The Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread!

[marissalf]

So excited about this week's prompt! At some point this week I'm going to do something for it, but I had to get this one out first, since it's been almost finished for a while.

 

Worst Day Ever (with a little bit of Failure) with Mel and Gault

Title: Not Forgotten

Picking up Mel’s story, this takes place immediately after The Good Fight.

To recap (for those just joining us and since I've skipped around a bit):

Mel went out to track down Ellis Lokin, who was working on a way to keep Mel (and himself) from being joined to the killik hive mind because of certain genes they inherited from their Joiner parents. Ellis had been lured into the dessert by his mother, whom he believed dead. When Mel found Ellis, he’d finally started to succumb to the latent killik pheromones and begged Mel to kill him just after he became a Joiner. For a better recap and other relevant stories, see the Story So Far, Whispers In the Dark, and The Good Fight.

 

 

“Welcome back, Red.”

 

Mel opened a tired eye and squinted up at Gault, too exhausted to bust him about the nickname. She was mostly just grateful she could open her eyes without sand scratching the back of the lids. It seemed that the small victories were about the only ones that came these days.

 

At some point she’d made it back to the Elektra. At some point she’d wrapped herself in a blanket and crashed on the sofa, not bothering to remove any of her armor. She had no memory of any of it. The ride back through the desert was a blur of sand and starlight. All of it punctuated by Ellis’ face burnished into her consciousness. The sad, placid expression paired with the lifeless black eyes. The image refused to disappear. She didn’t remember why it hadn’t been worth the effort to crawl into bed and forget, just that she feared the things that sleep might bring.

 

Gault brushed a generous amount of sand from the sofa and sat next to her. “Didn’t see the doc in his bunk. You let him have the good bed tonight?”

 

Mel shook her head.

 

“You’re gonna break those if you keep up that death grip.”

 

Mel looked down at her hands, unaware that she had anything in them at all. “His glasses,” she mumbled, startled by the rough timbre of her voice. She felt like she’d swallowed half the dessert on the way back to civilization. Sounded like it, too. “I couldn’t leave them.”

 

“Then he’s...”

 

She returned her gaze to the muted holovid flickering across the room and nodded.

 

“And you’re...”

 

“Destined to become the thing I fear most?” Another weary bob of the head. Watching Ellis change and beg for death was the single most horrifying experience she had been through. She never thought it would come to that. Never expected him not to come through for her.

 

She shook her head, disgusted that it sounded like she blamed him. She didn’t. It was just the exhaustion talking. In her heart she couldn’t be angry with him, not now. Ellis had done everything he could to fight the killiks’ hold over them, to help her. It wasn’t his fault it wasn’t enough.

 

"I didn't love him," she said quietly. Mel wasn’t sure why she told Gault that. It was mostly just rambling to stay awake, to keep her mind off of past and future. "It's just that I feel… I feel... I don't really know."

 

She lovingly ran a finger down the rim of Ellis’ glasses, remembering the way he’d squint and adjust the frames whenever he was really engrossed in something. Which was most of the time. The man was never without a book or a datapad. But then she’d interrupt, and he’d completely disengage to fix his gaze on her. Deep blue eyes that crackled with intensity and life. She frowned at the droplet that spattered against the lens. The glasses were the only tangible thing left of him. "I feel responsible, I guess."

 

Mel nearly flinched at the warmth that brushed against her hand. Gault’s gentle pat was unexpectedly kind and somehow too brief. He withdrew quickly, but the memory of that kindness wouldn't fade so quickly.

 

"The promise of family after all those years? There was nothing you could have done. He would have gone out there regardless of anything you'd said. And I know I'm right. Not just because I’m usually always right, but because you would have done the same."

 

"But he was here because of me. Stayed because I—" She swallowed the words before they had a chance to spill out and hang in the air. Mel didn't want to talk to Gault about her nights with Ellis. Not that he didn't know. Him and everyone else. But it was too raw a nerve to tap just then. "He stayed for me. And I should have dropped him off as soon as mom was well."

 

"You and I both know he wouldn't have left. Regardless of whether he’d gotten close to you."

 

"No. You’re probably right." A small smile played at her lips. He wouldn't have gone. It was arrogant to think he'd only stayed because of his infatuation. He'd had as much on the line as she did, and for a lot longer. And she'd promised him things too tantalizing to turn down — hope and answers. A fitting reward for making her life whole again. If it were possible to replay the past few months, she knew she'd make the same deal. Keep the same promises. "He was so much better than any of us let him be."

 

Gault got up to leave her to the grief. Never in all the time that he'd known her had she wanted anyone to see her cry. He couldn’t comfort her, but he could giver her that. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

 

"Wait."

 

She wasn't sure what she wanted from him or why his leaving had made her tense up. But seeing him stop in the doorway and turn back quieted her mind just a little. "Stay with me a while? I just need to distract my brain for a bit."

 

The Devaronian’s answering smile was softer than usual. Understanding. "You're in luck. Fantastic distractions are my specialty."

 

 

Edited February 15, 2014 by marissalf

[TrystanLaryssa]

@Marissalf: An achingly beautiful piece. Interestingly I think what stood out to me the most was the focus on his glasses... such a part of him, an easy trigger for memories. (Kind of a pity there are none in game...) It rings very true though... when something happens, you want something to hold onto to keep those memories clear in your mind, a focus of some sort. I liked the honesty of that.

[DarthSillyMonkey]

A quick, Marissalf flavored comment..

 

 

Wow, that was awesome! After all she's been though, and then to have to watch what she may become one day... man, I can understand why Mel wouldn't want to sleep. Maybe ever. And then to have Gault be the comfort giver, brilliant. He really grows on you after awhile.

 

 

Now, a quick break from the story in progress for this week's prompt.

 

Prompt: Love Letters and Secret Valentines

Class: Bounty Hunter (Drokk'it)

Title: Letters from the Sock Drawer

Words: 2200'ish

Timeframe: After Ch.3 and this.

Spoilers: An event if you romance Mako has taken place by this time. Not sure if it needs spoiler alerts, but better safe than sorry.

 

 

The hail of blaster fire was being somewhat absorbed by Drokk'it's personal shield generator, the rest he weathered with his armor and experience. The mark had a small crew with him, and there was no cover between their barricade, and the doorway he was standing in. Mako had his back, so things weren't too bad... until he felt a shot hit him in the rear.

 

He backed out of the doorway quickly. How the frag did they get behind me?! No one should be back there but--

 

"Dammit Makes! You're supposed to be my medic, not my assassin!"

 

The petite, blond haired slicer looked at him with... something that wasn't exactly a glare, but pretty close.

 

"Yeah, sorry about that" she replied flatly. "Wild shot."

 

He cocked an eyebrow at his wife, "... Right. Let's just finish this and get back to the ship."

 

Drokk rounded the corner and entered the doorway again, this time firing a series of rockets from his wrist as his jet pack lifted him into the air, giving him a better vantage point. The explosions rocked the ground, and the mark and his crew were knocked off their feet.

 

He landed and ran forward, the blaster fire halted momentarily while the three gunmen picked themselves up off the ground. As he advanced, he took another shot to his rear. He stumbled, and almost fell.

 

Fraggin...! "Makes, whose damn side are you on?!"

 

"Accident", she said, her tone still flat.

 

"What in the he-- never mind! Just cease fire and keep me alive!" He leveled his wrist flamethrower at the barricade, spewing a gout of flame over the top of it, and igniting the edges. The mark and his crew scattered.

 

Drokk launched a stun dart into the mark's back, a missile at the other two, knocking them off their feet. The mark's body spasmed, and fell to the ground convulsing. He quickly gunned down the two crew members before they could stand up, spun and advanced on the mark... and took yet another shot to his rear.

 

"Put. The gun. Away. NOW!" he roared without turning around. He was now limping to the no longer convulsing mark. He dropped a knee into his back, driving the mark back into the ground, hard. What should've been a routine collar had turned into an actual fight, and he was not happy about it.

 

"Now, you mind telling me what your prob--" he turned around, but Mako was gone. He exhaled roughly.

 

"You having *cough* problems with your *cough* girl?" The mark, who was a small Rattataki man, asked.

 

"Ain't none of your damn business" He stood up weakly, and produced a med kit from his belt pouch.

 

The Ratattaki rolled onto his back, "Listen man, I know people, right? You let me go, I can get you a dozen Dathomirian orchids! Very rare, man. Plus? The pollen has this effect on human women. Makes them aggressive as a Nexu in he-*POW*"

 

The Ratattaki's hands flew up to his face, replacing the metal gauntlet that had just smashed into his jaw, half a second before.

 

"I believe I said, ain't none of your fraggin' business!" Drokk reached down and grabbed the mark by the back of his collar and yanked him to his feet.

 

More aggressive... right. Any more aggressive than she has been this morning, and I'll probably find myself encased in carbonite and hanging from someone's wall.

 

"Let's go. I need to collect your bounty, and then I have to figure out how I screwed up, before I get back to my ship. That means this is going to be a looong day, so I don't have time to listen to you beg. Move it."

 

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

 

Drokk walked into the cargo bay, and was met by his wife, her arms folded and tapping her foot.

 

Aww crap... this is not good.

 

"Where the hell have you been?!"

 

"I had to turn in the bounty, deal with the paperwork, then I stopped to get something to eat before I came back... Makes, what is going on?"

 

"My name is Mak-O, but hey, I'm only your wife, right? Why should you bother to pronounce it correctly?"

 

Drokk took a step back in confusion, "I...uh... what?"

 

"Y'know, why don't I give you some time to work on that 'O' sound, hmm? You can sleep down here tonight, and practice!" She yelled as she turned around and stormed up the stairs, to their quarters.

 

He stood there, stunned for a moment, and then moved to follow her, but was blocked when Gault came walking down the stairs.

 

The Devaronian opened his mouth to speak, but Drokk interrupted him before he could start.

 

"One word," he growled, "one fraggin' word out of that sharp toothed little mouth of yours, and I will break off that remaining horn, shove it up your a*s, and launch you out of the airlock. We clear?"

 

"Uhh, Drokk... we're still on the ground", the Devaronian looked confused.

 

"And the airlock is twenty feet above it. Now, you go upstairs, and you tell Skadge, that if he decides to pop off tonight, for any reason," menace dripped in the Hunter's words, "I'll fly this fraggin' ship to the nearest black hole, and put him in it. Make sure he's aware of how serious I am."

 

Gault backed away slowly, "Sure, Big guy. I'll take care of it." He disappeared quickly into the living area, where the Houk liked to hang out.

 

The Hunter opened his locker, removed his armor, then grabbed a spare towel and clothes, and headed to the fresher to shower off.

 

Did I forget her birthday? No, that's months away. It's not a holiday, is it? No, nothing until next month. I cleaned the beard hairs out of the sink... crap, did I forget to remove the garbage again? No, she wouldn't be this pissed ... would she? Maybe. Skadge was in there last night, cooking up something foul... dammit, bet it was the garbage...

 

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

 

Drokk heard the hatch open, and the slapping of bare feet on the metal hull, making their way over to him.

 

He hadn't been able to sleep, so he came up to his favorite spot on the top of the ship, laid back with his knees up, hands behind his head, and had been thinking of everything he'd done in the last few weeks that could've upset his wife this bad. He'd been out here, staring at the Tatooine moons for two hours now.

 

He sat up as the footsteps neared, "Hey, Makes, I--"

 

She stood there, in her sweats and RotDogs team jersey, tears running down her face. In her hand, she held a group of letters that were tied together by a leather bootlace.

 

"Why, Drokk? *sniff* Wasn't I good enough for you? What did I do wrong?"

 

"Makes, I don't know what you're talking abo--"

 

"QUIT LYING TO ME!" She screamed and sobbed at the same time. "I found these love letters from another woman, Drokk! I did your laundry while you were out yesterday, and.. and there they were, in the back of your sock drawer, hidden away."

 

"Why were you doing my laund-- never mind. Makes, I can explain."

 

"Really?" She pulled out a letter and started reading it, "This is dated before we decided to get married."

 

"...Though I've tried before to tell you, of the feelings I have for you in my heart; every time that I come near you, I just lose my nerve as I've done from the start. Every little thing you do is magic. everything you do just turns me on. And even though my life before this was tragic, it's my love for you that keeps me going on..."

 

"Makes, you don't understand..."

 

"Oh no?!" she said angrily, tears flowing from her eyes. "Do I understand this then? After we were married, during a job you'd taken Gault with you. You were gone for a week."

 

"... I wanted you to know, I love the way you laugh. I want to hold you high, and steal your pain away. I keep your holo-image; you know it serves me well. I just want to hold you high and steal your pain away. I'm broken, when I'm lonesome, and I don't feel right, when you're away..."

 

Drokk started standing up, "Makes, please, just listen to me..."

 

"NO! You listen! I deserve that much! This one, *sob*, this one is dated during that five weeks you disappeared *sob*, when you left me to become the Reaper again!"

 

"... Somebody to make me feel whole again; Somebody to make me want to love again; Somebody to make me see the sun again; Somebody to hold me, until this life feels better. Every time I lose control, you help me, you save me. Every time I hate myself, you love me, forgive me. Every time I lose myself, you find me, redefine me..."

 

She quit reading, and threw the letters at him, "Dammit Drokk!" she yelled, still crying, "If you were going to leave me for someone else anyway, why didn't you just stay gone?!"

 

He stood up to his full height and looked at her, his green eyes darkened, "Is that what you want?"

 

"Of course not!" Mako pounded his barrel-like chest, "I fight too damn hard to keep you alive, so we can get old together! But I'm not going to be anyone's other woman!" she sobbed into his chest.

 

He drew her into him, hugging her tightly as he kissed the top of her head. "I need you to settle down for a minute, and listen to me then." he said calmly.

 

She hesitated. "Fine", she said stubbornly, still crying. "What?"

 

"Those aren't from another woman, Makes. I wrote those... for you."

 

The petite blond tried to push away from him, but he held her tight. "You lying sunuva--, that's a woman's handwriting!"

 

"No, that's my handwriting. Makes, you've never seen me write. You do all the books; our bounties are transmitted electronically; retinal scans to access our accounts... you've never once seen me put ink to paper."

 

She looked up at the Hunter dubiously, her eyes still wet from crying. "Prove it."

 

"I don't have a pen."

 

"Stay here." She commanded, as she disappeared into the ship, then reappeared less than a few minutes later holding a pen. She thrust it into his chest.

 

"Prove it."

 

He kneeled down, grabbed one of the scattered letters, turned it over and wrote 'I love you forever'.

 

Mako quickly grabbed the paper and began to compare it to the other letters. She looked at him, stunned, then she blushed and started tearing up again.

 

"Oh my-- Drokk, I'm so sorry. I feel like such a Chuba's a*s. Why were you hiding those? Why didn't you give them to me?" She wiped the tears away , took a deep breath, and poked him in the chest. "In a way, that makes this is your fault, y'know."

 

"Wha...? Okay, first off, I've been writing that stuff since we were on the Great Hunt! I never gave any of it to you because you were all 'oooh, we shouldn't get involved! Let's stay friends! Let's be professional!' Secondly..." he looked at his feet as they shuffled nervously, " you know how I get about this stuff, babe. I always wanted to give them to you, but when I re-read what I wrote... well, it all sounded so cornball."

 

"Plus, you write like a teenage, Alderranian princess..."

 

"Yeah, there is th--HEY!" He looked at his wife, who was now smiling.

 

"I really am sorry, Drokk" Mako pulled his face to hers and kissed him. "I was just really scared. I hope you can forgive me."

 

The Hunter laid back down in his spot, and put his hands behind his head, "I dunno. I'll think about it."

 

"Jerk!" She kicked him playfully, then fell on top of him, resting her head on his chest. She sighed as she soaked in the warmth of his huge frame.

 

He put his arm around her, "I forgive you with one condition. No one, I mean NO ONE, gets told about this. Not even Juda. Especially not Juda. She'd let it slip, and then I'd never hear the end of it from Gault."

 

"I think I can arrange that." Mako shimmied up his chest and kissed him.

 

"Good... does this mean I can sleep in my own bed now?"

 

"Nope. I'm comfortable right where I am."

 

They lay there for a few minutes, before Drokk broke the silence. "Makes, you know you don't have to worry about that, right? I'm not ever going to leave you. You... you're my rock, Makes. You keep me from... well, from sinking into... you keep the Reaper from tak--"

 

Two fingers pressed down on his lips.

 

"I know. I can't lose you either, you big lug."

 

He wrapped both his arms around her to keep her warm, as she snuggled into his chest, and sighed.

 

... just to be safe, I'd better get to that garbage tomorrow, before she notices.

 

 

 

 

Notes:

 

Ok, so I suck hard at writing poetry. Roses are red; Violets are blue; I choose you, Picachu is about the best I can come up with on my own... and I'm not even sure that's mine! So, the letters Drokk wrote are lyrics from songs I like, that I thought worked for the story. In order of appearance, they are:

 

1. Police - Every Little Thing She Does

2. Seether w/Amy Lee of Evanescence - Broken

3. SOiL - Redefine

 

 

 

Edited February 16, 2014 by DarthSillyMonkey

[TrystanLaryssa]

@DarthSillyMonkey: That was an absolutely brilliant little piece! I loved Mako's mysteriously furious behavior, and all the snide comments from others on the ship... even his mark!... about how to fix things. I think a pet favorite moment of mine though was their discussion of his handwriting. That's one of those funny, personal little things you don't always think about... SO good I won't even mention it here in case somebody reads comments before your story. This was awesome!

[icecreampants]

Sorry about my lack of activity and such. I've reached a very busy time in my professional life and as consequence my personal life (including writing) has taken a back burner.

 

And to those that I promised comments to please know this: I read most if not all of the stories you guys post during the small fragments of free time I have in the day. I love each and every one I come across.

 

Now onto the next chapter Of Delgrin, Raina and Lutra! Though I really didn't have a prompt in mind while writing this so I kinda just put something that kinda goes with some of it sorry. Also I suck at titles right now so this one doesn't have one.

 

Prompt -Some Achilles' Heel/ Worst day ever/ Allies.

Characters- Delgrin Vaunt (IA), Raina Temple, Lutra Sief (BH), Gault Rennow, HK-51,Blizz,Torian, Mako and Doctor Sief

Words - roughly 2150

Spoilers - none

Translations: Buir-Father

Ad'ika- Child/Daughter/Sweetie

 

Warning: Brief scene of violence/ depiction of torture/ murder.

 

 

 

Lutra strode into her camp, her stride resembling that of a kath hound mother returning to the den after a successful hunt. The two prisoners being escorted behind her however were a stark contrast. Delgrin and Raina’s feet drug the ground, both sharing the same face of defeat and hopelessness.

 

“HK, Gault, do me a favor and ensure that our prisoners are restrained in the supply tent. I have to check on the others and grab some of my gear. I’ll be back to chat with them shortly” Lutra stated as she walked off towards one of the other tents.

 

“I’m sure the two lovebirds are a-okay .I’d be more worried about why mister small blue and gruesome is here than our wounded pup and her over protective lover.” Gault grumbled as he moved Delgrin into the supply tent.

 

“You can’t be that afraid of someone in chains.” Delgrin joked as he was forced to sit down on the dirt floor.

 

“Trust me kid live the kind of life I have and it’s the people in chains you fear the most. Especially those that carry the kinda scars you do.” Gault responded as he eyed the chiss’s battle scarred face, their eyes met in a brief stare off, only to be interrupted by a shriek of pain from the Ensign as she was pushed to the ground by the droid.

 

“Be careful on how you treat her droid. I’ll ensure that pain caused to her is returned with interest when we escape.” Delgrin growled as the droid slowly walked towards the entrance of the tent.

 

“Statement: This unit has recently acquired a disintegrator and has yet to fully test its functionality on a moving organic. If escape is attempted it would bring my circuits great joy to watch it turn your flesh into a pile of fertilizer for my master’s potted plants.” The droid responded as it pushed the tent flaps open.

 

“Calm down rustbucket. You’ve been trigger happy since the boss ordered it from that holo catalog last month. Just warn me before you set those circuits to murderous rampage. That way my scaly hide can take cover.” Gault teased as he followed the droid out of the tent.

 

 

Meanwhile Lutra entered the large medical tent; makeshift medical equipment, most certainly cobbled together by an over eager Blizz, surrounded a small cot with Mako asleep on it. At the foot of the bed Torian sat, on top of a small wooden stool. His head tilted back, a low snore emanating from him as he slept.

 

A small grin crossed Lutra’s lips as she moved closer to the two. Though the chaos of the previous days had put great strain on her, seeing the two at peace for the moment brought a great relief to her. Though as she closed the distance between them the view of bandages covering Mako’s chest reminded her that things were still not as they should be.

 

“Glad to see you made it back safely ad’ika.” An old haggard voice spoke quietly from a dark corner of the tent

 

“Ah Buir, how’s our patient doing?” Lutra responded softly. Looking across the tent she saw her father, an old silver furred Cathar, making his way over to the bedside. A data pad clenched in one hand, a syringe filled with some strange green fluid in the other.

 

“My professional prognosis is that she’ll survive. The anesthetics should wear off within the next few hours and be back on her feet in a few days.” The old man whispered as he sat down on an old weathered chair that had been set next to the cot. Placing the datapad on a small table next to a tray piled high with fresh bandages; he briefly lowered his head, offering a prayer to the Gods before starting his work.

 

Lutra watched quietly as her adopted father worked diligently on the unconscious Mako. His hands moved swiftly as he removed the old bandages, checking the wound carefully for any negative signs and then injecting the syringe nearby. The old man paused for a second letting his weathered hands rest.

 

“You’ll never know how much I appreciate your work father. You’re the best anyone could ever ask for.” Lutra said as she cast an endearing gaze at the old man as he resumed his work placing fresh bandages over the wound.

 

“I can only take part of the credit here Lutra. That jawa of yours was as big of a factor to your friend’s survival as I was. He’s a savant with tech that’s for sure. Gave the little bugger a tube of galacta-glue, a box of rusted parts and drew him a sketch in the dirt. Twenty minutes later he comes back with a functioning echocardiogram machine. Funny thing is I asked for a coffee maker.” He joked as he stood up slowlly and began to make his way towards Lutra.

 

Lutra laughed as she felt a soft tug on her pants leg. Turning around she saw the little Jawa staring up at her.

 

“Did Blizz do good boss?” the little Jawa asked, his golden eyes scouring Lutra’s face for any sign of appreciation or disappointment.

 

Lutra turned around and knelt down until her eyes were level with his. A smile of approval beamed from her face as she patted her pint sized comrade on the head. “Blizz did very good.”

 

The Jawa trembled with excitement, enthused that his creations were of help to his boss. Turning quickly he ran out the door, several seconds passed before Lutra heard the familiar clang of the Jawa’s tools being spread out over his work bench.

 

“Now on to your little hunt. Did you manage to find the ones responsible for the attack?”

 

“It’s best if I tell you the details about it outside.” Lutra spoke barely above a whisper motioning towards the door.

 

The two carefully exited the medical tent and walked towards the center of the camp. Stopping once they reached the smoldering ashes of the campfire. Lutra stood silent as the memories from the other day rushed back to her.

 

Torian and Mako had just exited one of the tents along with her father. Things seemed normal for a change, until she saw the bright red laser dance across her father’s face. She yelled out for everyone to get down and took cover herself, standing to her feet after hearing a yelp of pain from Mako. She rushed to her wounded comrade, trying her best to stop the bleeding. Her father tried to help but she refused him, demanding that he take cover somewhere safe. Torian was the one that took the attack the worse; cradling the injured Mako carefully in his arms roaring like a crazed beast. Lutra seemed lost until she heard HK proclaim he had seen the shooter leaving his position. Fueled by anger and revenge Lutra ordered Gault and HK to follow her as they pursued the attacker, while her father and the others were to tend to Mako.

 

Perplexed by his daughter’s awkward silence Doctor Sief gently laid a hand on one of her shoulders. Lutra jumped up, frightened out of her flashback by the warmth of her father’s hand.

 

“Are you alright dear? Didn’t you want to talk about what happened?” the Doctor’s voice brimmed with concern as Lutra shook off the flash back.

 

“Sorry. I got lost in thought that’s all. I promise. Now back to business. I managed to track down the ones responsible. Their weaponry and clothes matched HK’s description. So I hatched a plot to capture them. Right now they’re sitting quietly in the supply tent being guarded by Gault and HK.”

 

“I see. So what are your plans for them? I doubt you’d bring them back alive to execute them.”

 

“I want to find out why they’re here. Why they’re trying to kill you. Something about this whole ordeal rubs me wrong Buir.” Lutra said

 

“I’m sure you will get to the bottom of this Ad’ika. Now I’ll let you go I have some more minor things to attend to.” The old man turned back towards the medical tent as Lutra stared quietly at the ground, still stained by Mako’s blood, as plans brewed in her head. Silently she turned on her heels and walked towards the supply tent.

 

Delgrin’s ears perked up as he heard people talking outside the tent. Cautiously he shifted as much as he could towards the entrance, until he could hear exactly what was being said.

 

”You’re kidding right? You want to go in there alone? Listen here boss normally I’m fine with your whole sexy alpha huntress thing. Really, I'm a huge fan of it. But those two are dangerous. They’ve already got one of us down and you think waltzing on in there unarmed is a fantastic idea? Does what am I telling you sound crazy? Or is this the years of living on the run as the galaxy’s favorite scoundrel finally causing me to go completely paranoid?” He heard the Devaronian protest adamantly.

 

“Gault. I appreciate the concern. I do. But this is the best idea I could come up with. You and HK need to keep an eye out in case he has a bunch of thugs coming to murder all of us. Besides with Torian keeping an eye on Mako and Blizz becoming the next surplus medical equipment baron, I’m the only really threatening one out of our whole crew remaining. Have a little faith in your alpha huntress for star’s sake.” Lutra replied layering on a heavy amount of sarcasm.

 

“Fine, fine have it your way. But if they’ somehow cause you suffering don’t come crying to me.” Delgrin heard Gault relent. As footsteps from outside the tent became closer;he moved back away from the door. A few seconds later Lutra entered the tent and sat down on top of a supply crate.

 

“Hope you two are doing well, I wasn’t expecting to have to interrogate anyone on my brief vacation from galactic affairs. I could care less which one of you it is, but one of you needs to start giving me some answers as to why you attacked us.”

 

“No clue what you’re talking about Lutra maybe Raina might does. Dear, do you know what she’s talking about?”

 

“No Sir. No Idea at all. Think she has us confused with someone else?’ Raina joined in with her husband, playing dumb as best as she could.

 

“You just called him sir… That more than likely means you’re military of some form. That or your one of those couples that have taken your erotic roleplay a bit too far. Either way I don’t really care. I know it was you two that did it. Come clean and I can be a reasonable person. I might kill whoever sent you rather than you. But if you choose to be difficult I can promise you one thing Delgrin.”

 

“What’s that Lutra?” Delgrin growled at his captor as she stood up and approached him kneeling down in front of him.

“Simple. I’ll kill Raina first. I’ll make you watch as I drain the blood from her body. You will listen as she screams in agony, begging for you to save her. Then, I’ll let you live. Sell you to some slaver who will make your life hell, forcing the rest of your miserable existence to be a constant reminder that you were the cause of her death.” Lutra spoke coldly as she watched the color drain from Delgrin’s scarred face. His bright red eyes slowly dimmed.

 

“Don’t listen to her Sir! We’re her only source of information! If she wants answers she has to keep us alive!” Temple pleaded knowing that Delgrin would do anything to spare her, even if it meant betraying the Empire.

 

“Truthfully kid, I’d much rather not resort to that option. But I would be satisfied knowing that I brought justice down upon those who caused my comrades suffering. So what’ll it be? You wanna risk your love dying because you’re too stubborn to loosen those little blue lips? Or do you wanna be the good lover and tell me what I want to know.” Lutra knew Delgrin was about to cave as she saw him trembling at the thought of losing Raina.

 

“I’l- I’ll tell you everything. Just please don’t hurt her anymore. She’s the only thing that matters to me anymore.” The chiss broke down into tears as he spoke. He had lost enough of his life in service to the Empire; Raina was the only part that he was unwilling to sacrifice.

 

“Sir, don’t! You’ll lose everything you’ve ever worked for. They’ll hunt you down if they find out.” Raina pleaded as Lutra lifted Delgrin to his feet.

 

“It’s a better fate than losing you Ensign.” Delgrin replied as he was forced to walk once more by Lutra.

 

“Let’s go have a little chat now. You sound like you have quite the tale to tell” the Mandalorian said as she marched with the broken man out of the tent.

 

His fate still unknown Delgrin hoped that at the very least he would be able to spare Raina's life. Once more he walked forward not knowing what the stars had in store for him next.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's note

 

There may come a day when I provide you closure at the end of one of my stories! But it is not this day! Expect some revelations concerning Doctor Sief and Lutra with my next post!

 

[LaxKnight]

Popping in here to thank everyone for their feedback. I'm glad people like the saying Gloria's father had. Took me a bit to think of something clever and inspirational there. As for the Achilles' piece, I'm glad it was well received. Lonestar is definitely a Spaceballs reference. Joanne is one of my oldest characters (as in creationwise) and I still use her because she is so fun to RP and now write. Don't worry DarthSillyMonkey you will see more of her.

 

I regret to inform you guys that for the next month internet access will be very hard to come by. I will read your stories and try and slip in some comments and stories of my own and I will get one up before I leave. But now I have comments!

 

Comments:

 

 

Sorry Lesaberisa and TrystanLaryssa for not reading all of your stories. Darn spoilers!

 

@Lesaberisa I love the format and grammar you used for your Hidden Talents piece. It was entertaining to read. Could get a good sense of what age she is. I’m not sure if there are others stories of Amitia but I’m sure they’re interesting. As for To Market, To Market, everyone has that one thing that they just HAVE to buy, even if it’s crappy and seems almost against your will (like the prequels, kidding.)

 

@SifaSeven Family Complications is a good title for this piece (even if it is part III). I had a hard time trying to get it straight myself. Feel like I need a flow chart. However it is a well written piece and it is definitely best told by a companion’s perspective. I’m not too far into IA and so far I’m still stuck with Kaliyo (grrrrr) but Vector’s way of ‘seeing’ people’s emotions is a nice touch.

 

@DarthSillyMonkey For What Lies Beneath Pt.4 it is a great piece to read. I like the flashbacks for it gives us some insight to Shira’Kian’s character and past and helps explains the actions she is taking in the present. As most people have said, the made up lore of the Circle of Five is a nice touch. When I RP and write for my Jedi Sentinels, I tend to use them in the more traditional sense that they are people really good at being ‘normal’ and secretive instead of simply Jedi who use two lightsabers.

 

As for your Letters in Sock Drawer piece. I loved it. So often do lovers draw the wrong conclusion and assume the worst. With the repeated shots in the butt, I was going *** with Drokk’it. The mark getting involved was a nice touch. I knew who the love letters were for the moment they were mentioned and I love the quotes you put in. Write like an Alderranian princess was great. Nice little heartwarming piece. Definitely had one of those ‘ahhhhh how sweet’ moments.

 

@frauzet Ciner is a great representation of the Sith. Then Rufuro trying to kill himself, that’s sad. Understandable, but sad. Screwing with fate always seems to backfire. Interested to see where Part two goes.

 

@alaurin I totally missed the BH spoiler tag XD. Fear of elevators? Would have never pegged Kat for that and with the dark to compound it was a nice touch. Charm comes to save the day and I’m sure what Gault has in store will help her feel better.

 

@Striges A Jedi afraid of the dark? Makes sense. Hard to put into words why but it does. I love how you brought up the fear to suffering mantra. Also how Qyzen dismisses his fear as simply being wary is great. I feel like this fear could be manipulated and be a great metaphor in the future.

 

@TrystanLaryssa For the Love Letters piece I did read, I always feel sorry for Quinn. His reaction though is priceless. Nakova, Dark Lady of the Sith, acting like a teenage girl. I can just imagine her giggling evilly to herself. It seems she didn’t take her own feelings into account, hmm?

 

@bright_ephemera Ruth and Quinn have an interesting relationship. I think I know what Quinn is trying to get at by sending these letters to Ruth but I’m not sure she is willing to accept it. Those were great letters too.

 

@marissalf After I read this I went back and read the link you had to understand this piece better. It makes me think of what someone would be feeling if they had to see their mom or lover turn into a zombie and having to shoot them. It’s sad. And the fact that she could turn that way? Double sad. Of course it is Gault there to save the lady’s day.

 

@icecreampants I feel this series is nearing a climax. Poor little Mako, being shot. I feel the Doctor knows exactly why someone is trying to kill him. Mandos usually have someone out for them (got a few characters who can attest to that). Didn’t take Delgrin long to fold but I feel he is going to go about this interrogation in a very clever manner, maybe even escape. We will see.

 

 

As said I will try and get a story up today.

[LaxKnight]

As promised, a story. It's a little short and sad but I hope you like it.

 

Prompt: Love Letters and Secret Valentines

Title: My Dearest Trysa

Character(s): Trysa (Bounty Hunter Powertech), Penelope Lonestar (Zeltron Smuggler)

*Index under Penelope Lonestar*

Word Count: 832 words

 

 

Trysa hasn’t taken a fresh shower in a while. It was nice to actually feel cleaner going out of a shower than going in. After drying off with a towel the Chiss put on her underwear and zipped up her black bodysuit halfway and rolled the rest of it around her waist. She rolled her sleek black hair into a neat bun and took laid down on the bed with datapad in hand. A tear began to roll down her cheek when a noise caused her to jump.

 

She looked to see the Zeltron pilot of the Pink Fury standing in the threshold with a bottle of Corellian Ale in hand. Her navy blue eyes were crossed with worry. “Something wrong?” Penelope asked.

 

“Nothing, Captain Lonestar. Nothing at all,” Trysa answered as she smoothly placed the data pad on the nightstand.

 

Penelope eyes told the Chiss that she knew better. “I’m a Zeltron,” she said, “I can sense your emotions on the other side of the ship. You’re making ME feel depressed. That’s hard to do. So what’s up?”

 

Trysa shifted uncomfortably under the Zeltron’s probing gaze. “It’s personal. Shouldn’t you be flying the ship?” she said trying to deflect the Zeltron’s question.

 

“We’re in hyperspace. You flew with me before. You know that there is passenger confidentiality when you fly with me and that I won’t leave it alone until you tell me. So spill! What’s got you so down?”

 

Trysa unconsciously looked to the data pad as the bodyguard for hire tried to calculate her next move. The sly privateer caught it though. Before the Chiss could react, Penelope swooped to the nightstand and snagged the data pad before Trysa could react. A smile many would consider mischievous and lovely under different circumstances crossed her lush dark pink lips as her eyes skimmed its contents. “Oooh! A love letter! Let’s see what it says!” Penelope exclaimed.

 

Realizing there was nothing she could do Trysa closed her eyes and gave a sad sigh. “Go ahead.”

 

My dearest Trysa,

 

If you receive this letter then it means my brother has succeeded in finding you. I regret that I could not deliver this to you personally but as with most of my letters I write you before my missions in case my latest letter is my last. My missions become more dangerous but my resolve to push through strengthens for it meant the end of my contract and the beginning of a new life with you.

 

I think this goes without saying but I miss you. I miss the bright fire in your eyes, your laugh as sweet as chocolate, and your hair as smooth as ice. When everything seems cold and hopeless you are the spark that keeps me warm, even now that we are so far from each other. I keep a picture of you with me at all times in my breast pocket because you are the only one close enough to my heart.

 

Life outside of Csilla is strange and difficult. The Empire hates all things alien and only tolerates us until we outlast our usefulness. They think us as emotionless statues but like our home planet, like you, you show a smooth, icy shell but underneath it is vibrant with life. Though it is harsh out in the galaxy, even the Empire is so diverse compared to the Ascendency. I can see why you left Csilla, though you left on your terms. My family may have been exiled we can start anew in this lush galaxy.

 

Everything is almost in place for us to meet again. One more mission. Why must fate be so cruel? My heart aches for you for it wishes to be home with you.

 

Forever yours,

Relano

 

“Forbidden love. So dramatic! When do I get to meet this mysterious Relano?” Penelope teased.

 

“He’s dead,” Trysa said flatly.

 

Though she was doing an excellent job at maintaining her composure, a single tear managed to escape her hold. Penelope’s playful glee quickly turned to sadness as she both felt the Chiss’ pain and instantly felt horrible for forcing it up. “I’m…I’m so sorry,” she said shocked, “I didn’t realize…”

 

“There was no way you could have known,” Tyrsa said, “In that mission his cover was blown. He managed to grab the data and escape but his Sith handler didn’t accept mistakes. He’s the reason I do what I do. I’m a shield so no one else’s loved ones have to feel what I feel.”

 

The last statement she said with new found resolve as she stood a little bit straighter. Heart broken by the tale, Penelope began to tear up. “I’m so sorry! Now you’re making me all wishy washy! I’m here for you! I hope you forgive me!” she sobbed.

 

“It’s okay. It was a while ago…”

 

Without warning the lovely pink Zeltron hugged the cold blue Chiss. Though she stood stoically against the Zeltron’s tearful assault, Trysa couldn’t help but crack a small smile.

 

 

[YoshiRaphElan]

Probably hopelessly behind on comments now, but everyone's doing a great job!

 

Prompt - First Day on the Job

Title - Welcome to the Sith

Class - Sith Warrior/Sith Inquisitor

No spoilers

 

 

Standing in the 'fresher of the Fury, Jarrus–as the clone of Jasin haad chosen to name himself–ran his fingers through his hair. He'd dyed it a light, sandy brown rather than Jasin's dark brown to differentiate him from his prime. In addition, he'd cut it short and spiked it rather than let it grow out long. He had shaved his facial hair but he let a five o' clock shadow show through.

 

"I look like a different person," he said softly.

 

He touched his cheek, feeling the rough patches of the stubble growing there. He was still unsure about his place in the galaxy, but he knew that he was meant to serve the light side of the Force, but that he was meant to help Methic, Jasin's brother–and thus, technically, Jarrus' brother–turn the Empire toward the light. The Dark Council had to be the first to fall, in Jarrus' opinion. They'd created him just so they could use him.

 

"Feel any different?" a voice asked from the door.

 

Jarrus turned. Behind him, Pierce stood with his arms crossed, looking down at the smaller man. Jarrus would once have been cowed down by the soldier's size, but the few days he'd spent with Methic had allowed him to come into himself a bit more, and learn how to cope with other people and their varying appearances–even aliens like Vette and Broonmark.

 

"Not really," he admitted. "But at least I won't be mistaken for a Jedi Knight."

 

Pierce chuckled. "Got that right."

 

Malavai Quinn stepped up beside Quinn. "But if I may give some advice, my lord Jarrus, adopt an Imperial accent. I can help you with that if you wish."

 

Jarrus nodded. "Yes, that...would be acceptable, Colonel Quinn." The last five words, he said in a faked Imperial accent. It sounded cringe-worthy, even to him. "I could use the help."

 

Quinn nodded and he and Pierce walked off. Jarrus shut the door and stripped off his gray one-piece jumpsuit. He pulled on a pair of gray trousers and a red shirt, the uniform of a Sith acolyte. He hesitated with his lightsaber. He wasn't sure if he wanted to keep the power crystal red or not; it showed the dark side too clearly, and even though Jarrus didn't want to be mistaken for a Jedi, he didn't want to become an obvious dark side Sith, either.

 

"Jarrus!" called Methic. "It's time to start your training! You coming?"

 

Jarrus nodded to himself. "I'm coming, Methic." He clipped the saber to his belt; he'd have to change the crystal later. "I won't miss it."

 

 

 

If any of you following the development of the Star Wars: Rebels TV show notice that Jarrus' name is the same as the surname of the hero, "Kanan Jarrus"...it's a total coincidence.

 

[SifaSeven]

Comments coming soon. Now, a story based on this week's prompt. (Yeah, I'm actually proud of myself. LOL)

 

Prompt: Love Letters and Secret Valentines

Title: Lovelorn Academics

Character(s): Cailean (SI)*, Sho'isa (SI, mentioned), Scorpiana (SI, mentioned), Graydenn (SI, mentioned), Khem Val (mentioned), Talos Drellik, Marissah (Cailean and Talos's young daughter)

File under Cailean*

 

Timeframe: past Act III of SI class story

 

Spoilers: None, but if BW made Talos romanceable, my SI would marry him in a heartbeat!

Pictures of Cailean, Sho'isa and Scorpiana are here

 

 

For most of her life, Lady Cailean was used to being alone. Her life as a noblewoman on Maevan seemed so far away. The Circle of Clans panicked at the show of Imperial might and offered members of their 'riffraff' as slaves. They ripped her from her home, sold her into slavery, and eventually sent her to Korriban. The Circle hoped the tukata would take care of their problem.

 

She chuckled and touched the pendant around her neck. Fate had a strange way of repaying generosity. Surely the Clan hadn't counted on a slave becoming the first Maevan Sith. She hadn't counted on enjoying the scholar's life.

 

Or finding the love of her life in the process.

 

The boom of thunder echoed in her chambers, followed by the rattle of rain. Cailean picked up the small holorecorder on her desk. She took it to the bed and placed it on the pillow. A carved wooden box sat on her night table. A neat stack of recordings lay within, arranged by time and date. She chose one at random and popped it into the recorder.

 

"I do hope this message finds you in good health. I have wonderful news to share with you and I'm excited as a rakghoul in a ragheap. Ugh...that wasn't want I meant to say. Forget I said that. Anyway...that map that Lord Sho'isa lent us? The boys and I triangulated the coordinates and turns out, she was spot on. It took about four days of hard digging through a hill side, but we found the entrance. I measured the dimensions...there's definitely something big behind that."

 

Cailean smiled as he rambled on about the arguments for opening the door. Rogers wanted to use explosives; unfortunately, that was out of the question. The carvings on the lintel provided the necessary clues. A secret panel hidden in the outer walls, some sort of mechanical spring. Genius, if a bit old fashioned.

 

She could imagine him sitting in his tent and dictating this message. The sound of a light shower punctuated his words. A little water never bothered him. What was a minor storm compared to the discovery of a Sith Lord's tomb?

 

So very much like him.

 

"I wish you were here to share this remarkable discovery with me. Since you cannot, I've included as many language samples as I can fit in this message. I know you love a linguistic challenge as much as I do. I don't think this dialect is as 'dead' as Lord Scorpiana believes. It shows a remarkable similarity to Cheunh and Maevan in certain respects. That reminds me...perhaps you might have Lord Graydenn see this. He might be able to provide some valuable insight."

 

Cailean couldn't help but laugh as he took another deep breath. Some husbands sent roses, chocolates, shimmersilks and exotic clothing. Not hers. He sent her data crystals, audio samples, fragments of parchment, and measurements of stone tablets. Pictures of hieroglyphs, dictionaries and rare paintings.

 

Early in their marriage, he had made a recording from his dig site on Mustafar. To her surprise, he tried to compose it in High Maevan. She understood most of it, although his accent reminded her of Khem Val's voice at times. She chuckled as she remembered his entreaty:

 

"I know this sounds like utter rubbish, but I wanted to try out my knowledge of High Maevan. Would you be so kind as to correct my grammar and send me those corrections? I know your heritage is of utmost importance to you. I want to do it justice because I do love you so."

 

Some husbands asked forgiveness for crashing the family speeder. Her husband asked forgiveness for not having a perfect accent.

 

Cailean had laughed and did as he requested. She made the necessary corrections and sent the results back to him. He thanked her and promised to do better next time.

 

It was that attention to detail that made him good at his job. Granted, he became rather grumpy when one of his theories proved wrong. Yet he managed to find the rancor's tooth in the silver lining, so to speak.

 

Whenever he heard his voice, it always made her days less lonely.

 

"Mama?"

 

She looked up at the doorway. "Come in, Marissah. I was just listening to your father's recordings."

 

The little girl ran and bounced next to her on the bed. "I miss Dada, but it sounds like he's here."

 

"It does, doesn't it. Well, he's coming home soon. I'm sure he misses you very much."

 

Cailean ran a hand through Marissah's reddish-blonde curls. She touched the button on the holorecorder. He always closed his messages the same way:

 

"I look forward to seeing you and Marissah again. Tell her that her Dada misses her very much. And as always, I remain your faithful and loving husband, Captain Talos Drellik.

 

"End recording."

 

 

Notes

 

 

Cailean is one of the few who prefers the title 'Lady' as opposed to 'Lord'. That was her title on her homeworld and she prefers it.

 

[TrystanLaryssa]

Comments!

 

 

 

 

@IceCreamPants: Your story, the clever way you have made Lutra likeable after making her very not so in the last tale, the clever intermingling of companions and action and dialog... so many things in this story deserve a decent comment. Sadly, they all pale to this rather pathetic setiment, but it'll have to do: I LOVE JAWAS! Blizz is adorable. That is all.

 

@LaxKnight: Short and bittersweet... how sad that messages of that nature, the "just one more and I can come home" letters, always seem to end up prophetically tragic.

 

@YoshiRaphElan: I think I'm going to like this guy! And yes, a new identity often comes with a change of appearance... especially when you look like somebody else!

 

@SifaSeven: Awww! Another Talos ship... lucky Cailean! I agree he's unfortunate as a non-romance companion. (He's actually my Inquisitor's companion of choice these days because personality-wise, I think Kath ended up closer to his best friend than Ashara!) I felt you got a very good handle on his enthusiasm and personality. A fun read!

 

 

[frauzet]

Behind again, but I did it.

 

Comments:

 

@alaurin: Seems like there could be worse things happening than being stuck in the elevator with Gault. Although I have to admit that I can't help thinking about the temperatures on Hoth. So I hope the 30 minutes were hot enough to keep them from freezing...

 

@TrystanLaryssa:

"What Did You Call Me?": I think all of my inquisitors collected these dark side points. Nice to see how Kath could not fight his emotions and hated the result afterwards. Naturally Khem doesn't understand his reaction.

"Hot Under the Collar": More throwing Quinn off balance, I like the backfiring.

 

@Striges: I feel for Jurial. Even without fear of the dark and being claustrophobic I find the notion of lying in a tent in the dark with Rakghouls all around not very amusing. Qyzen misinterpretation of the situation is great. Of course it wouldn't occur to him that the Herald could be afraid.

 

@bright_ephemera: The second folder was a clever move of Quinn. I like the letters and the parallels.

 

@marissalf: I like the glasses as focus for Mel's memories of Ellis. And I like Gault very much in that piece. He may be selfish most of the time, but he sure knows how to handle people. And living with Mel and the rest has to have some effect on him.

 

@DarthSillyMonkey: That was nice. Was wondering what Drokk had done now to deserve Mako's treatment. I enjoyed the letters very much, was humming along after the first one. And after the screenshots you posted a while ago I had to smile at the thought of Drokk's handwriting, Alderaanian princess *giggle*.

 

@icecreampants: I like the details like the description of the makeshift medical tent. I think it speaks for Delgrin that he wants to save Temple. I am not sure what my IA would do in a similar situation. Waiting for the follow-up.

 

@LaxKnight: I like how you describe the effect of Trysa's emotions on Penelope.

 

@YoshiRaphElan: I like Jarrus' thoughts about the color of his lightsaber crystals. I think it will be interesting to see how he develops.

 

@SifaSeven: That was nice. Talos is adorable.

 

 

[marissalf]

Not behind this week! Have a few comments:

 

@SifaSeven, Talos! Love this story. Didn’t realize it was him until the end (I apparently didn’t pay attention to the notes, lol) and then I grinned so hard. I'm with ya on the romance thing. I'd probably work on my SI more if he were romanceable.

Cailean couldn't help but laugh as he took another deep breath. Some husbands sent roses, chocolates, shimmersilks and exotic clothing. Not hers. He sent her data crystals, audio samples, fragments of parchment, and measurements of stone tablets. Pictures of hieroglyphs, dictionaries and rare paintings.

I feel like this paragraph tells you everything you’d need to know about them as a couple.

 

@DSM, Aw, Drokk writes poetry! And is too shy to actually give it to Mako! Very awkward situation until he gets to explain himself. I like that he’s still scared enough to remember trash duty the next day. Smart man.

 

@icecreampants, I like the little bits of humor here. They help keep things from getting too dark. It really looks like Delgrin and Temple are in for it, but I like that his first instinct is to protect her.

 

@LaxKnight, Ow, that hurts my heart! But it makes a great motivator for Trysa. Wanting to do better so someone else doesn’t have to feel the same hurts. Very bittersweet piece.

 

@Yoshi, Adjusting to all the that new information must be terribly difficult for Jarrus. He seems sad but determined, and it will be interesting to see how his training works out.

 

[bright_ephemera]

This fills in a sort of gap in an old storyline, with Ruth and letters and so on and so forth. Between Discoveries 2 and Ceremonies chronologically. So, Love Letters and Secret Valentines. It talks around a Sith Warrior spoiler, no names or specifics given.

 

 

 

To: Colran Niral

To: Dolarra Reyne

 

Ruth had had weeks. Had she read her parents’ letters? Had she read all of them? Did she care?

 

That was the question Quinn could never answer. Did she care? For a while they had tried to make it work, to be lovers again as they had been so long ago. But she turned it into bitterness at the smallest excuse, stinging harsh reactions from him, and time after time she let him go.

 

And then called him back, whatever that meant. He'd never had the strength to say no to that until his resolution after their latest, fiercest fight, when he'd finally realized it wasn't worth the continued time and hurt. He was ready to reject the next invitation. She wasn't his lord anymore, and hadn't been, not for a long time. He didn't have that duty. To him she was a woman, just like she had always wanted to be, and one whose abuse he was tired of. Once he had marveled at her physical mercy. He hadn't realized at the time what her verbal lashings could be.

 

So it was that one night he’d left. Again. In a hurry. Some things from Ruth’s front closet had ended up in his grip on the way; he hadn’t slowed to take a look until he was well clear. That’s when he’d found the datacube of letters. Eight busy years of correspondence between her parents, collected in one place.

 

He’d read one to identify the collection. After that, curiosity drew him on. And as he read he couldn’t help but mark those letters that most felt like him and Ruth.

 

My darling Colran,

People in my line of work are expected to be perfectly reliable for one entity, and to hell with everyone and everything else. Zero caring outside the job. Some days I'm surprised I'm even allowed to make an exception for somebody.

 

You will always be my exception.

 

When Quinn was done, he had sent the datacube back to Ruth via an intermediary. It was all he could do.

 

He took a deep breath when he saw Ruth calling. Here she would call him to account for having those files in the first place. Here it would all start again, but he couldn’t say no to a conversation.

 

Her holo image flickered into focus. “Thank you,” she started.

 

An immediate relief, as far as it went. “You’re welcome,” he said carefully. “I hope you like it.”

 

“You kept it for a while. Did you read any of it?”

 

“Yes.” He braced for impact. A violation of trust, again, as she would see it. One of many.

 

But she smiled a little. “I’m really glad this wasn’t lost to the unfathomable shadows of the coat closet.”

 

His chest loosened some. “I aim to serve.”

 

She was rapidly turning the datacube over in her hands; now she stilled herself. “Would you be willing to talk sometime?”

 

“I could.”

 

“You free next Tuesday?”

 

He flinched in spite of himself. “Not then.”

 

“Why no- Oh.” How strange, that she didn’t know it immediately. It had been sixteen years since he had driven them apart, seemingly for good. “If you’d rather spend the day apart...”

 

“I think that would be safest.”

 

“In the interest of managing our tempers, I think you’re right.” Self-aware of her to say so. “Saturday after?”

 

“That could be arranged.” Any day she named, any time, he would be there. It was a condition of his existence, so long as there was the smallest hope.

 

“Good. I think there’s something worth fixing. I’d like to talk about how.” She tapped the datacube. “We had something. I think I haven’t given you enough credit for just how much.”

 

“We had something. And we’ll talk.” He took a deep breath. “But first we have an anniversary to survive. I must go, Ruth. I’ll call you when I know what the logistics look like for Saturday.”

 

He cut the line.

 

Dolarra, heart’s dearest,

I know that the job's demands are the job's demands, wherever they send you, whatever they require. It's nothing to me as long as you're ready to come home when you're done. Love has a way of granting patience to go with its impatience; if I have to wait for you I will, because you are worth waiting for.

 

Ruth met him at the estate gate, a slick yet hoodless silver coat her only concession to the rain.

 

“Hello,” she said uncertainly.

 

“Hello,” he said gravely.

 

“Come inside.” She didn’t try to touch him, and he fell in just behind her left shoulder, as he always had.

 

She stopped in the entry hallway and pushed her damp hair back. “Thank you, again,” she said. “For the letters.”

 

“They are yours by right. Perhaps I should not have read them.”

 

“No,” she said hurriedly, “it’s all right. I’m glad you did. I think it was…maybe something we needed.”

 

He inclined his head. “Perhaps it was. Your parents had a remarkable relationship.”

 

She smiled winsomely. “They did.”

 

Funny, the things you find yourself saying when you’re far afield. It’s like I need to squeeze in all the confessions I can so we can get to the light and fluffy stuff when I come home to you. Okay, fluffy stuff and big decisions. The rest we trust to the abstraction of letters. Honesty, a dangerous policy but a surprisingly nice one with some people.

 

Ruth led Quinn onward, and when he moved to take an armchair she caught his hand and gently led him to one of the couches instead. There she sat beside him and let him go.

 

“I don’t know where to start,” she said. He stiffened. After all this time, that was the best she could do? She seemed to sense that it was the wrong thing to say. “Listen, I don’t want to talk about what happened. Not here. Maybe not ever again.”

 

“That scarcely erases it.” Or the temptation to bring it back up, as she always seemed to do.

 

“Doesn’t it? If I can stop punishing you…”

 

That prospect lanced through his chest in a strangely welcome way. He looked past her shoulder, focusing now on keeping his composure. “Ruth, I accepted long ago that a fresh start is impossible for us.”

 

Her lips turned down further. “If you accepted it, why did you keep coming back?”

 

He hesitated, still looking past her, marshaling the resources to stay steady. He had one hope. That was all. “Because you and I have already done the impossible countless times,” he said quietly. “With a history like that, what’s one more?”

 

I’ve been thinking that it’s fairly obvious that we’re an unusual pair. You picked a Sith, after all. If I exercise discretion about us, it's only in defense. It can't change the truth between you and me. And I think, in this world, standing firm is the best commitment there is, regardless of where and whether it's spoken.

 

I speak it to you, my love, because I want you to know. I'm glad to be that voice for you no matter what official policy says. I’m honored to be that voice.

 

“I believe you,” said Ruth. “When you say you loved me. I do believe you. It was real.”

 

That was new. It ran counter to all her accusations, all this time. He hurriedly ducked his head to hide his face. Silence stretched on.

 

“Say something,” she said in a small voice.

 

How was he supposed to react? Should he take her in his arms again, once more pretend that their physical intimacy made a working bond? Still she waited. “Is that an order?” In spite of himself the words were clear and quiet and sharp.

 

“No.” Desperation spread red on her cheeks. "I thought you'd be happy."

 

"I...have no words to suit the occasion. What can we possibly be to each other now?”

 

So shall I get on with the juicy stuff? You are with me, every moment, every place I go, and every good thing I see makes me think “Colran would love this.” You’re the sort to love all kinds of good things. Including the whims of one plain woman, one who loves you beyond all reason.

 

“Can’t we be two people in love? You are. Aren’t you?” Could it be that simple? Could he open that vulnerability again? "Aren’t you?" she repeated faintly.

 

His brow contracted hard while he squeezed his eyes shut. He needed to understand this situation thoroughly, no matter how raw the questions that informed it. “Tell me you love me.”

 

She looked wounded. “I do, you know I do.”

 

“Tell me that the last time I left you was the last time I will.”

 

“If that’s what you want. Nothing would make me happier.”

 

Funny she should mention that. He finally looked directly at her. “Tell me I can make you happy, after everything.”

 

“You can. I want you to.”

 

“Then…” He took her small white hand. “Then I believe we can change our fates.”

 

I wonder sometimes how we would deal with a direct challenge to us. I think I would exhaust politeness very quickly. Maybe Sith authority would solve it. Maybe pure willpower would. (I entrust that to you, strong and fearless as you are.) I don’t intend to let the question come up.

 

Ruth smiled tremulously. “Why didn’t you choose someone less painful than me?”

 

“Why didn’t you?” Quinn murmured. “You could have walked away by now.”

 

“I did. We did. A lot. For half a year. It never…you never stopped calling to me.”

 

Where I go, Colran, you’re with me. Just think how much free travel you're getting out of this. All the galaxy over, and there's nothing, no one that could be to me what you are. Nobody ever was. And if everything goes to plan, nobody ever will be.

 

Oh, darling, I hope it goes to plan.

 

"What happens now?" said Quinn.

 

"Tonight? Maybe not much, except we talk. Going forward? I'd like to see you. Early and often. I'd like to be in your life, the way we couldn't be."

 

"When you say it like that I can believe it’s possible."

 

"One thing. If you have a conflict of interest this would be the time to divulge it." For once her eyes stayed bright. In fact her lips relaxed into that tiny smile she always had at rest. She was listening, but she wasn't baiting a trap.

 

You know, I am glad you’re often out and clear of Sith politics. It’s a stupid world, Dolarra, and you’re too good for it. I would rather keep you for myself, well away from the no-win tricks. Believe me, you’re not missing much.

 

Her optimism made it all the harder to say. "You know my responsibilities, Ruth. I still have a duty."

 

Her voice hardened. "Is that going to call for hurting me or Rylon?"

 

"No. Absolutely not." It was fair of her to ask. It hurt.

 

"That's all I ask. I know the rest of it is mostly traveling and working."

 

It drives me mad sometimes to think how far you are. Are you lonely? Swamped by work? Swamped by not-work? Is any friend remembering to take you in from the rain, since somehow I doubt you've figured that one out yourself (and I find that infinitely endearing)?

 

We must be independent, my love, but part of me still hopes you somehow rely on me.

 

"Listen,” said Ruth. “If my duties permit, perhaps I could travel with you for a little while."

 

Quinn held still, uncertain of the right thing to say. It wasn't quite the same as a civilian tagging along, but it was still...not quite the world they'd had together. Back then with just her ship she'd made it feel like the whole galaxy was theirs for the taking. She'd neatly implemented it, too, in pieces here and there. But now?

 

No matter where you travel or how long you’re gone, I will never not hope for your face, your voice, and your very capable way of reducing all obstacles to dust.

 

"You realize I'd be working,” said Quinn. “But...the men would be glad to see a Sith at their backs."

 

"Or leading the charge. I've gotten used to the thick of things."

 

And so, my lord and my love, I leave you with a little blessing the inhabitants of a recently visited planet (you would have liked them) have:

May the road rise up to meet you (probably physically alarming but interesting),

May the wind be always at your back (it fits a traveler but it can work for a commuter too),

May the sun shine warm upon your face (in a diffuse Dromund Kaas way)

And the rain fall softly on your fields (or gardens)

Until we meet again. (I have no commentary here.)

 

Until we meet again,

Dolarra

 

Ruth reached for Quinn’s face, just enough to trace the lines of his brow and cheek with her fingertips. He welcomed the touch. Slowly she leaned in and he met her for a kiss, gentle and brief, deliberate and steady beyond passion. Then she pushed closer to him on the couch, wrapped her arms around his neck, and curled up against his chest. He settled his arms around her as tightly as he dared and pressed his nose to her hair, and they held each other like that for a long time, just breathing and being.

 

He wasn’t sure what else could be said. He hoped the last few weeks had showed her most of what needed saying. In any case, she seemed content. And so was he.

 

My lady and my love (for such is how I think of you),

I know the blessing. It was made for a sunnier world, but your marginalia make it fit. Once again you improve everything you touch. I’m not surprised in the least.

 

Faithfully yours,

Colran

 

If Ruth was telling the truth, they could start again after all. The way Quinn wanted it to be, that he wasn’t permitted to have before. The way they hoped.

 

If Ruth was telling the truth, she could start to trust again. And he had never known her to lie.

 

 

 

Edit: Silly me, I left off the last line of the Irish blessing, "May God hold you in the palm of his hand." That's what I get for trying to run it from memory!

 

Edited February 20, 2014 by bright_ephemera

[Mirdthestrill]

OK, I've got a massive, and I mean MASSIVE load of comments incoming. That's what I get for letting my sub lapse for a week or two.

 

 

@Zethrodek I'm going to second Alaran in saying that that's pretty rough on both of them. Kinda rough on the guys she killed too

 

@Alaurin Yey! Something feturing fem!counsularXIresso. While Iresso might not be the most interesting LI, he makes a good match for the JC. You've got a pretty character, too.

 

@YoshiRaphElan

RE: Reaching Across the Stars- Uh-oh, I think Jasin is going to have trouble on his hands in the near future. Some sort of evil twin or clone or something? Also, I like the idea of Kira and Nadia having a girl's night. I always figured they'd meet at some point in the story, and wondered if they'd become friends.

RE: My Father, My Hero- Aww, just aww

RE: Discovery- Oh, you've got the suspense building. I'm wondering, does this have something to do with the KOTOR comic's series? I seem to recall significant events happening on the Taris asteroid field in that too.

RE: Confronting Himself- Oh no, evil clones! (I always wanted to shout that). Poor evil-clone-of-Jasin

RE: Welcome to the Sith- He's going to have to work awful hard to pick up an imperial accent that fast. Wishing him luck!

 

@Allronix Yeah, Tharan's absolute resistance to anyone using mind tricks, ever, both puzzles me and makes perfect sense at the same time. Glad Alylia got it cleared up before major issues resulted. Also, kudos on successfully writing a Miraluka. I've always been hesitant to have one as a perspective character, even though I love the species. It just seems so weird to me, not describing things visually.

 

@Striges RE: the teacher's piece: I agree with your comments about Qyzen being sort of a parody/reference to the "uber gamers" that exist out there (I've known a few irl, and I've always wanted to say "seriously, people, lighten up!" But I digress) I like your take on the whole Scorekeeper thing. Do you mind if my consular incorporates that into her reconciliation of Qyzen's beliefs with her own?

RE: Achlles' Heel Not much to say beyond "I like". Always nice to see someone mentioning the practicalities the game doesn't show, like the fact that the characters probably spend a good deal of time camping in some rather dangerous/unpleasant places. And wandering around in the dark.

 

@Lesaberisa

RE: Worst Day Ever- Vermir is a brat, but I kinda like him.

RE: Affection- Another aww moment. I liked how he added instructions to himself in there.

RE: Hiddent talents- I loled, especially at "He said I was even awesomer than Zeena, and that he was in love with me, but he also eats crayons" Whoever her future master is is going to have his or her hands full.

RE: To Market, To Market- another lol from me. I virtually never buy cartel market stuff (unless it's at least 50% off), just pick it up on the GTN when I want to, but I guess everyone has their weaknesses

 

@Frauzet RE: Destiny is a Cruel Master- You're story was a little confusing, but I might just be missing some backstory. Poor Rufio. I hope he finds some desire to live soon .

 

@TrystanLaryssa Man, that guy was annoying. I was going to let him live, but he was just too rude. I can see he's even worse to an alien. And he's seriously mouthing off about "alien scum" to an alien sith? After telling him what he's after, where it is, and what it does? Man, too dumb to live in the flesh.

 

[Allronix]

And once again, I'm going through the prompt list and seeing how many I can check off...

 

Title: A Jar of Trouble

Author: Allronix

Prompt: Irresistible Urges

Characters: Nadia and Tobas Grell

Spoilers: None

Summary: Little Nadia tests her abilities in pursuit of a treat.

Word count: 1180

 

 

 

Daddy was on an important holocall, he said. He didn’t want to be disturbed. Nadia had spent most of the day exploring her backyard, finding pretty rocks, climbing a new tree. However, the last time she had eaten was when it was morning, but now the sun was low on the other side of the sky, her stomach was growling, and her head was starting to ache. She wanted food.

 

Looking around the kitchen, she couldn’t see anything in reach. No bread or fruit or snacks. She couldn't reach the knobs on the stove, either. But what she did see was a big, big jar of har’kan. The treat was a fruit that matured in winter. It was picked, cut up, and crammed into jars to age. The fruit’s sugars and enzymes would break down its thick fibers, candying it in its own juices. Someone had brought them a huge jar during the last festival, and Daddy had put it on a high shelf, about three times her height.

 

Nadia knew she really, really shouldn’t get into the jar. There was more in it than anyone could eat. But the fruit was also wonderfully red, promising a sweet treat that would more than solve her hunger pangs.

 

She took a step toward Daddy’s office, but stopped. He was still talking to the silly-looking man who lived somewhere far, far away. She didn’t want to interrupt him, as he was probably talking about something grown-up and important. Nadia was a big girl, anyway. She could take care of this herself. Marching to the center of the kitchen, she stared at the jar really, really hard and asked it nicely to come down.

 

The jar wiggled on the shelf and stopped. Nadia sighed. “Please. I’m really hungry!” She lifted up her arms and once again “asked” it to come down.

 

The jar wiggled again, sliding close to the edge. Nadia thought at it a little harder, imagining it coming into her hands (though it was a really big jar and wouldn’t fit there).

 

The jar pulled away from the shelf, hovering in mid-air. Ugh, this was tough! It was making her head hurt more than her tummy. It was hard asking it not to fall as she pulled on it.

 

“Please come down nicely. Please come down nicely.”

 

The jar dropped hard a couple times (not hitting anything though), but eventually Nadia was able to coax it down to the floor. It was right at her feet, all that tasty fruit close enough to almost touch.

 

Almost – there was still a lid. But that was going to be easier than asking it to come down and not break. The lid was very large – the size of her hand with her fingers splayed all the way out. After trying to grab the edges of it like a steering wheel and push didn’t work, she tried again, this time thinking at it.

 

“Open, please.”

 

The lid obeyed, spinning off so fast that it flew away and knocked into the wall. Oops! But success at last. The thick, cloying scent reached her nose and ruby-red hunks of fruit in its own thick, sticky-sweet juice was all hers.

 

Greedily, she plunged both hands into the wide mouth of the jar and pulled out a big piece, mouth watering at the very sight. It was big and beautifully red, dripping from the skin. She marveled for a second before taking a big bite.

 

Yum! She gobbled three more bites until she felt a sour taste in her mouth and heard Daddy’s footsteps a second later.

 

“Nadia, what in the world are you doing?!”

 

Uh-oh. That’s what the sour taste was. Daddy was upset.

 

****

 

Tobas was nursing a headache of his own by the time he left his office. The Monarchs may have been elected on a platform of greater engagement with the galaxy, but it did not mean that they were going to agree to a flagrantly unequal trade deal. Worse, the isolationist opposition faction was busy pointing out the flaws of the Treaty of Courscant and arguing that the last thing their planet needed was to get tied up in someone else’s war, even if their best export was personal armor and small arms design.

 

He was looking for Nadia when he went in the direction of the kitchen only to see the massive jar of har’kan floating in the air and right down to Nadia’s feet. He was too stunned to speak, thinking he maybe imagined it before seeing Nadia try opening the lid with her hands, and failing, then trying it with her hands and her mind and succeeding.

 

A massive jar she shouldn’t have been able to reach, much less lift, much less get open, and it was on the floor, wide open, with his four-year-old child devouring the contents.

 

“Nadia, what in the world are you doing?!”

 

She jerked up in shock a split second before he spoke (how could she do that?) “I was hungry!” Nadia explained guiltily, hands, mouth, and parts of her hair dyed crimson from stuffing her face with candied fruit.

 

Tobas looked at the clock. Damn it all – that conversation had taken hours and it was well past lunchtime. Little wonder Nadia had taken it upon herself to eat, but it was the how that scared him.

 

Nadia must have sensed his fears. His girl was always sensitive to the moods of those around her, a level of perception that was terrifying in a young child. “Daddy, are you mad at me?”

 

Pushing aside fear for the moment, he reverted back to a parent’s role, dealing with the here and now. “Not so much, Nadia. I should have realized it went past mealtime. But you’ll give yourself a stomachache eating too much of that at once. Get to the sink and wash up. I’ll put this away.”

 

Nadia got to her feet and walked towards the fresher. Tobas picked up the jar and looked at the shelf where she had pulled it from. It was high enough that even a large man like him needed a stepladder, and the jar itself was thick glass, held five liters, and had a tightly sealed lid. It weighed at least five kilos.

 

It was easy enough to ignore her making her toys dance or explain away things falling from shelves, but she’s getting stronger. Worse, I have no idea why she can do this. Maykia, what would you do?

 

Searches across the local holonet came up empty, and the closest thing he had seen to this were pictures in the forest-taken ruins he and Maykia had explored before Nadia was born; half-imagined tales of shamans and mystics working miracles, old superstition. There was nothing on Sarkhai that could explain how a four-year-old child could move heavy things simply from willing them to move.

 

But the Republic was vast. Many cultures, many species, many planets. Maybe some of them, maybe one of them, could explain this. Maybe someone out there could help her.

 

Because he couldn’t.

 

Edited February 21, 2014 by Allronix

[bright_ephemera]

I remember a long time ago we wondered whether this thread was going to get closed at 1000 posts. Joke’s on us…now we have not only 4691 posts, but as of Allronix’s “A Jar of Trouble”, 2000 stories. And that means it’s time for a stats post! (Our previous milestones were at 500, 1000, and 1500 stories.)

 

72 authors, of whom 56 are repeat contributors, have joined in the fun, generating in total 3.17 stories per day, adding up to a whopping 1,888,871 words. By volume that's equivalent to the entire Harry Potter series, the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy, and the entire Hunger Games trilogy.

 

Longest: The longest outside a series is Ereiniel’s Teachers and Heroes at 5676 words. The longest multi-post story is DarthSillyMonkey's The Fenn’rys Jobs, which weighs in at 40219 words.

Shortest: irishfino's There's No Off Switch with Aldrdinar. Unless you're counting Nalenne's single-word contribution to bright_ephemera's four-part Tauntaun Roundup.

The Old Faithful Club: Striges and kabeone have posted at least one story per month ever since the SFC was founded!

 

Story Counts:

 

Most Popular Prompts:

http://i1242.photobucket.com/albums/gg522/bright_ephemera/Misc%20SWTOR/2000%20Stories/01_prompts.png

 

Word Count Distribution:

http://i1242.photobucket.com/albums/gg522/bright_ephemera/Misc%20SWTOR/2000%20Stories/02_wordcount.png

 

 

Posts by Month:

http://i1242.photobucket.com/albums/gg522/bright_ephemera/Misc%20SWTOR/2000%20Stories/03_storybymonth.png

 

Author word counts:

http://i1242.photobucket.com/albums/gg522/bright_ephemera/Misc%20SWTOR/2000%20Stories/26b79101-c3fb-4996-b0e1-34108b833f3c.png

 

 

 

Classes:

 

Featured Story Classes by story count:

http://i1242.photobucket.com/albums/gg522/bright_ephemera/Misc%20SWTOR/2000%20Stories/05_storyclasses.png

 

 

Featured story classes by word count :

The overall bars indicate the word count of all stories featuring each class. The top three most prolific characters of each class have their individual word counts called out in blue, red, and green, with the contributions of the rest in purple. These most-prolific characters are also listed by name below the chart.

http://i1242.photobucket.com/albums/gg522/bright_ephemera/Misc%20SWTOR/2000%20Stories/06_classesbywords.png

 

Broken down from the graph above…Story classes and word count with three most prolific characters per class:

• Trooper: 446907 words (driven by Mallayse Lauren (alaurin), Vierce Savins (bright_ephemera), and Tiannya Valeskanovaya (alaurin))
  
• Bounty Hunter: 381815 words (driven by Drokk’it (DarthSillyMonkey), Katrynka Valeskanovaya (alaurin), and Jesp Rixik (Striges))
  
• Agent: 376013 words (driven by Wynston (bright_ephemera), Kinka Stormageddon (marissalf), and Fenn’rys (DarthSillyMonkey))
  
• Smuggler: 365433 words (driven by Valaya Tarenz (alaurin), Belladonya Lauren (alaurin), and Miriah Chantalle (Magdalane))
  
• Warrior: 284712 words (driven by Ruth Niral (bright_ephemera), Varrel Umrahiel (Striges), and Mellekor (bright_ephemera))
  
• Knight: 204223 words (driven by Remi Syeriy (kabeone), Maldecka the Kid (Lady-Jean), and Jasin (YoshiRaphElan))
  
• Inquisitor: 127534 words (driven by Ananz (bright_ephemera), Xania (Selentar), and Veresia Martell (Lesaberisa))
  
• Consular: 102893 words (driven by Jurial (Striges), Shira’Kian (DarthSillyMonkey), and Allissya Lauren (alaurin))
  

 

(This adds up to more than the 1.8 million full-thread total because stories featuring two classes are counted for each class.)

 

Well Rounded: Striges, Earthmama, Lesaberisa, DarthSillyMonkey, and YoshiRaphElan have each written about all eight classes.

 

 

OCs (Original Characters):

 

The Gang’s All Here: More than 470 uniquely named OCs have appeared on the thread!

 

Among OCs who have appeared 3 or more times (may exclude a handful whose data I couldn't ascertain)...

 

OC classes (among game-story OCs):

http://i1242.photobucket.com/albums/gg522/bright_ephemera/Misc%20SWTOR/2000%20Stories/4fbf6c6d-07e0-4612-91e2-6ff08af460b4.png

 

Room for Growth: Only one new Bounty Hunter has taken up residence in the last 500 stories. The fastest-growing crowds were the Agent and Trooper, which got five new characters each.

Why, Hello There: Every two-class crossover combination has appeared on this thread.

 

OC class and gender breakdown:

http://i1242.photobucket.com/albums/gg522/bright_ephemera/Misc%20SWTOR/2000%20Stories/08_OCsbyclassandgender.png

 

 

Undeclared: 50 of our recurring OCs – 22 men, 26 women, 2 droids – stand outside a class role.

 

OC species among recurring characters:

http://i1242.photobucket.com/albums/gg522/bright_ephemera/Misc%20SWTOR/2000%20Stories/16_species_corrected.png

 

 

 

OC Affiliations:

http://i1242.photobucket.com/albums/gg522/bright_ephemera/Misc%20SWTOR/2000%20Stories/10_OCaffiliations.png

 

 

 

Locations:

 

Top ten busiest universes by story count:

http://i1242.photobucket.com/albums/gg522/bright_ephemera/Misc%20SWTOR/2000%20Stories/11_Universes.png

 

 

Planets and Ships:

http://i1242.photobucket.com/albums/gg522/bright_ephemera/Misc%20SWTOR/2000%20Stories/12_StorySettings.png

 

 

You Can’t Get There From Here: Thanks to YoshiRaphElan, Toprawa is the most popular fic location that cannot be reached in game.

Meet You There Anyway: Three non-game systems have attracted more than one author: Dantooine, Mirial and Mandalore.

 

 

NPCs:

 

Companions:

http://i1242.photobucket.com/albums/gg522/bright_ephemera/Misc%20SWTOR/2000%20Stories/13_companions.png

 

Behind the Curve: The least popular Bounty Hunter, Knight, and Trooper companions all show up more frequently than the most popular Consular companion.

Assemble the Team: Starting from the top, you would need to recruit all the way down to Vector (9th place) to get all party roles (melee DPS, ranged DPS, melee tank, ranged tank, healer).

Tell Me The Odds: Throw a dart at this thread and there's a 10.25% chance you'll hit Jorgan. There’s a 10.25% chance you'll hit Quinn. There’s a 0.1% chance you’ll hit both Jorgan and Quinn!

 

Top Guest NPCs:

http://i1242.photobucket.com/albums/gg522/bright_ephemera/Misc%20SWTOR/2000%20Stories/14_featurednpcs.png

 

 

 

Hookups:

 

 

Top Ten Kissy Couples:

 

• Miriah/Corso (Magdalane)
  
• Rochester/Broan (Tatile)
  
• Remi/Scourge (kabeone)
  
• Kinka/Vector (marissalf)
  
• Sana/Jorgan (iamthehoyden)
  
• Ruth/Quinn (bright_ephemera)
  
• Vierce/Elara (bright_ephemera)
  
• Ayrs/Elara (Lesaberisa)
  
• Bella/Corso (alaurin)
  
• Mallayse/Jorgan (alaurin)
  

 

Most Active Companions (by number of characters hooked up with them):

http://i1242.photobucket.com/albums/gg522/bright_ephemera/Misc%20SWTOR/2000%20Stories/15_companionhookups.png

 

 

 

And that’s what we look like at 2000 stories. Write on!

Edited February 21, 2014 by bright_ephemera

[kabeone]

Yay stats! Thanks for doing this, bright.

 

(Also, thanks to alaurin for keeping up the index, you and bright are awesome.)

[alaurin]

Got a quick, sorta silly story to throw up before the prompt changes. I'll catch up on my reading, comment, and update the Index tomorrow.

 

**I do want to thank Bright for the stats post though! That has to be a lot of work to keep up and it is so much fun to see! WooHoo, Jorgan tied with Quinn! Squee.....both Mallay and Bella made the kissy cut! Also, holy crap......I can't believe I've written that much! Again Bright, thank you so very, very much for doing this!!!

 

 

Now, for a story....

 

Title: A Cure For the Blues

Prompt: Love Letters/Secret Valentine

Character: Roslynd-JK

Setting: Defender, after A Damaged Soul and before Tis the Season.

Spoilers: Spoilers for the ending to JK Act 2

 

 

 

“There is no emotion, only peace,” Ros muttered trying to reign in her temper as she clutched the sheet of paper in her hand, “except where Doc is concerned…..I get no peace!”

 

Negative emotions surfaced more easily in the young Jedi Knight ever since the Emperor took over her mind a few months ago. During that time, she was steeped in the Dark side of the force, learning to use it as a Sith, then unleashing it on her friends. She still felt guilt consume her whenever she dwelled too much on what she did to Kira and Rusk and felt revulsion at the memory of Doc deflowering her……at her own request. I can’t blame him for that…..I came on to him after all, she admitted to herself, not that I had any control, but neither did he.

 

Ros had spoken with Kira, Doc, and Rusk when she began to remember the things she did under the Emperor’s control. Kira and Rusk were quick to assure her that they didn’t blame her and she had nothing to feel guilty about. Kira was a good friend and tried to cheer her up on a daily basis, but Ros just lost her enjoyment of…..everything. It alarmed her a little that she was so consumed with guilt, anger, and hate. Those were emotions that led one down a dark path. However, their newest crew member insisted that she needed to stop trying to bury her emotions and learn to harness them. Scourge told her that she was special, unique, the one from his vision…..the one that could defeat the Emperor once and for all. To do that, she would need to be strong and learn to use the Force as she knew it now…….utilize her strengths, even if some of them came from emotions. It was Lord Scourge that got her out of her pity party funk by telling her she was useless wallowing in her own guilt and misery. He confronted her one morning while she was crying in the cockpit, telling her she needed to let the memories return in full, accept what she did, and move on or she would never be able to confront and defeat the Emperor.

 

Ros did as the large Sith demanded, knowing he was right and hating him for it. Hate……so much hate inside her. She missed the laughter, but didn’t know how to make it return. She meditated for hours whenever time allowed, letting the memories return and dealing with them head on. She kept to herself for the most part since, only interacting with the others when necessary. She missed the closeness her and Kira once shared, the pranks they pulled on Doc, the times they bugged Rusk to relax a little and have some fun. With a sigh, Ros read the note over once again.

 

 

Hey Beautiful! Ole Doc hates such a lovely lady look so blue, so I came up with a cure of all that ails you. Meet me in the med bay at 1600 and be prepared for the time of your life.

 

Your friendly Doc

 

 

Apparently threatening the persistant medic with castration by lightsaber wasn’t enough to deter him from hitting on her. The note had been left on her bed with a single red rose while she was showering this morning. She wished he’d gotten the point after their little chat when her memories returned. He thought since she slept with him once, she would be willing to do so again. It didn’t matter that it took the darkest force user in the galaxy controlling her mind to make her have sex with him that one and only time, he still held out hope. Ros decided to head down to the medbay and hopefully this time, she’d get through, otherwise, she was going to demand he leave the ship for good.

 

She heard voices outside the medbay as she quietly descended the stairs. She paused, listening in hopes of getting some idea of what lay ahead of her.

 

“Ugh, I can’t look anymore,” Kira’s snarky voice rang out, “She’s going to be really unhappy.”

 

“Maybe one of us should keep her from coming down here until we deal with the situation,” Rusk’s deep voice suggested.

 

“I’m not going anywhere near that thing,” Scourge sneered, “I’ve seen a lot of disturbing things over the past centuries, but even I have my limits.”

 

Oh, that can’t be good, Ros mused, if it’s enough to disturb Scourge……

 

“I’ve seen a lot in my military career, but nothing like this,” Rusk agreed, “I’m not touching him.”

 

“I’m not touching him either!” Kira insisted, “but I agree with Rusk, Ros doesn’t need to see this……what the hell were you thinking anyways?!”

 

“Ole Doc was trying to be romantic……I didn’t know this would happen!”

 

“How many times does she have to tell you she’s not interested,” Kira retorted, “Maybe if you’d listen and let that fact sink in, you might not find yourself in this predicament…….and we wouldn’t have this grotesque image burned into our minds.”

 

Rusk + Kira = Distract Jedi///T7 = Take care of Doc///Lord Scourge =/= No Killing Doc

 

Ros sighed and finished descending the steps, finally seeing Kira, Rusk, Scourge, and T7 all gathered outside the doorway to the medbay. Scourge was the first one to sense her and a small smile curved his full lips.

 

“You don’t have to worry about me killing him, Roslynd might though,” he nodded at her.

 

“Uh, Ros…..you might just want to let us deal with this…..”

 

“No Kira,” Ros held up her hand, “Apparently I need to have yet another chat with ‘Ole Doc’ and it’s best to just get it over with.”

 

She moved past her former padawan and friend, to finally see what surprise Doc had in store for her. She certainly wasn’t prepared for the sight that met her eyes. There were pink, white, and red flowers everywhere, and the bed was made up in red satin sheets. There was a box of candy on the pillow and a bottle of champagne sitting in an ice bucket on a nearby table. The man himself was hanging suspended from the ceiling by two cables, clad in only a skintight pair of red sequined shorts and a pair of white feathery wings strapped to his back. He held a small harp in one hand and began to play a romantic tune when he spotted her in the doorway.

 

She just froze there, taking the ridiculousness of it all in as the others stared, awaiting her reaction. Before she could stop it, a giggle escaped her and she couldn’t stop. A moment later, she was doubled over with laughter, tears streaming down her eyes.

 

“Oh, it hurts……oh my stars, I think that’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” she choked, clutching her stomach, unable to stop laughing and not really wanting to since it felt so cleansing, washing away the hate and anger.

 

Her laughter was contagious and pretty soon Kira started to giggle with her, happy to hear that infectious laughter after so long of it being absent. Rusk watched as Ros hugged Kira, her silver eyes looking happy for the first time since the assault on the Emperor’s fortress and his heart felt lighter hearing her joyful laughing once again. Even Scourge gave a chuckle before retreating upstairs.

 

“It wasn’t supposed to be funny,” Doc called out, crossing his arms in front of him as he dangled from the ceiling, “and can someone get me down?”

 

“Well, Doc, you said you had a cure for the blues,” Ros grinned, handing the note to Kira, “and you did succeed in that, so I’ll cut you down, but the next time you try to treat me like anything other than the leader of this crew, you’re gone……got it?” She ignited one of her sabers and did just that, then turned to Kira, Rusk, and T7, “Now, how about we go out and have a little fun.”

 

“Hey, I’m all for that,” Doc called out.

 

“I didn’t ask you,” Ros smirked, “Besides, you have this mess to clean up……this is the medbay, not a cheap hotel room. Try to remember that in the future.”

 

“Serves you right, idiot,” Kira snorted at the pouting medic as Ros went back upstairs. Then she turned to Rusk and smiled when she noticed he was staring at the pretty Jedi as she went climbed the stairs. While nowhere near the empath Ros’ twin Lissa was, she could feel the emotions pouring off the Chagrian, “Wow, Rusk…….you’ve got it bad.”

 

“I don’t…..”

 

“You do,” Kira interrupted his protest, “and unlike Doc, that’s a good thing.”

 

“But she’s a Jedi……she doesn’t want that,” he muttered, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment that he forgot to watch his thoughts, “I have no right to even think about her that way…..for many reasons.”

 

“She doesn’t want that with Doc,” Kira countered, grabbing him by the arm and leading him upstairs, “With you on the other hand……yeah, I can see that.”

 

Edited February 21, 2014 by alaurin

[YoshiRaphElan]

Wow, bright_ephemera, thanks for that post!

 

Hey, thanks to that I feel that I've contributed to this thread! I'm happy, if only for prideful reasons, to see my name up there more than once! To everyone else, you're all doing wonderful jobs and it's astounding how many Quinns and Jorgans we have! Keep up the writing, everyone! (But write more Male Knights. Jasin is outnumbered.)

[Morgani]

*Screams into the void* I'm still incredibly prolific here despite not having posted for an age! It's a sign. I need to write again.

 

I... I do need to write.

 

*slinks away into the shadows*

 

----------------------

 

I love the stats posts bright makes. I feel the need to tip Jorgan over top of Quinn. *goes back to study the stats again*

[DarthSillyMonkey]

What can one say? Awesome. I remember the last time you did this, I hadn't been here for long, and here you are doing it again. Thanks for taking the time out to put that together for us!

 

And of course, quick thanks to Alaurin for maintaining the master list! Without which, I'd spend more time searching for my previous tales than I would actually writing.

[marissalf]

Whoa, stats! I love these posts; thanks so much for putting all that together, Bright! Totally can't believe I've written that much. And thanks to alaurin, too, for tackling the index. I can't tell you how much I use this.

 

Keep up the awesome writing everybody!

[Striges]

Bright Massive Stats Post! I love these! Given I prefer nonhuman characters (I play a human 24/7, why would I be human in a game?), I find it interesting that Humans are by far the most numerous species. They outnumber the next most popular species (Chiss) more than 3:1.

 

And wow, I published at least one thing per month since the thread started.

 

Anyway, have a short story for the current prompt before Friday. Selected commentary to follow.

 

Prompt: Love Letters and Secret Valentines

 

Character: Vashutarl, Jedi Guardian, Ian Kughel, Republic Soldier. Brief appearance by Kira Carsen.

 

No major spoilers. Takes place on Taris so vague spoilers for JK Taris and chapter one, only mentioned in passing.

 

 

 

 

Dearest Ian,

 

I hope this letter finds you safe and well. I have not heard from you since you shipped off Coruscant. I know your new assignment is remote and it is unlikely you will be able to return my correspondence. Our letters never seem to reach each other in the right order. Like at the tea room where we first met. I almost didn't go. I was embarrassed at the whole situation. I am so glad now that I did.

 

Our time together was so short, so precious. Not a day goes by that I do not think of you. I remember your voice. I remember your humor. I remember your smile and your eyes. Those things are always together in my mind. The smile in your eyes and the laugh in your soul. Yours is a special gift, Ian. You make me feel normal. When we are together, I remember I am a person who happens to be a Jedi, not a Jedi who happens to be Human.

 

We are both so defined by our roles. You as a soldier, I as a Jedi. It is easy to forget why we became those things. To forget we are also people. People who love and cry and yes, laugh. There is not enough laughter in the galaxy. I long to hear your voice again, sharing your good humor with me, letting me laugh and be myself.

 

I also remember my promise. To teach you to dance. Attached is a recording of a piece of music I enjoy. It is not from my homeworld; I have no recordings from Atrisia. But it is very like a song for the turning of the year. I don’t know what season it it where you are. I don't know you have seasons there. Even if there are not, I would like to think that when we next meet, it will be a new year for us anyway. A new year with new beginnings and new chances.

 

Write to me when you can. If you can. I don’t care how long its been. I still have your last letter. Your last words to me. I will treasure them always because they come from you, from your heart.

 

I will continue to write, and trust my words find you.

 

Love always, Vashutarl.

 

 

 

 

Vashutarl turned off the datapad and stared at the dark screen.

 

“Returned again?” Kira asked.

 

“Expired return, yes,” Vashutarl replied.

 

Kira peered over her master's shoulder, "Expired. He's Republic Military. You could ask them to look into it."

 

Vashutarl met the reflection of her padawan’s eyes, “Only immediate family can request deploy information.”

 

Kira’s grin peered back at her, “So you’ve checked,” she said.

 

Vashutarl’s eyebrows furrowed, “I checked.” She blinked. Twice. She checked after the second letter came back unopened. The form listed permissible relationships, and what she and Ian had wasn’t one of them. Not...not yet. Maybe...maybe someday...Vashutarl pushed the thought aside and recovered her composure. She’d not pursued the matter further at the time because it smacked of abuse of authority. “He said he was going somewhere remote and he probably wouldn’t be able to receive messages in the field.”

 

“Sure. Understandable,” Kira agreed, “How many is it, now?”

 

“Too many,” Vashutarl said. She scratched at the blank screen with her finger. She ran through the possibilities with every returned letter. He was unable to receive her messages because of no communications. The squad was on secret maneuvers and he was unable to receive any messages at all. He wanted to break off but was too embarrassed to tell her. He found someone else and was too embarrassed to tell her.

 

He was dead. Killed in action. Killed during exercise.

 

All of Rancor Squad were killed.

 

Vashutarl took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. It was none of these. No ordinary thing. She knew it. She never mastered the directed-meditation techniques that were supposed to grant visions. Her grasp of the Force was more intuitive, more by the moment, and at this moment she knew there was something very wrong. Jedi were supposed to look out for people. Did it matter if her concern were personal? Rancor Squad was more than just Ian. Other people would be worried. If they weren’t, they should be.

 

Vashutarl set the datapad aside and stood. Maybe it wasn’t all that important in the grand scheme of things. Maybe she couldn’t help. But she did know who could.

 

Kira backed away a step, “Master Vashutarl?” she asked.

 

Vashutarl turned back to her, projecting what she hoped was a calm confidence, “General Var Suthra owes me a favor,” she said.

 

“A favor? You’re going to holo him?” Kira asked, incredulous. She gestured at the rubble outside Doctor Godera’s purported lab on Taris, “Here?”

 

“Yes,” Vashutarl replied.

 

“You expect to get through?” Kira asked.

 

Vashutarl reached for her portable holo, “We’re on a ruined planet, kilometers from anywhere, with minimal repeat transmitters and an obvious Imperial presence. Yet the letter I sent to Ian had no difficulty reaching me. So why is it he cannot receive mine?”

 

“Good point,” Kira said, “call.”

 

[Mirdthestrill]

Wow, impressive post, Bright! You should get extra credit for your high school or college stat class. (Retroactive if you're not still a student) I'm really impressed with how much effort everyone has expended over the years, and that word count is something! For the super prolific posters, you do realize that the novels are like 85,000 words right? So that's several full novels for a lot of you, great work.

 

Just wondering, is Ketturah the one new bounty hunter you mentioned, or does she fall under uncategorized because she hasn't actually done any bounty hunting yet?

 

I've finally finished the thing that was originally supposed to be a short response to the Synchronicity prompt, so here we go:

 

First Blood, Part 2

Prompt: Synchronicity, My First

Characters: Mallena Dayne (trooper), Ketturah Atridies (bounty hunter)

Word Count: approx. 3,000

 

Take place immediately after Part 1

 

 

Ketturah stopped in front of the alley. There was no sign of the Evocci. Of course, he didn’t know when or if she had left. And who know why he had been there anyway? Which direction had he gone? Turning around to face the street, she recreated the scene in her mind. Left, he had gone left. She resumed her jog.

 

Finding him couldn’t be that hard. He only had a half-hour’s head start, and judging by his behavior earlier, he wasn’t in a particular hurry. Probably looking for a place to hole up today or scrounging for food. Like me, Ketturah thought, but pushed away the pity. The Evocci had been stupid enough to steal from the Exchange, and would get a lot worse from any bounty hunters who were after him. Besides, she wasn’t going to kill him. She wouldn’t even hurt him if he gave the money up without a fuss.

 

She caught a flash of what might have been an Evocci ducking into a store. Slowing to a brisk walk, she took a look at the storefront. Used clothing, by the look of it. She tucked inside, trying to look inconspicuous.

 

Her target stood next to a rack of garish tunics. She needed to be quiet, and she could slip up and surprise him.

Something caught her foot and she stumbled forward. The Evocci gave one terrified glance over his shoulder and bolted, leaping over the counter and running through a back door.

 

Muttering expletives, Ketturah shoved the offending clothes rack aside. She vaulted over the counter and dashed after her target, ignoring the shopkeeper’s protests.

 

 

The column of smoke was becoming taller and thicker as they approached it. Mallena sniffed. “That doesn’t smell like a brush fire.”

 

“Stay alert,” ordered Ishatiel unnecessarily. She pulled her rifle off her should. Mallena and Tor did likewise. Keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings, they climbed the hill. When they neared the top, Ishatiel ordered them to drop to the ground and crawl the rest of the way. The farmhouse should be just on the other side.

 

Mallena’s mouth dropped open. Not just one building was burning, but all five, barn and sheds as well as the house. Livestock milled around and a cluster of swoop bikes sat near the edge of the compound. Mallena didn’t see any sign of the family that owned the place, but a couple of thuggish-looking humans stood in the center of the scene. As she watched, two Deveronians and a Wequay appeared around the corner of the barn.

 

The group conferred for a moment, then started to walk toward the swoops, which Mallena noticed were laden with bundles. A flicker of movement caught her eye, and she saw a small figure run out of the flaming barn. It didn’t look like the attackers had seen it, though.

 

Ishatiel had been mumbling into her comlink for the last few minutes, and now she leaned over to Mallena. “On my signal, I want you to take out the human female. Tell Tor to get the Wequay. Then follow me.”

 

Mallena frowned as she passed the message on. She was no sniper, and it would be dicey to avoid hitting the civilian, who had disappeared behind the buildings but might reappear at any moment. “Did you see that kid?” she whispered back.

 

“Yeah. Don’t worry, our shots won’t penetrate the entire building at this distance, and he won’t come out once the shooting starts.”

 

At least it wasn’t a long shot. The woman walked back toward her bike and started to fiddle with the load. She had a clear shot… no, wait. Tor’s man had gone behind another swoop. There he was again…

 

Ishatiel kicked her in the leg. Mallena closed her finger on the trigger.

 

 

Ketturah found herself in an odd sort of hallway that appeared to run between two rows of stores. Her Evocci was just ducking through a doorway on her left. She followed.

 

The door led into a restaurant populated by various reptilian-looking species and decorated in brilliant greenish-blue. Ketturah gasped. The air here had been enriched with something that made her nose run and her eyes sting. Coughing, she pulled her sleeve over her nose and raced past startled patrons to the door. It opened and she fairly stumbled into the airlock. The second door opened painfully slowly for her adrenaline-saturated nerves, but finally she could squeeze through.

 

Her heart sank. There was no sign of the Evocci. Then, she spotted his greasy balck hair bobbing along the next block. She took off again.

 

Her breath came in gasps. Mallena had always been the distance runner, she had been the one who sprinted. He started running as she approached, turning into an alley. Ketturah followed, but found her way blocked by a tower of boxes. He must have gone over.

 

The crates teetered as she scrambled onto them. She half-fell to the cround on the other side and caught her balance on the wall. Where had he gone? The alley was a dead end with no doors and no sign of him. But he ahd come down here, she was sure of it…

 

Her eye fell on something on the wall. A ladder, attached about halfway up the sie of the building, an old fire escape maybe. The boxes were piled so she might be able to reach it. Balencing carefully on the topmost one, she reached for the bottom rung.

 

It evaded the tips of her fingers by about an centimeter. “Kriffing shortness,” she muttered. She was going to fall soon, and every moment, the Evocci could be getting further away. She jumped.

 

Her shoulder wrenched as her fingers closed around the rung and her knee slammed into the wall. Wincing, she searched for foot traction to pull herself up. By the time her feet rested firmly on the ladder, her arms throbbed and her hands felt raw from the pitted metal. I should start working out or something, she thought as she climbed. A pair of gloves wouldn’t hurt either. Well, if she finished this, she could buy a hundred pairs of gloves.

 

She stopped before she reached the top. If the Evocci was waiting for her up there, he could be armred. Even if he wasn’t, she didn’t want him trying anything like pushing her off the edge. She pulled her blaster out of its holster.

 

 

The trigger slit back smoothly as Mallena fired her rifle. A green bolt struck the human female in the chest a fraction of a second before Ishatiel’s and Tor’s shots also found their marks.

I

mmediately, the other three drew their weapons, looking around for the source of the shots. A blaster bolt streaked over Mallena’s head and she could hear Ishatiel swearing as they careened down the slope. It was steeper than she had expected, but she managed to keep her balance. Firing again, she caught one of the Deveroninas in the gut and he staggered.

 

The shots ceased abruptly. All six of the intruders lay on the ground, injured or killed. Mallena trained her rifle on the two that still appeared to be functional. Tor moved forward to collect their weapons before retreating out of knife range again. “A detachment from the garrison should be here in-“ began Ishatiel, but broke off and fell to the ground.

 

“Tor, what’s wrong with her?” said Mallena. He had undergone some field medicine training while they were both recruits.

 

He rushed to her side and started checking her over. “She’s been shot, but it looks like she’ll live. We need to get her back to the outpost quickly, though.”

 

Mallena bit her lip. She hoped the detachment showed up soon. A face poked around the corner of the barn, then disappeared with a cry. “We’re from the Republic,” she called. “Don’t worry, we won’t hurt you.”

 

The boy came out fully. He was human, about eight or nine years old, with shaggy, dark-brown hair and legs that stuck out from his too-short pants. He reminded Mallena of her younger brothers. “Where’s your family?” she said.

 

“Behind the house? I don’t know. I hid when they came.” He pointed at the raiders, looking close to tears.

 

“Alright, it’ll be OK.” She risked another look at the other two. Tor was still working on Ishatiel. “Tor, I need you to go look for his family. Bring them over here if they’re not hurt.” Hopefully he didn’t resent her taking charge, but someone had to. She addressed the boy again. “What’s your name?”

 

“Telin.”

 

She had to get him out of her line of fire in case one of the raiders tried something reckless. “Telin, can you come over here? Stay away from them, though.” She gestured at the men on the ground. He circled around toward her, trading glares with the only one who was still sitting up, a male human with dark hair.

 

“What do you want me to do?”

 

Mallena jerked her head at Ishatiel. “Try and make her comfortable. We’ve ordered backup, they should be here soon.” If her commander was in bad shape, it might traumatize the kid even more, but someone had to do it, and the alternative was to send him off to look for his family- and who know what state they were in- or hand him her gun. This was definitely the safest option.

 

A movement caught her eye and she switched to cover it, relaxing as she realized it was only Tor. He was supporting a human man on his shoulder, probably the boy’s father. He limped, but seemed alright otherwise. A woman came after them and even from a distance, Mallena could see the smile appear on both their faces.

 

“Mum! Dad!” shouted Telin, running toward them. His mother embraced him as Tor helped the father to sit on the grass before going over to check on Ishatiel.

 

Mallena was just about to ask if she was alright when one of the human males lept to his feet and charged at her, screaming incoherently.

 

She knew she should be terrified, but it felt strangely natural to raise her rifle, fire once, twice. The man crumpled to the ground and through the ringing in her ears, Mallena heard speeders. The garrison had arrived.

 

 

Climbing a ladder while holding a blaster was harder than Ketturah thought it would be. As she pulled herself onto the ledge, she kept watch for the Evocci. She didn’t see him, but the ledge wrapped around to the front of the building.

 

Picking up a handful of debris and broken tiles, she tossed them one at a time into the alley below. Hopefully, he would think that was her leaving. Blaster at the ready, she pressed her back against the wall and crept along sideways. The footing felt unstable, like it was going to collapse any minute.

 

Soon, she reached a place where the metal had sheared away entirely. It wasn’t a long jump, but it would be hard to make quietly. She inched to the very edge before hopping sideways. The ledge gave a little when her feet touched it and she froze, but it stayed firm and she kept going. Finally, she reached the front of the building and stopped.

 

Her target probably knew she was there. She had made enough racket to wake up a sleeping Hutt. Was he armed? Ketturah didn’t know, but she probably shouldn’t just waltz around the corner and expect him to surrender.

Dropping into a crouch, she scooted out as quickly as she could. In the second it took for the Evocci to target her, she had her blaster pointed at his face. “Don’t move,” she said.

 

The pistol in his hand shook, but he kept hold of it. “I could shoot you right now, little girl.”

 

“And I would shoot back and then we’d both be dead. Just give me the money and you can leave.”

 

“It’s mine anyway. Ugoni hasn’t paid me for months. You know if you give it back to him you’ll never see a credit, right? He’s such a dirty, thieving-“

 

Ketturah stopped paying attention. His babbling told her he was nervous. She must be intimidating him, which was a bit ridiculous when she thought about it. She stood up, trying to keep her motion smooth. The Evocci took a step back.

 

Advancing slowly, feeling out her footing so she didn’t have to look down, Ketturah kept her pistol steady on his face. He retreated some more.

 

“Come on you little schutta, you’re really gonna take from hardworking, honest beings like me and give it to the filth-rich crime lords who don’t do anything but-“

 

“Shut up.” He was backed up against a large sign now. She had him.

 

Suddenly, he dived in a blur of motion. Ketturah’s shot just missed him and she swore under her breath. He had jumped to the street below, prompting shouts of astonishment and curious looks from passerby. It was a long way down. She shoved her pistol back in its holster. There wasn’t time to climb back down the ladder. She jumped.

 

The street hit her with a jolt that sent pain shooting up her leg and knocked her off her feet. She had to get up, he was getting away. But as she stood, she realized that the Evocci was only a few feet away from where he had landed, dragging himself along the ground and obviously in pain.

 

Ketturah pulled out her blaster again and approached him. “Just give up,” she said, holding the muzzle of her gun an inch from his forehead. “I don’t want to shoot you, and I don’t think you want to die either.”

 

The evooci made a noise in his throat that sounded like a growling Manka cat and dropped his blaster. Ketturah pulled it away from him with her foot.

 

“Now the money. And no tricks or I shoot.” Every muscle tense, she watched him pull out a wad of credit chips. She took them, ignoring the venomous look he was giving her. “You can go now.” Ketturah watched him scoot away, then picked up his blaster and shoved it into her coat pocket. The small audience that had gathered around them started to leave. Shows like this happened all the time on Nar Shaddaa, and theirs hadn’t been impressive enough to warrant sticking around.

 

 

Mallena sat on her bunk in the barraks, staring at the wall, trying to clear the aftereffects of adrenaline from her body. She had killed two people today. Even saying it to herself, it didn’t sound real.

 

They deserved it, she knew. They had been brigands willing to leave an innocent family for whatever happened along, and they had been trying to kill her and her patrol mates. It still felt odd that it was so easy to end a sentient life. She wished she could talk to her mom.

 

Tor came over to her, carrying a half-assembled rifle. “Mind if I sit down?” he said.

 

“Go ahead.”

 

He sat on the other end of the bunk, where he continued cleaning the weapon. “You did good today,” he said.

Mallena shrugged. “I guess it was OK.”

 

“No, you were great. You stayed calm and didn’t let your guard down when everything seemed safe. Really saved our butts.”

 

“How is Ishatiel? Have you seen her?”

 

“Yeah, right before dinner. She’ll need some rehab before she can use that arm again, but they think she’ll be able to come back to duty in a few months.”

 

“Good.” At least that was one thing off her mind. “And you?”

 

“Not a scratch.” He looked at her sideways. “That was your first kill?”

 

“How did you know?”

 

“I hadn’t heard about one, and you seem kinda upset.”

 

“I’m not upset.”

 

Tor gave her a look that plainly said “are you kidding me?”

 

“It’ll pass,” she said.

 

“It will.” He stud up. “Don’t worry, it just show’s you’re human.” He walked back to his own bunk and started reassembling the rifle.

 

Mallena lay back on her bunk. He was right. What she was feeling was good- it separated her from the brutes that killed for fun. As she lay there, the guild faded a bit, replaced with pride. She had done a good day’s work, though she still wished there had been another way to stop the raiders. But they had been stopped, and the family was OK. She and Tor were fine, and Ishatiel was going to recover. Everything was going to be alright.

 

 

The secretary droid looked at Ketturah with disdain. Or else it had indigestion. “I’m sorry,” it said stiffly, “But Ugoni Vixran isn’t seeing visitors now. Please be on your way.”

 

Ketturah crossed her arms over her chest. She hadn’t come this far to get turned away by a droid. “Tell him I have money for him.”

 

“I’m sorry, but-“

 

“Just do it! Or I’ll keep the money for myself and tell him you stole them!” Ketturah shouted. She was tired and hungry and her leg hurt and she wasn’t in the mood to put up with know-it-all droids.

 

It made a noise akin to a sigh and pressed a button. “Sir, ther’s a child here who says she has money for you.” He paused. “You may go in.”

 

A door to the right of the droid opened and Ketturah walked in. Vixran sat at a table in the center of the room, talking to a pair of thuggish-looking Rodians. He ignored her.

 

Ketturah waited, her patience rapidly evaporating. Didn’t he want the money back? “Sir,” she said, loud enough that he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t heard but not loud enough to qualify as shouting.

 

He spun lazily around in his chair. “I thought I ordered a bounty hunter, not a babysitter. What are you, twelve?”

 

“Fifteen, and what do you care, as long as you’ve got what you want?”

 

He laughed. “What do I care?” He held out his hand for the credits, and Ketturah turned them over. He checked to see that they were all there, then counted out a few chips. “Alright, here’s your three thousand credits, now run along and-“

 

“Your ad said five thousand.”

 

“Four.”

 

“Five.” She met his gaze and held it steady.

 

Vixran’s face cracked into a grin. “Alright little hunter, five it is. Maybe you can finally afford another holster.” He pointed at the Evocci’s blaster in her pocket.

 

Ketturah grabbed the credits and walked out as he turned back to his conversation. Her head was high as she left the Exchange base. The insults hadn’t bothered her much and now she had more money than she had ever had in her life. Maybe she should do this more often.

 

 

 

Note: I've realized that everything that happens in the class stories is kind of synchronicity when you think about it, assuming you follow the in-game timeline.

[sthrift]

Hey yall. I cherry picked a few stories that I felt I HAD to comment on. It's not everybody, I wish I had time for that but I don't.

 

 

Yoshi, your "My Father, My Hero" piece was one of the best reads. Makes one hope that he can be that hero for his kids. Thanks for wonderful story.

 

LaxKnight, "What Would He Do" was a nice one. I could see good things in store for Tevens, if she survived it. Well done Brother.

 

Alaurin, Again I'll heap praise on your sister's stories. Both of them. Didn't know how I was going to like the spin with Kat, but it works. I also really enjoyed "A Cure for the Blues". I don't care much for Doc so seeing him in a compromising position is cool, especially when and how Ros "gets" him down.

 

Bright, damned fine work with the stats. That is an awesome break down. Cudos to you for keeping track and to Alaurin for keeping our stories all organized and stuff. Great work.

 

For everybody else, now that I read everything and enjoy the hell out of it. I also appreciate the comments and I apologize that I don't have time for more.

 

 

And now for Exercise Pt 9, or How I learned to hate Ord Mantel

 

 

Corporal Choun was about three minutes into his very technical explanation of his solution for the units current communications predicament. He was speaking about atmospherics, tuning transponders, acoustics and several –erics, -onders and –stics that Voslic didn’t recognize. He glanced at the first sergeant who shrugged his shoulders, gave Voslic a sour look and shook his head. Voslic hoped the young man would wind down but after another few seconds, it only appeared he was just getting started. Voslic lowered his head and rubbed his temple.

 

“Then I thought if I could re-tune the radial transmitters with the proper…”

 

Voslic held up his hand and made a fist. The Corporal stopped mid-sentence. “Uh, yes sir?”

 

“Basic Corporal, in basic please.”

 

“Sorry sir, I just get a little, well, carried away. I love this ****. Simply, I frequency hop till I find their jamming frequency, tune at least four holo-transmitters to that freq, boost the power, set them around the perimeter, and start transmitting. It’ll either knock them off the air or call hell down on us.”

 

“OK, we knock them off the air. Then what?”

 

“Well then we should be able to transmit on our own frequency with 3rd RID.”

 

Voslic nodded. “Make it happen Son.”

 

“Yes sir!”

 

The First Sergeant cocked his head a little. “Major? Notice anything different?”

 

“Nerf ****. Yeah the bombardment seems to have lifted.” Voslic moved to the opening of the bunker and yelled to the nearest bunker. “PASS IT ON! STAND TO!”

 

Soon the perimeter rang with the calls from pit to pit alerting the men to get ready. Throughout history, an opposing forces have use a preparatory bombardment to “soften up” an objective. The hope is two-fold. First, you want to knock out any heavy weapons and prepared fortifications as you can, there-by denying the enemy firepower and hopefully knocking holes in the defenses that you can exploit to quicken the fight and reduce your casualties. Second, after a long bombardment, the hope is that you will have concussed enough troops (kinda hard to fight when you’re seeing double and your ears are ringing) to open the same holes in the enemy line and reduce your casualties.

 

Voslic reached back on his belt and pulled out a set of macrobinoculars from their case and brought them up to his eyes. He began scanning the perimeter he could see from his current position. After a minute or so, he eased out of the hole and crawled up the berm around the bunker. He cautiously pulled the top of his head just above the top of the bunker and began scanning the rest of the perimeter. He finally slid back down into the hole, a look of confusion on his face.

 

The First Sergeant watched him intently. He did not like the look on the Major’s face. “What’s going on out there?”

 

Voslic reached back and replaced his binos and grabbed his canteen. He took a quick swallow and stood. “Top, if you went through the trouble of laying that kind of barrage on an emplacement, wouldn’t you think to assault through right on the heels of the bombardment?”

 

“Now Major, I aint no tactical genius, but you can bet your bippy I’d sure as hell not waste that kind of ordinance and not at least take a poke at the nest I just stirred up. Why?”

 

“There aint a man-jack out there between us and the surrounding hills.”

 

“You don’t think they would just let us walk do you?”

 

“Not likely Top. And this wasn’t a separatist op either. Not their style, wouldn’t have that many rounds to put on target, they were never that good, even at their high-water mark, and according to all reports, they don’t really exist anymore.”

 

“Then what the hell Major?”

 

Before Voslic could voice his thought, Corporal Choun spoke up from where he sat in front of his comms array. “Ready to go Major. I should be able to do it with three, so we’re going to plant six. Just for good measure.”

 

“I like your measurements. Where do we need to set them up?”

 

“Just around the perimeter.” He stood with a bag and headed toward the opening. The First Sergeant stopped him.

 

“Give me that. Don’t need our comm guy getting dead out there.”

 

Private Than grabbed the bag and was outside before anyone could stop him. He knelt just outside. “We don’t need our top comm guy dead but we also don’t need to lose the rest of the senior people around here, Top. Plus, and no offense, I’m faster than you old guys.” With that he disappeared from view heading to his first waypoint.

 

Top stared at the empty opening. “If he lives I’m gonna kill him for that “old guy” remark.”

 

Voslic chuckled. “Now Top. Don’t go getting your blood pressure all up.”

 

Top gave Voslic an evil look before chuckling himself. “Not you to, SIR?”

 

They say Death stalks the battlefield. More than one commander has probably wished that confusion did to. Instead, confusion bulls it’s way around the battlefield smashing even the best laid plans. Sometimes, confusion is sown by probing one or two positions on a perimeter to get the guys inside looking in that direction then hitting them with the main attack from the opposite direction. Heavy barrages can cause confusion, especially if there are chemical or biological weapons thrown in for good effect. Throw a gas canister in a bunker and watch anyone not protected come scurrying out like so many bugs. Or, you could hit an enemy with a heavy barrage, then start talking to them.

 

Before Voslic could reply to the First Sergeant, that is exactly what the enemy did. They started talking.

 

“TO THE BRAVE MEN AND WOMENT OF THE 124TH RANGER BATTALION, LET ME START BY SAYING THAT THERE IS NO ESCAPE. YOU ARE COMPLETELY SORROUNDED AND TOTALLY CUT-OFF.”

 

Top locked Voslic with an confused angry glare. “Isn’t that..”

 

Voslic nodded as he stared out the hole. “I was thinking this might be the case. Didn’t want to think it but suspected it.”

 

Colonel Van Benarea, Commandant of Fort Garnick’s voice rang loud and clear across the open ground. “I WISH NO FURTHER BLOODSHED. TO THAT EFFORT, I WISH TO AN OFFER TO YOU THAT WILL ALLOW YOU TO PULL BACK TO FORT GARNICK WHERE YOU WILL AWAIT PRIVATE TRANSPORT TO A YET TO BE DETERMINED PLANET WHERE YOU WILL THEN BE RE-PATRIATED BACK TO THE REPUBLIC.”

 

Top spit in the dirt. “My dying ***.”

 

“ALL WE ASK IN RETURN IS THAT YOU TURN MAJOR VOSLIC HALYARD AND ANY MEMBERS OF HAVOC SQUAD THAT ARE WITH YOU OVER TO US. I MAY ALSO REMIND YOU THAT I AM AWARE THAT YOU ARE HERE ON TRAINING RATIONS. RESISTANCE WOULD BE FUTILE. YOU HAVE ONE HOUR TO DECIDE.”

 

The First Sergeant stepped up out of the hole and took a deep breath. At the top of his lungs he bellowed: “NERF ****!”

 

Cheers, cat-calls and taunts rose from the bunkers around the perimeter. Top stood there looking around with his hands on his hips and a smug satisfied smile on his lips. He nodded once and stepped back down into the bunker. A single mortar sounded in the distance.

 

“YES! We’re online Major!” Corporal Choun called from the corner. “Than got all the transmitters planted and set. Now if this works, we’re in business.” He flipped some switches and hit a button. The bunker was suddenly filled with the angry voice of Captain Aric Jorgen.

 

“…is Herf-5, Over! Maker be damned where the hell are you guys?”

 

Voslic grabbed his comm-link. “Five this is Six, Sitrep.”

 

“Damn Skipper, shaken but not stirred. Some casualties but that was mostly guys outside their holes when the barrage started. Yuun and I are good to go. Over.”

 

“Roger that. How’s your command staff over there?”

 

“C.O. is dead, exec wounded but fighting mad. Mostly light shrapnel wounds all the way through the unit.”

 

“You’re in better shape than we are.”

 

“Don’t know about that. We just go a strange communication from Colonel Van Ben-you-over asking the division to give you and the rest of us up for the chance to walk out of here. Got some strange looks like some of them wouldn’t mind doing it. That barrage shook some of the boots (New troops) up pretty bad.”

 

“Roger that, encode your position and be ready for us tonight. I’m going to try and hold this bastard off till then.”

 

“Roger that.”

 

Voslic returned his comm-link to his belt and stepped over to the opening. Single mortar rounds still fell here and there around the perimeter. Top stepped up next to him.

 

“Harassment fire. Right out of the Imperial play book.” Top mentioned as he watched a round explode.

 

“It’s in our playbook to. Here comes Private Than.”

 

The young trooper emerged from a shell hole seventy meters from the bunker. He was all smiles, having known he was successful. He was half way to the bunker when stopped, a look of surprise on his face. The young trooper dropped to his knees and looked down at the hole in his chest. He looked back up and locked eyes with Voslic before toppling forward.

 

Voslic leaned against the bunker. “Another face to remember.” He thought. Beside him, Top cursed and hit the side of the bunker with his fist. The enemy had brought a another weapon into the fight. Snipers now surveyed the battlefield.