The Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread!

[kabeone]

*FLAILS* Brei'yu and Ipha make that list more than once!

 

I want to come baaaaack.

 

You should! You have been missed!

 

@alaurin Welcome! I laughed and cringed in equal parts with shared embarrassment at Mallay. Terrible terrible women!

 

@Lesaberisa Your Elara and Ayrs are adorable and..

No luck, Skadge was still there.

Inappropriately loud laughter, luckily no one else was around.

[marissalf]

Alaurin, Welcome! I know how it is to be shy about sharing; it took me weeks to finally work up the guts to do it. You should definitely keep writing! I really enjoyed your story, and I can relate to the whole undershirt thing. I’m still bummed that poor Vector is bundled up from head to toe underneath it all! *Eh, not that I’ve been looking or anything...

No, the girl that had been Veresia Martell had died that day on Ithaca, the echo of her was all that remained in the cramped shuttle compartment.

*Sniffles* This was really well done — the sense of loneliness and sadness and then the little bit of hope at the end. I look forward to hearing more of Veresia’s story.

[YoshiRaphElan]

Prompt - Enemies, Rivals, and Nemeses

Title - You Just Can't Win

Class - Smuggler

No spoilers

 

 

Dankin looked down at the chair, hopeless, and facepalmed. Corso, standing behind him, tilted his head in confusion, scratched at the fuzzy dreadlocks topping it, and chuckled. Dankin shot him a glare that could have pierced a cortosis-weave armor.

 

Dankin sighed.

 

"What is it?" Corso asked.

 

"My long-time rival," Dankin announced. "It follows me. Everywhere."

 

"Everywhere?"

 

Dankin nodded. "It'll disappear for a few years and turn up again. I don't know who does it, but he can't follow me through space himself, so..."

 

"Maybe it's cursed."

 

"Corso?"

 

"Hmm."

 

"Stop being a farmboy."

 

"Sorry."

 

Corso turned and left the cockpit, giggling under his hand. Dankin stayed in the cockpit a moment longer, still staring down at the pilot's chair, and facepalmed once more before leaving the cockpit, too, with the little stuffed Ewok still sitting there.

 

 

 

Based on Lieutenant Kettch, the infamous stuffed Ewok of the X-Wing novels. Too funny not to do.

 

[Tatile]

Food

Rochester and Broan

 

 

 

"Thank you," Broan looked at his plate. There was a lump of brown cake, slightly burnt around the edges and smothered in a white chocolate icing. "Did you make this yourself?"

 

Rochester sat down next to him on the couch, sinking into the broken cushions a bit before adjusting himself. They were both perched rather far forward on the old leather couch. It had once been a magnificent centrepiece of an Admiral's living room, but then it had been given to the troops, who and used and abused it into such a state of disrepair. Bits of tape kept the peeling leather of the arms down and the base of the seat was a web of bits of floorboard, tape and old uniform. No one had cared when Rochester had taken the couch for himself.

 

"Yeah, I thought it might be nice."

 

Broan took a bite of the cake. It tasted mostly of chocolate, but there was also the wispy hint of smoke - where it had burnt in the oven, no doubt. The icing was a bit too sweet and it hurt his back teeth. He swallowed and smiled.

 

"It's nice."

 

Rochester began to eat his cake and they sat in silence for a while. It was almost comfortable, if not for the vague undercurrent of tension Broan could sense. Rochester ate with a determination not usually reserved for cake. He clenched his jaw with each bite. He wanted to talk about something, but he also wanted not to talk about it and, while there was still food, the not talking was easier.

 

The cake quickly became crumbs and Rochester leant further forward, his knees touching to his chest, and put the plate on the floor. His small apartment did not have quite enough space to allow for a coffee table.

 

"Do you want to talk about it?"

 

"Talk about what?" He took Broan's empty plate and put it on top of his own. He pushed them aside with his foot. At no point did he look at Broan.

 

"Something's bothering you," Broan reached out gently touched Rochester's shoulder. "Is it what happened, still-"

 

"What am I, now?" He was still looking away, but Rochester had covered the nearest side of his face. His voice was strained and almost pleading. Broan rubbed his shoulder and went to answer. Rochester interrupted him again. "I was always supposed to be a Sith, but I could never... that was never going to happen. And then I was sent to the Academy. We were trained to be Officers, but what happened if I failed again? What if I couldn't be in charge? What if I never became the Captain, the General or the Admiral?" He ran a hand through his hair and Broan could still not see his expression. "I was scared, so I ran away and I f*cked up. When I came back to Imperial Space... when I came home, really, actually, home and that woman from Intelligence contacted me, I thought maybe I wasn't really such a worthless f*ck up."

 

"You're not worthless and you're not a f*ck up." Broan stroked Rochester's back. He was quickly wiping away tears, but they kept falling.

 

"Then why can't I do anything right?"

 

Broan sighed and squeezed Rochester's shoulder.

 

"You do lots of things right. You're a Lieutenant; you help run your ship, your crew-"

 

"I got that position because of my mum, not because of who I am. Look, I..." He sighed heavily and sagged into the couch. "I'm sorry for dumping all of this on you. You don't deserve to hear me whining."

 

"You're not whining, you're just not... in the most fantastic place right now," Broan slid closer to Rochester and wrapped him up in an embrace. "I love you and I know that you're the most-"

 

The couch gave way.

 

"I'm stuck."

 

Rochester started to laugh. Loud and deep, and with tears streaming down his face. Broan found it hard not to join in and soon they were both feebly fighting against the couch.

 

"I need to get rid of this piece of sh*t couch." Rochester was finally able to pull himself free and he helped Broan up.

 

"Yeah," Broan quickly checked his robes for any rips or tears. "You should move in with me."

 

"What?" Rochester kicked the couch and the rest of the seat collapsed. "No, yes, you're right. I should. "

 

"I mean, when you're not on duty. When you're here, in Kaas City."

 

"If you have room for me, I don't have a lot of stuff, but..."

 

"There's always room for you. My bed's huge, as well, so..." Broan chuckled nervously.

 

"Well, it's not the size, but how you use it."

 

Broan stepped up to Rochester and stroked his shoulders.

 

"I love you."

 

"Yeah," Rochester wrapped his arms around Broan's waist and kissed him. "I love you, too."

 

 

 

 

Author's Note:

 

 

And then they had lots of sex in a very tiny bed.

 

Seriously, though, it doesn't seem much of a stretch for a broken couch to turn into awkward innuendos and cuddles. Maybe

 

[marissalf]

Tatile, Yay for awkward innuendo and cuddles! I love Broan & Rochester.

 

 

Prompt: NotLP - My First

With agent Kinka, Kaliyo and Temple. Super vague spoiler in the first graph.

Note: Takes place a few weeks after Act II wraps up, before Kinka and Vector have any romantic involvement.

 

Angry droids. Duplicitous SIS agents. Rogue Sith lords. They’d faced them all, yet nothing seemed quite so fearsome as being disconnected from the holonet. The Phantom was two days out from returning to Dromund Kaas, and they were cut off with no idea when it might come back. The fixers reported sporadic disturbances throughout the region but offered no real solutions, just the frustrating advice to wait. That left Kinka and her crew dangerously unoccupied.

 

Kaliyo flopped onto the agent’s bed and crossed her arms. “Come on agent, entertain me.”

 

Kinka traded the book she’d been reading for a cup of tea on the nightstand. “You know, you could take up a hobby, something constructive like knitting or painting maybe?”

 

“I have plenty of hobbies. But you tend to yell whenever I fire my weapons on the ship. And with the doc and Bugboy off doing stars knows what in Kaas City, I’ve got no one to torment.”

 

“Except me.”

 

“Except you. So agent, tell me, who’d you give it up to?”

 

Kinka nearly choked on her stim tea. “Why would I tell you this story?”

 

“Because I’m curious and bored. Let me guess, his name was something like Derk or Jacen and you two finally consummated your chaste years’ long courtship under the stars, just like in the movies.”

 

Kinka smirked. “Actually, you’re wrong on all three counts.”

 

“Prove it. It’s story time.”

 

Denying Kaliyo was pointless. She’d just come back later, at a more inopportune time, until the question was answered to her satisfaction.

 

“Alright. His name was Orion Starfall, and-”

 

“Nope.”

 

“What?”

 

“That’s the most made up name I’ve ever heard of, and I’ve heard some real winners. Look, if you’re just going to bullsh*t me, don’t even bother.”

 

“Excuse me, sir.” Temple stood just outside the agent’s quarters, timidly peeking inside. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but did I hear you say you knew Orion Starfall?”

 

“That’s right.”

 

“Oh my stars,” the ensign gushed. “He was my first crush growing up. And you...you...”

 

“I think the phrase you’re looking for is ‘shagged his brains out,’” Kaliyo finished.

 

“Kaliyo! But yeah, that’s fairly accurate,” Kinka admitted sheepishly.

 

The Rattataki crossed her arms and frowned. “Why have I never heard of this guy? Who is he?”

 

Kinka started to speak but was interrupted by Temple’s enthusiastic recap. “Orion plays xantha for the Womprats. He’s incredibly sexy, dreamy dark eyes, tousled black hair—”

 

“And abs you could bounce a credit chip off of,” Kinka added without thinking.

 

“I never took you for a groupie, agent. Gotta say, I’m impressed.”

 

“Satisfied then?”

 

“That takes care of the who, not the rest of the story. And now we’re all rapt, so spill.”

 

Kinka looked to Temple, who had taken a seat across from them, and sighed. “Fine. You’ll get all the messy details. But this story stays between us.”

 

She looked to each of them for acknowledgement. Temple nodded enthusiastically; Kaliyo rolled her eyes and shrugged. Good enough.

 

“So, I was off Kaas for the first time—”

 

“Which planet were you on?” Kaliyo’s demand for details made it clear she still wasn’t entirely convinced the agent was telling the truth.

 

“Nar Shaddaa. I was with my parents, who had some kind of business there I wasn’t to be privy to. So I had a night to my self. I was only 17, but I looked mature for my age and had no trouble getting into the casinos. I was having a drink at one of the bars when Orion sat next to me. I remember being so nervous because he’s this huge star and I was some girl from Kaas City who’d never been in a place like that before. But he started talking to me, and flirting with me, and I started flirting back. I was completely smashed by the time I’d agreed to join him on his ship.”

 

“What were you drinking?”

 

“Kaliyo, if you’re going to keep interrupting, I’ll stop before I get to the good stuff.”

 

“It’s an important detail, agent.”

 

Kinka sighed. “I was partial to Meltdowns then.”

 

Kaliyo arched a brow. “Damn, you were a wild child. Continue.”

 

“Wait, what’s a Meltdown?” Temple was soaking every bit of the story in; Kinka half expected her to take notes.

 

“It’s like a Reactor Core, but for rich kids,” Kaliyo explained. “They take spice liquor and mix it with other stuff, and if you’re really lucky you hallucinate.”

 

Temple’s eyes widened. “And you drank those?”

 

“I was young and dumb. But they did taste really good.”

 

Kaliyo cleared her throat.

 

“But anyways, I went back to Orion’s ship and we danced, had a few more drinks and I ended up in bed with him. He was...very thorough. There were a few good times that night.”

 

“Define ‘a few.’”

 

“Three or four.”

 

“I wasn’t talking about drinks, agent.”

 

“Neither was I.”

 

Kaliyo chuckled, actually impressed, while Temple blushed and looked away. Kinka was about to make each of them take a turn oversharing when her holocommunicator chimed.

 

“Fixer 11 here. Your holonet connection should be working again, agent. Still not sure what caused the outage, but it’s fixed at any rate.”

 

“Thanks, fixer.” She looked up to say something to Temple and Kaliyo, but they had already hurried off, eager to take advantage of the restored holonet.

 

Kinka sighed and picked up her book. “And I guess that’s the end of girl time.”

 

[Tatile]

Nice one, Marissalf, always good to see the Agent out-show Kaliyo... though I do bet some of her stories involve swinging from the sky scrapers of Coruscant.

 

Yoshi, I know nothing of this plush Ewok, but is it demonically possessed? I would assume it plays host to a Sith of some sort.

Edited May 17, 2013 by Tatile

[Lesaberisa]

Two things I've learned from this thread

 

(1) Never read stories with the food prompt when you're waiting for lunchtime

(2) I realllllllly need to play my Sith Warrior and Agent more

 

Anyway, couple of short pieces, since I am stuck in the office.

 

Character: Malicineve (Sith Warrior) Think "crazy pureblood Sith Princess"

Prompt: My First/Good Memories

Warning/Trigger: Unpleasantness/implied violence

 

 

"I will always remember my first time. He was a strapping young human, perhaps twenty years at most, from some colony world that had been conquered during the war and was only now providing us with the slave labor to advance the Empire still further. He had been a member of the resistance and thought that made him worthy of respect.

 

He was attractive enough - for a human of course - and I knew then that I could have no other to before him. I had him brought forth to my villa. He refused me at first, claiming his loyalties could not be swayed, that he would remain true. With the power of the Force, I did more than sway them. He begged me for release, to stop toying with him, but I knew what I wanted and I had my way with him.

 

I did not manage to acquire any information on his unit, but I will never forget his screams as my blade performed its surgery, the beautiful symphony in my ears. You see, Vette, you can only truly know someone when you have them at your mercy, when they have been broken in every way possible. When you can reach inside their head and pluck their very thoughts from their mind. They have no secrets, no place to hide.

 

So sad he only lasted those ten minutes, but I shall never forget them."

 

I opened my eyes, licking my lips and savoring the memory.

 

The Twi'lek, proving her inability to understand anything yet again, merely looked horrified. I activated the shock collar and drifted off to a pleasant sleep.

 

 

 

Character: Amitia (Knight)

Prompt: Guilty pleasures

 

 

It wasn't easy keeping up with my favorite holo-show while travelling across the galaxy, even harder when the other fan of it onboard was a centuries-old Sith who didn't understand that the best time to discuss the latest episode was not while it was still playing on the screen in front of you. Still, I couldn't deny that I looked forward to our weekly rendevouz, always taking place after everyone was asleep.

 

Previously on Game of Sith....

 

"I must admit, it still surprises me that this program is as popular as it is in the Republic," he began, even as I grit my teeth in barely restrained frustration. "Between the violence, sex scenes and implication that a certain moral equivalence exists between the side clearly modeled after the Republic and its Imperial counterpart, it would seem likely to upset the average viewer."

 

I rolled my eyes. "Of course it's popular, it's a crossover hit. They're telling human stories in a fantasy world."

 

He considered that for a moment, even as I saw someone brutally beheaded out of the corner of my eye. "I can see that, but it still defies belief that the Republic's leadership would allow this sort of morale-damaging program to continue, entertaining though it may be. The entire premise is one you would expect from an Imperial, even a Sith."

 

I glared at him, refusing to look away when he turned those piercing eyes at me or to take in the multiple krayt dragons burning slavers on screen. "Try reading the books, if you want to understand it more."

 

Scourge had just begun to form a response when an unwelcome mustache, I mean face, appeared in the doorway.

 

"Hey Gorgeous," Doc began, turning the compliment into an insult by virtue of it coming from his lips. "Mind if I join you?"

 

"Go away Doc!"

 

I wasn't sure what surprised Doc more, the force with which I had said it, or the fact Scourge had matched it.

 

Edited May 17, 2013 by Lesaberisa

[YoshiRaphElan]

Yoshi, I know nothing of this plush Ewok, but is it demonically possessed? I would assume it plays host to a Sith of some sort.

 

Actually, it was a prank amongst the squadron, where they'd pass the stuffed Ewok to various odd places, like a cargo compartment, a simulator's cockpit, etc. As far as I know, it was not possessed–just used for a series of immature pranks.

[Striges]

Well, so much for not procrastinating. Incoming wall o’ replies, cleverly disguised with spoiler tags:

 

 

@ Kabe: The smuggler’s adventures in the separatists’ bunker sold me on the class as well. So glad you enjoyed it too.

 

Congratulations on putting stats in fic. Quinn would be the one computing his odds of getting hit to the nearest tenth. Though he did have help in the SFC bar . Smartly done.

 

@ Bright: Tauntauns, the original all-terrain vehicle. Nalenne’s and Vierce’s reactions are priceless. And the S.A.B.E.R. To borrow a great line from S.H.E.I.L.D: I think someone really wanted the letters of the name to spell out “saber”.

 

OMG Stats! Wow, Varrel made “shortest story” and “earliest episode” both. We ought to have permanent links to all of the various stat posts. They’re great. I hereby nominate Bright as the thread’s honorary Quinn, both for compulsive record-keeping and number crunching as well as infatuation with the Sith Warrior (please don’t hurt me).

 

You missed one stat: this is the only thread in the Fanfiction forum with an official Bioware post in it. A very nice post, too.

 

@ Icerose: Interesting exploration of Miraluka force sight, both the advantages and limitations.

 

@ Lesaberisa: Trooper stopped dead by paperwork and saved by the ship droid, and Jedi on the bus. I enjoyed a look at the more prosaic moments in your character’s adventures.

 

The later trio: Vular, so close to vulgar. Nice. Hilarious intro for your BH; yes, sadly, Skadge is still there. I really enjoyed Elara and Ayrs’ interaction.

 

Vette will not be happy traveling with Malicineve, and after that story I feel bad for her. Game of Sith as a Republic holodrama--brilliant. A true guilty pleasure for a Jedi.

 

@Magdalane: I can sympathize with Corso, worrying about Miriah on the souped-up speeder. Even without the explosion. My son is just now learning to ride a bicycle. I’m going to be a wreck when he actually learns how to drive.

 

@ Marrisalf: Two more funny stories. I have to agree with Rissia--thranta look horribly uncomfortable as transportation. (Especially when your character gets out of sync with the animation--ouch!)

 

Hooray for showing up Kaliyo. With drinks and other things.

 

@ Tatile: oh, poor Rochester. Have to admire his ambition, though, as well as knowing when to abandon a recipe as a lost cause for his skill level. At least while the kitchen was still salvageable.

 

Though it seems the couch was not .

 

@ Irish: Gelt had to hurt, torn between playing politics and concern for Rylee.

 

@ YoshiRalphElan: In this forum, who hasn’t whacked someone with a plastic lightsaber? Silliness aside, lovely story. Jasin seems so gracious, even with the awkwardness of seeing your likeness on a huge parade float.

 

I love the idea of a juvenile prank following the one of the juveniles long after everyone goes their separate ways. Makes me wonder where it came from and how it managed to get attached to Dankin.

 

@ Selentar: Color and accessories, the most important decisions in a vehicle purchase. I can see it taking place in a speeder showroom. Dark lighting, a spot focused on the nice speeder, salespeople drawing lots in the break room for who has to help the Sith and either get electrocuted or a huge commission...

 

 

A separate special welcome to alaurin! Your piece was fun to read. Mallay’s awkwardness and hesitation came through well, and I liked the amount of planning that went into something so trivial. I did not expect it to backfire. Congratulations on de-lurking, and please keep writing if you enjoy it!

[marissalf]

You see, Vette, you can only truly know someone when you have them at your mercy, when they have been broken in every way possible.

 

Malicineve is all kinds of dark, and you conveyed that really well. I would not want to cross paths with her! Also, Game of Sith

 

Now for a couple stories from Kinka’s world. The first one is a Loneliness & Solitude that takes place shortly before the agent arrives on Taris. Spoilers for Act I & II. About 1,000 words.

 

Kinka couldn’t sleep. She’d stared at the ceiling for five hours and hadn’t felt the least bit drowsy. This game had long since worn out its welcome. Each night she’d shuffle off to bed and stare at the ceiling, waiting. For what? A solution that would never come. It had been this way for weeks, this relentless cycle of panic and helplessness. She couldn’t get Watcher X’s voice out of her mind. He was probably halfway across the galaxy by now, yet he was talking to her as if he were standing right in front of her. But as bad as the hallucinations had been, his voice was the least worrisome thing happening in her head.

 

I can’t resist them. I’m completely at their mercy, these people who I don’t know and certainly don’t trust. But then, I’m in this situation because of the people I did trust, so I’m not sure if I’m better or worse off.

 

Kinka sat up and kicked the blankets off of her bare legs. She was suddenly sweating.

 

Who am I kidding? I don’t have control of my mind; I am worse off. And there’s no telling what these people will have me do. Who they’ll make me hurt. Her thoughts turned to Vector and Kaliyo, oblivious to all of it. I can’t even warn them if they order me to hurt them.

 

She shuddered and jumped out of bed. Maybe some kind of activity would distract her long enough to bring a little peace. Maybe if she was really lucky, she’d drift off for a while before jolting awake from the nightmares. She’d told Ardun Kothe that Darth Jadus’ re-emergence had emotionally traumatized her. The funny thing was, it wasn’t entirely the lie her handlers believed it to be. She had been shaken by Jadus’ reappearance, and his face in her dreams had jolted her awake more than a few times. And now she got to add Kothe to her growing list of tormentors.

 

Kinka padded lightly out of her quarters, careful not to disturb her crew mates. (Their quarters were far enough away that it wasn’t too much of a worry, but she didn’t want to rouse 2V, who seemed to be on a motion sensor with no regard to time of day. And she’d only just talked Kaliyo out of smashing him the last time he went off in the middle of the night.)

 

The ship was lonely at this hour, but then, Kinka had always found space to be lonely and sad. So much void, too much quiet. She briefly thought of perusing the holonet when the sound of a soft humming from the cargo bay caught her attention.

 

She tiptoed past 2V and crept to the back of the ship where Vector was now silent. She hadn’t realized he’d be up so late. The tall, graceful man turned and smiled at the agent as he heard her quiet steps behind him. It wasn’t hard to see why he’d been an effective diplomat; his charm and grace were apparent even after the changes that had come with joining the killiks. Kinka had certainly been charmed from their first meeting, moreso than expected after Watcher Two’s debriefing when she’d landed on Alderaan.

 

“Vector, do you have a moment?”

 

He’d only known her for a couple months, but already he felt as though he’d do anything for her. “Of course. What can we do for you?”

 

Kinka sat on a crate in the corner, her face drawn and eyebrows scrunched together. She had been thoughtful a lot lately, he’d noticed, her aura muddied and unfocused. Vector sat patiently beside her as she seemingly struggled for words. As time passed in silence, she grew visibly upset, her eyes welling with tears that he didn’t understand. But he could read her aura, and it troubled him to see her in such pain.

 

“I’m sorry, I just, I need a second.”

 

He didn’t know what motivated him to do so, but Vector found himself reaching out to take the agent’s hand. She looked up at him, eyes still teary, and he was uncertain whether he’d made a mistake. It had been a long time since he’d needed to comfort someone, longer still since he’d felt the stirrings of affection for another human being.

 

But then the corners of her mouth ticked up, just slightly, and he felt at ease. “Thank you, Vector. I’ve...had a lot on my mind lately.”

 

“We had noticed. This assignment cannot be easy for you, agent. We understand how it must feel to lose yourself in a mission. Before we became Dawn Herald, we were once on such a mission. Now we have the hive.”

 

She frowned. If you only knew, she thought. But then it dawned on her. “You do know what that’s like, don’t you, Vector?” Her voice was more animated now, her aura slightly brighter and more focused. “I wanted to ask you, what was it like to become linked to the hive? What did it feel like?”

 

“We aren’t sure we know what you mean, agent.”

 

Kinka sighed, frustrated that she couldn’t say what she really wanted to say, and hopeful that he didn’t think those frustrations were aimed at him. “I mean, did you feel like you were losing yourself? Out of control? What are your memories of it?”

 

“We do not remember those kinds of feelings. We recall a sense of uncertainty and then peace as we began to hear the voices of the Song. It is all we have known since.”

 

Kinka nodded, her disappointment apparent.

 

“Agent? May we ask something of you?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Why do you ask about our joining? Is there something you would like to tell us?”

 

The worried look overcame the agent again.

 

Yes! Yes, I’m being controlled against my will! Please help me! Someone has to help me!

 

But no matter how much Kinka fought against the mental restraints, she couldn’t make the words come out. She fought back tears and smoothed her robe as she stood to go. “No. I’m fine, Vector. Thank you.”

 

Vector frowned as he watched her retreat quietly to her quarters. Something was wrong. He didn’t know what had the agent so troubled, but he knew that everything was far from fine.

 

NotLP: What If

This is an alt universe version of the above story. Same night, much different outcome. About 1,100 words.

Warning: Spoilers for IA’s Act II. Also, violence.

 

“Keyword: Onomatophobia.”

 

Kinka’s eyes flicked open at the sound of Ardun Kothe’s voice in her head. No. No, no, no, no, no!

 

“It’s time, Legate. You know what you have to do.”

 

No! Kinka screamed and struggled against the mental restraints, while silently kicking the sheets off her bare legs and hopping out of bed. She threw on her robe and concealed a vibroknife at her hip. Then quietly she padded out of her quarters, careful not to make a sound and rouse 2V, who would wake the whole ship if he sensed her presence. Silence was of the highest priority. If she woke them, there’d be a fight.

 

No! Stop this. You can stop this. Focus, please!

 

She tiptoed past 2V and back to the crew quarters. Kaliyo was passed out drunk in her bed, but Vector wasn’t in his bunk. That was good. If nothing else, it might buy him time. One death might be enough for them. She had little expectation that that would actually be the case, but it was enough to have the hope.

 

The blade felt unnaturally heavy in Kinka’s trembling hand. She’d killed so many people before; it was nothing. But she’d never done it while someone slept, never killed someone she considered a friend. It seemed wrong for Kaliyo’s life to end this way; going out without a fight was the ultimate indignity for such a volatile soul. Kinka watched as Kaliyo’s chest rose and fell with her last breaths, then leaned in close to slide the blade across her throat in one clean motion. She never made a sound.

 

Kinka waited for Kothe’s voice to tell her she’d done enough. That she’d proven herself by killing Kaliyo. That Vector’s death wasn’t necessary. The voice was silent.

 

“Agent?”

 

Kinka stood in the doorway of the cargo bay and stared up at him, her expression blank but eyes pleading. Run! Use the escape pod. Just don’t stand there in front of me and make me do this to you. Not you. Anybody but you.

 

“I’m sorry, Vector.”

 

“You’re not disturbing us. We were just gathering our thoughts.” His eyes scanned her face with a hint of concern, and Kinka was hopeful that he’d sensed something wasn’t right. But his expression softened, and he smiled at her as if nothing was wrong at all.

 

“We’re glad you’re here,” he said, motioning for her to sit with him. “We had something we wanted to tell you.”

 

“Go head,” she said, taking a seat beside him on one of the crates.

 

“Agent, we have grown very fond of you over the past few months. And at the risk of perhaps becoming too familiar with our superior, we wanted to know where our relationship stood.”

 

“Our relationship?” Please don’t let this be happening now.

 

“We have started to feel things we haven’t felt in a long time. You have awakened a part of us that has long been buried.” His face was expectant, hopeful. Kinka wished the brain damage would just kill her then, save them both from what was coming.

 

“Oh Vector.”

"You’re stalling, Legate."

 

No.

 

Kinka pulled him close and pressed her lips against his. He was warm, cautious, a little unsure of himself. But he quickly gained his footing. The agent pushed him further, pulling at the buttons of his coat while moving them both toward her bedroom.

 

“Agent, we-”

 

“Don’t talk. Just make love to me.”

 

She slipped out of her robe and quickly helped him undress. Why is this happening to me? It wasn’t supposed to be like this. But she knew every minute she was with him was another minute he got to live. Another chance that Kothe might relent.

 

She pulled Vector into bed with her, and he began to trace the contours of her body with kisses that grew more passionate with each second. The warmth of his lips against her flesh brought comfort, a distraction, and she clutched him greedily as he moved above her. This was everything they’d wanted, but at the worst possible time.

When their energy was spent and they collapsed in each other’s arms, Kinka felt hot angry tears streaming down her cheeks.

 

Vector held her close and kissed her forehead. “Agent, we love you.”

 

She wanted to say it back, would have given her life to get the words out, but incoherent sobbing was all she could manage. As Vector held her tighter to try to comfort her, she reached behind him for the blade she kept hidden beneath a pillow and slid it between his ribs. His face registered with shock and pain before his body went slack and his arms gave up the embrace.

 

“I’m so sorry,” she choked between sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

 

She stumbled out of her room and over to the holoterminal, half-naked, hands covered in blood, eyes red from crying. “Come in, damn you!” She kicked the terminal in frustration just as Kothe’s fuzzy image appeared before her.

 

“Yes, Legate?”

 

“The job’s done, you bastard.” She was shaking from head to foot, her fists clenched at her sides, as if that were the only thing holding the jagged pieces of her life together.

 

“You did well. They were necessary casualt-”

 

“They had names, Kothe. Vector and Kaliyo. They had names and lives and futures. And both of them were innocent. There was no need to make me kill them. You did this out of cruelty.”

 

“I did this to protect my mission and my people. They were a liability. Look, I know you were close to them-”

 

“You know nothing about my relationships with them. That man,” she said, voice wavering, “was the sweetest human being I’ve ever met. He was better than a thousand of you or me. And you made me put a knife in his chest not two minutes after he told me he loved me. You took away a whole future for nothing. Look at my face, Kothe, and understand this. I will kill you. I will kill your team, your family, anyone you ever felt the slightest tremor of affection for. They will die in as much agony as I can fathom, and I’m the daughter of a Sith lord. My capacity for cruelty is boundless. And after they’re all dead and you feel like you’re broken beyond what a human being can possibly bear, I’ll come for you. But know this: for Vector, I would have been merciful. I would have spared you all, forgiven every indignity this brainwashing has wrought. We would have parted ways without an ounce of violence. But you killed your lifeline. And I have no reason for mercy anymore. Legate out.”

 

 

Edited May 19, 2013 by marissalf
Gah! Because I can't spell : /

[Striges]

Prompt: Planes, Trains, and Thrantamobiles

 

Characters: Jesp Rixik and Andalar, both bounty hunters

 

Title: All’s Well

 

I’ve had this bit lying around pretty much since I picked up after Kirya hired Andalar. Unfortunately, I’ve also gotten too much into Cleaner and I don’t know quite when I’ll get around to filling in the intervening parts. Rather than leave everyone in eternal suspense, and at the risk of spoilering the incomplete sections, the I’ve decided to go ahead and post it. That and the prompt reminded me I still had it.

 

The story up to this point:

An Awkward Reunion (Kirya runs into Rixik for the first time since their breakup)

Sure, I Know A Guy (Kirya hires Andalar to deal with Rixik)

Wisdom, Justice (Kirya alters the contract’s terms)

Economics 101 (Rixik tries to buy off Andalar’s contract and fails)

Taking Out the Trash (Rixik sends Skadge after Andalar)

As Time Goes By, last two sections only. (Andalar researches his target, occurring between Justice and Economics 101, and Rixik checks Skadge’s progress, occurring after Taking out the Trash)

 

 

Thanks to Kabe for keeping up the index. The catchup pieces have some spoilers for various class stories, these are all noted in the individual entries. Now to skip over all the rest of the story and go right to the conclusion.

 

This piece has no class story spoilers.

 

 

The slab’s indicators went from the cold blue of stable to warning yellow, then red. A whistle and a whine echoed in the dark chamber. Silvery carbonite shimmered, warmed, melted, ran in rivulets toward the floor. Evaporated before it had a chance to puddle. Released the being within.

 

Rixik fell to the floor, shivering uncontrollably. He fumbled for the mini-hypospray unit he’d taped to his arm before engaging Greyson. His blind hands triggered it, sending a nice jolt of medical-grade andris spice straight into his thawing bloodstream. His lips pressed into a grim smile. Not many people remembered the original use of andris was ameliorating the effects of carbon-sleep. The crowning irony was that he’d lost two years of his life grubbing this stuff out of the ground for the Empire. Now it would set him free.

 

He coughed once and felt for the second unit, a stimpack with industrial-strength wakeup juice. He depressed the activator and heard the soft hiss as it discharged its payload. He blinked several times. The andris was already doing its work. The dark grey blur before his eyes was resolving. He could almost see the grid pattern in the durasteel deckplates and hear the low bass rumble of hyperdrive engines, confirming the tactile messages his hands sent to his slowly-waking brain.

 

He was on a ship. Kirya’s probably. Andalar wouldn’t have sold him to anyone else. She wouldn’t have had time to sell him on, not yet. Minimal lighting. Probably in the cargo bay. Cargo didn’t need to see and Kirya wasn’t the type to put him on display in the foyer. He checked his chrono, an especially expensive one that would keep running even in cryogenic temperatures. One that would spike the slab’s simple brain. He had to tap the auditory function, still couldn’t make out the numbers. The soft computer voice gave him the date and time.

 

“You know, most guys don’t have the nerve to wait two weeks to unfreeze themselves, Rixik,” he heard a male voice say, “I almost gave up.”

 

Rixik’s head snapped up at the sound. His bleary eyes barely made out an armored figure, tall, built like a load-lifter, familiar voice, familiar voice...

 

Greyson.

 

“Ittu--” he swore.

 

Andalar’s carbon stream cut off his invective, sending him back into suspended animation. “Thanks for being as clever as I thought,” he said. He had the cargo droid lift the silver Twi’lek statue into the carbonite chamber to complete the freezing process and headed back to the bridge. The itch in the back of his mind, the one that had been there since he froze Rixik the first time, was gone. Finally. He was beginning to think he was getting paranoid. Now he could meet with Kirya and settle up, conscience clear.

 

[alaurin]

Thank you all for your kind welcome!! It was a fun, silly piece for me to write. I actually have another piece to share since no one seemed horrified by my first attempt, but I need to catch up on comments first. Since there are so many, I will take Stirges' example and use a spoiler tag.

 

 

 

@Lesaberisa, I loved your trio...especially:

 

No luck, Skadge was still there.

 

My feelings exactly!

 

@ Bright, loved the tauntaun pieces....many giggles!

@alaurin, welcome to the thread! Corso and Jorgan are a logical pair for an alliance when the Smuggler and Trooper are a) related, b) female and c) trouble.

Thank you and I couldn't agree more! Bella and Mallay are good for trouble that is for sure.

 

@ Kabeone:

@alaurin Welcome! I laughed and cringed in equal parts with shared embarrassment at Mallay. Terrible terrible women!

Thanks! I was hoping her embarrassment/awkwardness would come through ok. I can relate to her well.

 

@YoshiRaphElan, loved the stuffed Ewok. I giggled when I read it.

 

@Marissalf, thanks for your kind welcome and I agree, Vector needs to lose the undershirt as well! I loved the girl talk with Kinka, Kaliyo, and Temple. Nice description of Orion's abs!

 

@Tatile, awkward innuendos and cuddles are always good!

 

@Stirges: I was glad to see more Rixik. I have been wondering what happened to him!

A separate special welcome to alaurin! Your piece was fun to read. Mallay’s awkwardness and hesitation came through well, and I liked the amount of planning that went into something so trivial. I did not expect it to backfire. Congratulations on de-lurking, and please keep writing if you enjoy it!

Thank you! I have had thoughts of de-lurking for a while, but was too shy to share....kind of like Mallay! This was an important mission and required extensive planning, the girls needed their eye candy! Unfortunately, they didn't plan for Corso to bust them!

 

 

 

Title: Wardrobe Malfunction

Prompt: Tools of the Trade

Characters: Mallayse-Trooper, and companions

Setting: Tatooine and BT Thunderclap

Spoilers: Trooper Tatooine, and a reference to Trooper Nar Shaddaa

 

It is a longer entry for me and you may find a wee bit of sexual tension/innuendos.

 

 

 

They had just finished their mission on Tatooine, happy to have stopped Fuse’s bomb designs from getting to the Empire, sad that Fuse had to sacrifice his life for that to happen. Mallay wondered, not for the first time, if Fuse had really wanted to go to the Empire or if he did it out of loyalty to his squad mates. She was truly sorry that she was unable to save him in the end and it would haunt her for some time. As they headed into the spaceport, they were stopped by a man named Galen telling them a sandstorm was coming and that all ships were grounded. She volunteered to help round anyone up and her squad followed her. When the storm was over, Mallay found out that some areas around Anchorhead would need some assistance and agreed to help since flights were going to be grounded for a little while longer. Dorne asked if she could stay behind to see if there was anything she could do for the wounded, so Mallay set off with Jorgan and Forex.

 

They spent the next few hours helping where they could, and finally were heading back to Anchorhead. Forex had gone earlier, volunteering to escort a newly widowed woman and her children. Their destination was just in sight when another sandstorm hit. Mallay and Jorgan got to shelter as quickly as they could, but had been blasted with sand in the few minutes they were exposed. Luckily, this storm was short and not nearly as bad as the first one. When they got to the spaceport, they found out some sensors had been damaged again and ships wouldn’t be able to take off for a little while. Mallay arranged for their speeders to be cleaned out and delivered to the ship, tipping well to make sure it was taken care of ASAP.

 

“I don’t think I have ever been so happy to leave a planet before,” Mallay sighed as she and Jorgan finally made their way back to the ship.

 

“Me either,” Jorgan grumbled, “I think I have enough sand stuck in my fur to cover a small planet and it is starting to itch like mad! Not to mention the fraking heat!” He looked over at her as she laughed, noticing damp auburn locks sticking to her face and neck. Having that much hair on her head couldn’t have been comfortable in this heat, even if it was coiled up in a bun.

 

“Yeah, I could have done without getting caught in that second sandstorm. I can just feel the sand grating against my skin, especially on my back where the scars are. I can’t imagine what that would feel like with fur.”

 

When they got on board, they found Forex in the cargo area. “Did you get that family back ok, Forex?” Mallay asked.

 

“Affirmative sir!” he replied with his usual enthusiasm, “However, I was caught on the storm on my way back and will require assistance cleaning the sand out of my joints and gears.”

 

“Let me take care of debriefing Garza, then I will get you cleaned up. Jorgan, hit the shower, you are making me miserable just looking at you!” Mallay ordered, her deep blue eyes looking at him in sympathy. He looked like the heat and sand were really getting to him.

 

“Thanks sir!” he smiled, looking relieved and headed off to the crew quarters. Mallay was headed to the ship’s holo when Dorne stopped her.

 

“Great news sir,” she started, “Remember that housing complex that was bombed when we first arrived? Well, it turns out, there was a small medical facility next to it that took damage as well. The sandstorm furthered the damage and it is going to have to be rebuilt and new equipment ordered.”

 

“That is good news?!” Mallay asked, shocked that her medic would think so.

 

“Well, no, that isn’t good news.” She replied, “However, the building was set to be updated anyways so they are prepared. The good news is that they have some equipment that they have no place to store and no need for since newer equipment is already on its way. This equipment includes a kolto tank! I found this all out while I was helping with the wounded earlier. I asked if we could purchase it from them and they said it wouldn’t be a problem.”

 

“That is fantastic news, Elara! What are you waiting for? I will sign whatever you need….just make it happen!” Mallay ordered. She never understood why the ship didn’t have one already. Luckily, they hadn’t needed one yet, but with the things they were doing, it was only a matter of time.

 

Dorne handed her a datapad for her signature, which she quickly signed. “Thank you, sir! I will head out immediately and get it taken care of. I already took the liberty of rearranging the med bay to make room. I figured you would want it.”

 

Mallay went to the holo to make her report to Garza. It was brief, Garza being happy the bomb designs were recovered, but disappointed that Fuze hadn’t been taken in alive. Mallay made sure that Garza understood that Fuze sacrificed himself so that Havoc could get the bomb plans. He really had done the right thing in the end. After signing off, Mallay could hear that Jorgan was still in the refresher and made her way back to the cargo area to help Forex get cleaned out. She had gotten all of the supplies together and was about to get started when she heard the holo chime.

 

“Go ahead and get powered down while I get this, Forex. I will get started as soon as I get back.” Mallay told the droid as she made her way to the holo. It was Dorne letting her know that the kolto tank was theirs, but it would be a couple of hours before it would be able to be delivered to the ship. She asked to stay with the understaffed medical team to help out where she could and return with the tank. Mallay gave her permission to do that and signed off. She glanced at the refresher to see the door closed still. Stars, I hope he hurries up in there! This sand is starting to really irritate! She headed back to the cargo area to see Forex powered down and quickly got to work cleaning him out.

 

After about an hour, Forex was clean and freshly oiled. The cargo area was going to need a scrubbing and she was filthier than ever. She felt like her scars were being rubbed raw from the sand that had made its way into her armor. She decided that if Jorgan was still in the ‘fresher, she would go in there and kick him out, no matter that her small frame barely reached his shoulder. Her face heated at the thought of what she might see if she decided to do just that. However, as she made her way up to main area of the ship, she spotted a much cleaner, happier Jorgan heading to the weapon’s room.

 

“Hey, sorry I took so long in there….blasted sand was stuck everywhere. It took forever to get it out of my fur. I was just about to clean out our cannons. I know mine is full of sand and I assume yours is as well.”

 

“Yeah it is, thanks for taking care if it for me. Forex is all clean and Elara got us a kolto tank and will arrive with it in about an hour,” she told him, “I am glad you are feeling better, you look like it. Now, I need to get this sand off of me before my scars are rubbed raw and bleeding!”

 

“Why didn’t you say anything, sir?!” he asked, “You could have went before me!”

 

“It’s fine, I had to report to Garza, then Elara told me about the kolto tank that was available to purchase and I signed off on it, and Forex needed cleaning,” she assured him, “I should be fine. I will have Elara take a look at my back and treat it if needed when she gets back. I just really need to get this sand off!” With that, she headed to her quarters to finally get out of her gear.

 

Unfortunately, getting undressed proved to be harder than she thought. The sand was ground in to her armor, making the buckles extremely difficult to unfasten. She managed to get her boots, gloves, and leg plates off, but she couldn’t get her torso piece unbuckled. She was going to need help and unfortunately her choice was limited to just one person at the moment. Ok Mallay, you have two choices here, you either wait an hour for Elara to get back, or you suck it up and ask Aric to help you get undressed. She blushed at that thought. She was always a bit shy about her body and self-conscious about the burn scars on the left side of her face and back. Her sister Bella would think nothing of prancing around in skimpy underwear, but she was a bit more modest than that. Also, she was starting feel attracted to Aric, he was a good looking man after all, which made her feel even more shy about asking him to help get her armor off. So far hadn’t been reduced to a stammering, blushing idiot with him as she has been in the past when attracted to a man, but this might change that. No matter, her armor needed to come off so she could shower or her scars would be bleeding from being rubbed raw with sand. She was going to need his help even if it meant some embarrassment on her part.

 

Mallay found Jorgan cleaning his cannon in the weapon’s room. “Sargent, I…uh…I, umm….well, I have a problem and I really need your help,” she stammered. She could feel her face heat up.

 

“Oh, this must be good, you face is getting red and you called me ‘Sargent’.” He replied looking amused, “Out with it, what do you need me to do?”

 

“I can’t get my armor off. The fasteners are jammed up with sand. Can you help, please? The sand is really starting to hurt!” she explained, wondering if her face could get any hotter. At this rate the small cybernetic implant that curved around her left eye from forehead to temple was going to start turning red too.

 

“Yeah, I had the same problem with my armor. I actually broke a fastener and had to end up tearing the underarmor to get it off. The zipper was jammed up bad,” he told her. “That is one reason I took so long earlier. Let’s do this in the crew quarters since I already made a sand mess in there and C2 will have that and the cargo area to clean up already. We don’t need to spread the sand around to anymore areas.”

 

Mallay agreed and they went into the crew quarters. Well, this is a scenario I would never have thought would happen…Aric is taking me into his quarters to undress me! She felt both nervous and giddy at that. Easy there girl….inappropriate, you are his CO! Besides, I am sure he isn’t thinking along those lines.

 

“Ok, brace yourself on the bunk here, and I will see if we can get this fastener off without breaking it.” Aric told her roughly. Ok, keep your cool, Jorgan, she is your CO and needs your help. Just because that entails you undressing her next to your bed doesn’t mean you should be thinking about getting her into it. He had found his CO attractive since he first laid eyes on her, but lately his feelings were getting more intense….he was starting to care for her, more than just a squad mate or friend. He hadn’t realized it until Balkar started hitting on her back on Nar Shddaa.

 

He got to work trying to get her buckle to release, but it wouldn’t budge. “I am going to have to break it I think, the sand has it jammed badly.” She nodded and he grabbed the tool he used on his and broke both of her buckles off. A shower of sand poured out and her chest and back plates fell off and hit with floor with a loud thunk.

 

“I actually feel a lot lighter now!” Mallay laughed.

 

“We’re not done yet, try your zipper.” He told her, “Mine was jammed up so I had to tear my underarmor to get it off.” She complied without success. He tried to work it free as well, trying very hard not to notice how well it fit her small, lithe body. Calm down, think about something else….something other than the fact you are trying to unzip her and if you are successful, you are going to be a happy man. Huttball, yeah, think about Huttball….ok, you can do this.

 

“Ummm, Aric, you gonna help me here?” she asked him, glancing over her shoulder. “Just tear it if you have to, I can’t take this sand rubbing my scars anymore!”

 

Aric was startled to realize that he was shaking a little. Oh, I want to help you out of that all right and into my…..stop that…Huttball, Pod Racing! “Ok, Mallay, hold still, I don’t want to poke you,” he told her as grabbed his vibroknife. He pulled back her underarmor at her neck and started to cut at it. When he had worked a big enough cut, he grabbed it from both sides and ripped it open down to her waist.

 

“Oh stars, that feels amazing!” Mallay moaned as sand fell off of her back.

 

It was like he took a fist to the gut. Huttball, Pod racing…..the BlasTech catalogue! He couldn’t breathe. He just stared at her bare back. He saw creamy skin and the beautiful tattoo that helped conceal her scars. He saw her pink lace bra and knowing her obsession for things to match, he was sure her panties would be pink lace as well. He wanted to rip it all off and take her right then and there….consequences be damned! He shook at that thought. He needed to get away from her. “You should be able to finish on your own. Just leave it all here and I will send C2 in to take care of it along with mine. I am going to go finish getting our cannons cleaned out,” he managed to get out as he turned to leave the crew quarters.

 

“Thanks Aric, you truly are a lifesaver!” she called after him as she went into the ‘fresher.

 

He made the mistake of turning around in time to see her thick auburn hair tumble down to her waist having been freed of its coil. Her back was to him as the door was sliding closed, but not before he noticed that he was right about her underwear. “I don’t think there is a drink or shower cold enough to help me right now!” he muttered as he went back to the weapons room to finish cleaning their cannons.

 

 

Edited May 19, 2013 by alaurin

[Tatile]

Big Replies List because it's Sunday and I have all the time ._.

 

Selentar - Nothing says wealth, power and turning circle of an oil tanker than Desler Avenger series. I can just imagine lightning shooting out of the headlights.

 

Kabe - I like to think that Quinn visited that bar enough times to make graphs and charts, and realise that it's not just an anomaly of Darts Night.

 

Alaurin - Good thing Jorgan has a sense of humour or else that could have gone horribly wrong. Also, your Corso has brains. Poor Mallay, fighting evil Sith Lords and running from collapsing buildings is a totally different terror to spying on the hot guy - Also, sand D: If your couple were closer, that could have gone further, but I imagine it would have been stopped by the horrible, horrible, get-in-***********-everywhere sand.

 

Lesaberisa - Malicineve sounds absolutely ghastly, poor Vette Game of Sith would be an awesome watch that would probably be banned on loads of Imperial ships because the crew keeps watching and fighting over it instead of doing their job.

 

Marissalf - Both stories, totally devastating to Kinka and it really came across. I hope Kothe gets what's coming to him.

 

And I still have things to read, asdfghjkl;

 

Striges - Yes, Rixik, too smart for your own good *rubs hands together gleefully* I do Andalar sticks around to help Kirya do... whatever it is she needs to do.

Edited May 19, 2013 by Tatile

[bright_ephemera]

Sorry for the lateness! Here's a prompt...

 

Week of 5/17/2013

Cross My Heart - Honesty isn't exactly espoused by most organizations in the galaxy, but some individuals and groups still strive for it. Write about your characters encountering (or handing out) the right or wrong truth at the right or wrong time.

 

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=5223753&postcount=1675.

[bright_ephemera]

@Yoshi, somehow the Smuggler is the perfect class to be haunted by such an implacable, adorable rival.

 

@Tatile D'aw, Broan. I can sympathize with Rochester's concentration on the cake to start with...eating iffy cake is much easier than starting some conversations.

 

@Lesaberisa *shudder* Malicineve has some classic Sith form...and that's chilling.

As for Amitia, guh, the living mate who can't shut up about the episode you're currently busy watching is incredibly annoying.

 

@marissalf You really bring out the frustration of being unable to talk. And Vector is so sweet...yet so unable to help just then. And then the rage explosion in the second...ouch. Fully deserved.

 

@Striges I was impressed with how prepared Rixik was. Too bad he's dealing with a very thorough man.

 

@alaurin Huttball, Pod racing…..the BlasTech catalogue! had me giggling.

 

I hereby nominate Bright as the thread’s honorary Quinn, both for compulsive record-keeping and number crunching as well as infatuation with the Sith Warrior (please don’t hurt me).

 

I was going to get indignant; then I realized that the biggest reason (apart from monologuing) that I loved Quinn to start with, and by extension the reason I'm in this fandom and this thread, was the observation that his brain works a lot like mine does. (Listed "Relaxation Method" in the SWTOR Encyclopedia: "Checking Imperial census data for errors.") That bastard.

Edited May 19, 2013 by bright_ephemera

[bright_ephemera]

A serious Life and Death for Vierce. Spoilers for Trooper Act 3. It had to happen eventually. Chronology, since I’ve been telling a lot of this out of order:

 

 

Health: Stranded on Hoth

Laws and Governance: Vierce and Elara kiss just before the end of Act 2 (retelling/canon-ified version of the older Best Day Ever)

Health: Vierce revives after his end of Act 2 wounds

Health/Confessions: Vierce gets moving after his end of Act 2 wounds

Weather: making out on Belsavis

A-77 Station (this story)

Fashion: Vierce takes Elara out to eat on Voss

Best Day Ever: Vierce and Elara finally get it on

 

 

 

And story, 1500 words.

 

 

 

“Get to the command center; from there you can open all the cells. Once our boys are loose they can ride out in one of the old supply transports. It’ll be a tight fit, but I doubt anyone will complain. I’ll help them get the transport running and ride out with them.”

 

“Understood. Take care, Sergeant.”

 

Ava Jaxo’s holo image smiled at me. “Good luck, Major.”

 

The objective on the Imperial station A-77 was to free three hundred Republic POWs, a target of opportunity we didn’t want to miss. Sergeant Jaxo had slipped their security to call in for support, and Havoc Squad was here to handle it.

 

My people fought through a mess of droids to reach the station’s command deck. When we reached the bridge the only person in sight was a collared Mon Calamari cowering in a corner. “Aah!” he yelled the second I caught sight of him. “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot! I surrender!”

 

When we walked up close the guy kept on yelling. “You – you’re Republic, right? This is a jailbreak? Please – I’ll do whatever you want! Just don’t hurt me!”

 

I looked around. “Where’s your commander?”

 

“This facility is all slaves and droids. Most of the place is automated, I’m just a technician. You–you want me to unlock the prisoner cells? I can do that.” He turned to the console but kept babbling. “It’ll only take a moment– just– ah! General Rakton!”

 

The holo behind me had burst to life. “Impressive,” came a familiar voice. “Your time from learning about A-77 to storming its command deck was shorter than even my most aggressive estimates.”

 

I spun to glare at Rakton. “Underestimating the Republic seems to be a habit of yours.”

 

“Somehow I think that ‘habit’ is a premature label.” A distant impact and rumble sounded through the command deck. “Imperial warships have maneuvered into position around A-77. The facility will be obliterated in a matter of minutes. Goodbye.” The holo vanished. We all heard another impact.

 

The slave technician was busy at the console. “Our shields weren’t ready for this! I have to reroute power…”

 

My earpiece gave the little pop to signal an opening channel. It was Sergeant Jaxo. “You want to give me an update here, Major? It feels like someone’s shooting at us.”

 

May as well give it straight. “We’re under attack. Imp ships have jumped in and are firing hard.”

 

“They’re going to blow up their own prison? That’s insane!”

 

No, I thought. It makes perfect sense. The best bait is the stuff you don’t care about throwing away.

 

“I can do it!” said the technician. “I can keep the shields up! We can all make it out if I just vent the systems level.”

 

Jaxo’s voice replied. “You can’t vent the systems level. I’m on the systems level! There are droids everywhere, I’d never make it out – who is this moron?”

 

I turned to the technician. “I need options. Can we close off the section she’s in?”

 

“I’ve got no way to do that. I’m sorry.”

 

“Any enviro suits stocked where she is?” I thought of Jaxo working alone down there. “Or what’s the shortest path to her? Forex may be fast enough to get in, pick her up.”

 

“There isn’t time! Please forgive me, but there is no other way to restore the shields. And without shields, we’ll never get the cells open fast enough. All of the prisoners would die.”

 

“You’ve got to get me out of here, Vierce.” Jaxo’s voice wavered and cracked. “I can’t die in this place. I can’t.”

 

“Ava…” I thought about her place on Coruscant, her brassy laughter, the way she teased a “small-town boy” for taking it slow. “I don’t see that we have a choice. There’s hundreds of prisoners. We all came here to rescue them.”

 

“There’s always a choice. Please – don’t do this.”

 

The thing to do was clear. I thought it’d be easier if I didn’t know her. But I did know her, and she was counting on me, and none of that changed what I had to do. “I’m sorry, Ava. You won’t be forgotten.” I almost cut off my transmitter there, but no. She deserved to hear the order that killed her. “Vent the systems level. Get shields back and then open prison cells ASAP.”

 

“Yes!” yelped the technician. “Yes, of course!”

 

“But…no,” Ava sobbed in my ear. “It can’t end like this.”

 

I couldn’t send her out in silence. I opened my mouth, not knowing what to say. “Ava, listen to me–”

 

“It can’t–”

 

There was a loud rush of air, some metallic shrieks from below. Then nothing.

 

 

The technician’s voice trampled onto my nerves. “It…worked. Shields are back to ninety percent, but they will not last forever. You should return to your ship. I’ll ensure the prisoners are freed and find their way to the transport.”

 

“Like hell. We’re helping. Point me.”

 

The cell blocks ran along a whole level beneath the command deck. Elara, Forex, Vik and I moved to assist the evacuation. I should’ve sent Forex in in Jaxo’s place; he could’ve dealt with decompression. He could’ve– I forced myself back to work. I sent Yuun ahead to precalculate a hyperspace jump for the transport, and ordered Jorgan to be ready to jump our ship the second Havoc got back to it. I should’ve had him manning sensors the whole time, watching so we had that extra edge before the firing started, so she could’ve gotten out in time– stop it. There were prisoners, some of them in bad shape, and I needed to see that they got out of their cells and onto the transport.

 

There weren’t any introductions while we worked, just a murmur of “Havoc Squad” and a lot of saluting on the run. I didn’t feel too worthy of that respect just then, but that didn’t matter; the important thing was to keep moving, to make sure everyone was in a state to walk and to reach the transports. Save them, one step at a time. The moments coming clear of the station under bombardment would be the worst danger of the day, but that was just something we would have to handle.

 

Just something we had to handle.

 

An officer stepped up to finish settling the transport so Havoc could get back to our own ship. I saluted him gratefully and then pounded the decks to get home.

 

“Back toward Coruscant,” I ordered once we were on board, “and then all of you, take a break.” Me, I went back to my quarters.

 

Since I’d joined up with the Republic I hadn’t lost many friends. Sure, I hadn’t exactly made close friends, but…where the resistance was one tight conflict, a roll of the dice on who you knew who would die any time fighting broke out, the Army was practically safe. Stable.

 

And when our people did die, it wasn’t on my orders.

 

I tried to remember the way Jaxo smelled and couldn’t. I guess in the bigger picture we hadn’t spent all that much time up close. Only a few dates. It seemed like I should’ve remembered anyway. I owed her that much. Stars. What exactly do you owe when you’ve taken someone’s life? Not an enemy’s, not somebody who lined up against you in a war. A friend’s. It doesn’t seem like there’s anything to exchange for that. I would see her decorated for what she did and gave back there, but that wasn’t really the same.

 

Elara slipped in. I didn’t look up from where I sat. She came over to sit beside me.

 

“I wish I could've looked her in the eye,” I said. “She deserved that much.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Elara said quietly. “But it was the right thing to do.”

 

My old burn scar itched and ached. I shook my head. “Go on. I'll be good to work in the morning.”

 

“Vierce, if there's anything…” She laid her hand on my arm very lightly, careful not to crowd.

 

Still too close. I’m a dangerous guy to be around. I always was. “Go on,” I said again. “This one's mine to take.”

 

She stood. “You saved three hundred lives today, sir. Remember that.” She leaned to kiss my hair, a firm steadying touch, and then she left.

 

I knew she meant the “sir” as a reminder of what I was. The command I was responsible for. She meant well. It didn’t help much.

 

I lay back and tried to let my brain fuzz out. My brain disregarded that order. Other times like this, I hadn't been the one in charge. Instead I’d given resistance leaders hell for sacrificing one or two of our own. Even when our people volunteered, even when the need was known and agreed on, I hated it. I hated the commanders who allowed it. I hated the people who could stand there and order one of our own to die.

 

Like I did.

 

It was a long night. Staying up just meant that I wouldn’t be waking up in the morning. One last thing Jaxo and I had in common.

 

 

Edited May 20, 2013 by bright_ephemera

[Striges]

I really like the stats posts. Please don't stop.

 

I was going to get indignant; then I realized that the biggest reason (apart from monologuing) that I loved Quinn to start with, and by extension the reason I'm in this fandom and this thread, was the observation that his brain works a lot like mine does. (Listed "Relaxation Method" in the SWTOR Encyclopedia: "Checking Imperial census data for errors.") That bastard.

 

This is precisely why I have a hard time really hating Quinn. Even with the Act 3 episode. He's too much like me in some ways. So not meant as a jab by any means. I keep files in separate folders for "posted" and "ongoing" versions of my stories. Folders for every prompt, folders for each separate thread I've participated in, folders for threads I haven't even made yet. Oh yes, a master list of the proper order for each file within each folder. And a "notes" section for each story with color-coded text so I can see at a glance whether I've shown a particular plot point yet or not. I'm hardly in a place to be mean about someone else's compulsions.

 

I could probably do that easier in excel. I haven't played around with databases overmuch.

 

@ Marissalf: Two versions of Kinka and Vector, both heartbreaking in their own way. She's so alone in the first one, even surrounded by supportive crew (well, one anyway). Vector's companion dialogue in the context of the second one is eerie. That he has no clue what's coming. AU Kothe made an implacable enemy.

 

@ alaurin: Jorgan's distractions, very funny. That ship needs a few cans of WD-40 maybe more than it needs a kolto tank.

 

Thanks to everyone who appreciated Rixik getting some just desserts. Bad guys don't win forever in Star Wars.

[YoshiRaphElan]

@ bright, that is no doubts the hardest choice to make in the game. I spent a good minute sitting there, staring at the screen. I hadn't had any DS points until then, but I almost, almost went dark. But I didn't.

 

@ alaurin, that would be an awkward moment. Stupid sand.

 

To everyone else, I am reading these when I have time. Keep writing.

[Striges]

Agreed with Yoshi, Bright. The mission with Jaxo is one of the most difficult choices to make. Like a few others, I expect it hits harder if your trooper is male and took a couple of the (flirt) options (yet another reason I wish SGR was available at release) but either way it's a tough one.

 

I think I mentioned it in response to another story about this mission, but I think it's tougher for troopers than Jedi simply because you don't have the Force to lean on. The Jedi can always come back with "it was the will of the Force", or "the Force guided me". A trooper doesn't get that excuse. They have to make the best decisions they can and live with the consequences.

 

No, I thought. It makes perfect sense. The best bait is the stuff you don’t care about throwing away.

This is an astute, if painful, observation. Whether Virece learned it as part of the resistance or elsewhere, it shows how well he understands the typical Imperial mindset.

 

It was a long night. Staying up just meant that I wouldn’t be waking up in the morning. One last thing Jaxo and I had in common.

Vierce takes so many things personally. Even though we know he'd make the same choice again, we also hear the bitterness in his voice.

 

Well done, Bright.

[irishfino]

Replies!

 

@ irishfino, ugh, the grandstanding takes on a level of visceral ow when Force-blinds get thrown into the power struggle.

It's one of Gelt's fears come true. He really, really like Rylee (maybe even loves, but he hasn't quite realized it/won't admit it yet).

 

@ Irish: Gelt had to hurt, torn between playing politics and concern for Rylee.

He was definitely trapped between a rock and a hard place.

 

 

Story!

 

NotLP: Life and Death

Characters: Geltie and Rylee

 

Between

 

 

“I had this all planned you know,” Rylee said idly. “Ever since you let Ravage take me.”

 

Gelt’s head was spinning. The last few weeks came to him in a rush. The invasion of Tython, a victorious blow to the Republic, Rylee in his arms, Rylee keening under him. Rylee.

 

He tried to draw his head up, but found every part of him heavy. His energy was drained. The Force refused to come to him.

 

“Never do that again.” It was his voice, but he wasn’t speaking. “Never do something like that again.”

 

“No, my Lord,” Rylee replied.

 

He shook his head and forced himself to regain his bearings. That happened weeks ago, he was sure. Yes, it had. He was tending to Rylee after retrieving her from the Council floor. He had taken great cares to keep her protected, but if she went out of her way and out of his bubble… there wasn’t anything he could do to protect her. She knew this. He had verbally beaten it into her skull every time she was visiting. Do not leave the estate unless it’s under guard. Do not bother any Sith. Do not look at any Sith. Do not breathe on any Sith. Stay quiet, stay alive. Stay respectful, keep your head. She knew this. She knew all of this. He hadn’t let Ravage do anything; she walked right up to him and slapped him in the face. It didn’t matter what she was doing or why. It didn’t matter that it was for the Empire. She had crossed certain boundaries she shouldn’t have. She should have told him. She should have – dammit, she should have stayed away from the political sphere. She wasn’t versed in it. It was nothing like the Cult.

 

“What have you done?” he asked. He spoke slowly, his tongue like freshly poured duracrete in his mouth.

 

“The Three helped me come up with the plan,” she said with a slight giggle. “You remember them, right? You were so kind, making them join us instead of replacing Destris and I. You promised to protect the Cult from harm. To protect it from Sith. To protect me. You failed. You failed really hard.”

 

“You shouldn’t – shouldn’t have been in the archives. If you had information –”

 

“If I had information, what?” she interrupted. She jabbed something into his side and delighted at his grunt of pain. “I wanted to help. I wanted to help my Lord, my leader, my Geltie. You didn’t even notice. You didn’t even notice I went missing. Where were you?”

 

“I told you I had business in the Citadel. You snuck out on your own. You – agh!”

 

Rylee smiled as the current from the shock collar around his neck flared to life at the press of a button. How interesting it was to see a man who could control lightning with barely a thought be so susceptible to it. It made a bit of sense, really, if she thought about it.

 

“This isn’t about me, Gelt. Or should I call you by your real name?” she asked. She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead she depressed the shock collar trigger again and delighted at his screams.

 

He wanted to overload the collar. He wanted to break free from her torture and kill her. That thought disturbed something, somewhere in his mind. But the sound of his own screams, the weakness in his limbs, his disconnect from the Force.

 

Grey mingled with purple in his vision. She would not survive this night.

 

Even if it killed him.

 

 

 

Notes:

 

 

All good things must come to an end. In the end, Rylee snapped under Ravage's torture and placed the blame for everything that happened on Geltie.

 

The title comes from the Inquisitor's ability to Forcewalk.

 

Edited May 20, 2013 by irishfino

[irishfino]

Prompt: Cross My Heart

Character: Ucles

 

 

Life, Love, Loss

 

 

I remember trying to get my wife pregnant. It was an oddly trying time for both of us. She monitored her cycle, chose the best times of day, listened to old wives’ tales of conception. It interfered with my work, but I loved her and made due.

 

The first time we were successful we were ecstatic. She started planning as soon as the results were positive.

 

Three months in we lost them. We lost our twin girls.

 

I let her know it was alright. It wasn’t her fault. These things happened. And it was true. She believed me, of course, I had no reason to lie.

 

It got harder for her to believe me when we lost the next one. Another girl.

 

She thought something was wrong with her. She went mad with worry and went to specialist after specialist until one told her what she wanted to hear.

 

We suffered another loss before our son was conceived. By then the damage had been done. She stayed in bed for much of her day, ate the healthiest foods she could find, listened to every bit of paranoid advice concerning the child. She was a walking incubator. She wouldn’t even let me sleep in the same bed as her. She didn’t want anything to jostle her stomach.

 

We grew apart over those long months.

 

When he was born, I was relieved. I wasn’t happy, I was relieved. The pressure of her pregnancy was finally gone. I could focus on my duties again without as much worry over her safety. Over her sanity. I could hold my wife again. I still loved her. I still wanted her. I wanted to be close to her again. I wanted to feel the smoothness of her skin against mine. I wanted to hold her and kiss her and tell her I loved her.

 

She doted on that boy the moment he was in her arms. She named him after me. She wanted a little Ucles at home while I was away. He looked enough like me to carry the name well. I would have preferred him to have a unique name, but she was insistent and, after everything we had been through, I couldn’t deny her this.

 

As he aged, though, he seemed to hate her. He shied from her touch. He screamed when she picked him up. He was never like that with me. In fact, I was all he wanted when he needed comfort after a tumble or a tantrum. She was convinced he knew she had lost the others. She convinced herself that our son, our little lightning spark, blamed her for their deaths. The deaths of his siblings.

 

There was no possible way he knew. I told her that. There was no one to blame for the losses. I didn’t blame her, but I knew she blamed herself.

 

One day she asked me if I thought she was crazy. I told her no. I told her I loved her and knew the grief she suffered.

 

She died protecting us.

 

It was all I could do to paint the prettiest picture of his dead mother whenever he asked. He didn’t need to know his mother was broken.

 

He asked me, years later, what she was like. He already knew. He had the journals. I hand delivered them.

 

I painted the prettiest picture of his dead mother.

 

His smile, knowing in its youthfulness, was just like hers.

 

It pains me to this day.

 

 

Edited May 20, 2013 by irishfino

[Tatile]

Oh, Irish, ow

[Lesaberisa]

Oh, Irish, ow

 

This, so much.

 

 

Character: Ayrs Martell (trooper, but no spoilers)

Prompt: What if?

Premise: What if Ayrs didn't join the military?

 

I might spin this off into an AU, but I haven't decided (still working on getting my Inquisitor stuff ready).

 

Warning: Violence. minor gore, long

 

 

The sun was still shining brightly in the afternoon sky as Ariel, Cimon, Thane and I rode back into Penelope. An early lunch out on the Wynchester Cliffs wasn't my idea of fun, really, but if Ariel wanted something she knew she only had to ask. Besides, I made up for it by boring them all to death with stories Pop had told me from his days in the Order.

 

I felt Ariel's grip around my waist tighten a bit. My speederbike was designed for two, but it was a snug fit. Not that I minded, with Ariel in that blue dress of hers and the wind whipping her red hair like it did. I felt like one of those characters from the vids, you know the story. Saves the day, gets the girl, happy ending to the story. I gave her a kiss when we pulled over, then helped her off my piece of junk Fortune Hunter.

 

"I"ll see you later, the three of us are going to head over to the cantina for some morale boosting. I'm glad we went out to the cliffs, though, it was fun. And reminded me how lucky I am to have you."

 

Her eye roll interrupted itself as I kept going, and her face settled on a bemused smile. "I'll see you later too, Ayrs."

 

I watched her walk away, wasn't going to deny myself the view unless I had to. I heard Thane laugh and finally turned around, placing one arm around each of my friends, with me in the middle. "Let's go get drunk."

 

As we made our way down Constitution Avenue, I heard a strange whine and then some other loud noises. I'd have guessed some kind of mechanical problem on someone's speeder, but the sounds were coming from the air. Strange. I was still puzzling that over when the whine came back and a pair of fast-moving objects hit the militia headquarters

 

The building sat there for a couple of moments. Just like in the vids, when someone's shot or whatever but they don't realize it yet. Then it exploded in a huge ball of heat and fire and sound that took out the buildings on either side of it as well. The force of it blew me back against the wall and left me dazed and seeing stars. The hell?. Now, there were more roars, whines and what sounded like blaster fire.

 

"We're under attack!" Cimon was always the quickest to grasp things, this time was no different. "We need to get to the comm center and warn the outlying settlements."

 

His comm buzzed, all of ours did. Emergency signal, only came when we got one of the bad rainstorms and had to head to the shelters. It'll send a bunch of people into the city where... We all looked up at each other at the same time, wthe same realization in our eyes.

 

"We need to get to get to the communications station and override the signal." Cimon, professional as always. It helped that he worked there, too.

 

It wouldn't take us long to get there, just had to walk down Constitution, take Paradise over to Trammel, and we'd be there. Just as long as we didn't run into any of the attackers on foot or get bombed or something. Oh, and we each only had our standard vibroblades. No problem though, we'd find a way. They always did in the vids, right?.

 

Cim was still furiously typing at something on his datapad as we began making our way down the street, as stealthily as we could. People were running around in a panic, screaming, flailing, dying. In a strange way, I was more glad than ever that my parents had been who they were - never afraid to tell us an unpleasant truth. Penelope was an ugly place right now, but its people needed me to be up to the task. Needed us.

 

As we turned onto Paradise Drive, I saw a body in a blue dress lying in a side street. It had red hair and a plush bantha that looked like the one I'd just gotten Ariel was lying on the ground. But it wasn't, couldn't be, Ariel. It was just someone else who looked like her, I knew it. Ariel was on her way out of the city, they'd never catch her. She was fine.

 

Cimon gave me an odd look, then motioned towards the communications tower; the visible flashes in the windows revealed that at least some of the defenders were still alive and putting up a fight. Good for us, assuming we could punch through whatever was in the way. Didn't seem like there was anyone in between us and the door, so we hoofed it across the street, Thane leading the way with his pistol at the ready.

 

"Through three rooms, up the service corridor. There's a secondary control station there that hardly anyone uses. I can program the override from there, upload it, and then we get the hell out."

 

Worked for me.

 

The entrance and first two rooms were a horror, bodies everywhere. Not bodies. People. Friends. Some of the attackers too, but not near enough. The sounds of fighting were fading too, we didn't have much time. Thane rounded a corner, but before I could even follow, there was a loud shot and he fell backwards with a smoking hole in his chest. I'd always thought the term 'seeing red' was just from the vids, but now I knew what it meant. Re- gripping my blade so it faced downwards, I slashed the man across the face. Even as he dropped his pistol to the ground to frantically hold back the bleeding, I stabbed forcefully downwards into his neck. There was blood everywhere.

 

Then I threw up.

 

Cimon was hunched over Thane, talking to him even when there'd be no answer, holding a hand that would never hold his back. I wanted to tell him we had to keep moving, but I kept seeing Dio in Thane's place and knew that if my brother had been lying there I'd need a minute too. If we were lucky, whoever was attacking us wouldn't know about the secondary station and Cim would be able to program the override without them ever knowing.

 

We continued down the hallway, passing rooms full of smoking computer terminals and dead bodies. Cim had point since he'd grabbed a pistol off Thane's murderer, I was still gripping my blade tightly enough that my hand was turning white. Fifty feet to go. Twenty. And then we had company.

 

Three to our left, about twenty feet away. Another to our right, big Trandoshan with the cruelest eyes I'd ever seen. Cim was already spraying fire at the group, so I charged the big lizard and hoped I'd figure something out. I made up the ground fast enough that he only had time to swing his rifle at me like a club, I dodged most of it but the butt caught me on the shoulder and left it painful as hell. I swung my first at him and came up empty. Swung again and connected but it was like punching stone. Broken finger. Maybe two..

 

I heard Cim cry out and knew I didn't have time to mess around. Even as the Trandoshan swung the rifle back around, I reached towards him and grabbed the pistol out of his belt. Those red eyes got real big when he realized what I had and looked even better on the ground with smoke coming out of the wound in his throat. This one felt better, I realized. That scared me.

 

Then the strange whimper I heard from behind me reminded me of the others. All three of the attackers were sprawled out on the ground. So was Cimon, still breathing, but with at least three blaster wounds I could see and probably more than a few I couldn't. He was slowly forcing himself up from the ground, but it didn't look good. One of the attackers groaned, then, so I reached down and, with strength I didn't even realize I had, gripped his throat firmly in my hand and lifted him slightly off the ground. His eyes flew open, suddenly, full of pain and fear. "Please, mercy."

 

I looked at him, curiously. He relaxed.

 

"No."

 

I threw him up against the bulkhead, shattering his neck into a million pieces I hoped. Then, I turned back to check on Cim.

 

Something moved behind me. There was a flash and suddenly my back was on fire. Kark. I had dropped the lizard's blaster as I fell, so I found myself staring up at a grizzled old man with an eyepatch.

 

"You fought well, son, but I've got a mission here and I can't have you stopping me. Why don't you tell me what you were doing here and I'll make it painless."

 

I spat blood at his shoe. "Why don't you come down here and I'll tell you?" I still had my blade, barely in my grip but there, behind me.

 

He just laughed and brought his boot down on my face. He was still laughing when Cimon's shot nailed him right between the eyes. I felt Cim grab my hands in his and drag me into the control room. He dumped me, a bit unceremoniously, next to the auxiliary panel, then limped over to the door controls - every step was a struggle. The door slammed shut, and I heard the locking mechanism lock into place.

 

"Kark."

 

Couldn't feel my legs, couldn't be sure I wanted to. Spinal injury for sure, broken nose too from the unpleasant view I had looking down at it. Something metallic and salty was in my mouth. Blood, you idiot. But we'd made it, Cim could upload the override, and then...I wasn't sure.

 

"We're going to have to set this place to blow. I can program the generators to overload after the override goes out." Cimon always kept his cool, even in the worst of times. "We'll never make it out past whoever's out there now, definitely not once their friends join them. We have to make sure they can't deactivate the override or we're all karked."

 

I just nodded and rested my head against the bulkhead. I realized my hand was resting on my stomach, so I lifted it off to wipe my face off. Only, it was covered in blood. Gutshot. Oh well, wasn't going anywhere anyway. I heard Cim typing away at the terminal. He'd take care of things, he always did. Time passed slowly, which was fine by me. Didn't want to get to the end of this story too fast.

 

"Ayrs." Cim's voice was hoarse and disturbingly quiet. "Ayrs. You need to push the button. Starts timer. Then we're good to go. Unless they get in."

 

I pushed the button. Five minutes. Just had to make sure I didn't bleed out before that, that and had to hope we didn't have any uninvited guests.

 

Something buzzed next to me, the comm. I activated it, breathing heavily from the effort. "Hello?"

 

"Ayrs? Ayrs?" It was Mom. I hadn't heard her sound like this since when we got the news about Pop. "Are you there?"

 

I choked up for a moment, was going to miss Mom and her worrying. "Hey Mom, I'm here." Every word was torture, every syllable a burst of fire in my lungs. "Don't have. Much time."

 

Mom sounded sad. "Oh Ayrs, I'm so sorry."

 

I smiled at that. "I'm not. Had to be done. Might as well be me."

 

It sounded like she was crying. "I've always been proud of you, but never as much as I am now. I love you."

 

"I love you too, Mom. I'll say hi to Pop for you."

 

I closed the comm, I didn't need to cause her more pain, didn't need to hear her cry. Was already crying enough for the both of us. I rolled my head to the left to look at Cim when I heard him moaning quietly. I tried to cheer him up. "If I had to have one person stinking the room up with me, I'm glad it was you. We had a good run."

 

He coughed up some more blood when he tried to laugh. His voice was weak, so weak. "The best." Then he was quiet again.

 

Seconds passed by slowly, painfully, especially as I couldn't reach the display monitor to see how much longer we had to wait. I looked over at Cim to see how he was doing, but he wasn't talking. Wasn't moving. My head slumped against my chest. I could hear the pounding on the door outside, the shouting from the sithspawn wanting to get in. To shut the override off. To murder the rest of my family and friends. If I could just hold out, it'd all blow up in their faces.

 

I laughed bitterly at my own terrible joke.

 

And then...I could see my father coming into view, shimmering a bit like a mirage in the desert. He was younger, like in the pictures we had of him and mom back when they were out saving the Republic. He was smiling too, and I thought I could see him reaching out with his hand. I wondered if this was what he had felt too, wherever he had been. I wondered what he had seen, what stories he had never gotten a chance to tell me. I wondered if I would finally know what it was like to feel the Force.

 

Something was screeching in my ear, I wasn't sure what. There was a buzzing too, and some beeping. I hoped it wasn't some sort of maintenance droid shutting the override down. I fumbled a bit trying to find the display, but my hands came up empty. Out of luck, I guess. Out of time. My eyes rolled back over to where I'd seen my father.

 

Pop's hand was closer, but instead of his warmth I just felt cold all over. I couldn't see his face any more, just the outline of his shape. I reached out an unsteady hand to try to meet his but came up with only air. I could hear a roaring around me, and the chill turned suddenly quite hot.

 

I hoped Pop had a good story waiting

 

 

And on a happier Ayrs note

 

Prompt: Affection

Minor trooper spoilers, set on Alderaan (but during Act 2, pre-relationship. Barely before it, though.)

 

 

The wind was picking up a bit now,

 

Elara was sitting to my side, looking over the ridge at the valley below. Some nerfs were peacefully making their way down a mountain path, everything else was lush greenery and a sense that - even if the entire galaxy was at war - there would always be some small corner of it to find peace. Even happiness. I felt a little embarrassed, watching her like that, but - by the Force - I felt like I like some teenage farmboy without a clue around her. She was my XO, my subordinate....my friend. She was stronger than even I'd realized too, with everything she'd gone through, even if it meant talking down a traitor I wanted to kill. And she's beautiful, too.

 

I cautiously glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, taking in the sparkle in her eyes, and the shine of the sun in her golden hair. When I'd asked the Duke to 'borrow' some of his lands for a quiet lunch, he'd looked uncertain. I wasn't sure how I felt about unburdening everything on the ship's droid first and now an Alderaanian nobleman but, stars, this was nice. I just wished I had the guts to tell her how I felt, to hold her hand and tell her even being around her made this whole karking mess of a galaxy worth fighting for. I thought....prayed more like... maybe, she might feel that way about me, with the surprisingly pointed teasing, the bright smiles, what looked like a glow in her eyes when she looked at me.

 

But I wasn't sure. And, if I was wrong...she deserved better, even if I was probably toeing the regulatory line already with this 'informal lunch briefing'.

 

"Sir, I just wanted to thank you for taking me out here. I did not get much of a chance to travel in my time in the Empire, and Republic security has been understandably unwilling to allow me to since defecting." Her voice was like music to me, every word a beautiful note that was hit just right.

 

"We're off duty, you can call me Ayrs, Lieu-Elara." I grimaced at my own verbal clumsiness, then worked it into a grin to cover for myself.

 

She turned to me and gave me that blinding smile of hers that left me feeling like a punch-drunk fighter. "Well, then, I must thank you, si-Ayrs, it was quite a nice distraction from everything that is going on." Her smile turned almost shy. "It was lovely."

 

I smiled at that and matched her gaze, nodding my agreement. Yes, you are

 

Edited May 20, 2013 by Lesaberisa

[bright_ephemera]

@Striges The Trooper is definitely written on a different moral axis from the Jedi/Sith/classic Star Warsy classes. Trooper DS/LS lines up much more with the hard decisions human beings have to make and live with, especially highlighting the times when the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one, and you don't get mystical powers to guide your weapon or show you an unexpectedly clean way to victory. One might call the Trooper's different moral plane a weakness or inconsistency in the game universe, but I would call it one of the class's strengths - it definitely offers unique tests.

 

@irishfino, Geltie's litany of the steps to take to stay safe is heartbreaking. Because in the end, none of it really keeps you safe.

 

@Lesaberisa, you did a great job with the jarring thoughts of a person in shock about what he's just lost or can't stand to think he's just lost. (Thanks for the violence tag, by the by.) Vivid relationships drawn on a compact canvas - I really liked this. Then moving on to a crush on Elara was a comforting follow-on image.

 

 

 

Now some notes on Wynston's background material to date:

 

Myths and Legends, Wynston as a child hears a story

What If? AU, Wynston runs into his sister Calline (Callinel) just before the class line starts

Wynston in the Lodestone AU expands a little on his childhood (the conversation setting is alt-U, but all background information there is canon truth from a certain point of view)

Wynston in the Lodestone AU touches on the end of his relationship with Nyss (his love for Ruth is alt-U, but the paragraph on Nyss and the stated relationship with alcohol are canon truth from a certain point of view)

 

 

And, finally, Culture Shock with Wynston, fifteen years before the class line (spanning the accelerated Chiss adolescence of, for him, age 10-11). No spoilers. 300 words.

 

 

"Basic," as a language, was anything but.

 

The Chiss who would name himself Wynston knew only a few phrases from his childhood in the mines; it was when his family moved to the Imperial-held colony of Atalan VII that he got the chance to observe more. And he did: as much conversation as he could get in the plastoids factory where he worked, holodramas nonstop when he got home, scouring the HoloNet for reading that would earn him some language comprehension and useful knowledge at the same time.

 

He spoke Basic to his parents, even when they wouldn't speak it back. He and his little sister Callinel taught it to their little brothers. He practiced it with his older sister Caevarl. He ran it back and forth with Nyss when they talked about running away together. He mouthed phonemes to himself, and rehearsed words and sentences, and practiced hiding his accent behind the sound and delivery of the most sophisticated-seeming holodrama actors - the officers, the ones in charge. Somewhere amidst the rapid changes of his body that year one of the Rattataki women on the factory floor thought of a way he could repay her for lessons. It was not unpleasant; in fact, if it weren't for Nyss he might have bought a lot more that way. Anything to get closer to his goal. Basic, messy and inconsistent though it was, was what Imperials spoke. He knew his knowledge of Cheunh might be his ticket into Imperial service, but first he had to get far enough to use that ticket.

 

"Basic," as a language, was anything but, but it was the starting point to escape this life of meaningless labor, and that meant that the Chiss who would name himself Wynston would do anything to master it.

 

 

Notes:

In the end, he ran away without Nyss. And became the premiere Imperial Agent of his time.

 

It's weird to think of Wynston as starting at a blind social disadvantage...but of course he must have. The confidence he possesses in Ruth's timeline is after he's had fifteen years to perfect his image. At some point in the past he was an adolescent male, foreign, uneducated, pretty but not very valuable, anxious to find something to live for.

 

I don't know what complexity Basic canonically has. I know Cheunh itself is supposed to be a very difficult, nuanced language, but speaking it natively doesn't necessarily make it easier to pick up somebody else's tricky language.

 

 

Edited September 8, 2013 by bright_ephemera

[YoshiRaphElan]

Prompt - Seven Virtues

Title - Justice

Class - Jedi Knight

Minor spoilers

 

 

Aaran knelt on the hill and pulled out his macrobinoculars. He saw the travelers farther up the hill, coming in a convoy of speeders, undefended. There hadn't been weaponry on Alderaan since the end of the war, and Aaran had appointed himself the guardian of Alderaan, as it was his homeworld.

 

Years ago, during the war, his parents had been taking a brief vacation on the ocean world Mon Calamari. Aaran had been conceived. His father, wanting to keep his wife and unborn child, had sent her to Alderaan to stay in the care of the valiant heroes of House Organa, namely Duke Charle Organa. After Aaran's birth, he'd been raised on the world until he was a year and a half old, after which he'd been taken to Tython.

 

Aaran was Force sensitive, and had been trained as a Jedi. But he'd been too young to participate in the war his father fought, the war his mother fought. They'd fought villains like Darth Angral, the Dread Masters, the Emperor himself. Aaran had fought...training droids.

 

Ah, well, better that he could live out his days in peace. He'd seen on his parents' faces what the war had done to them, seen the sadness at friends lost. He didn't have to experience that.

 

As Aaran had feared, a team of bandits stepped out of the trees, surrounding the speeders. One fired into the engine of the lead landspeeder. The speeder stalled, and the bandits surrounded the travelers. Aaran grinned, reached down for his belt.

 

He crept silently through the trees, until he was directly behind the leader of the bandits. Then he used the Force to propel him high into the branches. He was thankful that the Jedi had been able to go back to the simple brown robes of their past, eschewing the armor they'd worn during the war. He would never have been able to sneak anywhere in armor.

 

High in the trees, he pulled out a blaster pistol, and aimed it. He fired once, and the bolt sheared cleanly through the bandit leader's blaster, not even touching skin. The man yelped in surprise and dropped the weapon.

 

"Leave now!" Aaran called, using the Force to throw his voice. "Leave these people alone and you will not be harmed!"

 

"Who's going to make us!" demanded another bandit.

 

Aaran smiled. He loved that question. He leapt down amongst the bandits, holstering his blaster as he fell. When he hit the ground he had his lightsaber in hand, and he snapped the green blade to life. He pointed it at the bandit leader's throat.

 

"I am," he said.

 

The bandits scowled, holstered their blasters, and pulled out vibroblades. They were swift, deadly, and nearly silent. Probably Rist assassins, he decided. He angled his blade into a guard position. One bandit, a burly man with a beard that fell past his neckline, lunged with his sword. Aaran turned, slashed the man's hand off at the wrist, and used the Force to shove him back into the speeder.

 

The others moved as one.

 

Aaran didn't have time to spare them all. Moving in a swift circle, he slashed precisely. He cut one man down from shoulder to hip; another he decapitated. Arms, legs, and hands fell, and soon the bandits were lying, dead or injured, in heaps.

 

"Thank you!" said the traveler in the lead speeder.

 

"Abandon your speeder," Aaran said. "Get your things out of it and leave it here. I will call the Organa authorities to pick these men up."

 

"Thank you again," the traveler said as he moved back to the other speeder.

 

"Be safe," Aaran called. "May the Force be with you."

 

"And you, Jedi!" replied the traveler.

 

As they set off, Aaran smiled to himself. What good he could do, he did. Maybe he'd never fight in wars; so what? He would protect people right here.

 

 

 

This is Jasin and Kira's son, roughly aged 21, after the war with the Empire is over.

 

Went to an English-name list online, and Aaran was the first name on there. It means "light-bringer" and I all but hooted in joy that I'd found their child's name.