not mando’ade, and one in plain brown robes. They stopped in surprise. “We don’t want to hurt you,” said the robed one. “You can put down your blaster.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

The man removed a cylinder from his belt and set it slowly down on the ground. “I swear I mean you no harm.”

A jetii? Vys had never met one before, but buir had always told him to stay away from them. They were strange people, she said, and didn’t trust the mando’ade. But what other choice did he have? His hands were shaking so hard he could barely hold the blaster steady, and his stomach had stopped hurting a long time ago. Besides, he had a hunch that he could trust this man. He lowered the blaster. “Can you help us?”

Mandalorian translations (courtesy of mandoa.org):

ade- children, sons, daughters

Eleck, buir- yes, mom

buir- father/mother, a gender neutral term. For some reason, I find this confusing as heck to work with

manda- the collective soul or heaven in this use

gaa'tayl- help

jetti- jedi

Even though I just invented her for the purpose of this story, I actually got rather attached to Amurri and was sorry I had to kill her. I made up for it by naming a Skyrim character after her

I wanted this legacy to include some more definite connections between its members, but I also wanted the chance to use a wider variety of species. I've always had a thing for Mandalorians, and their penchant for adoption gave me a decent excuse for having a family composed of three humans, a chiss, a cathar, and a sith pureblood.

In case you're wondering, Vys is pronounced like Vis than Byes, if that makes sense. And yes, it is short for something, although I haven't decided what yet. All I can think of is Viserys, and that's obviously not right Also, Fornir does have a formal Chiss name, but no one in his clan really uses it.