The Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread!

[Feldraeth]

Hi again,

 

Comments

 

 

@Alaurin: Distracting a local authority figure before committing a crime is intelligent. Mortifying the guy your sister has chemistry with is amusing, achieving both simultaneously and getting a photo to show said sister is beautifully evil. I approve

 

@Mirdthestrill wait, we don't need plots? Congratulations, you have single handedly quartered my word count

 

Nostalgia: I like the quiet poignancy of the piece. It isn't sad or melodramatic, but it does leave a sense of wistful regret, the kind one gets wandering through old haunts.

 

Girl's night in: This one is so jubilant I almost got mood whiplash after reading the last one . Not sure what else I can contribute since I've no experience with girl's nights in, bizarrely enough. Just one question popped up when I read it the second time. You mention what Eyrie and Jessasi are wearing, and their clothes fit their practical and relaxed personae, and then you conserve detail on Mallena and Feyte. While there is nothing wrong with excluding extraneous details, in this case it implies that they might not be wearing anything. Again, I point out my inexperience with girls' night's in but I assume this isn't the case.

 

 

 

 

Prompt: Mysteries,

Title: The Ghost of the Desert: Observations and Analysis

Perspective: Kaina’zul’anon, Mercenary

Word Count: 2,817

Spoilers: Imperial Tatooine planetary quests, mention to BH Tatooine quest, and a side quest

 

 

 

Remember when I said this wouldn’t take long? I need to fire my inner optimist. I’d expected to turn the corner to find some small dank cave, blast ten maybe twenty infected Palawans, bag Perrin and get out. Instead, I turned the corner and understood why the Sons hadn’t cleared their guard post and blown the entrance: it was beautiful.

 

The cavern was maybe eighty metres in diameter, and thirty metres high. I couldn’t get an accurate fix on the distance because of the pillars. There were five in total, four giant statues of stern looking men holding up the ceiling with their heads, and a glowing gem with each hand. All four glowered at the huge pillar in the centre, which looked like it was covered in little scratches: hardly surprising given the amount of tech up there. Wires and parabolic mirrors snaked around the top, bouncing the afternoon light focussed through a fissure off each crystal to light up the roof. On the roof, hundreds of small mirrors reflected the light down, bathing the settlement in faint sunlight.

 

Then I realised that the scratches around the base of the pillar weren’t scratches: they were carvings. It was a series of pictures, wrapped around the pillar and rising up. The first pictures were of a spaceship crashing and what looks like a war between the ship survivors and robed strangers, Sand people. From there, the robes and the starship stood, weapons sheathed and it goes on from there, up half of the column. It seems that the sons carve their past on the pillar, history wrapped around the centre of their home. The archaeologists would be interested in that, but I’m not.

 

What I am interested in were the ghosts dragging people to the waterfront. There standing on a plinth, was the infected archaeologist, firing lightning out of its hands at the struggling people. It was morbidly fascinating to see how many had been infected in so little time.

 

Even with Mako’s adventure under the knife, only three hours passed from the initial infections back at base. That gave whatever this was little over two hours. The most infectious vector, a virulent airborne pathogen that infiltrated the bloodstream via the lungs, might spread to so many this quickly but until now, I had been certain that this wasn’t airborne. After all, Golah, Hael and Mako would have been infected back at the base if that were the case. In all likelihood, I would be too. However, if an electrical catalyst is required, then it’s possible we are all time bombs just waiting for a spark to turn.

 

I stood there on the ridge overlook by the entrance to the cavern, dark armour glinting in the reflected sunlight, for far longer than I should have. It was a stupid, rookie mistake to let dawning comprehension bedazzle my blue @55. Eventually, I pulled my eyes away from the sight, and saw what was underneath. I almost wish I hadn’t.

 

Squat, sand-brick buildings stepped down the inclined floor. About halfway down, they gave way to prefab metal shelters, and these in turn gave way to a small lake surrounding the pillar. There were more houses, halls and whatevers than I was willing to spend time counting. This wasn’t a camp: it was a town. Sure, it was nowhere near as big as Anchorhead or Mos Ila, but that didn’t matter. Towns had hundreds, if not thousands of inhabitants. The ragged handful I’d seen in the guard post were probably the only survivors, the few who got out before everything went to hell. I was up against everyone else and I could see the horde building. I looked down over it all and felt very, very screwed.

 

If I could rule out any survivors, I could rig the whole cavern to collapse. It wouldn’t take much, just wire up the pillar and statues with baradium and let the ceiling come crashing down. Sure, the oh so pretty history would be lost, but the people who made it were still around to re-record it, for now anyway. The sand people settlement on the plateau above would collapse into the void but that idea didn’t bother me anymore: they lost their right to not get fµcked when they threw Mako off a cliff.

 

Unfortunately, I could guarantee that there were survivors: I could see some and hear more. They screamed for mercy, prayed to whatever they worshipped or begged for a hero. Sorry, I’m not a hero: just a glorified janitor.

 

The streets between the material rings were narrow, barely wide enough for two speeders to pass, even at the roundabouts that surrounded each statue. For my purposes, they were too wide: I’d get mobbed if I went down there, and I didn’t have my flamethrower to cook them properly. No, I’d left it with Mako, a sign of good faith that I trusted her to watch my back and wasn’t leaving her behind as baggage. If I went back for it, I’d just be confirming her fears. Still, I’d rather not get turned into one of those things. Inside the rings however, it was a maze.

 

I could spend hours just trying to map the tight turns, narrow passages and blind crossings. Already, I could tell one thing: this place certainly wasn’t built with speeders in mind. It looked like something out of ancient history holos: I half expected to see people in tunics and robes. If anything, I’d prefer the archaic Coruscanti out of that holo show than what I saw. The holo stars looked like bronzed buff gods: this lot looked like they’d fallen off the set of a rakghoul meets droid overlords holo-shlock.

 

Below, I could see dozens of ghosts, formerly from all walks of life. Aproned house-spouses and jacketed tribes-folk, old people in robes and children in nightgowns: the techno virus took everyone. They lumbered, lurched and listed through the streets, silent but for the screams of the not-yet converted.

 

A crackling hiss that’d haunt my nightmares gurgled behind me. I spun, hit the ignition on my jetpack and drew my blasters. The ghost lumbered up behind me, energy sparking from its fingertips. I didn’t notice the pained horror locked onto its robot-eyed face, or that it was heavily pregnant. I did notice that I wasn’t jetting into the air. The ghost lunged at me.

 

I threw myself to the side, drilling it with blasterfire. It didn’t cry out, it didn’t shriek. It just stopped, turned and started for me again. I hit the rock ridge, sandstone scuffing my armour as I flailed back to my feet. Stupid: I rely on my jetpack too much. Dancing back on the balls of my feet, I cycled through my options.

 

Blasters didn’t have the kick I needed to take it down quickly. Tracer missiles don’t have enough explosive force to knock it back. Incendiary missile? Backpack mounted. Flamethrower, same. Rail shot: need an opening long enough to charge and fire. Heatseekers? Don’t have tracer lock on it. Ah, sod it! I plugged a quartet of microfactured explosive missiles into the ghost. The combined force pumped it back, onto its back. Then I emptied both clips into the damn thing. It stayed down.

 

The quiet beeping of my thermal sensor told me the microfacturing plant was close to overheating. I killed the sound: it wasn’t necessary, or wanted. I could feel the damn thing through my bracer. The design already bled heat out into the suit’s coolant system but it would take a minute to cool down. Realisation kicked me between the legs: I might not have that long.

 

I’d just fired a lot of explosive and very loud shots into this unnaturally quiet cavern. There was no way the other ghosts hadn’t heard me. I surveyed the ridge: no other ghosts came shambling up. Dropping to my belly, I crawled up to the lip and peered over. None came hurtling up the ramp. I breathed out; I was safe, relatively speaking. Crawling away from the lip, I pushed myself back up and went over to the dead ghost.

 

It looked almost serene, or as serene as a corpse can look with chunks blown off and scorched blaster holes covering its body. The face was remarkable intact, and it looked at peace, the pained horror gone.

 

Carefully, I folded its blackened arms over its swollen belly and the still burning remnants of its bed robe. Then, I closed those glassy, robotic, blue eyes. I hope you weren’t loved by someone, kid: if no one loves you, no one’ll miss you. I doubt it though. Everyone has someone who loves them, despite everything. Okay, sentimental stuff aside: I have a job to do.

 

I hadn’t been entirely honest with Mako. I certainly didn’t want her to get infected, but there was another reason I didn’t want her in here with me .These first showed up on an Imperial base, and though I know they didn’t cause it, their regulations insisted they’d keep a sample. All it’d take was one enterprising sociopath to try to develop it into a bioweapon. This was something the Republic needed a sample of, so they could come up with effective containment measures. Mako might have flaws, but stupidity isn’t one of them. If she saw me take a sample of this thing, and the republic miraculously develops a cure within hours of the Empire’s first attack with it, she will put the two together. That would just lead to awkward questions.

 

Slowly, I drew an empty hypo-syringe from the concealed pocket in my gauntlet. I might’ve pilfered it from the med station at Zaroshe: they wouldn’t notice. I’d certainly paid them enough. It was empty and sterile, and I’d thought to use it for samples in case they wanted me to poison a settlement later. What can I say; Imperials are real twisted some times.

 

I stuck it into the dead ghost, watching as the vial filled with grey-red blood. Huh, the ghost had once been human, or so close that it didn’t make a difference. Whatever this thing was, it added something to the circulatory system, possibly using it as a way to propagate throughout the victim. That supported the airborne particulate theory.

 

So, I am fairly sure that I know the infection vector is airborne particulates with some kind of electrical catalyst. Whether this is necessary to induce the change or to kill the victim is unknown, as are any other factors. For example, why avoid the sand people settlement? Was it human specific? If so, why, and do I carry a dormant version? I’m more or less baseline human, and there is an overabundance of proof that this thing affects humans, so what do I have that Keelah and Pirrin don’t?

 

Okay, if I wanted to remotely co-opt an entirely organic nervous system and puppet the host using an airborne approach vector, how would I do it? The first thing that sprung to mind was Ophiocordyceps. It’s a fungus that infects specific insectoid species and produces an enzyme that affects, and to an extent controls, its actions. The victims moved erratically, which could be a sign of a nervous system co-opted by enzyme interactions.

 

This hypothesis didn’t explain the physical changes to the eyes, blood or the sallow skin. Actually, the eyes looked robotic and I’d bet credits that the blood changes were cybernetic. It could actually be a nanite swarm designed to mimic Ophiocordyceps. If so, Mako was in trouble: a single incident of the unaugmented fungi was capable of wiping out entire insect colonies. However, there lies an argument against it: Ophiocordyceps was specific to insectoid physiology. Although difficult, it would be possible to adapt it for humans, since it manipulates enzymes to alter neurochemistry. Still, that didn’t explain the amped up aggression, or the visual signs of infection. Both those factors would act against Ophiocordyceps, as it is most effective when not opposed. If someone had deliberately developed this around the fungus, they would know that and not introduce obvious signs of infection. Okay, put that aside for a moment. How else could I do it?

 

Other ways could be more mechanical, with nanites fusing to the nervous system and co-opting it by blocking the brain’s signals and sending its own. That would explain the mechanical augments in the eyes, as the nanites is functionally building a robot within a human, and the insane pain threshold. I’d roasted the one choking me and only the mechanical action of its flesh curling loosened its grip. In addition, outside control could account for the aggression, especially is the controller was a megalomaniacal despot wannabe. Two major problems with this theory though.

 

Firstly, they didn’t appear to act in unison. Anything with a centralised intelligence could transmit new information to all of its drones as soon as it received it, like the Killiks of Alderaan. I’d proved this a minute ago when I killed a drone and still haven’t been mobbed. Of course, there might not be an overall hive-mind style control over every drone, but I doubt it. We’d had a conversation with something, and you couldn’t program nanites with that degree of spontaneity.

 

Alternatively, the signal may not be continuous, only transmitting to establish a link with new drones and download control software. Perhaps the Jawa artefact had acted as a localised signal transmitter and transmitted information via a specific, deliberately obscure frequency that a simple sweep wouldn’t find.

 

Still, even if there wasn’t an overarching control signal, the nanites inside a body had to be able to communicate with each other. That means each drone gives off a control signal, which Mako’s cybernetics would have detected by now.

 

That didn’t necessarily mean the hypothesis was invalid, just that she hadn’t found it yet. The signal might be on a frequency that she couldn’t sweep. It’s even possible that there wasn’t a signal to detect, instead using the nervous system to relay information, just like an organic creature.

 

Either way, both hypothesises required machines as a catalyst, either a nanite swarm or a centralised enzyme microfacturing plant. That gave us an avenue of attack. Machines that size are especially vulnerable to electromagnetic pulses. Trouble is, so is my gear. I have a microfacturing plant strapped to my left arm and servomotor enhancements at every joint, all linked up to a centralised computer and powered by a flat-pack dry cell battery. The only thing that wouldn’t seize up would be my blasters, not that I’d be able to aim without moving my arms.

 

Okay, is there a way to make an EMP that won’t fry my gear? Damn it, I’m a bounty hunter, not an electrical engineer. I pulled out my holocom and plugged in a number.

“Mako, you there?” I asked as a tiny blue copy of her upper body materialised in front of me.

“Yeah, what’d you need?” she chirped, as business-like as she could manage. Expecting I’ll need something every time I call during work hours: It’s almost as if she knows me.

 

“An EMP device that’ll fry everything in a hundred metres but will leave my gear alone,”

“Stand in a faraday cage when firing it to keep your gear safe. Can’t you make one in there?” I glanced around. Aside from the bling in the ceiling and the wires round the pillar, this place was technologically dead. If I had to guess, it was something cultural or religious, since I know they have droids: we’d seen them all outside.

“There’s no droids, no machines, nothing technical in here. Hell, I think I’ve brought most of it in with me,” I answered,

 

“You still got Jeek’s droid stunner?” What does that have to with anything? Instinctively, I patted my shoulder rig and felt the awkwardly shaped handle. It’s pretty obvious the Nemoidian didn’t design it for combat. Let’s just say there’s a reason the pistol has endured for several thousand years among humanoids.

“Of course: why?”

“That’s a targeted EMP generator.” Oh, I actually didn’t know that.

 

“Will it fry everything in a hundred metres?

“Sure, if you aim at everything in a hundred metres, it’s targeted.” she shot back and I suppressed a grin: okay, I walked right into that one.

“All right smart @55,” I chuckled, “is there a way to make it target everyone, bearing in mind I have a microfacturing plan on my arm.”

 

“Not sure, head back and I’ll have an answer by then,” she and then hung up. Turning, I started making my way back to the barricade, planning for as much as I could. If what I suspect is going to happen next does, I’ll need everything I brought with me, and probably then some. The ghosts weren’t milling around the lake, they were marshalling, but for what I don’t know.

 

 

 

 

Notes

 

 

Uh, so the palawan settlement is a small dank cave with no amenities and less than thirty people in it? okay... The outpost near Mos Ila is much larger, and that's an outpost.

 

So I might've designed them a new settlement that works in Earthlike conditions (gravity atmosphere, assumed contact metamorphic derived sandstone as the plateau bedrock) and I might've used said structural design as part of a module's coursework. If I knew how to post images that didn't require an account on an image sharing site, I might post the poster, but I don't, so I haven't.

 

Edited April 17, 2015 by Feldraeth

[Striges]

Week of April 17, 2015

Paranoia: “Is it paranoia when they really are out to get you?”-- every Agent ever, and a healthy number of Sith besides. So how about your character? Are they reasonably cautious, just planning for the worst, or outright paranoid? Or is everyone really out to get them? Thanks to Frauzet for this prompt. (And credit to Joseph Heller for the paraphrased quote)

 

And, as ever,

 

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7489974post=2 and http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7489991post=3 (yes, we’re up to two full posts!). Many thanks to Alaurin for maintaining these lists.

 

This week's featured NotLP:

Superstition - Both cultures and individuals can hold superstitions, little practices and beliefs that are supposed to put some spin on reality, make good luck or ill. Then again, some people say it’s all nonsense, and some even tempt fate by crossing superstitious lines. What superstitions does your character hold to? Has any experience seemed to prove or disprove the rule?

[frauzet]

Fallen behind again, so I'll keep the comments brief.

 

Comments:

 

Thank you all for the kind words regarding Smilo. I am glad you like what I am doing there. I am still a bit shy writing about him. There are some awesome agents here

 

@Feldraeth:

Making the Call: I like your twist to the Black-Talon-plot, Lieutenant Sylas being an overly ambitious Imperial is very believable.

A Lord’s Chambers: It's an interesting question how much effect the child's body would have on Zash's mind.

The Ghost of the Desert: I like your cave much better than the original. And by now I'd like to know more about Azul's background, and her education. Where does she come from and what is she up to?

 

@Mirdthestrill:

Opportunity Knocks: Living from hand to mouth is what I envision for unknown bounty hunters. And Braden taking in the promising strays? Yes, very much!

Long Ago: I remember this one. I still like the differences in writing between them.

History: I just love your version of Orgus Din.

The Final Trial: The hardest trial of them all. This still leaves me sad (which is good because it's only a story).

Nostalgia: This feels like taken from real life!

Girl's Night In: The exchange of information about various physical differences is great. It's good to have friends to talk about 'stuff'.

 

@alaurin:

The Journey Begins: You sure like to make things even more dangerous for your chars, can't say I blame you

And Pierce is worth the effort.

False Advertising: That.was.not.nice. Poor Jorgan. And probably even poorer anyone who has to deal with him during the next week or so... (Imagine me grinning.)

 

 

 

The current prompt 'Paranoia' came to mind when I wrote this part about Smilo in my TDaOC-thread.

It may be a bit applicable to this story, but to a much lesser extent. I finally managed to finish the story how Giz met Io, which I started to write for the "Cupid’s Arrow"-prompt. It needed only two months...

 

Title - Just a Simple Trade

Prompt - "Mistaken Identity"

Class - Smuggler (Gizalen), none (Iolith)

Words - ~2900

Spoilers - none

Takes place on Corellia several months before the start of the ingame events.

 

 

Giz checked his chrono for the umpteenth time. Where was this damned courier? The guy should have been here a quarter of an hour ago. He went to the corner of the next crossing and back. There was nobody to be seen. It was a quiet area without much traffic and only an occasional pedestrian. Giz didn’t like too quiet for doing business. Not that he cared for any witnesses, but it usually was reassuring to know your business partners wouldn’t be able to shoot you without raising some kind of alarm. He walked back into the passage to the private hangar his ship was docked in. It wouldn’t do to raise suspicion by lingering in the alley in front of it.

 

He decided to wait another five minutes. That would give him enough time to conduct business and be gone before the owner of the hangar would charge him for another hour. The profit he expected from selling the implants he was waiting for to the Hutts was considerable, but so was the damned fee for this kriffin’ private hangar. The galaxy seemed to have conspired with ill luck to cheat him out of his profit. He had made one deal here, but he needed this second one.

 

Just as he was about to check his chrono again he heard approaching steps. Somebody was in a hurry. It sounded as if said somebody was alone, though. Giz released the grips of his blasters which he had grabbed out of instinct. He was still wary when the door opened. His confidence convinced him that the single boy hurrying through the door nearly doubling over to catch his breath wasn’t a match for him. “You Mirro?”

 

“Merru,” the boy wheezed in between two stertorous breaths. His arms rested on his knees. Giz wasn’t able to make out much of him in the dark leatheris coat he wore. He hoped the bulge in one of the coat’s pockets was his package. The boy’s head was hidden by a beret. The name was right. This had to be the guy he had been waiting for. “Sorry,” the wheezing was interrupted again. “Karking speeder died on me. Had to run two blocks.”

 

“I hope the quality of the products is better than that of your speeder!” Giz didn’t hide his annoyance. Given the prices his business partners charged one would think they’d be able to use proper equipment. Or maybe more reliable delivery boys. Maybe this one…

 

The boy straightened himself, doffed his beret, and shook out a mane of long black hair which framed a face with huge blue eyes. Eyes like the sky at home on a clear evening just before the first brighter stars became visible.

 

…was just his type. “I thought you were Merru the delivery boy.”

 

“I am Merru the delivery boy, Sidali Merru.” Still panting she fumbled a package out of her coat pocket. The open coat revealed just enough of the underlying body clad in tight black leatheris pants and a matching top for him to want to see the rest. Oblivious to the once-over he gave her she held the parcel out for him. “You want to check the goods or what?”

 

“You bet.” With a slight shake of his head Giz reminded himself they were talking about the implants in the parcel. Damned be his tight schedule. “Follow me.” He turned and headed to the hangar’s interior. The blaster she was wearing wasn’t bothering him. The credits would be transferred through a third party once he was back in orbit. He had dealt with the supplier before. The only problem would be not to run into a customs patrol.

 

When he stepped out of the passage he heard Merru take a sharp breath. “Wow!” With a few steps she was past him. “An XS! Now I know why nobody was concerned about customs.” She looked back at him, eyes shining. “Original engines?”

 

Giz shrugged with a grin. “Some minor upgrades.”

 

“Boy, I’d love to see her in action.” She had sprinted ahead to inspect the Fox’ Shadow from up close.

 

With an elaborate curse under his breath Giz damned his luck once more. He’d have loved to show her some action. A fine looking woman, and from her exclamations she had more than rudimentary knowledge about starships. Force, she seemed to love his ship. He’d have shown her everything she wanted to see. He coughed. “I hate to be a spoilsport, but time is running short.”

 

“Sorry.” She sprinted to meet him at the foot of the ramp. With an unwitting tug she banished a black wave of her hair behind her ear.

 

The smell of her sweat mingled with her perfume had some interesting effects on him. Giz hurried inside the ship and to the rec room. The upturned parcel disgorged the agreed number of implants onto the dejarik board. Giz had just activated his scanner when the holo chimed. One glance told him it was the hangar’s owner. Kark! He had still a few minutes left. With a sigh he went to answer the call. It was voice only. “Captain, get out of there, now. There is a whole squad from CorSec coming your way.”

 

“What the…”

 

“I just received the hint. They’ll reach the hangar any time now.”

 

“Thanks.” Giz cut the connection. Now he knew why the fee was so high. Bribing the authorities to receive such hints was expensive. He headed for the cockpit.

 

“Kark! You gonna keep the ware?” Behind him Merru was shoving the implants back into the parcel. “Does the hangar have a back entrance?” she called after him.

 

“Yes, just head towards…” Giz’ answer was cut short by the hangar-doors banging against the wall. Giz jumped into the pilot’s seat and hit the button to start the engines. With his other hand he had already switched the lever for the ramp and the entry to close. “Sorry, sweetheart, guess your wish is about to come true,” he yelled. “I’ll drop you off after we got out of here.” He had checked the systems prior to leaving the ship. It payed to be prepared. “Hold on!”

 

His luck cut its vacation. The officials didn’t have heavy weapons with them. The blasterbolts glancing off the ship’s hull probably didn’t even leave scratches in the paint. A surprised shout followed by an oath as he took his ship out of the hangar’s skyward opening told him Merru hadn’t heard his warning. He paid her no further mind as he was busy maneuvering his ship through the air traffic. Communicating with any of the control stations would be a waste of time. They wouldn’t assign him a safe vector even if they had one.

 

He switched on the internal speakers. “Get to a seat and buckle on!” This was going to be a bit hard on the dampeners. He had two small ships following him on his sensors. Being much smaller they had the advantage over the Shadow. But the Shadow had the better pilot. On several occasions Giz held his breath as he dove his ship through clusters of other vessels. He didn’t want to fire at his pursuers but he didn’t want to be an easy target either. He hoped they’d give up sooner or later as the implants he had aboard might be military grade but their design not this much of an innovation. As long as he didn’t do any real damage he wasn’t worth their effort. His luck held. After another spiral through the lower traffic lanes he let the Shadow surge skyward towards a bank of clouds. Inside this natural cover he operated several switches and levers. There was a soft hum as the drone emitting the Shadow’s original signal left the ship. Giz sent it on its way with a copious curse. There went his profit. With an altered signal Giz veered the Shadow’s course off, staying inside the clouds until they reached the closest chain of mountains. He dropped her low, avoiding visual contact with his pursuers. When he deemed it safe he brought her out of the atmosphere, and hid inside a convoy of freighters. After the search for his followers brought up naught he flew into open space and initiated a series of jumps that would bring them back to the other side of Corellia the next day.

 

Merru was standing at the holo projector when Giz returned to the rec room. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice maybe a bit harsher than necessary. He shouldn’t blame her for the outcome of this run.

 

Startled she turned towards him. Her eyes brimmed with tears and her lower lip quivered. Giz felt the sting of a guilty conscience, but he hadn’t been that harsh, had he? “Hey, it’s okay,” he tried to soothe her.

 

She threw her arms up into the air with a huff. “Nothing is okay!” she exclaimed before she slumped into one of the seats. Elbows resting on her knees she let her head sink into the palms of her hands.

 

Giz heard her snivel. Carefully he sat down in the seat beside her. “I said I’d bring you back, and I will!”

 

“There is no going back…” her voice trailed off at the end.

 

“What do you mean? I’ll drop you off at the spaceport tomorrow. You’ll be home for lunch.”

 

She looked up. “I tried to contact my people. Without success. Then I accessed our cameras in the base. There… there isn’t much left besides some bodies beneath the rubble.”

 

“Oh…” Giz couldn’t prevent part of his mind starting to calculate his profit if he didn’t have to pay for the implants. He had to check though. He re-established the last connection. “Oh…” There wasn’t anything else to say.

 

“I can’t go back.” She buried her face in her hands again. “I got nowhere to go.”

 

Giz cleared his throat. “You still have the implants.” He told the greedy part of his brain to shut up. She looked so miserable, he just couldn’t rob her of the last valuables she had.

 

Merru snuffled and looked at him again with a shimmer of hope in her eyes. “You’d be still interested in buying them?”

 

“Well, technically they don’t belong to you, and I had some unpredicted expenses…” He had two hearts but he wasn’t a fool.

 

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “So, how much would you pay?”

 

“Two thousand.”

 

“But they are worth five times as much.”

 

More if you knew the right buyer. “I’ll drop you off at the next port if you want to search for an other buyer,” he offered with a gracious smile.

 

“Five thousand.”

 

“Three.”

 

“Four thousand and you’ll take me to Nar Shaddaa.”

 

Nar Shaddaa? He was headed there anyway. Did she know about his buyer? Was she trying to frame him? After a look into her blue eyes, still red-rimmed but now big with anticipation, Giz decided she wasn’t. He held out his hand. “Okay.” After she shook his hand he got up. “I’ll set course. Help yourself to a drink.” Four thousand wasn’t great but still better than the initial deal, though he’d still lose some credits. He hadn’t been able to disappoint her. Kark, whom was he kidding? She wouldn’t get far with four thousand.

 

Giz wasn’t done programming the navicomp when Merru joined him in the cockpit bearing two glasses and a bottle of golden liquid clamped in the crook of her arm. Giz raised an eyebrow. She had found his best Corellian. He could only approve of her taste in spirits. She plopped down into the copilot’s seat, handed him one of the glasses, opened the bottle with her teeth, and poured them both a generous amount of whiskey. She spit the cork out. “Won’t need that!” she stated.

 

“Intend to get drunk?”

 

She tilted her head and scanned the bottle. Her mouth twisted a little and her nose wrinkled. She looked — adorable. “Don’t know,” she mused, “only if I don’t share the rest with you.” She looked at him with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “Seems a bit unfair. But…” She raised her glass as a toast before she downed it’s content in the continuation of the same motion. “…we’ll see if you can keep up.”

 

Giz felt the familiar warmth spread down his throat and in his belly when he drank his own. She refilled his glass without protest when he held it out to her. In the time it took him to finish the programming of the computer she had drunk two more refills. He took a sip of his. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

She looked at him and did this mouth-twisting-nose-wrinkling thing again. “Kark! There’s not much to talk about. It’s not like I had family or real friends down there.” A heavy sigh heaved her chest. “All my money was down there. I was saving for…” She didn’t finish the sentence.

 

“For?” Giz inquired softly.

 

Merru eyed him over the rim of her glass. “You’ll only laugh.”

 

“Won’t!” With a sober look he put his hand over his hearts. “Promised!”

 

Her gaze was fixed on the amber liquid in her hands. “I was saving for my own starship.” After a pause she added, “not that I have been able to get very far. But it was a start.” She raised her glass. “A girl needs a dream.”

 

Giz raised his glass to hers. “To a girl’s dream.” He didn’t laugh. They sat in the cockpit, stared into space, and shared the last of the whiskey. Neither of them talked. After a while Merru was snoring softly. Giz took the empty glass out of her hand, and fetched a blanket. He spread it over her sleeping body, tugging it in carefully. He stroked a strand of her soft black hair out of her face. Damned, but she was beautiful. He broke away from the sight. Time to get to bed.

 

Sometime during the sleep cycle the door to his room slid open. Instantly awake Giz made out Merru’s silhouette against the light drifting in from the rec room. It didn’t look like she was armed. He waited as she hesitated in the door frame. Finally she pulled off her boots and entered. Two steps in she stumbled over something on the floor and landed on the edge of the bed. “Ouch!”

 

The smell of alcohol wafted towards Giz. He very much wanted this woman in his bed — but not like this. He himself was still sober enough to remember there wasn’t much appealing about drunken sex. “You okay?”

 

She sat up and rubbed her leg. “Bumped my shin. Think I will survive.” Gazing over her shoulder she grinned at him. “It was lonely and cold in the cockpit.” After wriggling off the blanket she raised it to slip underneath. Giz didn’t stop her. Instead he shifted a bit to make room for her. The slight vibration of the bed and the rustling of the sheets told him she was rubbing her feet for warmth. There was nothing wrong with cuddling, no? He shoved his legs over to her side of the bed and suppressed a yelp as she didn’t wait for another invitation. Actually her feet were cold. How did she manage to get cold feet inside her boots? The thought was supplanted as she wriggled closer, her butt pressing against him. Force, the woman was testing his self-restraint. Searching for a comfortable position he put an arm around her. Finally he managed to find one which seemed to suit both of them. Giz tried to ignore his body’s reaction, and prayed she would, too. There would be nowhere to run if this ended with an awkward awakening.

 

Iolith hid her smile inside the pillow. She had been prepared for the worst. Seduction had been the plan, violence the polar question. But the captain was much better than she had given him credit for after reading the dossier they had on him. Good for him and for her. He was worth much more to her alive. She’d need his connections. The warmth of his body wrapped her more securely than the blanket. The pillow, the sheets smelled of him. Maybe it were time to change the sheets but the smell was pleasant enough. She was beginning to think she might enjoy this assignment after all.

 

***

 

Officer Karling, CorSec, closed the file wishing all cases were as easy to solve as this one. Merruvian Narkir, 18, no living relatives, drank too much, took a wrong turn on his way home, stumbled into the Selonian Tunnels, and made acquaintance with the wildlife down there. The Selonians had found and reported his remains. Karling looked up from his monitor when his colleagues came in. Two more grinning faces. They had every right to be in good spirits. After an anonymous call they had managed to take down a medium scale smuggling ring. The fact most of the felons had died did no harm. Even though there would be an internal investigation as to what had led to an explosion after usage of what should have been mere smoke-bombs. Karling shrugged, who knew what explosives the criminals had been storing in their bunker. They were gone now. Once more law and order had won.

 

 

Edited April 19, 2015 by frauzet

[Striges]

Late commentary again.

 

 

@Mirdthestrill: I really enjoyed reading Eyrie struggling to describe the Force to non-Force users, especially given she’s Miraluka. Not because she had trouble, but because she and the others had no common frame of reference. That’s so often written as”describing color to the blind” and here it’s the Miraluka explaining the Force.

 

I also liked the sense of nostalgia in Mallena’s story. She’s home, but it’s not the same. The places are there, but none of the people.

 

@Feldraeth: The necromantic zombies in that quest series always creeped me out; I never thought much about how the infection process worked. I do like Kaina’zul’anon finding that she does need Mako. While its obvious she wants Mako around in a professional capacity, I can’t help but think that she needs a friend as much as a slicer.

 

@Frauzet: Clever Iolith. Even reading the beginning with the assumption she was playing Giz she’s good. Very, very good. Nice all around conspiracies.

 

[alaurin]

Here's me sneaking something in before the prompt change. I originally had 2 stories for this week's prompt, but it's been a busy week and I don't know if I'll have time to finish it tonight. I promise I'll still post the other story as soon as its finished along with some comments and replies.

 

Title: Now It’s Personal

Prompt: Paranoia

Character: Syrel’uke’nudo (core name Luken)-IA, Kaliyo

Setting: Dromund Kaas, roughly 6 weeks before A Matter of Trust

Spoilers: IA Act 2 through Taris

 

 

“Okay, what gives Agent?” the Rattataki demanded, those silver eyes flashing dangerously after the last of the droids had been dispatched, “I’m down for about anything and have pulled a fair share of B and E jobs in the past, but I prefer to know what I’m going after.”

 

“I’m afraid I can’t talk about it, Kalliyo,” I replied. Literally, that bitter truth reared its ugly head and I could feel the anger rising as it did every time I recalled what Kothe had done to me…..what I’d been reduced to. Their puppet.

 

“Can’t talk about it or won’t,” Kaliyo shot back, “Because there’s a big difference Agent and even you have to admit things haven’t exactly been normal lately with you. So you’ll have to forgive me for being a little leery right now.”

 

“Then go,” I turned sharply to her, “You’re free to leave anytime if you’re scared.”

 

Void knows I never wanted her as part of my crew, despite having slept with her several times in those first months. I certainly would never trust her with the truth even if I was able to get the words out. Besides being unpredictable and extremely volatile, Kaliyo’s only true loyalty was to herself. Is there anyone can I really trust? I wondered, unable to keep the doubt from creeping in again as the unusual conversation I had after debriefing Kothe on the Taris mission replayed in my mind.

 

 

“It’s breaking your skull……” I looked around, seeing no one except Kothe who had the gall to look concerned.

 

“You don’t look so good Legate,” Kothe frowned, “Take a few days, check in with your bosses. We’ll have another job soon.”

 

I gripped my head as the throbbing grew worse, “Can you hear it crack?”

 

Dark spots clouded my vision and I felt myself falling. Yet I knew that voice, “Who are you?”

 

His image appeared just as I’d last seen him, “Can you see? Cipher Nine. Legate. Disposable Operative. It’s been a while since Shadow Town.”

 

“Watcher X……my mission on Nar Shaddaa,” I remembered. “You were imprisoned there by Intelligence.”

 

“Yes. Formerly Watcher Five. Formerly Minder Eight. I helped you with your terrorist problem. I embedded a chip in your spine to disguise your life readings.”

 

“And I let you go.” I always wondered if that had been a mistake, but if he could help me now it was worth the guilt that had nagged at me for weeks after. “Is this a dream? Or are you have you come back?”

 

“Maybe that chip is how we’re talking now,” he shrugged at me before starting to pace. “Or maybe it’s the stress……double agent, triple agent…..the brainwashing damaging your mind.”

 

“Do you know what’s going on?”

 

“I was in your position once,” he nodded, “Trapped by my conditioning, forced to subvert it. I warned you they’d do the same to you. The SIS isn’t to blame. We both know you were programmed before you met them.”

 

“If the SIS didn’t brainwash me, then who did?”

 

The question lingered in the air for a moment before Watcher X stopped pacing and turned to look me in the eye, “I think you already know the answer to that. You’ve seen brainwashing technology before…..slave control serums on Dromund Kaas, loyalty instincts bred into Watchers. An Imperial diplomat infused with Killik pheromones. The Republic is only using what the Empire put in your mind.”

 

“Suppose you’re right,” I didn’t want to believe him, but I couldn’t deny the truth of his words, “What did they do to me and how did the Republic gain access?”

 

“That I don’t know…..yet,” he admitted, “If you want freedom…..revenge…..we need more information. Imperial Intelligence will have records on Dromund Kaas. Go to the Citidel archives, look at your personnel files. Ensure no one sees you because Cipher Nine has no allies now.”

 

 

Was Watcher X just a bad hallucination caused by whatever Kothe’s people had done to me? Was it just a dream? Surely my own people wouldn’t be behind something so disgusting. Sure there were slaves in the Empire, but there was a difference between putting a shock collar on someone and altering their very mind to force obedience with a single word. That slave on Dromund Kaas was an enemy with information……I’m one of their agents! Vector agreed to the joining……didn’t he?

 

“Hello Agent……you still in that sexy blue bod?” Kaliyo’s mocking voice broke into my thoughts, “Not that I object to staring at your ***, but I don’t feel like getting caught in Intelligence’s cookie jar.”

 

“Sorry……just thinking about something.”

 

“Well think faster,” she glared, “Or have you forgotten we’re on borrowed time down here?”

 

“I said you could leave if you’re afraid.”

 

“I’m not scared of anyone or anything Agent,” she scoffed, “But something’s definitely off with you and I don’t want to wake up one morning with a vibroknife in my back.”

 

“Now you know how I felt those first couple of months.”

 

“Cute Agent, real cute,” Kaliyo crossed her arms as she leaned against a terminal, her lips twitching in a smirk that usually meant she knew too much, “But sneaking into Intelligence, sabotaging the generators to disable the cameras…….this info you’re looking for must either be illegal or some deep dark government secret and either of those things tend to have a pretty big payout so I hope you plan to share the score.”

 

“There’s no score, Kaliyo,” I sighed with annoyance, “Just keep an eye out while I search the databases.”

 

“Fine,” she muttered, shaking her head at me before going to the doorway and I swore I heard the word liar when she coughed a second later.

 

I ignored the taunt as I moved to stand in front of one of the computer terminals, but the screen flashed as soon as I began typing and a voice responded instead, “Power reserves low, access denied due to security lockdown.”

 

So much for doing this manually, but voice commands would have to suffice since I had no choice. Besides, any audio feeds would have been taken out with the cameras, “Search records. Keyword cross-reference Cipher Nine, Watcher X, Killik Joining, SLV Sixteen Serum.”

 

“Searching. One record found. Displaying abstract.”

 

A sick feeling settled into my gut when the Minister’s image appeared and a chill washed over me with his first statement, “Security Directive one oh one three A. I hereby approve the application of Castellan restraints to designate Cipher Nine.”

 

Hallucination or not, Watcher X had been right……my own people were behind my current predicament. Anger began to boil up, but I forced it down. I needed to focus and get more information, so I swallowed my emotions and listened as the Minister went on.

 

“Despite his effectiveness, certain Lords of the Sith have expressed concern over his confrontation with Darth Jadus. Although the outcome was ultimately positive, no Cipher agent should ever threaten a Dark Council member. This safeguard will allow anyone with the keyword to shut down and reprogram Cipher Nine’s mind. He will be no danger to the Sith or the Empire.”

 

“I gave them everything,” I spat as Keeper’s image appeared, “and this is how they repay me……by taking away my free will?! Making me a puppet?!”

 

“You alright in there Agent?” Kaliyo called from the doorway, “Find any juicy secrets, government conspiracies?”

 

“Nothing that you need to be concerned with.”

 

“Oh I’ve got plenty to be concerned with lately and I’m not the only one. Maybe you might consider explaining to the rest of us why you’re so secretive when we’re supposed to be your support team,” Kaliyo shot back and for a moment I thought there might be genuine feeling in the pretty Rattataki, but then she continued, “Or are you just becoming another paranoid spy?”

 

“No Kaliyo,” I chuckled as I finally stood, hating the bitterness in my voice. Up until this point, I’d kept myself distanced from the job, never letting it become personal. I’d learned that in the military as a medic. Not everyone survives despite all the advances in medicine, not all missions are noble and heroic, and sometimes innocents die with the guilty. You learn to pull the trigger without thinking and numb yourself to the guilt over time. It was the only way to survive, to go home to your parents and sister without worrying if the blood on your hands was still showing. But now……they made it personal and I would relish taking each and every one of those SIS bastards down. Then I would deal with my employer. I turned towards my companion, meeting that silver glare head on, “It’s not paranoia when they’re really out to get you.”

 

 

Notes:

 

In game Luken killed Watcher X before I started writing about his sister Lunan (Jadely), but later I realized when I started delving into Luken that he would have let Watcher X go. However, having never made that choice, I didn’t know if that changed things later on. So a big THANK YOU to all my Tumblr followers for answering my IA questions Sunday!

 

For the most part I kept the parts with Watcher X and later the Minister verbatim. I love them as is and felt no need to change it for my fic.

 

Edited April 27, 2015 by alaurin

[Striges]

Behind already * sigh *

 

Have a prompt! (commentary incoming)

 

Week of April 24, 2015

Scent: Humans as a species aren’t known for having a particularly good sense of smell. Despite this, perfumes and scents are incredibly popular, either to hide, replace, or enhance natural odors on both their person and possessions. Does your character care? Do they have a favorite scent? A soap, a perfume, an incense? Do their species’ preferred fragrances turn off others--or smell really good? How do their companions (some of whom may have better olfactory abilities) deal with the profusion of clashing or complementing scents? Or do they prefer your character au naturel? Credit to Alaurin’s story for inspiring this prompt.

 

And, as ever,

 

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7489974post=2 and http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7489991post=3 (yes, we’re up to two full posts!). Many thanks to Alaurin for maintaining these lists.

 

This week's featured NotLP:

Goodbye - Would you believe we haven’t had this prompt yet? Goodbyes come in many forms, from the quick “see you later” of an everyday contact to permanent loss. Write about a time your character said goodbye…or couldn’t.

[Feldraeth]

Comments:

 

 

@Frauzet: I knew from the characters tab that it was Iolith the whole time, but wow. You made me want it to not be her, have her show up elsewhere, tracking Giz and Merru, as Merru seemed so real. Then the ‘reveal’ at the end. Not only does she gain access to her infiltration target in a way he won’t suspect but getting Corsec, one of the best equipped and trained non-military forces in the galaxy to cut her loose ends. Furthermore, she was willing to seduce Giz, even if he turned out to be a DS V scumbag. She mightn’t be ‘the’ agent, but she certainly is a credit to Intelligence. Well written and engaging throughout.

 

@Alaurin: As always great characterisations seen, not just from Kaliyo but the agent himself. They were all thoughts I remember thinking during that mission. I enjoyed your use of the in-game dialogue from Watcher X and Keeper to show Luken's changing viewpoint.

 

 

 

 

 

Prompt: Paranoia, Technology, Canned Response, Superstition

Title: The Ghost of the Desert: Return to the Watch post

Perspective: Kaina’zul’anon, Mercenary

Word Count: 2341

Spoilers: Imperial Tatooine planetary quests, mention to BH Tatooine quest, and a side quest

 

 

 

 

I jogged around the corner and saw the thin line of metal sheets that made up their barricade, the only line of passive defence they had. If the ghosts assaulted it, it wouldn’t hold up, even with the flaming braziers on either side of the door. This had to be a fast stop, I’d seen the horde start to marshal down by the lake front. We had maybe an hour before they shambled up through this barricade and out into the world beyond.

 

“Mako, open the door,” I called, half expecting some obscure question about our shared past. There was no response. That wasn’t good.

“Mako, you back there?” I can smell my flamethrower in the air, but that might just be from the burning braziers, unless they use fast burning, high-energy jet fuel on them. It had been fired recently. There weren’t any charred bodies, or corpses of any kind, not on this side of the wall: she hadn’t needed to use it on the ghosts.

 

Right, that changes things. We’d come here to help. We could’ve just gunned them down, rigged the cavern to blow and carried on with the hunt, but we hadn’t. Mako and I had shown good faith, offering to heal a wound we didn’t even cause. They however, have done nothing but sneer at our generosity since we came here, and if, after all we've done, they’ve hurt Mako...

 

“Whoever’s got Mako, you have five seconds to let her speak to me or I will use a Baradium charge to blow this barricade out my way,” I called up, surprised at just how cold my voice was.

“She went out to ghet better signhal,” a girl about Mako’s age answered, growling ‘H’s into her words. I don’t believe her.

 

Factors lined up in my head. They’re pissed that this thing has infected their home, she was there at its release and she’s not as dangerous as I am. She only has one working arm to use either her pistol, her knife or my flamethrower to protect herself. Giving it to her just overloaded her and made it look like she's an easy target. They just had to come in from her left and she’s vulnerable. Of course, I’m not going to let them know what I suspect. Foreknowledge allows preparation, and if they were being truthful, revealing my suspicions wouldn’t help me.

 

“Right, I’m coming through,” I called, waiting for the door to open. It didn’t: the first sign something’s wrong.

“How do we know you’re not infected?” the girl called back, and I could hear the clack of a slugthrower chambering a shell. If it’s a fight they want, I’ll oblige. It’s not like the sound of gunplay will draw the hordes behind me.

“We’re all infected. Your ghost’s an airborne nanite swarm. I haven’t been turned though,” I answered, and then remembered that they're a bunch of ignorant tribals. This is why I let Mako do the talking.

 

“Have any of the infected used basic yet?” I tried again, keeping 90, 95 percent of the scorn out of my voice. I used simple phrases, words a child could understand. She didn’t, or just didn't answer.

“Hyu could be the first,” someone else, a man from the gravel in the voice, unhelpfully pointed out. True, but unlikely: nanites aren't complex enough to change function once dispersed. It didn’t help me find my partner.

“Have you seen any of them use tech,” I called back, reaching for one of the baradium charges strapped to my belt, “because you’re about to see me use a Baradium charge if you don’t open this door.” The door started moving. All right, time to find Mako, or what's left.

 

I headed into the probably hostile area, knowing I couldn’t pre-emptively open fire without seeing Mako dead or in peril. Assuming they were hostile, they would shoot as soon as they had a clear line of fire. nine times out of ten, that would shred a lone assailant. Ever since that business invading the Kaas slave pits, I have a workaround for this kind of assault.

 

I switched on my energy shield generator and passed through the door. One hand was on my holstered blaster, the other ready to use my arsenal. The girl I’d seen on the barricade appeared behind the door, her familiar face pale in the shield’s orange glow. She shut the door behind me, sealing them in with me.

 

I could see fifteen tribesfolk with blasters, and another five with techblades. I didn’t want the last group near me at all; my armour and the shield are geared for energy dispersal, not melee. I would feel a blaster bolt’s impact before I heard it, but the shield would eat most of its charge and my armour would absorb the rest. The knowledge didn’t stop me from straining my ears. Instead, I listened for the clump of boots or slap of bare foot on the caver floor. They watched me, trying their best to not look like they watched me. For my part, I crossed the guard post, moving decisively and not looking like I scanned the area for Mako.

 

It happened when I turned the corner leading out. A small figure appeared right before me, arm crooked, ready to slide a vibroblade into my guts. I moved, levelling my blaster at its head. One step closer and I would fry all that expensive cybernetics. Wait... cybernetics?

 

“Uh, hey,” Mako greeted with her hands in the air, looking apprehensively around my blaster, “is something wrong?” Joy sprang and pranced all over my relaxing body. She wasn’t dead. I wanted to crush her in a hug and tell her how much she meant to me, not just as a partner but also as a friend. What I said was, “Good, you’re not dead,” keeping all emotion out of my voice. We were on the job: one that didn't pay but a job is a job. I could indulge later, in the privacy of the ship. I lowered my blaster.

 

I almost didn’t notice the wince as she lowered her arm. She’d want more anaesthetic, needed it to keep the pain away, but I can’t give her any more for at least six hours. Increasing the dosage of an acetaminophen compound beyond what she’d already had risked damaging her liver.

 

“I just stepped out, download a lot of data on EMPs,” she explained, her eyes looking down and trawling left to right, as if reading. She probably was, “Could you give me specifics on what you’re trying to disrupt?”

“Sure, their ‘ghost’ is actually a nanite swarm that either co-opts the victim’s central nervous system or produce an enzyme that influences their emotions.” She stopped reading and looked directly up at me.

“Enzymes can do that?” she asked, open amazement on her face, “I always thought they just helped digestion.”

“They do a lot more than that in humanoid base form bodies. However, insects use enzymes to influence moods and actions the same way mammals use pheromones,” I corrected myself.

 

“Okay, so you want something that’ll give out DC to daylight EM radiation, which won’t spread out too far but will pass through rock and won’t hurt living cells,” she reasoned, mostly to herself but I listened nonetheless. I may not know much about physics, but I can think.

“I’m okay with frying living cells, they seem to need an energy pulse to activate once in a body,” I remarked, almost as an afterthought. Electricity can’t cause electromagnetic pulses, else Kaas would be a tech-less backwater. Mako furrowed her brow. Oh, it can? Good thing I got her to look this stuff up. I’m not sure how I’d even pull this job off on my own.

“So if we’re not careful, the pulse might trigger the unturned. Hang on, didn’t one of them zap you back at base?” Phantom pain clutched around my neck at the memory.

“Yeah, but my armour absorbed most of it,” I admitted, rubbing at my throat to dispel the ache, “either that or Chiss are immune.” She looked at me glumly. Okay, so my comedy needs work.

 

“Okay, so we need with a low enough amplitude to, no that wouldn’t spread far enough. What if we spread a bunch of generators around the walls and set them to go off at once. It’s not like the cave is going to be all that big.”

“Actually, it’s at least eighty metres in diameter, with a height of thirty.” Her face fell.

“Really?” she asked, almost pleadingly.

“Maybe a little bigger,” I confirmed, stomping all over her plan “it’s why I didn’t just run ‘n gun my way through there.” She took in a deep breath, and slowly let it out.

 

“Okay, new plan, we rig up a transformer for Jeek’s device, hook it up to an amplifier and set it to blast the cave. Then we get switch the current and blast it again, setting up hundreds of smaller pulses to cook any activating nanites.” I couldn’t see anything wrong with the idea. That’s probably more due to not understanding it than any technical knowhow. Didn’t matter though, I trusted Mako.

 

A moment passed before I realised Mako was watching me intently.

“Now would be the perfect time to tell me how great I am,” she asserted, the quaver in her voice and the shimmering in her eyes almost pleading for affection. Aww, I just wanted to take her away and pet her but that’s not what I needed to do. I’m a professional and we had a job. Still, I’ll talk to her about the Mooka-puppy eyes later; she encourages people to treat her like a child when she pulls stuff like that. Worse, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t realise she’s doing it.

 

“I knew I could count on you for this. When we get out of here, I’m drilling Lokai between the eyes and we’re taking a vacation.” I'm not great at expressing myself, especially not on the job, but I think that did it. Actually, I might've overdone it. The way her face lit up made me instinctively flinch towards my blaster. What have I just agreed to? Already, I can see her dragging me to the great library of Aldera or the splendorous palace city of Iziz or somewhere I know I’ll hate just as much.

“Alderaan looks lovely this time of year, and you can continue with the great hunt while we’re at it.” Library of Aldera it is. At least I’ll have something to do, even if it is work. Speaking of which…

 

“All right, you think you can do some technological wizardry under pressure?” I asked, jerking a thumb at the door.

“Yeah, just need to program your microfacturing plant to synthesise some parts, shouldn’t take long,” she explained, half closing her almond eyes in concentration. I have no idea what she’s after, like I said, I’m not an electrical engineer, but I opened the microfacturing plant’s console. She'd have whatever she needed, so long as it’s not too expensive. Like I said, this job doesn't pay. She came close, pulling a cable from her neck port and plugged it into the console. Lights flashed on its holo-display as it processed her command. I would've watched, checking the microfacturing goo levels, but someone came up behind us.

 

“One of my people says you’re spreading rumours that we’re all infected,” the tribal leader growled, hands not too far from his techstaff. Really, we're doing this right now? A minute ago, I would have happily gunned him down and a minute later, my plant would be running again. He picked the worst possible moment, when Mako and I only had one working arm each. Of course, that was probably intentional. There's a fifty percent chance he'd lose a fair fight.

“Everyone here is infected, and you were infected before we got here. That isn’t the same as turning into a ghost,” I corrected him, as his expression darkened. Someone else that can’t stand being incorrect.

“Mind keeping that opinion to yourself,” he growled quietly, his glare trying to bore into my skull.

“It’s not opinion: your ‘ghosts’ are an airborne nanite swarm. You would have breathed them in shortly after patient zero entered the cavern.” His glower became a blank stare.

 

“Noted, now keep it to yourself. Morale’s pretty low right now, and you don’t want one of the others taking over: they’re not as tolerant of outsiders as I am.” Damn, with everything going on, I had't even considered them. In the last couple of hours, they'd seen loved ones turn to monsters before their eyes and lost everything they'd built and called home.

“Got it,” Mako acknowledged, skirting in front of me before I could say anything, “but we might have a way to save them.” Oh come on, give me a little credit: I'm not a complete @sshole.

“There is no saving them. The ghosts take their hearts and replace them with metal,” he paused, glancing out into the late afternoon sky, “they will come soon, once the suns set and deprive us of light.” I could see the resignation on his face, devoid of hope. He didn’t think to win, to survive, just contain them long enough for the other outposts, like the one near Mos Ila, would have enough time to flee. He didn’t know they were in no position to do anything right now. Its times like this that make me really hate my job.

 

“Guess we’d better get back to work thinning the horde,” I stated to no one in particular. Mako unplugged the jack from the console and slipped it back into her neck port.

“Yeah, it’ll take a few minutes to print anyway.” We headed back into the cavern, leaving him to enjoy his last afternoon. I tried not to think about the hordes awaiting within or how much microfacturing goo Mako wanted to use. Some things were just too terrifying.

 

 

Edited April 26, 2015 by Feldraeth

[Striges]

commentary! (tagged for agent spoilers as well as general purposes)

 

 

@Alaurin: I like how you played Kaliyo here--she knows something’s up but not quite what, and whether it’s important for her. You also captured the sense I presume most Agent players get at that point in Ch2. What the hell, it was my own side? Then in-game putting together all the stuff they’ve shown you previously. Of course it was. Who else? Nicely done. (yw for answers!)

 

@Feldraeth:

“Now would be the perfect time to tell me how great I am,” she asserted

sounds so very Mako. Nice job finding a third alternative to what the game gives you, namely frying everyone or only the infected. Also playing the mistrust on both sides. Kaina’zul’anon’s mistrust of the Palawas is mostly systemic, while they have ample reason to be suspicious of her. There’s clear tension to be dealt with that's as important as the main threat.

 

[frauzet]

Comments and replies:

 

@Striges + Feldraeth: Thank you for your kind words. I am glad you think the setup was believable. Intelligence training was good. And Iolith isn't working alone at this point. I am not sure how long Giz would have survived had he been a DS V scumbag, but right now Io is the one not being very nice, even though Giz has no idea.

 

@alaurin: You capture the emotions very well. Trust is in short supply at that moment in an agents career. And telling Kaliyo leaving implies cowardice is supposed to be a sure bet to make her stay.

 

@Feldraeth: I still like your reasoning what's behind the infection. You show us why Azul relies on Mako's expertise and then there is the personal side of their relationship. I like how she's torn between the need to appear tough and her worries for her friend. And I second Striges regarding the use of Mako's “Now would be the perfect time to tell me how great I am". That was perfect.

 

 

 

Title: Borrowed and Bought

Prompt: Scent

Class: Smuggler (Gizalen), none (Iolith)

Words - ~1600

Spoilers - none

Takes place on Giz' ship, the Fox' Shadow, several months before the start of the ingame events and after this story.

 

The current prompt sparked an idea for Giz' and Io's first morning after. It escalated rather quickly. I tried to keep things in check, but it's still somewhat NSFW-ish.

 

The bed beside him was empty when Giz woke up. Dimly he remembered Merru sliding out of his embrace, mumbling something about the refresher. That had been when? The spot she had slept in had already grown cold. She hadn’t come back. Pity! Giz sat up and stretched before he got out of bed. On his first careful steps he shoved some of the things littering the floor aside. His gaze panned the chaos to find his blue sweatpants. They were not in the place he had left them. Had the droid undertaken another secret attempt to tidy up his room? No, after Giz’ latest threats that was unlikely. Good the factotum had no idea that Giz was more afraid of wiping its memory than it was himself. By now it had at least learned to abide by some of its master’s rules. Giz would sooner throw the droid out of the airlock than start that process anew. The default programming was a pain in the @ss. When Giz reached the door he decided the shorts he was wearing were modest enough. Maybe he’d left the sweatpants in the refresher after all.

 

He heard her voice when he left his room. Merru was talking to the droid. The clatter of cans drifted through the ship. Giz approached the galley. Standing on tiptoe Merru was searching the supply cabinet. She was wearing his Rotworms bathrobe. The droid stood beside her. Giz, still unnoticed, leaned against the wall to observe them.

 

“Seems like you’re right, Ceetwo. There’s canned nerf, canned nerf, and canned nerf. They are all the same.”

 

“Far from it, mistress Sidali,” the droid replied. “There are different brands with varying nutrient levels. The nominal fat content displays a range of 9.875 percent. The protein…”

 

“Thank you, Ceetwo,” Merru interrupted the droid. “I think I decided to have canned nerf for breakfast. I say we take…” Merru’s hand waved in front of the cans before it plunged amongst them to grab one and take it from the cabinet. “…this one.” A short inspection of the can followed. “Excellent vintage,” she stated.

 

Giz grinned. He wasn’t prepared to host guests but she did not seem to mind the limited menu very much. “I still have some frozen bantha steaks. We can have those later for lunch.” Giz watched her turn as he spoke.

 

She smiled at him. “Hey, good morning. Hope you don’t mind I made myself at home. I thought I’d let you sleep. Ceetwo showed me where to find things.” She looked down at her body and then spread her arms. “I borrowed your bathrobe while my clothes are in the washer.”

 

“Looks good on you.” It showed a considerable amount of cleavage. Giz thought he managed not to stare. There wasn’t much room to avoid each other on the Shadow, but she had not returned to his bed. “How are you feeling? Headache?”

 

“No, I am fine. I already took a shower, so why don’t you do the same, and then we have breakfast together.”

 

“Sounds like a plan.” He turned to head to the refresher.

 

“Oh, I used your toothbrush, hope you don’t think that’s icky.”

 

He gave the matter a short thought, then dismissed it. He would have kissed her without thinking twice. “I doubt anything icky inside your mouth would have had a chance to survive that amount of whiskey.” With a wink over his shoulder he continued to the refresher.

 

He returned wearing his sweatpants and a black t-shirt. Giz had remembered allowing the droid, now setting the table while Merru tended to the frying pan, to do the laundry two days ago. Giz stepped close to Merru and looked over her shoulder. With only a short detour to her decollete his gaze fell onto the pan. He sniffed. “Smells good.” It did. He usually ate the stuff cold out of the can. He hadn’t even known he had any flavoring ingredients other than pepper and salt in stock.

 

Merru turned and raised her head leaning slightly into him. Giz heard her sniff. “Yes, it does,” she said. “I used your deodorant, but it smells better on you.” She returned to her task of stirring the meat. “I found a bottle of hot sauce. Hope you like hot.”

 

Was he confusing her signals? “I am not sure we are still talking about the breakfast, but definitely yes!”

 

She scooped up a bit of the meat on the cooking spoon and turned around to him. Giz had to lean back a bit, and grabbed her waist to keep from staggering. Her eyes sparkled. “Try it,” she said.

 

Giz bent down slightly, keeping his gaze locked to hers across the spoon. He took a bite, chewed, and started to pant for cool air. With an effort he managed to swallow. He let go of Merru’s waist, took several steps back and fanned his mouth with his hands.

 

“Oh, I am sorry.” Giz thought Merru sounded sorry, but he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t see her clearly because of the tears in his eyes. He heard the door of the fridge open and close, and liquid being poured into a glass. “Here, drink this.” Merru held the glass out to him.

 

He took it, and after the first sips the burning sensation in his mouth lessened. Giz sat down on the edge of the table. The droid hurriedly tried to bring the table settings to safety. Giz took another gulp of what he now realized was blue milk. “Force. Are you trying to kill me?”

 

“I really am sorry. But I asked. Seems we don’t have the same definition of hot.” She stepped closer until she stood between his feet her fingertips lingering on his thighs. “At least when it comes to food.” She let the bathrobe slide off her left shoulder. “How about the other kind?”

 

Giz took hold of the bathrobe’s collar and pulled her closer for a kiss. She didn’t resist. Her lips were soft and parted willingly, her tongue waited for his. He pulled back to look at her, the remnants of the spices inside his mouth all but forgotten. “You sure?”

 

“Breakfast can wait. You’re tasting better than my cookeries.” She leaned in for the next kiss.

 

While Giz tongue explored her mouth his hands got rid of the bathrobe’s belt. Sliding beneath the fabric to the small of her back they pulled her body closer to his. Her warmth seeped through his shirt, her breasts pushed against his chest, the skin beneath his fingers was smooth and soft. The bathrobe was all she was wearing. He wanted to see, to feel, to taste more of her. In one smooth motion he got up, grabbed her waist, picked her up, turned, and sat her down on top of the table. He leaned above her, one hand supporting her neck, and tried to push her back down.

 

With one hand behind her on the table she resisted him. He stopped pushing. Instead he nibbled her earlobe. “Changed your mind?” he inquired, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper, a prayer it wasn’t so echoing through what was left of his thoughts.

 

“No,” Merru breathed in return, tilting her head to bare her neck to him. She moaned when he bit her tenderly. But she stopped his hand as he started to push the bathrobe from her other shoulder. “What about the droid?” she asked.

 

“It’s only a droid. Forget it’s there.” If she was afraid he had some surveillance equipment installed she wasn’t thinking it through. He certainly wouldn’t use the damned droid.

 

“Rest assured, mistress Sidali,” the droid piped up, “experience taught me to ignore any inappropriate behavior on behalf of my master and his assorted guests completely.”

 

“Now, that’s reassuring!” Merru pulled the bathrobe back up over her shoulder.

 

Giz straightened, searching for something to throw at the factotum. “You’re dead, droid.”

 

Merru cocked an eyebrow. “Assorted?”

 

Giz hung his head. “This time I’ll space the kriffin’ scrapheap.”

 

“It is time to look after mistress Sidali’s laundry,” the droid declared, and hastily waddled towards the refresher.

 

“Don’t forget to park yourself in the airlock when you’re done!” Giz called after it. When he looked back at Merru, she was grinning.

 

“Assorted, huh?” she repeated.

 

He felt his cheeks heating. Kark, he never blushed. “That probably sounded worse than it really is. It — I — …” Was there a way to save this?

 

She sat up putting her hands on his chest sliding them up to his shoulders and down to the sleeve hems of his t-shirt, her eyes following the movement of her right hand, lingering on his upper arm for a moment. “You’re a good-looking guy traveling the galaxy by your lonesome.” She searched for his gaze. “Not like I expected you to be celibate.” Her hands still on his arms she leaned slightly back and wrapped her legs around his hip.

 

Now he, too, grinned. “Nothing wrong with a bit of experience, if you ask me.” Pulling Merru into an embrace he hoisted her off the table. “I think you were right. We should relocate to my bed before the return of the screwed doom.”

 

“More like the doom of screwing?” she giggled.

 

Giz shook his head in mock indignation. “Tsk, mistress Sidali, inappropriate behavior and language, tsk!”

 

“Must be your bad influence.” She bit his ear, and the movement of her hips nearly made him stumble.

 

He couldn’t decide if the way to his bed was too long or too short.

 

 

[alaurin]

I updated the Index Friday and plan to get back into the habit of updating it after the new prompt is posted.

 

Comments/Replies:

 

@Striges:

@Alaurin: I know some adults who still haven't figured out "a little goes a long way". And the prank was marvelous (speaking of Top Gear, I have a vague memory of Clarkson playing a similar prank with a twitter message). It does beg the question of what other species think of all the various perfumes and fragrances. Might need to make that a prompt.

 

Still giggling at the thought of Captain Crankypanys mobbed by overfriendly teens.

Glad you enjoyed it and I’ll admit I was giggling when I wrote that bit….especially picturing Jorgan’s face at the end. YAY, I inspired a prompt!! I’m going to have fun with that….

 

@Alaurin: I like how you played Kaliyo here--she knows something’s up but not quite what, and whether it’s important for her. You also captured the sense I presume most Agent players get at that point in Ch2. What the hell, it was my own side? Then in-game putting together all the stuff they’ve shown you previously. Of course it was. Who else? Nicely done. (yw for answers!)

Kaliyo is a difficult one for me to write because I really don’t like her much. I’m glad I could capture the emotions/reactions of the Agent at that pivotal point. The Agent story is one of my favorites, particularly Act 2, but one I’m hesitant to write about since I worry I won’t do it justice. I remember the first time running through that mission……I just stared at my computer screen, whispering ***. I swear I have some awesome followers on my Tumblr because within 15 minutes of asking that question, I had several answers! You guys really are the bestest ever!!

 

 

@Mirdthestrill: RE: Nostalga-I liked seeing Mallena visiting her old haunts and it’s too bad she didn’t have time to visit some of her old friends from school. It’s sad that her and Ketturah grew apart because it sounds like the latter could really use a friend she can trust right now. Hopefully they’ll reunite someday.

 

RE: Girls’ Night In-I always love stories like that…..just plain fun with the gals. I like how they were all comfortable asking species’ specific questions and you did a great job with the answers!

 

@Alaurin- I'm not as familiar with this legacy, but that's OK! Better way to get rid of interested parties than a lot of stuff I could think of. Heck, I'm sure Ketturah wouldn't have been able to come up with that. Somehow, I have a feeling that that picture Mako took will reappear someday when he really doesn't want it to... And as a woman that does like a little scent on a man, I still agree that a little goes a long way. YOU ONLY NEED LIKE ONE SQUIRT, PEOPLE! And yes, that goes for girls with those body spray things, too.

I’m pretty sure when I first started writing for Kat and Tia, you weren’t very far with your BH and Trooper so you probably weren’t able to read their stories…..which is completely understandable. Glad you’re liking what you have read from them so far! Oh that picture will definitely come back to haunt our favorite grumpy Cathar……probably several times. I also enjoy a little scent on a man but my hubby isn’t one for that stuff…..which if fine with me. I tend to have a lot of skin allergies so I don’t wear perfume often and when I do, I use as little as possible. My biggest pet peeve is when I’m working out next to someone who’s been a little too liberal with their perfume/cologne……nothing worse than sneezing while you’re already huffing and puffing…

 

 

@Feldraeth: RE: The Ghost of the Desert: Observation and Analysis-It’s funny how you can miss things while focused on the task at hand. I love the details you mentioned in the cave and I’ll admit, I’ve never noticed those things before…..the carvings, the crystals. I guess that mission always creeped me out a little and I just wanted it over with. Also like the use of another mission item there….Jeek’s device. Nicely done and a clever idea.

 

RE: The Ghost of the Desert: Return to the Watch Post-I enjoyed this part and the look at how close Zul has gotten with Mako…..even if she doesn’t let on. Nice detailed use of science and tech in your story…..always love those details and I often forget to include them in my own writing. Again…I also love the tying in of multiple missions there and appreciated the alternative you gave to that particular mission outcome.

 

@Alaurin: Distracting a local authority figure before committing a crime is intelligent. Mortifying the guy your sister has chemistry with is amusing, achieving both simultaneously and getting a photo to show said sister is beautifully evil. I approve

HAHA……Kat got a lot of practice running distractions living on the streets of Nar Shaddaa when she and Val brought in credits through less than legal means. Embarrassing Jorgan was just an amusing bonus for her. As for the photo……I’m sure that will go around more than once.

 

@Alaurin: As always great characterisations seen, not just from Kaliyo but the agent himself. They were all thoughts I remember thinking during that mission. I enjoyed your use of the in-game dialogue from Watcher X and Keeper to show Luken's changing viewpoint.

Glad you enjoyed that story. Act 2 is my favorite for the IA storyline since it is so emotion provoking and I just love Watcher X’s character. That particular mission is such a pivotal time for the Agent in my opinion and one that not only inspired me to finally write for Luken, but was also a key to Lunan aka Jadely’s beginning.

 

 

@frauzet: RE: Just a Simple Trade-Oh, I’ve been looking forward to this one! Very smooth Io and poor Giz……guy has no idea what just hit him.

 

RE: Borrowed and Bought-Oooo-la-la! I read the Tumblr version and was grinning the whole time. Giz does need to get a little variety of foodstuffs on that ship though……not that they were overly concerned with food at the end.

 

@alaurin:

The Journey Begins: You sure like to make things even more dangerous for your chars, can't say I blame you

And Pierce is worth the effort.

False Advertising: That.was.not.nice. Poor Jorgan. And probably even poorer anyone who has to deal with him during the next week or so... (Imagine me grinning.)

One of these days I’ll make a character with the most boring past for something different. I’m really hoping Pierce is worth the effort and I’m still annoyed that I somehow messed that whole thing up the first time around. As for Jorgan…..I’ll be honest, I had the most evil grin on my face when plotting that one. Yeah, he’s probably going to be grouchy for a bit, something that Tia will have most likely have fun with.

 

@alaurin: You capture the emotions very well. Trust is in short supply at that moment in an agents career. And telling Kaliyo leaving implies cowardice is supposed to be a sure bet to make her stay.

Awww, thanks. The agent story really is a rough ride emotionally and I’ve always been nervous to tackle that in my own fics, but the prompt just begged for me to finally write for Luken. HAHA, yeah Kaliyo can be easy to figure out in that aspect…..she still scares me a bit though.

 

 

I am currently working on a story for this week's prompt and hope to have it post worthy in a couple of days, but until then you all can have that 2nd story I wrote for last week's Paranoia prompt.

 

Title: Back to Where It All Began

Prompt: Paranoia

Character: Lanj’adel’yakko, core name Jadely-BH, Mako

Setting: Dromund Kaas, a few weeks after Getting My Feet Wet

Spoilers: BH Dromund Kaas

 

 

“Good luck hunter,” my handler drawled, her lightly lined face a mixture of hope and concern as Mako and I turned to leave, “You’re going to need it.”

 

I felt numb with disbelief as we walked out of the Mandalorian Enclave. I heard a chirp coming from my pack and I stopped at one of the benches to dig out my datapad. Hoping I’d somehow misheard Crysta, I checked the info she’d sent, but once again my heart sank as I reread the job slip for my third and final bounty on Dromund Kaas.

 

“Bloody hell,” I muttered, my real accent slipping out before I could catch it, “Of all the places in Kaas City I just had to be sent to the one I wanted to avoid the most.”

 

“Come on,” Mako prompted, trying to keep her tone light, “Let’s go find out who our target is.”

 

Her attempt at nonchalance was offset by the hint anxiety I heard in her voice and I raised a brow at her, “Just like that, huh?”

 

“It’s just another job Jadely,” Mako tried to rational as we left the Mandalorian Enclave and started walking along the suspended walkway of the Citadel, “And we’ve been on planet for the past five days without anyone figuring out who-”

 

“Stars Mako!” I hissed sharply, then quickly lowered my voice as I looked around, “They have eyes and ears everywhere you know.”

 

Her doe eyes popped wide open and she gave me an apologetic look. We continued on in silence past the towering Sith Sanctum, but my mind was racing. It was hard not to remember the last time I’d walked this very path, only in the opposite direction. Every muscle in my body was as tense now as it had been when I’d followed that group of drunken Mandalorians to what I’d hoped would be safety. Luckily my gamble had paid off and an unlikely savior got me off planet without anyone being wiser until days later.

 

“I don’t intend to quit now Mako,” I promised as we continued on down the walkway towards our destination, my heart beating faster with every step that brought us closer, “Braden saved my life when most wouldn’t given the circumstances.”

 

“He was a good man……a father to me,” she nodded and I could tell she was trying to hold back the tears.

 

I knew all too well the pain of loss and suddenly I felt guilty for snapping at her earlier, especially considering she had a point. We’d been on planet five days now and I’d even run into a few people our family had known well without even a flicker of recognition. No one equated the brassy pink haired Chiss hailing from Hutt Space with the shy young girl who loved to tinker and had developed several clever gadgets, two of which saved her life that fateful day a few weeks ago. Still, it was unnerving to be back in the Imperial capital that had been my home since birth.

 

Other emotions began to compete with the fear that gripped me despite my best efforts…..sadness that my parents were gone, worry about my brother whom I had yet to locate, and a yearning to go home. I would’ve been happy to at least get some mementos……the scrapbook of family filmsies and maybe some of mother’s jewelry, but it had been too risky to return to my family’s lavish apartment before Braden secreted me off planet. Maybe if I ever managed to track down my brother he might be able to get something to me. Then again Luken might be in hiding given what I’d been shown that day and if that was the case, I wouldn’t be able to find him unless he wanted me to. Luken had been trained to drop off the grid……but the question that still bothered me was why he would need to.

 

“You ready?” Mako’s whispered question broke into my thoughts.

 

“Nope, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be,” I admitted, then I swallowed past the lump in my throat, took a deep breath to try and calm my frayed nerves, and entered the imposing fortress that was Intelligence Headquarters, preying to the maker I came back out.

 

Edited May 1, 2015 by alaurin

[alaurin]

Hrmmmm, must've broke the thread with that last bit......eh.....I'm gonna offer up another anyways.

 

 

Title: Simply Irresistible

Prompt: Scents

Characters: Dekkyn Varlok-BH, Jaxzin Roark-Smuggler, Ka’van-Kitar’s JC, Risha

Setting: Nar Shaddaa Promenade, after the class stories

Spoilers: BH Act 1 finale, Smuggler Act 3 finale, minor companion spoiler for Theran Cedrax

 

 

“Would you like that gift wrapped sir? There’s no extra charge.”

 

“That would be great…..uh….thanks!” Dekkyn smiled shyly, relieved that he wouldn’t have to wrap the tiny box with his big clumsy fingers.

 

“It’ll just take a few minutes,” the sales lady told him as she took his purchase to the back counter.

 

“Hey there handsome,” a feminine voice spoke up next to him, “Care to try Rogue’s latest fragrance? Guaranteed to drive the ladies wild!”

 

“I….uh,” Dekkyn stammered at the pretty blonde holding out a cologne bottle, but before he could get his protest out, she hit him with it.

 

“Trust me, you’ll be happy later,” she winked before moving on towards a group that just entered the shop.

 

At least it didn’t smell too bad, Dek sighed inwardly, wishing he didn’t get so tongue tied around women, Maybe Mako will like it. Still Dek was never one to wear cologne much preferring the simple, crisp clean scent of his soap and it wasn’t a habit he felt the need to get into now. His cousin always used a little whenever they’d go pub crawling on their weekend leaves and most times ended the night with female company. Jax used to tease him about it, saying he never had to resort to scenting himself for a woman. Dekkyn usually steered clear of that argument, preferring a quiet drink and the occasional cigarra……something that typically earned him a healthy dose of ribbing from both Zev and Jax. He couldn’t help that women flustered the hell out of him and he’d rather enjoy a drink than go chasing after one…..something that would eventually require conversation and talking wasn’t something Dekkyn did much of. In fact, he preferred to read a good novel in quiet solitude rather than go out at all, but Zev and Jax were his best friends and despite the occasional awkwardness when Jax convinced women to join them, Dek did enjoy spending time with his brothers in arms outside of combat.

 

“All finished,” the lady waiting on him broke into his musings as she held up a pretty package, “How’s this.”

 

“Looks great,” Dek nodded as she put the wrapped box in a bag for him to carry out.

 

“Thanks,” her smile broadened and he could see she was genuinely happy to do it, “I love wrapping presents.”

 

“You’re good at it…..and thank you for wrapping it…….I’m terrible at that sort of stuff,” Dek murmured as he dug out some credits to tip her, “Ummm…..here’s something for your trouble.” He held out a hand, offering a credit chit and heard her inhale a little as she took it.

 

“No trouble at all……especially for a sweet guy like yourself,” she purred, that smile looking more appreciative as those green eyes boldly raked him over.

 

“Well…..I…….uh…….,” Dek felt his face heating up as it always did whenever a woman started flirting with him, “Err……thanks again and ummm……have a nice day.”

 

“I’m definitely having one now,” she replied with a sultry laugh as he turned towards exit.

 

More than a little uncomfortable, Dek quickened his pace across the Promenade in desperate hopes that Jax would be waiting with Risha their meeting spot already. He was going to surprise his wife for her birthday with dinner at Above it All and Risha agreed to help him pick out a new dress for her. He smiled, his lengthy stride slowing as he pictured Mako’s reaction when he told her where they were going and suddenly he couldn’t wait to see her sweet face.

 

“Hey!” an alarmed voice cried out. Dekkyn had been so deep in thought that he didn’t notice the group standing outside the café he was passing by until he nearly plowed them over.

 

“Oh gosh,” he winced, thoroughly embarrassed as he helped her pick up the packages she’d dropped, “I’m so sorry…….wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

 

“It’s alright,” the petite Human muttered, then her full lips curved in a slow smile as she got a better look at him and her voice took on a husky tone when she went on, “I think I can forgive a handsome fella like yourself. Maybe you can come have a drink with me to make up for it.”

 

“I…..uh…..”

 

“Wow Brie, you don’t waste any time,” a buxom Zeltron spoke up from behind him, her voice itself an invitation, “But I can’t blame you……he smells utterly divine and has a fantastic derrière to match.”

 

Dekkyn felt his neck grow really hot as he tried to back away from both women, “Errrr…..I’ve got…..”

 

“And that bod,” a tall pale green Twi’lek purred to his left, her lavender eyes raking him over, “I like big men. You got a name sugar?”

 

“N-n-no,” Dekkyn stuttered, trying to calm his nerves enough to put together a coherent sentence, “I-I-I’m m-m-m….”

 

“Hey, I saw him first!” Brie insisted, then she glared smugly at the Zeltron who’d commented on his smell, “And Jilli, you have a man already!”

 

“Oh please,” Jilli scoffed, “We’re not exclusive……and you’re one to talk!”

 

“He’s too much man for either of you,” the Twi’lek snorted, “But not for me, so whatcha say sugar…..”

 

“I….uh….have to….,” Dek stammered as he looked for a way to escape without being rude. Unfortunately for him, two of the cafe’s waitresses showed up to investigate and began eyeing him like he was desert.

 

“I don’t think so, Ky’lee,” Brie countered, “You’ve got a shift in half an hour…..remember?”

 

“Dammit,” Ky’lee grumbled, wishing she’d never agreed to take on the extra shift when one of the other dancers called in.

 

“Hey darlin’,” Jilli drawled when she noticed Dek was looking a bit anxious, “It’s alright….relax, none of us bite unless you ask.” Then she leaned up and planted a kiss on his cheek.

 

 

*****

 

 

“Ka’van!” the grey Cathar called out and the familiar ginger haired Jedi a few feet away turned with a start.

 

“Jax! Risha!” Ka’van grinned jovially as he jogged over, “It’s been a while.”

 

“That it has……we’ve been busy at Port Nowhere,” Jax explained, “Trying to make the place profitable again.”

 

“Going well I hope.”

 

“It’s got plenty of potential,” Risha sighed, “But there’s a lot of work to be done. Darmas really didn’t do much upkeep at all and it shows.”

 

“Well I have every faith the two of you can turn it around,” Ka’van clapped Jax on the shoulder, “So my friend…..what brings the two of you to the Promenade?”

 

“We’re meeting Dekkyn,” Jax answered, “Risha agreed to help him pick out a dress for Mako. It’s her birthday and he’s surprising her with dinner at Above it All.”

 

“Nice place,” Ka’van nodded, “Not easy to get into though.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Jax agreed, “He made the reservation two months ago and has been keeping his jobs local these past couple of weeks.”

 

“Speaking of Dekkyn,” Risha broke in, brown eyes widening as she pointed towards crimson Zabrak’s imposing figure.

 

“What’s he doing?” Ka’van’s brow furrowed as he spotted Jax’s friend surrounded by three beautiful women.

 

“Probably pissing his pants,” Jax began to chuckle and only laughing harder at Ka’van’s puzzled look. He finally stopped after a moment to explain when Risha glared at him. “Come on…..you guys know how quiet Dek is…..”

 

“Definitely not a talker,” Ka’van agreed recalling how long it took before he’d heard a full sentence come from the guy.

 

“Dek’s a sweetheart. He’s just really shy,” Risha crossed her arms, “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

 

“It’s more than that happening right now,” Jax snickered, “I’ll let you in on a secret……the Mandalorian’s Great Hunt Champion is afraid of girls. Women, especially pretty ones, make him nervous and Gods help him if one actually starts flirting with him…….he gets all flustered and starts stuttering something awful.”

 

“Why are you laughing at him?!” Risha demanded, cuffing her husband upside the head as he laughed harder at the poor Zabrak trying to back away from those women.

 

“Because it’s funny,” Jax ducked, “I mean look at him…..this is a man who can snap a man’s neck with his bare hand. One time…..actually it was just before I flew that shipment of blasters to Ord for Rogun….well anyway, Dek and I were out at the cantinas and we saw a group of guys harassing a couple of women. We told them to kark off and they were stupid enough to fight us. Dek grabbed one by the throat and head butted another so hard he literally busted the man’s face……all this before anyone even drew a weapon. Yet a slip of a woman starts hitting on him and he’s quaking in his boots.”

 

“Uh-oh, he's got to more on him now. They’ve got him surrounded,” Ka’van observed, “and it looks like they’re starting fight over him…..lucky bastard. I’ve got to hand it to him, wife or no, that’s a lot of temptation to resist.”

 

“He’s always been like that,” Jax snorted, “One time during our military days, me and Zev tricked him into using the girls’ showers on a temp base. He walked completely naked right into a room full of showering women……he couldn’t look a female in the eye for weeks after.”

 

“You guys are terrible,” Risha rolled her eyes as she stalked off to rescue Dekkyn who was currently trying to get an overenthusiastic Zeltron off of him.

 

“What’s the matter Dek?” Jax snickered a few minutes later as his buddy approached, “Having a little girl trouble?”

 

“Playing hard to get?” Ka’van added, then caught a whiff of Dek’s cologne, “Well you’re sending out mixed signals smelling like that.”

 

“Wow that’s pungent!” Jax snorted, wrinkling his nose the scent reached him.

 

“Really?” Both Ka’van and Risha raised a brow at the Cathar, the latter going on, “I like it…..smells kinda sexy.”

 

“I like it too,” Ka’van admitted, “In fact, I wouldn’t mind getting some. Where did you get it?”

 

“Alluring Aromas,” Dek answered, “I was getting Mako a bottle of her favorite perfume and one of the sales people sprayed me with some new Rogue stuff while I was waiting for the gift wrapping.”

 

“Well if Mako’s reaction is anything like those other women,” Ka’van smirked, “You’re in for one hell of a good night.”

 

“Speaking of those others, you might want to wipe that lipstick off your cheek,” Risha suggested, trying not to laugh at Dek’s embarrassment, “And I’d check your pockets as well. I definitely saw one of those women slip a piece of flimsiplast in your jacket.”

 

“Oh geeze,” Dek grumbled as he pulled out a few scraps out of his jacket pocket.

 

“I swear, you are just the luckiest bastard,” Jax shook his head at his old friend, “You can barely utter a sentence to a woman, yet you still manage to snag four com frequencies from a group of smoking-hey!” Jax flinched as Risha cuffed him again, “Of average looking women that hold no interest in me whatsoever.”

 

“That’s better,” Risha smirked as Dek and Ka’van chuckled.

 

“I’ll be happy to take those numbers off your hands,” Ka’van grinned, ignoring the scowl Jax shot at him as Dekkyn handed them over.

 

“Is it really that bad?” Dekkyn frowned as Jax shuffled away from him a little.

 

“Sorry man,” Jax sniffed as he tried to stifle a sneeze, “That stuff’s starting to make my eyes water.”

 

“Really?”

 

“I can’t help it,” Jax shrugged as his nose twitched, “My species has an enhanced sense of smell which is why we avoid stuff like perfumes and cologne. It’s too strong for us. To you guys it smells nice, a hint of spice to it that’s probably pleasing. To me it’s overpowering……my nose burns and I feel like I’m going to sneeze.”

 

Risha handed her husband a tissue as he did just that, “I wear perfume sometimes…..you’ve never objected.”

 

“Because you like it,” Jax smiled at her, “And after we got closer, I watered it down a little so it wasn’t as strong.”

 

“I swear I’ve smelled some sort of floral fragrance on your sister,” Risha challenged, a slender brow raised at her husband.

 

“You probably have,” Jax confirmed, “Sienna uses rosewater often when she and her mate go to society events. Syarra keeps little sachets made of dried flowers, fig, and spice in her wardrobe and trunks. We do like natural, earthy scents like leather, tobacco, flowers, spices, fruits, nuts…..just not that strong, artificial crap many Humans like to use in excess.”

 

“Interesting,” Ka’van mused, storing that particular bit of information as he glanced at his chrono, “Anyways, I should get going. I promised Theran I’d check his shop out. He had an unusual break in and has no idea who’s behind it.”

 

“Want company?” Jax offered, not really wanting to go dress shopping.

 

“Sure.”

 

“Just try and stay out of trouble for once,” Risha sighed before grabbing the still flustered Zabrak by the arm, “Well come on Casanova, let’s go get a killer dress for your wife so any other women will think twice before deciding you smell too sexy to resist. Until then, I’ll keep any overzealous admirers at a safe distance.”

 

 

Author’s Note:

 

 

Hope no one minds the assumptions I made about the Cathar species, but I figure they likely have an enhanced sense of smell (as well as hearing and probably good night vision) and would probably be sensitive to things like perfume and cologne. I figured more natural/outdoorsy scents would be pleasing and could be used sparingly…….such as rosewater or sachets in dresser drawers.

 

I think I've mentioned this before, but I have the bestest Tumblr followers. A big thank you to Striges/Striges13 for letting me borrow Above it All for the name of the posh, upscale restaurant. Thank you and lesaberisa/lesabear for your fantastic suggestions……okay, I did cringe when I saw the name Skadge’s BBQ.

 

 

And because I can, I'll share a fun bit I cobbled together yesterday for a Tumblr follower that needed some fluffy fluff/warm fuzzies after a stressful college finals week.

 

 

Title: Girl Talk

Prompt: Sisterhood, Xenobiology

Characters: Katrynka Vleska-BH, Tiannya Vleska-Trooper, Mako

Setting: Alderaan, a few hours after False Advertising

Spoilers: minor mention of Trooper Ord Mantell

 

warning: some rather risque conversation below......maybe a wee bit beyond PG-13

 

“Stars it’s beautiful here,” the silver Cathar sighed with appreciation, her lavender eyes taking in the snowcapped mountains around them.

 

“Alderaan would be a nice place to live if it weren’t for the nobility,” her littermate agreed as she passed over a flask, her cream colored fur luminous in the moonlight.

 

“Wow Kat!” Tia grinned after taking a drink, “That’s good stuff!” She took another swallow before handing the flask back.

 

“You bet your *** it is,” Kat murmured before taking a healthy pull, “I snuck some of Gault’s private stash……and he’s pretty snooty when it comes to his liquor.”

 

“So you really mated with that Devaronian,” Tia shook her head, giving her littermate a sly grin, “Interesting choice…….”

 

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it,” Kat shot back with a smirk, “It was amazing…..even more so since I was six days in. Have you even seen a Devaronian’s tongue?”

 

“Can’t say that I have.”

 

“Well…..it had to be a good seven inches at least and let me tell you…….”

 

“Okay, I think I’m going back to the ship now,” Mako snorted as she stood, “Because that was waaaaay more than I ever needed to hear.”

 

“Hey, you think that’s too much, you should’ve seen his-“

 

“Ewwww, TMI!” the petite Human grumbled, “Urgh, I so did not need that image in my head.”

 

“Awwww Mako,” Kat called after her friend, “Come back, I’ll stop.”

 

“Nah, it’s alright,” Mako smiled, “I’m getting tired and you two haven’t gotten much sister time since you reunited.”

 

“Sleep well!” Tia snickered.

 

“Yeah, sweet dreams,” Kat joined in.

 

“More like nightmares after that conversation,” Mako muttered as she walked away.

 

“So…..six days,” Tia whistled, raising the flask in salute, “That’s pretty impressive. I’ve only made it four days.”

 

“That’s pretty good,” Kat conceded, “Especially given the fact that you’re in the military and regularly surrounded by those alpha male types……I’m not sure I could’ve lasted as long in that situation.”

 

“Oh, let me tell you, it wasn’t easy,” Tia sighed, “Usually I had an idea when my cycle was coming and always had enough male friends that finding a partner wasn’t an issue. Most of the men our age in the military aren’t looking for a commitment and my friends knew what was going on. It was always kept to a ‘friends with benefits’ situation.”

 

“So why did you go four days?”

 

“Well, I’d just transferred to a new assignment, literally hours before my cycle hit. I didn’t know anyone at all and despite my somewhat casual attitude about sex, I prefer to avoid having ‘one nighters’ with a complete stranger.”

 

“Me either,” Kat admitted, “Just doesn’t sit right with me personally.”

 

“Exactly,” Tia agreed, “Anyways, I was the second day in and another Cathar female, Renna, was in our barracks. She noticed my enhanced scent and asked me how far in I was. When I told her and admitted my reservations, she gave me a tip that would help dull the raging hormones a little. Renna would cut herself on the inside of her thigh…..just enough to sting a bit and take her mind off of other things. I was skeptical, but recalled another Cathar friend from training who was injured during her cycle and made it the whole way through without mating.”

 

Kat’s honey eyes narrowed at her littermate, a knowing smirk on her face, “You tried it, didn’t you?!”

 

Tia nodded, “That afternoon, we had field training with the men and after seeing all those hard bodied men, I knew I wouldn’t be able to make it much longer. That night, I took my vibroknife and made a cut on the inside of my thigh. Unfortunately, I cut a little too deep and we had field training again the next day. The pain dulled my libido, but the cut ended up getting infected. I was hesitant to visit the medic, embarrassed that I’d have to explain what I did and why, however, the next morning, that cut looked awful and was killing me. Luckily, my roommate had already left on weekend leave so I didn’t have to explain to her what I did. Hell, I could barely walk! So I dressed and went to the medic on base. Thankfully, most people were taking advantage of leave time and not on base. In fact, I was the only patient in the clinic and was seen right away.”

 

“Oh, Tia,” Kat giggled, “Did you come clean?”

 

“I had to! He could easily tell that was made with a knife and I couldn’t lie and say it happened during field training. I’d need to fill out an incident report……so I just blurted it out.”

 

“What’d he say?”

 

“He gave me a dressing down on how ridiculously stupid and careless that was, cleaned out the wound, stitched it up, bandaged it, injected me with an antibiotic and gave me some pain killers to take with me. Seeing that I was limping, he closed the clinic, put his com frequency on the door in case he was needed, and helped me back to my room. As soon as he got me inside, he shut the door, locked it…….then f***ed me good and proper!”

 

“No way!” Kat coughed, having been mid swallow at that last part.

 

“Oh Kat, he was so hot,” Tia gave a dreamy sigh, remembering that time fondly, “and we shagged like mad for the entire weekend!”

 

“As hot as Captain Crankypants?”

 

“Eh,” Tia shrugged nonchalantly as she accepted the flask again, “but speaking of……I still can’t believe you guys did that to him!”

 

“Oh Tia,” Kat broke out into giggles at the memory from earlier in the day, “The look on his face was priceless! The pic Mako got didn’t do it justice…….it was the perfect blend of embarrassment, uncertainty, and outright panic. I almost feel bad about it…….”

 

“I wouldn’t……he could stand to be knocked down a peg or two. That was some quick thinking though,” Tia mused, “And now that I’ve finally seen the ad, the likeness is uncanny. Stars I wish I could’ve been there. I’ll have to get a copy of that pic from Mako…..could come in handy someday.”

 

“What can I say….I always was good at running distractions back on Nar Shaddaa,” Kat shrugged, then she winked at her sister, “And you just want a copy to put under your pillow…….maybe to kiss goodnight since you can’t have the real thing right now.”

 

“Shut up, Kat,” Tia growled, snatching the flask from her laughing sister and taking a healthy swallow, wishing she hadn’t shared that particular part of Tatooine with Kat.

 

“Hey, I was just teasing,” Kat sobered, those honey eyes full of concern as Tia looked so utterly lost. “I thought you were happy about……”

 

“I was,” Tia cut her off, “I am, but…..it’s just that…..it’s all so confusing. I hated him on Ord, but that last day my hormones were all crazy…”

 

“And hate was set aside for lust,” Kat nodded, recalling their conversation when they were reunited on Nar Shaddaa, “Totally understandable.”

 

“It’s more than that,” Tia admitted, “I sorta made a pass at him just before I set out for the Seps stronghold. I swear he was going to take me up on it too, but then he just brushed me off…..rather harshly. I was so mad…..so frustrated……so humiliated…..so rejected…..so………so….”

 

“So hurt,” Kat finished, “Did he know you were starting your Cycle?”

 

Tia nodded, “He was shaking when he put the tracker in my arm.”

 

“I’ll bet he was just trying to focus on the mission and all that,” Kat offered, knowing full well the good Captain had a thing for her littermate, “Think about it, he was in charge and having to send you into a dangerous situation. He probably didn’t want either of you to be distracted……you remember how Mom and Dad were.”

 

“Yeah,” Tia smiled sadly, “You’ve got a point.”

 

Of course I do,” Kat insisted, then decided to prod a little further, “So what else is bothering you?”

 

“Well at first I was taunting him….back on Taris when I realized he was Garza’s backup,” Tia replied, “A little payback for him being a jerk and the rejection. Plus it just felt good to kick his a** after all the rookie crap he dished out on Ord.”

 

“But it became more.”

 

“It did…..and I’m not sure when, but I don’t know about him. If he’s just reacting to all the teasing I put him through, or if he’s genuinely interested.”

 

“Well, I’m no expert,” Kat snorted as she mussed Tia’s mane, “But when a guy kisses you senseless, for the first time no less, in the sand while burning shuttle debris is raining down all around you……I’d say he’s definitely interested.”

 

 

Author's Note:

 

The Cathar Mating Cycle was completely made up by yours truly and was first introduced in this story.

 

Edited October 1, 2015 by alaurin

[Striges]

I started to not be late this time.

 

@Alaurin: I can imagine Jadely wondering if the whole bit was a setup, or if Intelligence would figure out who she was, or any number of Bad Things. Here’s to being brave enough to go anyway.

 

I always hated running the gauntlet at department store perfume counters. At least they ask now (usually) before spraying. Poor Dek, though, both for embarrassment and explaining all that to Mako. You know he’s going to miss a pocket. You just know. (And you’re more than welcome to Above it All)

 

I like how you show Cathar as being more aware or sensitive to smells than the average human. That’s something you’ve often incorporated in your stories. There's a whole sensory element that humans (and readers), as a rule, don't rely on much. For your characters it's part of who they are. That said, I’m almost with Mako on the TMI for the last one.

 

@Frauzet: With the canned nerf all I could think of was spam. A pantry full of spam and nothing else. Eeg. Giz in your story definitely comes across as a decent guy. A regular guy, a person, not a just a character. Maybe it’s because we’re inside his head and know what he’s thinking, but it’s obvious he doesn’t see any deception on Iolith’s part. No hidden agendas. I feel bad for him in a way. Also because: spam.

[Striges]

May Day, time for a new prompt.

 

Week of May 1, 2015

Dance: We’ve had music prompts before, but what about dance? Whether formal or informal, group, alone, or in pairs, most cultures accompany music with dance. How does your character relate? Do they sit on the sidelines watching others or do they command the attention of all on the floor? It’s May Day! Write a story about your character and how they dance, even if it’s with two left feet.

 

And, as ever,

 

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7489974post=2 and http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7489991post=3 (yes, we’re up to two full posts!). Many thanks to Alaurin for maintaining these lists.

 

 

This week's featured NotLP:

Fitness - Let's face it, the jobs and adventures our characters go through are physically punishing. How do your characters hold up? Do they specifically work out and train, or do they rely on natural prowess? Do they ever fall out of practice? How do they compare to others, or do they go out of their way to avoid comparison? Prompt courtesy of Kitar.

 

 

 

 

Got an idea for a prompt? Send me a pm!

[LordMatthewS]

This is a very interesting idea.

[Feldraeth]

Hey everyone, I've got a trio of stories to post. the first I started writing a few weeks ago but got sidetracked with a Fistful of Credits (not like that hasn't happened before. Tarmin's only been floating without air for what, two months?). I've had an interesting couple of days and needed to relax. Anyway, onto the comments

 

Comments

 

 

@Frauzet: well written, entertaining throughout and did she just slip him something in the spicy meal? For that matter, is Ceetwo still Giz's or has she subverted its programming? either way, it's nice to see it follow in the tradition of golden droids and ****-block smugglers with nobles.

 

@Alaurin: as always, great and believable characterisation. Don't worry about missing the details in the Palawan settlement. I've added most of the ones I mentioned, as it didn't feel like a settlement before.

 

Back to where it all began - interesting style change, going to first person: can really feel the paranoia in Lanj'adel'yakko. Ah, Mako and her naivety. it's almost as if someone who can learn almost everything about someone with a stray thought doesn't recognise how much everyone else values secrecy.

 

Simply Irresistable - What's in that cologne - is it Faleen pheromones? also Jax and Ka'van are terrible, letting him suffer like that and finally, while Jax is bunged up from the cologne, Ka'van smells a mystery. who broke into Theran's shop, what were they after and what did they take? mysteries!

 

Girl Talk - For the doctor's checklist, my reaction matched Kat's, albeit with a hot, non-alcoholic drink.

 

 

 

Prompt: Mistaken Identity, Boring Conversation Anyway

Title: Uppity Imperials

Perspective: Vette: Twi’lek adventurer

Word Count: 1,304

Spoilers: Early Black Talon

 

 

 

“Uh huh, no.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Come again?” Kilran drawled suavely, but the ear on the scarred side of his face twitched. He’d heard; he was just giving the kid a chance to not get poisoned by NR-Oh-No, the creepy manslaughter droid.

 

“I said no, Kilran,” the kid repeated this time with more conviction. Okay, what’s with him? Ever since lunch, he’s been getting grumpier and grumpier. Was it something to do with the Twi’lek Sith? She’d answered questions and didn’t seem at all bothered with the kid killing her apprentice.

“I urge you to reconsider,” he drawled, and I think the rest of the line goes ‘it would be most beneficial to your health’ or something just as supervillain-y.

 

“No means no, Imperial,” the kid growled, and wheeled on the spot, purple robe whirling, “I’m going exploring!” Then, the kid stormed out of a meeting with the Butcher of Coruscant and probably the most powerful not-Sith in the empire. Everyone’s gaze fell on me, as if I was responsible for him: Eep. Uh, I shrugged, offered my upturned palms out to Mako and legged it after the kid. He’d gonna get me killed.

 

He hadn’t gotten far, pretty much just dawdling around the corner. Spotting me, he whirled his coat and shot off through an opening door. Jogging, I rounded the corner in time to see him approach a shielded passage. Now, I know they didn’t want anyone down there: guards and shields are pretty obvious clues. They just made me want to sneak in even more though. Seeing how the kid charged right at them, I wasn’t the only one.

 

“Please move aside immediately,” the lieutenant in front of the shield ordered brusquely. He was kinda cute, in a bald, thick-browed, potato-head kind of way. Okay, maybe not ‘cute’ per say, but he did have a big gun and it wasn’t pointed at me. I like ‘not threatening me with violence’ in a person. The kid promptly ignored him and approached.

“I’m going through to see what’s beyond,” he announced to no one in particular.

“This is a restricted area, Captain Orzik’s command. You’ll have to leave immediately,”

“Uh huh, still going through.” He casually strolled past the petty officer, obviously expecting the shield to drop. It didn’t. Instead, he ploughed straight into it. A loud hissing zap filled the air: the kid squawked in surprise and bounced back, landing awkwardly beside the shield.

 

“No you’re not.” The kid just stared up at the guard, mouth open and tattooed eyebrow raised. I didn’t need to be Sith to know what was going on in his head. This had to be the first time a non-Sith refused him. It sounds terrible, but I kinda want to know how he takes it. What, it’ll be instructive on how fast I’ll have to run when I get this spark plug off my neck.

“Yes I am,” he insisted. Okay, so he ignored it. That’s good, I think. I mean, he’s not whipping out his lightsaber and lopping bits off people.

 

“We have orders to treat any breach as an attack. You need to take your slave and leave,” the lieutenant commanded, a snarl curling his words. Okay, that was my cue. I know the kid isn’t in any danger, but we were getting a free ride off them. Getting Ensign Brukarra court-martialled because he hacked up their marine wouldnt be the best way to thank the Dorne clan.

 

“Come on, why don’t we go find our cabin. After everything we’ve seen today, I could sure use some shut-eye. We can always explore the rest of the ship and come back later. It’s not like it’s going anywhere,” I coaxed. The kid glowered at the lieutenant for a long moment and then turned to look me right in the eyes.

 

You know, it wasn’t until then that I realised just how messed up everything is. Three months ago, I’d been a treasure hunter about to go on the most dangerous hunt yet. Now, I was headed deep into the heart of the darkest part of the galaxy, without my gear, my freedom and half dead, in service to a Sith years off figuring how to shave. With luck like this, I’m not sure I want to know where I’ll end up next season. Huh, why am I thinking about that? It’s not like there’s nothing going on outside my head. The kid broke his gaze.

 

“All right, let’s go find the cabins,” he agreed, quiet enough so that only I could hear him. Hey, I’d managed to talk a Sith down. Sure, he wasn’t old enough to shave yet, but it’s something. In no time, I’ll have him take the collar off, and then I’d be free. Slowly, the kid turned and walked to me. I draped an arm around his shoulder, to give emotional support in case he needed it, and started the other way.

 

“If we catch him up here again, I’ll toss you both in the brig.” What? Did he just... Really? I’d gotten the kid to go away! He couldn’t be content with doing his job, repulsing the kid: he just had to shoot at his pride. You know what: I’m so not responsible for what happens next. This is all on him. The kid stopped and brushed my arm off his shoulder. As soon as it was free, I scurried over to the relative cover of the bulkhead. It doesn’t take a genius to know that uppity Imperials plus irate Sith equals lots of dead people. I don’t want to be in the line of anything when it all goes to hell.

 

“Uh, Lieutenant, even if he is just pretending, do you think it’s the best idea to-,” one of the guardsmen, his resoundingly deep voice vibrating through the corridor, began.

“Stow it Corporal,” the lieutenant snapped, silencing the only other voice of reason in this corridor. The kid stormed back up to the lieutenant, his coat whirling around him like a supervillain’s cape.

 

“Right: enough of this. I am Sith, Imperial, and I command you with full Sith authority to get out of my way before I cut you in half,” Roan snarled, his voice sharper than I think I’ve ever heard it.

“Unlike you, kid, I don’t have to pretend to be Sith to have authority,” the lieutenant snarled, drawing his blaster, “now, get on your knees or I will-.”

 

I’m not exactly sure what happened next. One moment, the lieutenant was hefting his blaster at the kid, the next, sirens wailed as air whipped around my Lekku. Smoke billowed from the walls where the shield had touched it, the emitters exploded. It swept across the room and sucked out through the void where the viewport had been. The viewport shutters hissed into life, sealing the breach, and the skull-pounding sirens died away.

 

The kid stood where the shield had been, one hand stretched out in front of him. The other was a fist, and punched towards the sealed viewport. Then I realised I couldn’t see the lieutenant. The two troopers on either side dropped to the floor, weapons holstered.

 

“My lord,” one of the black-red armoured troopers answered, his helmet clacking loudly as he dropped to the durasteel floor, “you’re Sith.”

“Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?” Roan snarled, sulphurous eyes glaring at the kneeling guardsman.

“We were told you were just a noble scion pretending and that we’re to stop anyone trying to reach the bridge.” The Sith pulled a face only the really brave or irreverent would call a pout.

“I’m not pretending,” he grumbled, more to himself than anyone, “I want to speak to this captain of yours right now. Take me to him!” Oh boy: here we go…

 

 

 

The next one more or less follows from that story and is the most recently written, as seen from the prompts.

 

Prompt: Technology, Fitness, Dance

Title: Waiting in Hyperspace

Perspective: Mako, the Bounty Hunter’s Daughter

Word Count: 2336

Spoilers: Black Talon spoilers

 

 

 

Well, that was weird. Fifteen minutes ago, we’d been on the bridge, the Sith pissed over that jerk lieutenant while Zul explained Kilran’s job. The captain had been polite but dead set against helping us until then. He still was, but he relented when he heard how Kilran’s ordered every ship under his command to fire on the Black Talon if we don’t show up with the General. Now we were down in one of the hangers, waiting. I know why it’s important, especially to Braden… or it was, but I’ve always hated waiting.

 

I glanced around the hanger, seeing the bland metal walls, the stacked crates, the darkened viewports of the control room looming over the way back to the bridge and the shuttle over in the far corner. In little over an hour from now, we’d board that with a load of marines and go invade a republic battleship. Yeah, can’t see that going wrong anywhere. Okay, time to plan.

 

Okay, access holonet, search “Brentaal Star”: Whoa. There were a lot of hits. I quickly skimmed the links Brentaal IV, Hydian way trade route, Permelian trade route, Brentaal-Denon route, Commendor Run. Wow, this ship gets… I’m looking at the planet. I opened one of the links. Brentaal IV, or Brentaal for short, is a key planet of the Bormea sector and commercial powerhouse of the outer core worlds. That’s not what I’m after.

 

Okay smart@ss: access holonet; search “Brentaal Star, Republic battleship”. Skimming through the results, I checked the Senate Archive netpage for its brief description. Uh huh, so the RNS Brentaal Star (CR-12) is a Thranta class warship and the third named for the Brentaal system, the hundred and ninety-third system to join the Republic. All right. Access holonet: search “Thranta class cruiser specifications”. They flashed up. Okay, that’s not good.

 

Thranta cruisers have a crew of over three-hundred, can have up to two hundred extras and carry fourteen liberator Starfighters, three bombers and four assault shuttles. What’s worse is that the long-range comm. transceiver is boosted through the shield generators so signals aren’t interrupted when the shields are up. We’ll have to get in fast, or they’ll call in their backup. Okay, what kind of transceiver? If it’s a Sund Tech, I could slice in pretty quickly and rewrite their passwords. That’ll stop them broadcasting everything for a good hour or so. If not, it might take a bit longer.

 

“Access Holonet: Thranta class cruiser communications transceiver specifications.” Nothing relevant popped up. Huh, suppose it was too much to hope they published everything online. I could maybe slice into a military database and try there, but I’d need a lot better security than my implants provide for that.

 

I glanced over to the crate opposite me, where Zul tapped something into the haptic interface over her right gauntlet. Looking at her, I realised something: she was actually pretty short. I’m no Wookie but she was only a couple of centimetres taller than I am and that’s in power armour. It’s kind of odd: I’d assumed she was bigger just from her presence alone. She acted like someone bigger, moved the same way too.

 

“Recalibrating my missiles’ explosive yield, before you ask,” she explained without looking up, “If I drop the VoD shockwave and amp up the gas pressure, they’re less likely to frag whatever system’s behind them. They’re also a lot louder, which can be a powerful thing in enclosed areas. You got something to share?” she reasoned, not looking up as her gauntlet beeped.

 

“Uh, yeah, Thranta class schematics. Thought I’d see what we’re up against.” She tossed me her holocomm. “Let’s take a look.” Makes sense for her to plan with me: she’s the one with experience in boarding ships. All right: “access transceiver: link to holodevice frequency code uh” I flipped the device and read the frequency number off the base. The holocomm beeped. Okay, “access holocomm. device, display visuals from holonet tab-ref#4”. A miniature Thranta cruiser sparked to life over the device. Zul crossed the space between us and sat by me, perusing the holo-image.

 

“Alright, they have two hangers, here and here. If they think they can’t hold us off, they’ll evacuate the general through one of the shuttles. So if we hold one of the hangers by landing in it and establishing a beachhead, they’ll head to the other. If we’re going to intercept, we’ll need to get there before him. In combat, they’ll rush him to the crew quarters here.” Huh, why’d they do that?

 

“If he’s a general, shouldn’t he be leading the fight?” I asked. She tilted her head up to nod at me.

“General’s an army rank, the naval equivalent’s an admiral. He’d only get in the way if on the bridge, but I take your point. I’ve assumed his moniker’s his rank. Either way, to get to the shuttles, he’ll have to use the trams. That means we disable them, which we can do from…” she paused, running a finger trough the expanded image, “here.” She pointed at a large room, which my link described as forward engineering.

 

“What about a lifepod?” Zul smiled at me, a lopsided smirk that made me feel dumb. It was a valid question. There are a lot of lifepods: they could put him in one with a sensor baffler and fire them all into space. We wouldn’t detect which and he could sit there safely until the cavalry arrived.

“They’re too short range, and way too dangerous. A stray shot could pierce the pod and then the general’s just space debris. Also, if they have no remaining shuttles, they don’t have a way to safely get him back.” Okay, so maybe a lifepod isn’t the best way to go about it but sheesh, no need to act like a jerk over it. She leant in, tracing a gloved finger through the hologram and I droned her out. Instead, I looked out over the hanger, wondering what the others were doing. A tab opened, showing me Vette.

 

Vette, the kid’s uh: slave.., friend.., babysitter was in the ship’s medbay, getting her foot drained of gunk by a droid. Another was washing her other foot with a disinfectant. Yeah, I really didn’t want to see that. Close intranet tab-ref#2. She’s gotten healthier since our first meeting at Vaiken station, but she still looked a lot like a zombie, complete with dragging gore over the floor. Part of me feels bad about how I reacted, but there’s not much I can do about that. Past’s the past, can’t change it. You can only use it to inform the future. Braden used to tell me that.

 

I uh, I – I looked over the hanger again, this time watching the Sith. He stood, lightsaber drawn, a holodevice on the floor beside him. A life-size hologram of a woman hovered over the device: all stern and imposing, despite being in her infinities. She wore the red armour that looked vaguely familiar to the imperial marine armour and held a lightsaber in both hands. I listened in.

 

“Your opponent comes in for an overhead strike, as many will because of your height. How do you block it?” the armoured hologram demanded. The Kid snapped his lightsaber up, holding it over his head, the blade pointing down and to his right.

“Your right leg is out of position. Correct it,” she snarled. The kid shifted his back leg, turning it so it pointed the same way as his torso, “better. Now the strike won’t plough through you. How do you retaliate?” He twirled, blade whipping around close to his back, to hack through the space where his attacker would be.

“Too loose, you opponent will recover before you’ve struck: try again.” He took the defensive position again, and struck. This time, he jumped to the side, his blade flicking straight across.

 

“Better. Now, you face a Jedi, a filthy alien Zabrak. It has raised its saber overhead, pointing back, like this,” she held her saber overhead in both hands; the blade thirty degrees off vertical. “What is it using and how do you retaliate?” he sheathed his saber, tilting his head slightly before it shot up.

“She’s using Shien, fifth form, strong but lumbering, power strikes, fast defence with ripostes.”

“And?”

“Uh,” he paused, face crumpled before springing open, “a focus in redirecting blaster bolts.”

 

“Good, so how do you kill it?” it was a simple question, but colder than a night on Hoth.

“Evade her slower strikes, parry but don’t block her faster ones so she can’t swat my saber away. Then when I attack, from the flanks so she can’t use both arms, I get in as close as I can so she can’t put a lot of power in her swings,” he chirped, each word flowing with rehearsed ease.

“And to kill it?”

“Stabbing at close quarters, getting far enough out to slash her will let her swing at me,”

“Good, now show me how you would kill a Jedi using Shien,” she ordered, and then walked out of holoprojector’s range. He brought his lightsaber up, both hands on the hilt, left in front of his right. He brought his left leg forwards, setting his feet so the left one faced forwards and the right pointed to the side. He closed his eyes and lit his saber. The crimson blade bathed him in shadows as he began.

 

It started off slowly, moving his blade up into an overhead parry that followed the blade down same as before. This time though, he shuffled to the side and struck. His blade flashed out, a simple crisp movement that took it from vertical on his right side, to horizontal on his left. Pushing off his left foot, he brought his blade back across, this time aimed at the knees. His left hand flicked out, thrust palm forwards and his coat billowed out behind him.

 

“Keep both hands on your weapon! You aren’t strong enough to handle a blade one handed,” she called brusquely. He nodded, and returned his blade to its starting stance, two handed, as before. This time, he went straight for the kill, jerking forwards into an awkward lunging overhead slash and went for a sideways roll.

 

“Don’t roll! The moment your feet leave the ground you cannot control your actions,” the disembodied woman snapped. He staggered, pulling himself out of his roll at the last moment. Snapping his blade back, he brought it into a vertical block on his right as he repaired his footing. Pushing with his blade, he sent it running down the side, tapping a hole in the floor with the tip. He ducked, briefly dropping to a crouch before lunging. The crimson blade swept through his imaginary foe right to left, hip to shoulder, and hung there, slowly extinguishing into the hilt. The fight was over.

 

“Serviceable,” the woman remarked disinterestedly, “practice what you’ve learnt and we’ll repeat this again next week.” The unseen woman reappeared over the comm., pushing something on a console in front of her. The image dissolved, leaving only a hiss, the audio equivalent of static. Roan padded over to the comm., scooping it up in one fluid motion. Turning it over in his hands, he studied the device, eventually pressing a button and the static sound cut out. He slipped it into his pants pocket and then did something I hadn’t expected.

 

He glanced around the room, as if looking for someone. No, he wasn’t looking at floor level: he was after something. He found it, whatever it was, between the door and the control room: a security camera. Huh, wonder what he’s after.

Access transceiver: link to shipboard intranet. Okay, access security feed: view hanger three camera. Wow, I can see myself, staring up at me. Hey, what the-, the camera went dead. I glanced over, and saw a smirk blossom on his face. He did that: the little vandal.

 

He whipped out his lightsaber, outstretched and in one hand. It warbled and slightly shook in his hand. He paced in a wide circle, always keeping his blade pointed at the centre. He did a lap, then he leapt, faster than I’ve thought possible. Red flashed through the middle, hacking from high right to low left. Then he ducked, twirling under an imaginary bar. Crimson flashed over his body in case the bar fell. Finishing his twirl, he whipped his blade out at leg height. Before he even finished the swipe, he was moving. He threw himself into a forwards roll, saber sheathing so he didn’t score the floor. So much for can’t control things.

 

Still crouched from his roll, he spun, blade back out. Another attack, a backhand that swept through the centre. Turning the weapon, he surged forwards. The blade stabbed through the centre, curving to point at the sky. He followed it up, leaping into the air. Spinning the blade around him in an eight, like a Hutta swamp-skimmer’s propeller, he landed, bringing his blade down in a hacking slash. What was that about using it one-handed? His coat shook and rippled as if blown in a storm.

 

His left hand left the saber, punching the air in front of him. He held the pose, and I felt wind brush past my face. He leapt again, blade flashing out. The slash went upper left to lower right. Then he spun, as before, but this time he hopped up and roundhouse kicked the air. Landing, he sliced one last time, his blade hammering whatever was left of his imaginary foe. He stopped, blade pointed down, away from his body. Even in two hands, it shook slightly. Sucking in several deep breaths, he steadied himself and turned away from the fight. He visibly flinched when he spotted me watching. Slowly, he forced himself back into a normal posture, sheathed his saber and walked out of the hanger with way too much normalcy to be natural. Huh, that was… something.

 

 

 

Finally, I wrote the third of these stories halfway through last week, when I needed to relax. I'm unsure as to which prompt best fits it, since it's pretty much just combat. The ones I've used fit in name, if not in spirit. Quick note, it is combat, so it's fairly violent and one of the kills could be considered as brutal.

 

Prompt: Allies, First Day on the Job, Luminous Beings

Title: Taking the Hanger

Perspective: Roan, Kid Sith

Word Count: 2,378

Spoilers: minor mid Black Talon

Warning: contains violence, peril, bloodless gore and brief mention of a head exploding

 

 

 

The shuttle cabin was cramped with Vette, the blue Chiss lady bounty hunter, Mako, twelve imperial-not-slave soldiers and me in it. I could barely move and I was smaller than everyone else. Looking back, that was probably a good thing, since it bounced about, avoiding turbolasers. I listened in on the briefing, and tried not to think about how ill the jerking made me feel. We were using this shuttle to fly back, and I didn’t want it smelling of sick.

 

“’We’re coming in to the hanger nearest the crew quarters, where they’re most likely to keep the general during combat. Once in, we all secure the hanger as a beachhead, and then Mako and I are going to hit the security station and use it to locate the general. We’ll disable it so we aren’t dogged throughout the ship. Mako, that’s your job. Mine’s keeping you alive and then getting the general, in that order. Everyone else, guard this ship, if we lose it, we’re not leaving,” the blue mercenary lady ordered. The soldiers were quiet, but I think they got it. I’m not going all the way into a republic ship just to see the hanger though I want to see aliens, monsters and Jedi.

“I’m going in too.” She didn’t pause or glance down at me.

“Good: we’ll need you as insurance against anything tougher than the marines.” I got the feeling that was exactly what she’d intended. Maybe I will stay in the hanger then, just to thwart her. No, we delay getting the general, we die and then there’s no going to Kaas for anyone.

 

“Get ready, we’re about to breach the hanger,” the pilot called out from the control room, her gravelly voice tight with concentration. The shuttle hissed as we flew in, and then the cannons screamed into life. The shuttle jerked and spun as the pilot shot at stuff and then the door opened. I was the first out: I’m nearest to the door and I can bounce blaster bolts. I leapt out, and used the force to guide me down to the ground.

 

I wasn’t sure of what I’d see out there: the republic has a lot of aliens. I expected all manner of weird tentacle monsters or insect monsters or maybe even a Wookie! There wasn’t, just Humans and green Mirialans and h0rny Zabraks with holes in their hats. One of them had a gun so big it hung between his legs, but it wasn’t the same. Then they started shooting at me, and I didn’t have time not to care.

 

They shot at me and I bounced blaster fire away or wove around them and then I cut them into bits with my lightsaber and it was amazing! If I’d known it would be this much fun, I’d have listened to boring scar-face Kilran.

 

Ragate never told me how fun it is to beat them, dodging everything they throw at you and then strike. Until now, I never really got why we ventured outside the caldera, our bubble of destiny, but now I do. There wasn’t anyone left inside to beat!

 

I spun around, and saw the blue Chiss hunter lady and Mako advance, sticking near to the cargo crates. Their guns were out, held pointing up towards the ceiling. Vette was behind them, with uh what’s her name, pasty-faced creepy lieutenant lady’s pistol in one hand. The marines were out, half of them moving boxes around the ship while the other stood guard.

 

Another trio charged at me, blasters chattering. I ran, dodging their shots, using the power of the force to go faster than they could track. I went around the back of a cargo crate and when I came out the other side, they were aiming at Vette. Charging between them, I swept my blade through one and then the other, taking them roughly at the waist. The third whirled and levelled her rifle at me. I leapt, grabbing the top of her rifle with my free hand, and cut her head off. Flipping over the falling body, I landed, still holding the rifle. I dropped it: Sith don’t use lesser weapons.

 

Mako, Vette and the blue lady reached the corridor out of the hanger. The blue lady stopped by the lip and swung out, blasters training on crossed out in front of it, and then leapt back, arms dragging Vette and Mako with her. Blaster fire sizzled into it. Peeking around the corner, She raised her left arm and the boxy thing on her arm went F’Dum, F’Dum F’Dum. Three yellowy orbs shot out and the marines screamed. Wow… I want one.

 

A hatch opened to her left and three marines came running out. I saw it all happen really slowly. The blue lady moved out from behind her cover, pressing her targets so Mako and Vette could get into position but not seeing them. They levelled their blasters and she turned her head, seeing them too late. She whirled to spray them with fire, but she let up on the people she’d been shooting at. They looked up, saw her, Mako and Vette out of cover, and opened fire. Fire ripped through them from two sides. Vette and Mako went down as blaster bolts burnt through them. He blue chiss lady staggered as shots shattered her ceramic breastplate. She died too. No: not again!

 

Time sped up and I saw the blue lady move out from behind her cover, not seeing the marines who charged at her. What? Oh, I understand, it’s a force-sight-thingy! It was about to happen. Not if I stop it!

 

I pushed power down into my legs and leapt at the middle charger. He must’ve been focussed on the mercenary because he didn’t even turn his rifle on me or anything. Instead, I flew past, grabbed him by the helmet and used him as a pivot, kicking at the left marine as I swung around. Middle’s spiky head went around with my momentum and his neck went Krrk! Swinging around him, I stabbed my lightsaber straight through the right marine’s back. She let out a little gulping gasp and fell over.

 

The left one, the one I’d kicked, caught his fall and opened fire. He sprayed blaster bolts wildly, hitting his falling buddies. I landed, sweeping my saber through tight turns to catch the fire. I’ve trained in bouncing blaster fire and can do it for hour, maybe two, but those were against droids and turrets. They always aimed for my centre, because it’s the most likely to hit. This makes them easier to bounce. He didn’t. Shots came in from every angle, and I had to start moving to not get hit. This is bad. Ragate always made me do blast deflection standing still. I’ve never deflected while moving: my legs could get in the way. His blaster started clicking, the pack empty: finally.

 

Then a blasterbolt slapped him in the side of the head and it exploded like a slave’s head when you fire its explosive collar. Note to self, make sure Vette’s collar isn’t explosive. He fell over, exploded brain spattered plasteel armouring clattering to the floor. Glancing over, I saw Vette, pressed to the side of a big metal container, pointing her pistol at the fallen marine. I nodded, and she scampered over to me, head down in case anyone wanted to shoot at her. I glanced up and felt the ‘F’Dum’ rip through the air, and saw another marine fly.

 

Vette made it to my side, sliding down to crouch by the dead marines. , and then she started pouring over the corpses.

“Finally,” she breathed, pulling out one of the dead marine’s pistols. Hefting it in her left hand, she wheeled around, looking everywhere at once. There’s no one in the hanger but the shuttle marines and us.

 

“What are you doing?” I asked, watching her glance up at me.

“Finding a matching blaster, it feels weird only having one,” Okay. I’ve no idea why she’d want to use two pistols when there are rifles and the big clunky cannons everywhere, but okay. So long as she’s shooting the Republic, I don’t really care what she uses. Hang on, aren’t the slave caste not meant to use weapons at all? Maybe she’s in the wrong caste? An explosion rocked the corridor where Mako annd the blue hunter lady were. That’s not good.

 

I left Vette and ran over to Mako and the merc. Heh, Mako and the merc, it sounds like a story. Uh, anyway... there was a huge droid, easily three times as big as I am. It blocked the passage to the lift, firing on their cover. Even at a glance, I could see the blasts pound away at their cover, and they didn’t have anywhere else to go. It’d kill them if I didn’t do something.

 

“Hey!” I shouted at it, still charging, “why not face a real challenge, you not-yet-scrap-pile.” I leapt as the droid turned one of its cannons towards me, lightsaber twirling around me to catch its shot. It fired and I caught it on my blade, the force flowing through me.

 

I’m not sure what happened, but the next thing I knew, I was on my back sliding on the smooth durasteel floor. My blade was still in hand but my arms hurt, a lot. I know pain, I don’t cry out like the weak and slaves, I focus it, guide it and use it as a lure, to ensnare the force. I haven’t killed the droid: it’s still around. I sheathe my blade and flex, bringing my legs up so that I awkwardly backwards roll to my feet.

 

Casting out my net of pain, the force comes rushing in, raw and jagged. I use it, harness it and throw myself at the droid. It opens fire, and I turn in mid-air, blade exploding back into life. Then a rocket ploughs into its side and it falls over. I sailed right past the wreck, landing awkwardly in the middle of several red marines. Aww.

 

They whirled, training pistols and rifles on me. They opened fire. Blocking traps me in their killing field. I had to leave, right now. I threw myself to the side, rolling behind one of them. He turned as I rolled, but he wasn’t fast enough to shoot me before I was behind him. Rising, I swept my arm back, I smashing him with the force. He went flying into two of his allies on the far side of the room. Now the four were in an arc: I can do arcs. I leapt at the closest two, still untangling each other from their formerly flying friend. They got free just in time for me to land and sweep my saber through them. They all fell down, leaving me with the last one, a Mirialan woman in an open-face helmet that looked too big for her. It had chin straps and was dome-ey and looked like the swoop biker’s helmet.

 

She stared at me, brown eyes huge. She held a pistol in two hands, but it was shaking. She wasn’t red like all the others. Instead, her outline flickered a pale orangey-yellow. Huh, I thought everyone had been red when I came in. Does that mean she’s not a foe? No-one ever told me what the colours mean, just that red is an enemy, blue isn’t and that enemies should be dead.

 

“Drop it!” someone barked behind me. I glanced back and saw the blue lady step over the dead droid’s leg, both pistols aimed at the Mirialan. Something clattered behind me, and I saw it was the pistol. Huh, oh I’d turned my back on an armed opponent, oops.

 

The bounty hunter demanded she tell us how to get to the security station. Apparently, it was up two floors one room over. I relaxed the barriers that kept my sight normal and looked up. I could see several people, all red or orangey-red, a blue and a shining red that I didn’t recognise. It felt familiar though, like how initiates feel before they learn how to draw in and master the force. Was there was a force adept aboard? Realisation bubbled up and brought giggles. Uh, sithy giggles, Sithlles. We weren’t in the empire: it was a Jedi!

 

“Uh, you in there?” someone asked, looming in front of me. I pulled my gaze back to the here. Vette stood in front of me, her dark blue outline thick with power. I raised the barriers and she looked gaunt and half-dead again.

“There’s a Jedi on board,” I told her, a grin twisting my face. She looked at me, and I couldn’t read her face. It was scared and relieved and worried and hopeful all at once. Glancing around, I saw the Mirialan sitting on one of the bumpy wall supports, crying into her hands. Mako sat beside her, one arm around her shoulders, glaring at the blue lady. Did I just miss something?

 

“Uh, Zul ran through our options. Hanali’s surrendered to us-, uh, she’s the Mirialan you caught. Either we leave her behind, where she could still hurt our chances of getting in and out before they know what’s going on, or we murder her.” Vette explained, spitting out the second choice. How did she know what I-, she must’ve seen my face and figured out what I wondered. Oh, I get it… most of it. Don’t know what Mako’s problem is, but I know how to solve it.

 

I compelled the force to assist as I ran back and told one of the marines, a big man with a stubby little rifle. Then I ran back, him following way behind: imperials are slow when they can’t use the force. I got back just in time to see the lift open. We all got in, except for the Mirialan and the now caught up trooper. They went back to the shuttle. The doors shut, and the turbolift whizzed us away to the transport deck. There, now everyone’s happy and I get to fight a Jedi. I wonder if it’ll be an alien, like with tentacles, spikes, multiple eyes and stuff.

 

 

 

Wow, in total 6018 words (don't worry that's lower than DSM's A-77 aftermath story, and that was all one piece)

Edited May 7, 2015 by Feldraeth

[Bultitudes_Loke]

Hello all It's been a while, but here's another offering. No specific prompts inspired this, but as you saw the end of Arkurul's (my JK) journey in my first post I thought I'd take a look at part of the other side of the story.

 

Prompts: None in particular, but Description and perhaps First Day on the Job

Title: Steady Pay

Characters: Sab'thaan, BH; Ahenobarb (SW)

Word Count: 1400 or so

Spoilers: Bounty Hunter and Sith Warrior titles and storyline achievements (but fairly minor)

 

 

I hate having to deal with a Sith. It’s their arrogance, know what I mean? I mean, they make my skin crawl, most of the time, because of all that ‘eldritch powers beyond the ken of man’ junk. But their arrogance is always unfailingly staggering. This one is no exception. I watch him carefully, letting the targeting systems of my eyes build me an optimum solution as the biological part of me looks at the man.

 

He’s big – my height, I guess, and I’m what you’d call big – and pale, like he’s just crawled out of some stygian cavern. Or just washed up dead on a shore, maybe. He wears bone-white armour, unusual for one of his kind; enviro-sealed plate by the look of it. If it weren’t for his crimson robes, the only colour on him would be the smouldering coals of his eyes and the tattoos on his lips and throat – angular slashes the colour of old blood.

 

It’s basic threat colouring. Dumb beasts out in the jungles do the same thing, but I’m impressed, despite myself. A lesser man might even be intimidated by the stark contrast he presents.

 

My bodysuit creaks softly as I reach out and pick up the battered metal mug that, besides a datapad, is the only adornment on the equally-battered table that serves as my desk. I raise the mug, sip, savour the jarring metallic note that the tumbler adds to the dense sweetness of the ne’tra gal. The Sith’s jaw clenches, in frustration I suspect. He’s not broken my gaze yet, though. He rises slightly in my estimations.

 

Baiting the client is far from professional, but I can’t bring myself to care, this early in the day. The rain, that ever-present whisper, grates on my senses for some reason. I dislike Dromund Kaas almost as much as I dislike the Sith, but you don’t get into this business to be picky, you get into it to earn a paycheck and Kaas is where the most consistent, if not the fattest, can be found.

 

I drain the dregs of the black ale, and set the mug down again with a precise click. My eyes whir as the targeting systems disengage. I have what I need. His armour is thick, but it’s not beskar, and it has weaknesses. I now have pre-determined targeting solutions. Just in case. Good to know. I smile slightly, and break the silence.

 

‘Me'copaani, dar’jetii?’

 

The Sith’s eyebrows raise in surprise. Blame my accent. No-one expects a guy with this many scars and cybernetics, and this kind of battered beskar’gam to enunciate like an Imperial officer. Mandalorian sounds more elegant and menacing the way I speak it – like a vibroknife, the custom kind that you only see as it rips back out of you. It’s all karking this and poodoo that with most hired guns; a mongrel blend of Huttese, Basic, and the stars only know what else. Blame my upbringing, I suppose.

 

'I have bloodwork for you, Son of Mandalore,' he says. His voice is achingly deep, resonant with a chilling anger that seems to smoulder in every syllable. 'There is a Jedi I wish to destroy, a Master of that order. He is my first and oldest foe. For years his every action has to spite and thwart me, he has ever stolen accolades rightfully mine, and he has the blind luck to be my brother. We were once aspirants to the Jedi order together, after they stole us from our parents and raised him onto a pedestal that should have been mine!' His armoured gauntlets creak as his hands ball into fists, the red depths of his eyes burning ever more fiercely.

'I have sworn to wreak a terrible vengeance against all his works, and all his chattels. You are Sab’thaan the Unmasked, Mandalorian victor of the Great Hunt. No other bounty hunter is suitable to stand at my side in this great undertaking. You will strike my first blow against his false legend, and you will plant a token so that he knows it has been struck at my command!'

 

I’m impressed despite myself. So impressed that I’m almost speechless. I scratch at the ragged scars on my scalp; gently flick at the tips of my bleached-white Mohawk. It’s a habit, don’t ask me why.

 

‘So let me get this straight, my lord,’ sarcasm drips from the title. ‘You want me to infiltrate yaim ku'nr jetiib, Tython itself, and assassinate a tahla'ada Jedi Master? I don’t care how much you want to pay me, that’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard.’

 

The crimson robes of the Sith whisper his displeasure as he steeples his pallid fingers, crimson eyes fixed unblinkingly on mine. His pallid lips crease in what could only generously be called a smile.

 

‘No, not the Master, Mandalorian. His padawan – a twi’lek.’ His voice is a low rasp, emotionless and level suddenly. ‘Surely one member of a slave race doesn’t fill your heart with terror?’

 

I sneer, the expression twisted by scars and cybernetics alike. I hate Sith. I let one hand fall, casually and with the dull chime of beskar, to rest on my armoured thigh plating, next to my blaster.

 

‘Nothing fills my heart with terror, dar’jetii. What does concern me is how you expect a licensed and registered bounty hunter to make berth at Tython Orbital, especially a Mando’ad against whom the noble jetii would have sworn vengeance against many times over, if they indulged in such base emotions.’

 

The Sith’s not-smile becomes a grin, and he produces an insignia from inside his robe, like a conjurer performing an illusion.

 

‘The Twi’lek is not on Tython, bounty hunter. Your target is currently carrying out a mission on Tatooine. I'm sure you know it well - lawless and wild, the perfect place for tragic accidents to occur.’

 

His smile, and the small metal token, are far from the most intimidating thing I have ever seen - but the insignia on that token triggers my memory - blood and fire and horror and death, a black-robed whirlwind of destruction tearing through unarmed prisoners and their guards alike.

 

My cybernetics automatically flick to combat targeting in response to the sudden ‘fight or flight’ reaction that grips me. I shudder slightly, cancelling the inbuilt system-reactions and stopping the rush of adrenals and stims that are being dumped into my bloodstream. His teeth are filed to points. Sweat breaks out across my shaven scalp. Focus. His teeth are filed to points. I can smell the adrenals in my sweat – rich, spiced, somehow hot – and I hate this Sith even more for the way he has made me react – playing on the memories of my former life, making me feel like some damn slave.

 

‘In any case, nothing is impossible for an agent of the Emperor’s Wrath, Mandalorian. Name your price, and it shall be met and more. I am Darth Ahenobarb, and you will be my Hand.’

 

I pick up a datapad, pleased that my hand isn’t trembling from the stims. Open my standard contract, thumb the fee up by a few hundred thousand credits. Slide it across the bare metal to him. He glances at the sum, and nods, pressing that infernal token to the agreement in lieu of a signature. I see the screen flash in acknowledgement. That's that. In for a credit, in for a fortune as they say. No turning back now.

 

‘What’s the name of this Jedi Master, my lord Wrath? And what’s the name of my target?’

 

‘Your target is Ka’sher’an. Do not ask me if that includes a family name, I neither know or care for the petty intricacies of his mongrel tongue. You will find a full description in your datapad. I have transmitted the last-known location of the twi’lek to your pad, along with a holocom frequency on which you will inform me of your success.' He pauses, looks down at his clenched fist for a moment before fixing that burning gaze back on me.

 

'My brother…’ the word is a hiss of old hate, cherished and nurtured. ‘My brother is Arkurul.’

 

He stands, suddenly, like a statue coming to life, and is gone in a swirl of crimson robes.

 

I've got a bad feeling about this.

 

I lean back, fingers brushing reflexively over the grip of my blaster. There's a pr1ckle at the back of my neck, that insistent itch that says 'ambush'. I’d better find some backup…

 

Edited June 3, 2015 by Bultitudes_Loke

[Striges]

@Bultitudes_Loke: Such a contrast here between the peaceful return to Tython (in the earlier piece) and the Sithy anger and hatred crawling out of every word in this one. I liked Sab'thaan’s visceral reaction to the token (might want to check your edit, seems to be a leftover dialogue fragment out of place there). Your description of him and his thought process in the opening make me think of Allan Quatermain for some reason, not physical, obviously, perhaps mostly a British Accent in Unusual Places sort of thing. An elegant menace. I am not putting this well.

 

@Feldraeth: There’s a lot of things here but the part I liked best was Mako’s observation of Roan and Ragate. You haven’t show their interaction before, and I liked this peek into it. Especially from a complete outsider. The constant correction and criticism. Always falling short. No doubt he was grateful for the lesson in the actual boarding but it also give insight into why Roan thinks the way he does.

[Striges]

Still spring. New prompt.

 

Week of May 8, 2015

Over Your Head- Interesting stories happen when your character is least expecting it, and least prepared. Maybe they misread the situation. Maybe their information was incorrect or incomplete. Perhaps an enemy (or friend!) arranged the whole thing. Or maybe they stumbled into the villain's lair on accident. Maybe the villains stumbled into theirs! What do they do? How does your character handle being in over their head?

 

And, as ever,

 

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7489974post=2 and http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=7489991post=3 (we’re up to two full posts!). Many thanks to Alaurin for maintaining the prompt archive and story index here.

 

 

This week's featured NotLP:

The Sure Bet - Sometimes things just fall into place, and the goal is in easy reach just an action or two away. Sometimes there's a choice between long odds and a safe bet. Or sometimes a surefire proposition walks right up and make an offer. Write about your characters' experience with a sure bet. Did it turn out the way they expected?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Got an idea for a prompt? Send me a pm!

[frauzet]

Comments and replies:

 

@alaurin: Yeah, I guess Giz' menu doesn't make you happy if you're not carnivorous. But you're right, they didn't care too much about food for the rest of the trip.

 

Back to Where It All Began: Jadely has every reason to feel paranoid in there, I guess. It's probably good everyone feels more or less the same, so anyone noticing wouldn't think it out of the ordinary.

 

Simply Irresistible: Being sprayed without being asked in advance would be a sure bet to lose me as a customer, as I've had allergy problems with perfumes before. Jax having problems with the -- for him -- too strong smell is absolutely reasonable.

 

Girl Talk: I like Mako's reaction. From the companion conversations I get she doesn't like Gault at all.

 

@Striges: I had to google spam, but that is about what I had in mind when I wrote the story. I thought as a carnivore he'd not be very interested in any ration packs as they sure are even worse than some canned meat, and probably more expensive. He'd prefer steaks any time if there was someone else there to introduce them very briefly to a well heated pan. He just can't be bothered to do it himself very often. He's a very busy man, you see, always occupied with doing very important -- stuff -- and things. And thank you for the compliment, you made my day

 

@Feldraeth: Interesting questions. At this point Iolith has not. It just wasn't necessary. From her point of view everything went much better than planned. I am glad you liked it.

 

Uppity Imperials: I guess it would be easy to dismiss Roan at first glance. A deadly mistake. I like the way Vette tries to influence the kid. She wasn't doing too bad until the Lieutenant messed up.

 

Waiting in Hyperspace: The holonet search made me smile, nice detail. I like the interaction between Raon and Ragate and the fact he contacted her at all. And then the end, was he showing off for Mako? Seems it's never too early to start practicing...

 

Taking the Hanger: Nice description of Force abilities through the eyes of a child. It's always interesting to get a glimpse at how Roan thinks, like when he drops the rifle. It shows Sith aren't born but made.

 

@Bultitudes_Loke: The tension is almost palpable. I like the cybernetics reacting to the rest of the body thus maybe creating a vicious circle that's probably not always easy to break.

 

 

 

This short piece was sparked by last week's prompt. Obviously once again I didn't make it in time

 

Title: Opportunities

Prompt: Dance

Class: Smuggler (Gizalen), none (Iolith)

Words - ~750

Spoilers - none

Takes place on Nar Shaddaa several months before the start of the ingame events and after this story.

Contains sexual innuendo.

 

 

He had only wanted to help. The attempt had gone down the drain. Completely.

 

“What were you thinking?” One didn’t need to be an expert on knowing people to hear the reproach in her voice.

 

“After seeing you atop that table? Not much. Probably not enough blood left in my brain.”

 

Sidali still glowered at him. “At least that’s an honest answer.”

 

He tried one of his irresistible grins. “What can I say, I am an honest guy.” One look at her face told him he could ax the irresistible.

She was still crouching, trying to gather her things which had been thrown after them through the back door. The lone bulb above the door shed only a dim light that was lost a few feet into the back alley. Still Giz would have preferred had she donned her coat. The dancer’s outfit she was wearing left little to imagination all lighting conditions aside. And he was in no condition to aid her if anybody came to investigate who was disturbing the shadows. Nar Shaddaa’s streets apart from the neon signs were excluded from sightseeing tours with good reason.

His head throbbed, and he could feel his pulse in his swelling eye. The wobble in his knees convinced him to sit down — only for a little while. Kark! To lose his head over a woman like this. He wasn’t eighteen anymore. He slid down to a sitting position with his back against the wall. He hadn’t bothered to check the ground below. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Even he had some hygiene standards. “The guy touched you!”

 

Her glare made him wish the light was dimmer. “Kark, Giz! That is — was my job.”

 

“Yeah, I know. And the way you danced up there? I can’t really blame anybody for wanting to touch you. But your look screamed at me you didn’t like it.”

 

She rounded on him. “Nobody said I liked it. Why do you think I was running errands on Corellia when I was offered jobs like this that would have earned me much more. Do you think anyone looks at my face, at my body and thinks ‘Wow, she fulfills the qualifications to fly a starship’?” She blinked away tears of anger, and tossed something into his lap. “The guy touched me to give me this.”

 

He picked it up. It was a credit-chip. Despite the dimness, and his left eye being swollen shut by now, Giz recognized the value. His whistle echoed through the alley. They both winced at the sound. As if to make up for it he continued in a mere whisper. “That’s one hundred kriffin’ credits.” Incredulity made him stare at the money.

 

“Do you have any idea how many errands it took to earn that much?” She sighed. “No? I thought so.” With an angry snort she stood up. She walked past him stopping only briefly to bend down and take the chip out of his hand. “Thanks for ruining this opportunity.”

 

Word would spread. She wouldn’t be hired around here. He shouldn’t make a habit of trying to help people. Things turned out best when he helped himself. He snatched the edge of her coat as she passed by, and held onto it. “Please wait!”

 

She stopped not wanting to drop the coat when she felt the tug. “Let go, Giz!”

 

“Why don’t you work for me?”

 

Her voice rose in pitch. “No, I won’t work for you, Giz. We had fun on the flight here. I won’t deny that. But I don’t want to dance on your table any more than on the next guy’s. And I’d rather run errands again before I’d sell more of my body than that.”

 

He coughed. “That’s not what I am talking about. Yeah, you’re good in the sack.” He swallowed when he saw her darkening expression. “Although awesome would be more fitting,” he mumbled under his breath. The next cough made him wince. “Look, I got two healthy hands. I’ll get by, always did. But I’d sooner not let the damned droid fly the Shadow. And you said you’re qualified to fly a spaceship, didn’t you?”

 

The deep line that appeared between her eyes didn’t do much to conceal her beauty. “Are you calling me a liar? What are you talking about? Why would you need a pilot?”

 

He had her attention. “Call it a hunch.” The hand he pulled from beneath his coat was red with blood. “I might be indisposed for some days.”

 

 

[nervousheroA]

I've been reading this thread for the past few days (only about a fifth of the way through it all, though. geez...), and I saw I could use an older prompt. Awesome. Therefore, I'm using Allies. This is my Sith Warrior, Giselle, and crew. Obvious spoilers are obvious, and let me know what you guys think!

Feels so weird finally putting this stuff out there for the first time... Let me know if I need to improve the formatting. I copied the text from a Word document and had to add in extra line spaces between each line. Is there an easy way?

 

Doubts (2642 words. quite a read)

 

 

It was a little after 10 pm on Dromund Kaas, the clouds turning a pure black above the tall, dark buildings. The rain pounded on the glass windows of the skyrise apartment, plastering the thud of the rain throughout the halls. In the main room, Lieutenant Pierce was duking it out against Vette and Jaesa in a tough round of Pazaak.

 

“I don’t understand why I keep losing,” he said.

 

“Because you don’t think,” explained Vette, laying down three cards. “You can’t play hand-by-hand. You have to plan many turns into the future. Or you just cheat and use the Force like Jaesa.”

 

“I don’t cheat!” the Sith apprentice exclaimed. “If I did, I would’ve ended the game half an hour ago…”

 

“Uh-huh, sure.”

 

Reaching into his own hand, the soldier played a somewhat-passable counter to Vette’s play.

 

“Speaking of the Force, has anyone noticed Giselle acting…odd…lately?”

 

“What makes you say that?” asked Jaesa, playing down another pair of cards. Vette silently scowled at the card pile.

 

“Hard to say.” He shrugged. “It just feels like she’s been…off-center since the Revanites.”

 

“Can you blame her?” was Vette’s reply, eventually deciding on a move. “She’s had a lot happening to her all at once.”

 

“I’m not saying it’s unexpected, but I can’t shake the feeling she’s become…unstable.”

 

“In what way?”

 

He sighed, laying down another card.

 

“I don’t know. She’s always been a bit of a rough wild card, nearly impossible to read…”

 

“Perhaps if you spent less time resisting simple instructions and more time understanding the meaning behind them, you might get a gist of what it is she seeks.”

 

The Lieutenant buried his face in his free hand upon hearing Quinn’s voice behind him.

 

“Damn you, Captain Protocol.”

 

He didn’t seem fazed by the insult.

 

“It would probably be wise,” he explained, “to NOT gossip about a Sith lord while inside her own home.”

 

“Maybe you could help us, then,” Vette suggested. “Because he DOES have a point, sort of.”

 

“I will not participate in gossiping about my own wife,” he insisted. “Besides, if it were any of your business, she would’ve said something to you by now.”

 

“Right, I’m sure she tells you everything, doesn’t she?” jabbed Pierce. “Right under the covers, I’m sure she’s an open book, isn’t she? You know, the rest of us don’t have that kind of privilege.”

 

That last comment found its mark.

 

“Privilege?” Quinn scoffed. “My ‘privilege’ is to work alongside her. Anything else she has given me is by her accord, not mine. None of you are in any place to judge that.”

 

“********,” he replied, rising to his feet. “You love the position you have now, don’t you? You revel in the knowledge you have direct and exclusive access to the most prominent Sith in the damn galaxy, and you’d love nothing more than to rub it in our faces, don’t you?”

 

“Pierce!”

 

Everyone in the room suddenly froze. Exiting the sparring hall, Giselle and Broonmark stood at the doorway, watching the situation escalate. Pointing at the two women and Pierce, her eyes were a kind of liquid fire.

 

“You three. In my chambers. Now.”

 

“My lord…” Pierce started.

 

“NOW.”

 

Jarred into silence, the three set their cards down and walked past her towards the bedrooms. Jaesa silently jabbed Pierce in the shoulder angrily.

 

“Quinn, I want you to take Broonmark out into the jungle for an hour. He says he needs the exercise.”

 

“Of course, my lord.”

 

“We’ll talk later, in private.”

 

“Yes, my lord.”

 

Running a hand through her auburn hair, she sighed angrily, making her way to her room. Jaesa was sitting on the bed, Vette was in a chair, and Pierce was left standing. Closing the door behind her, the Sith faced her crew, her eyes settling into a kind of cold flame, dripping into her words.

 

“I will not tolerate gossip,” she began. “Especially about me, in my own home.”

 

“My lord,” Pierce replied. “It’s on me. I brought it up.”

 

She narrowed her gaze.

 

“Good. You decided to be honest with me. I appreciate that. Now, what exactly were you saying about me?”

 

He swallowed hard, suddenly realizing his predicament. Normally, he wouldn’t be so afraid to speak his mind about his authority, but something about Giselle always set him on edge.

 

“I just can’t help but feel you’re getting soft,” he replied. “Ever since the Revanites, I haven’t seen that fire we’ve come to respect. I have a right to be concerned.”

 

“You doubt my determination?” She mused over his statement for a while. She got an idea. “Ok, then. Tell you what. You want to test me? Let’s do it in the way we both feel at home. Combat.”

 

“What?” Vette looked at her incredulously.

 

“Unarmed, of course,” she explained. “Best way to test a spirit is send it to war. If you refuse, then you humiliate yourself, and your concerns, for the next several weeks. Your decision.”

 

“I’ve been itching for some action,” he replied. “I’m in.”

 

“Meet me in the sparring hall. No armor, no shoes, no weapons.”

 

 

 

After about ten minutes, Pierce had put on a simple white sparring shirt and some pants, nothing too fancy. Giselle had opted for her natural war-attire, sporting her extremely low-cut, deep red top that hugged her curves in a way he had refused to forget since he met her. It was a little odd for him to not be wearing any kind of shoes, but he shrugged off the sensation. He needed to focus.

 

They circled each other around their starting positions in the sparring hall, fists raised defensively, silently reading one another. The Wrath was notorious for her dexterity, bending her body in ways only the Force could allow, turning her opponent into a springboard. Though, this could be offset by Pierce’s own bulk. His natural ability to take hits and dish them back brutally was not one to be ignored, either. She also had prominent acrobatics, but she had assured him she would be avoiding the Force save for reflexes and other passive things. He accepted that. He’d fought his share of Jedi.

 

“First one grounded for ten seconds,” he explained.

 

“Agreed.”

 

Jaesa started the countdown.

 

“3… 2… 1… Fight.”

 

For the first few moments, neither combatant blinked an eye, both deciding to start out defensive. Pierce was still trying to figure out a plan. Normally, she would make the first blow, it was her nature. But this was no ordinary match, either. She was proving her alpha status to the crew. Caution was probably her main plan. He was surprised, then, when she suddenly appeared in his face.

 

Lunging forward, she rushed him with a right hook, which was simple enough to dodge to the side. Digging in his heel, he swung a leg in her general direction, hoping to break her flow before it pulled him under. That’s the thing about her. If she keeps going long enough, you’re doomed.

 

His leg met only air, though, his target instinctively jumping back. Not willing to risk her starting another chain, he rushed her, hoping to drive a wedge early. She expertly deflected the central punch, knocking it to the far left. Not letting up, he kept going, dishing out somewhat slow, but powerful kicks and jabs, not giving her an inch to work with.

 

She didn’t stay on the ground for longer than a second, making small flips and spinning to bring her limbs to meet his blows. Each shot, despite being properly deflected, took a lot of energy from her. It took too much to block him continuously, and once she made a mistake while sending a punch the wrong way, exposing her middle, he punished her for it by sending a strong kick deep into her gut.

 

He felt his foot meet her flesh, and saw her fly a feet backwards, slamming onto the ground. Using the momentum of the fall, however, she turned it into a roll, ending her slide on her feet rather than her stomach. Unlike most people, she didn’t clutch her stomach from the blow, or even show any sign of pain besides a small grimace. There was a pause for a moment, letting her get to her feet, still reveling in the hit. Unfortunately, this meant he wasn’t paying attention, and she retaliated by leaping forward, twisting her body into a vicious kick. Unable to block in time, her foot connected with his chest, and he crumpled from the force of it.

 

It felt like his ribs were on fire. He couldn’t tell if they were broken, it was hard to say if she was holding herself back from doing any serious damage or not, but he got back on his feet quickly.

 

“You hesitated,” she noted, pressing her offensive with a leg sweep.

 

“Wanted to make sure I didn’t hurt you too badly,” he replied, jumping back from the sweep.

 

“Hesitation does not win wars, Lieutenant. I though you knew this by now?”

 

This time, the tables were turned. She kept up her offensive with kicks that rivaled his previous one. It took all he had to block them, absorbing the blows’ force into his large frame as she kept up the pace. After a rather nasty kick to the face, which he barely avoided, he realized what was going on.

 

Why isn’t she using her arms? She’s not even attempting to… Of course. She doesn’t have the reach. Pierce’s frame was just too large to attempt any kind of punching as an offensive technique. He’d just absorb it too easily. He, however, had much bigger arms. Digging his feet in, he deflected a spinning kick to the ground, and sent a fist into a mean uppercut.

 

He was intending to hit her stomach again. It would’ve made the most sense. Instead, it seemed she had bent low for another flip, so the blow went straight to her chin, launching her into an arch into the ground a few feet back. Not wasting a moment this time, he leapt towards her, rearing his elbow for a wrestler’s finishing move.

 

Despite her vision spinning a bit, she rolled to the side, barely missing the blow in time. Luckily for Pierce, he managed to retract his elbow before it collided with the floor, rolling back to his knees. However, he had landed too close to her, and the Sith wasted no time in lunging at him. However, he had expected the lunge, and merely back-handed her as she got near him.

 

That sent her back to the ground, now with her face stinging like mad. This time, though, she didn’t get up immediately. When he walked over to her, he started taunting.

 

“Done already?” He suddenly felt her grabbing at his ankles. Before he had time to react, she had pulled herself up to her feet, using his legs and now grabbing his torso. The sudden closeness stunned him for far too long. It had been the closest they had ever been to one another. It resembled the dreams he had when they first met, before he had realized who she had her eyes on.

 

“There’s always time for more~” He could swear she was nearly purring when she said that. He also realized rather slowly that she was playing him again, making him blink. Grabbing his chest, she flipped over his shoulders and to his back. Reaching behind her, she bent low and pulled his legs upwards and away from her. From there, physics took over, flinging him over her shoulders and slamming him into the ground in front of her. His weight only added to the impact, dazing him even more. Luckily, he gathered his senses quickly, and grabbed the cuffs of her legs in between his own, and twisted his legs into a roll. This tore her legs from under her, smashing her into the ground as well. He recovered first, sending his right foot into a violent kick towards the face. Instinctively, she flipped off of the ground, her face barely missing his toes as she righted herself on her feet. Running out of options, he charged forward, but she didn’t move. Instead, she waited, and then leapt into the air, into another spinning kick. This time, however, he saw it coming, but didn’t have the energy to change tactics.

 

It was almost like feeling it in slow-mo. Trying to stop his momentum, he was completely vulnerable to her counter-attack. Her right foot connected with his head, smashing it violently down and to the right. This was one of her recent trademarks, her foot guiding his face into the ground at just the right angle to smash the rest of his body as well. Sprawled on his back, she pressed her foot on his chest. He tried to roll out, but found his body refusing. He was out of energy.

 

“Ten!” Jaesa exclaimed after a bit of silence. “The match is over.”

 

He had been played from the start, he realized. Even those blows he connected were planned. She knew his initial strength could block out whatever offense she used, so she needed that expended so she could press. By letting him use his biggest blows early, he had over-extended himself, and he couldn’t counter her most obvious move. She had practically choreographed the fight from the beginning.

 

“Well played,” he said bitterly. “Well played indeed.”

 

“You fought well,” she noted, breathing just as hard as he was, but with much less sweat. “You truly are Black Ops material.”

 

“It’s not salt on the wounds…” he replied. “But it’s not a bottle of whiskey either.”

 

She shook her head, dropping her foot from his chest.

 

“What you still fail to realize, Pierce, is the woman you met on Taris is not the same Sith who just kicked your ***. She was reckless, naïve, and driven by a powerful drive of revenge. True, I had fire, but it was not the controlled kind. It was the kind of fire that eventually burns itself into oblivion after a while because it burns out of control. After Darth Baras, among other things…I realized my error. Now, I have a husband, a kid. I can no longer afford to be the same rash, and self-motivated Sith I was when I rescued you on Taris. I can NO longer afford to be manipulated.” She sighed tiredly, her whole posture sagging noticeably. “It’s true I’ve been conflicted over the past few weeks. I’ll admit, the Emperor and his Hand rattled me far more than they should have.”

 

She suddenly glared at him, the fire in her eyes reigniting.

 

“But that is exactly why I have been preparing. Did you fail to notice where I was going for long periods of time? I was training. With Imperius, with Jaesa, with Broonmark. I must prove my strength, my worth, or I can NOT be called Sith. I am not sitting idle, Pierce. I am climbing. I am rising. And when the time comes, I will prove my worth. So I will not have you doubting me. You will respect what I have become, or you will leave. Is that understood?”

 

He lay there for several seconds, absorbing her mini speech. After a while, his face split into a grin.

 

“There she is,” he exclaimed. “There’s the Sith I know.” He sighed. “And I’m sorry, all right? I don’t like incompetent or skittish leadership.”

 

“There should have been no reason to lose your faith, though I hope you have regained it.”

 

“Believe me, my lord, even if I don’t remember, every cell in my body will for the next week or so.” He rose slowly to a sitting position, wincing in heavy pain. “Now, why don’t we patch ourselves up? I’d rather not have to explain to Quinn why I nearly drop-kicked his wife.”

 

 

 

Author's Notes:

 

 

Giselle is my Sith Marauder, my first character to hit the lvl cap of 55 at the time and my main toon. She's got more going for her, story-wise, but this is a good start, I think. Rishi and Yavin IV were very important moments in her character development, for obvious reasons.

 

[Striges]

Welcome to the thread, nervousheroA! Formatting looks fine; for ease of copying into the forum I quit doing paragraph indents in my document and instead used a blank line to separate paragraphs. That way I didn’t have to go back and add the lines in later. Bolds and italics are other formatting challenges. Another poster (I think it was bright) had a clever way using Word’s search-and-replace function to automatically add the bracketed commands [ b ] or [ i ] but I can’t recall what it was. I end up making a copy of the document and doing the formatting outside the forum post box then verifying everything looks right in preview. Preview is also a great way to catch bizarre things the profanity filter censors, such as “pr!ck” in all contexts (including, say, "the *****ly feeling of goosebumps"--case in point).

 

So sorry for no commentary on the actual story--tomorrow!! Promise!

[Lunafox]

Welcome nervousheroA I want to say I really enjoyed your story. I liked seeing the companions interacting, and it was quite believable the way you positioned them. I enjoyed the bout and was quite happy to see SW triumph. You do a great Pierce. I also enjoyed Quinn. Need more of him in the future! Great stuff, hope to see more.

 

Also, I've been reading and enjoying the stories, been sort of lurker mode, but I'm still here and still enjoying things very much. I have some more to catch up on still too.

Edited May 12, 2015 by Lunafox

[nervousheroA]

Welcome nervousheroA I want to way I really enjoyed your story. I liked seeing the companions interacting, and it was quite believable the way you positioned them. I enjoyed the bout and was quite happy to see SW triumph. You do a great Pierce. I also enjoyed Quinn. Need more of him in the future! Great stuff, hope to see more.

 

Also, I've been reading and enjoying the stories, been sort o lurker mode, but I'm still here and still enjoying things very much. I have some more to catch up on still too.

 

I'm flattered!

I was a bit worried about Pierce, tbh, because I normally run with Quinn (he is the husband and all), so I not overly familiar with his character, but I felt like combat suits him best.

[Lunafox]

I'm flattered!

I was a bit worried about Pierce, tbh, because I normally run with Quinn (he is the husband and all), so I not overly familiar with his character, but I felt like combat suits him best.

 

He was great. You're right, combat does suit him well. I run with Quinn too, he's my favorite and the hubby as well. Gosh, I read back my post to you and urgh...typos. Sorry about that, I was in a bit of a rush, but wanted to get it done, so I didn't forget.

[nervousheroA]

He was great. You're right, combat does suit him well. I run with Quinn too, he's my favorite and the hubby as well. Gosh, I read back my post to you and urgh...typos. Sorry about that, I was in a bit of a rush, but wanted to get it done, so I didn't forget.

 

Typing one word must yield three typos. This is a proportional law that applies to all typed documents. Garunteed.