The Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread!

[Eanelinea]

Rites of Passage

 

Malavai Quinn

 

 

 

“Malavai!” A familiar voice called from the doorway. Malavai Quinn turned to see his friend Donner Park holding a datapad. “Did you see?” He asked, “We’re partners on the final trial! No way we fail now.” The final trial would be a live field investigation. They would be given a base to infiltrate, they would gather any data they could find and upload it to the Academy.

 

Malavai was relieved that Donner would be his partner. He did not work well with most of the other cadets. Other cadets did not care for his compulsive need for thoroughness and precision. Donner was the exception. They had joined the Academy on the same day and while Quinn’s aptitude in his classes made him the star pupil among his instructors, he did not know how to negotiate the political structure among the students. Many of the cadets were the sons and daughters of officers and high-ranking officials. Donner smoothed things over; he had a way with people. He was being groomed for Cipher training, he said he looked forward to it, especially once he heard about the seduction lessons that advanced cadets were taught.

 

Donner tossed the orders to Quinn, “Plan it will you? I’m going to scout I’ll patch you in when I’m there.” He ran off without waiting for an answer. Quinn reviewed the datapad noting the building schematics, likely points of entry, surveillance areas, and guard positions. This would be a live investigation, the building was owned by a civilian corporation with suspected Republic ties. Quinn was eager to see if they could find proof of wrongdoing. The traitors would be punished.

 

Donner worked quickly, he found a high vantage point and set up surveillance cameras and patched Quinn into the feed. “I see,” Quinn said mentally calculating the differentials between the building schematics and the actual building construction. “Point a range finder through the east window.”

 

Donner complied, patiently waiting for his friend to ensure that everything was perfect.

 

“Point the infrared sensor three-point-two-three meters up and two-point-five-four meters left from the south corner.”

Donner adjusted his surveillance equipment double-checking his settings, Quinn got testy when he was even one centimeter off.

 

“There,” Quinn said, sending back coordinates. “That’s our entry point.” Donner looked at his datapad, Quinn had found a poorly covered vent that led straight into the main datacenter bypassing most of security.

 

“You’re a genius! We make entry at first dark eight hundred hours.” Donner said happily.

 

“Eight-oh-three,” Quinn replied. “The guard patrol will still be able to see our entry point at eight hundred.”

 

“Right, sorry.” Donner said grinning. He hurried back to the Academy; this was going to be easy.

 

The plan went perfectly; Donner and Quinn entered the datacenter without a single hitch. The lights were off but Quinn knew exactly what they were looking for. They began slicing terminals and uploading information to the Academy. Technically, cadets were not required to read the data. However, Quinn was thorough; he wanted to make sure that they did not miss any other clues.

 

“There’s another set of data here.” Quinn said, scanning the entries. “It’s encrypted. I think the codes are on that terminal over there." Donner finished his upload and walked over to help his friend. They patched the two terminals together and were rewarded with a new set of files.

 

“This is a list of instructors at the Academy.” Donner whispered, looking around. He had not expected to find anything like this. “Schedules, ranks, students, classes,” he listed. “Do you think the Pubs would try to get one of theirs in?”

 

Quinn did not answer, his eyes sped through the data that streamed past. Who gave them this? He thought. It’s not exactly top secret but there certainly is a lot of information about social structures and personal observations, exactly what the Republic would need to infiltrate one of the Empires most important institutions. The end of the file was a company personnel list. Quinn skimmed the record, only one stood out.

 

Information specialist, male, age 18, hiring date D3Q3, tenure 4 years, code name NN.

 

Four years ago on the third day of the third quarter. Quinn thought. That’s when I arrived at the academy. Donner too. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Donner stood very still. Quinn’s mind raced remembering the times Donner had gone off for ‘intelligence training.’ How he was always quick with a lie to smooth things over. He looked at Donner’s terminal to see what he was reading. He was looking at the same file. Donner’s eyes were wide; his hand went for his blaster.

 

Quinn drew his blaster and shot him in the heart. Donner fell, the surprised look never leaving his face. Quinn stood a moment, staring at the still form of his best friend. An alarm sounded and the lights came on. Quinn raised his blaster readying himself to fall back to his planned escape route. The door opened and Commander Hillard, head of the final year cadets walked into the room.

 

“Stand down Quinn.” He said looking at the body on the floor. He checked the terminals and nodded at the technicians as they entered the lab.

 

Quinn holstered his blaster and started to explain, “Sir, I found evidence that…”

 

“Yes, yes, we know. It’s part of the test.” The man waved his hand vaguely. “You passed with flying colors. Congratulations Quinn, or should I say Ensign?” He slapped Quinn on the shoulder.

 

“Test?” Quinn repeated watching the technicians put Donner’s body into a bag. “But, he really was a traitor wasn’t he?”

 

“Now’s not the time to start asking questions Ensign,” the Commander said sharply, then he laughed. “Look at it this way, a few more seconds and he would have shot you. Now come on, let’s go celebrate the Empire’s newest Junior officer.”

 

Quinn thought a moment longer then straightened into a salute. “Of course, sir.” He said, and followed the Commander out of the room never looking back.

 

 

 

 

Note

 

 

I swear, I was not trying to be mean when I wrote this. I'm actually starting to feel sorry for him.

 

 

 

Poor Quinn. I feel so bad for him. I'm thinking it was all a set up. And a screwed up one at that.

[Eanelinea]

Have I mentioned how pleased I am with the Lord Scourge love circle here? Because I'm pretty pleased with it.

 

You know, I wasn't too impressed with Scourge at first, but after doing most of his companion quest...I'm starting to understand why he's loved. I still <3 Doc more though.

[Eanelinea]

This story attaches to my last JK fic.

 

Shots and Bonfires

JK - minor Kira spoilers

 

"Ok, what gives?"

Esma rolled her head across the pillow toward the door of her bedroom. Her bedroom, just hers. Nobody else's. Sigh.

"You've been moping for days," Kira said, walking in and picking up a bag that used to contain junk food.

"A girl can't mope?"

Kira raised an eyebrow.

"Fine," Esma said, sitting up in bed, "Doc and I are done. I filed for a divorce."

"Really?" Kira plopped down on the bed, "What happened? I mean other than the whole chasing-anything-in-a-skirt thing?"

Esma glared, "He's not that bad. Besides, I was wearing pants when we first met."

Kira rolled her eyes.

"We're just too different."

"No offense, but duh."

Esma threw a pillow at Kira who deflected it midair.

"So I'm guessing that's why he's on an extended vacation playing Doctor Hero."

"Listen, don't tell Rusk or T7, and pleeease don't tell Scourge."

"Okaaay, but don't you think they'll notice? On second thought, don't you think Scourge will notice?"

Esma sighed, "I'll tell them, but I want to do it myself. Well, don't WANT to, but I will. On second thought, maybe I can just never tell Scourge. Ever."

"Why?"

"Cause that would mean he was right about Doc. I hate when he's right about stuff," Esma pouted.

"You know what this means, don't you?"

Esma looked at the redhead cautiously. "What?"

"Girl's night! Makeovers, shots, and a bonfire of Doc's stuff!"

Esma groaned and buried her head under the pillow. Kira began tugging at her feet.

"Come on! It's tradition after a break-up!"

"Like you know anything about break-ups," came the muffled reply.

"Oh please, I spent my teen years on Nar Shaddaa."

Esma's legs were halfway off the bed at this point, although she was maintaining custody of the pillow.

"Come on, come on, come on!"

"You're really irritating when you're bouncy." She threw the pillow aside. "Fine, but we're not burning anything."

"Awww...."

"No."

 

"Shhhhhhhh....." Esma whispered none-too-quietly to an equally drunk Kira as they opened the hatch to the ship. "Don' wan' wake 'nybody."

"Sir!"

The women shrieked as the overhead lights were flipped on.

"Damnit Rusk! Don' you ever sleep?!?" Esma complained, shielding her eyes which were not adjusting to the light all that well.

"Sorry, sir, just doing my rounds," Rusk opened his mouth to ask a question relating to two drunk Jedi sneaking back on board in the middle of the night, but then shut it.

"I need sleep," Kira mumbled, keeping hold of the wall as she headed towards her quarters as Rusk determinedly did not look curious, "Water and sleep." She stopped and leaned against the wall. "Where you goin'?"

Esma tottered at the top of the stairs to the lower level, "Need to burn somethin'." She leaned against the doorframe. "Tha's how this goes, right?"

Kira nodded heavily, "Yep."

"Uh, sir, could I be of assistance?"

"Nope."

Esma half walked, half slid down the stairs. She tottered into Doc's medbay, looking around. She'd stashed all "their" stuff down here after the "talk." He'd left immediately for Coruscant so it was still all in boxes. She went through two boxes before she found it. A sentimental paper copy of their marriage license. Perfect.

"I assume you have a purpose for being down here?"

Esma frowned at Scourge who was standing in the doorframe with his arms crossed. "Doesn' 'nybody sleep round here?"

He waited in his I-can-stand-here-till-the-end-of-time way while he surveyed her new hair cut and clothes.

"Gonna burn this."

He raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. And how do you propose to do that?"

"Watchman," she said, pointing at herself, "I set things on fire."

"With a lightsaber," he said pointedly, eyeing her empty belt.

Esma pouted and sat back against the wall. "Poo."

"Are you certain you need to burn this particular paper tonight?"

"Marriage is done, license needs to go," she said, sadly staring at the paper.

Scourge went very still.

"Woops," she said, clapping a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. "Was gonna tell you...later."

He looked at her for another moment and then reached down and handed her his lightsaber.

Her drunk haze cleared for a moment as she struggled to her feet, focused on the saber. She lit it, the length red instead of her normal green. She focused, poured energy into the blade, temporarily overloading it, and then touched it to the paper. The license flamed in a brief bright light and then crumbled into gray ash just as quickly.

She shut it off and handed it back to him.

"Thank you."

"Do you still wish for him to live?"

"Yes," she frowned at Scourge, "I don't hate him."

She stumbled a little as she took a step toward the door, exhaustion hitting hard. The room was beginning to spin.

"You are such a strange creature, little Jedi."

The feel of a solid arm around her waist was the last thing she remembered until she woke, safe and snug, in her own bed the next morning. The headache was quick in coming.

 

 

Author's Note:

 

Finally got a story together. Took a lot longer than I normally do, but I kept blanking! I've got a number of rough stories kind of lined up in my files, but I couldn't think of any place to insert a "rite of passage" event that wasn't completely out of my timeline. And then I gave up and wrote another story with Scourge in it, (with a rite of passage of sorts), hehe.

 

God, I just want to squish Doc so much in this even though he's not. But I can see the Scourge love. Very nice! I really enjoyed this alot.

[Eanelinea]

First Impressions

 

Be Careful What You Ask For

Trooper (minor end-game non-trooper spoiler)

 

“What has gotten into you?!” Aric Jorgan stalked past Sana into their stateroom and threw his bag into the corner with unnecessary force. Sana smothered a laugh and leaned against the door frame.

 

“Whaaaat?” she said, as innocently as she could manage. Her lips twitched.

 

“That! That…thing!” he sputtered, jabbing a finger at the tiny white rakling bouncing at Sana’s feet. “I can’t believe you had the gall to go to a briefing with the Supreme Chancellor and her new trade advisers and bring THAT!”

 

“Aww, they loved him, just like you do,” she crouched down next to the growling critter and grinned up at six feet of seething Cathar.

 

“How we even have our commissions after your pet BIT SENATOR MORNAL’S LEG I have NO idea!!”

 

“It was just his ankle.”

 

“You..!” Aric threw up his hands and swung around to face the wall, hands on his hips and muttering to himself.

 

She stood up, shooed the rakling out of the room as she shut the door, and walked over to Aric, sliding her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his solid back.

 

“It’s killing you that you can’t cuss me out like one of your subordinates, isn’t it?”

 

“You would not believe how much I want to rip you apart right now,” he growled through clenched teeth, the muscles in his back tense.

 

Sana slipped around to face him. “Hm, sounds interesting.”

 

Aric went completely and utterly still, his eyes fixed on her, “Don’t push me.”

 

“Or what?”

 

It took no time whatsoever for him to smash her against the wall, his kiss full of pent up aggression, quickly ridding her of the armor she’d worn to the ill-fated briefing.

 

Some time later….

 

Sana woke up, tangled in sheets, with a muscled arm and leg pinning her down. She looked over at her mate, who was awake and watching her. He looked deep in thought.

 

"He's not on his best behavior in public..." he muttered rolling over and covering his eyes with his forearm.

 

"Hmm?"

 

"You said 'he's not on his best behavior in public' to the Supreme Chancellor."

 

"So I did," she said, snuggling up against him and yawning. He tucked his arm around her, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

 

"How long have you been trying to convince Saresh that Havoc Squad shouldn't be part of her publicity tour of the core worlds?"

 

"Going on nine weeks."

 

"Any luck?"

 

"Nope. I've tried, Garza's tried, heck, Admiral Revald apparently made a personal call to give her hell for even considering pulling us out of action for a political stunt."

 

"And you brought your pet rakling to a briefing."

 

"Poor thing was bored."

 

He turned his head to give her a long look. She gave him a tiny grin.

 

"Think she got the message?"

 

"What message would that be?" Sana blinked innocently, "That dangerous creatures sometimes embarrass their handlers when they take them places they shouldn't?"

 

"This could damage our reputation with the Senate."

 

"Saresh is too practical to cause us problems, everyone hates Mornal, and I think Cholden is sweet on me,” she said, sitting up and swinging her feet off the bed, “After the way he looked at me today, I'm sure I'll be getting a call from him soon. I wonder what I should wear...”

 

The low growl behind her was all the warning she had before an arm snaked around her waist, and she ended up right back where she wanted to be. She grinned up at Aric, “Too bad for him, I’m taken.”

 

"Yeah, too bad." His smile was intent as he lowered his head.

 

 

Author's Note:

 

I loves my grumpy brooding men.

 

Oh MY GOD!!!! Loved this soooo much! <3 Jorgan love to the max. I see Jorgan like this too. MMmm, forceful Jorgan on fem!Trooper. *homer drool* Oops. Sorry. AWESOME story! Please PLEASE write more of this!

[Morgani]

In private? My SW's Quinn is soooo aggressive, she gets rug burns from a metal deck.

 

In public? The Quinn you see is the Quinn she gets.

 

I agree completely that Quinn would be aggressive in private. Makes the heart go all a-flutter at the thought. As for Jorgan, I see him in his mid 30s, but seeing as he mentions the femtrooper as having served on the Outer Rim previous to her deployment to Ord Mantel, I see her as late 20s, so the age gap isn't so scandalous in my head. I had started a fic at one point of the trooper coming right out of the academy, but she proved to be too Mary Sue what with the nill experience and suddenly being leader of Havoc.

 

*edit in* Jorgan pretty much at one points tells you how old he is. 4 years in the academy and 7 in active service. Depending on the age the academy allows enrollment and assuming Jorgan enrolled as soon as he possibly could he'd be early 30s. I tack on a couple years serving on Ord Mantel though it's likely included in his tirade count.

Edited June 30, 2012 by Morgani

[Morgani]

This will be on the longish side so I'm breaking it up so no one gets overwhelmed. Fem trooper is my main, favorite romance and my on and off RP character so this is close to my heart, be gentle.

 

Characters:

Major Rendrik Poole, my male Vanguard

Lt Ipha Kodrevas, my female Commando

General Garza, Lt Mai, Dorne and Jorgan

 

 

R and R was a great thing. In little doses. And going on three weeks of the stuff was no little dose. His squad was restless, well maybe not Tanno Vik. He seemed to like cruising the cantinas every night, scaring the dancers. But for Forex, Elara and his XO Jorgan, it was high time to get back in the saddle. Wasn't there a war still going on? Wasn't the Republic's top specforce squad needed somewhere? He'd agree to bounce Sandpeople off Tatooine right about now.

 

Major Rendrik Poole tossed his pazaak cards on the table in front of him and sighed. The gorgeous blonde across the table from him smiled with patience.

 

“Does this mean you fold, then?” she asked with that fetching Imperial accent. Lieutenant Elara Dorne laid her winning hand face up on the table and smiled again when Poole got up with a disgusted sigh. “I take it we're finished.”

 

“I'm amazed you got through as many hands as you did,” came a voice from the weapons room. Captain Aric Jorgan had spent most of the rest time tucked away in there, polishing weapons and arranging ammo. The damn room sparkled.

 

“I'm tired of sitting around,” Poole sighed, rubbing his forehead with his big hand. He then transferred his hand to back of his neck and cracked it loudly in both directions. “I'm stiffening up, growing weak.”

 

“I don't think you will have any trouble with weakness of any sort,” Elara said with a chuckle as she cleaned up the deck and chips. The Human and Zabrak shared a smile and there would have been a kiss too if Jorgan hadn't chose that moment to come into the room.

 

The Cathar eyed them warily, immediately aware that he'd interrupted a moment. As much as he didn't agree with soldiers having love lives, he really didn't agree with squad members dating each other. But it wasn't his call to make and Poole and Elara kept it pretty low key. They were still deadly, efficient soldiers, and he supposed that was all that mattered.

 

He was saved from having to stammer some unfelt apology when the holocom in the middle of the room sparked to life. Poole had left the signal open, hoping someone would patch through with something to do. All three of them came to attention as Poole keyed in the image of Lieutenant Mai, General Garza's aide.

 

The pretty Mirialan looked surprised that she got straight through but covered quickly, offering them a smile. “Hello Major. Hope you got your fill of R and R because the General would like to see you here.”

 

Poole got interested right away. Garza usually didn't have a problem giving them orders over the comlink. This might be something big if she wanted to see them in person. “We're fueled up and ready to go.”

 

“Great. See you soon.” Lieutenant Mai broke the connection.

 

Poole regarded the holocom for a moment in silence. “Go wake up Vik. I'm going to make a heading for Coruscant,” he said as he headed for the bridge. Jorgan and Elara eyed each other then flipped a pazaak chip to see who would have the honor of waking up the hung over Weequay.

 

 

“Good, you've arrived,” General Garza said as Poole led his people into her office. “I won't waste anytime.” She nodded to Mai who turned on a holorecording on the desk. The image was frozen but showed a woman in her late twenties, hands on her hips and stance aggressive, facing off with a man who was trying to look smug over the fear that lit his eyes.

 

Garza circled the image then planted her hands on her desk. “The woman is Doctor Ipha Kodrevas. She's a military Lieutenant who had been reassigned to the Republic's R&D department on Corellia four years ago. While serving on Hoth, Kodrevas was severely injured in the line of duty and brought back from death with the use of cybernetics. Once enhanced, she thought faster than a computer and was able to download data files directly into the cyber core behind her left eye. In the field she was an exceptionally skilled combat medic and once she got behind the science, she's assisted in creating extraordinary steps in field medicine.”

 

Poole studied the woman closely. Holoimages were always washed out but he could see the cybernetics standing out on her forehead and around her eyes. They glowed with their own lights and Ipha had her hair back in a tight tail, accentuating them.

 

“Three days ago, the laboratory where Kodrevas was stationed was attacked by Imperials. Kodrevas and all personnel were taken captive. Lieutenant?” Mai reset the holorecording as Garza set them up. “It took some time to clean this up, they tried to wipe all the data but Kodrevas had amazing back up systems in place. This is the recording of the main labs when the Imperials invaded.”

 

There was the sound of blaster fire as three armed Imperials rushed by, herding stumbling scientists. From the side, Kodrevas appeared, blaster in hand, taking shots with her attractive face set in mind freezing rage. “One shot. One. Get out of my lab or I'm taking you apart and mailing you back to the Empire in tiny, bleeding pieces,” Ipha yelled at someone off camera.

 

There was a garbled answer, more blaster fire and the image warbled and jumped. There was a whirring sound and the next image was of Ipha and her team on their knees with less Imperials surrounding them, but holding them tight at rifle point. There was an Imperial commander standing in front of Ipha, his shoulder wounded. Anger was tight across his features as he cradled his injured arm. Ipha stared up at him defiantly, rage boiling behind her eyes and her mouth moved with no sound. He kicked her across the face. Leaning over her prone form he snagged her ponytail with one meaty hand and got into her bleeding face with a snarl.

 

“One more word out of you and I'll just gut you. Orders are for your cybernetics, not your body. You superfluous b***h!” He yanked her head back by the hair and Ipha growled.

 

“Did this whack-a-doodle just call me superfluous?” Ipha spat, her voice thin because her neck was tweaked so far back.

 

The commander produced a vibroknife from his leg sheath but went still when one of the Imperial shock troopers spoke. The modulated voice was hesitant. “I wouldn't, sir. She is wanted alive for interrogation if possible, sir. That is, if it's at all possible. Sir.” The solider was obviously expecting to be at the receiving end of the blade at any moment.

 

The commander flipped the knife handle in his hand. “Gag her. I'm going to make sure I'm there for your interrogation. You can make all the noise you want then. Simpleton. Get her out of here.”

 

“It was more interesting when you called me a superfluous b***h. Mostly because I was shocked you knew the word 'superfluous,'” Ipha sneered as she was yanked to her feet and a panel was affixed over her mouth. The troopers lead their prisoners away with Ipha going last. There was a rifle barrel pushed into the back of her head, not bothering to be gentle in prodding her along. The security footage ended there.

 

“Kodrevas is an asset to the medical program and was a good, loyal soldier. If possible, we need her rescued. But most important, and your priority mission is her cybernetics. All data is encrypted and encoded and it will take the Empire some time decipher them. As Ipha's cybernectic core is affixed to the circuits of her left eye, it was created to match her existing biological eye. If luck is with us, it would have take the Imps a couple days to figure out where her core was hidden and how to extract it,” Garza said, her eyes on the frozen image of Ipha being lead away.

 

Lieutenant Mai handed Poole and Jorgan datapads and holocubes. “All pertinent information on Lieutenant Kodrevas, her cybernetics, the facility she worked for, her projects and where she's being held are all right here. Good luck.”

 

“These are the kinds of things Havoc Squad does best. We'll get the Doctor back, General,” Poole said.

 

Garza nodded. “I have every faith. Dismissed.”

 

Elara familiarized herself with the prison facility Ipha had been transferred to on the way back to the ship, studying schematics, schedules, and prisoner handling as it was known. “When I submitted my article to the Medical Journal, Doctor Kodrevas contacted me by holo personally to discuss it with me. She also published a very positive and glowing review of my findings. She was very knowledgeable and personable. After speaking with her for an hour, I almost felt like we were friends.”

 

Poole laid a big hand on her shoulder for a moment, wanting to comfort her but knowing she would find it inappropriate in front of the rest of the crew. Having defected from the Empire, Elara was a bit of a black sheep. She had her rules and regulations, but if she connected to someone quickly, it was heartfelt.

 

“The Imperials are going to be very upset they made us come up there to get her back,” he said. “They're going to figure out they should have left well enough alone.”

 

“It will be nice to meet her face to face,” Elara said, reinforcing the hope that Ipha hadn't been killed yet. “I wonder if she'll remember me.”

 

“The woman's brain is a computer now,” Jorgan said as they approached the hanger. “She'll remember. No doubt.”

 

“Get us en route, Jorgan,” Poole commanded. Jorgan sir'ed him and immediately headed for the ship's bridge. Poole laid out all the information for the squad to study and memorize. No mistakes here. Kodrevas was walking out alive.

 

[kabeone]

... Morgani... you stopped THERE... whyyyyyyyy?

 

I loved it.

 

Edited June 30, 2012 by kabeone

[iamthehoyden]

This will be on the longish side so I'm breaking it up so no one gets overwhelmed. Fem trooper is my main, favorite romance and my on and off RP character so this is close to my heart, be gentle.

 

Characters:

Major Rendrik Poole, my male Vanguard

Lt Ipha Kodrevas, my female Commando

General Garza, Lt Mai, Dorne and Jorgan

 

 

R and R was a great thing. In little doses. And going on three weeks of the stuff was no little dose. His squad was restless, well maybe not Tanno Vik. He seemed to like cruising the cantinas every night, scaring the dancers. But for Forex, Elara and his XO Jorgan, it was high time to get back in the saddle. Wasn't there a war still going on? Wasn't the Republic's top specforce squad needed somewhere? He'd agree to bounce Sandpeople off Tatooine right about now.

 

Major Rendrik Poole tossed his pazaak cards on the table in front of him and sighed. The gorgeous blonde across the table from him smiled with patience.

 

“Does this mean you fold, then?” she asked with that fetching Imperial accent. Lieutenant Elara Dorne laid her winning hand face up on the table and smiled again when Poole got up with a disgusted sigh. “I take it we're finished.”

 

“I'm amazed you got through as many hands as you did,” came a voice from the weapons room. Captain Aric Jorgan had spent most of the rest time tucked away in there, polishing weapons and arranging ammo. The damn room sparkled.

 

“I'm tired of sitting around,” Poole sighed, rubbing his forehead with his big hand. He then transferred his hand to back of his neck and cracked it loudly in both directions. “I'm stiffening up, growing weak.”

 

“I don't think you will have any trouble with weakness of any sort,” Elara said with a chuckle as she cleaned up the deck and chips. The Human and Zabrak shared a smile and there would have been a kiss too if Jorgan hadn't chose that moment to come into the room.

 

The Cathar eyed them warily, immediately aware that he'd interrupted a moment. As much as he didn't agree with soldiers having love lives, he really didn't agree with squad members dating each other. But it wasn't his call to make and Poole and Elara kept it pretty low key. They were still deadly, efficient soldiers, and he supposed that was all that mattered.

 

He was saved from having to stammer some unfelt apology when the holocom in the middle of the room sparked to life. Poole had left the signal open, hoping someone would patch through with something to do. All three of them came to attention as Poole keyed in the image of Lieutenant Mai, General Garza's aide.

 

The pretty Mirialan looked surprised that she got straight through but covered quickly, offering them a smile. “Hello Major. Hope you got your fill of R and R because the General would like to see you here.”

 

Poole got interested right away. Garza usually didn't have a problem giving them orders over the comlink. This might be something big if she wanted to see them in person. “We're fueled up and ready to go.”

 

“Great. See you soon.” Lieutenant Mai broke the connection.

 

Poole regarded the holocom for a moment in silence. “Go wake up Vik. I'm going to make a heading for Coruscant,” he said as he headed for the bridge. Jorgan and Elara eyed each other then flipped a pazaak chip to see who would have the honor of waking up the hung over Weequay.

 

 

“Good, you've arrived,” General Garza said as Poole led his people into her office. “I won't waste anytime.” She nodded to Mai who turned on a holorecording on the desk. The image was frozen but showed a woman in her late twenties, hands on her hips and stance aggressive, facing off with a man who was trying to look smug over the fear that lit his eyes.

 

Garza circled the image then planted her hands on her desk. “The woman is Doctor Ipha Kodrevas. She's a military Lieutenant who had been reassigned to the Republic's R&D department on Corellia four years ago. While serving on Hoth, Kodrevas was severely injured in the line of duty and brought back from death with the use of cybernetics. Once enhanced, she thought faster than a computer and was able to download data files directly into the cyber core behind her left eye. In the field she was an exceptionally skilled combat medic and once she got behind the science, she's assisted in creating extraordinary steps in field medicine.”

 

Poole studied the woman closely. Holoimages were always washed out but he could see the cybernetics standing out on her forehead and around her eyes. They glowed with their own lights and Ipha had her hair back in a tight tail, accentuating them.

 

“Three days ago, the laboratory where Kodrevas was stationed was attacked by Imperials. Kodrevas and all personnel were taken captive. Lieutenant?” Mai reset the holorecording as Garza set them up. “It took some time to clean this up, they tried to wipe all the data but Kodrevas had amazing back up systems in place. This is the recording of the main labs when the Imperials invaded.”

 

There was the sound of blaster fire as three armed Imperials rushed by, herding stumbling scientists. From the side, Kodrevas appeared, blaster in hand, taking shots with her attractive face set in mind freezing rage. “One shot. One. Get out of my lab or I'm taking you apart and mailing you back to the Empire in tiny, bleeding pieces,” Ipha yelled at someone off camera.

 

There was a garbled answer, more blaster fire and the image warbled and jumped. There was a whirring sound and the next image was of Ipha and her team on their knees with less Imperials surrounding them, but holding them tight at rifle point. There was an Imperial commander standing in front of Ipha, his shoulder wounded. Anger was tight across his features as he cradled his injured arm. Ipha stared up at him defiantly, rage boiling behind her eyes and her mouth moved with no sound. He kicked her across the face. Leaning over her prone form he snagged her ponytail with one meaty hand and got into her bleeding face with a snarl.

 

“One more word out of you and I'll just gut you. Orders are for your cybernetics, not your body. You superfluous b***h!” He yanked her head back by the hair and Ipha growled.

 

“Did this whack-a-doodle just call me superfluous?” Ipha spat, her voice thin because her neck was tweaked so far back.

 

The commander produced a vibroknife from his leg sheath but went still when one of the Imperial shock troopers spoke. The modulated voice was hesitant. “I wouldn't, sir. She is wanted alive for interrogation if possible, sir. That is, if it's at all possible. Sir.” The solider was obviously expecting to be at the receiving end of the blade at any moment.

 

The commander flipped the knife handle in his hand. “Gag her. I'm going to make sure I'm there for your interrogation. You can make all the noise you want then. Simpleton. Get her out of here.”

 

“It was more interesting when you called me a superfluous b***h. Mostly because I was shocked you knew the word 'superfluous,'” Ipha sneered as she was yanked to her feet and a panel was affixed over her mouth. The troopers lead their prisoners away with Ipha going last. There was a rifle barrel pushed into the back of her head, not bothering to be gentle in prodding her along. The security footage ended there.

 

“Kodrevas is an asset to the medical program and was a good, loyal soldier. If possible, we need her rescued. But most important, and your priority mission is her cybernetics. All data is encrypted and encoded and it will take the Empire some time decipher them. As Ipha's cybernectic core is affixed to the circuits of her left eye, it was created to match her existing biological eye. If luck is with us, it would have take the Imps a couple days to figure out where her core was hidden and how to extract it,” Garza said, her eyes on the frozen image of Ipha being lead away.

 

Lieutenant Mai handed Poole and Jorgan datapads and holocubes. “All pertinent information on Lieutenant Kodrevas, her cybernetics, the facility she worked for, her projects and where she's being held are all right here. Good luck.”

 

“These are the kinds of things Havoc Squad does best. We'll get the Doctor back, General,” Poole said.

 

Garza nodded. “I have every faith. Dismissed.”

 

Elara familiarized herself with the prison facility Ipha had been transferred to on the way back to the ship, studying schematics, schedules, and prisoner handling as it was known. “When I submitted my article to the Medical Journal, Doctor Kodrevas contacted me by holo personally to discuss it with me. She also published a very positive and glowing review of my findings. She was very knowledgeable and personable. After speaking with her for an hour, I almost felt like we were friends.”

 

Poole laid a big hand on her shoulder for a moment, wanting to comfort her but knowing she would find it inappropriate in front of the rest of the crew. Having defected from the Empire, Elara was a bit of a black sheep. She had her rules and regulations, but if she connected to someone quickly, it was heartfelt.

 

“The Imperials are going to be very upset they made us come up there to get her back,” he said. “They're going to figure out they should have left well enough alone.”

 

“It will be nice to meet her face to face,” Elara said, reinforcing the hope that Ipha hadn't been killed yet. “I wonder if she'll remember me.”

 

“The woman's brain is a computer now,” Jorgan said as they approached the hanger. “She'll remember. No doubt.”

 

“Get us en route, Jorgan,” Poole commanded. Jorgan sir'ed him and immediately headed for the ship's bridge. Poole laid out all the information for the squad to study and memorize. No mistakes here. Kodrevas was walking out alive.

 

Bounce! Bounce! Bounce! Ooooo this is gonna be a good one...wants more please

[Tatile]

Morgani you must produce more, I insist. I am, as we say, intrigued.

[iamthehoyden]

Oh MY GOD!!!! Loved this soooo much! <3 Jorgan love to the max. I see Jorgan like this too. MMmm, forceful Jorgan on fem!Trooper. *homer drool* Oops. Sorry. AWESOME story! Please PLEASE write more of this!

 

Lol, glad you liked it. It's always kind of interesting seeing how relationships build when you have the traditional male-leader construct flipped. I like my pairs to be good solid equals, so there has to be some balance when you have a clear situation like this one where there is a command structure. So my Aric tends to call her out on stuff in private and can be downright aggressive sexually, but he respects his girl's smarts and judgment, even if she does have a tendency to try to fix things without asking for help. And besides finding him extremely sexy, my girl loves that she can relax around him, complain about Garza and politicians and the team, and he always ALWAYS has her back. They're still my favorite pair

[kabeone]

Hey elliotcat, if you want to update the index post here's the past 2 weeks.

 

6/15/12

Confessions

Tatile //2 //3

kabeone //2

bright_ephemera

Eanelinea //2

Magdalane

Earthmama

elliotcat

Striges // 2

iamthehoyden

RepublicGurl

Morgani

 

Allies

RepublicGurl

 

Hidden Talent

iamthehoyden

Earthmama

Crezelle

 

6/22/12 - Rites of Passage

Magdalane

Earthmama

kabeone //2 //3

Striges //2

Tatile //2 //3

elliotcat

Morgani

bright_ephemera

Crezelle

iamthehoyden

greyjedibp

RepublicGurl

[Striges]

I have to say, your SW is one of THE most complex and interesting characters I've come across. I mean, so much going on in his head and you fit it together beautifully. I'm always a little sad when I read these because he's caught in such a tight place, but man, well done!

 

I’m glad you enjoy them. The conflict between being a decent person and the kind of behaviour expected of a Sith is central to Varrel’s character. I imagined the Dark Side snared him through his passion for his craft and pride in his skills. The journey, that slow slide into darkness, is interesting to explore.

 

@ Morgani: I’m very intrigued and waiting to read the next episode.

[Taalbert]

First Impressions

 

Be Careful What You Ask For

Trooper (minor end-game non-trooper spoiler)

 

Love. LOVE IT! Must have more! Oh god, Aric. *stops self from rolling another trooper*

[Tatile]

Hey elliotcat, if you want to update the index post here's the past 2 weeks.

 

Oh my god, I'm terrible XD I've written three for so many of these! You'd think I'd be able to one that was a bit longer than 600 words.

 

Well :3 First Impressions is proving to be a bit longer, though I get the feeling the bit I've done has come to its natural conclusion.

 

I must say, I'm impressed that you're willing to put in the time to make such a list. Surely it must get annoying after a while (what with so many of us having multiple replies to a prompt)?

[kabeone]

Oh my god, I'm terrible XD I've written three for so many of these! You'd think I'd be able to one that was a bit longer than 600 words.

 

Well :3 First Impressions is proving to be a bit longer, though I get the feeling the bit I've done has come to its natural conclusion.

 

I must say, I'm impressed that you're willing to put in the time to make such a list. Surely it must get annoying after a while (what with so many of us having multiple replies to a prompt)?

 

It's no trouble at all, I constantly reread the stories everyone writes because a lot of them are linked together and I'm really bad with names. So I'd make an index for myself, I might as well share.

 

As to multiple short stories, those are so great. I feel sad when I can't get what I'm trying to say out in less than 1000 words. It's like "Stop rambling woman and get to the point!"

[Crezelle]

first impressions eh?

might get longish

 

femsmug, corso being a goober, femagent, crew

heavy agent spoilers, BH spoilers.

 

meh, i'll put it into 2 parts methinks since it getting long, and my attention span getting short

 

" Aww hell no, captain. You GOT to be kidding me. Your parents are WHAT, and you want us to VISIT them?! Did you land on your head the last time you got shot off your speeder?!" Corso was pacing around the games room on their ship, moving his tensed arms furiously as he tries to comprehend what was just said to him.

His in laws are imps.

After all these years, they finally touched base with his their daughter; his wife, and wanted to catch up.

As far as he was concerned, imps were born sporting demon horns at birth, and held dark, evil rituals where they drank the blood of freshly slaughtered kittens on a weekly basis. There was nothing any self respecting person could do with an imp except shoot them. Now he was told his wife was raised by imps, and that he had to follow her along to meet them. She offered to go alone, but there was no way he could risk that. He had to protect her! They might try and brainwash her, or feed her kitten blood, or...or SOMETHING bad. Whatever they wanted to see her for after all this time, it HAD to be evil!

He still dragged his heels. Dragged his heels and WHINED. The things she dragged him alongside for. The things he put up with. How in the galaxy does she manage to keep him following her despite it all?! Eventually he swallowed his pride, and accepted the fact he'd hopelessly follow her to the emperor's own tea party if it came down to it. They boarded a discreet, but elegant and sleek space yacht in a neutral space port, and he swallowed, gritted his teeth, and prepared to face all the horror stories he was told as a child to come true in front of him.

They met a middle-aged chiss woman, her skin a more vivid blue than Teumessia's, his wife, a scar ran down along the left side of her face. Oddly enough, no horns. Then again, all the imps he killed had no horns... maybe they hide them in daylight. Yeah. thats it. they hide them.

" Welcome, i am Crezelle, and you must be the young, handsome farmboy i kept hearing about on the holo~" she beamed. " You helped her get her ship back when she got stuck in republic space. I told her to keep a better watch on her ship, but, well you mustn't cry over spilt milk, not on my ship anyway. The fingerlings don't waste anything spilled. Well come on in, we don't bite. "

He stepped inside the ship, and hesitantly looked around every corner while his wife nudged her mom with her elbow as they both giggled at him.

" wait till he sees what's in the medbay."

" Please tell me he's not going to.... "

" Oh all right, i'll call him now and let him know not to scare your poor man half to death with his little 'ghoul trick. "

" Thanks, he's scared enough as is. I told you he thinks you used to feed me kitten blood as a child, right?"

" REALLY? ahahahahahaa"

 

 

 

 

[kabeone]

first impressions eh?

might get longish

 

femsmug, corso being a goober, femagent, crew

heavy agent spoilers, BH spoilers.

 

meh, i'll put it into 2 parts methinks since it getting long, and my attention span getting short

 

" Aww hell no, captain. You GOT to be kidding me. Your parents are WHAT, and you want us to VISIT them?! Did you land on your head the last time you got shot off your speeder?!" Corso was pacing around the games room on their ship, moving his tensed arms furiously as he tries to comprehend what was just said to him.

His in laws are imps.

After all these years, they finally touched base with his their daughter; his wife, and wanted to catch up.

As far as he was concerned, imps were born sporting demon horns at birth, and held dark, evil rituals where they drank the blood of freshly slaughtered kittens on a weekly basis. There was nothing any self respecting person could do with an imp except shoot them. Now he was told his wife was raised by imps, and that he had to follow her along to meet them. She offered to go alone, but there was no way he could risk that. He had to protect her! They might try and brainwash her, or feed her kitten blood, or...or SOMETHING bad. Whatever they wanted to see her for after all this time, it HAD to be evil!

He still dragged his heels. Dragged his heels and WHINED. The things she dragged him alongside for. The things he put up with. How in the galaxy does she manage to keep him following her despite it all?! Eventually he swallowed his pride, and accepted the fact he'd hopelessly follow her to the emperor's own tea party if it came down to it. They boarded a discreet, but elegant and sleek space yacht in a neutral space port, and he swallowed, gritted his teeth, and prepared to face all the horror stories he was told as a child to come true in front of him.

They met a middle-aged chiss woman, her skin a more vivid blue than Teumessia's, his wife, a scar ran down along the left side of her face. Oddly enough, no horns. Then again, all the imps he killed had no horns... maybe they hide them in daylight. Yeah. thats it. they hide them.

" Welcome, i am Crezelle, and you must be the young, handsome farmboy i kept hearing about on the holo~" she beamed. " You helped her get her ship back when she got stuck in republic space. I told her to keep a better watch on her ship, but, well you mustn't cry over spilt milk, not on my ship anyway. The fingerlings don't waste anything spilled. Well come on in, we don't bite. "

He stepped inside the ship, and hesitantly looked around every corner while his wife nudged her mom with her elbow as they both giggled at him.

" wait till he sees what's in the medbay."

" Please tell me he's not going to.... "

" Oh all right, i'll call him now and let him know not to scare your poor man half to death with his little 'ghoul trick. "

" Thanks, he's scared enough as is. I told you he thinks you used to feed me kitten blood as a child, right?"

" REALLY? ahahahahahaa"

 

 

 

 

I giggled through this whole thing, I could hear Corso saying every line. You must finish!

[elliotcat]

Hey elliotcat, if you want to update the index post here's the past 2 weeks.

 

6/15/12

Confessions

Tatile //2 //3

kabeone //2

bright_ephemera

Eanelinea //2

Magdalane

Earthmama

elliotcat

Striges // 2

iamthehoyden

RepublicGurl

Morgani

 

Allies

RepublicGurl

 

Hidden Talent

iamthehoyden

Earthmama

Crezelle

 

6/22/12 - Rites of Passage

Magdalane

Earthmama

kabeone //2 //3

Striges //2

Tatile //2 //3

elliotcat

Morgani

bright_ephemera

Crezelle

iamthehoyden

greyjedibp

RepublicGurl

 

Thank you so much!! <333

[Morgani]

Thanks so much for all the excitement of my *ahem* short trooper fic! People excited to read my stuff makes me excited to write it. And with Ipha being my girl (and Jorgan's) I really wanted everyone to enjoy her as much as I do. So, here's part 2 of First Impressions or How Am I Getting Out Of This One?

 

Poole, Ipha and Havoc Squad starring,

 

 

Jorgan was alone in the briefing room going over every bit of information on Doctor Kodrevas and the Imperial facility she was being held in. He committed schematics and floor plans to memory, figured Yuun was right about the best way to breach the security and concurred with Major Poole about the wing she was most likely being held in. But over and over he came back to the pictures in her file. There were three of them in her information. Her military ID photo which showed her face and cybernetic implants in crisp color and detail. One from her military days stationed on Tatooine, an auto cannon leaning up against her leg and her arm thrown around a small blue Twi'lek with a blaster rifle nearly as big as she was. Both women were smiling; the Twi'lek grinned like mad and pointed at Ipha with a slim finger. Ipha's smile was more a smirk, closed mouthed, mischievous. Sun shades were on her forehead which was smooth and not yet wired.

 

The third picture was the most recent. Ipha stood in a lab surrounded by equipment he couldn't even begin to name. The picture had been snapped without her being aware of it and her face was a mask of deep concentration as she regarded the twisted helix of some compound made three dimensional on a holo. She looked into the image as though the very mysteries of life were buried there and she was going to find them.

 

Jorgan would never admit it out loud but he found her distractingly attractive. Her hair was a glossy black which she seemed to commonly wear tied back in a tail. Shorter strands that refused to be tamed were pushed across her forehead and hung down her temples. Her eyes were a green he felt drawn too. They were darker than the nearly neon green of his eyes, more like a Voss forest at dawn. Her lips were full and naturally colored and...

 

He really needed to get back on track.

 

To Jorgan's immense relief, he had just flipped back to the prison's schematics when Poole walked in with Yuun. The Gand was speaking in his native language and Jorgan set the datapad down to concentrate on translating what was being said.

 

“Yuun has picked up transmissions already. The facility is on lock down as of five hours ago.” Yuun brought up a floor plan of the prison facility as he spoke.

 

“What's happened?” Jorgan asked.

 

“Doctor Kodrevas escaped her cell,” Yuun clicked and called up a holo recording. “This was intercepted an hour ago. Yuun has just finished decrypting it.”

 

The same Imperial commander who had captured Ipha, who Jorgan now knew was Commander Drans Livik, was addressing a prison transport ship that was in orbit around Ilum. “Hold your course. Once the prisoner is located and subdued you'll be allowed to land. As of now, there is no ship or personnel allowed in or out of the facility.”

 

Jorgan ran his hand over his head as he listened to Livik. “Any idea how she got out? Or how we're getting in now? Or how we're going to find her?”

 

Yuun's grinding clicks continued as he called up a part of Ipha's military record. “Yuun has found this in the doctor's file. Perhaps it is important.”

 

Poole stepped forward and read a loud, refreshing their memory. “Kodrevas lost her left arm on Hoth and it was replaced with cybernetics. Apparently a talent for slicing came with it. Huh, she's got hardware in her hand for slicing directly into interfaces. She's half damn droid. Yuun, how deep was this information buried in her files?”

 

“Yuun found this information under hard coded security clearances. Yuun doesn't believe the Empire would have had access to such information previous to their kidnapping the doctor.”

 

Poole listened to Yuun's grate and nodded slowly. “They didn't plan for that then.” He turned to Jorgan and the Cathar straightened to attention. “Get Dorne and Vik in here. Plans are going to need to change.”

 

“Sir,” Jorgan said as he clipped out immediately.

 

 

As soon as Havoc Squad was gathered, Poole wasted no time in informing them of Ipha's escape, the lock down and the new plan. They were less than twenty minutes out of Ilum's orbit, not a lot of time to fully prepare. But they'd manage.

 

“We're going to land here and speeder into the prison facility,” Poole said, lighting up a section of the map. “We're going to go in hard and fast, no choice in that now. Yuun will slice us into this entrance here, it's the closest to the wing we figured her to be kept in. Yuun thinks they've already extracted her cybernetic core so I’m willing to bet she's going to stick around the area until she finds a way to get it back. So we look here first. Two teams of three. Captain Jorgan, you take Vik and Forex through the prison and interrogation wings. See if there are other prisoners, especially other scientists from her lab. Ask if they know where she is. Make noise, try to draw her out of hiding.”

 

Jorgan nodded, acknowledging his orders.

 

“Lieutenant Dorne, Yuun and I will cover this area,” Poole marked a wing labeled Tech on the schematics. “If they've got her core anywhere it's probably here. As well as the information they may have already downloaded from it. That's our priority. With any luck, one of us will find her. Questions? Gear up. We move in 25 minutes.”

 

 

She was in so much trouble this time. It was one thing to be impulsive, quite another to have a death wish. But she refused to cower in her cell waiting for them to come take yet another go at her with their lasers and burners and whatever else they had used on her to try and get her to talk. She was surprised they hadn't pulled a Sith out of their back pockets so she could experience Force lightening first hand.

 

Ipha Kodrevas was not a woman who would lay down, roll over, or give up. Even if she just pissed them off for a few more hours, they may be likely to just out right kill her. Aside from the cybernetic eye and the core behind it that they had already taken, dead soldiers gave away no secrets. Ipha passed an exhausted hand over her face and tried not to think of how she was gambling on death. She was a soldier first and foremost, laboratories and experiments be damned. She signed on knowing that death was waiting just around the corner. It would come to greet her personally when it was ready, not when she was.

 

But she was weaponless, deep in the bowels of enemy territory and everything living and droid was looking for her. From her hiding spot she watched the security camera pan the hall and waited for the five second blind spot before moving again. She had only a vague idea of where she was and where they had taken her core. This would all be worth it if she could get to the Tech wing and erase both her core and slice into the computer that had the download from it.

 

Those sons of pig lizards were getting nothing from her and she was willing to die to make sure of it.

 

[Tatile]

First Impressions:

 

 

 

Broan was afraid. He did not have in his heart, not truly, to hurt a person. Surely, he thought; were they not in the wrong? Without warning, Captain Istier had ordered the crippled Imperial vessel boarded and its crew captured. That had been proven easier said than done. He was alone on the bridge of that ship now, his accompanying soldiers dead around him. Perhaps the rest of the parties were faring better. Lightsabre ready, he turned in a slow circle. He tried to focus on his lessons, to remember what he had been taught about fighting stealth opponents. It was almost disturbingly quiet on the bridge; even the hum of ship seemed subdued. After a moment he saw what he thought might be a good defensive position.

 

Pain burst in his elbow. The shock caused his to loosen his grip on his weapon. It was a momentary mistake, but one which could cost him his life. There was clatter and then something struck Broan in the face. After the blinding light subsided, he realised something: his lightsabre was gone. Cursing his foolishness, he grabbed a nearby chair. There was no sign of his opponent, but still he threw the chair. It smashed into a communications console, the satisfying thud aided by the Force. He was lucky. The console shuddered and released a wave of electricity.

 

"Impressive," The Lieutenant stood just to the side of the console, his stealth generator heavily damaged. Despite Broan's fervent wishes, the other man did not have his lightsabre. "Are you going to show me what else you can do?" He produced a knife and pistol. Broan could not help but think the Imperial was not taking this seriously. Was he simply not threatening? The Lieutenant was smiling at him; he seemed almost friendly. "Well?"

 

Broan launched some scrap from the semi-destroyed console. It would have been a debilitating blow, had it a chance connected. Alas, his opponent dodged with almost preternatural skill and disappeared. A fierce jolt of pain went out from his elbow as he grabbed another piece of metal from the console. Broan bit down, trying to concentrate against the pain, to ignore it. He again started his slow turn, keeping a keen grip on the metal, having it slowly rotate in the air. There was no stealth generator for the Lieutenant to hide behind now, which only left the ruined remains of the bridge. The emergency lights were flickering, alternately plunging the bridge into near-darkness or a dull red. Neither provided enough light to cast shadow. He widened his slow circle, cringing a moment when his shoe splashed in a puddle. Looking behind him, he knew it to be blood. The prone form of an Imperial naval woman was about to trip him up.

 

"Don't you care?" He spoke softly, more to himself than to his opponent. The woman might have been beautiful in life, but in death, her face was a contortion of rage and pain. He wanted to kneel down, to brush the hair from her face and put her at peace. There was still work to be down, however. Broan pitied these people, who were laying down their lives for such a worthless prize. Something changed; there was a slight movement in the dead woman's eye. Instinctively he released the held metal, shooting it off toward the viewing windows. There was a muffled curse. Broan had just enough time to see the Lieutenant fumble his pistol. He tore from the other man's grasp. "Don't you care!?"

 

"Busy." A flash of anger and contempt came over the Lieutenant's face. His body jerked. It was only a slight movement, but it was warning enough for Broan in his heightened state. He was able to deflect the grenade easily. It flew wide, exploding relatively harmlessly at the far end of the bridge. In spite of the deaths of his squad and the anger flaring in his gut, Broan did not want to kill this man. He leapt, taking advantage of a momentary weakness. It was clear that the Lieutenant was attempting to reassess his opponent, but Broan would give him no such chance.

 

They fell to the deck in a pile, Broan on top, the Lieutenant pinned to the floor. Though they were both of similar build, Broan had the advantage of his armour giving him weight. He caught the Imperial's right wrist, twisting it painfully, but avoiding any real damage. He thought, for a moment, that he had the advantage.

 

"Oh? Jedi carry spare lightsabres?" The Lieutenant wrapping his legs around Broan's waist accompanied his teasing tone. Broan blushed. He was being too easily distracted. Cold, sharp metal kissed his neck. It was a precarious position and Broan cursed himself again. The situation was not helped by the playful smile that greeted him when he looked down.

 

"Surrender."

 

"No?" The grip around his waist tightened, pulling him closer to the body beneath. Broan bent upwards, his back protesting from the awkward movement. The knife followed, staying at his neck. With his free hand, Broan groped for the knife arm, but the blade started to bite. He froze.

 

"You can't win. Surrender."

 

"Oh, I think I can." The knife pressed closer and Broan could feel it parting his flesh.

 

"I don't want to hurt you."

 

The look of contempt returned.

 

"Well, you could have fooled me," The sound of explosive charges interrupted their conversation. Broan flinched, shocked by the sudden noise. "Ah, my reinforcements." The Lieutenant rolled, taking advantage of Broan's surprise, and reversed their positions. His conceited look of triumph quickly turned to that of horror. Republic troops filled the door. Broan tried to grab the man, but a swift kick to the ribs dissuaded him. The Lieutenant only managed to put two steps between himself and his attackers when there was another explosion. It was smaller than the first, but it sent him flying. He hit the floor, cracking his head against the metal.

 

"Concussion grenade: non-lethal. He ain't harmed," The soldier walked over to assist Broan to his feet. He waved the woman off; he was enough of an embarrassment without needing help to stand. "Much." She rolled the Imperial over with the toe of her boot, keeping her gun trained on him, though he was clearly unconscious.

 

"Lt. R. Windthorpe." Broan was finally able to see the man who had caused him so much trouble: the man who had killed so many of his squad. Metal poles clamped into the man's skull behind his ear, partially hidden by dark red hair. He would be strikingly handsome, Broan idly considered, should the bruising recede.

 

"That's the one, take him aboard." Major Andrix motioned to two of her soldiers. A makeshift gurney was produced and the Lieutenant was rather unceremoniously loaded on.

 

"You know this man?" Broan took deep breathes, centring himself, calming his emotions. Major Andrix shrugged, an odd sight given her layers of armour.

 

"C'pain asked for him. Didn't say why. It matter?"

 

"Perhaps. Perhaps not," He wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to the remaining active consoles. "Is it possible to get these operational again? We should at least discover their reason for being in this region of space and why they were adrift."

 

Major Andrix laughed and her squad followed suit. "Already know the reason! Done up by a bunch of pirates, weren't they? On their way to bomb some orphanages, I'll grant. That's all Imps are good for. That and taking bullets," She waved her arm, making the complicated gestures that called for a slicer. "But, if you insist."

 

#

 

Broan winced at the slight burning sensation. The cut was only shallow, but the medics were not about to allow it to heal naturally. As one had said to him, 'there is a wealth of germs in space and your neck's an open invitation'.

 

"Where is the Lieutenant that was brought aboard? Is he not being treated for his wounds?" He rubbed the sore point on his neck, feeling the beginnings of a small scar. The medic looked at him, a small twinkle of mirth in his eyes.

 

"He wasn't too badly injured, so once we made sure he wasn't about to up and die on us, Major Andrix had him thrown in with the rest of them," There was a heavy click as the cauterising case was shut. "He did take a nasty bump to the head, of course. Still unconscious when they dumped him in there, from what I gather."

 

"I see, thank you Cilar." Broan could make out the man's quiet chuckles as he walked from the medical centre. In the corridor outside he turned, intending to go to the Absolution's bridge. It was some forty minutes away, through winding corridors designed to confuse and disorientate any boarders. Broan often walked the maze that was the ship, finding the aimless wandering to be a far more effective method of relaxation than traditional meditation. Half way to the bridge, he changed his mind and instead made his way to Master Ashari's quarters. After another hour or so of rambling corridors, he found himself in front of a non-descript door, situated in a rather mundane part of the ship.

 

"Hello again, Broan. I see you are doing well." Master Ashari approached the door from the other end of the corridor at the same time as he. Ever present at her side was the youngling Madisha. The pair of Miraluka looked at him expectantly.

 

"Master Ashari, I was wondering..." He faltered, suddenly unsure of why he had decided to see her. He stammered a moment, but Master Ashari merely smiled serenely and permitted him entrance. "Did you... where you aware that Captain Istier knows the recently captured Lieutenant Windthorpe?"

 

"Oh, she does not know him, Broan," Master Ashari sat behind her desk, folding her hands on the surface. Every movement she made was calculated: pure in its intent. Broan had always admired that quality of hers. Madisha sat on the floor in the corner and began to meditate. "No," Master Ashari continued. "Captain Istier merely wishes to further the goals of the Republic and so the capturing of the..." She paused, calling up information on the Imperial ship via her desk holo-projector. "Supreme Deliverance," She raised an eyebrow at this, the arch of which Broan could see clearly over her veil. "Was justified and required. Any indication that Captain Istier knew the Lieutenant or any other members of the crew prior to the boarding is mere conjecture."

 

Broan crossed his arms, unconvinced by Master Ashari's words. "I still believe that there is something that we are not being told about this ship."

 

"Be that as it may," Master Ashari followed him, her gaze level, as he paced about the room. "They were on a course set for the frontline fighting in this system, likely to provide support."

 

"With blankets and snacks?" Broan snapped, whirling to face her. He jabbed a finger at the data slides littering her desk. "This is a transport vessel, from the records we found they carry civilians as often as they do Sith. They weren't supplying weapons, not on a route littered with slavers."

 

"Slavers which are likely in the employ of the Empire. Calm yourself, Broan. Their vessel was crippled, we did them a service."

 

"By butchering their crew?"

 

"Major Andrix has already stated that the force used was necessary. The Imperials put up a stiff resistance, they do not surrender willingly."

 

Broan began his pacing anew, thinking the situation over. "I wish to see Lieutenant Windthorpe."

 

"He is currently being interrogated by Security Chief Jarel." Madisha's voice was quiet, but firm and sure. Broan froze in his pacing, aghast at this revelation.

 

"What for? We know the reason for the Supreme Deliverance's presence in this system."

 

"He has connections to a particular Sith Lord, one who is wanted for crimes committed in Republic space." Madisha did not raise her head to look at him and seemed to be still deep in meditation. Master Ashari said nothing, but her face suddenly became hard and her lips white.

 

He walked from her quarters without another word.

 

#

 

Metal connected with flesh. Rochester bit back a whimper, pulling away from the pain. The rod came down again, smacking into his back and shoulder. He lay on the floor, the cold metal of it pressed against his chest. His right arm was quite useless, but he was not sure why. There was a garbled command and again the rod hit him in the back. A shadow passed over his face before his head was yanked up, fingers digging into his scalp, unable to gain purchase on his hair. The Twi'lek spat in his face.

 

"Where is she?" He slammed Rochester's head against the floor. Stars danced in his eyes and he groaned in pain. "She's your mother, you little bastard, now tell me where she is!"

 

"Let it go, Jarel, she probably dumped as a bairn for not being 'sithy' enough." Major Andrix pushed herself away from the wall and walked over to the Imperial. She poked him in the side with her boot, indifferent to the pain it caused.

 

"Maybe if I hit him harder..." Jarel lifted his arm thoughtfully. He was well built; a life of hauling heavy weaponry had made his arms as thick as trees. Rochester braced himself for another blow.

 

"What in the Order's name is going on in here?"

 

Jarel dropped the rod. It bounced off Rochester's back and rolled onto the floor. Broan stood in the doorway struggling, and failing, to control his anger. Major Andrix regarded the Jedi for a moment before speaking.

 

"Jarel and I are conducting an interrogation, Master Jedi." She smiled, but her expression was far from friendly.

 

"No, you are not. Get out." He stepped into the room, squaring up against Jarel. Jarel turned to Andrix, chuckled, and walked out.

 

"Perhaps you should speak with Captain Istier, Master Jedi." Andrix purred in his ear as she left.

 

#

 

"They stripped him and beat him. That was not an interrogation, it was torture." Broan kept his hands crossed against his top lip, not looking at Master Ashari. He sat leaning on the medical bed and she stood beside him. The Lieutenant was cuffed to the bed. The precaution was unnecessary; however, it was unlikely he would be able to go anywhere. Though his wounds were not necessarily fatal, they were certainly debilitating. His right shoulder had been dislocated, his ribs bruised if not broken. Captain Istier had refused the use of a kolto tank, citing the myriad of her own troops who occupied them.

 

"He is the son of a Sith Lord and an Imperial, neither is easily broken."

 

"Ah yes, this ever present Sith Lord. Tell me, what exactly are her crimes if they permit this?" He gestured to the broken man who lay on the bed, his contempt of the situation evident.

 

"It is a long and complex history, Broan, and not one to be discussed here," Master Ashari turned, effectively cutting off Broan's retort. "Captain Istier." She nodded to the other woman in greeting and then promptly left the medical centre. Captain Istier watched her leave, saying nothing. They were in silence for a few long minutes.

 

"Did you know your patient here is awake?" She said at length, snatching the breathing mask from Rochester's face. Immediately a change came over the man, he started to claw at the sheets and fight against his restraints.

 

"Give that back." Broan stood, sending his chair screeching across the floor.

 

"Don't do this Master Jedi, you don't want to fight me on this." She braced her arm as her grabbed her wrist, keeping the mask.

 

"Oh, I think I do."

 

"Are you getting angry with me, Master Jedi?" She stared at him, infuriatingly calm. Her eyes were unnaturally cold, something Broan had not seen before; it reminded him of someone dead. "Has it ever occurred to you, that Master Ashari and the youngling Madisha bear a remarkable resemblance to each other?" There were notes of sorrow and anger in her voice, but they did not seem to be directed at anyone in particular.

 

"Put the mask back," His anger was getting the better of him and Broan allowed the Force to influence his words. Almost mechanically, Captain Istier complied, replacing the mask upon Rochester, allowing him to breather once more. "Get out." She left.

 

Wearied, Broan retrieved his chair and took up his vigil once more. Grey eyes met his as he turned to the man on the bed. He sighed under the continued scrutiny, but said nothing.

 

"Thank you."

 

 

 

Note:

This takes place several months before the events of Culture Shock, in case anyone was wondering.

 

P.S. It's only 2,781 words. It just looks longer >.>

[Morgani]

First Impressions:

 

 

 

Broan was afraid. He did not have in his heart, not truly, to hurt a person. Surely, he thought; were they not in the wrong? Without warning, Captain Istier had ordered the crippled Imperial vessel boarded and its crew captured. That had been proven easier said than done. He was alone on the bridge of that ship now, his accompanying soldiers dead around him. Perhaps the rest of the parties were faring better. Lightsabre ready, he turned in a slow circle. He tried to focus on his lessons, to remember what he had been taught about fighting stealth opponents. It was almost disturbingly quiet on the bridge; even the hum of ship seemed subdued. After a moment he saw what he thought might be a good defensive position.

 

Pain burst in his elbow. The shock caused his to loosen his grip on his weapon. It was a momentary mistake, but one which could cost him his life. There was clatter and then something struck Broan in the face. After the blinding light subsided, he realised something: his lightsabre was gone. Cursing his foolishness, he grabbed a nearby chair. There was no sign of his opponent, but still he threw the chair. It smashed into a communications console, the satisfying thud aided by the Force. He was lucky. The console shuddered and released a wave of electricity.

 

"Impressive," The Lieutenant stood just to the side of the console, his stealth generator heavily damaged. Despite Broan's fervent wishes, the other man did not have his lightsabre. "Are you going to show me what else you can do?" He produced a knife and pistol. Broan could not help but think the Imperial was not taking this seriously. Was he simply not threatening? The Lieutenant was smiling at him; he seemed almost friendly. "Well?"

 

Broan launched some scrap from the semi-destroyed console. It would have been a debilitating blow, had it a chance connected. Alas, his opponent dodged with almost preternatural skill and disappeared. A fierce jolt of pain went out from his elbow as he grabbed another piece of metal from the console. Broan bit down, trying to concentrate against the pain, to ignore it. He again started his slow turn, keeping a keen grip on the metal, having it slowly rotate in the air. There was no stealth generator for the Lieutenant to hide behind now, which only left the ruined remains of the bridge. The emergency lights were flickering, alternately plunging the bridge into near-darkness or a dull red. Neither provided enough light to cast shadow. He widened his slow circle, cringing a moment when his shoe splashed in a puddle. Looking behind him, he knew it to be blood. The prone form of an Imperial naval woman was about to trip him up.

 

"Don't you care?" He spoke softly, more to himself than to his opponent. The woman might have been beautiful in life, but in death, her face was a contortion of rage and pain. He wanted to kneel down, to brush the hair from her face and put her at peace. There was still work to be down, however. Broan pitied these people, who were laying down their lives for such a worthless prize. Something changed; there was a slight movement in the dead woman's eye. Instinctively he released the held metal, shooting it off toward the viewing windows. There was a muffled curse. Broan had just enough time to see the Lieutenant fumble his pistol. He tore from the other man's grasp. "Don't you care!?"

 

"Busy." A flash of anger and contempt came over the Lieutenant's face. His body jerked. It was only a slight movement, but it was warning enough for Broan in his heightened state. He was able to deflect the grenade easily. It flew wide, exploding relatively harmlessly at the far end of the bridge. In spite of the deaths of his squad and the anger flaring in his gut, Broan did not want to kill this man. He leapt, taking advantage of a momentary weakness. It was clear that the Lieutenant was attempting to reassess his opponent, but Broan would give him no such chance.

 

They fell to the deck in a pile, Broan on top, the Lieutenant pinned to the floor. Though they were both of similar build, Broan had the advantage of his armour giving him weight. He caught the Imperial's right wrist, twisting it painfully, but avoiding any real damage. He thought, for a moment, that he had the advantage.

 

"Oh? Jedi carry spare lightsabres?" The Lieutenant wrapping his legs around Broan's waist accompanied his teasing tone. Broan blushed. He was being too easily distracted. Cold, sharp metal kissed his neck. It was a precarious position and Broan cursed himself again. The situation was not helped by the playful smile that greeted him when he looked down.

 

"Surrender."

 

"No?" The grip around his waist tightened, pulling him closer to the body beneath. Broan bent upwards, his back protesting from the awkward movement. The knife followed, staying at his neck. With his free hand, Broan groped for the knife arm, but the blade started to bite. He froze.

 

"You can't win. Surrender."

 

"Oh, I think I can." The knife pressed closer and Broan could feel it parting his flesh.

 

"I don't want to hurt you."

 

The look of contempt returned.

 

"Well, you could have fooled me," The sound of explosive charges interrupted their conversation. Broan flinched, shocked by the sudden noise. "Ah, my reinforcements." The Lieutenant rolled, taking advantage of Broan's surprise, and reversed their positions. His conceited look of triumph quickly turned to that of horror. Republic troops filled the door. Broan tried to grab the man, but a swift kick to the ribs dissuaded him. The Lieutenant only managed to put two steps between himself and his attackers when there was another explosion. It was smaller than the first, but it sent him flying. He hit the floor, cracking his head against the metal.

 

"Concussion grenade: non-lethal. He ain't harmed," The soldier walked over to assist Broan to his feet. He waved the woman off; he was enough of an embarrassment without needing help to stand. "Much." She rolled the Imperial over with the toe of her boot, keeping her gun trained on him, though he was clearly unconscious.

 

"Lt. R. Windthorpe." Broan was finally able to see the man who had caused him so much trouble: the man who had killed so many of his squad. Metal poles clamped into the man's skull behind his ear, partially hidden by dark red hair. He would be strikingly handsome, Broan idly considered, should the bruising recede.

 

"That's the one, take him aboard." Major Andrix motioned to two of her soldiers. A makeshift gurney was produced and the Lieutenant was rather unceremoniously loaded on.

 

"You know this man?" Broan took deep breathes, centring himself, calming his emotions. Major Andrix shrugged, an odd sight given her layers of armour.

 

"C'pain asked for him. Didn't say why. It matter?"

 

"Perhaps. Perhaps not," He wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to the remaining active consoles. "Is it possible to get these operational again? We should at least discover their reason for being in this region of space and why they were adrift."

 

Major Andrix laughed and her squad followed suit. "Already know the reason! Done up by a bunch of pirates, weren't they? On their way to bomb some orphanages, I'll grant. That's all Imps are good for. That and taking bullets," She waved her arm, making the complicated gestures that called for a slicer. "But, if you insist."

 

#

 

Broan winced at the slight burning sensation. The cut was only shallow, but the medics were not about to allow it to heal naturally. As one had said to him, 'there is a wealth of germs in space and your neck's an open invitation'.

 

"Where is the Lieutenant that was brought aboard? Is he not being treated for his wounds?" He rubbed the sore point on his neck, feeling the beginnings of a small scar. The medic looked at him, a small twinkle of mirth in his eyes.

 

"He wasn't too badly injured, so once we made sure he wasn't about to up and die on us, Major Andrix had him thrown in with the rest of them," There was a heavy click as the cauterising case was shut. "He did take a nasty bump to the head, of course. Still unconscious when they dumped him in there, from what I gather."

 

"I see, thank you Cilar." Broan could make out the man's quiet chuckles as he walked from the medical centre. In the corridor outside he turned, intending to go to the Absolution's bridge. It was some forty minutes away, through winding corridors designed to confuse and disorientate any boarders. Broan often walked the maze that was the ship, finding the aimless wandering to be a far more effective method of relaxation than traditional meditation. Half way to the bridge, he changed his mind and instead made his way to Master Ashari's quarters. After another hour or so of rambling corridors, he found himself in front of a non-descript door, situated in a rather mundane part of the ship.

 

"Hello again, Broan. I see you are doing well." Master Ashari approached the door from the other end of the corridor at the same time as he. Ever present at her side was the youngling Madisha. The pair of Miraluka looked at him expectantly.

 

"Master Ashari, I was wondering..." He faltered, suddenly unsure of why he had decided to see her. He stammered a moment, but Master Ashari merely smiled serenely and permitted him entrance. "Did you... where you aware that Captain Istier knows the recently captured Lieutenant Windthorpe?"

 

"Oh, she does not know him, Broan," Master Ashari sat behind her desk, folding her hands on the surface. Every movement she made was calculated: pure in its intent. Broan had always admired that quality of hers. Madisha sat on the floor in the corner and began to meditate. "No," Master Ashari continued. "Captain Istier merely wishes to further the goals of the Republic and so the capturing of the..." She paused, calling up information on the Imperial ship via her desk holo-projector. "Supreme Deliverance," She raised an eyebrow at this, the arch of which Broan could see clearly over her veil. "Was justified and required. Any indication that Captain Istier knew the Lieutenant or any other members of the crew prior to the boarding is mere conjecture."

 

Broan crossed his arms, unconvinced by Master Ashari's words. "I still believe that there is something that we are not being told about this ship."

 

"Be that as it may," Master Ashari followed him, her gaze level, as he paced about the room. "They were on a course set for the frontline fighting in this system, likely to provide support."

 

"With blankets and snacks?" Broan snapped, whirling to face her. He jabbed a finger at the data slides littering her desk. "This is a transport vessel, from the records we found they carry civilians as often as they do Sith. They weren't supplying weapons, not on a route littered with slavers."

 

"Slavers which are likely in the employ of the Empire. Calm yourself, Broan. Their vessel was crippled, we did them a service."

 

"By butchering their crew?"

 

"Major Andrix has already stated that the force used was necessary. The Imperials put up a stiff resistance, they do not surrender willingly."

 

Broan began his pacing anew, thinking the situation over. "I wish to see Lieutenant Windthorpe."

 

"He is currently being interrogated by Security Chief Jarel." Madisha's voice was quiet, but firm and sure. Broan froze in his pacing, aghast at this revelation.

 

"What for? We know the reason for the Supreme Deliverance's presence in this system."

 

"He has connections to a particular Sith Lord, one who is wanted for crimes committed in Republic space." Madisha did not raise her head to look at him and seemed to be still deep in meditation. Master Ashari said nothing, but her face suddenly became hard and her lips white.

 

He walked from her quarters without another word.

 

#

 

Metal connected with flesh. Rochester bit back a whimper, pulling away from the pain. The rod came down again, smacking into his back and shoulder. He lay on the floor, the cold metal of it pressed against his chest. His right arm was quite useless, but he was not sure why. There was a garbled command and again the rod hit him in the back. A shadow passed over his face before his head was yanked up, fingers digging into his scalp, unable to gain purchase on his hair. The Twi'lek spat in his face.

 

"Where is she?" He slammed Rochester's head against the floor. Stars danced in his eyes and he groaned in pain. "She's your mother, you little bastard, now tell me where she is!"

 

"Let it go, Jarel, she probably dumped as a bairn for not being 'sithy' enough." Major Andrix pushed herself away from the wall and walked over to the Imperial. She poked him in the side with her boot, indifferent to the pain it caused.

 

"Maybe if I hit him harder..." Jarel lifted his arm thoughtfully. He was well built; a life of hauling heavy weaponry had made his arms as thick as trees. Rochester braced himself for another blow.

 

"What in the Order's name is going on in here?"

 

Jarel dropped the rod. It bounced off Rochester's back and rolled onto the floor. Broan stood in the doorway struggling, and failing, to control his anger. Major Andrix regarded the Jedi for a moment before speaking.

 

"Jarel and I are conducting an interrogation, Master Jedi." She smiled, but her expression was far from friendly.

 

"No, you are not. Get out." He stepped into the room, squaring up against Jarel. Jarel turned to Andrix, chuckled, and walked out.

 

"Perhaps you should speak with Captain Istier, Master Jedi." Andrix purred in his ear as she left.

 

#

 

"They stripped him and beat him. That was not an interrogation, it was torture." Broan kept his hands crossed against his top lip, not looking at Master Ashari. He sat leaning on the medical bed and she stood beside him. The Lieutenant was cuffed to the bed. The precaution was unnecessary; however, it was unlikely he would be able to go anywhere. Though his wounds were not necessarily fatal, they were certainly debilitating. His right shoulder had been dislocated, his ribs bruised if not broken. Captain Istier had refused the use of a kolto tank, citing the myriad of her own troops who occupied them.

 

"He is the son of a Sith Lord and an Imperial, neither is easily broken."

 

"Ah yes, this ever present Sith Lord. Tell me, what exactly are her crimes if they permit this?" He gestured to the broken man who lay on the bed, his contempt of the situation evident.

 

"It is a long and complex history, Broan, and not one to be discussed here," Master Ashari turned, effectively cutting off Broan's retort. "Captain Istier." She nodded to the other woman in greeting and then promptly left the medical centre. Captain Istier watched her leave, saying nothing. They were in silence for a few long minutes.

 

"Did you know your patient here is awake?" She said at length, snatching the breathing mask from Rochester's face. Immediately a change came over the man, he started to claw at the sheets and fight against his restraints.

 

"Give that back." Broan stood, sending his chair screeching across the floor.

 

"Don't do this Master Jedi, you don't want to fight me on this." She braced her arm as her grabbed her wrist, keeping the mask.

 

"Oh, I think I do."

 

"Are you getting angry with me, Master Jedi?" She stared at him, infuriatingly calm. Her eyes were unnaturally cold, something Broan had not seen before; it reminded him of someone dead. "Has it ever occurred to you, that Master Ashari and the youngling Madisha bear a remarkable resemblance to each other?" There were notes of sorrow and anger in her voice, but they did not seem to be directed at anyone in particular.

 

"Put the mask back," His anger was getting the better of him and Broan allowed the Force to influence his words. Almost mechanically, Captain Istier complied, replacing the mask upon Rochester, allowing him to breather once more. "Get out." She left.

 

Wearied, Broan retrieved his chair and took up his vigil once more. Grey eyes met his as he turned to the man on the bed. He sighed under the continued scrutiny, but said nothing.

 

"Thank you."

 

 

 

Note:

This takes place several months before the events of Culture Shock, in case anyone was wondering.

 

P.S. It's only 2,781 words. It just looks longer >.>

 

 

Wow. That's all I have to say. Let me go process.

[iamthehoyden]

Thanks so much for all the excitement of my *ahem* short trooper fic! People excited to read my stuff makes me excited to write it. And with Ipha being my girl (and Jorgan's) I really wanted everyone to enjoy her as much as I do. So, here's part 2 of First Impressions or How Am I Getting Out Of This One?

 

Poole, Ipha and Havoc Squad starring,

 

 

Jorgan was alone in the briefing room going over every bit of information on Doctor Kodrevas and the Imperial facility she was being held in. He committed schematics and floor plans to memory, figured Yuun was right about the best way to breach the security and concurred with Major Poole about the wing she was most likely being held in. But over and over he came back to the pictures in her file. There were three of them in her information. Her military ID photo which showed her face and cybernetic implants in crisp color and detail. One from her military days stationed on Tatooine, an auto cannon leaning up against her leg and her arm thrown around a small blue Twi'lek with a blaster rifle nearly as big as she was. Both women were smiling; the Twi'lek grinned like mad and pointed at Ipha with a slim finger. Ipha's smile was more a smirk, closed mouthed, mischievous. Sun shades were on her forehead which was smooth and not yet wired.

 

The third picture was the most recent. Ipha stood in a lab surrounded by equipment he couldn't even begin to name. The picture had been snapped without her being aware of it and her face was a mask of deep concentration as she regarded the twisted helix of some compound made three dimensional on a holo. She looked into the image as though the very mysteries of life were buried there and she was going to find them.

 

Jorgan would never admit it out loud but he found her distractingly attractive. Her hair was a glossy black which she seemed to commonly wear tied back in a tail. Shorter strands that refused to be tamed were pushed across her forehead and hung down her temples. Her eyes were a green he felt drawn too. They were darker than the nearly neon green of his eyes, more like a Voss forest at dawn. Her lips were full and naturally colored and...

 

He really needed to get back on track.

 

To Jorgan's immense relief, he had just flipped back to the prison's schematics when Poole walked in with Yuun. The Gand was speaking in his native language and Jorgan set the datapad down to concentrate on translating what was being said.

 

“Yuun has picked up transmissions already. The facility is on lock down as of five hours ago.” Yuun brought up a floor plan of the prison facility as he spoke.

 

“What's happened?” Jorgan asked.

 

“Doctor Kodrevas escaped her cell,” Yuun clicked and called up a holo recording. “This was intercepted an hour ago. Yuun has just finished decrypting it.”

 

The same Imperial commander who had captured Ipha, who Jorgan now knew was Commander Drans Livik, was addressing a prison transport ship that was in orbit around Ilum. “Hold your course. Once the prisoner is located and subdued you'll be allowed to land. As of now, there is no ship or personnel allowed in or out of the facility.”

 

Jorgan ran his hand over his head as he listened to Livik. “Any idea how she got out? Or how we're getting in now? Or how we're going to find her?”

 

Yuun's grinding clicks continued as he called up a part of Ipha's military record. “Yuun has found this in the doctor's file. Perhaps it is important.”

 

Poole stepped forward and read a loud, refreshing their memory. “Kodrevas lost her left arm on Hoth and it was replaced with cybernetics. Apparently a talent for slicing came with it. Huh, she's got hardware in her hand for slicing directly into interfaces. She's half damn droid. Yuun, how deep was this information buried in her files?”

 

“Yuun found this information under hard coded security clearances. Yuun doesn't believe the Empire would have had access to such information previous to their kidnapping the doctor.”

 

Poole listened to Yuun's grate and nodded slowly. “They didn't plan for that then.” He turned to Jorgan and the Cathar straightened to attention. “Get Dorne and Vik in here. Plans are going to need to change.”

 

“Sir,” Jorgan said as he clipped out immediately.

 

 

As soon as Havoc Squad was gathered, Poole wasted no time in informing them of Ipha's escape, the lock down and the new plan. They were less than twenty minutes out of Ilum's orbit, not a lot of time to fully prepare. But they'd manage.

 

“We're going to land here and speeder into the prison facility,” Poole said, lighting up a section of the map. “We're going to go in hard and fast, no choice in that now. Yuun will slice us into this entrance here, it's the closest to the wing we figured her to be kept in. Yuun thinks they've already extracted her cybernetic core so I’m willing to bet she's going to stick around the area until she finds a way to get it back. So we look here first. Two teams of three. Captain Jorgan, you take Vik and Forex through the prison and interrogation wings. See if there are other prisoners, especially other scientists from her lab. Ask if they know where she is. Make noise, try to draw her out of hiding.”

 

Jorgan nodded, acknowledging his orders.

 

“Lieutenant Dorne, Yuun and I will cover this area,” Poole marked a wing labeled Tech on the schematics. “If they've got her core anywhere it's probably here. As well as the information they may have already downloaded from it. That's our priority. With any luck, one of us will find her. Questions? Gear up. We move in 25 minutes.”

 

 

She was in so much trouble this time. It was one thing to be impulsive, quite another to have a death wish. But she refused to cower in her cell waiting for them to come take yet another go at her with their lasers and burners and whatever else they had used on her to try and get her to talk. She was surprised they hadn't pulled a Sith out of their back pockets so she could experience Force lightening first hand.

 

Ipha Kodrevas was not a woman who would lay down, roll over, or give up. Even if she just pissed them off for a few more hours, they may be likely to just out right kill her. Aside from the cybernetic eye and the core behind it that they had already taken, dead soldiers gave away no secrets. Ipha passed an exhausted hand over her face and tried not to think of how she was gambling on death. She was a soldier first and foremost, laboratories and experiments be damned. She signed on knowing that death was waiting just around the corner. It would come to greet her personally when it was ready, not when she was.

 

But she was weaponless, deep in the bowels of enemy territory and everything living and droid was looking for her. From her hiding spot she watched the security camera pan the hall and waited for the five second blind spot before moving again. She had only a vague idea of where she was and where they had taken her core. This would all be worth it if she could get to the Tech wing and erase both her core and slice into the computer that had the download from it.

 

Those sons of pig lizards were getting nothing from her and she was willing to die to make sure of it.

I can't wait to read more of this!! I love troopers in general, but I really love the way you have this set up!! (And I think your trooper went to the same hair stylist as my trooper, lol.) And a big <3 to Jorgan

[iamthehoyden]

First Impressions:

 

Note:

This takes place several months before the events of Culture Shock, in case anyone was wondering.

 

P.S. It's only 2,781 words. It just looks longer >.>

 

Thank you for this, I was very curious as to how a Jedi who wasn't rolling in the Dark side had ended up with the Sith. Well done!

[Tatile]

Thank you for this, I was very curious as to how a Jedi who wasn't rolling in the Dark side had ended up with the Sith. Well done!

 

It's surprisingly hard to write a sort-of Light Side Jedi, who is trying really hard to be the ideal of what a Jedi is, realistically become a Sith. It's trying to find the balance of becoming disgusted with the inherent corruption and hypocrisy that he sees surrounding him in the Republic and then him going to the Empire where such things are in the open and to be expected. I think it's mentioned in other threads of Sith versus Jedi, that Sith are straight-forward, you know where you stand with them; you can't always tell if a Jedi is being sincere.

 

At some point I'm going to add in the rest of the scenes and create The Taking of The Supreme Deliverance, but I do need to work out a feasible way of getting Broan back to Dromund Kaas in one piece that it's some mad deus ex machina. I think first I want to do the Health prompt, which may explain some of what's alluded to in First Impressions.

[RodericHawker]

I've been reading a lot of the fics here and decided to try my hand at it.

Health

Set between Taris and Nar Shadaa

 

 

The Past or Adroxian Flu

“AAAaaaaaaaahh,” the sharp inhale of breathe came from Corso, but quickly died down when he plugged his nose. “AAAchoooo,” he sneezed just as quickly when he removed his hand from his nose. A woman beside him shook her head and sighed “You should really cover your mouth you know.”

 

“Sorry, Risha, don’t want you to catch what I got, but that sneeze came out of nowhere.”

 

“I’m more worried about catching your stupid than your flu.”

 

A snicker came from behind has the captain of the ship strode into the room. “She got you good, Corso, she’s also right, you got the Adroxian flu.”

 

“You have the flu” Risha corrected.

 

“Dammit,” Corso sighed defeated “All that work to restore Taris and I get a flu as a reward.”

 

“Hey, we got credits too.” Captain Vreed replied as if anyone aboard the ship needed to be reminded that the Captain did nothing without a reward.

 

“Besides, I know some flu remedies, I’ll whip you up a batch and you’ll be shootin’ Imperials again in no time.”

 

“Hold up,” Risha chimed in “you know how to deal with a flu, I figured you for a guy who couldn’t cook, clean, or do, well” she paused trying to think of something insulting, nothing came to mind so she continued regardless “anything … outside of shooting and making money of course.”

 

“There’s a lot of things I could show you about me, Risha.”

 

“There are, a lot of things, and quite frankly Captain, I know a lie when I hear one; with that gem, I’ll get back to Astrogation Chart.”

 

It was Corso’s turn to snicker after that.

 

Vreed returned with an opaque liquid that had Corso worried.

 

“That’s not gonna kill me, is it Captain?”

 

“Don’ worry, I’ve had a lot of experience with minor colds and the like, also , I add honey to help cover the horrid taste of this stuff.”

 

Corso took the glass and downed it as quickly as possible, trying not to taste any of it. Unfortunately, you tend to taste things you eat and drink. Poor Corso gagged on the foul tasting liquid and had to use all his willpower to keep it down.

 

“Vreed,” Corso suddenly yelled out, eschewing “Captain” out of sudden shock “that was … it was just …, “ he trailed off placing his palm squarely on his forehead in disgust.

 

“I didn’ say it tasted good, just that the honey masks the taste some, it’s so much worse without it.”

 

“What is in that so called ‘remedy’?” Corso had to use air quotes to accurately express how much he thought that whatever he just drank wasn’t a cure.

 

“You don’ wanna know.” Vreed replied almost on top of Corso’s question. Vreed continued “Look, just lay down for a bit you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

 

As if on cue Risha passed by the duo “Lie down, Captain.”

 

Corso awoke a few hours later, and much to his shock, he felt much better. He began to lightly jump about, then added a bit of gyrating and a pelvic thrust for good measure “Yeaha, no stupid flu can keep an Ord Mantell boy down.”

 

“So uh, I take it that your little jig means you’re feeling better.”

 

“Oh ****, uh, hey Risha.”

 

“Don’ forget me buddy.” Vreed called out as ha slipped in passed Risha.

 

“I was just, you know, uh… Oh, hey Captain where’d you learn to cure flu’s like that.”

 

“My mom, now don’t change the subject.”

 

“Actually I like that subject.” Risha came to Corso’s defense “what’s your mom like Captain.”

“My mom’s big, Zabrak, and in the military, now I wanna know where Corso learned to dance.”

 

“Wait up, your mom’s Zabrak, you look completely human, do you have two hearts maybe, or tiny horns? Corso was more than happy to not have to talk about his dancing skills, or lack thereof, and so would ask any question to keep the Vreed from changing the subject not. That isn’t to say he’s not interested in his Captain’s past, just more interested in not talking about his “jig”

 

“Ugh, no I’m completely human.”

 

“Got any siblings, what’s your mom do exactly, your dad too?” Corso continued.

 

“Look…” Vreed began but was interrupted by Risha “Come on Captain, you got something to hide?”

 

“You’re not one to talk Risha, but fine I’ll tell you both if it’ll get you off my back.” Vreed sighed defeated “Abridged version only though, I spent my youth on Coruscant, my mom was a stay at home mother, she was from a less than settled area of Iridonia so she lacked any knowledge in the way of modern tech or jobs. My dad was an engineer, he kept Coruscant runnin’; I’m the eldest child with a little brother and sister. My sis, Eshah, was takin’ to the Jedi Order when I was ten. Dad disappeared two years after that.” Vreed paused for a bit, he gazed down suddenly finding his shoes particularly interesting.

 

Corso spoke up, “I’m sorry, Captain, I didn’t mean to drudge up old wounds.”

 

Risha continued after Corso “I know the feeling, Captain.”

 

“Don’t worry about it, that was ten years ago. Besides I think I already got vengeance. Dad disappeared when he was called down to do some job in ‘The Works’.” Vreed turned towards Risha to explain, “While on Coruscant Corso and I cut a swath through Imperial forces who’d been hiding out in ‘The Works’ since the Treaty, I’m sure they had something to do with Dad’s death.”

 

“Heh, you should’a told me Captain, I’m glad to have returned the favor for you helpin’ me take down Seperatists on Ord Mantell.”

 

“So should I leave you two alone, or can I stay and watch you both kiss.” Both Corso and Vreed stared at Risha.

 

“What, I personally think it would be hot if you kissed, just throwing that out there.”

 

“Anyway…” Vreed continued, still looking at Risha oddly “We had financial difficulties without Dad, so I did some odd jobs to help out and eventually just left when I was sixteen. I figured, one less mouth to feed right? I was part of a pirate crew for a little while, learned to use a Vibroblade pretty good”

 

Risha interrupted “learned to use a Vibroblade well.”

 

“Whatever, that’s how a lost my eye, got in a good scrape with some freighter Captain who knew his way around a Vibroblade, had to get bailed out by my boss. Eventually I stole enough cash from the Hutt Cartels to buy my baby” Vreed accentuated “my baby” by patting the walls of his ship. “The rest is history.”

 

“You never mentioned what you little brother does, or exactly what your mom does.” Corso pointed out.

 

“Oh, well, my little bro joined the military for a bit, but quit after his year was up, he became a bounty hunter after that. My mom just got some big promotion, leading some squad now I think.”

 

“Sounds like heroism and stupidity run in your family Captain.”

 

“Way to point out the obvious Risha.” Vreed countered.

 

“One of my many talents; anyway, Nar Shadaa is coming up you farm boy here should get ready.”

 

“You ready to bust some heads Captain?”

 

“Always.”

 

 

Hopefully it's not too bad, the story kind of ran away with from me, and the health theme. Also for those who care his Vreed's dad isn't dead, he was captured and became the Sith Inquisitor.