The Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread!

[JamagsAwesome]

@JamagsAwesome: There's something about the way you write that fascinates me. It looks simplistic on the surface, but is actually very solid. Nothing really gets in the way of what you're trying to describe, and I love all of it.

 

Yeah. My parents are both writers, and they taught me to write efficiently when I was doing essays for school. Cut out unnecessary words and descriptions. I guess the habit just stuck with me.

 

Thanks, though!

[alaurin]

Comments/Replies:

 

@alaurin: Somehow I get the indistinct feeling your Imperial undercover spy isn't going to get much farther in infiltrating the underworld than mine did. I like the mentioning of all the old acquaintances from Ord, it's nice to read about them and see what they've been up to. Looking forward to the next part

Glad you enjoyed that and there will be more old faces/names popping up as I delve into Kit and Zaryn's intro stories. As for the Imperial spy........we'll just have to wait and see.

 

@Lunafox: Glad you enjoyed that bit with Bella and Corso. I always love the warm fuzzies and probably write them waaaaay too much! Things are definitely going to get interesting......at least I hope so.

 

@JamagsAwesome: RE It's A Long Way Down- That's a hell of an entrance to make!! Loved that last exchange.....simple, yet very telling.

 

RE: 100- That's quite a milestone and nicely done bagging the smug Sith! Gault is probably behind the scenes plotting ways to spend the payout.

 

@Alaurin: Hmm... I'm interested to find out about this Imperial Spy. Also, I like warm fuzzies.

Warm fuzzies are my favorite thing to write so I'm glad you like them! I write the sad stuff sometimes, but I always feel guilty after and I'm not that great at the action stuff.

 

 

Now for the next part........

 

Title: Back to Where It All Began

Prompt: Good/Bad Memories

Characters: Belladonya Lauren- Smuggler, Corso Riggs, Kitannya Lauren-my take on an SIS agent

Setting: Bella’s freighter Serendipity, a few days after Welcome Home

Spoilers: Spoilers for Smuggler story through Act 1, Trooper Ord Mantell, and references a couple of Ord Mantell planetary missions and a Pub side Taris planetary mission.

 

 

“Ugh, you still watch that stupid show?!” Kit snorted from the doorway as she saw what was on the HoloVid.

 

“You bet smarta**,” Bella shot back before glancing over at her little sister, frowning when she saw Kit biting her lip, “You getting nervous?”

 

“Not really,” Kit shrugged as she flopped into a chair in Serendipity’s rec room, “I was when I first got the assignment and started working with you to build my cover identity, but I feel pretty comfortable with it now.”

 

“Then why do you look a little antsy?”

 

“Just want to know what Ord Mantell is like and figured you’d know……..but you’ve never talked about it much and don’t seem all that eager to be going back, so I wasn’t sure how you’d take me asking.”

 

“Sorry little sis,” Bella sighed as she paused her favorite soap opera, “I forget sometimes that you’re as uptight as Mallay is about knowing all the details.”

 

“Eh……part of the job,” Kit muttered as she tucked an errant lock of chin length black hair behind her ear. “Why so reluctant?”

 

“Just a lot of bad memories there……for both of us,” Bella replied, nodding at her husband who was in the galley.

 

They’d left Dantooine late the night before, figuring they could sleep for most of the twelve hour flight to Ord Mantell. Once Bella had programmed the route into the nava computer and got them into the hyperlane, she and Corso went to bed while Kit read over her case file again, adding in some notes about a possible lead/tie with Ord Mantell when she finished. Then she began studying up on the planet, but knew that the best source of information would come from people who’d been there and decided to have a little chat with her oldest sister.

 

“It couldn’t have all been bad,” Kit smirked, “You did met Corso there and Mallay met Aric.”

 

“Definitely the one good thing to come from that planet,” Bella smiled at her husband, then began to giggle as some memories of her brief time on Ord began to surface.

 

“What’s so funny?” Kit’s blue eyes narrowed at her sister as Bella started laughing harder.

 

“Oh stars, I was just remembering those first couple days on Ord with Mallay,” Bella grinned, her green eyes sparkling with amusement, “and boy did she ever hate Aric back then. I lost count of how many times she stuck her foot in her mouth venting about what a jerk he was.” At Kit’s look of puzzlement, Bella elaborated, “She’d forgotten a few times that she was being monitored through her armor cam outside Fort Garnik and you know how her temper is.”

 

“I remember Mallay being embarrassed about us teasing her that she had a boyfriend,” Kit recalled, “But I didn’t realize she hated him.”

 

“I don’t think she did anymore at that point,” Bella reflected, “But those first few days she outright despised him.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Well Mallay had just been promoted to Spec Forces and was feeling a little big for her britches when she arrived on Ord……not that she’d admit to it mind you,” Bella explained, “Aric had been assigned to assist Havoc while they were on Ord and he outranked Mallay at the time. So she gets there and apparently her new CO started listing Mallay’s accomplishments when he introduced her to her new squad mates and Aric. Well I guess Aric had trouble in the past with new officers thinking they were the **** after achieving the rank so decided to knock her down a peg or two. You know how Mallay’s temper is…..”

 

“Oh boy,” Kit rolled her eyes, just imagining how their sister would react to that.

 

“It was definitely amusing,” Bella grinned, “and we still tease her occasionally about the Wookiee comment, but they eventually worked through their differences after Aric was demoted and stuck in Havoc with Mallay as his CO……and I’m pretty sure they were starting to have feelings for each other on Taris. At least Aric was, Mallay I’m not as sure of since she never really admitted to anything until we were on Tatooine together.”

 

“How’d you know?” Corso asked, having suspected his brother in law had been at least attracted to Mallay before then, but the Cathar hadn’t spoken about it until Nar Shaddaa.

 

“Remember when you two purposely got infected with the Rakghoul virus?”

 

Corso thought back for a second, “Yeah…….well the details right after are kinda fuzzy, but boy the two of you sure were grouchy the next morning!”

 

“That’s because Aric was jealous that Mallay was laughing and chattering away with you while you were shirtless.”

 

“Why were you mad?” Kit asked, the smug look on her pretty face saying she already knew the answer.

 

“Eh……I might’ve been a little jealous myself,” she admitted, a rare blush coloring her cheeks.

 

“So it wasn’t exactly love at first sight with Mallay and Aric, but what about you two?” Kit prodded.

 

“Bella was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen,” Corso smiled at his wife, looking sheepish as a blush began to creep up his neck with the memory of the day she’d landed in Drelliad, “but it was more than that……she had a fire inside her that I couldn’t help but admire. Everyday you’d see victims all around the Fort, but not your sister. Despite all the setbacks, she never gave up……bound and determined to get her ship back and I wanted to help make that happen. After Viidu was gone, I had nothing keeping me on Ord and I felt I owed her.”

 

“Corso blamed himself for my ship getting stolen,” Bella explained as he sat beside her, “Despite the fact he had no way of knowing Skavak was a dirty double crossing bastard, and that Skavak ambushed him from behind, knocking him out before taking off in my ship.”

 

“I never did like that guy,” Corso shook his head, “I just wish could’ve stopped him, but that was only part of why I left with Bella……I sorta had a crush on her by then.” He averted his eyes then, rubbing the back of his neck as he felt it heat up further. He’d never admitted that to his wife and was a little shocked he’d blurted it out like that.

 

Easily seeing her husband’s embarrassment, Bella leaned over to kiss his cheek before making her own confession, “I already knew that darlin’ and despite my fears, I was already thinking you were a guy I could fall for.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really,” Bella repeated, “I mean you were only the nicest man I’d ever met. Plus you were good looking, gave me a place to stay……gave up your bed and slept on the couch so I’d be more comfortable, left breakfast on the table…..with caffa, gave me a blaster that meant a lot to you because you saw that mine was in bad shape……seriously, do I need to say anymore?!”

 

“See…..Ord wasn’t all that bad then,” Kit smiled at the couple still so much in love.

 

“Corso and Aric were good,” Bella agreed, “But that planet was a warzone when we were there. Seperatist movements trying to get control of villages, killing anyone that resisted. The military was outnumbered…….and Aric could tell you better than I about the corruption in the ranks on Ord.”

 

“I heard stories in the Academy,” Kit nodded, “but supposedly it isn’t as bad there now.”

 

“That’s possible,” Bella conceded, “and the military had gained a lot of ground after assaulting the Separatist’s main stronghold the day we broke in. In fact, Mallay helped sabotage their antiaircraft guns and Corso and I took out some of the leadership.”

 

“I’ve thought about going back to Ord many times,” Corso sighed, feeling a little guilty it had taken him so many years to do so, “But part of me just wanted to leave and never look back. It was home though, and I’ll be glad to see it again even if I’ve got some bad memories there.”

 

“You gonna visit the village where you grew up?”

 

“Planned on it,” Corso answered thickly as his wife squeezed his hand, “The old farm too if it’s still there.”

 

“Mistress Bella,” C2’s voice called out over the intercom just as they felt the ship slow, “We’re coming out of hyperspace over Ord Mantell now……are you landing planetside?”

 

Bella didn’t miss the nervous hitch in the protocol droid’s voice with that last part and understood the sentiment. The last time she’d landed on Ord, he wound up having a restraining bolt until she stole her freighter back three weeks later. Bella quickly reassured C2 that they’d be docking at the orbital station and taking a shuttle down to the planet. Despite things being somewhat better on Ord and the fact Skavak was dead, the memories of being stranded there made her reluctant to take Serendipity back to the surface.

 

Corso stood with his wife then followed her into the cockpit. He stopped behind her, wrapping his arms around the beautiful red head’s waist as they looked out the window at the planet he’d been born and raised on.

 

“You really are the best thing to come from Ord,” Bella turned, smiling up at the man she loved, “and I thank the stars every day that I was lucky enough to find you.” Then she leaned up to kiss him, lingering for a moment before she sat down at the controls and took them back to where it all began.

 

[Lunafox]

@alaurin Another great read! Always like the girl talk between the sisters. I'm curious to see what will happen when Corso goes to visit his old farm, and what's become of the place after they've been away so long. ^^

 

@JamagsAwesome Cutting the unnecessary is great advice. I remember something similar from Stephen King in his book 'On Writing.' He called it 'killing his darlings.' It meant a couple of things...killing off unnecessary characters that you like a bit too much, and also killing off phrases that you like, or are proud of because it seems like 'writing.' He always suggests streamling writing, and I agree with you, and your parents, good advice

[JamagsAwesome]

Comments:

 

@alaurin: Maybe it’s just me, but those warm fuzzies have me worried that you’re building up to something really bad happening. Maybe I’m just cynical.

 

@Lunafox: Hmm… I don’t have that book. I should get it.

 

 

 

Now moving on to my consular, along with another knight. Xalinia is not the character from the Knight class story, though.

 

Where I Come From

Prompt: Culture Shock

Characters: Ductapin Seratos (Duct-Tape) the Consular, Xalinia the Knight

Chronology: Before the Sacking, during the Great Galactic War

Word Count: 365

 

 

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.

 

Her boots made an odd sound on the tile of the enclave’s floor. People swirled around her. They glowed. That’s what she called it, at least. The proper term was “Force Sensitive.” Before she came here, she was the only one she knew who glowed.

 

Well, there were the Sith, but they were different. They weren’t just non-glowing, they were almost the opposite of glowing. Sometimes, when she used her powers to hurt people, she did the same thing. That was before the Jedi came, and took her away.

 

She liked it better here. No fighting, no killing. She noticed a boy in the corner. A human.

 

Ductapin looked around. The ceiling was only about ten feet high, and the room was plain, not decorated. He admired the simplicity of it. A girl in a blindfold walked up to him. Ductapin had been a bit sheltered, but he was well educated, and could tell she was Miralukan.

 

“Hello!” he said.

 

“Hello. What are you doing?”

 

She spoke slowly. Basic wasn’t her first language.

 

“I’m just looking at the room.”

 

“There is something interesting about it?”

 

“No artwork. No statues. Where I come from, most rooms have something like that.”

 

“There is not much difference about it for me, except you can’t hear blaster fire. There’s also not much artwork where I come from. The Imperials tore it all down because it was ‘unaurothized.’”

 

Ductapin nodded. The war had never touched his planet, a little backwater owned by his rich father, but even he knew what it was like to loose family to the Sith. Seratos, the planet being named after the “royal” family, is neutral, and his father had two force sensitive children. He sent the older brother to the Sith and the younger, Ductapin, to the Jedi. Garalin, the older one, was killed by a Tuk’ata on his first day on Korriban. Seratos promptly allied with the Republic.

 

“You mean ‘unauthorized.’ I’m… sorry if I upset you.”

 

“No. I understand. I know we both are happy to be here.”

 

Ductapin could sense that much.

 

“Come on. I’ll show you around the enclave. It’s not too big, but it’s nice.”

 

Xalinia shrugged. It seemed pretty big to her.

 

 

 

Author’s Notes:

 

Ductapin Seratos (Duct-Tape) is my Light Human Male Shadow. Xalinia is my Dark Miralukan Female Guardian.

 

I had fun writing the bits from Xal’s perspective. It was interesting trying to think about how a Miralukan would think about the world, since humans constantly rely on sight, and Miralukans just don’t have that, at least not in the same way.

 

 

[alaurin]

Comment/Replies:

 

@Lunafox: The girl talk is always fun to write so I'm glad you like it! As for Corso visiting his old home, that will be in a later part......this story kinda grew a bit from the original.

 

@JamagsAwesome: I like the way you showed their different impressions and backgrounds in such a short piece, nicely done. Kudos for taking on a Mirakula's perspective as well, not an easy task since their sight is so different.

 

@alaurin: Maybe it’s just me, but those warm fuzzies have me worried that you’re building up to something really bad happening. Maybe I’m just cynical.

Wouldn't be the first time I've done that.....not that I'm admitting that's what's going to happen here.

 

 

And I have the next part.....

 

Title: A Good Place to Start

Prompt: Allies, Mystery

Characters: Belladonya Lauren- Smuggler, Corso Riggs, Kitannya Lauren-my take on an SIS agent

Setting: Ord Mantell, immediately following Back to Where It All Began

Spoilers: Spoilers for Smuggler story through Act 3, companion spoilers for Corso Riggs

 

 

After docking at the orbital station, Bella, Corso, and Kit took the first available shuttle down to Ord, the former feeling sketchy about landing the Serendipity planetside after what happened to her the last time all those years ago. Both Bella and Corso noticed the spaceport seemed better organized and that the travelers didn’t seem to be in any rush to get off the planet. Bella took that as a sign that things had in fact improved on Ord Mantell since her and Corso left nine years ago. The trio walked through Fort Garnik, Bella pointing out places to her sister as they went along and marveling at how much quieter it was. Things are pretty much the same, only cleaner and people were actually going about their regular day instead of begging for aid or looking ready for combat. The Republic HQ was still there and Bella smiled as they walked past it, remembering her last time in that building. A little further down the street was Rendia Freight, looking almost exactly the same as it did the day Viidu was killed. After a moment, Corso entered his old workplace, followed by Bella and Kit, to find a familiar yellow Twi’lek waiting for them just inside.

 

“Corso! Captain Lauren!” he called out, a grin spreading across his face, “You made it!”

 

“Good to see you Jett,” Corso smiled at the young slicer they’d rescued on Tatooine.

 

“And it’s Captain Riggs now,” Bella informed him, “Corso and I have been married for seven years, but you can call me Bella and this is my sister Kit.”

 

“The agent Corso told me about, right?”

 

“That’s me,” Kit confirmed, “But I’m not exactly advertising that…….so just call me either Kit or Captain Rydel, either is fine.”

 

“Gotcha,” Jett winked, “I’ll keep it on the down low. So Jeremy’s expecting you guys……so let’s head upstairs.”

 

“You’re looking better than the last time I saw you,” Bella commented as they began making their way through the two story warehouse towards the staircase.

 

“I still get nightmares about those freaks sometimes,” Jett shivered.

 

“I’ll bet,” Corso shook his head, “Not something you see every day.”

 

“So how’d you end up here?” Bella asked when they reached the stairs, “When we left Tatooine, you’d gotten a job in Anchorhead.”

 

“I did and stayed there for a year, but I got sick of the heat and all the sand,” Jett replied as they started going up towards the offices, “Figured I’d try my luck back in the core worlds so I started looking for work in warehouses and shipping companies since that’s what I was used to and they always need a few techs. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Rendia Freight since I thought I was the only one who escaped that day Syreena whacked Viidu and shot up the place, but sure enough when I checked the details, it was the same place. I recognized the names and figured I’d come back to Ord……been here ever since.”

 

Jett stopped outside Viidu’s old office and Corso grasped his wife’s hand as entered, both feeling a pang of sadness as they remembered the excitable portly man who’d been shot down by his backstabbing girl. A young man stood when they entered, his muscular physique what you’d expect from a man used to the physical demands of moving cargo in a warehouse. His wavy black hair was kept short and neat and his brown eyes reflected the warmth of his smile as he greeted them.

 

“Corso Riggs, it’s been a long time.”

 

“That it has Jeremy,” Corso replied, holding out a hand as the younger man strode towards them, “You’ve grown! I don’t know if you remember my wife…..”

 

“I didn’t know she was your wife, but I remember her,” Jeremy looked sheepish as he shook Corso’s hand, “Not many women around this type of place and she sorta stood out even more than Syreena did…….no offense.”

 

“None taken,” Bella grinned as she held out her hand, a giggle escaping her when she saw Corso bristle slightly, “You can call me Bella……and don’t mind Corso, he forgets sometimes that I’m completely in love with him and our children and worries that I’ll get swept away by someone else.”

 

“Sorry hon, just still can’t believe my luck that the most beautiful woman in the galaxy wanted to marry a simple guy like me,” Corso replied, rubbing the back of his neck as he met those twinkling green eyes. Then he turned to the younger man, “Glad to see you guys doing so good here. After seeing what Syreena did and hearing Jett’s story back on Tatooine, I didn’t think anyone else survived.”

 

“It was just luck that we did. Our speeder broke down on the way home from school so we had to push it the rest of the way then walk to work. By the time we got here, the place was trashed and three of the guys were dead. When we went upstairs, we found Syreena and Viidu’s bodies, so Justin sliced into the security cameras and we saw everything that went down,” Jeremy shook his head in disgust, then gestured for everyone to sit at the large table still in the middle of the room, “I figured it was best if we just got out of there and let the military police handle things, but Justin suggested I check the schedule first because we really needed the money. There weren’t any deliveries for a couple of days, so we went to Drelliad to make sure the hangar was still in one piece then went home. After taking that delivery, I risked going back to the warehouse to find it locked up and the bodies gone. Viidu’s will made you the owner Corso, but no one had a problem with Justin and I taking care of things and after a year, the business was titled over to us. It took some time to build things back up, especially with us still in school, but we managed.” Then the younger man turned to Corso, “I’ll admit I was worried you’d be upset when you found out.”

 

“Not at all,” Corso assured him as he took a seat next to Bella, “Viidu had mentioned making me his successor, but I never was interested in it back then and even less so now. I’m happier outside working our ranch than I ever could be sitting at a desk and trying to make deals. I just feel bad we never came back here to check up on you boys…..I meant to after we dealt with Skavak and got Bella’s ship back, but Rogun was still after Bella and I didn’t want to bring that trouble back here. Then after finding Jettison, we thought everyone had been killed.”

 

“We figured it might be something like that and there’s nothing to feel bad about,” Jeremy replied, “I’m just glad you guys took out Syreena before you left and that scumbag Skavak eventually got what was coming to him.”

 

“I feel bad we never returned either,” Bella sighed, knowing they really should’ve returned to Ord after the whole mess with Darmas, Rogun, and the Voidwolf was over, “Looks like you’ve been pretty successful though.”

 

“It has been these past few years now that things with the Seps have died down,” Jeremy nodded, “My brother and I have even talked about venturing out to other areas, seeing about getting more clients, but we prefer to avoid certain markets.”

 

“No slaves and no spice,” another voice called out, the soft drawling accent reminding Bella of when she first met her husband.

 

“About time you got here Justin,” Jeremy shook his head as Bella, Corso, and Kit turned to see a taller, slightly lankier version of Jeremy standing in the doorway. The top half of his coveralls were off, hanging from the waist and the grimy white t-shirt underneath easily showed that while not quite as broad as his older brother, Justin was just as familiar with hard physical labor. The bronze skin was the same, but the damp locks of hair sticking to his neck were brown and easily reached the middle of his back, and the sharp eyes currently studying the newcomers were blue instead of brown.

 

“Sorry Jer,” the young man shrugged as he finally entered the room, closing the door behind him, “I had to send Zak home this morning……idiot came to work with the flu and by lunchtime Brent was puking his guts out too. So it was just me ‘n’ Russ unloading that last shipment.”

 

“I could’ve sent someone down,” Jeremy frowned as his brother limped over to an empty chair, “You shouldn’t be doing that much heavy lifting yet. Plus you’re supposed to be keeping behind the scenes right now.”

 

“Probably not,” Justin winced, rubbing his right leg as he sat next to his brother, “But I wasn’t going to make Russ do it alone…..and I let him do all the talking. I kept my hair loose under one of Zak’s bandana caps and put on his set of coveralls so I doubt that spacer even gave me a second look. At any rate, it’s done and we have company,” then he turned to the familiar man he once worked with for Viidu, “Corso Riggs, man it’s been a while! How’ve you been?”

 

“Tell me about it,” Corso grinned, “You were just a scrawny teenager when I left and no taller than Bella.”

 

“Yeah,” Jeremy chuckled, “Then a few months later, he hit a growth spurt and suddenly found myself looking up at him. He was a bit gangly at first, but thankfully he filled out some.”

 

“I can lift just as much as you so don’t even give me that Jer,” Justin snorted, still massaging his leg, “But I don’t think Corso and these ladies came all this way to hear about that.”

 

“Were you injured recently Justin?” Bella asked, her brow furrowed with concern as she watched the younger brother trying to make himself comfortable.

 

“Jett mentioned something about an accident,” Corso prodded.

 

“He was,” Jeremy answered, “and it was no accident. That’s one reason we wanted you to come here in person. Jett came to us right away when he got Corso’s message, but we didn’t want to talk about it over the Holo……in this business, there’s always the risk of being overheard by the wrong people.”

 

“Between me and Jett, our communications systems are pretty secure,” Justin sighed, “But Jer didn’t want to chance it…….hope you don’t mind.”

 

“He was right not to,” Kit finally spoke up, “As someone who’s been trained in the art of secrets and lies, how to discover and expose them……I can definitely say it’s always better to handle sensitive information in person.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Corso muttered, “I got distracted catching up that I didn’t introduce everyone. As I already told Jeremy, Bella’s my wife now and Kit is her youngest sister.”

 

“Jett mentioned that……well not that you were married, but that the Captain’s sister is SIS and investigating the possibility that Imps are trying to infiltrate the Underworld again.”

 

“I still can’t believe Darmas was working for the Empire,” Jeremy scowled, “I met him once…..thought he was the coolest guy. I’m glad you rid the galaxy of that bastard.”

 

“Oh so am I,” Bella frowned, still feeling a twinge of anger even after all these years, “In fact I rather enjoyed emptying my blasters into him, but now it seems the Empire is trying to get someone back in his place and my little sister has been assigned to find out who and how.”

 

“It just so happens that we have a personal stake in that,” Jeremy informed then, “and we’d love to help. In fact, I think we have a good place for you to start your search.”

 

“I’d appreciate any leads you have,” Kit nodded, pulling out her laptop to take notes.

 

“Well we’re thinking about more than just information,” Jeremy replied, smiling at the pretty raven haired agent who seemed so eager, “But we can hash over those details later.”

 

“For now, let’s start at the beginning,” Justin continued, “About two months ago, one of our regular clients said he’d heard some things.”

 

“Morgan LeChance,” Jeremy elaborated, “and he was more than just a client, he was our friend too. He was one of the few that stuck with us after finding out Viidu had been killed.”

 

“Many didn’t think we could handle the business since we were only teenagers,” Justin frowned, “But not him…..did everything he could to support us and even got us more clients when things looked grim.”

 

“He was a good guy,” Jeremy sighed sadly.

 

“Was?” Bella gently whispered the question that her husband and sister were both thinking, “What happened to him?”

 

“That’s what we’d like to find out,” Justin answered, “Morgan was the typical spacer type, loved booze, cigars, gambling, and women……and not necessarily in that order. The last time he was here, it was pretty late when his cargo was unloaded so he decided to stay the night with us. We ended up staying up half the night playing Sabacc with a few of the other guys……and he’d broken out some Corellian whiskey to go with the ale we were drinking.”

 

“Morg starts talking about a game he’d been in on Nar Shaddaa,” Jeremy went on, “Said some Rodian was talking about a cute girl who’d been asking around for someone to help her get into the biz. She claimed she’d been a slave on Hutta, but that some spacer fell for her and helped her escape. Rumor had it the spacer was teaching her the ropes when a bounty hunter caught up to him. Long story short, the spacer was killed, but she managed to get away with a few creds and his ship.”

 

“Of course Morg was interested from the moment he heard cute girl,” Justin snorted, “and told the Rodian he’d be willing to help her out.”

 

“We just figured Morg was either too drunk to realize the Rodian was trying to scam him, or that he was pulling our leg,” Jeremy shrugged, “and by the time he finished telling the story, we were all pretty drunk ourselves and a couple of the guys had passed out.”

 

“The next day Morg heads out and no one mentioned his story from the night before,” Justin gritted as he shifted position in his seat, his leg aching badly from overdoing it, “In fact, most of the guys probably didn’t even remember it and I didn’t think much of it until three weeks ago.”

 

“Normally he comes pretty regularly, has a contract with a weapons and armament merchant and delivers to us on his route once a month,” Jeremy went on, wishing his stubborn brother would take it easy for a few days.

 

“And the Republic Military here in Fort Garnik benefits greatly from those non regulation items and appreciates that we handle the goods for them,” Justin cut in, seeing the nervous look Corso directed at his sister in law, “Now sometimes Morg pops in to visit on his downtime …..like Jer said, he was a friend and the guys here all got on well with him, but he never failed to make a delivery until that next month.”

 

“After a couple of days with no word, I was getting worried,” Jeremy admitted, “Despite his shortcomings, Morg took his business seriously and if he was going to be delayed, he called. I tried his frequency and his ship’s several times with no luck……and it wasn’t that he didn’t answer. The calls weren’t even going through…….like the frequency didn’t exist anymore.”

 

“I started scanning the HoloNet for news of any accidents, but didn’t find anything,” Justin sat back, pulling the cap off his head so his long fingers could work the tangles out of his thick hair, “No crashes, no one reporting ship debris in space.”

 

“Morg just vanished without a trace,” Jeremy swallowed, “Then a week later, a freighter shows up from Nar Shaddaa with his cargo……and Justin swears it was his ship.”

 

“Dammit, I’m telling you it was,” Justin defended himself for what felt like the hundredth time, “A freighter landed at the hanger in Drelliad, unscheduled with the Captain claiming to have our cargo. It was registered to Ky’lan Varr, but it was a dead ringer for Morg’s ship.”

 

“We have no proof though,” Jeremy countered, “It’s a fairly common cargo freighter and the numbers were different.”

 

“Those things can be changed,” both Justin and Kit echoed, the former relieved that someone else seemed to believe the possibility and suddenly he found himself looking into a set of blue eyes similar to his own. Then she gave him an encouraging smile and for a moment, Justin forgot what he’d been talking about as a warm sensation settled in his gut.

 

“It’s a long shot, but possible,” Bella mused, “Are you sure Justin?”

 

Justin didn’t hear the question until his brother started to snicker and he felt his neck heat up when he realized he’d been staring at Kit. Embarrassed that he’d gotten distracted again by a woman used to using her looks as a tool, he crossed his toned arms over his chest and went on, “I was on board the ship……and it was definitely Morg’s.”

 

“What did this Ky’lan Varr have to say?” Kit asked.

 

“Nothing at all,” Jeremy answered grimly, “Ky’lan Varr was dead……killed by a bounty hunter on Nar Shaddaa.”

 

Bella raised a brow, “Who was piloting the freighter?”

 

“Adrianna Zalen,” Justin muttered grumpily, annoyed that his eyes kept drifting back towards the agent, “A pretty blonde who was apparently new to the business. When I asked her about the cargo, she said she’d heard about this warehouse on Nar Shaddaa that was known to deal in stolen goods. She had a sob story about how she’d been desperate for a job and went to see what they had to be delivered. She claimed they offered her this shipment of weapons and ammo that had a buyer waiting on Ord so she agreed to deliver it for half the cut.”

 

“What makes you doubt her story?” Bella frowned, knowing full well that places like that did exist.

 

“And why are you so certain that was Morgan’s ship?” Kit added, believing him but needing to know his reasoning.

 

“Because I’ve been on Morg’s ship so many times over the years and knew it well,” Justin snapped, “Sure the posters of half-naked women were gone and it was a helluva lot cleaner than I’d ever seen it, but it was his. The familiar dings were there in the hold, that mark on the wall Morg put there when he was helping us unload the crates one time…….hell his dartboard was still hanging up…….and before you even ask, I know it was Morg’s because it was the one that used to hang here in this office!”

 

“He won it off us in a game of Sabacc,” Jeremy told their guests.

 

“Here’s the kicker,” Justin went on, “When I asked her why she was so desperate for job that she’d risk delivering stolen cargo……she said Ky’len rescued her from slavery on Hutta, but had been killed by a bounty hunter not long after, leaving her all alone in the galaxy.”

 

“You didn’t call her out on it, did you?” Bella’s eyes narrowed at him, wondering if that’s how he’d been injured.

 

“I’m not stupid,” Justin grumbled, “I figured I’d look into it after she left and put the word out. We have four trailers for heavy cargo and they were all loaded. Russ, Zak, and Brent had left with the first three while I went back on board to get the docket signed and transfer the credits. I’d barely stepped into the ship when I heard the lonely Miss Zalen on the Holo with some guy…….and here’s where it gets interesting, they both had Imperial accents.”

 

Bella and Kit’s eyes popped open, the former letting out a gasp as the latter stopped typing, “What did you do?!”

 

“I hadn’t gone in far enough to see or be seen, so I turned around and got off the ship before I was spotted,” Justin answered, “I’m no coward, but I wasn’t armed and I certainly wasn’t about to get into a physical fight with a woman…..no matter who or what she was. Besides, I can hold my own in a fist fight, but size doesn’t mean anything if you’re trained right and I’m guessing anyone who can hide her accent that well has all sorts of ways of taking down a regular guy like me.”

 

“It’s part of routine training in the SIS,” Kit admitted, certain that despite their size difference, she could probably take him down.

 

“Unfortunately that proved to be all too true in this case,” Jeremy nodded at his brother.

 

“I was pretty shook up, but I didn’t want to let on that I heard her,” Justin swallowed hard as flashbacks began to pop up in his mind, “So I just went over and waited by the computer terminal. I decided to try and get a message out before she came out, but all of the sudden something hit the back of my head and it went dark before I even hit the ground. I swear I never saw or heard anyone come up behind me.”

 

“She was probably using a stealth generator,” Kit assumed, a device she herself used often, “Makes it easy to get the drop on someone.”

 

“Oh she definitely got the drop on me,” Justin grumbled, trying to block out the vivid memories threatening to overwhelm him as they did in his sleep, “and the next thing I knew I was hearing a ship taking off. I must’ve only been out a few moments, but it was long enough for her to plant a bomb on that trailer full of grenades and get back to her ship. I heard that telltale ticking and somehow I managed to get up and discover her little present. My head was pounding and my body felt like lead, but I was able to climb on the speeder and I pulled the trailer out past the launch pad and through the gate towards the open field. I ditched it and ran as best I could back to the hangar. Unfortunately I wasn’t exactly steady on my feet and collapsed when it blew……” He bowed his head, closing his eyes as his body remembered sharp metal tearing through clothing and into skin, and a sickening pain as his leg was being crushed by a falling beam.

 

“It shook the whole village, but the launch pad and field took the brunt,” Jeremy finished, seeing how pale his brother was, “Justin had fallen in just inside the loading bay door, but it was open and he took a lot of shrapnel in his side…….and the blast collapsed the wall and a beam came loose with it, landing on his leg.”

 

“Damn,” Corso cursed, marveling that the young man seated across from him survived, “How’d you make it out in one piece?”

 

“Luckily there’s a lot of soldiers patrolling Drelliad still,” Jeremy answered for Justin, seeing the slight shake of the head his brother gave, “We still have occasional trouble with a few diehard Separatist groups and Drelliad is a prime target since all goods come in through the village. One of the patrols heard the explosion, went in to investigate and pulled Justin out before the fire spread to him. They commed for a fire team and got Justin back to base. Their medics tended to him while I went to see the hangar. The troops there had found remnants of a bomb on the Launchpad, but thought it was probably Seps. Something didn’t sit right with me though and when I was leaving the hangar, I noticed the security camera had been disconnected……not something Seps normally did. By the time I got back to the Fort, Justin was in a kolto tank where he spent the next week. He’d just gotten out when you called Jett and after hearing Justin’s account of what happened and that the SIS was investigating Imperials infiltrating the Underworld, I was afraid for the first time since Pa died.”

 

“Do you think she’ll be back?”

 

“No……we decided to keep Justin’s version of events to ourselves and stuck with the soldiers’ theory about Seps being behind the explosion. There’s still some corrupt officers in the ranks and I didn’t want to raise any flags not knowing who I could really trust. When the official report came out, it said that there was one fatality instead of one injury……a mistake that we never bothered to correct since names were left out.”

 

“Making her think the only witness is dead,” Kit caught on, “Good thinking. She’ll figure she’s in the clear and keep going with her mission.”

 

“It was Justin’s idea,” Jeremy nodded, “The only ones who know everything are me, Justin, and Russ…..and now you three. We told the rest of the guys here that Justin overheard something he wasn’t supposed to and he was a target now as a result. We’re all pretty close knit here and everyone liked Morg so they all agreed to stick to the story that Justin died in the hangar…….and he’s supposed to be keeping a low profile and not making himself visible to any offworlders.”

 

“It couldn’t be helped Jer,” Justin sighed, still a little shaken up but feeling better now that he’d finished talking about it, “and that freelancer barely gave me a glance……like I said, Russ did the talking and handled the docket. I was just another worker for all that guy knew.”

 

“After Corso said you guys were looking for help, we figured it was the best way to catch her,” Jeremy admitted, “And we want to help, not only for what happened to Justin, but for Morgan. We want to know what happened to him and if it was her, see that she’s pays for it.”

 

“Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming?” Bella raised a brow at the brothers.

 

“There is one condition,” Justin replied, looking the agent dead in the eye, “I’m going along with you.”

 

 

Author’s Note:

 

Again, I hope no one minds the liberties I’ve taken with how things played out on Ord Mantell after Viidu’s untimely demise. I really liked that guy!

 

Edited June 8, 2015 by alaurin

[JamagsAwesome]

Comments

 

@alaurin: Things are heating up, in more ways than one, it would seem. I’m excited to see more.

 

 

 

And now, I think I’m overdue for another funny story.

 

Title: Told You So

Prompt: Disguises

Characters: Ductapin Seratos (Duct-Tape) the Consular, Jaks Kenn (Jakskenn) the Smuggler

Chronology: After Where I Come From, after class stories

Word Count: 239

 

 

Lightning flashed across the sky of Felucia, as a torrent of rain battered the plating of the small Imperial shuttle. It touched down on the landing pad of a large compound. A large Sith exited the shuttle and strode toward the door. The two guards stood aside, and he entered. An Imperial officer ran up to him.

 

“My Lord! We were not expecting your arrival.”

 

“Do you mean to tell me that I cannot go where and when I wish?”

 

“No, my Lord, but…”

 

The Sith shot him a glare that could cow a Rancor.

 

“No, my Lord.”

 

“I wish to see your prisoner records?”

 

“Why, my Lord? We aren’t holding anyone of significance.”

 

“That is for me to decide, Commander.”

 

“Yes, Lord.”

 

The Commander ran to his office to retrieve a datapad.

 

“This is it.”

 

“You have performed your duties adequately. Return to your post.”

 

“Of course, my Lord.”

 

The Sith examined the datapad, and entered a nearby elevator. He exited into the detention level.

 

“Block 11, Cell 38,” he muttered to himself.

 

He entered the appropriate block, walked up to Cell 38, at turned to the guard.

 

“Leave us,” he commanded.

 

“I can’t do that, my Lord. Darth Ravage’s orders,” replied the guard.

 

“You will depart immediately.”

 

“I will depart immediately.”

 

The guard left. Inside the cell, there was a bored-looking man with a long coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He looked up at the Sith.

 

“Marr?!”

 

“Not exactly,” said Ductapin, taking his mask off.

 

“I told them it would work.”

 

 

 

Author’s Notes

 

Ductapin Seratos (Duct-Tape) is my Light Human Male Consular. Jaks Kenn (Jakskenn) is my Light Human Male Smuggler.

 

I’ve been waiting to use that joke for a while. I was looking for prompts, landed on Disguises, and decided it was the will of the Force.

 

 

[nervousheroA]

Comments:

 

 

@alaurin: This is getting good! I really like your descriptions of the characters, and the subtle gestures in between them. Makes for really good humor.

 

@Jamags Awesome: Yes! The Marr disguise worked! You have no idea how happy I am! I also really like your two Jedi. I can tell they're gonna be fantastic to read.

 

 

Ok, so I'm finally ready to post something (I blame RL. I figure it's a good enough excuse ). For the prompt Milestones, I've got my SW Giselle once again, how fitting. I'm actually really proud of this one. I'm kind of amazed, to be honest.

 

With 1832 words, this contains spoilers for the Voss storyline for the Warrior questline. Here's The Darkest Heart:

 

 

“Defiler…” the voice rumbled. “Trespasser… Sel-Makor warns… Retreat… Relent… Death awaits…”

 

Her eyes darted around the narrow hallway, waiting for the owner of the disembodied voice to jump her or something. Her apprentice gripped the hilt of her lightsaber tighter.

 

“I’ve got your back, Master,” said Jaesa, taking a few steps away from the door they had just opened with a murderous glint in her eye. “No one will come through me. Well, not in one piece, anyway.”

 

Not really looking at her, Giselle nodded in her general direction.

 

“Stay right here. No living thing is to set foot in this chamber without my say-so. Clear?”

 

“Skaidrus,” she replied, mirroring her master’s use of the Sith word for crystal.

 

“No closer…” The voice seemed louder this time. “Desist… Death embodied… Death…itself…”

 

The Sith clenched her jaw.

 

“Yep. This is it. The Voice is here. No doubt about it.”

 

Stepping into the chamber, it was clear this was the end. There were no tunnels leading anywhere besides where they came. The chamber was decorated in the same manner as the others all over Voss, torches with light blue flames dotted the walls, a small pool of water served as a centerpiece. At the far end, she noticed a figure. She could feel a cold sensation creeping over her skin. It brushed the very tip of her senses, but seeped deep into her flesh. Her mainhand flew into her hand instinctively, still sheathed, but ready to go as she slowly made her way across the room to the mysterious person facing away from her. As she got closer, it was evident he was Voss, clothed in the familiar garb of the local Mystics. Every step she took, however, both confirmed and denied his existence as a Voss, the cold sensation intensifying with every step. Suddenly, he spoke.

 

“Wrath. Come to me.”

 

His voice lacked the distinctive echo of Sel-Makor’s from a minute prior. In fact, it seemed more subdued, but it shoved its way into her spirit all the same. The Voss turned to face her, and she immediately returned her weapon to her belt.

 

“I am your Emperor.”

 

Those four words alone broke all semblance of control she had managed to maintain during her trek through the Dark Heart, but the way his eyes suddenly and briefly glowed a bright red confirmed his statement of fact. The glow washed over her, subtly bringing her to her knees without her realizing. His words brought her gaze to the floor, not daring to look into his eyes directly.

 

“My lord Emperor,” she whispered, daring to breathe even that phrase.

 

“The noble line of Visteus…” he mused. “How appropriate that a survivor of the ever-loyal family of the Empire has been chosen for this role. Is that not so?”

 

Still bending over, she blinked furiously.

 

“Your favor…honors me greatly, my lord Emperor.”

 

The Voice chuckled.

 

“You are a loyal servant, as you have always been. Rise, my Wrath.”

 

She obeyed, bringing her gaze to meet his for the first time. While the glow was no longer visible, she could still feel the power radiating through him.

 

“Darth Baras plays the old games,” he started. “He maneuvered me here knowing this body could be bound to this place.” He seemed to glare at one of the several stone monuments in the chamber. Giselle was surprised it didn’t explode from simply being in his presence. At the mention of Baras, however, her nerves reignited.

 

“Baras has played me for the last time,” she growled. “I will make Baras pay for every deceit.”

 

“My exit is paramount,” he reminded her, and her energy dissolved as quickly as it had festered. “Sel-Makor’s dark secrets here are of import, but they can wait.”

 

A small part of her mind briefly wondered what exactly the Emperor would be searching for, but she quickly decided asking for his reasons was like drinking a planet. Not only was it stupid, it was also literally impossible.

 

“I must be released,” he continued. “Another time…I will return for what I require.”

 

She nodded, bowing slightly.

 

“I am yours to command, my lord Emperor. Tell me what must be done.”

 

“I am released only when this body dies,” he explained, “an oversight I will not repeat. But for now, the entity Sel-Makor makes suicide impossible. I will lower my defenses, and use my Wrath to kill this body.”

 

Her face quickly paled at what he was suggesting.

 

“There is no need for hesitation,” he said, obviously sensing her concern. “I will not die from a mortal blade, and I have commanded it.”

 

Some of her impending guilt was relieved at his reassurance.

 

“I am yours to command, my lord Emperor. It will be done according to your command.”

 

“I am ready,” he replied, clenching his fists. “Strike me down!”

 

Upon her mainhand reaching her palm, however, the room began to shake.

 

“No!” She recognized the voice as Sel-Makor’s from earlier. “Forever…bound!”

 

The room suddenly felt a million degrees colder. The Voice began to twitch uncontrollably, shimmering in both red and purple light. Her eyebrows nearly disappeared into her bangs as she watched, an unfamiliar sensation slicing its way through her veins. The lightshow suddenly died down, the red light completely taken over by dark purple. His eyes glowed the same color.

 

“Sel-Makor takes this body! Such…power!!”

 

Her breath caught, coming in ragged bursts as the entity’s energy cascaded over her. It was then she understood. This feeling…was pure terror. Both hilts flew to her hands now, igniting the room in the deep red that was now missing. She bent low, getting into position, and suddenly, the fear was gone. She felt a subtle, and yet prominent, presence gently feel its way through her. At that moment, she didn’t feel terror. She only felt rage.

 

The possessed Voice punched the air, sending a ripple of energy crashing towards her. She dug her foot in, crossing her blades in front of her in an X, slicing the attack before it could reach her. Condensing her energy, she let out a battle cry, sending her energy through her scream as she sliced the air in front of her. Sel-Makor was knocked back by the blast, landing on his back several feet away. Not missing a beat, she leapt towards him, blades raised to slice him in two. He anticipated the obvious closer, rising to his feet quickly and rolling out of the way, sending another powerful blast in her direction. Somehow, she sensed the blast before it was ever unleashed, already spinning away from its destination. Using the spin as momentum, she flung her offhand saber like a Frisbee, slicing through the air towards the entity. He ducked, the blade barely missing his chin, and so was unprepared for another leap towards him. Her right foot connected with his face, slamming his body to the ground before he could react. While pinned, he blasted her with energy, sending her flying through the air so he could return to his feet.

 

Like a manka cat, she landed on her feet, not missing a beat, as always. He rushed towards her unexpectedly, dark purple energy dripping from his hands. He flicked his wrists, her hands flying far away from her center against her will, and clenched her exposed face with his bare hand.

 

She screamed as Sel-Makor clenched harder, pushing his energy into her body, setting her soul on fire. It burned through her senses, drowning out all else. She tried to send a panicked mental signal to Jaesa, but found herself blocked. The pain intensifying, she quickly came up with a plan. A stupid plan, but what plan wasn’t stupid at this point, really? She shut down her defenses, and let the energy in.

 

She couldn’t breathe, drowning in the black water that was filling her body. She choked, trying to find air in the Dark Side but failing. Quickly, she instead drew from Sel-Makor himself. It stung as it raced through her veins, but she could suddenly breathe again, her senses dulled but still there. Before the entity could realize what was happening, she broke through his trap, and shoved her blade through his stomach.

 

She felt a snap echo in her mind, and then a sensation of spilling water, pouring out of a hole in the cup, draining into an unfathomable void. As it did, her senses returned, and the cool air sent ripples as it passed in and out of her lungs. As the world went from black, to monochrome, and then to full color, she observed the twitching figure of the Voss, the purple energy spilling out of the hole in his vessel’s chest.

 

“No!” it cried, sending its body through convulsions as it attempted to retain its weapon. Eventually, the purple stopped pouring, replaced with a soft, red glow.

 

“The entity…is vanquished,” the Voice announced, returning to the voice of the Emperor. “The life in this body is…ebbing.” He gazed at the exhausted form of Giselle. “You have done well, my Wrath.”

 

His voice crackled slightly, breaking off in certain points in his syllables like the audio cables kept coming out.

 

“Once I am released, the Hand will know all that has transpired. I cannot be trapped twice. They will continue to guide you in your efforts to ruin Darth Baras’s bid.”

 

This time, the name failed to rustle her so strongly. She felt the familiar tingle of rage upon remembering his actions against her, but they didn’t strengthen her as much as they usually did. Nevertheless, she bowed.

 

“As you decree, my lord Emperor. Baras will pay dearly for his crimes.”

 

“Revenge drives and burns with great intensity,” he said, “but it is a mortal fuel that leaves the tank bare.”

 

She recognized the words, spoken to her by her instructors over the years. Normally, she would be dumbfounded that he knew those words of her past, but his presence still removed any sense of disbelief.

 

“Voss holds no further interest for you,” he commanded. “Return to your ship. This…body…is expiring.”

 

With those words, the Voss’s legs came out from under him. He crumbled to floor in front of her, the body dead before it hit the floor. When it did, the cold sensation slowly dissolved away, replaced with the slight humidity of the jungle outside.

 

She realized she was shivering in spite of that.

 

To most Imperials, the Emperor was a rallying cry, to be sure, but no one even dared to dream of meeting the Emperor, not even the Sith. Even within Visteus, a family not well-known for their Force-Sensitivity, the Emperor was revered, the basis for the Empire’s continued existence. And now, not only had she met such a deity, but she had solidified her position as his Wrath. The combination of awe and terror was unlike anything she had ever experienced. As she sensed Jaesa’s presence rushing towards her, she was reminded of her original goal, which was not yet complete.

 

 

Author's Notes:

 

 

I hope you don't mind if I added a few pieces of dialogue for the scenes from in-game. I always feel like I need to slightly bend things to acknowledge specific details to my characters. This was a really cool moment for me in the story, and I doubt Giselle will ever forget it.

 

[JamagsAwesome]

Comments:

 

@nervousheroA: That was excellent. You really captured how frightening the Emperor can be.

 

 

 

Now, I’ll be moving on to the last of my main 8 characters, my SW.

 

Title: Not Like Them

Prompt: Worst Day Ever

Characters: Thralinn the Warrior, Augustus the Warrior

Chronology: Roughly a day before the Class Stories

Word Count: 275

 

 

Thralinn pulled her hood down over her eyes as she shuffled along the streets of Kaas City. She never liked the rain, not that it ever went away. She preferred it on Ziost, but when her father became a Darth, they moved to Dromund for “political reasons.” Thralinn never really understood it, but she put up with it. She pulled the grocery bag she was carrying deeper inside her cloak.

 

I’d better get home before this gets any more wet, she thought.

 

Suddenly, she noticed a crowd gathering just off the street, and went to see what was going on.

 

“Please, my Lord, I meant no harm! I’ll… I’ll go back to Korriban, complete my trials. Just don’t kill me,” said a small man, a little older than Thralinn.

 

Above him towered a Sith, in heavy armor. A Togruta.

 

“It is the Emperor’s will that all force sensitives must train or die. You should have considered the consequences before you defied him.”

 

The Togruta drew a lightsaber.

 

“No! Please!”

 

“Sith do not beg,” said the Sith driving his blade into the poor Acolyte.

 

Thralinn’s stomach churned. That was a Sith. Her father was one of them. If she was force sensitive, she would be one of them. It made her sick.

 

She hurried home, but found something unexpected when she opened the door. Two Imperial soldiers were talking to her father.

 

“Please, Darth Thallett, don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be. We just need to know where she is.”

 

“Where who is?” said Thralinn, against her better judgement.

 

Her father looked up at her.

 

“I’m sorry, my child,” said the elder Zabrak, “They’ve come to take you to Korriban.”

 

 

 

Author’s Notes:

 

Thralinn is my Light Zabrak Female Marauder. Augustus (the Togruta Sith) will be my Dark Togruta Male Juggernaut, when the Togruta species comes out.

 

 

[Feldraeth]

Hey again, I'm back.

 

Replies

 

Jamangsawesome:

I would use dialogue, but it always comes out a little stilted. Descriptions and combat are far easier, in my opinion anyway.

Um yeah, Roan's pretty unusual for someone raised on Korriban. There are reasons for it, but I won't go into them just yet... spoilers

 

@Frauzet:

A Debt of Freedom: Yeah, anyone who casually uses a flamethrower in combat isn't the nicest person. However, there's a reason an arsenal merc is using it so often that I might get into when I release the epilogue. As for stepping back to view the carnage, it's why I used Vette. I originally wrote it up with Zul, including her conversation with the General, but the combat didn't quite flow so well.

Lethality: Thanks, unfortunately this piece shows just how out of date I am - agents don't get orbital strike anymore

 

 

 

Comments

 

 

Not sure how many I'll get through but...

 

@Jamangsawesome: Wow, you're certainly prolific. How do you keep the pace up while maintaining quality?

Scars: Wow, nice backstory. I especially liked the little touches, like Akky the Akk dog and the sacking of Coruscant.

Boarding Action: poor Umbrandis, I'm always aware of the plight Imperial officers have, especially under Sith. Wonder whatever happens to Augustus to bump him back down to initiate.

The Shuttle: Nice for Umbrandis to meet a Sith who isn't an outright monster. There are some out there, though they are sadly rare.

Another day on the job: Halo jump to the desk, nice aim. Loved the interplay between Mako and Torno before they went all business.

100: Boo - loved that moment above the rest.

Where I come from: Aw, Xalinia is so sweet, even if she's a budding little sociopath. I'm a fan of Miraluka, though I thought they only came from Alpherides or the Jedi temple (after Darth Nihilus wiped out Katarr).

Told you so: it worked. Also, the consular's the only Jedi who can really pull off the budding Sith Lord act, just look at their antics on NS.

Not like that: Oh, the slow buildup. We know what she becomes but wow.

 

@Alaurin: going to be careful here, the last time I commented on a Corso romance, it all went very wrong. It was my fault, but I'm still going to be careful. I liked your characterisations and the build-up to the spy story. Don't suppose there's a chance it'll turn out to be Corso... no? oh well.

A god place to start: I like the honest and casual relationship Kitt and Bella have, but you always do great characterisations. Also, I like how Kitt's establishing her cover, there won't be anyone better suited to start out with. As for 'falling behind', even I understand that family comes before an online community.

 

@NervousheroA: Wow, yep that defintely counts as a milestone, especially for a pureblood. I reckon you put it perfectly, like meeting a deity. Awe-inspiring and utterly terrifying, even when he's not trying to be - he just is. As for pilfering conversation quotes... yeah, none of us have ever done that *rolls bluff *

 

 

 

I have a few stories this time, some long on standby and finally finished writing them. Others are slightly more appropriate for recent prompts (I know there's no such thing as an inappropriate prompt, but I'm trying to stay a little current )

 

Prompt: From a certain point of view

Titles: In with the New

Character Lord Braca of the sphere of Biotic Science

Word Count: 3,049

Chronology: Immediately after the Black Talon

Spoilers, mention of the Black Talon and nothing in game aside from very general Kaas city spoilers

 

 

 

My holocomm. beeped. Glancing up from the absolutely thrilling report I had been reviewing, I noted it was dark outside: so much for quickly reading through it before supper. Fishing the device out of my robe, I read the caller ID. I didn’t recognise the comm. frequency used, but the device registered it as known. Interesting: who would call me, especially at this late hour? I tapped the receive button.

 

A boy materialised above the device, tinted blue. I knew him. We’d met most recently on Vaiken the previous day: Roan, Darth Baras’ newest apprentice. He sat hunched and shook in a way his holocomm. couldn’t really compensate for. I suspect he’s on a transport of some kind.

 

“Speak,” I authorised, the higher status Sith in this conversation. The slight confusion on his face exploded into triumphant delight. Ah, so there was a time delay: he was relaying his call via a ships transceiver to a hyperspace buoy. He wasn’t in any system. Unusual, since I know he wasn’t leaving the Stygian caldera.

 

“Lord Braca, or maybe Lady Braca, it’s all a bit fuzzy on that,” he began, and I bit back on a smile. Although I am a woman, I am a Sith Lord. A Sith Lady is the formal title given to the spouse of a Sith or a pureblood noblewoman.

 

“Uh anyway, Hi. You know I might’ve killed your apprentice? Well, I have a-,” A blue elbow blurred into frame and jabbed him in the cheek. He squawked, jerking away. One hand flinched towards his lightsaber, but he caught it before drawing the weapon. He wasn’t under attack, just cramped.

“Sorry,” someone just out of visual recording range apologised. She had a soft voice, likely belonging to someone weak and pliable. I trust that wasn’t someone he took into combat with him.

 

“As I was saying,” he restarted, glaring at the person off-camera, “I have a new apprentice for you. See,” He craned forwards, turning the holocomm to point away. As he did, I got a lovely view of his unintended assailant, a young human woman with cybernetics. Beside her sat a hard looking Chiss in tattered and scarred armour. Then he turned the camera down, showing a twi’lek in a burnt tunic and leggings.

“See, she was a Jedi, a Padawan if that means anything special, and she’s a twi’lek. She’s all yours, to replace Jerky the iceswimmers’ lunch. We’re heading to Dromund Kaas right now, but I don’t know how long it’ll take. It was meant to be a couple of hours but then we went after a Republic ship and an Imperial general called ‘The general’ because Kilran was going to blow up the ship if we didn’t.” Wow, note to self, never tell him anything I don’t want widely disseminated. At least until he learns what discretion means, assuming he lives that long.

 

I checked his berthing before he left: he’s on one of the ships suborned into Logistics. Darth Vowrawn would have Kilran flayed alive if he found out he commandeered one of his toys. Kilran may be the Grand Moff, but even the greatest Grand Moff is lesser than the lowest Sith in the eyes of the Empire. Darth Vowrawn is one of the most powerful Sith in the galaxy. Not even Darth Malgus, Kilran’s patron, could step in and save him, not that he would of course. If Kilran is going to be more trouble than he’s worth, Malgus will discard him.

“I have someone on Kaas who can take delivery, but they’ll need at least an hour’s notice to get to the spaceport in time. Call me when you arrive in system and we’ll go from there.”

“Okay, I’ll call you then,” he chirped, altogether too cheerful for someone who just effectively sold another’s life to cover a perceived debt, “Bye.”

 

The holocomm winked out, returning me to relative darkness of my office. The familiar shadows cast by wasted light from my holographic monitor danced around the room like Chiss shadow-dance theatre. Lightning flashed through the large bay windows, gleaming off the rows upon rows of datacrons and matched pair of holographic trees before them. Light from a small datapad also gleamed off the golden-yellow eyes of my apprentice.

 

“Master, have you been holding out on me?” Matria, my apprentice, asked with baited breath. There are a great many things that I have not told her. Some are for her safety; others for my own. Some are personal and others merely inconsequential. Of matters pertaining to her understanding of the dark side, I would chide her for being lazy and remind her that the way of an apprentice is to ferret out her master’s secrets. I have taught her the underpinning philosophies and techniques to harness and compel the dark side. It is up to her to master it. Only then will she be strong enough to strike me down and take my place, the natural way of things.

 

This may seem harsh, but it is why we Sith are so much more powerful than the Jedi. Ambition is a virtue and the only way to advance, to gain prestige and greater authority is to take the place of someone more powerful. Simultaneously, those with station must defend it from all competitors: stagnancy is a death sentence among our mostly meritocratic society.

 

Some seek promotion through straight martial prowess, becoming shadow-clad dervishes of destruction or unstoppable juggernauts. However, they cannot simply murder their way to the top: attacking Sith without demonstrable provocation is a serious crime, even for other Sith. Others, like me, seek out the secrets of everything: life, death, the dark side. After all, knowledge is power: through discovery or unearthing such, we gain might or understanding powerful enough to overcome our rivals. It isn’t a perfect solution, but far better than the alternative.

 

The Jedi claim to be teachers, but they restrict themselves and their young from any idea their council deems dangerous. Among the Sith, there are no such limitations. Certainly, there are deaths, a few dozen apprentices failing to apply their hard-won secrets properly, but it is their choice. Ultimately, that is the essence of the Sith, personal freedom and choice. Ah, but I digress.

“Always, could you be a bit more specific?” she paused, choosing her words carefully. I am unlike Darth Acheron, Dark Councillor and my master’s master, I will not punish her for poor grammar. She is wary simply because it is a bad habit to learn, especially when said dark lord might call or drop in at any moment. There are downsides to working in a sphere of the Dark Council.

 

“He claims he killed your apprentice yet I am your only one, as far as I am aware. Since you didn’t cut him off, I assume he isn’t lying, so…” she paused, considering her question carefully, “how many apprentices do you have?”

“just you, so far,” I answered truthfully. Lies would spur her passions, the hurt and implied betrayal hardening her resolve, but she doesn’t need that. She isn’t a meek little Jedi to corrupt: she is a true Sith, by blood and title.

 

“He killed Willikan’s new boy. You know, that preening Sith supremacist fop,” I continued, answering her unasked question. She rolled her eyes: she knew him far too well. He’d started calling and messaging her about a month ago, initially very courteous but his tone became steadily more aggressive as she refused his attentions. I have granted her immunity from reprisal should he meet an unfortunate end, but she refused thus far. While I know just how much she longed to forcibly remind the little twerp of his place, his master is ostensibly an ally: as in he wasn’t openly out for my head. Well, I suppose the apprentice wasn’t a problem anymore.

 

I use the term ally loosely for there can never be equality among the Sith. You are either weaker, and thus should be dominated, or more powerful, and thus need to be supplanted. Willikan is less powerful than I am, though he will of course claim otherwise. I do not value political prowess as highly, though I command a greater understanding, both of the dark side and our work.

 

“The little fool ambushed me over lunch on Vaiken,” I continued, watching her expression. I had half-expected her to gape and marvel, eyes wide with thoughts of pitched lightsaber duels and a display of my overwhelming dark side might. There was no such thing, of course, but it always helps to let your apprentice think there’s far more they have to learn. Even if they’re woefully unprepared to take you down, some still try it: finding and training another is a chore. She didn’t do any of that.

 

Instead, she thought about it for a moment. I suppose that’s even better, even if it doesn’t have the same padding for my ego. Matria is my apprentice, likely my eventual successor. Nothing so simple should awe her. Leave adoration to force-blind servants.

 

A long moment passed while I debated this, until she finally asked, “If he ambushed you, how come this boy killed him? Who not do it yourself?” She hadn’t assumed combat: good girl. Don’t believe anything anyone tells you unless you can independently verify, especially me. I have a motive, just like everyone: granted it is to ensure she becomes as powerful as I can make her, but I also like breathing. I’m in no rush to be supplanted just yet.

 

“I don’t mean a literal ambush. It was more or less a civil conversation until he picked a fight with a ten year old boy, and lost,” I recalled, smirking at his overwhelming stupidity. Anyone senseless enough to get caught attacking Sith on Vaiken outside the practice areas or sanctioned duelling pits will get outlawed. Outlaws will be obliterated by any number of bored dark lords, or bounty hunters and intelligence agents, eager for the opportunity to test their skills against a Sith.

“Do I even want to know what he was after? Did I come up?” Thankfully, he hadn’t gotten that far.

 

My apprentice is cursed with the terrible burden of being stunningly beautiful; intelligent; powerful in the force and from a long, proud line of purebloods. Aside from her father, they hadn’t had a force blind survive birth in generations. More importantly to some, she has Sith ridges down her cheeks, and more prominent ones from throat to between her cleavage, across her lower ribs and all the way down her spine.

 

These markers show she has purer blood than most purebloods, which makes her ideal woman for any Sith supremacist. I’ve had numerous demands, offers and even a proposed apprentice swap from said idiots. Normally, I ignore them, but her aunt, my master continually pushes her to bear children. It’s how I can be sure of her loyally, through obligation if not affection.

 

She owes her position and continued existence as a Sith to me and she knew it. Without me to shield her from her aunt’s depredations, she would’ve been married to some prominent and prestigious Darth and spend her days squirting out heirs. For some, that life is a dream realised, but I know better. That life would murder her mind and that’s a travesty equal to the Republic genocide that largely eradicated the Sith species, in my opinion anyway.

 

“No he didn’t get that far in, it was more a social call. You know, ‘How are you? You’re a lesser race and an insult to all Sith. How’s the Kushari’: The usual kind of thing. I suspect he wanted to persuade me to command you to see him. Either way, he didn’t like me noticing a senior intelligence official in there with his family, so he went to go murder them.

 

“Imperials in the Top Deck? I thought that place was Sith and retinue only,” Matria remarked, and I felt my tattooed eyebrow quirk. I still remember being refused service there when I first became Sith: a mistake the next doorman didn’t make.

 

“It still is. I believe Roan is his grandson or something. Anyway, he took exception to that and threw him in the iceswimmer pool. They ripped him apart.” Matria winced, and I resisted the urge to flick her through the force. She wasn’t one for blood and became nauseous at the mere sight of it, a nuisance trait she’s never been able to properly excise.

 

“Ugh, charming. I suppose we’ll have to tender for the replacements.” She was absolutely right. Lesser creatures are forbidden to murder Sith. This goes all the way from almost humans like Iridonians and twi’leks to Iceswimmers and Tuk’ata. The beasts would have to be executed and replaced: a pity since getting the genetic makeup for their hybrids was a real hassle. I had to work through two of my front corporations just to get access to the endangered Kuati Iceswimmer genome. I think I still have it on the Lindlyn biomedical backup server.

 

“Did so on site and they accepted. I suspect they’ll want them before their grand ceremony this weekend.” This weekend was Empire day, a solemn remembrance of our exodus and a celebration of our triumphant conquest of the Dromund system. A veritable who’s who of the Imperial court will be at the top Deck, a neutral ground outside everyone’s domain, bar the Emperor of course. I wasn’t invited: far too many Darths and dark councillors to take offense at my lekku. Darth Viscera might be more open minded than the average Darth, but she won’t parade her little freak in polite company, not when she has alternatives. No, I think Lord Romain will be there, probably stealing credit for my Iceswimmers. To him, who did something didn’t matter as much as who knows who did it.

 

“So…” she began, trailing off, trying to phrase what I knew she was going to ask in a way that didn’t tell me what I knew she was thinking. Aren’t Master/apprentice relationships fun? “you have a new apprentice?” I nodded slowly, there were a few logistical issues I needed to sort out before she joined up. I’m sure Eirue could handle them, but was on Ziost. sometimes, these things required a personal touch.

 

“Will you be staying on Kaas to pick her up?” she asked, and I could hear the almost palpable hope in her voice. ‘Tell me your desires, so I may deprive you’. The raspy voice of the overseer echoed in my head. I swatted it away. Matria doesn’t need to work on her hate reservoirs.

 

She hoped I would stay close, ostensibly so she could ask questions without the hassle of a holocall. In truth though, I suspect she didn’t like being an eligible bachelorette this close to the lords and Darths in the citadel. After all, we were only a ten-minute speeder ride away and no security system in the galaxy could keep out a determined and passion-fuelled Darth. I would take her with me to Ziost, but someone needed to stay in Kaas at all times, in case Darth Acharon wanted something delivered personally. It was why I had the Kaas apartment: I’m the only one in my master’s stable of apprentices and underlings who could distinguish between an epithelial cell and a red blood cell. It’s shocking how little other Sith know. I suppose that’s the downside of self-directed study: no breadth. As for my apprentice, she would have to endure.

 

“I can’t. I’m overseeing the MCP project back on Ziost for the next fortnight. I suspect you’ll be showing her around the place and handling most of the day-to-day stuff. I’ll take her off your hands when I get back.”

“But if you’re on Ziost, how are you going to pick her up? I doubt logistics will transport a captive Jedi cheaply.” She’s right, of course. I am more than a little surprised that a logistics ship was involved in any of this, Darth Vawrawn is usually very cautious with his ships. The querying squint dropped off her face as realisation slapped her across the cheeks.

 

“I had assumed that you would pick her up. You’re on planet and you’re clear for this week.”

“Uh,” she trailed off, mind jerking to her mental diary. The only fixed appointment she had this week was a prospective date with some upcoming Lord her aunt, my master, had set up for her: a Lord Wratharee or something. Undoubtedly, he was another toadying sycophant or supremacist moron who only wanted her for her bloodline. It means little to me if she skips the date. Sith really shouldn’t date Sith: it’ll only end in bloodshed. Not that Sith-Imperial pairings are any safer. They just have less collateral damage.

 

One side of her face curled up into a lopsided smirk, “sure, as you wish, master.” That’s the spirit. Use the excuse to pick the new apprentice up to get out early if he tries anything. After all, he will try to dominate you: he will almost certainly be the more powerful, “Just one thing.”

“Oh?” I quirked a tattooed eyebrow: more humouring her than concerned. I suppose she might enjoy his company and want the date to last longer, but then she should arrange to meet again. She really shouldn’t discard a socially acceptable avenue for escape. After all, she might need it.

 

“You called him Roan,” she stated, smirking slightly too insolently for my tastes. She must have gleaned some hidden meaning in my words. This didn’t bother me as much as her smile. Were we in public, I would rebuke her for such lack of respect. Appearances have to be maintained, especially for those of us who cannot rely on our lineage and connections in social warfare. Fortunately, we weren’t in public.

“Yes, and your point is?” I asked, gesturing her to continue.

 

“You don’t remember anyone’s name, especially not from the first meeting. You know this boy,” she deduced, her brazen smirk transformed into one of triumph. Ah, she figured it out. Remember when I said I kept secrets, this was one of them. Fortunately, it was merely personal, and not for either of our safety.

“That is a long story, though I suppose I can finish reviewing this report tomorrow. Have someone prepare our supper: I’ll tell you while we eat.”

 

 

 

Notes

 

I made up Chiss shadow-dance theatre. It’s akin to Japanese kayabuki theatre (pardon the spelling, I don’t have internet to check, and if you’re reading this, I clearly didn’t edit this before posting, like an idiot.)

 

 

 

This one is a bit more prompt relevant, though it is based on Balmorra, not Kaas.

I thought I'd try a more script like approach this time. Not too pleased with how it turned out, but it's certainly shorter than my usual fare.

 

Prompt: Words, words, words

Title: Completing Balmorra

Perspective: Vette, Twi’lek adventurer

Word Count: 813

Spoilers: SW Balmorra, mention of late stage Balmorra planetary questline

 

 

 

“It’s not my place, Lord Baras. I leave that for your apprentice to convey,” Quinn apologised to the pudgy little representation of Darth Baras.

“Then step aside, my apprentice has arrived,” Baras welcomed with the faintest hints of exasperated relief, “Nice of you to join us, Quinn refuses to update me, insisting the privilege be yours. Tell me everything.” The kid , mouth slightly open, as if trying to piece together a response.

“Well,” we had to sneak into Blammaran arms because the republic put their army in there because they had a hyperspace beeper…”

---

“- and then we ran all the way back to Sobrik and I faced the Jedi and she was all ‘Mwa ha, I have sent this report to the council. They know all about your plans, Sith’ and we fought and she used a weird shien-makashi hybrid which was weird and shouldn’t go together because Shien applies Makashi principles to Soresu but I beat her and then Quinn came in and was all like ‘I hate to burst your bubble Jedi. No, that’s a lie: I’m revelling in it’ and was really cool and then she was all ‘kill me if you must, but I’m a snobby Jedi and am resigning peace’ and then I was all ‘Nope’ and had the captain tie her up and throw her in custard. Then Vette and I went for Ice-cream and then we came here and spoke to you.”

 

Baras stared blankly down the holo. “Oh, mine was chocolate swirl with a cherry.” The room was quiet for way too long, except for the kid sucking in a huge breath. Baras stared at the kid, his mask as impassive as a glacier. Quinn stood smartly in some military resting march or something, but I did notice he’d gone a few shades paler. Yeah, I know right? He gets paler than Sith-white. I was actually kinda impressed that the kid pulled all that off without needing to take a breath. The kid beamed expectantly at his boss. Slowly, with almost mechanical grace, Baras turned to Quinn.

 

“Your summary, Lieutenant,” he commanded, the whispered growl tearing the ice in his voice into daggers. I kinda felt a bit bad for the Lieutenant. He’d delayed giving his murderous boss an update so the kid could, and Roan had well, been himself. Morbidly, I wondered if I was about to see him get choked across the holo. What, It’s not like Baras rewards good service: Rylon’s living proof of that. Uh, or was anyway. Making a Darth wait might be executable.

 

“Mission success, any hint of a connection between you and Rylon has been destroyed. Furthermore, we have the Jedi investigator in custody. Would you like her sent to you, my lord?” Quinn fired off, his Kaas drawl slithering over the words like butter on a stack of space-pancakes.

“I see. Yes Lieutenant, that would be most excellent. Hopefully, she will provide us with more insight into Nomen Karr’s Padawan. I look forward to getting my hands on her,” he mused, wringing his hands in what I hope is purely Sithy anticipation. Quinn bowed stiffly and left. Seriously, was there anything that gut didn’t do that was stiff?

“I had hoped to avoid confronting the Jedi but our hand was forced. What matters most is that Rylon can no longer be exposed. And how would you assess Lieutenant Quinn’s contribution, in five words or less?” Roan slowly pushed his mouth around his scrunching face.

“Really stiff, but really continent,” he answered, flicking a digit for each word.

 

“don’t you mean competent,” I asked rhetorically, leaning towards him conspiratorially. What? It worked

“That too: wait, that’s seven,” a twitch shot up his face as he realised it wasn’t, “eleven.”

“All my agents are competent, apprentice,” Baras warned him, his voice colder than the void and half as hospitable.

 

“Robo-face wasn’t. If we hadn’t been there, dumb and dumber would have run off with the frosty the agent,” Roan argued, and even I didn’t get that one. Did he mean Rylon’s kid? No one else was after him.

“Hmn, oblivious officer with facial cybernetics, able to reassigned with little difficulty. I believe he may mean Commander Lanklyn,” Quinn reasoned, returning to address Baras over something.

 

“Ooh, that’s useful: can I keep him?” Baras glanced at the Lieutenant before focussing on his apprentice.

“That is an excellent idea. Quinn, I’m putting you up for a captaincy. Your new station will be on the interceptor as my liaison to my apprentice. Do not fail me, captain. That is all.” Then the holo died, leaving us with our new crewmate.

 

Okay, so yeah: that just happened. Quinn was coming with us. Sure, bunking with a stuffy Imperial captain isn’t my idea of a great time but at least he can fly a ship. hey: how bad could he be?

 

 

 

I wrote this piece because it amused me and I like writing combat (who would've guessed). This piece takes place on Nar Shaddaa, as the title suggests.

Edited June 9, 2015 by Feldraeth

[Feldraeth]

Did anyone know these posts have a 50,000 word limit? Here's the third story I planned to write. As you might have suspected, it's a bit long, hence I've split it into three sections. I wrote it because I thought it would be hilarious.

 

Prompt: Family, Worlds colliding, Health

Title: Nar Shaddaa: Reunion by Proxy

Character: Sergeant Elara Dorne, Havoc Squad Medical Corpsman

Word Count: 6,044, split into three parts, 2,282, 1,494 and 2,268

Spoilers: Mention of Nar Shaddaa Trooper and the planetary side quest

 

2,282

 

Nar Shaddaa, not one of the first places I would’ve chosen for leave, but needs must. I didn’t want to stray too far from my new squad, Havoc squad, even if I am unable to join them in the field. I stared out over the railing, watching the distant traffic, and sighed. Right now, they were infiltrating a deserter base to reclaim a vital asset while I am stuck up here on the promenade. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy violence as much as the next medic, but I wish to do my duty. Without me out there with them, they could bleed out from relatively minor wounds.

 

Officially, I am on mandatory leave while Colonel Gaff’s denial of transfer request is completed. If he is successful, I return to his command under Taris. Strange, He was never impolite but I had the impression he wanted me gone. It could be a petty abuse of power but more likely, he had realised that casualty rates are likely to rise without me taking on the search and rescue missions others refuse. Part of me feels bad leaving fellow soldiers on that fetid planet, but the rest is glad to be gone. I’ll go where the Republic needs me of course, but I do not foresee Taris ever returning to a safe or stable planet, at least not in my lifetime. How many more were going to die for the Governor’s dream?

 

Turning my thoughts away from criticism of lawfully elected officials, I glanced around the park. It wasn’t large or grand, just a metal square with blocky metal benches and holographic trees arranged in simple geometric patterns. I leant against the railing on the southern edge, vaguely aware that a thin rail was all that kept me from a several kilometre drop. Three buildings flanked the courtyard, blocking my view to the north, east and southwest.

 

The Northern one appeared to be an apartment building, with five sets of balcony walkways running along the exterior. Three ways joined the courtyard to the rest of Nar Shaddaa, to the Southeast, Northeast and West. The western route was a full-blown road, older model or slightly run-down speeders lining it, with the other two being smaller alleyways that snaked around buildings. Perhaps I’d found a truly quiet place on this moon of lights and noise, aside from the quiet din of distant speeders.

 

“Hey you,” someone called in my direction. Ah, I knew it was too good to be true, “You know what day it is?” I checked my chrono. It displayed the date as well as the time.

“Fifteenth of the eighth, using the Coruscanti system,” I called back, seeing who asked. A snout nosed whiphid stalked towards me, clad in black leatheris trousers, boots and sporting a set of winding black tattoos on his shaved arms. He lazily balanced a techblade as long as I am tall across his oversized shoulders. Two advosec, attired in swoop-bike leathers flanked him. Both had two pairs of pistols strapped to their thighs, and criss-crossed bandoleers full of grenades. Why do I suddenly suspect their intentions are less than noble?

“Nope,” he called back, a cruel grin stretching over his tusks, “It’s payday.”

 

As the Advosec drew their blasters, I hurled myself behind the nearest bench. A solid metal affair, it would probably hold up to small arms fire. The grenades would be a different matter. I have twenty-five shots in my holdout’s power pack, more or less. Theoretically, I wouldn’t need more than that. Muggers would seek easier, less defended targets. I heard the yowl of tibanna gas canisters charge and felt a burst of warm in the bench behind me. That changes things.

 

I drew my holdout pistol and opened fire, spraying a trio of shots over where the three had been. Then, back behind cover before their chattering reply. I don’t know if I hit any of them, but I certainly made them reconsider charging me. That would give me a few moments, long enough to call for backup.

 

Even hardened criminals fear the authorities, not for what they are, but what they represent: a veritable army of order, devoted to protecting the innocent and capturing the wicked. Merely calling them could drive the gang away. I didn’t call the local authorities: I went the step beyond. After all that business in the Red Light sector, Republic personnel are to call in any troubles with the embassy, notifying them so they can send a squad.

 

“Republic embassy, this is Sergeant Elara Dorne, operating number 77-034-32; I am under attack at these co-ordinates. Assailants are armed and dangerous. Please advise,” I called into the holocommunicator. A shot tore the device from my hand before I got a reply. Pressing my back into the bench, I glanced around, looking for the new shooter. There, to my left, a white Rodian had darted around the bench. Flicking my pistol in his direction, I opened fire. Two verdant blasts ripped through his midsection. He staggered down, white blood seeping through the burns. I couldn’t stay here.

 

I peered out around the side of the bench. Another two had joined the sortie, both Wequay, a male and female so similar in appearance, build and attire I mistook them for clones. They took cover behind the eastern bench, and levelled a pair of hand cannons at me. I fired a pair of shots at both of them, to keep them wary.

 

I needed to escape, possibly lose them in the warren of back alleys I’d traversed to find this point. Problem was, they almost certainly knew the alleys better than I. The last thing I needed was them trapping me in a dead end. However, all this was dependent on being able to escape the courtyard. I reviewed my equipment.

 

I have a holdout blaster, medscaner, a med kit with anaesthetic tablets, my now-broken communicator and my civilian gear: purse, credits, ID card and comfortable dress. The medkit contains sterile dressings, Kolto patches, anti-bacterial spray, anti-burn gel suitable for mammalian species, pressure bandages, Asherman seals, and disposable gloves. The powercell for the communicator doesn’t have a charge strong enough to stimulate the blaster’s Tibanna gas gain medium. I have nothing that really can be used to affect the situation.

 

A stomping charge warned me moments before a techblade sheared through the bench. I threw myself into a clumsy roll; all too aware I left the protection of my cover. Moments from now, blasterfire would rake thorough my body, but it was better than the alternative. It’s relatively easy to patch a blaster wound: I’d need surgery to have any hope of surviving if the techblade hit me. The shots didn’t come, the other gangsters obviously not skilled or brave enough to shoot while the tattooed Whiphid was so close.

 

The techblade duellist wasn’t the Whiphid, it was a sickly yellow-green twi’lek, and she was built like a hovertank. She leapt the bench in a leap so swift and smooth I briefly wondered if she was a Jedi. Rising from my roll, I staggered back as she planted her size nine boot in my midsection. She followed through with a low sweeping kick that stole my footing. I hit the duracrete floor hard enough to punch my breath away.

 

Rolling at the last minute, I felt the crackle as the blade sank a few centimetres into the duracrete floor. Palming my fallen blaster, I fired a trio of shots straight up, at the swordswoman. They exploded across a tan-brown screen, a shield. She left her sword embedded in the duracrete. Instead, her large hand clamped around my neck her other hand crushed my pistol and hand. With casual ease, she lifted me off the ground, body and all. Then she began choking the life from me.

 

No amount of training or preparation can prepare you for some things. Being lifted by the neck and choked unconscious hurts, a lot. I kicked at her, but she didn’t even notice my paltry assault. Already, I could see inky spots start swirling in my peripherals. Any moment now, she’d choke me out cold. I did the only thing I knew I could. I stabbed my thumbnail into the soft flesh of her wrist.

 

Most mammalian humanoids share a centralised nervous system, and pressure points were ubiquitous on them. She let go, only for a moment, but that’s what I needed. My blaster came free, and I pumped shot after shot into the shield. I’d have to get lucky and hit it on a back-cycle sooner or later. The sound of shattering transparisteel told me I’d gotten through. I kept firing, straight into her gut.

 

She roared in pain and slugged me hard, in the chest. The blow ripped me from her grip and I clattered to the floor, rolling until my back smacked into the railing. My lungs burnt, pain to match the blossoming rainbow of agony in my chest. Ah, I think she cracked a rib. Slowly, I got back to my feet, leaning against the railing for support. I raised my pistol. I don’t know how many shots I had, but it’d be enough to take her. A breeze shook me, and I noticed the railing wobble with me. Perhaps I didn’t need to use all of them on her.

 

The Twi’lek ripped a chunk of the pavement out with her sword, and then turned to glare at me. Hefting it up in an overhead strike, she charged straight at me. Her shield was down, but I didn’t fire just yet. She charged across the gap with surprising speed for her size, and swept the blade down at my head.

 

I sidestepped at the last moment, and pumped a shot into her midsection. She staggered, smacking into the sundered railing. It didn’t hold her. She bayed a fierce, ******* roar as she tumbled down, to her death. Everything was silent, save for the distant speeders. Had that really just happened? Perhaps now they’d be more amenable to civilised discourse. They started shooting at me again: or not.

 

Ducking, I hustled over to the nearest bench, shots spattering off it. Skidding on the tarmac, I half spun, half fell against the bench, the cold metal jarring my back. Pain blossomed from my side, my ribs, and I bit down on a curse. It wouldn’t help. Instead, I drew the med scanner from my purse and ran it over my side. Severe bruising, to be expected, and a possible hairline fracture on my left sixth rib. I didn’t have anything for the rib, but I swallowed a mild analgesic for the bruises. Still, all things considered, I’m fortunate to have only one wound.

 

I’m somewhat amazed how none of them hit me: I’m in point-blank range. Any Republic trooper or imperial guardsman could have picked me off either during the twi’lek’s assault or immediately after it. Then again, these lot aren’t trained soldiers, they’re thugs and assassins. They have to resupply themselves, so they can’t afford to waste shots on a practice range I suspect that life might be cheaper than ammo here.

 

Reaching up, I swept a golden lock away from my face. When on duty, I usually keep my hair secure in a tight bun, but I’m not on duty right now. Briefly, I considered tying it back, but then realised all my hairbands were on the ship. I hadn’t planned to be ambushed on the promenade the safest place on this dirty moon. If I get out of this, I’m ensuring that one is wrapped around the grip of my holdout from now on.

 

I peeked over my cover, and sighted the nearest gangster, a gangly twi’lek by the railing. I ducked back behind cover, poked the top of my pistol over it and aimed where he’d been. I fired. It clicked, dry.

 

“Damn,” I muttered to myself. I was now unarmed and just killed three of their gang. Another quick peek showed a Nikto join the sortie, cutting off the last free exit. Now there were nine, the Whiphid and his two cronies in front, two Wequay taking cover around behind a bench, watching the West avenue. A rail-thin Twi’lek glowered at the Southeast alley and grisly looking Nikto guarded the Northeast alley. Another two, both human, were on the layer above, full-length rifles trained on me. This is far too well orchestrated for a simple mugging. It looks professional. The only thing missing is someone keeping everyone coordinated and scouting for security. I was against nine with no way to defend myself or call in backup. It was time to discuss terms.

 

“Sergeant Elara Dorne, operating number 77-034-32: I have notified the Republic Embassy of this sortie. I expect the care afforded to me via the captive personnel treaty,” I called out. The Republic has a treaty mandating the proper treatment and release of captive republic soldiers. Individual Hutts would lose face if anyone violated the treaty in their territory and the Cartel would formally censure them. I suspect though, given the warnings showing up around the Red Light sector that the real problem is not the treaty being violated so much as the Hutts being caught doing so. All bureaucracy has limitations and even regulations cannot solve bad faith. I had seen it back in the Empire: loyal soldiers taking part in massacres and genocide simply because a superior or Sith demanded it.

“You killed Bo, you’re now worth way more to us dead,” the lead gangster sneered. I froze, dropping back behind cover. Worth more dead: who valued my death enough to put a price on my head?

 

 

 

1,494

 

“Get away from her, you alien trash,” someone roared from behind me. Glancing up, I saw something blur off a balcony three stories up. The purple blur ploughed into the whiphid, red and blue hazes whipping through his Advosec buddies. The blur rolled on the ground beyond the crushed Whiphid, and I saw it was small, humanoid and wore a long, dark coat, or robe. Then it leapt at the twi’lek, hurling a pair of red and blue beams twirling at the riflemen overhead. Both flew true, searing through duracrete cover, man and weapon alike. Recognition pulled my heart up into my mouth. They were lightsabers: a Jedi had come to my aid.

 

A shot spattered on the Jedi’s shoulder just as he planted a boot in the gangly twi’lek chest. He went flying back, smashing into and through the southern railing. Trash fell into the lightless depths, and so did the railing debris.

 

The Jedi hissed a yelp as he glared at the shooter, the Nikto by the alley. The ridge-faced alien stared transfixed at the wrathful Jedi, his crimson lightsaber streaking back to him. Something about that sentence doesn’t sound right. The Jedi reached forwards, and the Nikto started gasping, clutching at his throat. Cold realisation crept down the back of my neck, ignoring my jumpsuit, top and bra as it slithered down my spine. Jedi don’t brutally choke people with the force: my ‘rescuer’ was Sith. Perhaps a tactical withdrawal is in order.

 

Glancing around again, I spotted a holographic tree maybe fifteen metres away, the emitter thick enough to duck behind. From there, it’d be simple enough to slip away, down the southeast alley. I’d only discounted it earlier because there’s no way to traverse fifteen metres of open ground without getting shot. I hazarded a guess that the two Wequay in cover were more interested in the Sith than their target.

 

I hauled myself up, and shots exploded around me. Dropping, I felt something hot flash over the tip of my ear. I scrabbled back behind the bench. I wasn’t going anywhere. Obviously, they weren’t that distracted by the Sith. Said Sith, eager to make them reconsider, charged at them, scarlet blade sparking as it swept their shots aside. I heard sizzling and screams, then nothing, save for the distant traffic and the steady hum of his lightsaber, the weapon of my imminent execution.

 

“It’s okay now, they’re all dead.” Someone called out in a chirpy Korribani accent: the Sith, I assume. Okay, I could still run, perhaps I could make it to the maze of alleyways and lose him there. No, sith are faster, stronger and have a predator’s reflexes. If I ran, he’d hunt me down. It was his nature. I couldn’t fight, couldn’t flee. I stood up and faced my death.

 

My death was a child, a boy of maybe ten or eleven years. Shoulder-length, floppy, ginger hair was slicked back, showing off the scarlet tattoo that ran over his right eyebrow and under the eye. Said eyes were a brilliant green, with perhaps a hint more yellow than blue. He was pale, not the deathly pale of dark side corruption, but of remaining indoors for a summer or two, a traditional Kaas pallor.

 

He wore a purple robe over a Supernova T-shirt. A simple leatheris belt held up a set of white trousers. A pair of mud-spattered, calf-high boots with intricate red patterns on them had tucked into them the bottoms of his trousers. His crimson lightsaber hung from the left side of his belt. The blue lightsaber, probably taken off a Jedi he’d murdered, flew to him, slapping into his hand with a fleshy smack. He sheathed the blade and then dropped the hilt down his sleeve.

 

Spinning, he surveyed the carnage he’d wrought upon the gang and bounded over to me. In one, two hopping leaps, he landed about half a metre away, perched atop the bench’s backrest. I uh I stood still, hand on ribs, watching the strange Sith. He watched me back, his long hooked nose reminding me of a Corellian eagle’s beak, and then cocked his head to the side.

 

“You feel familiar. Have we met before?” he asked and I froze. I don’t recognise him, but if he knew me from my old life, or knew anything of my new one, there wouldn’t be a regulation in the galaxy that could save me.

“Have you ever been stationed on Korriban or Dromund-,” His eyes widened as his face lit up.

 

“Oh, I know who you are. It just ‘Dorne’d on me. My, how hilarious: I’ve never heard that one before. Then he giggled, apparently at his own joke. I stayed absolutely still, unsure what he’d do next. This day just keeps getting better. Wait, he knew of my family…

 

The Dorne line has been without Sith for nearly five hundred years: I’d thought everyone had forgotten about us, or that they’d been executed for my actions. The Imperial military has a policy of executing entire families of traitors, to dissuade defectors. So far, the policy has been surprisingly effective. I only know of three families wiped out, and I researched it for a project at the academy.

 

“You know my family?” I asked, hope staining my voice with its indelible hue. He dropped the giggle and started counting off his fingers.

“Yep! I’ve met Ensign Danica Brukarra, Captain Leftenant ‘Duchess’ Sarnova and Commander Vasil Dorne,” he answered and I felt the familiar lodestone drop from my shoulders. My sister, cousin and father were still alive. That meant there was a good chance that the rest were alive too. In purges, the first to go were military members, as they were the quickest to find. I knew this all too well, I’d run the simulations through my head for days before finally defecting.

 

He hopped off the bench, turning a flip in the air before landing, facing me. He only came up to my breast, so I had a clear view of the hole in his robe.

“You’re hit,” I noted, reaching for the medical kit in my purse, “Remove your robe so I can treat you.” Already, I ran possible scenarios through my head. He is unarmoured, so the shot would almost certainly require medical treatment beyond what I can manage in the field. What I could do was sterilise the wound, apply burn gel and then improvise a sling to limit movement of his arm. The last would be much easier if he wore armour.

 

On Republic issued armour, a series of small but sturdy hooks fit on either side of the collarbone-shoulder join. These were designed so that the wrist that should be immobilised could be latched securely in place, though some thought it prudent to block them with ammunition belts. What it meant was that triangular bandages were not standard republic military issue and while I had augmented my off-duty kit with non-military gear, the requisition for medical supplies for use by civilians was low priority. I sighed: I liked this jumpsuit. Still, I’m not going to suggest ripping up his robe to improvise a sling: I’ve heard that Sith get lethally attached to their clothes.

“Huh,” he glanced down at his shoulder, poking a finger through the hole, “I’ve had worse.”

 

I fixed him with my best inscrutable medic stare. Years of battlefield triage had taught me that soldiers, imperials especially, didn’t like taking a moment to staunch their wounds while a battle raged. They just popped stim after stim until their hearts gave out. He looked up at me defiantly, then something flickered across his face and he obeyed. He sat down on the bench, normally this time. I sat beside him, medical kit on my lap, watching as he slid the coat off and rolled up thee burnt sleeve of his T-shirt.

 

The only damage I could see was a light patch of redness on his shoulder. If it had been anywhere else, I would have determined it to be a light graze but it was dead centre on his shoulder. He should have a gaping hole, with blackened bone and scorched sinew exposed to see.

“By the,” I breathed, catching myself before I swore. Soldiers may not mind if their medic swears, but children do not need to hear that kind of language.

 

“Ragate made sure I can hold up Tutaminis in battle,” he explained, as though that answered the question. Glancing at me, his brow curled before his face lit up, “Oh, that’s energy drain and redirection.”

“I… see,” I answered, not really getting it. I comprehend that he used the force to somehow drain energy but could that really be a point defence? I’m not a force wielder, I really don’t know about such things. The boy glanced around, as if finally noticing the destruction he’d wrought. I spared myself another sight of the carnage.

 

 

 

2,268

 

 

“Why were they after you?” I paused, my mind jerking from the force’s mysteries to a mystery of my own. I didn’t know of anyone who wanted me dead and would use a street gang as mercenaries. The Empire would send an Intelligence operative or possibly bounty hunter to capture me, but both would be highly trained and most likely former military. The Imperial military doesn’t outsource if they can avoid it, from an operational secrecy standpoint as well as the cost. There was no one else who wanted me dead, as far as I knew. This view was obviously inaccurate.

 

“I do not know,” I admitted, also wondering for whom they worked. As I mentioned earlier, this was far too organised for a simple attempted kidnapping. That meant someone was after me, “but I plan to find out.”

“We could ask the Nikto.” He offered helpfully.

“Uh, my lord, you crushed the Nikto’s windpipe. He’s dead, sir,” I pointed out.

 

“Huh? Oh, not him, him.” he padded over and tapped the closest Wequay with his boot, the female Wequay. They might not have mammary glands like mammalian women, but the species is sufficiently dimorphic to easily distinguish between the two.

“She’s a Wequay, sir,” I explained quietly.

“Really? Huh,” he mused, “either way, they’re yellow so we can torture them for their secrets.” The blitheness in his voice really didn’t mesh well with the content. I’m going to ignore that last part and assume he meant interrogate.

 

“May I, my lord?” I asked, slightly warily watching him for any movement. I have heard how territorial Sith can get over their ‘kills’ and it would only take one errant flick of his wrist to remove my head. Him believing I was a loyal Imperial wouldn’t save me. The Dark lords of the Empire cared little for the lives below them.

 

“Sure, you can probably speak their language too,” he allowed, his tone so innocuous I almost flinched. Hold on; he can’t speak Huttese? Everyone speaks Huttese it’s almost as universal as basic. Even those who couldn’t form the words because their vocal chords can’t form the prerequisite sounds could understand it. No, his linguistics doesn’t matter, her life does. I padded over to the fallen gangster and surveyed the damage.

 

Patient is Wequay, female and has a shallow plasma burn to the lower torso area, exposing section of the intestines. Surgery to return intestines to body cavity will be necessary, as will sutures. However, that must be done in a hospital to avoid internal haemorrhaging. Yellow-brown ooze accompanies intestines, characteristic of a haemorrhaging gall bladder. Patient shows signs of childhood, adolescent and recent malnutrition. Scars on face and exposed body are consistent with systemic and long-term physical abuse. Both will likely affect recovery rate. Advise antibiotic scrub before surgery and immunobooster afterwards. Until then, treat burn damage and apply anti-bacterial spray to reduce potential contamination.

 

Before I could do any of that, I needed her attention, and consent. Part of the Republic’s medical code of conduct is the notion of consent. A patient has to agree to being treated, and can choose to refuse treatment. To get my corpsman medical license, I had to swear an oath to abide by such decisions. I couldn’t treat if she refused me. Since the offer of treatment was part of my deal, she could easily take her secrets to the grave. For once, it’s a good thing few outside the Empire are willing to serve until death.

 

I clicked my fingers in front of her face a few times, until she blearily focussed on me. She was already more ashen than the average Wequay, characteristic of fluid loss. I had to work fast, to get her consent, the information I needed and to save her life.

“I am a medic. I’ll patch up your wounds if you tell me why you were after me.” I watched hope start to shine through the fear in her eyes. Cold realisation that I might be the first person to have ever offered her a fair exchange in her short life slapped me across the face. Feebly, she nodded. I set to work.

 

Drawing the medkit out of my purse, I slipped on the disposable gloves. Then I doused them with anti-bacterial spray. Burns are nasty, painful and I don’t have a burn spray suitable for Wequay physiology. The last thing she needs is a toxic reaction to the mammalian spray, or an infection in her raw, exposed skin. It’s why I recommend the scrub and immunobooster.

 

“How is my twin brother?” she asked weakly, in broken basic. I glanced up, at the headless Wequay a few metres away.

“I’m sorry: he died instantly,” I consoled, unspooling the sterile dressings from my pack. I can’t do much for her without proper medical scanners and equipment, but I can improve the chance she reaches a hospital alive.

 

“Bad job to take. Knew it was risky, you Republic fighter, but far much money,” she wheezed, rolling her head up to look at the other Wequay.

“Stay still,” I commanded. The last thing I wanted was for her to see her dead brother, and decide to avenge him with the vibroblade in her boot.

 

“Who hired you,” I pushed as I gently wrapped the dressing around her wound. She might’ve been trying to kill me moments before, but a lot can happen in a moment.

“No know. Graush to have talking with money man. Offer a lot credits for you: dead or in collar.” I graciously ignored the last bit. What they had planned didn’t matter so much: they failed.

“Who’s Graush?” she rubbed her arms: Graush was the Whiphid. I glanced back at the Whiphid. The Sith had smashed him into the ground like a tent peg on its side. The holocomm was almost certainly broken.

 

Red flashed in my periherals and her chest sizzled. I glanced up to see the crimson blade protruding from her sternum. With a quiet little gasp, she died. I stared into her eyes for a long moment. They had been the most delicate grey, though they now faded to glass.

“Why?” I asked quietly, something stirring within my breast. She had been a threat, but she wasn’t one any more.

 

“She told us what we wanted to know and she tried to kill you. You heard her say it too. Its justice,” he answered, pulling his crimson blade out from her chest. He doesn’t know the meaning of the word. Justice is a set of codes of practices that ensures everyone is treated justly. It isn’t murdering the helpless because they did something wrong, it’s helping them because they need it most. Imperial justice is its own brand of hypocrisy, but I’m not going to belabour the point with a lightsaber half a metre from my face.

 

Instead, I folded her arms over her pierced chest, put my medical kit away and got up. Slowly, I walked over to the flattened remains of the whiphid. Reaching down, I patted his trouser pockets and after a minute felt the slight bulge of a holocomm. Carefully fishing it out of the tight sweat-smelling leathers, I held it at arms-length and tapped the log button. Blue static formed over

 

I could make out some numbers and names, but nothing matched. The emitter was too badly broken.

“It looks broken,” Roan offered helpfully, “Do you have someone to look at it for you?”

“Maybe back at the base,” I answered truthfully. Agent Balkar could probably get the data off this, but I’m somewhat hesitant to involve anyone associated with Havoc’s current mission with the boy.

 

“If not, I know someone who’s really good at slicing tech, and someone who’s a secret agent cipher,” he offered and I briefly wondered whether the SIS could surreptitiously interrogate him. It would be risky, but imagine the wealth of intelligence we might get from him.

 

Just in the few minutes I’ve known him, he’s revealed that he’s privy to an influential Darth’s plans, knows the identity or recognising features of a cipher agent and knows the current layout of Imperial high society. No, it’s too risky. All it would take was one force premonition or slip up and it would cost at least a dozen honest, hard-working people our lives, not to mention jeopardising Havoc’s mission. Ancillary intelligence didn’t justify the risk.

 

Still, I could accompany him on his mission to save the Republic, and see what else I picked up. After all, until the challenge to my transfer is complete, one way or the other, I’m off duty. Providing intelligence is of greater use than rereading the regulations manual for the thirteenth time.

 

“I’ll accompany you back to your garrison,” he offered and I froze. His tone was light, face open and surprisingly easy to read. All the tales I was told about our tyrannical masters and my own experiences have shown the Sith to be inscrutable monsters at best. This one though had apparently not noticed that I am a defector. He must’ve assumed I was Imperial military based on my operating number and accent.

 

“That’s okay: I can make my back safely. It was partially true: Balkar’s SIS office in the consulate was just a few blocks from here. Of course, I couldn’t simply walk up to the consulate building with him and claim it was my garrison. The large Republic flags would give me away.

 

“No, they attacked you and we don’t know who put out the bounty. What if they try again, or have friends holding back? I’ll take you wherever you’re going and tell your commandant to keep an eye on any evil aliens. He’ll obey a Sith and then you’ll be safe,” the child insisted, and I bit back a chuckle. A child was treating me like a child, how ironic. Still, I don’t exactly have a friendly Imperial garrison to pretend I belong with. I suspect even the boy will realise twi’leks and Cathar can’t join the military, let alone lead a squad, even if he didn’t recognise the republic military and Havoc squad logos on their shoulder-plates.

 

“I’m on loan to intelligence,” I lied, it was the best thing I could come up with on short notice that didn’t sound ridiculous. I’d called out an operating number so he knew I was military. The fact that he’d assumed I was Imperial was a boon in and of itself: the empire doesn’t have a Captive Personnel treaty with the Hutts.

 

“Ooh, you mean like secret Cipher stuff,” he asked, his eyes as large as plasma grenades.

“Nothing that advanced, mostly security, some on-site medical emergencies: a fixer handles most of my briefings,” I answered, recalling one of my first jobs after graduating from Ziost military academy. I realised my mistake the moment I said it. Fixers are tech specialists: minders handle security and personnel.

 

“Uh, you’re not attached to Lord Rathari, are you?” Okay, he didn’t know or realise, thank the stars.

“No my lord,” I answered with total honesty: I have never been, or ever will be under a Sith Lord’s command. He quirked his head to the side, his face looking slightly perturbed. I have no idea why he did so, but few things about this strange child made much sense to me.

 

“It’s Roan, unless we’re in company,” he paused, face scrunched up as if trying to remember something. Then it exploded open, “Good, because I need to kill his troops for attacking the Republic.” Uh, what?

“Uh, may I ask why?” The empire is built on foundations of unity and loyalty. Everyone was supposed to work towards the same goal, complete subjugation of the galaxy, and that included Sith. I’d left the empire,

 

“Sithy politics stuff, he ran off with one of Darth Baras’ agents, so I’m here to kill him as a warning to the others,” Roan explained, casually admitting to treason. Good thing I’m not actually an Imperial. Wait, he was meant to kill the agent or Rathari? If Rathari: then this boy was someone to watch. Anyone who can take down a Sith Lord is powerful in their own right.

“Actually, you might know him: Agent Dellocon?” I shook my head.

“Sorry, no-one uses their real names, only designations.”

 

“Oh well, shall we go now?” He asked, glancing around. Already, I could hear the faint whine of cartel security sirens. We couldn’t just leave. There were witness statements to fill out, victim support assurances, Medical supply forms: the bureaucracy of the galaxy didn’t stop simply because someone, Sith or not, wanted it to. I knew I should stay, to assist security with their enquiries, but a sudden flash of paranoia swept through me.

 

From what I’ve seen on Nar Shaddaa, bribes are probably involved. The Republic Army has a zero tolerance policy on offering or receiving bribes. I cannot offer one, and I know that will bias security against me, even though I am the victim in all this. It would set a very bad precedent to require the Lieutenant to bail me out of a gaol cell. Worse yet, whomever had offered a lot of credits for my head probably wasn’t shy of bribing security officers. Spending time in a Gaol cell could easily become a death sentence. I nodded to the unearthly child.

 

Something gripped my fingers lightly. Glancing down, I saw he had taken my hand in his. With that, he half-led half-pulled me out into the lunchtime crowd. Today will certainly be interesting, even if it might be my last.

 

 

[JamagsAwesome]

Replies:

 

@Feldraeth: Frankly, I have no idea. I just wait for a new post so I’m not double posting, then I write up a story.

Boarding Action: Actually, Augustus is a Sith Warrior, but he’s not the Sith Warrior. I mostly just use him whenever I need a Sith who’s a jerk.

Where I Come From: I probably should’ve researched Miraluka a bit more, but I didn’t have a specific homeworld in mind, just somewhere invaded by Sith. Balmorra, maybe?

 

 

 

Comments:

 

@Feldraeth: Wow, I feel dumb. When you kept calling Roan a kid, I didn’t realize you meant a kid. This gets more interesting by the minute. Also, nice job writing Elara. You really captured the way she thinks.

 

 

 

Now, more Thralinn.

 

Title: Thought You’d be Taller

Prompt: Enemies, Rivals, and Nemeses

Characters: Thralinn the Warrior, Ja-mags the Knight

Chronology: After Shades of Green, Not Like Them, The Shuttle, and Past and Future (also before the last segment of that one ), just after class stories, but before Ilum, not that it really matters

Word Count: 637

 

 

Thralinn stepped out of the shuttle. The hangar was nearly empty, except for a figure dressed in Jedi robes, with a green jacket and mask, leaning against the only door.

 

“Y’know, I thought the Emperor’s Wrath would be taller.”

 

Thralinn folded her arms. She was not amused.

 

“The last one’s about twice my size. Good guy, by the way. Actually, that’s not true, but he’s smart, at least.”

 

“Are you coming to a point, Jedi?”

 

“No, not really. So, are you here to kill me or General Sarken?” said Ja-mags.

 

“Not necessarily either of you,” Thralinn said.

 

“That’s a lie.”

 

“Yes, yes it is. I’m supposed to kill both of you. I just think that this doesn’t have to end in bloodshed.”

 

“Are you proposing something? Because I won’t back down, and I get the feeling you won’t walk away.”

 

“Stop the commando raids on Taris, and no one has to die.”

 

“Yeah, as if you haven’t murdered enough people already to get that planet. That’s not my call to make, and unfortunately for you, the General isn’t seeing anyone at the moment.”

 

The hilts of his lightsabers snapped into his hands.

 

“Fine then. We’ll do this the hard way,” said Thralinn, drawing her own sabers.

 

Ja-mags flicked the activation switches on his weapons, and two yellow blades sprang to life. He started rushing toward Thralinn.

 

“Your main-hand saber is blue,” he said, suddenly flipping over her head, “Why?”

 

Thralinn spun around a blocked Ja-mags’ strike.

 

“It’s the crystal I chose. Why do you care?”

 

Ja-mags reached out with the Force, and pushed Thralinn backwards, but she quickly regained her footing before he could reach her.

 

“It’s not a typical Sith color.”

 

Thralinn responded with a push of her own, knocking Ja-mags’ legs out from under him. Ja-mags went into a roll, locking sabers with her as he stood up.

 

“You might have noticed I’m not a typical Sith.”

 

Ja-mags brought his foot up and kicked her in the stomach, before leaping back.

 

“As a matter of fact, I did. You’re not angry. You’re calm. Almost like-”

 

“Don’t even say it,” said Thralinn, lunging at him.

 

“There it is, the anger,” said Ja-mags, sidestepping and whirling around to put himself between Thralinn and the door again.

 

Thralinn turned to face him, when something dawned on her.

 

“You’re holding back, too…”

 

“Guilty as charged,” said Ja-mags with an audible smirk.

 

He was starting to get on her nerves. They lunged at each other. Ja-mags unleashed a series of precise strikes quickly, but at irregular intervals. It was all Thralinn could do to block them. He force pushed her into the door of her shuttle.

 

“Stand down.”

 

“What are you stalling for?”

 

Ja-mags paused a moment, and put a finger to his earpiece.

 

“That. Now, there’s no way you’re going to get that door open, so that just leaves you two ways out of here, doesn’t it?”

 

“What do you mean there’s no…” Thralinn remembered who she’d sent to slice the door controls.

 

“Vette!”

 

“Oh, don’t look so concerned. Kira won’t bite. Too much.”

 

Thralinn whirled and ran for the shuttle. She could handle a snarky Jedi, but no one messed with her crew. Ja-mags chuckled as the shuttle took off. Then he activated his communicator.

 

“I think we made her angry. You might want to get out of there.”

 

When Thralinn returned to the hangar of the Imperial ship, Vette was sitting on the floor, rubbing her head, and there were lightsaber marks across the console she had been using.

 

“Vette, are you alright?”

 

“Yeah, I think I’ll be fine. In a week or two.”

 

Thralinn sighed.

 

“You realize that means I’ll be stuck with Jaesa, right?”

 

“Yeah. Sorry about that. You could always take Broonmark with you, and just pretend you don’t understand him.”

 

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

 

 

 

Author’s Notes

 

Thralinn is my Light Zabrak Female Marauder. Ja-mags is my Light Human Male Sentinel.

 

That should just about wrap things up for the Scruffy Legacy. I’m kind of anxious to move on to the Shiannas.

 

 

[Feldraeth]

@Jamangsawesome:

Replies

 

@Feldraeth: Where I Come From: I probably should’ve researched Miraluka a bit more, but I didn’t have a specific homeworld in mind, just somewhere invaded by Sith. Balmorra, maybe?

Didn't mean that. I was just a little surprised she wasn't from the usual places. Her family could have been settlers or refugees following Nihilus' attack, the same way Aric Jorgan, a Cathar (no Autocorrect, not a Catholic) is from the human dominated Rendili.

 

Comments:

@Feldraeth: Wow, I feel dumb. When you kept calling Roan a kid, I didn’t realize you meant a kid. This gets more interesting by the minute. Also, nice job writing Elara. You really captured the way she thinks.

 

Thanks, I should probably stop assuming people have read 6 month old posts and give important info, like that. Roan is an 10-11 year old mostly-human male. He isn't the Sith Warrior, instead ambushing the 'real' one, a total DS5 scumbag who was tormenting Vette, in the Tomb of Naga Sadow and 'freeing' Vette. Haven't gone into the why though.

 

As for the story, I liked it, especially the non lethal conclusion. Aside from one, I don't remember any written SW who don't value their crew (Leserbas' s Malicreve for those interested [pardon the poor spelling], even if it is their sole redeeming feature. I've also concluded that Vette is the best way to distract and ultimately best the SW. Perhaps I'll write up and post that exchange.

No new story this time, but I think I get a free pass considering yesterday

Edited June 9, 2015 by Feldraeth

[Bultitudes_Loke]

@Jamangsawesome:

Replies

... a Cathar (no Autocorrect, not a Catholic) ...

 

Reckon the Vatican is influencing autocorrect settings to make sure no-one talks about them? As if Béziers wasn;t enough...

[JamagsAwesome]

Replies:

 

@Feldraeth: Thanks. I needed them both to not be dead for reasons of my own, but I also wanted to have that confrontation. So, I came up with a way to resolve it.

 

 

 

*No Comments*

 

Now, we move on to my BC legacy (the others are on EH, by the way), the Shiannas. I say that like they’re all related even though they’re not.

 

I think I’ll start out with the Chiss Cousins.

 

Sorry it took me so long to get this up. I wanted to post a couple days ago, but Real Life disagreed.

 

Title: A Fast Exit

Prompt: Turning Points

Characters: Goldinyn the Currently-non-existant Smuggler, Joldinyn the Bounty Hunter

Chronology: A few years before the class stories – separate universe from all other stories I’ve written so far.

Word Count:

 

 

Joldinyn stirred in his bed, listening to the rain tap on the window of his small apartment on Dromund Kaas. Something shook him.

 

“Jol, get up! It’s time!”

 

“Wha-? Right now?”

 

“Yeah. I figure not as many people will notice us at…”

 

Goldinyn looked out the window.

 

“I guess it’s always night here, but it’s more night-ish than usual, at least.”

 

They made it out of the apartment and into the rain unnoticed.

 

“I’m starting to get why Sith run around with those hoods all the time,” said Jol.

 

“They think it makes ‘em look scary. Sort of like having the capitol on a planet where it rains and storms all the time. Impractical, but very dramatic,” said Goldy.

 

“You sure about all this?” said Jol.

 

“Yeah. I’m done with these morons. If they can’t keep their own slaves in line, they’re not going to have much hope of conquering the galaxy,”

 

“Also, keeping slaves is wrong.”

 

“Well, yeah. That, too. Not to mention, they’ve had a couple thousand years, and it’s still not safe to go between the city and the spaceport on foot,” said Goldy, gesturing at a gundark that was eating something on top of a nearby hill.

 

“What, you scared?” said Jol.

 

“Heh. No chance.”

 

They arrived at the spaceport. The guards checked them briefly. They both were carrying blaster pistols, but coming from Kaas on foot, they’d have been crazy not to. They entered, and Goldy led Jol over to an elevator.

 

“It’s right down here.”

 

“You really went through with it, didn’t you?” said Jol, as the doors closed and the elevator began to slide downwards.

 

The doors slid open, revealing a large XS freighter.

 

“Yep. I call her the Fast Exit.”

 

Jol gave him an odd look.

 

“Seemed appropriate.”

 

One week earlier, Goldinyn had purchased the freighter. Jol didn’t want to know where he got the money. It was new, in good condition, and came with all the latest bells and whistles.

 

“Where to, then?” said Jol.

 

“I’m going to Nar. I figure the Empire’s gonna want to flay us alive anyway, so I might as well try to make contact with the SIS.”

 

“So, you’re just going to trade in psychos for bureaucrats?”

 

“Eh. I don’t have to really work with them. Just help enough that they get me away from the Imps.”

 

“Whatever you say. I’m going to Hutta or something. Maybe even just stay on Nar.”

 

“You sure you don’t want to come with me?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Alright… Then good luck with whatever you’re planning,” said Goldy.

 

“Who says I’m planning anything?”

 

 

 

Author’s Notes:

 

Goldinyn is going to be my Chiss Male Gunslinger. Joldinyn is my Chiss Male Mercenary.

 

I enjoyed writing these two. I’ve arranged this legacy in a sort of chain of how they’re connected together, and I’m starting in the middle, so we’ll be seeing more of them.

 

 

[nervousheroA]

I am extremely behind, and I feel horrible for it.

Oh well, I'm making up for it now. Comments will come later, I promise (I'm usually so good at keeping up...), but whoever commented on my earlier story, I must admit that Giselle is actually not a Pureblood, but rather human. Her family is DESCENDED from Sith, like most Imperials, and Visteus does have strong ties to their Sith heritage to this day, but the currently family is human. Looking back, it's easy to make the mistake. I wasn't clear enough.

 

For Mixing it Up, I have a combination of Turning Point and Worst Day Ever. This one has major spoilers for the Agent's Chapter 1 finale, so read at your own risk!

 

Featuring my Operative Sierra, this one will influence and solidify her position as an Agent for the Empire. A whopping 5210 words, this is An Epoch of Terror:

 

 

She had always known she could die in this job. Then again, she also never expected events of this scale.

 

Her ship docked with the Dreadnought without incident, much to her relief. While the ship was locking down, she checked her prototype, mechanized suit. She had been working on it in between planets for the past few weeks, but it was still having issues. Mainly, the shoulder synchronization was off, meaning the pads would occasionally rotate out of alignment, sometimes flipping completely around inside the suit. Luckily, she had fixed the severe flipping-around issue on the way here, but the pads were still too loose. Oh, well… she thought. This is all I’ve got.

 

She and Vector left the ship to find Watcher Two waiting for them on the other end of the hanger. After a quick greeting, the Agent set out to confront the traitor, her mind reeling with all possible outcomes and odds of survival. The latter seemed practically zero. She stopped in the middle of the hallway, which made Vector concerned.

 

“Agent?” he inquired. “What is wrong?”

 

Without answering, she reached behind the trigger guard and pushed a tiny button. A small holoprojection flickered into view, shaping into the 2D image of two younger girls. One of them looked very similar to Sierra. The other was completely foreign to Vector.

 

“I haven’t yet had the chance to tell you this since you joined the crew, and I don’t trust Kaliyo with this kind of information yet. Vector, do you see the young girl next to me in this picture?”

 

“…Yes, Agent.”

 

She swallowed dryly, trying as hard as humanly possible to swallow both her fear and her tears. She was quickly failing in the first, and she wouldn’t succeed in the latter for much longer if she kept talking like this.

 

“If I die…you need to remain alive. Do you understand? You’re the only other person who has seen this. I need you to find her.” She chuckled softly. “She’s been running rampant across the galaxy lately, according to her messages as of late, but with connections like yours, you should be able to find her eventually, or at least her number…”

 

The Joiner recognized the clashing of despair and hope in her voice all at once.

 

“Agent…”

 

“No, Vector. Listen! You have to tell her the truth. You have to find her. Please.”

 

The two locked eyes for several seconds, and Vector could both see and feel her determination, buried in a wall of fear. He nodded slowly.

 

“Of course, Agent. It…will be done.”

 

She squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to purge her system of her emotions.

 

“All my life, I’ve lived feeling worthless. I could never contribute to the Empire my family has raised me to love. Even now, my instinct is to run. Run far away, just like when I was a kid. But now I know I have a place.” Eyes still closed, she turned the image off. “I became an Agent, a defender of the Empire. At last, I can serve my homeland, just as my sister now does as a member of the Sith. I have found my destiny, so to speak.” She opened her eyes, and her fear was successfully buried. In its place was a rare combination of resignation and determination. Not for a blaze of glory, but rather, a blaze of patriotism. She was raised for this Empire, and she would die for this Empire. Her prototype HUD flickered into view in front of her right eye, drawing a 3D schematic of the floor plan of the vessel. She cocked her rifle. “Let’s end this.”

 

She made her way to the command deck, and nearly choked when Darth Jadus turned to face her.

 

“So, you’ve arrived at last.”

 

“Cipher,” the Watcher said over the comms. “I know that voice…”

 

Sure enough, the Dark Council member Jadus stood in front of her.

 

“I expected too little of you,” he admitted. “You served me well on Hutta and on Dromund Kaas. I should have known you would serve me again.”

 

Her world as she understood it had suddenly dissolved into nothingness.

 

“Are you responsible for this?”

 

“Everything that has transpired has been at my command. My will is the destiny of lesser men. Accept the gift of your life, Agent, and we will discuss terror, the Empire, and the Sith.”

 

She swallowed, trying her best to hide her terror from the Sith, brain wheeling through her options. She needed time to work something out, figure out how much he knew.

 

“You talk, I’ll listen.”

 

“Be careful, Cipher,” warned Watcher 2. “You know what he’s capable of. I’m trying to analyze the situation, but it will take time. And if he has the command codes…”

 

“It was my desire that the Eagle unite the terror cells,” he explained. “It was my desire that my flagship be destroyed. I required a weapon the Dark Council would overlook. The terrorists became my unknowing servants, and carried out my plan.”

 

“You sanctioned the deaths of Imperials! You faked your own assassination!” She was quickly understanding just why Sith were so widely hated, even among the Empire.

 

“Only to achieve something greater,” he countered. “With my false death, I escaped the eyes of the Dark Council, and of Imperial Intelligence. After the Dominator, I came here, bringing with me those passengers worthy of preservation. I maneuvered my pieces into place.”

 

She could feel the true meaning of his words, remembered her encounter with him on Dromund Kaas…God, how long ago was that? She realized she had been played, and a foreign feeling started racing through her body.

 

“I’m not one of your game pieces, Jadus.” She could swear she was almost seething.

 

“You were once,” Jadus retorted. “Until I granted you independence.”

 

Watcher 2 spoke up.

 

“Keep him talking! Damn, you can’t fight him alone. His power is second only to the Emperor’s…”

 

“I accomplished two things during my absence,” he continued. “First was the dinnuation of the Dark Council. After my death, they warred amongst themselves, vying to claim my resources. Darth Zhorrid escalated the chaos. My daughter is doomed, but she is an adequate distraction.”

 

She nearly took a shot at him right then. She had never met a Sith so merciless, so needlessly cruel. Not even her sister was so…

 

“I can’t call for reinforcements so long as that jamming field’s active, but he’ll annihilate anything less than an army.”

 

She could hear the desperation in the Watcher’s voice.

 

“Don’t worry,” she whispered, trying her best to keep her own desperation out of her voice. “We’ll figure something out. He’s not getting away.”

 

“Understood. Running analysis…”

 

“Throwing the Sith into chaos was only the start. The rest of the Empire had to be prepared as well. That was the Eagle’s purpose: to sow fight and hatred. All this while, my Eradicators were growing. Now they are ready, and my victory is close at hand.”

 

This is it. This is the endgame for us both. What is it he really wants?

 

“What victory?” she asked. “What are you talking about?”

 

“The Eradicators will destroy the strongholds and apprentices of my enemies on the Council. So, too, will the Eradicators terrorize the Empire, then I will return to the Council, and lead the Empire into a new age, an epoch of terror.”

 

Each word he spoke froze her blood further and further, until she could no longer feel her blood anymore. He was speaking of genocide, targeted genocide, and for what? Sith games.

 

“I see where this is going,” said the Watcher. “He needs the Eradicator codes to make this work, but you have half the command codes.”

 

“Under my rule, all people will revel in fear and anger and degradation. These prizes will no longer be hoarded by Sith.” He paused. “But without both halves of the command codes, my weapons cannot be targeted. They will merely cost chaos.”

 

Something stirred within her upon hearing that. A fire she had never felt before when dealing with the terrorists elsewhere. I’m the complication. I am the pawn he did not expect. It was a flame that defied fear. It was a fire that purged her fear of death into something more.

 

“Sounds like you’re in trouble,” she smirked, almost sneering at the Sith’s lack of foresight.

 

“Perhaps,” he mused. “But your position is more tenuous. I know you have the second half of codes.” Her smugness quickly dissipated back to its previous state tenfold. “Without orders, the Eradicators will fire blindly. This serves neither of us. Enter your codes into the ship so the Eradicators can target my enemies. You will be rewarded. You will be my herald.”

 

Her legs nearly buckled under the implications of his offer.

 

“You expect me to betray the Empire for you?” Her voice was a blur of both terror and bewilderment.

 

“Soon I shall be the Empire,” he countered. “If you refuse, you will die at my hand. The Eradicators will still reap untold destruction. Your sacrifice will mean nothing.” He turned away, looking out the glass once more. “I can be merciful. Take the time to consider your choice. Then we can begin the true work.”

 

“You haven’t thought this through,” she countered desperately. “Kill me, and I take the codes with me.”

 

“A bold sentiment, but not a wise one,” Jadus retorted. Damn it… “With your death, neither of us achieves our desire. And only I will be in a position to form a new plan.”

 

Taking the hint, Sierra walked to the side of the command deck, and leaned forward on one of the computer terminals, bracing herself with her hands. Why is it suddenly so hard to breathe?

 

“All right, Cipher. Stay focused, and don’t look at Jadus. How are you holding up? Can we put together a plan?”

 

She shook her head slowly, licking her lips desperately.

 

“I don’t know. I have no idea. Got any suggestions, Watcher 2?”

 

“We need to reexamine our priorities. We came here to stop the Eradicators, but we weren’t prepared for reality. Our plan now has to focus on neutralizing Darth Jadus—everything else is peripheral.”

 

Cipher-9 recognized that voice. It was the voice that had purged itself of conscience, either by choice or not. It was a voice of resignation, one step above defeat.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“I’m sorry, Cipher. The numbers aren’t in our favor. You can deactivate the Eradicators right now, just combine the codes in the ship’s computers. But to keep Jadus from reactivating them, you’d have to blow out the ship’s reactor. It’s a suicide run, and chances are, Jadus will escape.”

 

“That doesn’t sound particularly horrible…” she said, trying to dodge the true consequences of such an action.

 

“It’s not that simple. If Darth Jadus escapes, he’ll come back. Not next year, maybe, but eventually.” She hesitated. “There’s another way. A way to stop him from hurting anyone ever again. We can lure him into a trap by gaining his confidence. Give him the codes to the Eradicators, and let him start his attack.”

 

If she wasn’t already bracing herself on the terminal, she would have collapsed for sure.

 

“Are you serious? Do you have any idea…?”

 

“If we want this to work, we have no choice,” Watcher 2 countered. “Prove your loyalty, and he’ll turn his back on you. He’s too arrogant to do otherwise. Once the Eradicators start their bombardment, you slip out of the bridge, and tear the ship apart. Then, sabotage the hyper drive, jamming beacon, and shields. Then I can call in reinforcements. The military, Dark Council, forcing Jadus to surrender. The Eradicators will be deactivated as soon as feasible.”

 

Her brain was almost numb thinking about this plan.

 

“Thousands will die for this, at least…”

 

“You’re making the right choice, Cipher,” she reassured. Or is she reassuring herself? “Enter the codes at the bridge console. Let Jadus target the Eradicators however he wants. Then we sabotage the ship. I promise, his victory will be short-lived.”

 

Sierra stared at the console, her emotions and thoughts all meshed together in a giant blender. Her hands started shaking feverishly, recoiling at the ethics of what she was considering. As her brain worked out every possible alternative, her head hung, and her companion could swear he saw a tear climbing down her smooth face.

 

“Agent…” He swallowed, knowing full well the implications of what he was suggesting. “We know this is not ideal, but we will support you in whatever you decide, even if we do not like the result.” He smiled softly, hiding his pain much better than she was. “It is our Empire, too.”

 

She glanced at him, and saw both the hurt and undying loyalty. She nodded slowly.

 

“Thank you, Vector…” She faced the monitor, holding the extension that would send the codes from the chip in her HUD to the terminal. Her face started to contort now, trying harder than ever now not to openly cry. “I’m so sorry, Mom… I have to… I’m so sorry…” And so, with trembling hands, she plugged the cord from her suit into the terminal, and saw the data streaming from her system to the terminal, and saw the bright blue letters read COMMAND CONFIRMED.

 

She took a jagged breath as the words flickered on the terminal’s screen, and she could see Jadus looking at her victoriously, causing her stomach to churn violently several times in succession.

 

“A wise decision, Agent,” Jadus said triumphantly. “Our new age begins. Across the galaxy, the Eradicators will raze cities, and destroy the prizes of my enemies.”

 

“All right, Cipher, Jadus is distracted. Make your excuses so you can get off the bridge and sabotage the ship.”

 

“I’m on my way,” she said numbly.

 

“Your thoughts are confused. A temporary condition, for which I have an anodyne. The distress calls, the cries of fear and pain, these will be routed to the ship as the Eradicators work. A thousand voices screaming in terror, will you savor them, agent?”

 

As if her blood couldn’t freeze any colder, it just did. Remember the mission, damn it! Don’t let those lives be lost in vain!

 

“My lord, I really should run a security check.”

 

“So you wish to be blind to the results? So be it, but remember. You have done well.”

 

“Go, Cipher! Casualties are mounting!”

 

She tried as hard as possible to avoid running out of the room. As soon as she turned a corner, away from Jadus’s view, she did.

 

It didn’t take long before the intercoms went off, causing her very soul to rupture into millions of tiny pieces.

 

“Something’s very wrong. We’re under fire, but I don’t see any ships!”

 

“Emergency alert! Repeat, we are under attack!”

 

“We need official clearance to evacuate! We can’t—“

 

She was used to holding her tears. They showed weakness, one that was easily exploitable. Throughout most of her assignments throughout the past few weeks, she had been able to control her emotions while in the field, just like she was taught. Today, though, she wept. It didn’t stop her from running, but all intelligent thought was quickly evaporating from her mind as the screams from the comms ran rampant in her head. She could barely register as her HUD identified her targets to sabotage the ship, to prevent its escape. Thankfully, the goal was simply to destroy them, which was one of the only tasks her guilt-riddled mind was able to comprehend. She set her blaster rifle, and could practically hear her sister reciting the mottos of the Sith from when they were little.

 

Emotion is a tool. Use your anger to gain strength. Through strength, power. Through power, victory.

 

She cocked the rifle, and let loose with the auto-release like she had never done before. She could hear a primal roar coming from…someone, but she wasn’t sure who it was. It certainly didn’t sound like her. She watched as the machinery was ripped to shreds by the hail of blaster bullets, and only stopped several seconds after she heard the dimming of the humming sound, after there was nothing left to shred. After drowning in her hazed state of mind for a few seconds, the Watcher started talking.

 

“The ship is crippled, Cipher. We’ve got a fleet of warships coming in, including three Dark Council vessels. Jadus can’t win against them. But until they arrive, you need to keep him occupied on the bridge. This ship can generate internal ray shielding. You can reroute the bridge defenses to trap him. Hopefully, it will hold until the fleet lands out of hyperspeed.”

 

That was it. That was her sentence. This was where she would die. Oddly, she was too numb to really acknowledge it anymore. She was ready to die. But first…

 

“Acknowledged. And Watcher 2?”

 

“Yes, Cipher?”

 

She started swallowing hard, feeling her fear creeping up on her again.

 

“You guys in Intelligence know I have a sister. You’re not stupid. You even know her name.” She paused, swallowing her fear again, which left another tear to crawl down her face again. “Tell her everything. And tell her…I love her more than my home.”

 

There was silence on the other end, except for possibly muffled tears herself.

 

“I promise, Cipher. It will be done.”

 

Sierra’s HUD generated the same image of her and her sister on the upper right corner, ever lingering in the back of her vision as she raced back to the command deck, jaw clenched, hands gripping her rifle white-knuckled. She couldn’t feel her feet hitting the ground anymore. This was her finale. She lived her whole life as nothing. She would die a servant of the Empire. It was a much better ending than she had imagined a year ago.

 

She arrived to see Jadus gazing down at her. She was thankful his face was covered in that mask, or she wouldn’t be able to move.

 

“After all you’ve done, you still return? How bold… I never expected you to pay such a price to betray me. So many innocents burning in their homes because of you.”

 

She couldn’t fully hear what he was saying anymore, the blood pumping furiously in her ears. She was, however, able to respond when he brandished his lightsaber.

 

“Mazo nuyak ss’horunas satyi, mazo sekleti Nu satyi tave Aeuso.” A peculiar haze clouded any sense of doubt and fear in her mind as she spoke the sacred motto of her family, their claim to fame, the reason for her existence. “For the Empire!”

 

She had never really fought a Sith before. Sure, she playfully dueled her sister with sticks from the jungle when they were kids, but that was nothing compared to the unrestrained fury Jadus let loose upon the Agent. Immediately, he let loose a bolt of lightning, which Sierra was barely able to dodge without being incinerated. Quickly analyzing the situation, she turned to Vector.

 

“Vector…” She hated doing this to her new companion. “I need you to be the main distraction. Can you do that?”

 

He merely nodded.

 

“We live to serve the Empire and the nest. Doing this accomplishes both.” With that, he lunged towards the Dark Lord without any moment of hesitation. Quickly scanning the area with her HUD, she saw the first terminal she would need to activate. After shooting some slow-acting kolto packs Vector’s way, she lunged towards her target. Luckily for her, she was able to use the circuitry in her suit to start imputing commands through her rifle barrel. Unfortunately for her, Jadus wasn’t stupid. Unable to approach her directly thanks to Vector, he instead shot a stream of lightning her way.

 

The pain was worse than anything she had ever experienced. Sharp, fiery pain shot through her entire body as pure, Dark Side energy raced along her veins and nervous system. She cried out, how could she not, could feel the mechanics of her armor starting to smolder from the intensity. Luckily, Vector reacted quickly, smashing his electro staff into the Lord’s chin, knocking him back just long enough for him to release his lightning. Sierra recoiled from the blast for a second, but thankfully the download completed without a hitch, and she took this time window to roll behind the booth before he could shoot anything else at her. She was already breathing heavy, but she saw Vector get knocked back by a Force blast, and her mind immediately clicked.

 

“Vector!” Wasting no time, she came out of her hiding spot and tackled Jadus before he could lunge to finish his kill. Unfortunately, Jadus didn’t move very far, and reeled back to let out another lightning blast.

 

“Give it up, agent.” He said, as Sierra dodged the shot yet again. “Submit to the fate of your polluted Empire.”

 

She poked her hand out of her hiding spot, flicking him off.

 

“You’re insulting the wrong Darth, agent.” Suddenly, he shot a powerful blast at her hiding spot, disintegrating the terminal she was hiding behind. She could feel the heat and could smell the very air smoldering as the explosion wrapped around her frame. She bit back another yelp as a piece of her suit melted and dripped onto her exposed thigh. Scrapping it off with the end of her rifle, she ran towards the other side of the room, trying to buy just a little more time. Just two more preliminary panels remained, then she could activate the ray shield. But she couldn’t get close to the necessary panels anymore, Jadus was in between both of them. Then she remembered another prototype she had been working on. Flipping the hatch to her power crystal in her rifle, she rotated a dial inside the barrel, switching the power source 180 degrees, switching the crystal with an electronic uplink cable, roughly 60m by her estimate. Locating the entry port on the console far away, she took a shot at her target. Like a tether cable on a Starfighter, the cable shot out in almost a straight line, and the tip of the cord embedded into the socket, transmitting the commands through the cable that ran from the cable, through the wire, and then wirelessly from the barrel to Sierra’s integrated armor. One down, one to go.

 

Jadus smacked Vector in the temple, knocking him out cold within seconds, and noticed the cord linking Sierra to the terminal. After a quick slash to the cable, he whirled around, and Sierra could feel his anger from where she crouched. She saw her final preliminary terminal behind him, and started weighing her options. She cursed her brain again. Taking deep breath, she charged the ruthless Lord.

 

Time seemed to grind to a halt. At first taken aback by her boldness, he quickly got over it and swung his saber back, preparing for a brutal swing where she stood. Luckily, years with her sister had taught her the various lightsaber techniques Sith used, so she was able to logically predict his method of swing, and she made the first successful front flip in her whole life, barely dodging the heat of the blade. Landing on the ground, she used the rest of her momentum to slide on the ground, closing the last bit of distance between her and the terminal. Sticking out her cable converter plug-in, she slid right into the port, syncing the commands. Looking behind her, she saw Vector rising slowly to his feet. He glanced in her direction, and she motioned with her eyes towards the terminal that would activate the shield. Nodding silently, he silently ran over to the terminal, and Sierra ran the numbers. The shield would only activate at the center of the bridge, as per Imperial protocol in the past few years. She had recognized the design of the ship. This meant she would have to lure him into the center, roughly 30m away from where Jadus was preparing another blast in her direction, to finally end her existence. After dodging it again, she glanced at the image of her sister, her and Sierra holding hands like caring sisters, before the war, before they swore their lives to something bigger than themselves, before the Republic sent mercenaries like the cowards they were… Her jaw clenched, and she let go of her soul.

 

She ran towards the Sith Lord, screaming a similar primal sound she heard earlier, but this time she recognized it as her spirit, manifesting itself in this one, last moment of her life. As predicted, Jadus let loose one final burst of lightning at his opponent, and it connected with a thundering blast. She cried out once more, feeling the same, piercing pain shoot through her body once again. She froze in her tracks as her armor started shooting sparks as the circuitry started burning to a crisp. Her vision started failing as the pain started working overtop of the adrenals that still lingered in her system. She struggled for breath, and could barely see that she was directly facing the center of the bridge. Her HUD fizzled out of existence, the picture of her past disintegrating into less than a memory. She only had enough energy to do one final act. She struggled to reach for her belt, and pulled out a single grenade. She glanced at the enemy, reveling in the moment of his glory, and pressed the button.

 

A loud explosion ripped through the air as the grenade blasted the two combatants apart. Sierra was knocked to the ground, losing all control of her body at this point. Jadus, unprepared for the explosion, was pushed back a fair distance, chest still smoldering from the heat of the blast. He made another move to lunge at his victim, but was surprised to hear a loud hum, followed by a large, red box encasing him where he stood. Vector immediately ran to the Agent’s side, who could only shrug him away with one hand, barely able to speak.

 

“No… Get to the terminal…” She gave him the plug-in with the shut-down code. “Go… Don’t worry about me…” He took the cord and ran off.

 

“Your cage cannot hold me,” Jadus warned. “Whatever you hope to achieve, your moment will pass.”

 

Sierra chuckled quietly.

 

“Don’t…worry,” she grunted. “It will…work long enough…”

 

As if on cue, at least a dozen warships landed out of hyperspace, opening fire on the weakened ship’s defenses. Jadus, recognizing his defeat, turned to look at Sierra with what was probably a look of absolute hatred.

 

“Long live the Empire, Jadus…”

 

 

 

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

 

“…Agent…”

 

She couldn’t see anything, could barely feel anything. Her eyes flickered between half-open and dead closed. As she slowly regained her senses, she could feel the Kolto padding system inside her armor clumsily but steadily applying enough of the substance in her system to keep her hovering just above death. Gaining enough energy to speak at least, she narrowed in on the holo-form of Keeper trying to contact her.

 

“Agent. The fleet has arrived to intervene. Reports claim the Eradicators have been disabled. What’s the situation?”

 

She slowly rose to her feet, gesturing toward the caged Sith near her.

 

“Why don’t you talk to the man yourself?”

 

“Yes, I think I’ll do just that.”

 

After a brief conversation between the two of them, Jadus addressed the Agent.

 

“Tell me, Cipher 9: was your victory worth it? Hoe many lives would have sacrificed to capture me?”

 

His question shot a bullet into her heart.

 

“You were the orchestrator of this mess, not me!” she seethed.

 

“I recognized your little creed, you know. I wouldn’t have expected such crudeness from the Visteus bloodline.”

 

All at once, every single mental barrier she had ever erected around her disintegrated like they never existed. Thankfully, Vector felt the shift and held her back. Otherwise, she would have tried to punch the barrier to shreds herself.

 

“You…have no business…” she ranted. “Fouling my name…you piece of filth!”

 

“Under my control,” he continued. “The Eradicator’s purge would have destroyed the Empire’s rot. Now the Dark Council will reassert its strength. They will punish me or destroy me. Without a revolution, their cruel, pointless reign will go on. Is that really what you want?”

 

For one, small moment, one could have mistaken the agent for the Emperor.

 

“I hope you burn…” With that promise, she shoved Vector off of her and started walking away. Once her back was turned, her rage melted into the all-too-familiar despair. Before she could start crying again, though, Watcher Two appeared with a platoon of soldiers.

 

“Watcher Two here. Congratulations on the capture of the traitor.” She studied Sierra’s battered and bloodied form. “Are you ok?”

 

She chuckled dryly.

 

“Do I look all right to you, Watcher Two?”

 

“No, I guess not. You’ve been through quite a lot.”

 

After they finished talking, the Watcher announced that Agent Sinnlich was being awarded a brief leave of absence, in honor of her achievements. As she and Vector reached their ship, he noted all the destroyed equipment that was still smoldering on Sierra’s body.

 

“Agent…” He seemed to stumble over the words, as if trying to soften the blow Jadus had dealt. “We’re sorry about the damage to your equipment. We’re sure it cost quite a lot.”

 

All Sierra heard was the unspoken question. She stared at the ground for several seconds, trying to gather her thoughts.

 

“The Visteus family is revered within the Empire. We have had generations of people in all aspects of Imperial society, and whenever we didn’t, we had powerful friends who were.” Her hands started shaking. “My sister and I… We’re the next generation in the line… And…” She couldn’t take much more of this. “We’re...also the last.”

 

She felt his hand on her shoulder, and when she looked up to see his face, calmly studying her, she felt her last wall shatter. She grabbed him fiercely, embracing him like a swimmer grabs a life-ring for safety. She buried her face in his shoulder, not caring about anything else but the two of them anymore. As they stood there, letting Sierra empty herself onto him, she could feel some of her pain ebbing away. In its place, however, she felt something strange. It wasn’t the usual feeling of partnership she had felt on Alderaan, or Hutta, or the Dominator. It wasn’t even friendship. No, she could feel this feeling rise out of some pit in her soul, and she soon realized what that feeling was.

 

No.

 

With that, she broke away from his embrace, wiping the last few tears from her eyes. Looking into Vector’s eyes, it was almost impossible to tell what he was feeling. He smiled warmly, though, and she felt her body relax. Now’s not the time for that, and you know it.

 

“Sleep,” he said. “You’ll feel better then.”

 

She nodded slowly, and opened the door to their ship, and they left the destroyer ship, where Jadus’s words, as well as the civilians continued to ring clear in her mind, even as she tried to drift off into sleep a few minutes later. In between these thoughts, however, the only thing her mind could think of was his face.

 

 

Author's Notes:

 

 

This was the moment in the story when I fell in love with Sierra as a character. My hands were trembling the entire time I was fighting him, and it was the first time a DS decision made me feel slightly sick inside. Superb writing on the writers' part, and I can't get enough of it. I like observing the contrast between this confrontation and the one with Malgus I posted earlier. Great stuff.

 

[JamagsAwesome]

Comments:

 

@nervousheroA: I may or may not have spoiled myself on the Agent story some time ago. If I had, I would've read your story before reaching that part of the storyline, which I just did tonight. I then may or may not have tried to do what Sierra did, and gone for the consoles while still fighting Jadus.

 

Long story short, your story got Vector killed!

 

I just realized I'm saying "story" a lot. Story story story. Story? Story.

 

[AKHadeed]

For the over-the-head prompt. Recent! Featuring my Angharad and the other Hadeed's Zeedor. He hasn't edited it or looked at it, since he's in another state. Hope I haven't mangled it too badly. Sorry I've been in stealth mode for the past month or so. I blame summer. And work. And stuff. I hope this one isn't too terrible. I kind of threw it together in a fit of guilt from two half-written pieces of blef.

 

I don't know if it makes my absence better or worse, but I have read everything in this thread, and enjoyed it, too. Creeeeeeperrrrrr.

 

 

I was having a pretty good day. I'd spent all morning cleaning and polishing my flamethrower, which was good for my mental health and easy on the body, too. I'd had a vid on, which I'd half-watched, and it wasn't bad. I'd even been able to look at my reflection without making faces this morning, and I was feeling philosophical about my grey hairs and creaking knee. There'd been plenty of hot caf, and the ration powder turned out to be some sort of spicy soup. Zeedor's dog was sleeping on my foot, but since he wasn't chewing on my ship, I took that as a positive sign.

 

In fact, I was filled with a general sense of well-being and a vague conviction that all was right with the world. I should have been expecting a crisis, just based on experience. I was starting to vaguely wonder if I should leave the Wolf and poke around Taris a bit when my holo started beeping. I glared at it without any real venom, then reached over and slapped it on. Zeedor's lean face emitted from it. The Sith managed to look down his nose at me, even when he was a handspan high.

 

“Morning, kid,” I greeted him casually.

 

“Miss Irons. Morning's nearly passed. You are aware of that?”

 

“Hey, you said you didn't need any help,” I bristled. “I've been pup-sitting instead.”

 

Zeedor turned his head slightly, looking at something out of my view. “Yes, and I appreciate that. I thought I should inform you we'll be carrying another passenger back to Dromund Kaas.”

 

I felt my molars squeak against each other as my jaw tightened. I inhaled slowly through my nose, ignoring all the responses stampeding to the front of my brain. “I'm not running a transport, boss. The Wolf's not set up for that.”

 

“I'm not asking you to do this regularly. However, in this case...” He let his voice trail off, and I got the subtext. The boss didn't want to insist, but he probably would. And I could probably tell him no. But it'd be awkward and he'd sulk about it. I didn't think he'd do anything dramatic, but as nice as the kid was, he was a Sith. It never paid to be reckless with them. It wasn't a complicated request. There was space in the Wolf for three people and an akk dog, even if one of them seemed to require the biggest room and still spread his junk on every available surface. But on the other hand... I didn't like strangers on the Iron Wolf. Hell, I still sometimes thought of the kid as an intrusion, even though he was probably one of the most profitable clients I'd ever had. My ship, old and ugly though she might be, is mine. She fits me down to her corroded old landing struts. I might have complained a bit more, except Hargonarful started barking at Zeedor's image. I yelled at him, which only excited the dog more.

 

Zeedor must have turned his holo off as soon as the noise started. It flickered out, and I was left with a growing headache and a puppy that seemed terribly confused that Zeedor wasn't talking any more. While the akk searched the corners and under the chairs hopefully, I stalked off to my room. It wouldn't take much to set it up for another intruder. It was mostly a matter of getting into my armor, which I wanted on if I was meeting strangers anyway. Mechanically, I fastened the plates to my undersuit and plugged the jack into the implant at the base of my skull. In my suit, almost anything's manageable. In my suit, on my ship, I'm about as secure as you can get in this galaxy. I eyed my gun belt. It's almost superfluous. The grey plates and the flamethrower do most of my work in a fight. After a moment of hesitation, I strapped it on, too. Then I took a quick glance around my quarters. They'd do fine for a guest. Nothing too embarrassing or personal about them.

 

I know the kid wasn't expecting me to give up my room. He probably expected me to put up his passenger in the cargo hold. But the way I figured it, if I gave the stranger a room, I'd know where he was. I didn't like the idea of someone wandering my ship while I was behind a door. I was aware I was being paranoid, ill-tempered and neurotic, but that's normal for me anyhow. I brushed the door, feeling phantom coolness under the blastfiber. The Wolf let out a single, low whoop, and Hargonarful exploded into a frenzy. He knew it meant people approaching, and that usually signaled the boss's return. I watched the little akk as he pelted back and forth. It was kind of odd, but I'd noticed that the puppy never barked this much when it wasn't Zeedor. And the one time the proximity alarm hadn't sounded, the little dog had still thrown a fit. It was weird.

 

Handy, though. I managed to be leaning nonchalantly by the docking port before the Wolf's entry ramp had dropped. The kid swept up first, breezing by me with only the faintest nod. I returned it, then got my first good look at his guest. Imperial soldier, lieutenant, a clothes a little too big. A lot of black hair sticking out from beneath a trim uniform hat, just a bit too long for regs but not long enough to get him in trouble. Chiss, with a tendency to hunch in on himself as though trying not to be noticed. He met my eyes for the barest flicker of a second before looking down hastily. “Ma'am.” His voice was high and flutey, with a Huttese accent instead of the Imperial purr I was expecting. I didn't get much of a look at his face between the hat and the hair. He fluttered after Zeedor, babbling something about expense accounts.

 

I kind of skulked along in the wake of the men. Something about the Chiss bothered me, beyond the fact that his shiny leather boots were scuffing across my ship. I resolved to be extra surly and reclusive. I like to make goals I can keep. In fact, I decided I'd spend as much time as possible in the cargo bay, playing with my armor and possibly cleaning my guns in a pointed fashion.

 

 

Edited June 11, 2015 by AKHadeed

[Feldraeth]

Hi again,

 

Comments

 

@Bultitudines Lokes: Beziers? as in the massacre of Beziers in the 1200s, famous for the phrase "kill them all, god will know his own."?

 

@Jamangsawesome: I read through this and couldn't help smiling. Why do I suspect whatever these two plan will be hilarious to watch? Perhaps not the best laid plans, but certainly awesomely hilarious to observe. Also Chiss bounty hunters ftw.

(PS, Vector isn't a tank. you should only really use him as one if he's really annoying you and you can't use Kaliyo as a meat shield, but you probably already knew that.)

 

@NervousheroA: Uh, that was me assuming Gisselle was a pureblood. It's unusual for anyone to write about non pureblood noble families (Only Leserbias' Malicreve and Bright_Ephemera's Ruth Niral come to mind), so I just assumed. Oops.

End of an Epoch: I remember doing this for the first time with my agent, the mounting 'oh cr*p' sensation you get as soon as you board, listen to those holo-recordings and realise who it has to be. Loved the brief aside with Vector and Watcher II before the battle, it helped humanise Sierra, not that she comes across as anything other than human (as in believable, not as in species). Also, the disconnect your agent has during her sabotage: nicely done.

 

@AKHadeed: Welcome back. I enjoyed the story, especially switch from the relaxed introspection to the tense preparation for a pr1ckly reception.

 

 

 

I also have a story. Finally, a continuation on the Noctaire/Tarmin front, sort of. I'm writing the next part, but one bit (you'll probably recognise it when it's finally released) keeps kicking my arse.

 

Prompt: Life has no reset button, the droids you’re looking for

Title Life has no reset button (I originally had a different title for this, but the prompt sounds way better. Does that count as something borrowed )

Perspective: Noctaire

Word Count: 2,063

Spoilers: None

Continuity: Immediately after Finishing Up

 

 

I’d been in hyperspace for less than a minute when the jitters began. They started low, a churning in my gut, and worked its way up. My hands were shaking. It isn’t medical. I get them from time to time, typically when I’m nervous. I get it just before big jobs, like the Ziost con last week. It’s never got this bad though. That can’t be right: seeing your husband and son for the first time in three years isn’t scarier than infiltrating the heart of the empire. At least, it shouldn’t be.

 

Stars sake, I’m an admiral, honorary perhaps but an admiral nonetheless. I don’t get jittery over a guy, and especially not the man who stole our son. I-I could leave him right where he is, it’s better than he deserves. My hand hovered over the hyperspace controls. I wanted to just slap them, drop out of hyperspace and call Rogun, except I didn’t. I just told myself that. This was possibly the only way I’d be rid of him but I couldn’t. I just… couldn’t. Through him is the only way to find my son. My Anakin was aboard as well. I got up and headed down the Equinox’s slender neck. I just need to go plan something, cool my nerves and- Oh. I surveyed the carnage that was my lounge.

 

Boxes littered the lounge, filled with stuff I’d once found valuable. Used disposable plates and cutlery covered nearly every surface, with food stains on at least half of them. I’m not a messy eater, but there’s no dignified way to eat Tionese cuisine. The rugs I’d thrown down years ago were rumpled and pushed halfway up boxes, walls andthe holocomm. Wow, I’d really let the place go since I last cleaned. Just throw in a dozen felynx and I’m done: crazy cat lady, here I am. He couldn’t see this. I can’t let him see me like this, all shattered like transparisteel.

I need some help with this.

 

I padded around the arc of the ship, captain’s quarters, mess and cargo bay on my right. The refresher was on my left, as were the crew quarters. I stopped outside the locked door. It’s been years since I even opened this door: I can’t. I wavered, did I need help for this that much. I had half an hour and It was only a bit of tidying up, then cleaning, then prepping the medbay, all while meditating to smooth over the cracks in my psyche. I sighed and tapped in the unlock code.

 

The door crunched open, its servomotors tearing through the fine layer of rust that coated the hydraulics. I’d been meaning to fix the slow leak in the piston, back before everything fell apart. I guess it just slipped my mind: not all that surprising, considering everything.

 

I stepped into the dark maw of the crew quarters as the light flickered on. A soft pastel blue light softened the stark,

white walls. One time had meant to be calming, soothing. Now it just felt empty, hollow. Ugh, I hate blue.

The room was fairly sparse, just a box full of Aurabesh building blocks and dolls – sorry, action figures – over by the cot, barely used. The Corellian system dangled overhead, the Centerpoint station simulacrum holding the five planets in carefully balanced orbit. Slowly, reverentially, I crossed the room, stopping by the cot Anakin had once slept in. I could still smell him. The lump in my chest grew a parsec and I felt something slip down my cheeks. Stars, I thought I was past this bit. To think, I am nostalgic for gooey baby poo. There’ll be time later, once Tarmin is in the Kolto tank. Instead, I went for the droid.

 

Tall and modestly plump, its chassis curved in a way meant to represent the ‘ideal’ woman, according to pinups. All whites and cream, every surface was padded with a thermo-regulating epidermis. In my opinion, it looked terrifyingly inhuman, but I suppose babies aren’t too fussy about strange sights. They absolutely love clowns, after all. Reaching up, I flicked the switch at the base of its neck.

 

5U-BA or Sooba was a specialised nursing droid, complete with wet-nurse capability hidden within its chest compartment. I never planned on using it, instead giving Anakin real milk with no additives or artificial sugars, but sometimes it would’ve been necessary. On half a dozen core worlds, including Alderaan and Coruscant, it’s illegal to breastfeed in public, and only allowed in certain places if both baby and booby are hidden: sanctimonious a**holes. Oh it’s fine to show breasts to titillate but not for their intended purpose. Just goes to show that for all its freedoms and liberties, parts of the Republic can be surprisingly conservative.

 

“Mistress, it has been two years, three months and nineteen days since I was last active. How is the baby,” Sooba chirped softly but decidedly too happily. One reason why I’d deactivated it: it was so cheerful. Don’t get me wrong, I’m now fine with cheerful, but then, it grated on me.

“Still gone,” I grumbled. Okay, so I’m not the most magnanimous about what happened, I defy anyone who loves their child to be blasé about his ongoing kidnap.

“Oh no, dialling CorSec.”

 

“Override,” I snapped. And there was reason two. The last thing I want is the nanny droid calling CorSec. I have another two years before the statute of limitations runs out on that stunt I pulled for the Councillor. I certainly don’t want them to get my ship registration and present location. They hire bounty hunters for off-world, and while their guys are nowhere near as bad as the Hutts, they aren’t too gentle either. Time to set the stupid thing to work, before it made me do something I’d probably not regret.

 

“Now, I want you to go clean the ship. Focus on the medbay, then the lounge and shove any junk in the cargo hold for now,”

“As you wish, mistress,” it sniffed. Yeah I get it. You’re a wet nurse, not a maid: get over it. Reason three: the droid was snooty. The droid drifted out of my son’s room on silent repulsors. I followed it around the corner, to the medbay. At least I’d kept this area mostly clean. You never know when you need the medbay: like today, for example. This morning, I had thought the worst I’d have to worry about was the Imps trying to bust up the arms deal.

 

I left Sooba cleaning and went over to the Kolto tank. If he’s been EV for more than a few minutes, he’ll have serious decompression injuries, severe dehydration and advanced hypothermia. I’ll need it to stabilise him, and that’s assuming he’s in his battle-armour.

 

I popped open the diagnostic interface on the Kolto tank. Lights flashed up, indicating it was out of Kolto, low on cleansing agent and hadn’t run a clean in over a week. Yeah, that sounds about right. I don’t keep Kolto sitting in the tank: the stuff is expensive and has a use-by date. No, I keep it frozen in the cargo bay cooling unit until I need it. I’d need to get some about a hundred litres defrosted. Before that, I set the tank to self-cleanse. That’d take the better part of an hour, but at least it was automated. I’d seen tanks that had to be manually cleaned, had cleaned a few during my time at the University of Aldera, and they took hours to clean to an even remotely acceptable standard. I watched as the off-white foam sprayed in the top, turning the transparisteel blue.

 

Okay, so I had the tank prepping for use. All I had left was to set a batch to defrost, and then go clean the rest of the place. Either that, or sit around fretting for an hour. Joy.

 

I left Sooba cleaning and went to the cargo bay. Unlike the rest of the ship, it was pristine: clients see this part of the ship. Passing through the wide, open space, I reached the small door. It was originally an emergency safe refuge point, in case the hold seals blew, but I’d converted it into a freezer unit. I’d rigged up mag-con field generators around both entrances, so it wouldn’t be a problem.

 

Tapping the keyed code into the pad, I waited for the light to turn green before even trying to open the door. Like I said, Kolto’s expensive, and some of my clients aren’t the most reputable bunch of rebels, dissidents and privateers. If they could get their hands claws or tendrils on easily transportable frozen Kolto blocks, they’d run off with them.

 

A wall of cold slapped me through my jacket and pants as I hauled the door open. Slowly, a light flickered on, illuminating the two dozen green-grey metre high blocks. It was worth almost as much as the ship. Maybe I should bill the Jedi after all this. After all, I’ve travelled out of my way, will use expensive Kolto on one of their agents and aren’t able to do any business to recoup my losses. They wouldn’t pay: Mom would make sure of that.

 

Tapping the little repulsor sled I left in the room, it whirred to life. Years ago, I’d programmed the simple instruction to remove exactly a fifty kilograms worth of the freeze-dried blocks, and deliver them to the medbay. The simple droid brain carried out the only command it knew, using the diamond bit circular saw to cleave the right amount off. Then it trundled away, off to the medbay. I closed the door behind it. I didn’t have to oversee it, the sled would deposit the in the intake on top of the tank, where the mix was properly synthesised. Instead, I went to my room. Yeah, I know the proper term is ‘quarters’, but this wasn’t just my ship, it was my home.

 

A holovid terminal covered the upper half of the left wall. A desk with inbuilt terminal sat opposite me, holodisplay off. I’d ripped out the keyboard and installed a haptic display instead. Sure, it required specialised gloves or implants in the fingers to use, but what’s a bit more work done have over never having to deal with fiddly keybinds when cleaning.

 

The bed had seen better days. Chronically rumpled from use, the Man of Durasteel had practically faded from them. I had spares and I’d changed them recently, within the last couple of weeks anyway. Maybe I should change the sheets again. Ah, screw it: he wasn’t going near this room, even if he was healthy. It was quicker to toss the duet on the floor than fold it.

 

I dumped the Man of Durasteel cover on the bulkhead, treading on his golden faceplate as I clambered onto the bed. Cheesy I know, but I liked the vid. Rodon Juresen really made the role, and while he didn’t fill out that costume like some muscle-bound hunk, his irreverence made him sexy: not bad for a ‘washed-up, recovered stim-fiend’.

I sat on the bed, cross-legged, and let the force flow around me, just as I’d been shown all those years ago. Gee, thanks Mom: only good thing you ever did for me. I can’t use it, I’m not sensitive but I can see it. It comes across as colours and lights, maybe a phantom warmth depending on how close it gets. Slowly, I felt out around me.

 

It was warm, that was the prevailing sense I always got: warm, blue and luxuriant, like a hot bath after a long day on a harsh planet. There was also a tension, a meniscus layer between it and me, much like it always had. Reaching out, I felt my will strain against the tension, but I didn’t get any further. Like I said, I’m not force sensitive, I can just see the world the Jedi spend most their lives in. I’d felt it once before but that was a pretty-unique circumstance. It’s also how I got in all this mess.

 

Ugh, this wasn’t helping me relax. I don’t know why I even bothered. It hasn’t worked since Tarmin-, left. I got up, planting a boot on Rodon Juresen’s glowing chestplate. Stalking out, I went to go help the snooty wet-nurse clean the lounge.

 

 

Edited June 11, 2015 by Feldraeth

[frauzet]

I managed to read all your stories, even though RL kept me somewhat busy. It's great the thread is so lively again. I took some time this evening to get at least a drabble done for one of the many ideas I had for the mixed prompts. I hope you'll forgive me if I skip the comments today.

 

Title: Disgrace

Prompt: Mixed Doubles: 'Fashion' + ‘A Matter of Public Record’

Char: Iolith

Words - ~260

Spoilers - none

Takes place several years before the ingame events.

 

“My lord, you sum…” Her father’s slap interrupted her. For an instant she closed her eyes, savoring the metallic taste spreading in her mouth. Good! She had wanted to make him angry. The corners of her mouth twitched when she looked back up at him. She wanted him to know.

 

“I placed you under house arrest.”

 

“You did.”

 

“Then how do you explain this?” Her father pointed at the image on the wall mounted monitor.

 

She looked at it. On the big screen the picture of her took full effect. On it the Twi’lek by her side had wrapped a lekku around her neck. The color of his skin matched the blue of her eyes. His hands were hidden somewhere inside her dress. It had to be a Force trick; he was a Sith after all. Anyway the trick bordered on miraculous since she would have had problems to accommodate a single credit stick. The dress consisted mainly of nothing. A great amount of unreasonably overpriced nothing, mind, but still nothing. “Iolith Zairos,” the caption read, “with an as yet unknown companion.”

 

“You dishonored our house!” Trembling her father contended for his composure. “With an alien!”

 

“The surveillance system will confirm I stayed in my chambers.” She sought her father’s stare. “This picture is obviously a forgery. You know how easy such things can be manipulated.”

 

His hands balled into fists. She could hear his knuckles crack, and for a moment she thought he’d hit her again. Then she realized she had just killed a Twi’lek. She didn’t even know his name.

 

Edited June 11, 2015 by frauzet

[nervousheroA]

For Advice, I have my Imperial family of Sierra and Giselle once again. Set a year or so before my chocolate story, which makes this one first chronologically so far. With only 971 words, this is Sisterhood.

 

 

“Mom?”

 

“Yes, Sierra?”

 

The red-headed little girl looked up at her mother.

 

“When will Giselle be done with her training? She promised we’d play later today.”

 

The woman glanced out the glass patio door, thinking.

 

“Your sister should be done in a few minutes, I think. Then she needs to shower. She should be ready then.”

 

“Ok…”

 

The mother put her digital book down on the table next to her, smiling.

 

“Getting anxious, are we?”

 

“Well…” The little girl sat in the couch next to her mother, eyes falling to the floor. “She’s been out there for so long. I’m getting bored.”

 

Her mother chuckled knowingly.

 

“What about school? Have you done your assignments today?”

 

Sierra rolled her eyes.

 

“Yes, Mom. I did them hours ago…”

 

“What about your exercises? Have you been practicing what we talked about?”

 

“Xaz, Virha,” she replied immediately. “Nu laviti nuyak Tsis kais j'us uzpra.”

 

“Incredible…” she muttered wistfully. “If only your sister could learn as quickly as you…”

 

“She’s always so busy training…” Sierra muttered. “Are you sure I can’t train with her?”

 

Her mother’s eyes saddened at the question.

 

“Sierra... You know why you can’t train like her.”

 

“Can’t I at least watch her once?” she insisted. “I want to see what it’s like!”

 

“I…” Her voice faltered slightly. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea. She gets very…intense…when she’s training.”

 

“But Mom,” she replied, suddenly sounding very formal and professional as she leaned out of her couch. “Watching a Sith in action would be fantastic research for my report next week. My teacher recommended we watch Sith fighting tactics for this chapter. By watching Giselle train, I don’t have to even leave Dromund Kaas.”

 

Her mother brought a hand to her chin, thinking.

 

“You do have a point, Sierra. I’ll talk with her instructor when she’s finished.”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Now, go get changed for dinner. We’re going out tonight, remember?”

 

“Yes, Mom.”

 

As she jogged down the adjacent hallway towards her room, the patio door opened.

 

“Ah, welcome back, honey!” she called, rising from her chair. “How was it today?”

 

Giselle wiped her dark red bangs from her eyes, breathing hard.

 

“It was rough,” she replied, walking towards the kitchen to grab a glass of water. “But I did well.”

 

“I agree,” the bald overseer replied. “Her technique is improving considerably. I’m starting to gain a clearer picture of her fighting style now, though I have advised her to watch her control. She’s all too quick to launch into a frenzy with no prior thought process.”

 

“It worked, didn’t it?” she replied curtly, taking a large sip from her glass.

 

“No, it didn’t. In fact, it nearly cost you the round. You only recovered when you then regained control and became more cautious. That’s why you succeeded.”

 

Giselle sighed.

 

“I’ll try harder, overseer.”

 

“Be sure you do. Now, one more time. Defensive?”

 

“Soresu,” she replied instantly.

 

“Fast-paced?”

 

“Ataru.”

 

“Standard?”

 

“Shii-Cho.”

 

“Aggresive?”

 

“Juyo.”

 

“Dueling?”

 

“Makashi.”

 

“Hm…very good. Which one were we practicing today?”

 

“Intermediate Ataru.”

 

“What do you need to practice?”

 

“Balance,” she replied. “Keeping my center of gravity in check.”

 

“And?”

 

She sighed again.

 

“And control.”

 

“You’re advancing quickly. Just don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re not Sith yet.”

 

“Yes, overseer,” she responded, bowing. “Have a safe journey back to Korriban.”

 

“I’ll do just that.” He bowed to her mother. “My lady.”

 

“Oh, by the way…” The mother stood out of her chair. “Her younger sister, Sierra, was wondering if she could observe you two next week.”

 

“Mom!”

 

“She wants to spend more time with you, Giselle. Is that really a bad thing?”

 

“Mom, she’s just going to get in the way,” she replied. “She’s going to stare and talk continuously. She’ll be nothing but distracting.”

 

“Assuming she stands far enough back,” the overseer replied, “and she doesn’t interrupt my instruction, I don’t see any immediate reason why not.”

 

“That’ll be excellent. Thank you.”

 

“Mom!”

 

“It’s either this,” her mother replied curtly, “or I’ll have her teach you more Sith instead of your father. Your choice.”

 

She did her best to glare at her mother.

 

“Dujikri zhol.”

 

“Good,” her mother remarked. “You are practicing. But watch your language.”

 

“Yes, Mom.”

 

“My lady.” The overseer bowed, then made his way out of the apartment.

 

“Why do you have to treat your own sister like that all the time? She just wants to spend more time with you.”

 

The early-teenage girl put her hands on the counter dramatically.

 

“Mom, she follows me around like a second shadow or something. She never leaves me alone. She doesn’t shut up, like, ever. She’s always blabbering about that new thing she found on the HoloNet. All the time.”

 

“I thought that lightsaber to blaster converter was pretty cool…” her mom admitted guiltily.

 

“Mom, it’s stupid. For several crucial reasons.”

 

“And ignoring your sister like this is stupid, for several crucial reasons. You can’t use your training as an excuse anymore.”

 

“It’s not my fault that Sierra isn’t Sensitive like I—“

 

“Giselle!”

 

Her daughter hesitated at the fury in her voice.

 

“I don’t think you quite realize just how fortunate you really are,” her mother replied, pointing a finger at her. “Visteus hasn’t had a Force-Sensitive in 3, almost 4 generations. Everything we have taught you has been to remove you from the typical Sith superiority-complex, and this is how you repay us?”

 

Giselle was too stunned to respond.

 

“Furthermore, yes, Sierra is Force-blind. Completely and totally. And that’s ok. Because in the end, she is your sister, and there will come a day when you’ll want to see her again, but she’ll be gone. And you’ll be miserable.”

 

The middle-aged woman took a deep breath, switching moods in an instant.

 

“Now, I want you changed and ready to go in about 15 minutes. We’re going out tonight, remember?”

 

 

Author's Notes:

 

 

Giselle used to be incredibly hot-headed. She still kind of is, but far less so towards her friends and allies. Also, like most sibblings, she and Sierra got along about as well as you'd expect.

 

[alaurin]

GAH!! I'm so behind already!! Sorry guys, I have company incoming for my son's birthday so this is just a drive by post sneaking in a story for this week's prompt before it changes. I feel bad, but I promise I'll catch up as I can over the weekend then make comments and update the Index after they leave on Monday.

 

Title: Bittersweet Victory

Prompt: Milestones

Character: Mallayse Lauren-Trooper, Aric Jorgan, Elara Dorne, Belladonya Lauren-Smuggler

Setting: Bella’s freighter Serendipity, sometime after Strange Happenings

Spoilers: Minor Trooper spoilers through Act 3, late conversation spoiler for Aric Jorgan if you’re romancing him, I’ll say general planetary spoilers for Imp Taris.

 

Trigger Warning-mentions of blood/medical procedures, but I didn’t get too descriptive because I get a little squeamish with that stuff sometimes.

 

“Approaching the settlement now,” Bella’s voice came over the intercom, “and it’s under attack. I see a spot to touch down just outside it, but I’ll need two volunteers to man the guns because there’s no way I’m going to be able to land unseen.”

 

“I’ll take one,” Risha volunteered, not really wanting to leave the freighter when they were going into a combat zone.

 

“Yuun will take the other,” the Gand nodded, then followed the engineer out of the rec room.

 

“Risha and Yuun are on it,” Mallay informed her sister over the intercom, “The rest of us are getting ready for combat.” Then she turned to the others, “Tanno, I want you to load up on some of your special toys but use them only if needed. Aric and I’ll take point……Corso will probably want to as well. Elara hang back but be ready…..I’m sure there will be injuries. Forex, I want you to help secure the perimeter….”

 

“Yes, sir,” Forex replied with his usual unwavering enthusiasm.

 

“I’ll help,” Bowdaar barked.

 

“Thanks,” Mallay smiled at the Wookiee, “and Guss, can you be ready to assist Elara if needed?”

 

“I’ll see that the medbay is ready if needed,” the Mon Cal proposed, his large hands fidgeting a little as he went on, “I’d rather avoid being shot at if possible….”

 

“Coward,” Akaavi growled, glaring at her crew’s medic.

 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

 

The Mandalorian simply shook her head then turned to Mallay, “I will join you in combat Major.”

 

“I appreciate it Akaavi,” Mallay replied, then grabbed onto her husband as the ship gave a violent shake.

 

“Brace yourselves guys, we’ve been spotted and they’ve got the big guns out……..it's gonna be a rough ride the rest of the way!” Bella warned, flipping a switch to send more power to the ship’s shields as she prepared to bring the ship in for a landing.

 

A week ago it was discovered that some of the alien settlements on Taris had survived the Empire’s destruction and had flourished after the planet was abandoned. It had been an act of petty vengeance, a Sith Lord vowed to prevent the Republic reconstruction of Taris and he’d been successful for the most part, or so everyone thought until recently. Three settlements hadn’t been completely purged by the Imperials, a Nikto settlement, a Cathar settlement, and a mixed settlement of Nautolan, Torgota, and Twi’leks. Most of them had managed to hide in underground shelters when the Imperials swept through the area, destroying everything in their path under the command of Darth Gravus. The Empire had gone on to wipe out the Republic resettlement zone and Olaris base was decimated. Most of the civilians had escaped, but many soldiers and a few Jedi perished in those last weeks.

 

After receiving the intel from a reliable source, the SIS verified that the settlements not only existed, but had thrived once the Imperials left Taris. Unfortunately, the Empire had also found out and an enraged Darth Gravus deployed forces to finish what he’d started, swearing that he would exterminate the planet once and for all. The Republic military immediately began planning a coordinated rescue effort to get the alien refugees off Taris. Havoc Squad had been called in and as a Privateer, Bella volunteered to assist since her freighter was fast enough to make a landing under fire and had a cargo hold big enough to hold several people if needed. Mallay and Bella’s team was assigned to the Cathar settlement and after getting the coordinates from Agent Balkar, they immediately set out on their rescue mission.

 

From the rec area, they could hear the ship’s guns firing off in rapid succession and Serendipity rocked as she was hit by turret fire, but this wasn’t the first time her Captain had flown in under fire and she managed to dodge most of the blasts. A few minutes later with only a minor jolt, the sleek freighter touched down on Taris.

 

“Sorry for all the jarring movement, but I had to bank a few times to avoid the turrets until Risha and Yuun took them out,” Bella informed them as her husband stood from the copilot's seat. “We’re just a few yards outside the settlement and I’m definitely seeing a lot of blaster bolts flying through the air…...and some smoke as well.” Then she turned to Corso who was securing a rifle on his back, "Stay safe darlin'."

 

"As you wish Captain," Corso smiled then leaned down to give her a kiss before going to join the others.

 

“We’re ready,” Mallay told her sister over the intercom as the group filed out of the rec room.

 

“Unlocking the door now,” Bella replied as she keyed in the code from the cockpit, “I’m staying put and keeping Serendipity’s engines running. I'll be on the com though. If it’s alright, I’d like Risha and Yuun to stay on the guns.”

 

"That's probably for the best," Mallay agreed, pulling on her helmet as Corso joined them in the exit corridor.

 

“We’ve got Imps heading for the ship,” Risha called out, “Yuun and I will lay down some cover, but be ready.”

 

“Lock and load people,” Mallay ordered over their helmet coms, flipping the switch to charge up her assault cannon as the ramp lowered, “Let’s move out!”

 

By the time Mallay, Aric, and Corso had descended the ramp, Risha and Yuun had taken out most of the Imps coming to intercept them. Mallay and Aric let a volley of shots to take out the rest before the group marched forward. Elara stood in the doorway, ready to go if needed and Havoc’s obsessively patriotic wardroid promising to keep the perimeter of the ship free from any Imperial scum while they were away. At the outskirts, Corso and Bowdaar veered to the left while Tanno and Akaavi went right to take out any remaining Imperials and secure the two gates. Aric and Mallay entered the small village area to find much of it in ruins and a few dead on the main pathway.

 

“Let me know when you guys have the gates secured,” Mallay ordered, spotting movement from one of the prone Cathar, “Elara…...we have injuries. Forex…….make sure her route is clear.”

 

“On my way, sir,” Elara answered a moment later.

 

Seeing no Imperials around, Mallay decided to start the search, “Aric, start searching for survivors……let’s gather them here and once we have everyone, we can start leading them back to the ship.”

 

“I’ll take the north end,” Aric replied, turning towards the first house on the right.

 

Mallay headed for the house to her left, knocking on the door, “I’m Republic Spec Forces, we’re here to get you off planet.”

 

Mallay breathed a sigh of relief when the door opened and a young Cathar stepped out, “Are they gone?”

 

“For now, but there’s probably more coming,” Mallay told her, “Are there more inside?”

 

“Yes, my mother and sister,” she nodded, “Mom is wounded…..not bad though.”

 

“Can she walk or does she need assistance?”

 

“She can walk with someone to lean on.”

 

“Good. Come on out and wait at that tree over there,” Mallay instructed as she turned and pointed, seeing a family walking towards it as her husband went to another house. “As soon as we have everyone, we’ll take you to our ship.”

 

Mallay repeated the process at the next house as Aric did the same on the north side, but after knocking several times without a response, she entered to find it empty. She came back out to find her medic tending to the injured man she’d seen when they first entered the settlement. Hoping he’d survive, Mallay walked to the next house, again knocking and calling out several times with no result. This time she entered and found a young Cathar couple in the back bedroom. The very pregnant woman was curled up in the fetal position on the bed and laying in a pool of blood on the floor next to her was a man, her mate Mallay assumed. She could tell he was dead at a glance and went to see what she could do for the woman.

 

“Elara!” she called out over the com, seeing several bleeding wounds on the shaking woman’s chest, side, and leg, “I need you in here STAT! South side, third house down from where we came in.”

 

"It's bad, isn't it?" the woman murmured weakly, her yellow eyes connecting with Mallay's.

 

"It is," Mallay told her, unsure if there was anything even Elara could do to save the woman after seeing the amount of blood already staining the bed, "But my medic is one of the best I've ever seen."

 

“I think we’re going to test her skills today,” the woman gritted, clutching her extended belly as the movement inside sent pain shooting through the wounds on her side.

 

“That’s alright,” Mallay assured her, hearing footsteps in the house.

 

"What do we have, sir?" Elara asked as she entered the room. Then she saw the brown furred Cathar on the floor and frowned at her CO.

 

"I’m pretty sure he's gone," Mallay stated quietly before Elara could voice the question.

 

"Micah," the woman whimpered, fresh tears glittering in her half closed eyes, "My mate.....we were working in the fields when the Imperials came.”

 

“No vital signs,” Elara confirmed after running her scanner over the man twice, “He’s dead.”

 

"I'm so sorry ma’am," Mallay bowed her head as Elara joined her at the bed and began running scans on the woman.

 

“Sienna.......Sienna Riordan,” she swallowed, “The Imperials…...they just marched in and started firing mortars.....wanted to destroy our settlement for good. We were both hit by the first blast.....but Micah still managed to carry me here."

 

“Sir, I’ve gone through the rest of the buildings and Corso’s with me now,” Aric reported over the coms, “They’ve got both gates secure, but Corso and Bowdaar found some Imps trying to burn out a group of settlers hiding in the barn.”

 

“Give me a count,” Mallay requested, hoping her second in command had some good news as she stepped away from the bed to let Elara work.

 

“Total of eighteen dead, fifteen survivors,” Aric answered and Mallay could hear the pain in his voice as he continued, “Of the survivors, ten are wounded and three might not make it. We found a stretcher and Bowdaar and Tanno are working on getting those three back to the ship.”

 

“You, Corso, and Akaavi start taking the rest back, then come to my location……Elara’s trying to stabilize a pregnant survivor and we’ll probably need help getting her back to the ship.”

 

“We’re on it,” Aric acknowledged, “I’ll return once we get the last of this group to the ship.”

 

“Sir,” Elara spoke softly from behind after Aric’s last word and Mallay could tell by the sound of her friend’s voice that the news wasn’t good.

 

Mallay took a deep breath before turning to her medic, wishing they’d gotten to the settlement sooner, “Report.”

 

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do,” she shook her head sadly, “She’s lost too much blood and the shrapnel in her side pierced her stomach. The contents are slowly poisoning her other systems…..it’s a fatal wound. I can give her something for the pain, but I can’t save her sir.”

 

“I was afraid of that when I found her,” Mallay admitted, her heart heavy, “What about the baby?”

 

“Our options are pretty limited. I didn’t bring the portable ultra sound and I don’t recall seeing one in your sister’s med bay, but my scanner was able to detect fetal heartbeats.”

 

“Would they survive?”

 

“Without knowing how far along she is, I can’t say.”

 

Sorrow weighed heavy on both women as they went back to give Sienna the grim tidings. Mallay was never good at telling a family their loved one wouldn’t make it and luckily it had only come up once in her career. Now they had to tell the patient herself, an expecting mother that she’d never see her child. They weren’t even sure they could save the unborn baby and Mallay never hated the Imperials as much as she did at that very second.

 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Sienna murmured before either could say anything, “I’m not going to make it, am I?”

 

“No,” Mallay whispered thickly, forcing the word past the lump in her throat, “But we can make you comfortable until the end.”

 

“That’s not important to me,” Sienna groaned, a tear rolling down her furred cheek as she reached over to grasp the medic’s hand, “Please help me save my babies. I know they’re alive…….I can still feel them moving inside me.”

 

“They are,” Elara assured her, “my scanner was able to pick up fetal heartbeats. How far along are you?”

 

“I’m due in ten days…...I’m carrying three kits.”

 

“They should be fine outside the womb then,” Elara verified after consulting her datapad.

 

“Can we get her back to the ship?” Mallay asked her medic, “Is she stable enough?”

 

“I’m afraid to move her,” Elara shook her head, “and she doesn’t have long.”

 

“Please,” Sienna implored, tears running down her tawny furred cheeks, “I don’t care if I die here, there’s no one to mourn me and at least I’ll be with my mate. Please…...just do what you have to…..save my babies.”

 

“We don’t have time to induce and you’re not strong enough to give birth anyways. Our best option is a c-section, but it means further loss of blood,” Elara warned, “and I don’t have any ultrasound equipment. I’d be cutting in blind so it’ll be slow until I’m in.”

 

“I’m already dying so loss of blood means little to me…..just save them if you can.”

 

“Do you have a nerve blocker in your medikit?” Mallay asked, worried that more pain could send Sienna into shock before they could get her babies out.

 

“I do and it should be enough to numb her from the chest down,” Elara responded after searching through the leatheris case, “I’ll need you to assist sir.”

 

“Do it,” Mallay nodded, then pressed her com button, “Aric, Corso…….I’m going to need you both back here ASAP. Our patient isn’t going to make it, but Elara is going to try and deliver her babies. Guss, we’re going to have three infants coming to you…...see that the medbay is ready for them.”

 

“I still have the portable cribs here,” Bella informed her sister, “I’ll get them set up in my quarters…...but we got bad news, Yuun sliced into the Imperial feed and they’re sending in reinforcements. Going from their chatter, we’ll have incoming in roughly ten to fifteen minutes.”

 

“Thanks Bella,” Mallay replied as she held Sienna while Elara gave her a spinal injection, “Elara’s prepping now, and as soon as Aric and Corso get-”

 

“We’re here,” Aric panted as he and Corso rushed in, “We double timed it back.”

 

“Quick, see if you can find some clean towels,” Elara instructed, “and blankets too.”

 

“The room next to ours,” Sienna gasped painfully as Elara helped her roll to her back, her voice barely audible, “Is set up for the kits…...there’s blankets and diapers in there…...and some formula. Should be enough to get them by for a few days.”

 

“I got that,” Corso volunteered, easily knowing his way around baby supplies.

 

“What can I do?” Aric asked as Corso left the room.

 

“Can you note the time, gender, and name as they’re born?” Mallay answered as she handed Aric her datapad, pulling off her gloves as she went to the other side of the bed to assist her medic, “and be ready, Elara’s making the incision now…...as soon as we deliver, you and Corso need to get them back to Guss immediately so he can clean and assess them.”

 

Elara carefully began cutting along Sienna’s extended abdomen, keeping shallow while Mallay gently pulled the opening wider. It was slow going, but a few minutes later Elara’s calm voice told of her success.

 

“The incision is made and I have a visual. I’ll hold it open, Mallay can you reach in?”

 

“I have one,” Mallay called out a moment later, gently pulling a lightly furred kit out. “We’ve got a boy, brown fur…..everything looks good,” she announced as she clamped off the umbilical cord and began to suction the kit’s mouth. A second later, the infant gave a healthy squall and after running the scanner over it, Mallay held him up so his Mother could see.

 

“Micah,” Sienna smiled, “He looks just like his Father.”

 

“Micah it is,” Aric noted, admiring the woman’s courage as Mallay settled the kit next to her then reached in for another.

 

“We have a girl,” Mallay proclaimed a moment later just as Corso returned with several blankets and three full backpacks. “Yellow fur…..a little bigger than her brother and everything looks fine.” As soon as she clamped the cord, suctioned the mouth, and ran a scan, she handed mewling the little girl to her Mother.

 

“I want them to remember where they were born,” Sienna whispered, her voice barely audible as her eyes drifted shut, “We were happy here when we first came…...but Taris isn’t a good name for a girl.”

 

“How about Taryn…...or Tara?” Elara suggested, “I had a friend named Tara growing up.”

 

“I like Tara,” Sienna smiled weakly, her eyes remaining closed as Mallay reached in once more.

 

“Tara then,” Aric made the note as his mate worked to free the last kit from it’s mother’s womb.

 

“Cord is wrapped around this little one’s neck,” Mallay frowned, knowing time was of the essence as she wiggled a finger under it, carefully pulling it over the kit’s head before gently pulling it out.

 

“Is it okay?” Sienna gasped, struggling to breath.

 

“Sienna’s coding,” Elara called out as the portable monitor beeped.

 

“The baby’s fine,” Mallay lied as she frantically tried to get the tiny kit to breathe, “Another little girl.”

 

Sienna simply smiled as she took her last breath. Knowing they needed to move quickly, Elara began cutting the first cords now that the litter was delivered, then wrapped the firstborn snugly in a blanket.

 

“Come on sweetling,” Mallay pleaded as she began gentle compressions, praying to the Force for the little girl to make it while Aric and Corso watched in silence.

 

“A fighter like her Mum,” Elara smiled sadly at the bittersweet victory as the tiny girl gave a mighty cry, “Looks like her as well.”

 

“Then we should call her Sienna,” Aric suggested, making the note as Elara handed Micah to Corso.

 

“We’ve got shuttles in the distance,” Bella warned them over the coms, “Five minutes at the most!”

 

“We’ll make it,” Mallay replied as Elara handed Tara over to Aric, “Corso and Aric are on their way back now with two of the babies. Elara and I will follow with the third in a moment.”

 

“Everything is ready for them,” Bella replied, “and I’m back in the cockpit, ready to get us the hell off Taris as soon as you get here.”

 

“I’ll take Sienna now sir,” Elara volunteered, securing her medikit back in her backpack, “Can you follow with that last pack of supplies Corso gathered?”

 

“Right behind you,” Mallay replied, her eyes stinging as she gently placed a blanket over the brave woman who’d never know her children. Then she did the same for Micah, thankful he was able to get his mate to safety. Without him, all five would’ve likely perished.

 

She stood, bowing her head in respect to the couple, then turned to leave but paused as she spotted a pretty carved wooden box and a framed photo of the couple on the dresser. She walked over to it, picking up the box and opening it. It was filled with simple jewelry, some hair ornaments, and a pocket chrono. Mallay carefully tucked the box and frame into the supply pack, wanting the kids to have something of their parents.

 

~*~*~*~

 

After helping set up the cots for the survivors in the cargo hold and getting cleaned up, Aric searched for his mate and found her in Bella and Corso’s quarters, sitting in the armchair feeding little Sienna while the other two kits slept in the portable cribs Bella setup. He watched her for a moment, smiling as she hummed a familiar lullaby and he knew right then she was already becoming attached to those kits she’d helped bring into the world. He always thought she’d make a great mother whenever they decided to take the next step in their lives…...a step that had been on his mind since the moment Elara placed little Tara in his arms.

 

“I searched all Republic databases,” he finally spoke, “These little ones have no living family.”

 

“Sienna said there would be no one to mourn her,” Mallay murmured, “and these three are orphans at birth.”

 

“They don’t have to be," Aric swallowed as he took the plunge, "We always talked about adopting someday, hon…….and I’m ready to begin that next chapter of our life.”

 

“Do you mean it?” Mallay whispered, tears running unchecked down her cheeks, “Because I don’t want to leave these precious babies in an orphanage……and I’m ready too, but.....but can we? Two Spec Forces soldiers aren’t exactly top candidates to adopt.”

 

“I’ve done a little thinking about that as well,” Aric confided, “We’ve been through over these past few years….Corellia, Makeb, Oricon, Rishi, Yavin. When I first graduated from the academy, my career was everything and I thought I’d never really want to settle down, but lately…..well I’ve been missing those quiet days on the Orchard. It’s my home now Mallay…..with you.”

 

“What are you saying Aric?” Mallay let herself hope, “Do you want to leave Havoc? The military? Would you be okay with that?”

 

“I’m willing to leave Havoc, but I’d like to stay in the military and they are in the planning stages for that Spec Forces training facility on Dantooine.”

 

“Derek mentioned they finally settled on a location a few villages away from ours,” Mallay recalled.

 

“They’re going to need qualified people training the candidates,” Aric suggested, “and who better than former Havoc members. Question is, how would you feel about that?”

 

“I’ve thought about it a little since we first heard about it and I’d like a more normal life,” Mallay admitted as she leaned little Sienna against her shoulder for a burp, “It really would be nice to live at home for more than two months a year…...I just never said anything because I thought you were content to stay in Havoc. I do think I’d like to teach but are you sure that’s what you want?”

 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve enjoyed serving in Havoc and I’m sure a part of me will miss it, but I’m ready to settle down…...not be on the move all the time, both of us risking our necks. This way we would have a stable home to raise this litter…..if you want.”

 

Mallay smiled, knowing how personal it was to her husband since those kits were of his people and suddenly with the warm little infant snuggled contently in her arms, she felt like the world was right. More tears threatened, but unlike the ones earlier, these were of joy as she looked into the handsome face of the man she loved, “I’d really like that a lot…...let’s do it.”

 

“I’ll contact General Vander once we dock at Carrick,” Aric nodded, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, “He probably won’t want us to both leave Havoc at the same time, but I think he’ll be happy to have us as instructors at that facility.”

 

“I’ll talk to Elara,” Mallay suggested as she stood to place the now sleeping kit in the crib just as her brother began to mewl, “but I’m pretty sure we’d both at least qualify for a few weeks leave if the adoption goes through.”

 

“When we get home, we can call your friend from school….the one who runs the orphanage,” Aric suggested, “She’ll be able to tell us what we need to officially adopt Micah, Tara, and Sienna. With a stable home and so many family members around for support, I don’t think we’ll be denied. Until then, you and Elara delivered them and are technically their medics.”

 

“That we are,” Mallay agreed, unable to stop smiling, “and military officials as well. If I’m remembering the protocols correctly…...and Elara will know for sure, we are the ones who determine where foundlings go until they have a permanent home. Most times it’s a hospital or orphanage, but in this case I’m saying these babies can go home with us.”

 

“Then I guess we’re parents now,” Aric smiled, brushing the wet trail off her scarred cheek before kissing her gently.

 

 

Author’s Note:

 

I hope no one minds the liberties I took with post Imperial Taris.

 

Edited June 17, 2015 by alaurin

[Bultitudes_Loke]

 

Comments

 

@Bultitudes Lokes: Beziers? as in the massacre of Beziers in the 1200s, famous for the phrase "kill them all, god will know his own."?

 

 

 

 

Yeah that's the one. Only reason I can think of why autocorrect would try to make Cathar into Catholic

[Striges]

More June!

 

Week of June 12, 2015

You Were The Chosen One! Or Were You?: Game stories often cast your character as The Chosen One, the One destined to Fix All The Problems. But not every character fits that trope, and not every one should. Does yours? Or not? Emphatically not? Or maybe they are, but not in the way anyone hoped. Bringing balance to the Force by reducing its practitioners to two Dark and Two Light certainly fulfils the prophecy, but probably wasn't what Yoda expected. Where does your character fall on the Chosen One continuum? Express it in a story.

 

And, as ever,

 

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7489974post=2 and http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7489991post=3 (yes, we’re up to two full posts!). Many thanks to Alaurin for maintaining these lists.

 

This week's featured NotLPs are:

Competition - Life is full of competitions, formal and informal, friendly and unfriendly. Whether it's with siblings, neighbors, colleagues, or strangers met at the intergalactic traffic light, it's human (sentient?) nature to find something to try to be better at. Sometimes there's a clear goal, sometimes there's not. Sometimes there are rules, sometimes there aren't, sometimes there are but nobody follows them. Sometimes there's a prize at the end, and sometimes it's just about bragging rights. Write about a competition your character has participated in – or tried to avoid. Prompt courtesy of Alaurin.

 

Allies - When something huge is going down, or just when you need a hand, who can you call that you know is going to have your back? Whether it's someone completely unlikely or exactly what you'd expect, who can you ultimately always rely on?

 

 

Got an idea for a prompt? Send me a pm!

[JamagsAwesome]

Replies

 

@Feldraeth: Yeah. I had a lot of fun writing them. They’ll be in the next couple stories, and I might bring them back for something later.

 

Also, I’m aware Vector’s not a tank. I just went for the console and he was already fighting Jadus. For reference, I was playing a Sniper DPS. I find double DPS is more effective than DPS and something else. The game got a lot easier on my Slinger when I switched from Bowdaar to Risha.

 

 

 

Comments

 

@AKHadeed: Nice. I don’t have much context on these characters, but they’ve got a lot of personality to them.

 

@Feldraeth: Wow. You can really feel how run-down and neglected the ship’s become. My smuggler would be horrified.

 

@Frauzet: Oh, ouch. I love really short ones like this, because they tend to have the most impact.

 

@nervousheroA: I admire your ability to actually focus on those two, rather than hopping around between characters like I do. You’re really fleshing out their personalities.

 

@Alaurin: Ah, Taris. I hate that planet. Naturally, it’s central to the storyline I’ve got planned out for the Scruffy Legacy. Excellent, work, though.

 

 

 

Now, onto my story. More Goldy, and I’ll bring back Jol next time.

 

Title: Dramatic Entrance

Prompt: Serendipity, I guess

Characters: Goldinyn the Smuggler, Shonnoph the Trooper

Chronology: On Ord Mantell, some years after Fast Exit

Word Count: 374

 

 

Shonnoph lurched to the side as blaster fire whizzed past his ear. He probably could have planned this better. One of the Separatists guarding the door took another shot at him and he dived for a nearby cargo container. He didn’t have time for this. Wraith was probably already inside. He clutched his rifle and peered around the corner. Another bad decision. He pulled back as more shots hit the container.

 

“Is there a problem, soldier?”

 

He jumped at the voice and whirled around. A Chiss was leaning against the container, absent-mindedly flipping a credit in the air.

 

“You could say-”

 

Before Shonnoph could finish, another shot rang out. The Chiss caught his credit and peered at Shonnoph through the new hole in it.

 

“Of course you are. Otherwise, you would’ve killed those guys and gone in. But I can help.”

 

“Identify yourself.”

 

“Goldinyn, Captain of the Fast Exit, or I was until one of these motherless sons of Hutts stole it from me. You?”

 

“Sergeant Shonnoph Shianna. Havoc Squad.”

 

“For my plan to work, I’ll need someone tough. Heavily armored, at least a blaster rifle, lots of explosives, you know the type, right?”

 

“Yeah, I get the general idea,” said Shonnoph, fully realizing where he was going with this.

 

“See that Freedom Droid over there?”

 

“No, you mean the big one with the guns? Yes, I see the droid. Get to the point.”

 

“If someone, not necessarily you,”

 

Shonnoph rolled his eyes.

 

“But if someone were to distract that droid, and lead it over to the door, that someone could trick the droid into blasting a path in. Then someone else could follow.”

 

“Sounds good, get to work,” said Shonnoph, gesturing toward the droid with a badly-hidden smirk.

 

The Chiss laughed.

 

“Or, alternatively, we could just rush the guards together. Between the two of us, we should be able to take them out.”

 

“Yeah, that works better.”

 

They charged out from behind the container. Goldinyn pulled out a pair of blasters and shot two of the guards. Shonnoph blasted a third and rolled forward, hitting the other with a Pulse Cannon.

 

Goldinyn looked in the door.

 

“Bad news,” he said.

 

“What?”

 

“There’s another four guys.”

 

“Well, I guess we’re working together already.”

 

 

 

Author’s Notes

 

Goldinyn will be my Chiss Male Gunslinger when I can afford the Chiss species unlock. Shonnoph is my Mirialan Male Vanguard.

 

Goldy’s so fun to write.

 

 

[Feldraeth]

Hi, just a quick fly-by posting. I was inspired by the prompt (which is probably how I'm supposed to be doing this )

 

Comment

@Jamangsawesome: I like their plan, and its new evolution.

 

Prompt: You were the chosen one, Behind the scenes, Something borrowed

Title: Selection

Perspective: None, this is in third person.

Word Count: 480

Spoilers: None

 

For Alaurin: For ease of filing, please mark this under Caimon. Thank you for maintaining the archive. It must be exhausting but it's really helpful.

 

Something Borrowed prompt inspiration

 

Visual setup from the round table in Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)

Words and style taken from the opening of Mass Effect

Characters are all from SW:TOR (who would’ve guessed)

 

 

 

 

 

The room was a stark grey. Grey chairs, grey table, grey men in grey suits. The red of the Imperial banner was the only colour in the room. Four men lined the table, seated in neat, orderly rows. Behind them, banners flanked every other man. Beyond the table was the door, grey. Every man faced another, datapads before them, caps down over their faces. Only one seat faced away, towards the window at the far end of the spartan room. Its occupant was shrouded in darkness, watching the rain as the men stated their recommendations for the Hutta mission.

 

“What about Captain Tamm? He’s a spacer, lived aboard starships most his life,” A man noted, flicking something on his datapad. The holoprojector in the centre of the table flicked on, showing a man and his record. The others read through on their own datapads.

“He’s military. he’ll stand out among the rabble.” Another man protested, his voice thinner and reedier than the first, though still full and firm: a Ziosti undertone growling in his Kaas accent.

“Many pirates are former military. Stick a straight agent in there and they’ll stand out. This isn’t a long term placement.” A man, the first, stated factually.

 

“Can we trust him?” Another asked, his voice barely a whisper, but the synthesised buzz made it heard.

“Military family, and his wife was Sith. He’s certainly enfranchised.” A fourth noted, a Kaas sneer curling his Ziosti drawl.

“Is she in the picture? Will she be a problem?” The second man interjected

“She’s dead, sir: Killed in the last days of the war.” The woman standing behind the first man answered, her Kaas accent and perfect enunciation comparable to a droid.

 

“What has he done since?” the third asked,

“He returned to duty, ran several very successful pirate hunts. Thwarted the Diago Haxan’s invasion of Geonosis. Some might say he’s the only reason we still hold it.” The fourth mused to the second.

“So he’s a good strategist. What can he do in a fight?” The fourth asked, glancing up at the holographic image.

“The invasion occurred while his ship was on crew leave. He was on site during the initial invasion and instrumental in repelling it, including leading the assault the flagship.” The first man testified. The room was silent for several moments.

 

“Can’t question his courage: What about his stability?” The fourth asked.

“His wife died. He could have some serious emotional scars.” The third agreed.

“Psychological profile makes note of demeanour, that he remains detached in most situations, citing said bereavement. However, it also makes note of his focus and drive, especially under stress.” The woman stated.

 

“Make the call, Keeper. I have made my decision,” the last man, the one in the window seat decided. His voice quiet, every man and woman heard him, felt it slither through their ears and into their very hearts. His will was the destiny of lesser men.

 

 

Edited June 12, 2015 by Feldraeth