@Mirdthestrill: Ack....my feels! That was a fantastic, yet gut wrenching beginning to your new legacy! I feel so bad for those poor kids.

@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.

I can only assume right now that Mirdthestrill and Alaurin are in cahoots trying to make me cry with every new entry. Well played, friends, well played.

In the dimly lit crew quarters, the Cathar lay in his bunk, tossing and turning instead sleeping as he needed to be. Along with the god awful racket coming from the bunk above him, Aric’s mind was occupied with a multitude of thoughts and feelings keeping him awake, none of which were bad by any means. On the contrary, he hadn’t been able to stop smiling all day and in order to avoid pointed questions or remarks, he ended up keeping his helmet on for much of it……not that he wanted it off very much on the frozen rock they’d spent the better part of the day traipsing around. Even the cold hadn’t gotten to him really, thoughts of his blushing CO and the things they’d done last night were enough to keep his blood thoroughly heated.

He’d been wanting to kiss her for months and now that he’d finally crossed that threshold, he wanted to do it again…..and again. It’s all he could think about whenever they weren’t engaged in combat. How she felt in his arms, the little pleasure noises she made as their eager hands explored. That sweet scent, the light citrus and spice of her lotion combined with a heady musk that was uniquely hers, he’d been forced to wash off when Dorne’s interruption caused him to need an ice cold shower last night. Then again this morning when he gave her the necklace for her birthday after the rest of the squad had left. They ended up kissing again until her sister called to check in and tease Mallay about what she suspected was going on.

The teasing didn’t bother him really, but Mallay tended to be on the shy side where intimate things were concerned and he didn’t want that to scare her off. He preferred to keep his intimate life private as well, especially considering they’d be pushing the boundaries of a few regs if they ended up getting romantically involved. A year ago, he wouldn’t have even considered it…….then again, a year ago he was a Lieutenant back on Ord Mantell, a career soldier who was singularly focused on being the best he could be as he rose through the ranks. A year ago he’d never fallen for a girl the way he had with Mallay. Sure, he’d had his share of physical relationships in the past, but nothing more than a mutual affair between two consenting adults and never anything long lasting. His career was his life and he went wherever it took him. Until a young, newly promoted Spec Forces Sergeant arrived and turned his world upside down. They butted heads constantly, but even then he couldn’t resist provoking her so he could see those blue eyes flash at him or that adorable blush creep across her cheeks. She certainly wasn’t the first officer he’d been attracted to and he hadn’t given it much of a thought until they found themselves as squad mates a week later.

That attraction only grew as he got to know her better those first few weeks. Her fierce inner strength, that keen mind, that snarky temper, how easy it was to get a rise out of her…….all of it endeared her to him, but he didn’t realize how bad he had it for her until Balkar started hitting on her the day Havoc arrived on Nar Shaddaa. He’d wanted to rip the smooth talking agent to shreds and much to his embarrassment, he’d actually snapped at him before he could help it. Luckily Mallay hadn’t caught on to his jealousy, but much to his annoyance both Balkar and Dorne did. He finally opened up to Corso their last day on the Hutt moon after the younger man admitted to being in love with Bella and just as unsure about it.

It wasn’t long after that conversation that Aric got a hint at just how bad Mallay’s past had been. He and Corso knew something bad had happened to that family at some point during their childhood, but neither had suspected the true horrors. Their first night on Tatooine, he and Corso had a few beers in the cantina while Bella, Risha, Mallay, and Elara were enjoying some girl time back on Bella’s ship. Apparently Corso had one too many and later let it slip to Bella that he was in love with her. This triggered Bella’s demons and a couple days later, she called Mallay in the middle of the night wanting to talk. When Mallay returned to the ship, she was drunk off her *** having tried to drown out her own demons and ended up blurting out some awful truths about what happened to her the day her father was killed. Aric had never wanted to kill a man as badly as he wanted to kill that Imperial who tried to rape her at the age of fifteen. Thanks to her Force sensitive twin sisters, that soldier never succeeded, but Mallay had shut herself down that day and was convinced she was broken after that because she felt nothing whenever a man touched her since.

It was then Aric realized he cared very deeply for Mallay, but knew he’d have to take things very slowly with her. Her shyness was easy to overcome, but she was also convinced she was ugly because she was short, thin, and heavily scarred on the left side of her face, shoulder, and back. He’d already told her on more than one occasion that she wasn’t ugly at all, made sure to drop a simple compliment on her appearance whenever the opportunity presented itself. He remembered that day she wore that skimpy little dancer outfit for a side mission they took back on Coruscant. She'd pretended to be a new girl at the club who was picking up her costume, but was forced to actually don it on when the owner showed up and asked her to start her shift right then. Aric had been shocked and extremely pleased at how quickly Mallay had tapped into the seductress inside of her to dance for him until the owner left. Then there was the time he and Corso had found the girls shopping on Carrick. They walked into the store to see Mallay dressed in a simple, yet elegant backless dress, eyes closed with the most radiant smile on her face as she pretended to be dancing with a partner. He wanted her to have that self assurance all the time because every second of every day she was beautiful.

Then there was Alderaan. A broad grin crossed his face as he recalled their missions there and how he proved she wasn’t broken at all. She’d been injured while they were rescuing the Thul ladies and due to a concussion, was unable to be sedated to treat her dislocated shoulder. She kept fighting Dorne so he tried a somewhat unorthodox method to get her to relax long enough for Elara to pop the shoulder back in. He only meant to divert her attention away from what Dorne was doing with a few seductive whispers and maybe brush his mouth teasingly along her neck, but ended up taking things a lot further when she responded quite favorably. That was his first peak at the very passionate woman that’d lain dormant inside his shy little CO, one he’d fully unleashed last night.

Before the Alderaan incident, she’d blush and mutter some snarky comment under her breath whenever he made any innuendo or provoked her, but after that, she turned into a stammering, clumsy, blushing, and completely adorable mess whenever he gave the slightest hint at anything suggestive. Dorne had been helpful when that worried him, saying it was perfectly normal reaction for a woman discovering those kinds of feelings for the first time. That was enough to give him hope and he stayed true to his course, taking things slow and steady. Holding himself back when all he wanted to do was tell her how he felt and show her there was nothing ugly or broken about her. But after the whole story of her father’s death on her fifteenth birthday finally came out last night, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

He was confident his feelings weren’t one sided, given her responses last night and this morning and the fact she’d been smiling and blushing whenever their eyes met during their grueling day. She too had kept her helm on for the most part, as well as a thick, fur lined fitted hood when the cold made her metal implant and scar tissue hurt. All day his fingers itched to simply touch her, his arms ached to hold her, and he desperately wanted to claim that tempting mouth with its natural pout every time he caught her biting her bottom lip……a habit she had whenever deep in thought and one that had driven him wild since Taris. But most of all, he wanted to tell her how much he’d come to love her.

Aric sighed, burying his face in the pillow, debating on whether he should stay there in his bunk with Vik’s snores echoing through the quarters, or if he should just get up and distract himself with a movie on the HoloVid. Then he heard a door open in the distance and he knew he wasn’t the only one wide awake. A smile crossed his face as he got up, shaking his head at the snoring Weequay he could barely make out with the dim glow of the floorlights.

***********

Mallay lay awake in her bed, smiling gently as she clutched the necklace she was still wearing, unable to bring herself to remove it. Heart kept skipping a beat every time she recalled the night before and this morning…..well all day in fact. That sexy voice telling her she was beautiful, those velvety soft hands on her skin……and those kisses. Oh could that man ever kiss! Anytime she felt cold while they were out assisting Sergeant Yuun on Hoth, all she had to do was recall those steamy kisses from last night and she felt hot enough to melt the frozen ground.

She’d never experienced these feelings before and those love struck heroines in her favorite novels didn’t even come close to describing what Mallay was experiencing right now……what falling in love felt like. Maybe that was her issue all along. Maybe she wasn’t broken…….she just needed her heart to be involved and know her partner’s was as well. Those other times had been purely physical, no real emotion for her. Her first time was simply to end her virginity with a friend before going off to the academy. That disastrous second time with a very attractive, yet shallow soldier in her unit that she thought was her friend until he got freaked out by the awful scars on her back. Then there was the third and final time……wanting to prove to herself that she wasn’t broken, but it turned out to be a drunken mistake on her part. However, last night, she finally knew what all those romance novels were talking about. She’d never felt so alive…..so wicked……so hot……and they really hadn’t gotten that far before she’d knocked that glass off the counter. Aric wasn’t the only one who needed a cold shower after Elara woke up to investigate the noise, she’d had one herself and even that wasn’t enough to cool the fire completely. She’d fallen asleep still feeling warm and tingly inside, then dreamt of him instead of the usual birthday nightmares.

All day on that frigid ice box of a planet, she was grinning like an idiot anytime he caught her eye and she was sure the others noticed. Bella had certainly gotten in a fair share of teasing when they’d met up on the orbital station. There were also little things like his hand hanging on to hers for a lingering moment when he’d grasped it to keep her from falling after she slipped on an ice patch or his soft growl of pleasure when she absently ran her fingers through the fur on his back after tending to a minor wound he’d gotten during Havoc’s assault on the Crescent Canyon Research Station to get information out of the Imperial database.

All day she kept examining their time together since the day she’d arrived on Ord Mantell and walked into the Republic Military Headquarters in Fort Garnik to meet her squad……and ultimately the man who would change her life. She snorted as memories of that first meeting surfaced and if anyone would’ve told her she’d end up being completely gaga for the arrogant Cathar, she would’ve laughed in their face and suggested psychiatric help. However, she couldn’t help but notice how attractive she found him and that grew over time. They still butted heads, and he always knew how to push her buttons, but he also was there for her…..from carrying her to their suite on Coruscant after the food poisoning incident and putting lotion on her burn scars when no one else was around to do it, to staying with her when nightmares plagued her or letting her know he was there if she ever needed to talk, not to mention all the times he’d assured her she was anything but ugly.

She admired and respected him for accepting his new post when many would’ve demanded a full inquiry, made a stink, or outright resigned after being treated like he was after the top brass burned him over Tavus’ treachery. Sure he’d been plenty angry over his demotion and being assigned to someone new to a leadership role……someone he obviously didn’t think was up to the job. She couldn’t blame him for that, but in the end, he accepted things and they fell into a grudging partnership after an explosive confrontation Mallay provoked to clear the air. He’d taken the time to give her tips and advice in those first weeks since she hadn’t had the officer training or experience he’d had. She’d come to value his opinion and his friendship, but when feelings beyond that began to surface, she kept them to herself……always afraid of rocking the boat by taking things to the next level. For one thing, it was against regs, but most of all, she was worried about what would happen if she felt nothing when he tried to touch her like those other men.

Despite her resolve to keep those feelings bottled in, that romantic part of her was drawn to him more and more each day and even the practical side of her began to yearn for the courage to take a chance. Oddly enough, it was a strange incident that made her question her theory she was somehow broken. She’d been injured on Alderaan and thanks to a concussion there was a brief period of a few hours that her memory was fuzzy at best. However, she woke the next morning after a rather steamy dream about Aric and she felt as if it were almost real. In her dream, she’d felt plenty when he touched her and hadn't wanted him to stop......but she couldn't remember why he did. Her body seemed to remember it as if it'd really happened because whenever she tried to recall the dream, her neck felt sensitive as if he'd actually kissed her. Then she literally bumped into him and he’d reached out to keep her from falling. The moment he touched her, her body came alive with sensations she’d never experienced before and she was reduced to a babbling, incoherent idiot. After that, anytime he touched her or spoke to her in a certain tone…..that sexy bedroom voice being her favorite, she ached for more and for the first time, she thought there might be hope she’d finally get to find out what intimacy with a man truly felt like.

Now that Aric had taken that first step by kissing her last night, Mallay couldn’t imagine ever going back to a normal friendship with him. She wanted to explore that nicely shaped body, take her time savoring the feel of soft fur covering firm muscle as she discovered more ways to coax those low growls of pleasure from him over and over again. She’d found a couple in their short time together last night. She wanted be in his arms, share more of those knee weakening passionate kisses that would forever be burned into her very soul. She wanted to make love with him, experience all those wonderful things with him, and wake up next to him in the morning. Most of all, she wanted to take the plunge and tell him she’d fallen in love with him. She didn’t care about the regs, and had subtly checked with Elara about what the actual protocols were. Judging from the knowing look on her medic’s face, Mallay figured she wasn’t really fooling the other woman, but Elara didn’t call her on it and much to her relief, there really wasn’t anything specifically saying outright that she couldn’t have a romantic relationship with Aric, just that it was discouraged.

With a sigh, Mallay finally gave up on the notion of sleep and got out of bed, slipping on a pale silk robe and grabbing her datapad before leaving her quarters. She decided to read in the rec area, hoping the change of scenery and a favorite novel would help settle her nerves so she could get some rest before facing another cold day on Hoth.

Aric found her in the rec room, that lithe little body pacing restlessly as she fingered the necklace he’d given her, a dreamy look on her face. He watched her for a moment as she paused, a little concerned after noting that her waist length tresses were disheveled and he hoped it wasn’t nightmares disturbing her sleep again. Her movements didn’t seem agitated though, so he relaxed as she turned to face his current position.

“You like it?” he called out softly from the doorway.

A flush came over her skin as she met that bright green gaze, “Very much……it’s beautiful,” she answered, feeling a fluttery nervousness in her belly, “I didn’t want to take it off just yet……I know, silly right? Shouldn’t sleep in jewelry really……or wear it under my armor because something could happen to it but I wanted to because you gave it to me and made my birthday happy for the first time in nine years……and I liked having it with me today……” Mallay let her babbling trail off, silently cursing herself for sounding like such a moron in front of him.

“I’m glad,” Aric nodded, feeling a little nervous excitement of his own as that familiar blush he loved caressed her cheeks. He noticed her hands fidgeting a little and he wondered what she was thinking, “So…..uh….can’t sleep?” Real smooth there Jorgan, he inwardly winced at how dense he sounded.

“No,” she admitted shyly, a warmth spreading through her when he stepped towards her, “You?”

“No……Vik’s snoring again, but that’s not really why though.”

“What is?” she asked, her voice shaking a little as she dared to hope she was the reason. Just once she wanted to cause that kind of reaction in a man, and not just any man…..him. Her squad mate, a seasoned soldier whom she’d butted heads with for a week when they first met. Her superior officer back then, until he was demoted and forced under her inexperienced command. The one and only man that inspired feelings in her she never thought possible after what happened to her nine years ago. The man she was hopelessly head over heels in love with.

Aric’s heart was racing as he swallowed his nerves and took the plunge, “You. I’ve been thinking about you all day, Mallay. Holding you. Kissing you. The way your skin felt……your scent. Remembering every precious second when we were alone last night and this morning. Wanting to do it all again…..and again. Hoping you felt the same…..”

“I do,” Mallay whispered, her heart soaring as what she was sure was her goofiest grin yet curved her lips.

“…..and scared that you didn’t and that I blew it by crossing the line,” Aric continued, her soft admission not registering yet, “I know it goes against regs for us to get involved, but I don’t care about that…..not anymore. I know you do though and I don’t want to do anything to hurt you or push you too far considering what you’ve been through, but I can’t hold back what I feel anymore because I’m crazy in love with you and……..wait, did you just say you felt the same?”

“I did,” Mallay smiled, a nervous giggle bubbling out as he closed the distance between them. Then she took her own plunge, “and I’m in love with you too.”

“Thank the stars,” Aric murmured as he gently captured her mouth in a kiss they’d been waiting all day for, a sweet celebration of new found romance. Both novels and movies were forgotten as they were once again swept away by passionate feelings and emotions no longer held in check.

@alaurin, of course I see you in other venues. It’s fun seeing Kitar’s character mix it up with yours. I really like Qyzen Fess’s progress – tracking is one thing he would shine at. Have I ever mentioned Mallay/Jorgan squee? Because squeee.

@h_weber, Inquisitors get a mordant sense of humor and I love seeing how people show it.

@Mirdthestrill, seeing how parents would react to their perfectly normal daughter haring off in a potentially dangerous line of business…good scene. Meanwhile I could just feel Karanni’s frustration that even Kiarn should have gotten out before she did. The Haynes get set up quite effectively, differences and all, and all without any opening infodump.

@BenduKundalini, I love seeing a distinctive voice, and Deckaard delivers! Also the BH commodity usage list is great, and scarily realistic.

@Mrtwo, unusual alien race you picked. I wonder what meals would satisfy him.

@AKHadeed, I liked Cha’tiro’yun’s inoffensive cover and its inability to save him from the whims of Sith.

@frauzet, good to see the continuation of Andronikas’ story. Also fun to see Rufuro and Ciner as two young Sith compare notes. They’re both arrogant. They both pretty much earn it.

“It’s your mind, your illusion. I have never seen its like.”

The intimacy this suggests is wonderful.

@Charmedseed, I am a sucker for a Lord Scourge story. Absolute sucker. All the better when it so neatly ties together an OC and Scourge’s in-game lines and manipulations.

@Hadeedak, I really, really like the notion of an obsidian (or close to it) saber blade.

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.

Practical – and intriguing as to his existing resources. I like it.

December, 8 ATC – 2.5 years before the confirmation of the Wrath

“There’s one more thing I need to teach you before you’re ready for Korriban.”

Ruth set her practice blade back on the rack out of reach of the Dromund Kaas drizzle and gently let go her Force focus, turning her attention to her father. “What’s that?”

“Something I’ve been delaying for seventeen years because I couldn’t figure out how to teach it.” Colran’s smile started wry and ended sad. “I believe it’s not the right solution to most things. But it may someday save your life. Use it responsibly, Ruthie. Or, better, avoid using it at all.”

“Don’t use it. But you’re teaching me anyway?”

Colran’s features clouded, but to his credit he didn’t take his grey eyes from her blue. “It may save your life.”

“What is it?”

“A…mind trick, my Jedi brothers used to call it. That sounds much more benign than Force coercion. Against a weak-minded target – not stupid, and not laughable, just not as strong as us – you can learn to plant a suggestion, one they’re likely to instantly act on. It takes careful concentration but if it’s done right you can save yourself from a serious fight, or worse.” He shook his black hair back from his face. “There’s no one you can ethically practice on but me. The good news is, I’m resistant and I’ll be able to sense your progress. So raise one hand and concentrate…”

*

Ruth waved her hand, making a concerted effort to weave her focus into the raider commander’s temples. “You will order your men to stand down.”

“Ow!” barked the commander, and shook his head violently. His next words were for his comlink. “Men, step it up!”

“Ugh,” growled Ruth, and dropped the insufficiently-practiced effort, and spun her new but natural-feeling lightsaber. “Vette, look out! We’re going to have company!”

“Uninvite them!” Vette yelled back from around the corner.

“Trying!” yelled Ruth. Blaster fire sounded from Vette’s direction. Ruth cut down the commander while he was still fumbling with a grenade. What she lacked in Force nuance she made up for in strength. Then, hearing the chaotic thunder of more raiders than she really cared to count coming down the tunnel, she sprinted down the hall to rejoin her Twi’lek friend.

“More coming?” said Vette, placing a few more shots at the original knot of frenzied raiders and darting back to cover.

Ruth popped up long enough to deflect some blaster bolts, then slid down next to Vette. “Afraid so.”

“Are we getting out with the artifact?”

“Of course we are. It’ll just be busy.”

“I figured you were going to turn the reinforcements back, like you love doing. What happened?”

“There was no time for reasoning,” she said glumly. “I tried awing him with my presence.”

“Huh,” said Vette. “Out of curiosity, has that ever worked?”

Ruth sighed. “No.”

“Better luck next time,” Vette said briskly, and tossed a flash grenade before turning her back and shielding her eyes. “Let’s get out of here so there’ll be a next time.”

@Alaurin- AWWWW! Just what I needed after sitting around moping about my own love life. Lots of warm fuzzies from one of my favorite couples on this thread.

@Bright_ephemera- Welcome back! I'm peripherally aware of Ruth, but this is one of the first times that I've been able to read any of it, since I finally have a warrior with a decent amount of levels on her. Looking foreward to seeing where she goes!

Feyte sits listlessly at the table in the conference room. She feels completely drained. Long months on Hoth followed by Eyrie’s disappearance- the Jedi Councel wont’ say what happened, but she can tell they’re worried- and finally the shock of discovering Blasus’ true identity have worn her down and by now she feels like an empty shell that goes through the motions of life without really knowing why.

She’s being over-dramatic, she knows. The feeling will pass in time. But right now it’s hitting her like a turbolaser battery and she just wants to sleep until it goes away.

Something flickers in the Force behind her and she looks up. Lt. Iresso is standing in the doorway, holding his rifle and looking worried. “Are you alright, Jedi?”

Feyte manages to put on a smile. “I’m fine. Just tired. And I’ve told you, you can call me Feyte.”

He nods. “Mind if I sit down? I need some place to clean this rifle, and one of the senators is trying to sleep.”

“Of course. As long as you don’t mind if I stay and chat.”

“Go right ahead.” He looks at her a little nervously, and she feels something stir, not quite in the Force, but not quite in her mind either. It’s almost like she’s feeling something while simultaneously being aware that someone else is feeling the same thing. Could it be…?

The thought makes her blush and she starts talking to cover it. “So, are you happy to be off Hoth, or do you miss it?”

“Little of both, I guess,” he says, detaching the rifle’s handgrips and setting them on the table. “I mean, I miss the guys in my command, but they’re going home like they deserve. Can’t say I’m sorry to leave Hoth, though. That

place was colder than anywhere I’ve ever been.”

Feyte smiles. Talking to someone is helping. “I can’t disagree with you there.”

“I like the ship, though, even if it is a little crowded. I-“

He breaks off as the holoterminal in the main room rings. Feyte jumps up and hurries to answer. That could be Master Satale or Master Bakarn. “Excuse me,” she calls over her shoulder. Pressing the answer key, she waits for the caller to appear.

After several minutes, a figure flickers into view. “Eyrie!” Feyte gasps. Her friend’s face is half-obscured by the hood of a robe and her carved mask and she’s crouched down, seeming afraid of discovery.

“Feyte, is that you?” Her voice is dry and husky and lifeless.

“Yes. What is it? Where have you been?” Feyte can feel energy flowing back into her body. Finally, something is

going right.

“I don’t have time, they might be tracing this call. You have to come and pick us up. Meet me at the coordinates I’m

sending as soon as you can. And have a medic ready.”

The hologram disappears and Feyte lets out the breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Eyrie is alive, and

at least one other person on her crew is as well, or she wouldn’t have said ‘we’.

“Is Kira alright?” says Nadia. Feyte turns around. The Selucami girl is standing in the doorway, along with Tharan and Holiday, Lt. Iresso, and Representative Aluani.

“She didn’t say, but I think so.” The two of them had met briefly several times, and seemed to get along well. It’s a friendship Feyte wants to encourage. It would be good for both of them to spend time with people their own age.

“Are you sure it’s her?” the representative says. “It wasn’t on her frequency, was it?”

Feyte shakes her head. She hasn’t told anyone else on the ship what little she knows, but it was impossible to hide altogether. “No, but I doubt she’d be calling us for help if her ship was functioning.”

“We can trace the call,” offers Tharan. “Holiday?”

“Of course I can.” The hologram disappears and reappears next to the holoterminal. “Let’s see… It looks like the call came from Imperial space. If I’m not mistaken, this is a shuttle frequency from the Imperial navy.”

“See, I told you,” says the representative. “They’re probably just baiting us.”

Feyte feels her stomach sinking. “But we have to try. What if she got captured and just managed to escape. An

Imperial code might be all she could find.”

Lt. Iresso shakes his head. “It’s too dangerous for us to go. Call the Jedi council or the Chancellor’s office, and get them to send a couple Spec Ops squads over there.”

“There’s no time for that. She said they were tracking her. We have to go.” Tears spring into her eyes. “Please.”

He shrugs. “You’re the Jedi Master. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Representative Alluani is frowning harder than usual. “It’s stupid, but I can’t argue with you, I suppose.” Both of them turn to leave, along with Tharan and Holiday. Nadia remains in the doorway.

“Are you sure it’s not a trap, Master?”

“I am, Nadia.”

“Alright. Then I think we’ll be OK.”

“Thank you. Will you help me get the ship ready to go? It will be faster with two of us.”

The next day, Feyte walks down the ramp of The Shining Path with nervousness tearing at her. What if she’s wrong? Can she defeat an Imperial ambush? She hopes so. Qyzen has insisted on coming along for her protection, and despite his obvious discomfort with the endeavor, so has Lt. Iresso.

The coordinates have brought them to a disused mining station. A thin layer of dust covers the floor and Feyte can sense a faint, lingering dark presence. A lone shuttle is the only other thing in the docking bay.

As she, Qyzen, and the Lt. slowly walk towards it, its door opens and Feyte feels the other two tense. A lone figure, short and slim and wrapped in a black robe, walks down the ramp. It reaches up and pulls its hood off.

“Eyrie,” Feyte says in relief. “It’s you.” She races toward her friend and wraps her arms around her.

The Miraluka stands there stiffly, body tense. “We have to go. Kira and Doc are wounded, and the Empire is after us. I’m sorry to trouble you, but my ship was unavailable.” She speaks in a near monotone.

Feyte steps back. “Eyrie, what’s wrong? Where were you?” Not only is the other Jedi’s voice different, but up close, she looks terrible. Her face alone has several half-healed wounds and she’s lost weight. If she had eyes, Feyte is sure they would be sunken in dark circles. Her presence is unreadable, masked in the way Eyrie so often does to the point where Feyte isn’t even sure if she’s feeling the emotions at all, or if she’s become so good at masking them that she’s shut down feeling altogether.

She doesn’t answer and turns back into the shuttle. Feyte stares after her, confused. A moment later she reappears, with T7. Sgt. Rusk and Doc are behind her, supporting Kira between them, though it’s obvious that the Sgt. is doing most of the supporting. The redheaded padawan’s head hangs limply, her eyes are closed, and her clothes in tatters, but she doesn’t show many outward signs of injury. Doc is obviously limping and a bruise is rising on his cheek and Rusk looks a little paler than she remembers, but neither seems in immediate danger.

Behind them, another figure emerges from the shuttle and Feyte takes a step back involuntarily. “Don’t worry,” says Eyrie in the same tone. “He’s our ally, for now anyway.”

Feyte takes a deep breath and looks at the pureblood again. He’s tall and bulky, wearing classic Sith battle armor and apparently uninjured. Darkness comes off him in waves and she shivers. “Eyrie-?”

“Please, Feyte. Let’s go.”

Feyte watches as her friends and the Sith board her ship, Qyzen and Lt. Iresso standing close. A cold feeling creeps over her. Something terrible happened, and she’s afraid of finding out what it was.

Featuring: Jaxzin and Ka'van

Spoilers: new 3.0 stuff with Rishi pub side

Timeline: at the very end please

Prompt: Tall Tales and Exaggeration

“Where in the hell could he be?” the Cathar muttered under his breath.

“Well this is the last cantina we know of on this rock, hopefully he is in here. Otherwise we will have to start looking in the jungles. Is he an avid hiker?”

“Star I hope not, have you seen the size of some of those animals?” Jax shuddered.

“I'd rather not mess with them...”

“Wait do you hear that?” Jax strained, head canted. Inside was the muffled sound of horribly off tune singing. He could have sworn that he heard someone drunkenly slur the word fist. “Oh stars,” he groaned.

“What?” Risha looked up, “What is it?”

“I think I found him.” Jax moved into the dimly lit cantina, his eyes quickly adjusting to the low lighting as they scanned the interior. The sound seemed to be coming from the lower level, seconds later another rousing chorus erupted echoing up the stairs.

“What are they doing down there?”

“I have no idea but I have a feeling we are going to find that ginger haired Jedi in the thick of it...” Jax sighed as they stepped down the stairs. As they neared the bottom he found the source of the commotion, tucked away in a corner booth was a large gathering of people and smack dab in the middle of it was Ka'van. Jax's brow spiked. Ka'van was there alright; wearing the pirate get up they had picked up, but now it was dyed a dark red. His hair was loose hanging down his shoulders, a large hat obscuring his face. Ka'van tilted his head back holding up a huge mug and belted out another round. Jax felt his ears warm as he listened to the Jedi sing a song about hunting the bonny black jax and how the sportsmen took out his ramrod and blaster bolts.

“Where did he learn a song like that?” Risha whispered as Ka'van started another verse.

“I have no idea. We should probably get him out of here though.”

“You think,” Risha snorted as she rolled her eyes.

“Come on,” Jax grumbled as they walked to the booth.

“O-hoy! Captain,” Ka'van shouted, as they got closer. “Come on Captain have a seat,” he patted the table and the patrons who were hanging around him parted.

“Its the Captain,” someone whispered off to the side.

“Aye, its the good Captain.” Ka'van cheered lifting his mug even higher, slopping the contents onto the table. “See those claws, those teeth, who else could he be but our Captain?”

“Awww ya spilled, you know the rules,” a Rodian sitting at Ka'van's elbow shook his head, the motion causing the green skinned man to roll backwards into the booth.

“Aye, I do,” Ka'van's hand shot up gesturing to the barkeep, “Another round!”

Head shaking, the dusky skinned Human walked towards the table, hands heavily ladened with brimming mugs. Wordlessly he set the mugs down on the table along with a bottle of nearly black liquid.

“Oh that does not look like a good idea,” Risha muttered.

“I guarantee it's not.” Jax shook his head, staring at Ka'van.

“So for my penance, another round.” Ka'van positioned the mugs around the table, hand barely moving. The gathered patrons eagerly wrapped their hands around the mugs as Ka'van proceeded to pour the black liquid into waiting shot glasses. Once each glass was filled, it looked to be about eight, Ka'van raised his hand. Each glass lifted simultaneously and moved, hovering over a full mug.

“Hey,” a robust Twi'lek complained, “what abbou ya Captain. He needs a drink!”

“Naw,” Ka'van shook his head, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial level. “He's all full, ya see he and his second hand The Heiress had a little business to take care of earlier. They like to take their time and savor the runners.”

“Ohh,” the Twi'lek nodded and scooted further away from the edge of the booth. “Well alright then.”

“Now where was I? Oh yea, my penance!” Ka'van smiled, nodding at Jax and Risha, his face nearly covered by that ridiculous hat.

Jax watched wide eyed as Ka'van snapped his fingers and violet light jumped from the Human's fingertips arcing to the hovering shot glasses. The liquid within immediately ignited in green flame. Another snap and the glasses fell, plummeting into the awaiting mugs, with a violent hiss. As if it were rehearsed, all the mugs rose at once and the sounds of throats swallowing filled the air as everyone worked to drink the massive mugs. Ka'van finished first slamming the mug down onto the table as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Arrrrg,” a collected shout rose, “fear the Ember Fist.”

The Rodian sitting next to Ka'van flopped against the Jedi. “How do you do that! You have fin.. fin... finished first alll tree times.”

Ka'van just chuckled in response.

“Are Jedi supposed to be able to do that?” Risha whispered stepping closer to Jax.

He looked down at his Mate, “I honestly have no idea.” He looked up at Ka'van who had fished the empty shot glass out of his mug and was refilling it with that ominous liquor. “What are you doing?” The Cathar hissed.

“Having another drink,” Ka'van chuckled as he picked up the glass.

“Do you really think that is a good idea?”

“Of course I do, I have been here regaling everyone with tales of your exploits. It’s been quite the evening.”

“Our exploits...” Jax moaned, beside him Risha swallowed a giggle.

“Yes, the exploits of the great Red Hulls. How you watch from the shadows, taking your time to hunt down and dispatch those who double-crossed you. How your lovely second in command has hidden countless treasures across known and unknown space, tempting intrepid would be seekers to risk life and limb to claim it.”

“Oh really, what about you?” Jax rolled his eyes.

“Oh ttaatsss easy,” the Rodian slurred, “He's how you are able to sta... sta... be ten steps ahead, an outlaw Jedi wanted by thhe Order, he uses thhe Force.” The Rodian wiggled his fingers as he grabbed the shot glass spilling a substantial amount on the table. “He's thhee greeat Em.. Em.. Ember Fisst.”

“That's right Sidi, that's right.” Ka'van clapped the severely listing Rodian on the back. Jax could have sworn the Rodian was becoming even greener. “The great Ember Fist!”

Ka'van's hand shout out, grabbing Risha around the waist, he pulled her down next to him in the booth. He picked up his hat dropping it on Risha's head, while his other hand unclasped her hair pin causing her chestnut locks to cascade past her shoulder, “Now you look more like yourself my dear.” Ka'van winked at her, which was slightly unsettling considering he was sporting an eye patch over his right eye. He slid his shot glass in front on her, filling it with more of that black stuff.

“So, Ember, what exactly are you drinking?” Risha asked picking up the glass and its questionable contents.

“Well, this stuff is called Kyr'am laar when you light it and drop it into a mug of Rogues Red, it’s called a Flaming Scuttle.

“That's nice, so how many have you had?” Risha brought the glass to her lips taking a small sip.

“Ohh ten of the Flaming Scuttles, the mugs of Red maybe fifteen.”

“And the glasses of Kyr'am laar?” Risha asked looked at him over the edge of her raised glass.

Ka'van just shrugged, “Lost count.” He grabbed the now sleeping Sidi's glass and refilled it.

Risha nodded as she took another small sip. “How much longer were you planning on staying here? With your new friends? It does appear that they lack your stamina.” She gestured around the table with the nearly full glass, the motley patrons were slumped either on each other or the table, a chorus of snoring filling the air where moments before it had been filled with Ka'van's rather raunchy song.

“Now that's a pity,” Ka'van muttered forlornly. “I was rather enjoying myself.”

“Hmmm, ah yes I can tell,” Risha muttered as her hand slowly moved towards the tall black bottle.

Ka'van's hand snaked out grabbing it, as his fingers curled around its slender neck the bottle wobbled in his grasp. “Let me.” He picked up the bottle; his grip seemed to waver momentarily as he topped off her glass, liquor spilling over the edge.

“Why thank you,” Risha muttered, her hand slowly moving away from the liquor bottle. “Since it seems like things have calmed down around here, why don't we go get something to eat?”

“Nope, I'm full. These guys treated me to dinner.”

“They actually bought you dinner? How did you swing that?” Jax shook his head.

“They were generous enough to feed me for a few tales.”

“Were they, what exactly did you eat?” Risha sipped on the shot glass.

“Well it was an interesting assortment of fried things, veggies of the local sort.”

“Veggies,” Jax snorted. “Since when do you eat veggies?”

“Why I am a vegetarian,” Ka'van's grin grew, as he kicked back the contents of the glass.

“Oh stars,” Jax muttered. “Sure he is and I'm a shaved Wookiee. He enjoys a nerf burgers as much as the next guy.”

“Nope,” Ka'van grinned, “Your a cannibal!”

Risha moved slowly out of the booth. “Why don't we go and get some more fried veggies.” She extended her hand to Ka'van. He grabbed it as he slid out of the booth, the black bottle still firmly grasped. As Ka'van stood he fell against Risha. Her hand wrapped around his waist as she quietly shook her head, cutting off Jax's comment. Gently she steered the huge Jedi towards the stairs. As they ascended Ka'van began to hum and took a pull off the bottle.

Behind her Jaz whispered, “Seriously he's that drunk?”

Risha nodded, glancing back at the Cathar. “He is, no idea how long he has been at it, but judging from the state of the people at that table I’d say a few hours at the least.

When the cantina was safely behind them, Jax stopped in front of Ka'van. “Seriously what were you doing in there?”

“Well Captain,” Ka'van took another long pull of the inky black bottle. “It was your idea to use the aliases, I just decided to elaborate a bit.”

“Well yeah use them … in a vague not really admitting to it kind of way.”

Ka'van rolled his eyes, “Maybe next time we will try it my way.”

“What, kill them?” Jax shook his head, “Ka'van you can't just go around killing people.”

Ka'van shrugged. “I don't see what the problem is there, Captain. I find it to be a rather effective way to deal with situations like that. One body hits the floor people tend to be more forthcoming with information.” He took another pull off the bottle swaying slightly.

Risha looked at Jax, “He's not joking is he?”

Jax shook his head, “Not at all. He honestly makes my Sister look like the Poster Child for the Order. Trust me, there are times I wonder why he is still in the Order.”

Ka'van tilted his head back as he took another drink, wobbling on his feet. Pulling the bottle away, he let go of Risha to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand. “Because,” he whispered, “they need Jedi... their loss was great.” Staggering he took another drink as he moved away from Jax and Risha. Pausing he looked back at them, “Your sister, is your sister here?” Ka'van's eyes widened as his grin nearly split his cheeks.

“Oh crud. No she is not here, Stars I don't have it in me to deal with that right now. She is enough of a handful on her own.”

“Maybe she would be a good influence on him.” Risha suggested.

Jax's brow arched. Snorting he shook his head, “No, there is no way I would get that lucky, he would have her seven sheets to the wind, racing rancors on Hutta if I left him alone with her. Or worse.”

“Come on, it wouldn't be that bad.” She looked at the expression on Jax's face. “Would it?”

“Worse,” he snorted, “It's best to keep them separated.”

“Speaking of separated, where is he?”

“What he is right...” Jax trailed off eyes scanning the deserted boardwalk, only shuttered up shops and the quiet serf washing upon the shore answered him. “Oh hell...”

“Let him go,” Risha laid her hand on his arm. “He’s a big boy he can take care of himself.”

“He is also completely hammered, armed, and drinking a full bottle of whatever that black stuff was.”

“I think maybe you should leave him alone, I don't think it was a coincidence he had been drinking that heavily. I have a feeling something is bothering him.”

“Bothering him,” Jax sighed. “I get to deal with that ginger-haired Jedi telling everyone that we do actually eat sentients and I’m supposed to just to just let him go?”

“Yes,” Risha sighed. “I think we need to.”

“Fine,” Jax muttered, “But I refuse to bond him out if he does anything exceptionally stupid.”

“Alright, deal. Lets get back to the ship,” Risha looked at the moon hanging low in the sky. “I'm tired and tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

AN

Mando'a

Kyr'am – death laar – song - a made up rather potent liquor, I was thinking of something along the lines of Everclear.

A jax, small furry critter resembles a rabbit those of you who played Star War Galaxies should remember them. http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Jax_%28creature%29

“Is the Director coming? Here? Today?”

“Yes, yes, and yes.” Wynston swung into the free space in the cantina booth and smiled genially at the four cadets and their mountain of empty bottles.

“D-Director,” said one. “Wow. You’re here.”

“I am, in fact. I know we have a little time before things get started, I just wanted to say hello and let you know that if you have any questions, feel free.”

A much more flushed-looking one leaned forward. “Jance says you’ve slept with ten thousand women. Is that true?”

The first one elbowed him. “Dobbs!”

“What? He said we could ask.”

Wynston blinked. “I…don’t count,” he said mildly. “Frankly I’m a little suspicious of those who do.”

“Yeah, right,” said a third, finally separating his mouth from his bottle. “I heard you slept with the old Chancellor of the Republic at the start of the war.”

“That rumor was a little exaggerated,” said Wynston.

“I heard you seduced the Emperor’s Wrath,” pressed the third cadet.

Quinn had drifted from behind Wynston to stand at the other entrance to the booth, silently watching.

Wynston caught one glance and looked away. “No, not as such,” he said nervously.

The questions came from every direction now. “But you talked the Twin Masters Noola and Nonn into a threesome.”

"I really can't comment on that."

“On the Illustrious Ro Gogo Pleasure Palace Penthouse dome.”

“I…what? The outside? I mean, I’ve been to the Illustrious Ro Gogo Pleasure Palace Penthouse, but…you know what? Never mind. You’re far too young to hear about that. – Hold on, I just finished the math. It would take around twenty-eight years of a new woman each day to reach ten thousand.”

The first cadet grinned. “You look older than that to me.”

“I do have a day job, you know.”

“As a Cipher agent. Followed by sexy spy leader of the galaxy. That’s gotta buy you all the ***** you can–”

“I am not the maniac you’re making me out to be.”

“He’s just being modest.”

“Why would he ever want to be modest?”

“He has so much to be modest about,” murmured Quinn, but did not interrupt the train wreck.

“Maybe it’s not all a good thing. Is it true you used to strangle every girl you had a one-night stand with with your silk scarf so she couldn’t talk?”

“No!" Wynston pushed a hand into his hair and left it there. "Where do you even hear these things? There are exactly two people I’ve ever informed of my activities and then only insofar as they impacted the mission. And I know for a fact you never pried information out of those two Keepers.”

“Keeper! You slept with her. Him.”

“Her,” said another.

“Them?”

“Her. Right?”

“Absolutely not, and if you meet anyone who claims they have, they’re lying. A Keeper requires a certain degree of discretion in their partners.”

“Like you.”

“No!”

“Is it true you rrroschbatted Darth Scythia in the Dark Council chambers?”

Wynston let his hand drop to jam it across his chest. “That’s not even a word. Spell that. Try to spell that.”

"Were you the one who amended Intelligence personnel forms to include options 'trisexual' through 'septasexual'?"

"That was never on our personnel files! I would have noticed! - wait, is this about the Raubaulans? I only documented their unusual biological system, I didn't sleep with them. Well, not all of them. Much."

"Didn't you patent sexual healing in thirteen systems?"

"No, but oddly enough I know who did. He would be crushed to hear I got the credit."

Quinn went from standing rigidly upright to standing extremely rigidly upright, a motion that managed to command attention. “Tell them about the time you lost an entire planetary government because you couldn’t untie yourself from your…associate’s…bed fast enough.”

“That – is not fair! And also definitely not true,” Wynston said hastily, glaring daggers. The cadets were perceptibly absorbing the allegation. Quinn radiated satisfied malice. “It's not my fault if certain individuals turned out to have earned a triple Nexu Scout badge in knot-making. Anyway I do not discuss previous involvements, especially fabricated ones.”

“Well someone’s gotta discuss them,” announced cadet number one. “Inquiring minds need to know how to follow in your footsteps.”

“There is no following. There aren’t even footsteps. You want success with women? Focus more on the woman and less on the success. I’ve been rejected by more women than I can count and plain ignored by more than that. It didn’t matter, as long as the connection was there with the ones willing to stay. I’ve had passionate involvements consisting entirely of conversation. I’ve spent whole nights just sitting on the roof watching the stars turn until the sun comes up, just being with someone. I’ve exchanged regards with women I never laid a hand on, and meant it. Sex was never a goal, only a possible expression of mutual appreciation. Sod the numbers. You have to care about the people.”

The cadets stared soggily at him.

“Yeah,” said one, “but did you actually play a professional dominatrix for six months waiting to get hired by the prince of Dubrillion?”

“You know what? This Q&A session is over.” Wynston stood. “And honestly, it couldn’t have been more than two weeks.”

Is the masculine form of “dominatrix” just “dominator”?

The petite young woman sighed, centering herself as she gracefully eased her body out of the complex pose she’d been holding. She took one last deep, cleansing breath, slowly letting it out as she stepped off the mat and walked over to the intercom. She brushed a lock of sweat dampened auburn hair that escaped the bindings of her thick ponytail, tucking it behind her ear as she pressed the answer button.

“What is it?”

“Yuun requires the Major’s assistance with something strange with the ship’s computer system.”

“I’ll be there in a moment,” Mallay replied, then switched off the com. She turned to leave the cargo hold that doubled as the squad’s exercise area, pausing to watch the duo at the other end of the vast room. Her second in command was pacing next to their explosives expert, barking out the count as the Weequay did push-ups. She shook her head, wondering what Tanno did this time.

“….forty-eight……forty-nine……fifty. Just fifty more to go and maybe you won’t forget to activate the safety the next time you store your weapon.”

So that’s how his fur got singed, Mallay bit back a giggle when her husband’s bright green gaze met hers and a sexy half smile crossed his features as that bedroom voice continued counting. She continued to watch him, appreciating the way those exercise shorts clung to his firm backside. He stopped pacing for a moment, his hand rubbing his lower back as he stretched, then continued pacing alongside a grunting Vik. She could feel her cheeks heat up at the memory of how those velvety soft hands woke her this morning and judging from the soft chuckle coming from Aric, he’d noticed and likely guessed what she was thinking about. Remembering that Yuun needed her, Mallay hurried out of the room. She passed by the ship’s Holoterminal, now displaying a complex chemical compound, smiling at Elara as her medic narrated diagnostic information into her datapad.

“What’s our computer status?” Mallay called out as she approached her tech expert. The Gand was standing at the large terminal just outside the cockpit, studying it intently.

“Most circuits guide their charges harmoniously,” Yuun answered cryptically, “But our navigation system shows the marks of outside hands. The location of a remote planet, Rishi, had been added to our astrogation charts. Tampering attempts to alter our destiny.”

Having gotten used to the Findsman’s shamanistic ways of reading signs over the past couple of years, Mallay knew he saw this as a threat and pushed the all call button on the intercom.

“Hey guys, we’ve got a situation…..head to the cockpit immediately.”

Within moments, the squad was assembled and Mallay relayed Yuun’s findings on the navacomputer.

“Rishi?” Aric looked thoughtful, “I keep getting messages from guys I’ve served with over the years, all saying they’re retiring there……too many to be a coincidence. At first I thought it was some sort of odd prank, but with this happening…..maybe it’s more tampering.”

“My research logs keep entering Rishi in place of other planet names while I’m making entries,” Elara informed them, “I submitted a five-nine-two-kay about it a week ago.”

“The review of such documents were to be the next step in today’s journey,” Yuun noted.

“I’m not sure that’s necessary now,” Mallay replied, “It seems like someone’s trying to point us at Rishi. Opinions?”

“Violating all of our computer’s security protocols would require exceptional intelligence,” Elara pointed out, “Such a person couldn’t have believed we wouldn’t notice.”

“and they certainly went to a lot of trouble to get our attention,” Aric added, “Someone must want us there pretty badly.”

“Well then, we’d better find out who and why,” Mallay concluded, “and the only way to do that is to go there. I’ve never even heard of Rishi……you?”

“I remember some of the gang used to mention Rishi from time to time back when I was still on Nar Shaddaa,” Tanno replied, “but the only thing I really know about it is that it’s a pirate haven of sorts.”

“I wonder if Bella’s heard of it……she has more contacts within the pirate gangs now that she’s taken over Port Nowhere,” Mallay mused as she went down the stairs, “I’m going to give her a call before changing course…..see what she thinks.” Mallay put in her sister’s frequency in the ship’s holoterminal and a moment later, Bella’s image appeared.

“Heya sis!”

“Hey Bella,” Mallay grinned at her disheveled and slightly out of breath older sister, “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Nah……Corso and I wore each other out last night,” Bella winked, “I was just trying to stop Akaavi from doing bodily harm to Guss. So what’s up?”

“I’m not sure,” Mallay frowned, then went on to explain the strange things they discovered.

“Wow!” Corso exclaimed, his image appearing behind Bella’s, “That’s scary!”

“You got that right,” Bella nodded, exchanging a look with her husband before continuing on, “About fifteen minutes ago, Risha discovered someone had been tampering with our navacomputer. Every time she’d put in a course, the computer would replot it to Rishi. We were just talking about it when Guss started screaming for help, then you called. We’re thinking about checking it out to see what’s what.”

“Same here,” Mallay replied, “You know anything about Rishi?”

“I’ve heard of it and know it’s on the far edge of the Outer Rim, but that’s about it.”

“Viidu used to talk about it, said he wanted to retire there. I think he was kidding though, because it always seemed like he was a little scared of the place,” Corso told them, “I know it’s some sort of pirate haven, but that’s about it.”

“Tanno said the same thing.”

“Risha’s been there once….”

“But I was just a kid and don’t remember much really,” Risha’s voice called out, “Just black sand, dive joints, blackmarket dealings, and pirates of all types everywhere. I didn’t travel outside the main port.”

“You plotted course yet?” Bella asked her sister.

“Not yet,” Mallay shook her head, “I wanted to call you first and see what you knew about the place.”

“Yuun put in the coordinates. Our journey will take twenty-one hours.”

“Risha checked just before you called and we’re about the same distance…….maybe arrive a few minutes after you,” Bella replied, “I’ll make the course change as soon as sign off with you.”

“We’ll see you soon, then,” Mallay nodded, then disconnected the call and headed to the cockpit.

*******

Twenty-two hours later, Mallay, Aric, and Tanno were walking along the boardwalk leading into the bustling trade port. Without having any real intel on the planet or their mysterious hacker, Mallay decided to leave Elara, Yuun, and Forex with the ship. They were keeping the ship on standby, ready to make a quick takeoff if needed.

“Hey boss,” Vik’s gravelly voice caught her attention, “I think we’re a little overdressed for this party.”

“That we are,” Mallay acknowledged, spotting a species she’d never encountered before blatantly staring at her, “and it’s definitely being noticed.”

“Psst…..over here,” the avian humanoid beckoned Mallay over when their gazes met, “Oh, I can’t believe it’s actually you! I mean we all knew you were coming to Raider’s Cove, but to see you in the flesh……it’s just amazing.”

Mallay just stood there, dumbfounded for a moment, then her eyes narrowed at the native, “Wait…..how did you know we were coming? And who are you?”

“So sorry…..I just get excited easily and I’ve heard so much…..well, anyway, I’m Qaraah and it’s an honor to meet you! Words been spreading like crazy around here. All your exploits, the daring raids, the blood lust, and uh.....” Qaraah looked around before leaning closer, lowering his voice as he continued, “how you ate your captives…..”

“I did what?!”

“Hey, didn’t mean to offend……who am I to judge? Just because you devour your enemies doesn’t mean you’re bad or anything. Please don’t eat me!”

“I-I-I’m not going to eat you,” Mallay assured him, slightly disgusted, “Look, I think you’re confusing me with someone else……”

“Nope, I’d be able to pick you out anywhere……especially in that getup! It’s an interesting disguise, but you really do stand out. Did you eat the troopers you took it from?”

“I don’t eat people!” Mallay insisted, turning to glare at her snickering squad, which now included her sister, Corso, and Risha.

“Sure you don’t……and next you’re gonna tell me you aren’t Captain Laurenna Jorgan, infamous leader of the Red Hulls.”

“Who?”

“Oh, come on,” Qaraah laughed, the high pitch caw what one might expect from his species, “You’re pulling my leg now…….”

“She is,” Bella spoke up, thinking fast as she had an idea of what might be going on, “We’re working on her sense of humor though, so bear with her.”

“Are you off your karking rocker?!” Mallay shrieked, oblivious to the nervous looks passerby were giving them.

“No need to get upset, Captain,” Bella smirked as she gave her sister a pointed look, “So your attempt at going incognito backfired and someone recognized you. He seems like cool guy so let’s just see if Qaraah here knows who spilled the beans on your arrival.”

“Oh, oh….. I can tell you,” he volunteered eagerly, yellow-orange eyes widening with excitement, “It was Gorro. He’s been telling anyone and everyone about you and how he’s gonna kill you so he can be famous. I hope I get to see you fight Gorro…..especially if someone gets tossed out a window. I love that!”

“But I’m no-”

“And where can we find this guy?” Aric inquired, interrupting his mate as he figured out what Bella was doing.

“Oh, he’s probably hanging out in the Blaster’s Path Cantina,” Qaraah answered, “That’s popular spot in the Cove. Pretty nice place and has great food so….uh…..no need to eat anyone.”

“Thanks,” Bella grinned as Aric steered Mallay away before she blew her top.

Once they were far enough to be out of Qaraah's earshot, Mallay glared at her sister, “Have you gone mental, Bella?!”

“Nope,” Bella rolled her eyes, “Think about it, sister dear. I know you’re worn out from that last mission and probably sexually frustrated because you and Aric haven’t had any privacy in at least a week, but try to use that normally intelligent mind of yours to ponder on everything that’s happened to us these past few hours. The strange things pointing us to this planet, someone you’ve never met getting your attention with the wildest rumors…….”

“Follow the trail, hon,” Aric prompted, knowing his mate was indeed overtired since nightmares from Manaan were still plaguing all of them. Not to mention the headaches she kept getting as her optic nerve was still adjusting to the new tech in her implant. Her old one had been damaged during their escape from the sinking labs, and since it was outdated, the techs back on Coruscant replaced it with a newer model. It looked pretty much the same as her old one, but had had more enhancement options with a sharper imaging once everything had time to properly adjust.

“Someone wanted us here and is leaving us a trail to follow,” Mallay concluded, “Question is, do we follow it?”

“I don’t see why not,” Bella shrugged, “There’s more than enough of us here to deal with any threat and I get the feeling whoever’s behind all this isn’t an enemy. In fact, I have a pretty good idea who it is after Risha and I discussed what it would take to hack into our systems as well as yours. I don’t want to say any names out loud, but just think about some of our recent adventures…..”

“You could be on to something,” Mallay nodded, understanding what her sister was getting at and it made sense, “Good thing you caught on…….I never even considered that.”

“Well, I’ve gotten pretty good at spotting scams and cons over these past few years.”

“and pulling a couple here and there,” Corso grinned at his wife.

“That too,” Bella admitted, unashamed of that fact, “So come on, Laurenna…….we’ve got a date with a Rodian and if you’re feeling peckish, please warn us before you eat him ‘cause that’s not something I want to witness.”

“That’s not funny!” Mallay hissed as they continued on.

“You know, I’ve seen you eat enough for a Huttball squad,” Corso teased, “I’m sure you could eat the players too.”

“HA HA, very funny!”

“Probably best not to eat the Rodian though,” Aric joined in, “Remember what that Rodian food did to you back on Coruscant.”

“Maybe there was actually Rodian in it,” Bella raised a brow and the rest of the group burst into laughter.

“Stars I hate you guys,” Mallay muttered, stalking off towards the cantina.

“Awww, come on hon,” Aric called out, trying to stifle his laughter only to lose it when a protocol droid passed by hailing the exploits of the great Red Hulls and their fearless, blood thirsty leader who was known for her various insatiable appetites.

“…….men want her, women want to be her, and all fear her savage fury! The leader of the Red Hulls is coming to Raider’s Cove……”

“By the stars, this is the best con I’ve ever been a part of and I don’t even know the pertinent details,” Bella snickered, wiping tears from her eyes as she pointed at her sister up ahead. Mallay’s ramrod straight back spoke volumes and Bella forced herself to stop laughing, “However, we’d better get to the bottom of this before Mallay has a coronary….”

“or eats someone,” Tanno chuckled.

“I heard that!”

@Charmedseed: I suppose happy tears probably count, but last night's post shouldn't involve tears of any sort. I'm glad you're enjoying Bella and Mallay. Their twin sisters, Lissa (JC) and Ros (JK) have a few in this thread as well and I'm currently in the editing/polishing stages for a story with Ros and hope to post it sometime today. I was a little disappointed that a key person in the JK storyline was unusually silent during the SOR storyline, but as you said, it just gives us fanfic writers room to explore.

@Bright: Welcome back!! I enjoyed the piece with Ruth and Colran....a nice father/daughter moment, then later Ruth's attempt to put her father's wisdom to the test without success made her seem real. Force users can't be perfect in all aspects and it was nice to see her struggle with the concept. Plus, Vette......I just love Vette!! Index wise, I filed that story at the top, just under The Story So Far. Please let me know if you want it moved to a different place.

Then Wynston......I always love the Wynston stuff and was excited to see the one on Tumblr this morning. However, the Wynston/Quinn stuff never fails to make me grin from ear to ear.....SWTOR's little odd couple. Loved the Tall Tales story and I can just see a tell all novel coming out.....Interstellar Conquests: The Story of One Agent's Amorous Exploits. Each chapter can be about a different woman/group of women. Index wise, I filed that story at the end. Again, if you'd like it shifted elsewhere, just let me know.

@alaurin, of course I see you in other venues. It’s fun seeing Kitar’s character mix it up with yours. I really like Qyzen Fess’s progress – tracking is one thing he would shine at. Have I ever mentioned Mallay/Jorgan squee? Because squeee.

@Mirdthestrill: Loved that piece with Feyte and awwww, the start of those warm fuzzy feelings between her and Felix. *sigh* Then the call from Eyrie, loved how you handled that and involved Feyte in her escape. I've written about Ros going through that particular part of the JK storyline, but I haven't delved into her twin's reactions to events.

@Alaurin- AWWWW! Just what I needed after sitting around moping about my own love life. Lots of warm fuzzies from one of my favorite couples on this thread.

@Kitar: You already know my thoughts, but I was thrilled to see you'd posted the story! That storyline just lends itself to all sorts of debauchery and that was a very insightful look into Ka'van. He and Jax are going to have some memorable adventures with this ruse.

@Striges: Yup, that prompt sparked some ideas for me as well......finally decided on one that is definitely evil and not in a good way.

@alaurin,

 

“…….men want her, women want to be her, and all fear her savage fury! The leader of the Red Hulls is coming to Raider’s Cove……”

 

I read this in the crier droid's voice, and it was beautiful.

I'm sensing a new Pierce Junior special, as he takes some time out from his usual Quinn/Wynston slash to establish the "truth" of his muse's history. Hazard and the fellow subscribers of the Aegis should love it. Wynston should be in alternate fury and despair at the sometimes harrowingly realistic, sometimes maddeningly out-of-character contrivances, and am I actually talking myself into doing this? Better stop now

They were pinned down, and it was just him and one other soldier left standing. It didn’t matter, he was proud to die for the Republic and was ready to face it head on when the unmistakable sound of lightsabers activating echoed through the corridor. In the blink of an eye, a robed figure leapt between him and the advancing enemy. The brave warrior’s twin blue blades locked in a gracefully deadly dance and were joined by a third, double sided green blade a second later. The Imperials weren’t prepared for Jedi and before he could lend support fire, they were dead. The cloaked warrior approached and judging by the Jedi’s size and figure, he knew the Jedi was female. Then she lowered her hood and Fideltin Rusk found himself looking at the most strikingly beautiful Human he’d ever seen.

With her white blond hair and fading force aura, she looked like one of the so called ‘angels of Iego’ he’d heard tales of from drunken spacers. Then her lush lips curved into a half smile, those silver eyes sparkling as if she had discovered a secret, and suddenly his thoughts were anything but pure. He’d met many members of the Jedi Order over the years, but not a single one inspired the now acutely physical reaction he was having and she hadn’t even spoken yet. It was a brief lapse from his normal disciplined self, likely a case of pure and natural battle lust, but it was enough to rattle him despite the statistics telling him it was typical for the adrenaline rush most soldiers got from the heat of battle. Focus, soldier……you’re not here for the scenery!

He snapped back to attention, standing ramrod straight as he saluted the Jedi, “Sergeant Fideltin Rusk, three hundred first infantry. My squad’s at your service, Master Jedi.”

“There’s no more squad,” the wounded soldier grunted, “We’re all that’s left.”

“We’re a squad until I say otherwise, Private,” the Sergeant insisted, still feeling a little tense over his lack of control, “Now on your feet!”

Oh stars…….and I thought Mallay was uptight, Ros barely suppressed the grin that threatened, this guy makes her look laid back in comparison!

I caught that, Kira’s snarky thought entered her mind, and you might be right……I’m still telling her you said that though.

Ros coughed to cover the giggle that erupted before she could stop it, “Apologies, Sergeant Rusk. I’m Jedi Knight Roslynd Lauren and this is Jedi Kira Carsen.” Then she nodded at the private struggling to stand, “and you need a kolto tank, Private….uh….. sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“It’s alright, Master Jedi,” he replied, “and I’m Private Murtag.”

“No need to stand up just yet, rest while you can……and please, call me Ros,” she smiled gently, “Kira and I cleared the place out, so we it should be safe to leave.”

“Looks like you’re a squad of one, Sergeant,” Kira smirked at the pinched look on the Chagrian’s face.

“He can hold a rifle,” Rusk insisted, annoyed at the Jedi’s snarky comment and a little jealous of the private on the receiving end of Roslynd’s smile, “That’s all the mission required. Our objective was to secure Imperial survey maps of the starship graveyard and our target was achieved, but Imperial counter-attackers pursued us here. Squad fatalities are sixty-six point four percent. Enemy fatalities, one hundred percent.”

Wow! Is this guy for real?! Kira’s thoughts echoed in Ros’s head.

I don’t know……I’ve ever met anyone like the Sergeant, Ros mused as she bit her cheek to keep from laughing, You think he has any idea how stiff he sounds?

“Hang on,” Murtag called out, distracting Ros from her mental conversation with Kira, “I’m picking up a fresh wave of probe droids outside……they’re headed this way!”

“Stay down, Private,” Ros commanded, all traces of the easygoing young woman fading as she ignited her sabers, looking every bit the deadly warrior she was, “The three of us can handle this!”

“No loafing,” Rusk barked at his subordinate, “You see a shot, you’d better damned well take it!”

“Yes sir,” the Private stuttered under the angry glare of his superior as he found cover behind the crate he’d been sitting against, “Here they come!”

Ros leapt in the middle of the group, those blue sabers slashing against the metal by the time Kira joined her. In truth, Rusk was almost afraid to take a shot, worried he might hit one of the Jedi and settled for firing at the hostiles furthest from those flashing sabers or anything that dared attempt to make it past the young women. Within minutes, nothing was left of the Imperial reinforcements or probe droids and both Jedi looked fatigued as they approached the soldiers.

“Enemy fatalities, one hundred percent,” Sergeant Rusk observed as he surveyed the damage. He was slightly surprised the Jedi didn’t leave any survivors, but didn’t want to offend either by commenting to that fact.

“Normally I do prefer to leave survivors, Sergeant Rusk,” Ros answered his unspoken question, those silver eyes shooting him a knowing look as her lips twitched in another one of those beguiling half smiles, “But with a wounded man, I didn’t want to take any chances.”

“Which reminds me,” Rusk called out, tearing his gaze away from that bewitching mouth of hers, “You can come out now, Private.”

“Yes, sir,” Murtag replied as he hobbled out from behind the crate, “Thank you, sir!”

“Thank these Jedi for doing your job, soldier!”

Jeez……who shoved a rifle up his a**?! Ros wondered as she arched a brow at Kira before turning to the private, “I’m just glad you’re safe, Private.”

No idea……maybe you should offer to pull it out for him, Kira shot back, turning her head to cover the laughter she was holding back, because he’s never going to win Hoth’s Mr. Congeniality contest with that attitude.

Well…….his derrière looks promising through that armor so I might consider it! Ros smirked at her friend as she knelt down next to the wounded private, “Now my medic is back at Aurek helping out with the wounded there and I’m not the healer my twin is, but thanks to my kindly neighbor growing up…..actually, he’s my step father now, I know some first aid. Let me take a look at that leg before we make our way back to base with that data.”

“Thank you, Master Jedi,” Murtag groaned as they worked at his leg plates, “I swear, any soldier trashing the Jedi gets a punch in the mouth from me……that’s a promise!”

“Eh, no need for that……we have our own ways of getting even for that crap,” Kira snorted.

“Now, now, Kira……that isn’t very Jedi-like,” Ros snickered, those silver eyes twinkling as she applied some kolto to the vicious slash on the man’s thigh.

“Oh, right…….and using the Force to prod a man into streaking naked through Carrick Station after he referred to you as a ‘namby pamby Jedi priss’ just smacks of good Jedi behavior.”

Ros didn’t even try to deny that or stop the laughter that bubbled out of her throat, “Yeah, but he really had it coming and you weren’t exactly covering your eyes when he shucked his armor.”

That tinkling sound of merriment echoed off the icy cold walls and Fideltin couldn’t help but stare at its source. He’d never met anyone like her before and that joie de vivre was a refreshing change for the stoic battle hardened soldier. He couldn’t help but be drawn to it and once again, he felt the *****les of jealousy as Murtag laughed with her. For the first time, he truly felt the isolation he’d gained through his reputation over the years. Always a private man, he’d never shared that kind of comradery……never allowed a weakness like that to invade his disciplined mentality and brushing off, even preferring the resulting loneliness, but now he felt it keenly.

A comlink interrupted his thoughts and a puzzled frown marred the Knight’s lovely features as she paused wrapping Murtag’s leg to answer it. Much to his dismay, Fideltin recognized the man in uniform who appeared.

“Master Jedi,” the older soldier’s image gave a slight bow, “I’m General Callan Grayne, Republic High Command. I’ve just arrived in orbit over Hoth to find out it’s quite a mess down there.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, General,” Ros replied, confused at why the general would be contacting her, “Is there something I can do for you?”

“There is,” Grayne replied briskly, “I’m told you commandeered some men from the three hundred first infantry for your classified operation. We’ve been scratching your backs, now it’s time to return the favor. The Imperial offensive left us in bad shape and we need your help in overcoming that.”

Annoyed at the general’s demeanor, Ros exchanged a look with Kira, also noticing Sergeant Rusk’s rigid stance as the Chagrian’s blue eyes narrowed at the Holo image. Definitely some history there, she thought to herself. Curious about that, she made a mental note to give Mallay a call when she got back to her ship later and see what her older sister knew about General Grayne and Sergeant Rusk. Despite her open and friendly nature, Ros never took people at face value and preferred to know exactly who she was working with. She’d done her homework on Master Narezz during the long flight to Hoth, but she hadn’t expected to be working directly with Republic military stationed here.

“The Jedi are always willing and ready to assist wherever we’re needed, General,” Ros bowed her head, not quite able to keep the frost from her tone, “What can I do for you?”

“Scout teams detected several Imperial weapon platforms under construction in the ice fields near our base,” Grayne explained, “If the enemy sets artillery that close, they can shoot down our shuttles. I need you to destroy those weapon platforms now!”

“Is this where I say, ‘yes, sir?’” Ros asked archly, not liking orders being barked at her…..especially from someone she’d never met and didn’t answer to. It wasn’t often that she got angry, but being treated with such obvious disrespect was enough to get her back up. However, Rusk and his men were commandeered to assist with their mission on Hoth and even if she personally wasn’t involved in that decision, she owed the unit for their aid, “Apologies, General……I’m not used to the ‘drill sergeant’ mentality, but that’s no excuse for my disrespect. Just give me the coordinates and I’ll move out immediately.”

“Sending them to you now,” Grayne nodded, then added gruffly, “and thank you.”

“Nice, Ros,” Kira snickered as soon as the call was disconnected, “It’s rare for you lose your temper like that, but always amusing when it does happen. Judging from the expression on his face, I don’t think Grayne’s used to anyone getting snotty with him.”

“He isn’t,” Rusk spoke up, “as general, he commands the due respect of those serving under him and most give it to him, Master Jedi.”

Uh-oh, Ros……looks like you jammed that rifle up further!

Yup……guess we won’t be best buddies with the Sergeant after all. Pity really, I get the feeling he isn’t popular around here. “Well, I’m not one of his grunts and I don’t serve under him,” Ros shot back, still bristling as she turned back towards the injured private. She quietly finished wrapping Murtag’s leg, regarding the Sergeant out of the corner of her eye. “Not that I expect or need it, but most people give members of my Order respect as well, Sergeant……even if they don’t like us.”

Those silver eyes locked with his for a second and Fideltin could see anger flashing in them. With a guilty pang, he realized not only had the general offended her, but he did with his comment as well. Normally it wouldn’t bother him, but he found himself wanting to put that twinkle back, wanting to see that radiant smile, to hear that laugh again……even if it wasn’t directed at him.

“You yield a gift that most are in awe of, Master Jedi,” he bowed, “Myself included and that alone deserves respect. I apologize if I’ve said or done anything that implies otherwise.”

“Let’s just move on, shall we Sergeant?” Ros offered, her annoyance fading as she felt genuine remorse pouring off the Sergeant, “I don’t usually have much of a temper, but it’s been a long day and I’m not used to freezing my butt off for so long. You and Private Murtag can take one of our speeders back to base……his leg should be fine long enough to get treated by someone who knows what they’re doing.”

“I appreciate you doing what you could, Master Jedi,” Murtag assured her, “and thank you again for saving us.”

“I’m more than happy to serve, Private,” Ros smiled as she helped him stand, “Now let’s get out of this frozen cave.”

Rusk supported his lone squad mate as they headed for the exit, Kira and Ros ahead of them, sabers ignited and ready to defend the group. However, they encountered no opposition and found their speeders untouched near the entrance. Sergeant Rusk and Private Murtag took one, both saluting the Jedi as they drove off towards Aurek. Ros brought up the coordinates Grayne sent, noticing one of the artillery platforms was nearby.

“Looks like one’s just over the hill from here,” Ros told Kira, pointing to their right, “Let’s take it out fast and move on to the others before we lose daylight and become blocks of ice.”

“Hopefully Rusk and Murtag make it back alright,” Kira nodded at the speeder getting smaller in the distance.

“I’m sure Sergeant Percentages will make it back just fine,” Ros grinned, “I’ll have to see what my sister and Aric know about our new friend.”

“Eh,” Kira shrugged, “He’s not so bad, and it bothered him when he thought he’d offended you. He just needs to learn to relax a little.”

“That’s an understatement,” Ros arched a brow at her friend, “but he’s got a determination and loyalty that I have to admire……he was ready to fight to the death to complete his mission without hesitation. Not many have that kind of courage.” Then those silver eyes sparkled with mischief, “not to mention he’s tall and has a nice butt.”

“and despite being a tad rigid,” Kira smirked as Ros started their speeder, “he’s still less annoying than Doc!”

The ‘angels of Iego’ are actually the Diathim species and you can read about them here.

@Kitar- Sorry, I haven't done the Rishi expansion yet, so I'll skip this for now. *Sigh* I'm so behind on playing. I've only finished 3 class stories and the furthest any of my characters have gotten is Section X. I'll get there, though.

@Alaurin- RE: Strange Happenings- sorry, still spoilers!

RE: Like No One I've Ever Met- You're impression of Rusk is very different than mine! To be honest, I kind of dislike him, although he's similar enough to Eyrie at that point in her story that they should get along pretty well when she gets there. But nice writing and description anyway. Sorry, I know that sounds lame

@Bright- Wary of spoilers (Warrior and Agent are the two stories I've seen the least of), I did read your summaries, and I enjoyed them. Looking forward to finishing up storylines so I can go check them out.

Lt. Felix Iresso lies in one of the bunks of The Shining Path’s main cabin and stares at the bottom of the bunk above. Though it would have been perfectly adequate space for one, two makes it a bit tight. He doesn’t mind though. Sharing with someone you love makes up for a lot.

The holocom beeps in the main living area. Felix listens to it, hoping someone else will answer. No one does. Well, it looks like it’s a good thing he woke up early, then. It might be just a personal call or low priority message, but it could also be an urgent update on the state of the war.

Now to get out of bed without waking Feyte up. She’s been sleeping much better since the news came through that Jedi Lancaster made it out of her encounter with the Sith Emperor, and he doesn’t want to disturb her. It’s easier said than done, though. She’s also taken to sleeping on her stomach with her head on his arm. Felix tries to ease out gently, but isn’t quite subtle enough. She wakes with a start, blinking in the dim light and raising herself up on her elbows. “What is it?”

“Holocall came in. You can stay in bed if you let me out.”

“OK.” She scoots out of the way to make room for the complicated process of his climbing out of bed and pulls the blanket back up as he pulls a sweatshirt over his short-sleeved shirt and boxer shorts. Yawning, he makes his way into the main living area and checks the holoterminal. A light flashes on the console. Whoever it was left a message.

He checks the sender tag. It’s Gaden Ko, the leader of the combined force’s Voss. He probably wants to talk to Feyte. Returning to the side of their bed, he explains the situation to her, quietly to avoid waking up Nadia or the representative.

She nods, looking a little worried as she follows him into the main room, pulling a Jedi robe over her knee-length white nightgown. Gaden Ko appears in the terminal. Felix has trouble reading Voss expressions, but there’s no mistaking the worry in the Mystic’s voice. “Greetings, honored one. We must ask for your help with a grave matter. Our forces have encountered a strong pocket of resistance, and we request your assistance in destroying it. We believe it may be one of the remaining Children of the Emperor. Please contact us as soon as you get this message.”

The holo disappears and Felix looks at Feyte. “I thought Master Bakarn was the last of the Children?”

“I did as well, but given their nature, there could always be more. I’ll have to go back there.”

“But you said you’d report to the Jedi council tomorrow. You’ll barely make it as is, never mind if we go back to Corillia.”

“They’ll just have to wait, then. This is too important.” Her jaw sets in an expression Felix knows well. Feyte claims she doesn’t have the same galactic savior mentality that causes Eyrie so much trouble, but it’s there alright.

“Why don’t I do it?”

“What?”

“I can go back and help out Gaden Ko, and you can keep your meeting with the Jedi council. I’ll meet you on Tython once we have everything cleared up. I’m sure it won’t take long.”

“But-“

“Feyte, I’ve been in the Republic army for years. I’ve done more anti-insurgent operations than you can count. That’s what I was doing on Hoth, remember?”

“And we all know how well that was turning out,” she replies teasingly, but he can tell he’s won her over. “At least take Qyzen with you?”

“I will.” He gives her a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Don’t worry, Feyte. I’ll be fine.”

Why did I agree to do this? Felix wonders as he walks along a half-destroyed street. A building had collapsed in a bombing run- Empire or Republic, it didn’t matter- and debris are scattered across the pavement. A mound of duracrete and twisted rebar blocks their path, and the Voss leading him and Qyzen starts to climb it. “It is not far,” she calls softly.

Felix hopes so. Something about this place makes him nervous. Pulling himself onto the top of the pile, he looks around. It looks like the bunker the combined force has been using as a base in this sector is under the destroyed building. It’s pretty well hidden, but he’s seen enough bunkers in his life that he knows what to look for.

Sure enough, the Voss leads them to a door hidden amongst the piles of rubble. A moment later, it opens and a trio of armed Esh-ka appear. Felix lets them lead him and Qyzen inside and follows them down a narrow sloped tunnel, dimly lit by rod lights. He wants to make some quip about how much it looks like an Imperial base in here, but decides that nobody would get it, and it’s a bad time for one anyway.

They come out of the tunnel in a large room, slightly better lit than the last one, with the same closed-in feel that every bunker he’s ever been in has. Gaden Ko is leaning over a table built for humans, but straightens up at their approach. “You are here. Thank you for coming.”

“No problem. What do you need, exactly?”

“When you first left, our troops were routing the Imperials. But recently, we ran into trouble when we attempted to retake this sector. Whoever is commanding them is very strong, very clever. We think he may be one of the Children of the Emporor.”

Qyzen shakes his head. “Is not likely. The Herald of Scorekeeper would never allow an enemy to escape.”

“You can’t tell who the children are before they reveal themselves,” Felix reminds him. “Remember Master Bakarn?”

He grunts in response. Felix turns back to the Voss mystic. “Child or not, we’ll sort this thing out. What do you know so far?”

I wanted to do a Lt. Iresso tribute piece, like I've done for Qyzen, Nadia, and Bowdaar, and I also wanted to do a sweet romance piece for him and Feyte. However, I also knew that he's his own person who shouldn't be compleately defined by his relationship to her, and I knew that romance has a way of taking over stories. This prompt was perfect, since it gave them a chance to be together at the beginning, but let Iresso act independently for most of the story.

I also alluded to this event (in advance of planning this story, actually) in You Again, which covers an event from Feyte's return to Tython.

The council members filed into the expansive room, many looking tired. We’d heard about Empire’s latest actions on Kaon and Ord Mantell; how the Tion hegemony hailed their strike force as heroes and how the empire had spun Lorrick’s Rakghoul menace as Republic aligned because his lab was in our space. I looked around the council chamber, old faces fraught with concern and new ones, equally grave.

The year had been fraught with loss. Masters Kaeden, Braga and Bakarn were gone: fallen in battle or to darkness. We lost Master Din the year before, to the desolator crisis. Master Jaen had taken Orgus’ seat, Oteg had taken Braga’s place and our new Barsen’thor had accepted her mentor’s seat. Now, the only seats left vacant were Jaedan’s and mine. He wouldn’t return to fill it, the empire saw to that on Ilum. I sat, and the session began.

Overhead, the holocamera whirred into life. Every council session is recorded, so we can go back and look for hidden meaning in our words. The force is a wonderful, miraculous thing, but it is cryptic. A turn of phrase or misplaced metaphor could indicate its presence, guiding our actions. It could also be just a cultural idiom.

Across the table, the Barsen’thor, warden of the order, raised her hand. She was a small Mirialan woman, maybe in her early twenties, and definitely no heavier than fifty kilos. She wore a purple variation on traditional peacemaker robes, with glowing sections on her arms, belt and between her shoulder blades. She was one of the newest members of the council, and it showed. In meetings, no one had to seek permission to speak. Only tradition held it that the grandmaster opened sessions, and while I could overrule their decisions, I have never yet done so.

“Grandmaster, if I may say a few words before we begin?” I nodded, opening the floor to our Barsen’thor. Slowly, she stood, smoothing her skirts as she readied herself, to address her new fellows.

“Long have the Jedi sought peace, balance and to protect light and life. In this last year, war has flared across the galaxy, darkness touching places we never thought possible, like our temple home on Ilum. Millennia of peaceful exploration, our curiosity tempered by the force, was shattered under their imperial jackboots. Their deceit caused our expulsion from Voss, a culture shaped by ours, yet radically different. A few days ago, the Tion Hegemony recalled its Republic senator. With all this darkness around us, it can be hard not to forget that there is light all around us, when we can even dare to hope for better times ahead.

Master Jaen’s efforts in the Emperor’s ritual crisis have silenced the emperor, hopefully forever,” she ignored the older Jedi’s derisive snort. Ah, I see we did not lose the voice of pessimistic reason along with Master Kaedan.

“But even if it is only a temporary respite from his darkness, it may be enough. Fear is the primary tool he used to compel obedience and already the reach of that fear is dwindling. Darth Malgus, the sacker of our Coruscant home betrayed the empire, stealing a portion of its military might. While a team of Republic Commandoes has dealt with him and his new empire, the old is still unravelling. How many Sith will win free from the dark council, now that they are no longer backed by their deified emperor?

Already, the Dark Council makes overtures and alliances with non-humans, an act they thought inconceivable not two years ago. These are not the acts of a confident ruler, but a desperate one. This war may be over soon, and then our guidance will never be more needed.

With all this darkness, we must not forget the light. Today, Wookies gather across the galaxy to be with their families and friends. They come together not out of greed but love, and there is no purer expression of the light than love. Perhaps, in this time of darkness, we too shall celebrate,” a wry smile crossed her sallow features. Her arm was a blur of motion, winding back to throw her grenade, and a fusillade of snow threw her from her chair. We all remember Master Kaedan’s ambush last year.

He had hammered Wens with a snowball partway through a meeting to illustrate how complacent he felt we were becoming. Master Aleusis’ retort spattered over him almost immediately. It turns out that a small cooling unit hidden in a sleeve cannot compare with the power of the force. Master Aleusis buried Jaric in an impromptu drift. The Barsen’thor fared little better.

The Barsen’thor rolled out of her frosty bed, coming up to a crouch. Her purple skirts were sodden, and the bands around her arms flashed purple. They must’ve been shield emitters, since an almost transparent sphere surrounded her. Oric’s throw exploded on the shield, but Bela’s ball patted her dark hair.

“Now!” she called, pulling the force around her, wreathing her from sight. The door burst open and several dozen children charged in. They were of all ages and all races, from little five-year olds starting in the youngling clans to eighteen-year old Padawans. All of them however, had snowballs in one shape or another. A pale-skinned girl with blue facial markings led the charge, a snowball in one hand, and a nine-year old Wookie’s paw in the other. I couldn’t place her name. She must be a new addition to our order.

A few of their instructors and some helpful volunteers, followed behind, wheeling large metal cylinders. I recognised Leeha Narezz and Jomar Chul among them. Her strange little astromechs trundled alongside her, beeping happily to each other. The metal cylinders whirred as they sprayed the air with white powder. My hand flicked towards my lightsaber, but a flash of insight told me it was just snow. Darth Dramirat was long dead, his neurotoxin spore machines destroyed.

The spray hung in the air, though I could see many of the Padawans reaching up, drawing the mist into congealed balls. A light rain of snowballs dusted the younglings, replacing the ones they’d thrown, mostly at me.

I raised my hand, drawing upon the force and shaping it into a disc. It wasn’t a strong shield: it wouldn’t stop rocks or anything truly solid, but snowballs would be fine. A quartet of white explosions spattered the shield, obscuring the throwers. Triumphant shouts were thwarted, though few of my compatriots fared as well.

Gnost Dural caught one straight in the face, snow exploding over his breath mask and eye covers. Bela moved with

feline grace, dodging and weaving balls as she leapt out of her seat. Togruta montrals truly were wonderful things. They were hollow and gave her a clear depiction of her surroundings through echolocation. With that aiding the force, she was almost impossible to hit.

Masters Traless, Fane and Bestros shared a shield, similar to mine but much stronger. I could see Orec and Giffis’s power flowing freely into Shol, augmenting the shield so it could stop the oncoming avalanche. I couldn’t see Oteg anywhere, but I felt the desire to look away, to seek other targets, when I turned to glance at his seat. Master Aleusis had taken his, the Barsen’thor’s and Bela’s chairs; using them as anchors for the icy walls he layered between. Any snowballs that strayed too close were absorbed into his impromptu fort.

A Mon Calla, maybe four or five charged straight at me, a breadbasket sized snowball held up over her head. Reaching me, she pumped it into the air and promptly fell over. The huttball sized snowball spattered over my stomach, and those big moist eyes became huge. Smiling at the child, I bent down and picked her up. As my fingers graced her robe, I felt the warm tingle of the force. She was strong with the force, even at her age. Glancing across the room, I caught Jomar Chul’s eye.

The Zabrak glanced away from Master Narezz, a flicker of apprehension flashing over his face when he saw me looking. So, they were involved: that’s not a great problem, as long as they remain detached and true to the force. I only fear that the bumps in a relationship may shake Leeha into relapse. His apprehension became relief and acceptance as I glanced at the child in my arms. He nodded in understanding.

I let go of the girl, the force spiriting her into Jomar’s arms. She squealed happily all the way, waving her arms as if she swam through the air. Her graceful flailing reminded me of the Coral Depths Opera Theatre on Dac, where the waters were so oxygenated that air breathing species could immerse themselves and watch. He caught her, sitting her in the crook of one arm while handing her a freshly made snowball. She giggled and threw it with all her might. It spattered one of the younglings in the front rows. The youngling, a six-year-old dark skinned human, glanced back, and tossed his snowball at Jomar. The knight caught it, bounced it once and then slammed it into my shield. Cracks flew across the shield, but it held, barely.

Master Jaen stood off to the side, honour blade drawn but unpowered. The burly human had stripped off his dark red outer robe, revealing the muscles on muscles that was his chest. His long white hair and beard were completely dry, as his blade blurred, turning snowballs aside without them breaking. Watching the tight spins and almost lazy parries was hypnotic, and I almost missed the incoming ball. I let my tattered shield drop: it wouldn’t hold anything back. Slipping to the side, I heard a yelp behind me, and saw the Barsen’thor. She was smearing snow off her face, though it was nothing compared to the large pile of snow at her feet. Gnost Dural’s rich voice buzzed a laugh from across the room. I flashed a light frown at him, but nothing more. We may be Jedi, but we are all sentients. We love, we laugh and we like to get our own back on tricky little wardens.

The Kel Dor master ignored the look, instead pulling one of the trios of snowballs orbiting his head into his hand. Flexing his fingers, the snowball became an intricate geometric sculpture, a series of rings forming a shell around a ball. He flicked it away, and the rings fired off, spattering on the trio’s shield while the ball gave Bela a good test of her agility.

Reaching out, I felt my will gather under the drift at the Barsen’thor’s feet. Could Tarmin parry this? The Barsen’thor flipped back, barely avoiding snow from shooting up her skirt as I lifted the load. There is a reason many combat-ready Jedi tend to wear loose trousers and it’s not for aesthetics. Turning, I focussed my will and threw the drift at Master Jaen.

He didn’t even try to parry the snow: it wouldn’t have worked. Instead, he leapt back, arcing gracefully over the small drift, blade spinning around his body to ward off the guided snow missiles. When the snow passed through where he had been, he let loose with a push powerful enough to spatter snow over the nearest dozen of his tiny attackers. Childish screams of surprise filled the air, as they scattered, vainly trying to avoid the drift.

“And this, Padawans, is why you should listen to your instructors. Everything I have shown you can be learnt from them,” Tarmin proselytised, already turning a trio of snowballs aside. Something slapped the back of his head and he faltered. A quintet of snowballs he would have parried spattered his front.

“You forget that age and treachery will beat youth and skill, my friend,” Master Oteg chided, appearing on his shoulder. Tarmin and I hadn’t felt him approach, and if the Barsen’thor had, she made no sign.

“And you forget, Master Oteg, not to approach someone unless you can handle them in melee,” Tarmin warned, reaching for the small Jedi. Oteg moved surprisingly fast for a senior, scurrying down Master Jaen’s shirtless back, his claws leaving light scratches on the large man. Tarmin stopped trying to grab the Jedi, instead flexing his arms in a power gesture I knew all too well. My shield came up just in time to stop the nova of snow. Master Oteg went flying, turning himself in the air so he could land on the council table. He didn’t get the chance.

The barsen’thor leapt, catching Oteg the same way one would a Huttball. Turning a somersault in the air, she landed atop the council table and vanished with a wave of her hand. Apparently it was just in time, for Master Bestros’s shield exploded, wreathing the air with snow.

Masters Bestros and Traless sallied forth, snow wrapping around Shol as he charged. Soon, he was a living snowman, with only his dark-skinned nose and mouth exposed to fire. He raised a hand, and tiny pellets spattered the front row. Squeals and screams filled the air as the younglings broke ranks, trying to avoid the snowy fire. Oric however, had formed a smaller dome around him, and instead was working on gathering snow straight as it left the blowers. Boulders too heavy to stay aloft powered down, spattering the ranks with frosty artillery.

Master Fane’s assault however, was the most devastating. She quietly flicked snowballs tossed from the back row down, into the front. Chaos exploded as the front rank, hammered by Bestros’ fire and Giffis’ trickery, disintegrated. Behind them, the other ranks joined suit. Chaos reigned as the younger generation fought the masters and each other.

“You know, grandmaster Shan, you really should join in,” the Barsen’thor’s whispered somewhere to my left.

“I am perfectly fine just watching, Master Cierra,” I responded to no one in particular.

“Wow, that makes me sound old,” she remarked, the surprise clear in her voice. I bit back a smile.

“Experience doesn’t always mean age. You’ve endured as much as many masters already and I suspect you will only keep growing.” I reminded her, keeping my voice light and calm as I saw Bela dodge another geometric ring, only to run into Wens’ Icy walls. A crack shot through it as she rebounded, landing gracelessly on her posterior. Through the crack, a howling gale fired snow, burying the rising master.

The pale-skinned young woman who had led the charge leapt at the wall, a hand outstretched. The ice wall reverberated as she channelled an eruption of the force through her palm and into the crack. Then, with a terrible weight, the wall came crashing down, revealing a surprised Wens. He spun to face his wall-cracker, a hand raised before him.

“Now!” she screamed, dropping into a ball. Master Aleusis disappeared in the flurry of snow.

“Your Padawan, I take it,” I asked, nodding at the young woman, who was searching through the drift where Master Kiwiiks had vanished.

“Yes; this was her-I mean, she gave me the idea,” Cierra corrected herself, quickly rewording to protect her Padawan from any consequence, “and she needs it.”

“How so,” I asked, watching the young Sarkhai pulse part of the snowdrift into Master Jaen. Unlike mine, he barrelled forwards, ploughing through it as if it were nothing. She let loose an excited shriek of laughter and rolled, dodging the large Jedi’s snow strewn wake. Tarmin continued, undaunted, sweeping the snow covering his chest off and into the concealed Bela.

“She used to have snowball fights with the princes and the children of other noble dignitaries. This would have been the first time she’ll miss them, and it’s the first Karimass without her father.” I see. This is more than just an expression of family, bringing the generations together to have fun. She’s trying to make her Padawan feel better. I may not know what Karimass is, but…

“It’s a Sarkhai custom celebrating the bonds of family and friends, typically at their Summer solstice, when the Night Predators are least active,” she explained, without prompting. My mind flicked over my mental boundaries as she explained, but I knew they were not how she knew. The force works in many ways, but the Jedi are attuned to the part that values life and learning over power.

With the assault on Master Aleusis, every last Councillor had joined in, in one way or another. I suppose it was time to join in as well…

After an hour or so, the battle began to lull. Padawans and younglings started faltering, unused to channelling the force for so long. Every master, myself included, was sodden. While we all knew mantras to ward off our perception of the cold, Giffis, and Wens were elderly. Like a fire that had ran out of fuel, it was time to let the embers of this party fade.

Reaching out, I touched the minds of everyone here. The art of Battle Meditation was rare, and not easily learnt, but I used it often enough. With it, I could link individuals, groups and even a fleet through the force, their resolve and determination bolstering each other. Here, I let the joy flow through everyone, Master to Padawan, knight to youngling. With the joy though, I sent tiredness to the younger generations, a desire to go to their dorms and rest. Unlike Giffis’ subterfuge, it was an imperceptible difference, but it made all the difference.

Within ten minutes, the last of the children were ushered away, back to their dorms or their studies. With the doors sealed and the chairs back where they had been before all this, we resumed our council session. Many of the masters had stripped off their sodden gear. Instead, they wore fresh brown robes that Padawan Grell had obtained beforehand.

“I believe that our new first topic should be that Master Cierra should be in charge of the clean-up. All in favour?”

No sooner had I suggested the topic, every master rose their hand in assent, even our Barsen’thor. All, save for Master Aleusis. I glanced at him. Wens was never one for denying consequence, but he sat, deliberating. I said nothing. I endeavour not to use my position to influence my fellows’ opinion. If he wanted to debate the merits of what I thought to be an apt and amusingly appropriate consequence, I certainly would not deny him.

Instead, he rose. The wind whipped around us as one of the eldest Masters on the council began his working. Snow drifted up, as eddies and zephyrs of the force bundled them into nine neat balls. Slowly, the balls grew, the smallest trio becoming the same size as Master Oteg. They stacked atop a trio that were perhaps a metre in diameter and these stacked on one as large as Master Cierra was. Slowly, they drifted over and slumped down on the centre of the table. The rest floated out of the windows.

“It is traditional to exchange gifts on this day my fellow Masters, and what greater gift is there than to be young again, even if only for a little while? Master Cierra, the freedom to spend what’s left of the day however the force directs you is my gift to you,” Master Wens announced, a smile showing beneath his wispy beard. Master Cierra bowed her head, accepting with grace and possibly the largest smile I had ever seen from such a small mouth.

The snow piles shifted, parts rising and refining, to become a statue of three beings, a Devaronian and a twi’lek, hand in hand and leaning against each other as they faced… me. The central column refined further, and I made out a little Mon calla girl, the same one I’d sent floating earlier. The Devaronian and twi’lek refined, becoming an armoured Zabrak with a Republic emblem on his belt buckle, and a Nautolan in standard Jedi robes: Jomar and Leeha. Both knights leant against each other, holding a hand together and welcoming the flying child with the other. Apparently, I hadn’t been the only one to see their affection.

“I didn’t know you were a sculptor, Wens,” Master Fane remarked, glancing at the elder Jedi with more than a little amusement in her voice. Giffis loved architecture and art: much of the temple’s design had been her work. Master Aleusis had opposed her at nearly every step, insisting function should supersede form. We had been an order that had recently lost our home, reduced to a handful of temples and the few ships we could beg or borrow from the Republic. If he had his way, we would have built a bunker, and hidden deep beneath the Tythos ridge. Eventually, they had compromised, keeping her most structurally durable design and putting the quartet of turbolaser turrets outside.

“No, that was me,” Master Dural admitted, his chuckle buzzing through his breathing apparatus.

“Aren’t they a little close to catch the child?” Master Traless asked, his smooth brow crinkled by concern. Ah, not everyone agreed about their relationship. Officially, we frown upon love and attachment, as it can lead the unwary down a dark path. Leeha was forced down that road; I doubt she would ever willingly tread it again. Normally, we would insist they take a sabbatical, and return once they are ready to resume service, but we can be lenient, and let them continue active duty, albeit watching and testing their judgement every few months.

“Let it go, Oric. Jomar’s a good man. He won’t let her fall from their love,” Master Jaen rebutted, reaching across the table to reclaim and sheathe the honour-blade he’d left there.

“Speaking from experience, Tarmin,” Bela asked, turning to watch the human. I vaguely remembered his sabbatical: he left to be with the woman he loved, and his duty tore their love apart. It was a long time ago, a lifetime for some.

“I am, Master Kiwiiks,” he agreed resolutely, nodding just enough for his long straight beard to tap his chest. There was something behind the resolve, sadness in his eyes and a longing for others to have what he could not. I could understand that.

I felt it too, whenever I thought about Jace. Whether I had been wrong about his strength to fight the hate within him, and whether I should have told him about Theron. I smiled at the memory of the hulking soldier, his scars invisible next to that almost shy smile. I set my memories aside, just as I had long ago. We had a meeting to conclude.

Council business continued, but the mood was lighter. We have lost in the last year, but we have gained as well. Surely, such balance is the will of the force and in the end, what else do we serve?

May, 11 ATC – two months before the confirmation of the Wrath

Darth Baras looked down over the private practice yard, its high walls casting a dusty red shade over the yard proper. He did not like to advertise his experiments.

Here a single battle droid squared off against four acolytes, their vibroblades stinging a certain sourness into the air. Yesterday they had been children. Today they were Sith. Tomorrow, if they lived, they would be his apprentices.

The programming was written for a much, much more formidable Sith; Baras simply observed the bugs being worked out before it graduated to more serious hardware and more serious opponents. A more serious opponent in particular. Her time had not yet come.

The droid had taken one acolyte down nearly instantly. Two more were charging it. When the blaster fire started one darted behind the other, the better to get a few steps closer out of the line of fire.

And so two were down. They had performed well in the other trials, but it seemed that their potential wasn’t worth the time it would have taken him to cultivate it. Ah, well. There was always someone else willing to step forward and be tested. This was the proper forging of a Sith: not practice rounds, not blunted edges, but competition and victory or death.

His mind strayed to his three most promising apprentices in the field, now Lords in their own right but solidly within his power network. The first had died recently, an annoyance but not unrecoverable. There were already more vying to take her place. Lord Draahg still served him faithfully, though he was having trouble in his given task of tracing the disavowed third apprentice, Lord Niral.

Baras, of course, knew exactly where Lord Niral was and what she was doing. That information was funneled regularly back via her new husband, Malavai Quinn, the asset from Balmorra. Baras would not grant Draahg that information until it was advantageous. In actuality Baras was in no hurry for that chase to progress just yet; Quinn had found a use for Ruth Niral even after Baras’s dictum that she was to die. For when Baras made an enemy of her, some fascinating players made her their ally. And Quinn was feeding him every minute of it, all while preparing for Ruth’s death. When the Emperor’s Hand was where Baras wanted it to be, Baras would paralyze it. He had made their Wrath. He could unmake her as easily.

All in good time. For now, he watched and he waited, gathering information on the Hand’s resources and goals. He summoned Quinn for face-to-holo reports where he could; the man was capable but he was under increasing strain from what might laughingly be called Ruth’s charisma, and though Quinn had belonged to Baras since Ruth was just a girl, it was best to check in frequently to remind Quinn of his ultimate loyalties. He had proved to be a good operative, one of the best. Thanks in no small part to Quinn’s expertise Ruth had delivered Taris, had delivered Vengean, would yet deliver the Emperor’s Hand. He could die satisfied in his service. And would, once Ruth Niral was used up.

The fourth acolyte was still moving. She hid behind the still forms of two of her competitors while the droid unleashed a stream of blaster fire; the instant it let up the girl sprinted, twisted, leaped, and bodily dragged one of the droid’s blasters into firing line with the other. She rolled away before the resulting fire detonated both plasma canisters. She took up her vibrosword and looked around, poised and ready for the next attack.

Oh, yes. She would do. Quinn would have to fix that vulnerability in the next round of programming. Baras left the window and returned to his desk to issue orders.

This makes me curious about a cross section of Baras’s machine the day after the man himself dies. How many acolytes, how many apprentices, how many spies, how many slaves…how many of them believe he’s really gone? Where do they go and what do they do? In the Ruth!verse Ruth tracks down and utilizes a number of these resources, promising more rational governance. But I doubt she’s nice to the competing Sith.

The tomb flagstones were cold to the touch. That hadn’t been a problem when I came through here the first time. I’d had my boots back then. All around me were the sarcophagi of honoured retainers, artefacts of unrivalled value and statues of slaves bowed in servitude. Yeah, this place was a treasure trove: just one problem though. It was looming behind me, toying with the control to the shock collar around my neck.

I had guided my new master into the tombs, trying to avoid the other acolytes that roamed the halls. It looked like this was the meeting place for rivals to kill each other without anyone interfering. We’d certainly passed enough bodies to fill that quota. Really didn’t want to run into any of them though. I’d avoided them last time too, but I’d had my blasters then.

A breeze blew in behind me, sending shivers down my legs. Last time, I’d worn a stolen robe over everything to hide my race and gear. This time, I would’ve settled for clothes. I wasn’t doing naked tomb raiding for my own health though, far from it. It was the Sith’s twisted idea, a condition on his restraint. Yeah right. Don’t r@pe me now, promise to break and r@pe me later: the Sith idea of restraint. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like being violated as much as the next sane girl, but the looming threat of it sucks too. I could feel his eyes pour over on me, savouring my quiet terror and constantly deciding whether to break his promise.

Reaching up, I felt the fresco brush against my stomach. If I was right, hitting the third tile up should trigger the hidden switch. Then, the door would just swing open. Hey, maybe his boss would order my release if I asked? It’s a long shot, but he might be a decent human being who’d want a good treasure hunter instead of another broken sex toy. I glanced at the still cooling body of Vemrin in the middle of the floor. If he just cast his favoured acolyte aside like he was nothing, he wouldn’t even blink to do the same to some alien slave.

The rumble of stone against stone filled the antechamber as the two statues, slaves holding canopic jars, turned to face each other and withdrew. The central line of the wall slunk down into the ground, while the fresco sides slid to join the statues.

“Uh, you’re welcome,” pre-empting his thanks. I knew they weren’t coming, but maybe I could get him to think of me as more than a bunch of holes to fill.

“If you want me to show gratitude, just ask,” he sneered, leering at my breasts. Not remotely what I had in mind, and not what I wanted in his. The sicko had made it clear earlier that he wanted to break me, reduce me to one of the whimpering slave girls so desperate for love that they’d beg a Sith to take them. That’s not going to happen, ever!

I clutched myself, hiding my b00bs and half-turned away from him as I pretended to shiver. Okay, so I’m not that great an actress but I had a hell of an advantage. It was freezing down here: just check how hard my nips are. Actually don’t, okay. Pain exploded, white hot. Ran down my neck, stabbing spine and chilled toes. I jerked and fell, twitching on the floor. Then it was gone, leaving the only stabbing after-burn.

“What? What did I do?” I asked, glaring up at him. Tall, dark hair and deep red skin, he was the picture of Sith. Tentacles lined his sharp jawline, and a growth that looked suspiciously like a goatee crested his chin. If he weren’t a sick psycho, he’d almost look handsome.

“Slaves don’t hide their master’s assets. You will display everything for me to see and for all I so choose,” he sneered, turning the control over his fingers with practiced ease. The sicko must’ve done this before. A wicked rictus contorted his tentacle face. I realised that I must’ve rolled over while helpless on the floor, because he was staring straight at my crotch.

“They don’t talk back, either.”

I was ready for it this time, but that didn’t make it hurt less. I jerked helplessly on the floor as agony ran down my lekku.

“What’s this?” he and feigned looking right down between my legs theatrically. He knelt between my legs before I realised he’d moved.

My skin crawled and I tried to follow it away from him. Didn’t work though, he just reached in and uh, held the bit at the top. Pocketing the control, he reached towards me and ran his sharp nails down either side of my, of my bits. His nails dug into the soft folds of my flesh, a painful raking sensation that felt so sick and twisted and wrong it sent a shiver up my spine. After forever, he took his nails out, bringing one up to his face and Eww. He licked his nail, savouring the taste of whatever his nails took. Gonna be a bit gross here, but pain makes you sweat. Not getting to wash in a fortnight just made it worse.

“If you really desire my touch, you only have to ask,” he crooned, his voice a conspiratorial whisper but I heard every word. I got the underlying threat too. He would torture me, mixing pain and pleasure until I cracked. He drew the remote again, flipping it so the trigger was on the bottom and pressed it against my neck. Slowly, he drew the trigger down, running it past my collarbone and between my breasts. I stayed absolutely still, fearing even to breathe. Any movement could trigger it.

He picked that moment to jerk my downstairs with his other hand. I gasped, pulling a sharp breath. Pain stabbed through my neck, back and lekku. That breath became a shuddering scream as phantom sensations tingled all over my body. I bit down, barely aware that my tongue wasn’t in the way. I arched my back, convulsing, and the pain stopped. I, I couldn’t take much more like that, and I tried my best to hide it. His wicked little smirk told me he’d seen my lapse. Then he turned, whirling to his feet. Relief flooded through me but realisation turned it cold. Did I really want to meet anything that made Proud and Arrogant here pause?

One hand went up for his vibroblade, the other out warding him against something I couldn’t see. Then, whatever it was, it slugged him, hard. The sicko went staggering back, slamming into one of the statues. Despite myself, I cheered. What? Even if it is some force-using monster, it was better than being left with him.

The monster showed itself, a sandy haired teenager maybe a year younger than me. He wore one of those armoured jerkins and pants I’d seen other acolytes wear, but they were a sea blue. Over it, he had a metal mantle with a flashlight shining from his collar. A pair of acolytes loomed behind him, one tanned and the other Sith. All three had vibroblades out, ready for action.

“No more,” he tolled, shadowing whispers echoing around the antechamber. The three drew their outstretched hands back and advanced in unison. Wow, if I didn’t know better, I’d say they choreographed that.

I’d overheard the sicko whine about someone he viewed as too weak, which counted pretty much everyone. He’d managed to survive the last trial through outside help, and that was meant to be bad. Anyway, this member of the 99% had been called Klemral. This must be him, and his outside help.

“No more, Patrius. You’ll fall here and Darth Baras won’t hand all that power over to a filthy degenerate,” the middle Sith I thought to be Klemral announced, advancing on Patrius. Sad to say it, but the pureblood was getting up, all together not bruised enough. He must’ve used the force to lessen the blow. Hope it hurt though.

“You really think you can stop me, Klemral,” the sicko snarled, confirming my suspicions even as he drew his warblade.

“I know you won’t leave here alive, degenerate,” Klemral snarled back, his flat face twisting into a rage-fuelled mask. The man was gone, this was a battle between Sith.

Patrius charged in, sailing through the air with feral grace. As he moved, I spotted something long and silvery rolling on the ground: the collar control! Still half watching his fight, I furtively made my way over to it.

Despite everything, the sicko knew swordplay. He weaved his blade in an elaborate series of feints and half strikes, and it was all the three could manage to keep it at bay. Every parry drained them, left them slightly slower. The drain on Klemral was harder than on the others, and I guessed he had to be keeping up whatever it was that let them fight as one. Slowly, they fell back, drawing him away from the secret passage and me.

Eventually, Patrius screwed up. He whaled on Klemral with a full overhead strike, expecting the smaller Sith to parry of dodge. He didn’t. Instead, he met Patrius head on, rage fuelled blow against rage-fuelled block. They locked, neither truly able to dominate the other, physically or through the force. They stood there, while Klemral’s buddies swung at the sicko. Sideways slashes swept at his side, and he had to leap into the air, abandoning the lock to stay alive. Klemral took the opportunity to stagger back, regaining his will after that onslaught.

Spinning in the air, Patrius lashed out with both muscled legs, driving them into Klemral’s backup. They both staggered back, the connection broken but for a moment. Klemral glanced up and then gasped as Patrius sank his blade into his chest. The two were at him again, but this time Patrius vaulted over Klemral, and their strikes hit him instead.

Patrius kicked him in the back savagely, and it must’ve been force assisted because it punted Klemral across the antechamber, to maybe a metre from me. He landed in a heap, blood spilling onto the sandy flagstones and lying at an impossible angle. The kick must’ve snapped his spine. That had to hurt, but it didn’t show on his face. Instead, he glanced around till he saw me. Slowly, jerkily, he waved me over. No idea why, but I went to him.

“Hi, I’m Klemral,” he wheezed, clutching at his wounds. His tunic was mostly dark with blood already forming a pool around him that just kept growing. He didn’t have long without a Kolto tank, and they wouldn’t give him one. He was a failed acolyte who got hurt attacking the apprentice of a Darth. The med-techs would torture him to death just to curry favour.

“Vette,” I greeted, easing his head up onto my lap. Just because he was going to die didn’t mean he had to suffer in his last moments.

“Wish we could’ve gotten to know each other before now, Vette. Your presence feels nice, y’know, for a starved naked alien slave.” I stared at him, not sure whether to dump his head off my lap. Yeah, he’d gotten stabbed keeping Patrius off me, but was it for the noble reasons I’d assumed? He was Sith.

“That’s not a bad thing. It’s nice knowing I die with someone soothing nearby.” Okay, so he wasn’t Patrius MK II. Glancing up, I saw the Sith grab one of Klemral’s buddies and throw him into the other. I fiddled with the collar control.

If I could get it off, I could run, hide in the tomb. No-one else had found a way into the burial chamber, so where else hadn’t they found? Sure, the idea of hiding out in this creepy place without any gear wasn’t that great, but I’m not staying here to be Patrius’ plaything.

“Hey, pass that here and I’ll figure out its code,” Klemral offered, reaching for the control. I jerked it up, away from him, demanding,

“Why?”

“We’re the distraction. Everything we can do to screw that pr1ck buys us time. Look, do you want to be free or not?” He didn’t look trustworthy but what choice did I have? It’d take me hours to crack the code, and that’s assuming there weren’t any anti-tampering features. I handed it to him. Wait, what did he mean distraction? What were they distracting the sicko from?

“Who do you work for?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he scrunched up his eyes, his face a grimace of agony. Then it was gone, and he was calm again. He opened his eyes and twisted the little dials along the trigger’s length.

“And they said psychometry was a waste of my talents.” He thumbed the trigger and a weight fell from my shoulders. My free hand shot up, searching for that literal pain in my neck, only to find a raw welt where the prongs had touched the back of my neck. My hand lingered, and realisation hit me like a stream of warm water. I was uncollared, unchained, unbowed. I was free. A calloused hand, worn from his harsh life, graced my cheek. I hadn’t noticed I was crying.

A drop ran down my nose, dripping onto his cracked lips. His tongue languidly slithered out, licking his moistened lip.

“As last meals go, twi’lek tears aren’t so bad,” he wheezed with a little chuckle. He was dying, and we both knew it. He and his friends couldn’t protect me: they couldn’t even protect themselves from the Sith Pureblood. I should run, make a break for it if I was going to hide in the tomb. Delaying any longer would waste Klemral’s sacrifice, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t leave him like this: I’m no callous Sith, and I never will be.

“Hey, come on, you just saved me. You can’t die here, not without me buying you a great big drink. C’mon, as last drinks go, Rishi Rum is so much better than tears,” I pleaded with him. That wheezing chuckle stayed with me, haunting me and I had a feeling it would stay with me for years.

“I didn’t save you. I’d still be with Gnash in the Jails if Roan hadn’t called in his favour,” he admitted, straining to be heard over the rattling wheeze. Patrius had to have pierced his lung or something.

“Wait, who’s Roan?” he didn’t answer. Instead, I felt his hand fall from my cheek. I reached down and closed his dark brown eyes. Finally, he was at peace. A shadow darkened the area around me. I didn’t look up, I knew who it was. I’d lost my opportunity to escape by staying with Klemral. Any moment now, he’d pick up my collar and chain me to a bitter future of torture and abuse. I-I don’t know if I can live with that, knowing it’s all I have left. No: better to run and end it all now. The door was open: he didn’t need me alive anymore.

A snap hiss cracked around the room. This time, I did look up. A figure stood in the entrance to the burial chamber, holding a crimson lightsaber. I couldn’t make out much behind the lightsaber, but I did see the long purple robe that reached down to the flagstones. Around him were the remains of ragged men in bandages, a vision of Sith mummies, a horror cliché old before the return of the empire.

“You killed Klem!” His voice was high pitched and quiet, but I heard the simmering rage behind every syllable.

“You should not have gotten involved, boy. Now, you’ll join-,” Patrius began, gloating with that perpetual sneer. I hadn’t expected the new guy to wait around listening to him monologue. I also didn’t expect him to blur forwards and uppercut the jerk in the nuts.

Patrius shrieked as he flew up, crashing into one of the statues. His striker whirled in the air, fist stretched up like off a superhero holo before sinking back down to the ground. He was short, thin and realisation slapped me in the face. He wasn’t short: he was a kid.

The kid surged forwards, laying into Patrius’s side with a full, booted punt. Again, this had to be force assisted because it sent cracks running all the way up the statue. Parts started toppling, falling on the sicko and kid alike. He darted back, his eyes never leaving the falling statue. Patrius stayed where he was, weeping and clutching his crotch. The rubble buried him.

The kid watched the wreckage as he jerked his hands up and then slashed them down. They stopped roughly belt height, fingers clutching invisible balls. He breathed heavily, which soon became calm and deep. The air shimmered as power poured off him. After a couple of seconds, he dropped his hands, the shimmering fading away. The rubble hadn’t moved and I breathed a sigh of relief: Patrius was dying if not dead already. Glancing around, the kid saw Klemral, his head lolling in my lap. He was at my side in a moment, kneeling by his friend. His ginger hair was long enough to whiplash floppily. Overall, he reminded me of a jax, a cute, deadly Sith jax.

“Why,” he muttered, forlornly staring at Klemral’s body, “you were only meant to distract him, draw him away so I could sneak in.” the other acolyte didn’t answer.

He knelt by me, those huge green eyes wavering as he stared glassily at his friend. His lower lip trembled and I did something really stupid: I hugged him. I buried the Sith’s face into my shoulder and held him there. I couldn’t help it, he just looked so sad. He stiffened and for a moment I was sure I’d get a lightsaber through the gut. Eventually, he curled into me, arms wrapping around my bare back. I must’ve suddenly developed the ability to sweat on a very localised part of my shoulder because it started to get wet. Yep, that was it: the Sith wasn’t crying, no-siree. Creepy sounding animals wailed in the tomb too.

We stayed there for a good minute or two, till that animal wandered away. Slowly, he let go of my back, fingers brushing my lekku. I ignored the phantom caress down my leg and let him go. He stepped back, eyes red from uh, allergies or something, and saw me. Both eyebrows rose as he cocked his head to the side, like an Akk dog presented with a puzzle.

“You’re naked,” he remarked and I did my best not to roll my eyes. Seriously, was that the first thing every Sith on Korriban noticed? Then he did something I wasn’t expecting. He took off his robe and wrapped it round my shoulders. Carefully, I untucked my lekku, laying them over the robe.

Under the robe, he wore a black vest with cartoon logo emblazoned on the front, and a pair of white Veda cloth pants. A pair of fitted boots strapped around his lower calves, the intricate patterns running along them looked hand-stitched.

“Now, you’re not, but I’ll want it back,” he uttered, taking a step back to let me stand. It didn’t have a drawstring, it wasn’t meant to be closed properly. Still, three out of four sides covered wasn’t bad. Uh, wow. A Sith saved me from Patrius and offered me clothes without prompting: can I keep him?

The rumble of debris moving snatched my ear and I turned to see the statue rubble shift. How was he was still alive? Roan moved: crimson blade drawn and ready.

Patrius clutched the nearest statue fragment as he hauled himself up to his feet, casting his gaze about blearily. That hateful stare washed over me and Roan without seeing us, fixing on the open doorway. He staggered a step forwards, lurching another and heaving a third. Then he collapsed, that smug face smacking the flagstones with a satisfying crunch.

The kid inched closer to him, ready for any trick he had. About a metre away, he pointed the blade straight at the pureblood, and then flicked a rock at him. It smacked into his leg, and nothing happened. Huh, the kid had prepped for everything except him actually being out cold. Dropping out of his defensive crouch, he raised the blade to cut his head off. Wait, he was getting away that easily?

“Hang on,” I surveyed my former tormentor, a vicious plan forming in my head, “I’ve got a better idea.”

and I always wondered why Quinn, who is hailed as a tactical genius that has studied the SW's every move, would stoop to just 2 stunnable droids and his squishy self. If the increasingly crazy Baras ordered it, then he doesn't have much choice in how it goes down, which might explain just how melancholy the opening scene gets.

Master O’a begins our shared meditation. My thoughts travel together with his like a thranta flying in the slipstream of another. Like a Rishii, rather, learning to fly with the guidance of an experienced traveler. Shadows crowd us. We leave them behind, finding the clear sky between the clouds.

Events pass by below us, islands in a vast ocean. The waves reveal then wash over them. Some reappear, others stay submerged, some return, changed. Ripples and eddies and always in motion. Master O’a chooses an island, one less ephemeral than others around it and glides down. I hear his voice speaking to me, asking me a question. Yet I do not hear his question so much as see.

A young woman, a human. She clutches a glowing cube to her chest. I realize she holds a holocron. My holocron. Running, panting, out of breath, she collapses against a tree in a dense forest. The forests of Sarkhai that Nadia shared with me with such joy. But this young woman is not Nadia and these forests hold only the promise of concealment for her. She cannot see their beauty. Strength and power in the Force flow from her, but also fear and worry. She peeks around the trunk of the glowing Florry tree and sighs with relief. She is not pursued. My holocron tumbles from her hands to the grass.

Her name is Tika. I know because I will know.

Now she paces, her anger glowing dark around her. She pleads with my image. I don’t know enough yet! I must fight! I need weapons. How can I take back the Republic without weapons? How can I help all these people if I do not fight for them? Words are empty! The enemy doesn’t listen! Teach me to fight!

Smoke burns from her form, like the reeds in the fire. I know what she wants, but it is not what she needs. She would burn bright until nothing remains. Your strength is the Force, Tika. You feel alone right now, but you are not. The Force is always with you, connecting you to all things. Find them, seek them. Help them, and in so doing, help yourself. All of you, together, stronger than any one alone. Your weapons will be the hands of many.

She glares at me. Short brown hair curls around her ears, bobbing with her quick, spiky movements. What a stupid holocron. I only had time to grab one. Why couldn’t I pick something useful?

I smile at her. The Force guided your choice.

She flashes anger and frustration and bites back a bitter laugh. Your cabinet was the only one I could pry open.

Just so.

She throws up her arms in exasperation. Stupid! Useless!

This is the knowledge I have. It is yours if you wish to learn.

Her legs buckle and she lands in a frumping heap, a seething interpretation of the traditional meditation posture. Fine. Guess I’m stuck with you. You better know something worthwhile or I’ll drop you down a well.

She has such fire. Such potential. Her futures fly before me. She tries so hard while the knot of hatred and anger in her unravels. She leads refugees. She seeks the broken soldiers. She holds the hand of a dying child. She gathers together bits and pieces of peoples, survivors, and makes them whole. Her hands become healing hands, knitting the tatters of the Force back together. Her apprentices and associates learn to fear her wit and words, but they also learn to trust her. She burns, but never loses her fire. They call her Tika, Fire of the Rim, then just Tika Rimfire.

She is old now, her hair white and skin wrinkled and spotted. She sits in the thrumming hold of a ship, her disciples nearby. Even now she does not slow. She activates my holocron, and I know I will not see her again.

How’d you know my name? The first time you spoke to me, you called me by name. Always wondered. She whispers this time. Not out of fear, but because she wants our conversation private and there is little privacy here.

It is not in my nature to lie. When I-who-was-Jurial made this holocron, I saw you. I knew your name because I remembered you from the day of my creation.

She snickers, more at herself. I spent years thinking you could read my mind somehow.

I smile back at her. No. I preserve knowledge. I am not now all who I was; but my programming is much like myself. That moment, perhaps, was more.

Did you see how I die?

I hesitate. No. But I know this is the last time we will speak.

How?

I do not know, Tika. Only that I do. That also, was part of my creation.

She sets me on a crate at her side. Still wish you’d been a saber instructor.

You did not need a saber instructor.

She leans back. Hell I didn’t.

You wanted a saber instructor. But you needed something else.

She straightened again. What was it like, living in the Republic’s golden age? When Jedi still knew how make things like holocrons? When there was a temple and a library and all of that? What was it like?

I wonder, for a moment, how far in the future she lives. Master O’a’s vision grants me only these images. I do not know if they are a certain future or only a probable one. But I will not lie to her.

When I lived, the Republic was on the brink of war with the Sith. In my lifetime, the Sith razed the Temple on Coruscant and the temple on Tython, the ancestral Jedi homeworld. I saw both whole and in ruins. And beyond, even as Jurial-who-is-me constructs this device, a great darkness looms. This future is one of many possible. At this moment, the one preserved in my memories. Many are dark and silent.

But you made a holocron anyway?

Yes.

Why?

I know my answer. I have waited since this day to tell her. Because so long as there is the Force there is hope. Hope that some day my knowledge will be needed. That a student awaits with whom my words resonate, long after I am gone. Who would in turn teach others. I believe the Force lives in those connections between beings. That those connections make the Force stronger, and the Force makes its users stronger. I believe we are more than the sum of our parts.

You saw that in the face of so much death?

Don’t you?

You never answer the question I ask.

I give you the knowledge you need.

She leans back again. She tires quickly now, I have noticed. Tell me about the Temple on Tython, she asks again. Her voice is quiet and soft.

I tell her about the halls filled with light, the libraries full of knowledge. The students learning and failing and trying again. Of padawans and masters and the council and arguments and agreements, until her eyelids fall.

The vision draws away. I hear Master O’a’s voice calling me as we rise to soar again among the clouds of future events. I cannot see her fate or that of her followers. They fade into the slipstream beneath our wings.

I glimpse more islands far below. Sinking, resurfacing, bobbing in the ocean of possibilities. Master O’a glides down to another and alights. Once again, I hear his question but the words are superficial. I see.

It is a ruin. Moss and lichen grow on the walls and the ceiling is open to the sky. Water drips down on mouldering datastations. Library banks sit unpowered and abandoned. Dust motes drift in the air.

A man rages before me. I do not recognize his species but I know the wrongness that flows from him in waves. He is Sith. He is deep in thrall to the Dark Side. I know his name because I will know, but now is not the time to tell him. His saber flashes in the air. How do you like it, Jedi? Your Temple in rubble like your soldiers left my home? Your people long dead and forgotten like my forefathers?

I knew the place before he spoke. It is hard seeing it like this, so soon after the attack I remember. Yet, all things change in time. I know not why the temple is in this condition. Whether built and rebuilt until the order moved on and now abandoned to the elements, or discarded in my near future. I know he shows me this because he believes it will anger me, hurt me, and this is something he wants.

Answer me! He brings his saber down with a slash and halts mere millimeters from the holocron that is all that remains of me. I hear its hum as though it hovers as close to my ear.

The library at Tython was a place of learning. I am sorry it no longer serves that purpose.

Sorry. No one is sorry. Maybe I will destroy you. Like I destroyed your cult of heretics and took you trophy.

The saber passes through part of my projected image and I feel nothing. There is deception here, threaded through veil and smoke, but I cannot grasp it. You did not bring me here only to destroy me.

He glares at me. His saber hovers at my edges. No, I didn’t. I brought you here, where you apprenticed, to make you teach me. I will steal your knowledge. Make it mine. I will become stronger than you ever were, and I will destroy the Jedi. I will make you show me, and then I will kill in your name and the Jedi will hate you forever.

It would be easier to refuse him. To shut myself down and not speak to him. Even at the risk of destruction. But the hardest student is the one who needs me most. I peer into the darkness. Behind all the shadows and the years of loathing my name is a void. A cavern with no friends, no supporting family, no peers. No hope, no love, no friendship, no kindness. He wields the Force like a weapon because he cannot trust anything, even the Force. He is not Sith because he chose to be, but because he knows no other way. I know if I share my knowledge with him, set his feet on the path I walk, he will find what he needs to fill the void in his heart. He will shine with light, even if he still calls himself Sith. Because it is actions that matter, not what we name our philosophy.

The saber inches closer. I almost feel its heat on my skin, though I am long dust.

I will teach you.

Ha. You fear me. He grins at me, sure of victory.

I will teach you.

He does not remove his saber yet, showing me he can destroy me if he chooses. It does not matter. I am a holocron. Jurial-who-was knows it for an empty threat. He thinks my teachings will grant him power and that power will soothe his pain. He is right.

His futures flow by. I watch him falter, watch him stumble, watch him try to learn what he has never experienced. I see him try to pervert my lessons, to misuse trust and loyalty and truth. To turn connections to weakness. I see this and cannot stop it.

He activates me in a darkened room, the blue light of my hologram casting weird shadows on opulent walls. I killed her today. The Jedi guarding the crystals. She never had the chance to call the others through the Force. I was too swift.

I sense something different in him. He does not crow his victory. He will not look at me. I see his hands are empty, the bag he took with him to steal the crystals lays flat. What did you feel?

His voice is flat and expressionless, but his emotions roil. I cut out my favorite figure from a priceless tapestry and burned it. I broke the hand off a hero’s statue and crushed it. I dug up the last tree on Sarkhai and threw it into the sea.

I say nothing.

At last he looks at me. I felt her die. I made her my friend and I felt her die in the Force.

You killed before.

I never had a friend before.

He is silent for a long time but he does not turn me off. When he speaks again it is halting and hoarse. Every death is like that, isn’t it? Even when I don’t care. The threads unravel and everything falls apart. This is what you tried to teach me. Trust and truth make me strong because I have friends to call on when I need them. His voice breaks on the word friend.

Yes.

My friends trust others, and that makes them strong.

Yes.

The Force is all of that. All those beings standing together. Helping each other. Becoming more. More together than apart.

Yes.

You knew if you taught me I would discover this.

Yes.

Because that’s where your strength comes from.

Yes.

Did she have to die?

It is my turn to be silent. Because the simple answer is no, she did not. Not if he accepted my teaching sooner. But he knows this already. The question he will not ask is whether his knowledge is worth her life. Only he can make it so, and he must choose to. At last I speak. It is not for me to determine.

He snorts. You don’t ever answer my questions. Not the important ones.

I give you the knowledge you need.

He sits quiet again. But beneath the quiet I sense the change. His old ways unraveling. He pulls the strings together in a better way. Where there was a void is now a light. Tiny. Feeble. But a light all the same. Vergromo, he says. My name is Vergromo.

I know. Unlike Tika, I had to wait for him to tell me before using it. Because with his name he gives me a strand of light. The first thread of a new tapestry. Trust. Thank you, Vergromo.

I lied, you know. When I first activated your holocron.

Did you?

It was Jedi who razed my homeworld in the old war. Jedi following the Rimfire’s banner. But I didn’t steal it from your cult. My old master said the Jedi called you heretic and disavowed your followers and exiled them. He called your holocron a trophy and kept you on a shelf in his study. He never let anyone touch it. I wasn’t the strongest student. So I stole it from him. I...I don’t know what I wanted.

You wanted to hurt the Jedi with their own teaching. To prove Sith were stronger, that you were stronger, that you could learn Jedi ways and still be Sith.

I suppose.

I wish I could touch him. But I am only a projection and my hand passes through his shoulder like a ghost. I was called heretic even in my lifetime, Vergromo.

This surprises him. You defied the Jedi and recorded your knowledge anyway?

Defied? In a way. My teaching did not agree with prevailing views in my time. Yet I constructed this holocron at the request of the head of the Council,

I don’t understand.

He does not. Not yet. He will, in time. Now, though, he steps out of darkness. On his own.

Master O'a guides me away before I see any more specifics. I catch a glimpse of Vergromo as he fades in the distance. An older man, wise and just, advisor to others of his kind. He could rule, but chooses not to. They could conquer, but deal peaceably with their neighbors instead. Then even this drifts into the distance. I cannot see if he still calls himself Sith.

We fly further now. The froth of potential futures evaporates. I have the sense not of moving back in time, but of returning to myself. I leave the Susheer state behind. Before our thoughts disentangle completely Master O’a has one final question. This I do hear as well as see.

“When your holocron is activated, how will it name itself?”

It is the one moment I have not seen in the prior visions. As he asks, I see the billion eyes of countless beings. Future students. They see my projected image as it first resolves. They await my words with anticipation. There are many titles I could give, many ways I could introduce myself. I speak my answer, to Master O’a and to all who come after.

“I am the holocron of Jurial, Seeker of Truth.”

With those words I am once again inside my own mind. I feel drained. I sought visions before, meditated on teachings and texts and drew guidance from the Force, but never have I experienced anything like this. My own visions pale in comparison to the vividness of what I see with Master O’a’s guidance. I wonder if he always sees with such clarity and detail. His is an amazing gift. It must be exhausting at times.

Master O’a sits across from me. The holocron levitates between us. Its components come back together into a solid cube and it settles on the floor. Master O’a leans forward and hands it to me.

“Then we’re done,” he says, his tone ebullient, “You’ve got yourself a holocron; now all you need to do is spend your life filling it.”

He rises and I do the same. The device sits heavy in my hand. I feel the weight of responsibility. All my future students in the palm of my hand. Master Yuon told me she knew I was her last padawan. I begin to understand what she felt. “Thank you, Master O’a. You’ve done me a great kindness. I will do my best to honor it.”

Master O’a dusted his hands, “Do your best to live out the year. My visions are very dark these days. I can’t see what the future holds, for any of us. But if I outlast you, I will protect what we built here today if I can.”

I hold the infant holocron, marveling at it. The library on Coruscant held thousands, that on Tython even more. That my thoughts and philosophy are destined for such august company give me pause. Then I remember Tika’s comment, that they are few in her time and no one remembers how to make them. Before I go, I must ask, “Master O’a, have you entrusted your own knowledge to a holocron?”

Master O’a pauses. My question interrupts him repackaging his things for the return trip. He sets the tools down, “Funny you should ask, Master Jurial. The Council has always been more interested in my other gift. I’ve made many recordings for them.” He examines his laser etching tool, used for shaping the precise crystals at the heart of both lightsabers and holocrons. “Yet recently I’ve found myself more drawn to these simple devices. A message in itself, perhaps. I’ll consider it.”

Good. “May the Force be with you, always, Master O’a.”

“And with you, Master Jurial.”

When Kutri O’a described the half-trained Jedi in the first vision, I immediately thought of the first character I made for a Star Wars RPG, way back in the old West End Games era. Tika (T’kaleni) was a fallen Jedi with an anger problem and a gift for prophecy. She missed the Revenge of the Sith slaughter at the Temple by days, having been drummed out of the Order for injuring another student during lightsaber training and spent the next several years inside a bottle, hiding from the Emperor’s bloodhounds and feeling sorry for herself. A chance encounter with fringe elements of the rebellion and a not-quite-rogue Jedi gave her life purpose, even if she was never the most reliable person in the group. That Tika never found a holocron or became a leader, but she was just as irascible and irreverent as she is here. She fit the brief description as though the dialogue writers had her in mind. It was fun to give an ancient, almost-forgotten character a bit part, and probably contributed to why I liked the Consular quest so much.

Mako watched Thorns as he shook the last crumbs out of the bag into his mouth. Now the hunter raised the bag’s opening to his eye to check if it was really empty. He seemed to have forgotten everything else around him. The intimidating scowl he usually wore when he took off his helmet in public was replaced by a blissful look on his face. Mako laughed.

"What’s so funny?" Thorns carefully wiped at the corners of his mouth. "Crumbs on my chin?"

Mako giggled. “No, no crumbs. None of those had the slightest chance to escape. You really do love crumble cake, don’t you?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. Sometimes I can almost smell the one my mom made. She put apples beneath the crumbs when she could afford them.”

"Let’s get you another piece." They were not far from the bakery.

Thorns shook his head. “No. Only one piece once in a while.”

"Why? It’s not like you need to watch your figure." She poked his side.

"No, but I want it to stay something special. Do you think that’s silly?"

She was close to hugging him. “No, that’s not silly at all.”