#i remember being on Imperial Taris for the first time

[enola6]

An Interesting Mind

(Vector Hyllus/Reader)

Alderaan was not full of blitheness, nor was it serene.

It was elegant.

It was lush.

At the same time, however, it seemed hollow and lifeless to her. Under the guise of riches and luxury, Lady Thul was miserable. And though she was miserable and bored, she became entertained by an offworlder. Having captivated the attention of a Coruscanti journalist assigned to the task of covering politics off-world. And though she had once believed Coruscant to be the epitome of corruption and grief, she was certainly proven wrong by the Alderaanians—at least by the Thuls.

They were a people paranoid of their enemies. Even Urtel Moren, Lady Thul’s usually stoic bodyguard, illuminated an aura of fear when Jedi and politics were mentioned. The journalist followed him outside, notepad in hand.

"Miss (y/n)," he turned around while being followed in the palace gardens. "May I assist you in anything?"

The Coruscanti took note of the naturalness of Alderaan. Hills that never seemed to stop growing, rills that held water that would never stop flowing. A sky so clear you could see the stars at night and the shapes of clouds during the day...

It was everything Coruscant was not, and yet she yearned for her home.

"I have finished my report on House Thul." She stated, standing straight as if the Sith intimidated her. He waited for her to continue, confused as to why she was speaking to him. Being from offworld, she was only permitted to speak to her host family, not to anyone else, in fear of slander regarding the imperials on Alderaan.

"So you will be leaving us soon?" He inquired.

"No," Her answer startled him, yet he was not surprised. "I wish to explore this planet’s wildlife. Remember that man who visited the house when I first arrived? His eyes the colour of cinders, and he spoke using the word ‘WE’ instead of ‘I’".

"Yes, I remember the Joiner."

She found his tone welcoming and stepped closer to him, showing him the notes she had taken in her notebook. Scribbles as well as random words observed by the journalist graced her singular page dedicated to the man. She was quite embarrassed, to say the least, but the man and his talk of killiks intrigued her.

"I wish to research his condition... I want to venture onto Killik grounds."

“Lady Thul will not permit such an endeavor from someone she is hosting. Your safety will be at risk, Miss (y/n).”

“I know, my Lord. That is the beauty of it.” Thrantas flew above them, creating a gust of wind to close the pages of her book. She placed her book on the latch of her belt where it had always hung, sometimes hitting her legs. “On Coruscant I was given menial work, nothing of importance and seldomly allowed to investigate topics off-world. Now that I have the chance to investigate this… anomaly…”

He sensed her curiosity and recognized it as something dangerous. Journalists have the power to spread news of the war, they also hold the power to change it.

“If you do not offer me directions to their hives, then I will tell the lady of the house about your reports.”

She knew it was wrong, and her heart sank while she spoke to the sith. The enormous derelict camps on Taris reminded her of the jedi. She remembered a child, cradled in his mother’s arms, slowly transform into a rakghoul. She remembered returning to the camp, and her droid detected no human. There was the Barsen'thor, in the capital and when she begged she did not investigate.

Taris was no longer the planet of great civilization , and she blamed the jedi and sith and their stupid war.She however, also knew about his mission. That child was born with knowledge of sith legends , something the bodyguard was ordered to retrieve by the emperor .

“Do not fool me.”

His body softened and the clench he held in his fists was loosened. The redness of his robes created a soft breeze upon her skin as he turned around and began walking down the concrete , white path. From his steps, she thought she saw his footsteps illuminate red, but then again she shook her head and it was gone.

“Tomorrow morning before the sun rises , you will meet me here.” He turned his head around and spoke to her through telepathy, a skill she hated from the sith. “You will bring the coordinates but if you are lying then I will find you and strike you down. Don’t think Republic-ridden Coruscant will save you.”

Bright stars in the sky kept the curious journalist awake as she leaned on the pillows on her temporary bed. A bed she would know no longer.

It was bright and early, too early for (y/n) to comprehend her thoughts in the cold breeze of the mountains. Stupidly , She had not dressed for the cold, believing the weather to be warm and soothing, the perfect temperature for an adventure . A cold nip bit her cheeks , making her cheeks rosy and puffy. Ice stuck to her boots and she almost sprained her ankle on a rock which stood in her way. Urtel Moren took large strides , it was hard for (y/n) to keep up.

“My Lord” She called out while trying to keep his pace “my Lord!”

“Slow down, my Lord!”

He stopped in his tracks and didn’t bother turning , for he sensed her struggle behind him and let her fall on her face.

“There is no need.” He spoke calmly .

“This is … “

“Yes, miss (y/n), this is Killik territory . Feared by many , except the simple.”

She noticed his eyes darken.

Darken as they would around jedi.

Darken as they would around enemies of House Thul.

It was all too soon, he reached for his lightsaber and all she saw was the gleam of red haunt her vision with its overpowering force. Thoughtlessly, she instinctively stepped back, retreating from the looming danger of the sith. In her haste, she stumbled and fell into a hole, a refuge of desperation. Her heart raced as she landed, and her back collided with a jagged rock. Pain surged through her body, and the impact was enough to force her into unconsciousness. Once again , she hit a rock , forcing her to become unconscious as she heard the eerie sound of the kiliks. The world around her grew distant as darkness enveloped her, leaving her fate uncertain in the face of the menacing threat.

Her senses slowly abandoned her,as she was no longer aware of the looming threat of the red lightsaber or the haunting figure who wielded it. Instead, her unconscious form lay still in the darkness of the hole…

The killiks' delicate antennae brushed against her motionless body, as they communicated silently with one another in their distinct language . In their intricate and collective way, they assessed the intruder, unaware of her purpose . The unconscious woman remained at the mercy of these enigmatic creatures, her fate uncertain as they probed and examined her in the cold, unforgiving darkness.

They gently lifted her from the cold, rocky ground, their coordinated efforts carrying her with surprising care and precision. In their collective intelligence, they recognized her as something of interest, a puzzle they wished to solve.

Their joiner would know more about the strange woman.

Slowly and silently, they made their way through the intricate tunnels, guided by an unseen force—their hive mind working together to transport their newfound discovery. As they navigated the labyrinthine passages, (y/n) ‘s unconscious form was brought closer to their destination.

Finally, they arrived at the nest where Vector Hyllus, the joiner, awaited. He was standing, surrounded by a soft, bioluminescent glow emanating from the Kilik nests. The Kiliks approached, their intricate chittering signaling their discovery to the human. He understood them and studied the unknown woman with interest.

A Killik stepped forward and handed Vector her belt. The belt seemed small in the insectoid creature's grasp, but the creature recognized it as useful and important.

With a mixture of curiosity and gratitude, he unzipped the pouch attached to the belt carefully and found the journal inside. The journal was filled with meticulous research notes and observations about Joiners and the enigmatic Kilik species. Vector's own history as a Joiner, someone bonded with the Kiliks, made this discovery even more intriguing.

“(y/n) (l/n)...” he whispered as he traced his finger over the title page of the journal.

He looked upon her once more and came to the realization that she was a woman he recognized from house Thul. He remembered her pheromones of curiosity and the way her eyes never left him.

As he flipped through the pages, his eyes widened with understanding and interest. (y/n) had dedicated significant time and effort to studying the connection between Joiners and Kiliks. Her research could hold valuable insights into the intricate relationship between the two and potentially reveal new aspects of their unique bond.

“Take her to a private area. She means no harm, just curiosity.”

In the darkness of his own private room, Vector’s black eyes examined the journal with such delicate ease, afraid to damage any pages from the thoughtfully crafted journal. As he examined the woman's journal and the intricate research she had compiled, his senses picked up on an unusual scent, a subtle and intoxicating fragrance that was carried in the air.

These were not ordinary scents, but rather pheromones, biological signals that held a profound and instinctual significance to the Kilik species. Pheromones were a powerful form of communication and connection for the insectoid creatures, and they conveyed a range of emotions and intentions.

Vector's unique bond with the Kiliks heightened his awareness of these chemical signals. As he inhaled the subtle, alluring scent emanating from the unconscious woman, a surge of instinctual emotions and thoughts flowed through him. He was aware that this was not just an ordinary human response, but a deep and primal connection to the Kilik hive mind, intensified by the woman's presence.

In that moment, a complex and unconventional bond began to form in Vector's mind, a connection that went beyond mere curiosity. He recognized the woman's pheromones as an invitation, an offer of unity with the Kiliks in a way that was both intriguing and unsettling. However, Vector was still a diplomatic and open-minded individual. A part of him was still human.

With these thoughts in mind, Vector Hyllus closed the journal, his mind filled with a mixture of fascination and uncertainty. The discovery of the woman's research and the presence of her pheromones had opened a new and uncharted chapter in the complex relationship between Joiners, Kiliks, and (y/n).

When she awoke some time later, her hair amess and out of the many braids she had twisted them in. She reached for her belt, she had packed a silver blade before she had ventured , not trusting the sith in his full capacity. However, when she reached down she felt nothing but empty belt loops that held no leather, and no notebook.

(y/n’s) senses slowly returned, and she found herself in the presence of Vector Hyllus and the Killiks. Confusion clouded her thoughts as she attempted to make sense of the situation. It was what she wanted , and for the first time she wished to be back at her office on Coruscant.

That was when the Joiner entered the room, causing (y/n) to turn around.

She said nothing as she made eye contact with the joiner. Her gaze shifted, and she suddenly noticed something unusual. His striking, pitch-black eyes met hers, and the sight sent a shock of surprise through her.

“You’re…” she began to stutter.

“We are Vector Hyllus ,” the joiner began to speak “Dawn Herald of the Oroboro nest. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss (y/n).”

“How do you know my name?” (y/n) moved hair from her eyes, looking fully at the man before her.

“We examined your journal. Just a precaution to see if you could be trusted.” His voice was deep and soothing , but one could hear the eusocialness radiate from his voice. (Y/N) didn’t have time to think of accents or tone. Instead, she jolted back when killiks entered the room with their menacing height and fangs.

“What frightens you?” he integrated.

“I cannot speak,” the woman began to compose, “For I am fearful of the creatures that stand in the shadows behind you.”

And though she was tired , (y/n) managed to stand and point at what was behind Vector with her ring catching his eye. It shined in the minimal light that was present in the cave. The only light seemed to be the gleaming light that radiated from the unfriendly aura of the killiks.

“These are the killiks, but you seem to be already knowledgeable about their unique anatomy and character. We have lived with them, worked with them and became them. So , Miss (y/n), what do you wish from us?”

Knowledge , research , the permission to record the hive. She would have answered that only hours ago .

“ forgive me, sir,” she began to speak “But I admit I am frightened by the eyes of black that you proudly bear. You have read my journal and know what I know…” she took a recorder from her jacket and pressed the bright red button on the top of the lip , “so tell me what the world does not for your kind is so interesting that I yearn to enlighten the world about your condition.”

They sat down and he began to speak.

For days she slept on the bed kindly offered by Mister Vector Hyllus and wrote her report, refusing to return to Coruscant without it.

But another thing made her stay. Sometimes, she would peek behind the tall walls of the cave and stare at him with complete fascination.

He would look back.

And she would blush.

Vector observed the blushing, skittish woman with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue. Her dedication to understanding the Kiliks and her unyielding determination to learn more about their bond fascinates him. He admired her. Her courage , her intellect and her beauty.

He one day caught her packing her bag. She had discussed with him the night before on her departure , how she would leave him and never see him again. That is what he feared.

“(y/n)” He called to her.

“Vector!” She loosened her shoulders and moved some hair from her face. “I haven't seen you all day. Where have you been?” she stepped closer to him, her pheromones becoming more and more present , almost intoxicating him with her unknowing spell. In the midst of the cave, a flower had bloomed from its hidden petals and became the only jewel in the room.

“(y/n) there is something we must discuss with you. We do not want you to leave.”

“Vector … I do not understand”.

“We have felt something since you’ve arrived . A sweet sensation that does not leave. It is strange we have never felt such…”

“Mister Hyllus,” She noticed his red cheeks in the darkness of the cave. “I believe you are trying to say that you like me… romantically .” she then thought of ways to convey her message to his hive mind , “in the way mates do.”

He looked down almost shamefully . No, that was the wrong word, for the feeling he felt held no shame.

“We believe so , (y/n)”

“Well , Vector,” she let her bag drop and walked closer to him. She twiddled her fingers and tried looking anywhere but him. The flustered state that they both shared seemed to be oh so contagious. “I don’t want to leave either.”

And that was her way of letting him know that she had also grown feelings for him.

“Leave the hive, just for a moment.” She whispered into his ear. The black of his eyes disappeared and a human was in front of her. A man.

“Let us enjoy ourselves…”

(y/n) did not leave for Coruscant that night.

[darth-bagel]

Mirage Raverie/ The Padawan (Taris)

[allronix]

Carth and Force Sensitivity (crossposted from Reddit r/kotor)

This is for @k-she-rambles:

Okay, so while we're shooting the bantha crap over on KOTOR fan theories, u/134340Goat mentioned my all time favorite "Have you been chewing spice?!" fan theory when it comes to KOTOR: Is Carth Force Sensitive?

So this one starts with a story. I mentioned my brother in law, who is pretty much Keeper of the Jedi Archives. Seriously, he's an English teacher and my sister is a librarian. They met at a sci fi convention and their first date was Phantom Menace. We're taking not just geeks, but geeks who can throw the damn bookshelf at you. Brother in law bought KOTOR on the day it launched and turned it into a week long binge watch at his house. And because brother in law is that kind of geek, he's translating the characters into the West End D6 system. I'm watching him do a playthrough, and he's got Canderous and Zaalbar at Ajunta Pal's tomb.

Allronix: Huh. That's odd. Why aren't commenting on anything when Ajunta is speaking?

Bro in law: Oh. They can't even see Ajunta. You have to be Force Sensitive to see a Force Ghost The stronger your Sensitivity, the better you can see it.

Allronix: Really? Then how come Carth can see it?

Bro in law (gets the "holy shit, I gotta confirm this" look): Really?! He just sees something out the corner of his eye or something?

Allronix: No, he sees Ajunta just fine. Understands what the dude's saying too.

Bro in law instantly rolls back to his last save, swaps Zaalbar for Carth, and sees the bit in question.

Bro in law: Oh. Dear. (Goes over to make some quick scribbles on Carth's character sheet)

Okay, so maybe that was a lore fail. I didn't really think about it too much until I hit that False Level Up glitch and ran around with Carth and Mission as Sentinels. Now, while I couldn't really see Mission as a Sensitive, that little bit with my bro in law nagged at me. And became a "once you see it you can't unsee it." Apologies to TV Tropes, where some of these were my additions to the Wild Mass Guess entry on this topic.

Any one of these on its own is pretty easy to blow off. After all, man is career military, and knows All this Shit is Weird. I also like to think of Sensitivity as a spectrum and not a switch. If all life is connected by the Force, then all life would be Sensitive to some degree or another. It’s just a matter of to what degree. It’s only as the list gets longer and longer does the case start looking damning...

What are the odds of surviving that attack on the Endar Spire, getting to the escape pods, sharing the last escape pod with the mindwiped Sith Lord, piloting through the chaos, landing in what passes for the "good" part of town, remaining uninjured, pulling the badly injured mindwiped Sith Lord from the wreck, evading Sith detection while all this is going on, and just happening to find a dump of an apartment where the landlord's not asking questions? That is one amazing string of coincidences and good luck. Get that many in Star Wars, and it's definitely The Force sticking its nose in things.

Piloting the escape pod to land in the Upper City, piloting the Hawk through the Sith Blockade of Taris, the random Sith patrols, the escape from the Leviathan, and the fleet around Lehon along with the crash landing that left the ship easily repairable. Now, compare to Atton who we know to be an excellent pilot and drawing on The Force who still manages to crash the ship at least three times.

He's a scary good judge of character if you're interacting with other NPCs. If you watch him with other NPC characters, he's got a pretty good compass as to which characters are being helpful and which ones are full of shit. The only one he calls incorrectly is Rukil, who is probably also an untrained Sensitive (the age, the "marked" comments) and half senile, which is probably throwing him.

Related to that, his distrust and wariness about something not adding up with the PC, the Jedi Council feeding the party a line of bull, that things just aren't adding up. And on all of it? Dead on. He's 100% right about the Player Character, he just expected something a little less crazy than "that's Darth freaking Revan."

If you play Female Revan, then Carth's the one who gets fried in the torture cages on the Leviathan. Saul comments how strange it is that Carth takes so much punishment and still remains conscious. Now, this is a low level thing, but in lore, Force Sensitives have drawn on it to keep them alive or conscious under duress. Explicitly, the first sign we got that Leia was a Sensitive when she withstood the Imperial torture droid.

Another of his scary ass judge of character feats? In the comics, Zayne (who is on the run from the Jedi, who framed him for the murder of his classmates) has a vision that Mandalorians are coming for Serroco. Saul? Laughs it off, throws Zayne in the brig. Zayne's own friends don't even believe him. Carth gets one of those creepy hunches and starts calling in "duck and cover" sirens as far as he can broadcast, which sends seventeen cities and millions of people heading for shelter. It saves their lives and Carth is called a hero for it. Armed with another hunch, he disobeys Saul (remember this is before Saul nukes Telos) and lets Zayne "escape" from custody. Mind you, not even the Jedi or his party members believed Zayne. Carth did.

Carth makes a lot of creepy weird offhand predictions about the future. He says he knows on some level he'll be there when Saul dies. That certainly pans out. He makes an offhand prediction that the Jedi have set the party up to take a fall. Right again. He tells a female PC that she'll have to make a choice soon, one she can't walk away from. And then we get the temple top. He even blurts out that "I sensed you would have to make a choice soon, and that was it*, I can feel it!"* If you specify a LS Female Revan, his recording for T3-M4 says he's had a hunch Revan would leave without warning. Again, spot on.

Specify a LS male Revan, and Carth will remark to Bastila that seeing the Exile reminds him "there are worse things to lose." The only other people who can see just how screwed up the Exile is are the Jedi Masters, Chodo Habat, and the Force Sensitive party members.

Specify a LS female Revan, and Carth will insist that he would know if Revan were dead (again, scary ass intuition) and that there's an "emptiness" where she used to be. Now, remember one of the things about a broken Force Bond? It would simply be "empty, a wound."

You know how your party members in KOTOR 2 feel upset or even horrified as they realize they feel compelled to protect Exile and can't being themselves to leave, even when said actions are kicking puppies? And how they swing wildly from being crazy, almost stalker level possessive of them to being scared out of their wits and clamming up when you try to pry anything out of them? And the more potent (and untapped) their Force Sensitivity, the more they get hammered with the effect? (Mira and Atton in particular) Yeah. Now, Carth's "I don't wanna talk" looks a bit different, doesn't it? It could also account for that romance arc, especially if you roll a DSF Revan and go for that "everyone dies" ending.

Again, Ajunta Pal. Seeing a Force Ghost? Yeah. Some degree of Sensitivity needed. Understanding what he's saying? Yeah. Takes a bit more than that. And Carth makes a weirdly insightful comment about the Dark Side on top of it.

Notice that this a wall o text argument already, and I'm now just getting to the "Yeah, his kid is able to throw around mid-level Dark Side powers and packing a red lightsaber." Given the jawline and the muleheaded attitude, no way Morgana was fooling around with the pizza delivery boy. That's definitely Carth's kid, and that's definitely Force Sensitivity. Now, while it can skip a generation (see Theron Shan), it tends to run pretty heavy in families.

Lastly? Gee. He comes from a planet settled by and heavily populated by descendants of Force Sensitives who failed their training. I'm also willing to bet some bastard children of Jedi get passed off as "foundlings" and "orphans" and dumped there, too. Jedi are forbidden attachments, but not sworn to celibacy, so...yeah, bastard kids are gonna happen. There's probably a Jedi or two in that family tree. It's circumstantial evidence at best, but it still supports the case.

Now, any arguments I missed? Counterarguments?

And the million credit question: If there's a character who gets to break this news to poor Flyboy, who do you think would actually take that on? How do you think Carth would take that kind of news? And what, if anything, would come of it?

I kinda figure Jolee might be the only one nuts enough to poke that with a stick...I also kinda figure "Sentinel" would fit best. Consular? Hell no. He hired Mical for that. Guardian works with the feats, but the whole "ferreting out deceit and injustice?" Yeah. That's Carth.

[swtorpadawan]

Fun

(For Chapter One of this series, Monsters and Masks, please click here. ) Author’s Notes: I am not conforming to the norms of Chiss aging in my head-canons. For the record, Ashara is 21, here, while Ozibaumnu is 22. “My lord… may I ask you a personal question?” Ashara Zavros, Jedi Padawan, spoke even as she continued to trudge a few steps behind her ostensible master, Lord Kallig, across the icy plains of Hoth. The two were heading back to their shuttle at Dorn Base after successfully seeking out the Force ghost of the ancient Sith Lord Horak-Mul and persuading him to allow himself to be bound to Kallig. All this with the ultimate goal of challenging Darth Thanaton, who had been hounding Kallig, Ashara, and their crew for as long as Ashara had been with them. 

Hoth was barely habitable; it was essentially a freezing orb of snow and ice floating in space. Fortunately, both Ashara and Kallig were well-dressed for the frosty climate, wearing heavy cloaks over their normal robes and thermal garments beneath. Kallig – with the customary generosity she’d come to expect from him – had even provided her with thermal sleeves for her lekku and montrals. She couldn’t imagine where he had come by the garments that seemed to fit her perfectly and were clearly designed for a Togruta like herself. (Perhaps he had met a synthweaver in all his travels?) Regardless she was grateful for the protection and touched by his attentiveness. 

The cold had proven to be too much for their speeders, so they’d ultimately been forced to park them a few kilometers short of the base and were now heading the rest of the way on foot. 

(Tauntauns would have been more practical, Ashara knew. But the smelly, hairy beasts bothered her and even Lord Kallig hadn’t been keen on them.) Kallig paused in his step and turned towards Ashara. He was still wearing his black and silver skull-mask, one Ashara now knew was the legacy of the infamous Kallig bloodline. The mask gave him a foreboding look, an appearance that he’d carefully cultivated, he’d later confided to Ashara. Allies and enemies alike responded more promptly – and more predictably – to the mask than to the Sith Lord’s actual face. Most who encountered him knew him only by his growing reputation; the man beneath – a relatively young Chiss – was ‘unimportant’ in the grand scheme of things, he’d claimed.

(This was especially important, Ashara noted, considering Chiss serving in the Sith Empire often faced considerable prejudices, even those among the Sith.) Ashara, personally, much preferred him without the mask. “Only if you promise to remember that you don’t have to call me ‘my lord’ when we’re in private, Ashara.” Kallig’s tone was gently teasing, and she could almost feel his slight smile behind it. “Call me Ozibaumnu, or you could even follow Andronikus’ lead and call me ‘Ozi’, if you like. Its only in front of others that we need to worry about titles and formality.” He gave her a casual shrug. “Such things are quite important among the Sith and Imperials.” She was touched by his consideration, but she didn’t fail to observe that although he nominally served the Sith Empire and was a Sith himself, he didn’t personally identify himself as an Imperial. That is an important distinction. Ashara observed, filing that nugget of information away for later. “Okay. Ozibaumnu.” she gave him a hopeful smile. “I was just wondering… what does a Sith Lord who isn’t committed to the dark side do for fun?” He’d turned towards her fully now, his head tilting to the side. He had shown her a great deal of patience thus far, arguably far more than her old Jedi masters had. Ashara couldn’t imagine asking that kind of question to Master Ryen or Master Ocera. Indeed, it wouldn’t have ever occurred to her to do so. But Lord Kallig was different. Different than the Jedi. Different than Elios Maliss, that Sith acolyte on Taris, and different from ever other Sith she’d met since then. Different than how she ever imagined a Sith Lord ever could be. Different from anyone who Ashara had ever met, really. “Fun, hmm?” he queried. “Yeah. Fun. You know. For recreation. For enjoyment. Just… you know… fun.” She emphasized. How could she explain the concept of fun to someone who she was starting to suspect had never experienced it? Lord Kallig seemed to be chewing something over. He finally reached up and undid the clasp on his mask, pulling it up and over his head. Ashara had seen only two examples of Chiss in person before she’d met Ozibaumnu, and both had been allied with the Imperial military, seen from a distance. After she’d joined the Sith’s crew, she recalled finding his red eyes unnerving at first, but she had become much more comfortable with them over time. The stark contrast of the red against his dark blue skin was rather exotic. His face was heavily scarred; Ashara knew the marks were from his years as a slave but had never pressed him on the details. (She imagined the stories must have been horrifying.) Still, she privately admitted to herself that his high cheek bones and raven widow’s peak hair were not unattractive. When she’d first met him, of course, he had been wearing his Kallig mask and from the way he talked, she’d imagined him being … well, much older than he was. Later, when he’d revealed his actual face back on his ship, it was only then she realized first that he was Chiss and second that he was only a year or two older than she was. Ozibaumnu often seemed a completely different man to Ashara in private. Or without the mask. Or when she thought of him as ‘Ozibaumnu’ and not ‘Lord Kallig’. She was only now starting to understand that he needed to put on the show of being a ‘dark and imperious’ figure to discourage other Sith and Imperials from targeting him or his crew. This was the culture of the Sith Empire as it existed, and it was a culture that Ashara hoped Kallig would someday overturn. Now free of the mask, the Sith Lord exhaled slowly into the cold, icy air, his breath visible in a small puffy cloud. Ashara recalled that Chiss were naturally adapted to colder climates. Indeed, they’d seen dozens of Imperial-aligned Chiss on Hoth during their time here. Far more than she’d ever seen before. She’d privately wondered why he hadn’t revealed himself as one of them. Shouldn’t he welcome the presence of his own species, after spending so long in the Empire? “Well, I don’t really know.” He finally said. “I have vague memories of… playing with my elder sister when I was very little.” His voice grew wistful for the briefest of moments, and Ashara, feeling charmed at the thought of Ozibaumnu as a small child, started to smile. “I suppose that must have been fun.” The feeling wouldn’t last. “When we were separated, however, well, that’s when the Sarnovas bought me.” She could hear the sting of bitterness and pain in his voice. “I had… duties and lessons. I suppose I may have enjoyed some of those more than others. I read extensively in their library when I could find time. And I found great relief with the biochemistry lab, but that was primarily to manage Lady Sarnova’s gardens. I’ve kept that up, as you’ve seen on the ship. I’m even proficient enough now to produce custom stim-packs, and I do find the challenge relaxing.” He paused. “But I don’t think I would call it ‘fun’, exactly. It’s just something engaging I do to keep myself mentally sharp.”   Ashara felt her heart start to break hearing about the life that Ozibaumnu had led. It was entirely unfair and put the difficulties of her own life into context. The young Sith Lord had turned away from her now, looking off into the distance at one of Hoth’s moons. Though there was still daylight out, night would be falling quite soon. Still, she was hesitant to interrupt him, enjoying this level of openness. There was time. “It couldn’t have been so different for you, could it?” the Sith Lord asked, turning his head towards her slightly. “The Jedi aren’t exactly known for providing their padawans with a spirited and carefree upbringing.” Ashara bit her lip at that. She had enjoyed her time as a Jedi, no matter how frustrated she’d grown when she felt like her Masters had been holding her back.    “Well, we were given some free time each day.” She finally said. “To learn or relax however we chose. A few of us watched holovids. Some of the others meditated or studied records on loan from the Jedi Archives. I liked sparring with the others, but none of them could really keep up with me so I usually went exploring outside the enclave where I might run into rakghouls or bogstalkers or some other local predator. I didn’t seek conflict with any of them, but I didn’t back down when they attacked, either.” Her lips twisted into a guilty smile. “None of them could stop me.” She knew her pride was a weakness, but she couldn’t quite help it. “I guess… I guess it was fun. For me, anyway.” Ozibaumnu chuckled. “I believe you. I’ve seen your power and skills first-hand.” He gave her a grin. “You’re a remarkably talented warrior.” Ashara blushed in embarrassment at the compliment, looking away self-consciously. “Uhm. Thank you.” She offered lamely. Why did it bother her so much, him seeing her flustered? Seeming to sense the sudden awkwardness, Ozibaumnu turned away again. Ashara liked that about him. He respected her boundaries and didn’t push when she was uncomfortable with something. He seemed to ‘get’ her in a way other people didn’t. “Anyway, after I… ‘left’ the Sarnovas’ service, I began my Sith training. I knew full well I was already well behind the other students, and that my Chiss heritage would make me a target for a great many of the acolytes and overseers. I had to work twice as hard and to watch my back. The others took enjoyment from tormenting others or in the failures of one of our fellows. That’s… not something that interested me. So I suppose I didn’t really get to do anything for its own satisfaction.” He paused and Ashara could have sworn she could feel his mind sort through its memories. “Since then, well, first I was performing missions for Zash and then since her… transformation, I’ve had to deal with Thanaton. My companions – prior to meeting you, that is – have been a Dashade shadow-killer whose hobbies include ruthlessly devouring Force-users, and Andronikus, who enjoys acts of piracy and games of pazaak. And I can only play so much pazaak. It’s a reasonably engaging pastime, but not something I enjoy in and of itself.” Ashara had been listening to him talk about his life when inspiration struck her. Noting that his back was still turned to her, she crouched down and put her plan in motion. “But I’m afraid I’m not very experienced with the concept of ‘fun’. Not in a long time, anyway.”     He seemed to ponder that reality for a long moment. “Oh, Ozibaumnu?” Ashara finally asked innocently. “Yes, Ashara?” he attentively turned back in her direction. The snowball struck Ozibaumnu square in the chest, crumbling on impact, but nevertheless leaving the Sith Lord covered in a good amount of snow as his startled eyes widened. Ashara covered her mouth with her hands to smother her laughter, eyes wide with mirth as the Chiss blinked and looked down at himself. “I’m so sorry!” she cried out, still desperately trying to stifle her giggles, and out of breath. “It’s just… you didn’t know what ‘fun’ was and you were just standing there… and I wanted to show you… I’m sorry!” She closed her eyes, trying to recompose herself with her Jedi training and utterly failing. Honestly, she was still a little shocked by her own conduct. She’d never in a million years have even thought about throwing a snowball at any of her old Jedi Masters. Plus, she genuinely liked and respected Ozibaumnu. He was intelligent and knowledgeable treated her with respect and kindness and offered her as much freedom as he could. He’d let her express herself and her abilities in ways she’d never been able to before, and as a result she felt she was becoming more proficient at lightsaber dueling with every encounter and was growing far more refined with the Force overall. And what was more he spoke with her, not at her. About the Force, the Empire, the Republic, the Jedi, the Sith… everything. She’d enjoyed it, more than she’d like to admit. It felt like no one was holding her back anymore. Instead, Ozibaumnu was helping her move forward. She really should be kinder towards him for all he’d done for her. More respectful. She lowered her hands from her face and sighed, trying to prepare a more sincere – and heartfelt – apology.     And that was the moment Ashara felt the snowball hitting her in the face. The Togruta sputtered as her hands brushed away the snow, looking up in disbelief at her assailant.   Ozibaumnu, the Lord Kallig, Heir to Tulak Hord and the Great Dragon of the Cult of the Screaming Blade, was grinning mischievously at her in an expression Ashara had never seen on his face before. His hand was extended outward, palm-side down. A few inches beneath it she saw a new snowball being formed in mid-air, just out of the reach of his hand, and immediately realized that while she’d been distracted trying to smother her laughter, he’d sculpted the first snowball and had flung it at her just by using the Force. Now he was plainly getting ready to send another her way. It was so playful it was almost charming. She was so startled and then entranced at the sight that she barely had time to duck her head from the second snowball as it flung itself towards her, letting out an ‘eek’ as it narrowly sailed over her montrals.   She glanced back at him. Ozibaumnu continued grinning and promptly reached out and started forming a third snowball. Ashara felt a surge of adrenaline as her natural competitive instincts took over. If he was going to throw snowballs at her, she’d defend herself in kind. She kicked out at the still-forming snowball, then reached down towards the snow to form her own. Ashara knew she couldn’t match Ozibaumnu’s telekinesis or other outstanding Force powers, but she didn’t think he was her equal in physical prowess. She found herself smirking as she hurled her half-made snowball back at him. The Sith Lord deftly dodged the projectile by deftly turning his body, in an elegant display of an economy of motion. The minimal amount of effort had been expended. Then with a widening grin and a gesture of his hand, the snow all around them started to rise from the ground. Realizing the danger, Ashara took off, calling upon her Force speed to embark on a dead run away from him almost faster than the eye could follow. She’d realized immediately what Lord Kallig – Ozibaumnu, she reminded herself – was trying to do. She’d just have to be fast enough to overcome it. As she pushed herself, the ground behind her rose in a veritable tidal wave of snow, getting larger and larger as it pursued. Just when it threatened to overtake her, she adjusted her trajectory, evading its path. The Jedi padawan had been the best combatant in her class on Taris. Maybe one of the best in all the Jedi order. She knew that as powerful as she was, she couldn’t face Ozibaumnu directly like this. But even as the wave of snow turned and pursued her, she had a plan. Ashara continued to alter her direction, ever so slightly. Ozibaumnu was incredibly powerful and intelligent, but if she timed it perfectly, it was just possible she could find the angle to take him unawares. She risked a glance over her shoulder at him and was rewarded with the sight of a still grinning Sith Lord, reaching out with his hands as he guided the ever-growing wave of snow. By now, it was nearly ten meters high and twice as wide. Despite the cold and the speed she was running at, Ashara could feel the perspiration start to build on her brow as she continued to run, still adjusting her angle. She had never run so fast in her life, but at the same time, it was so exciting. The shape centered on the Chiss Sith Lord was nearly complete; Ashara was like the free tip of a compass while the wave behind her was drawing the circle. Just before she reached her starting point – and perhaps seconds away from being overtaken by the wave of snow – she turned her route completely towards him at a hard ninety degree angle and leapt, launching herself towards him with the strength of the Force in a remarkable display of athleticism. He'd turned towards her, his red, pupil-less eyes wide as they caught hers. She’d have missed the reaction without her Force sensitivity focused so acutely on him. For a fraction of a second, she was certain that her plan had failed, and he would respond with a Force Wave, throwing her back and into a nearby snowbank. Or perhaps he might even lash out with his Force Lightning, which Ashara was certain she could not resist or defend against. Not at this point.  

But the expression on Ozibaumnu’s face was not a grin any longer. Nor was it anger or even shock. His eyes wide as he looked at her with the most serene expression. He looked at peace, with his lips slightly parted as he watched the oncoming Togruta soaring towards him. This observation registered in Ashara’s mind at the very instant she collided with him, sending both Force users tumbling to the ground in a heap. The Force wave of snow, no longer under the guidance of its master, simply collapsed just short of them, sending up a flurry of flakes. When the dust settled, Ashara, still breathing heavily, sat up and looked down at Ozibaumnu. He was laying on his back while Ashara was effectively straddling him. The wind had obviously been knocked out at him, but his eyes were still open, and looking up at her. Ashara swallowed, catching her breath as the feeling of awkwardness set in. “Uhm. You okay?” He blinked but didn’t turn away. Instead, he just nodded up at her, his eyes still wide and strangely focused.   Ashara smiled, relived. Then realizing she’d succeeded in her plan, the smile widened into a grin. “I got you.” she beamed in triumph. It had been the first time she’d bested him in any kind of training. Ozibaumnu’s didn’t react in the slightest, nor did he move free himself or to push her off of him. In fact, he was only barely breathing as he continued to gaze up at her. “You’re beautiful.” The words startled Ashara, as her jaw dropped and her cheeks flushed. He’d always been friendly to her, and they’d even bantered a handful of times. But he’d never said anything to her like that before. These past several weeks had been a whirlwind for the young Togruta. She’d seen her old masters slain, then had allied with the Sith who’d killed them. She’s left Taris behind, and since then had seen how the growing war between the Republic and the Empire was impacting worlds like Quesh and Hoth. She’d made friends – or at least acquaintances – wish a Sith Lord, a pirate, and a Dashade shadow-killer who was sometimes possessed by a Sith. She had learned new things about herself, experiencing things she’d never imagined and she suspected that her journey of self-discovery was only just beginning. That there were many more lessons ahead. And as she looked down at his handsome face and felt butterflies in her belly, she wondered if this were one of them.   The Chiss was still looking up at her, entranced, breathing heavily with his mouth agape. Ashara found herself starting to lean down towards his lips, getting closer and closer… It was at that point the silence was shattered by a voice that could be heard calling out in the distance. “My lord!” Alarmed, Ashara turned towards the sudden intrusion, her hands reflexively going for the lightsabers she kept clipped to her belt. Rapidly approaching the two from about fifty meters away was a squad of Imperial soldiers, clad in the Empire’s finest cold-weather gear. They were led by an eager man wearing sergeant stripes on his armor, his eyes wide in alarm. Suddenly very self-conscious of the fact that she was effectively straddling the Sith Lord to whom she owed her allegiance in the middle of a plain of snow, Ashara scrambled to her feet, hastily brushing the snow off her robes. She turned away as her cheeks burned in embarrassment, looking down at her feet. She could only imagine how ridiculous she looked at this moment.     The soldiers came to a stop a few meters away, the sergeant suddenly uncertain. Each of the squadmates appeared to be surveying the lay of the land.   “Forgive me, my lord. Dorn Base had a report of a sudden snowstorm… phenomena in this zone. We were concerned you’d been stranded.”   Ashara remembered that Captain Yudrass of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Force now commanded Dorn Base, largely on Lord Kallig’s recommendation. Perhaps these men were here at Yudrass’ request? Ozibaumnu had, by now, risen to his feet, his back to the soldiers. Ashara watched as the Sith Lord carefully refastened his skull-mask around his head before finally turning to face the sergeant. “Not at all, sergeant.” Lord Kallig said, his voice once again slightly distorted by the mask. Nevertheless, his tone was clear, firm and commanding. “My apprentice and I were simply enjoying an impromptu training session. But I am most grateful for your concern.” “Ah.” The sergeant blinked, glancing at Ashara with a nervous look in his eyes and then back to Kallig before swallowing. “Of course, my lord. My apologies. My men and I will return to our patrols.” Kallig gave a slight nod, effectively dismissing the soldiers. The sergeant gave the order and the men turned westward, back in the general direction of Dorn base. Finally alone again, Kallig turned to Ashara, his face once again unreadable beneath his mask.     “That was fun.” He said simply. Ashara bit her lip at that, and she realized only then that she’d been holding her breath in the presence of the soldiers who had ‘caught’ them. She exhaled, finally smiling softly at him. “Yes, it was.” She answered quietly. He gave a nod of his head and she found herself hoping he was smiling beneath the mask. “Well then. We should get back to it.” Without another word, the Sith Lord began trekking through the snow, once more headed towards the base. Ashara watched him for a second, her smile turning into a grin. Then she followed, eager to catch up. Author’s Notes: Some of my younger readers may not be entirely familiar with how people used to draw precise circles. Now you know.  The Ashara Zavros romance in the SI story can be troubling if not approached from the correct direction. One of my goals with this particular character to explore that romance while avoiding the pitfalls.   I love the idea of the Sith Inquisitor or the Sith Warrior going through most of the game interacting with Sith and Imperials who are unaware you are not human or Pureblood. Its like they can pull the mask off at any time and say “What did you say about Mirialans again?” Ozi is not a big fan of the Chiss Ascendancy. They sent his family into exile and to the Empire, and then did nothing after his mother was killed and he and his sister were enslaved. So he’s not a creature of sentiment with respect to his own species. But he was more accommodating with Yudrass, an NPC on Hoth who I found memorable. Honestly, he was one of the few Imperials he saw on Hoth who seemed worth his time. This might be the beginning of a reconciliation. Frankly, its too soon to say. Finally – I was originally going to name this piece ‘Snowballs’ but opted to change it to avoid any entendre issues. (Some of y’all have dirty minds.) Tagging people who liked my WIP teasers - @actualanxiousswampwitch , @sleepswithvillains​ , @elaphaemourra​ , @starstrucknerdbatkid​ , @lyrishadow​ , @sarpndodoesrp , @introversiontherapy , @faith71504 , @cinlat , @a-master-procrastinator , @a-muirehen , @imperialparagons , @blueburds and @greyias ! Thank you all for the encouragement! Also for @starknstarwars - who a VERY long time ago did some Winter prompts, the result of which being this WIP i had almost abandoned for over a year. The lesson here is, save your work. You can always come back to it later. Also - @swtorshipping​ - For your approval. Comments are always welcome!

[keldae]

New Beginnings

Sorand had known for most of his life that he had never completely been a child of the Empire. Sure, he'd been born as a citizen in Imperial Space, along with his brother, and he'd known his father was also Imperial by birth. But his mother, the Corellian Jedi who had hidden her Jedi training and come to Imperial Space with her husband… she had never become a citizen herself, a secret she’d held until her death. And he knew now that his parents' plan had been to take their sons and escape to the Core Worlds before Sith Academy recruiters came snooping for young prospects.

And then his mother had been murdered only days before their planned flight, and life had gone to hell, and Sorand still wound up on Korriban after all. He had still looked for a way to escape to the Republic once he was free of a slave's chains -- first as an apprentice under Darth Zash, and then as a Lord while trying to survive Darth Thanaton’s schemes. But with a Dashade constantly looming nearby, and Imperial eyes always watching, and both Zash and Thanaton tracking him too closely for him to slip away… besides, would the Jedi have believed his claim to be the son of one of their own, even if he had been able to defect? Ashara's first masters on Taris certainly hadn't been willing to talk to him. Honestly, until he had met his sister, Ashara had been the only Jedi willing to hear him out, seeing beyond the black robes and red lightsaber.

And then the odds of a Dark Councillor being able to defect after he’d been abruptly elevated by Darth Marr… less said about that, the better. But at least by then he'd found his father, and the Empire was more bearable with Reanden there. Knowing that his brother and sister were both safely in Republic territory helped, even if he was envious of his siblings for being free of the Empire.

When he had slipped away from Dromund Kaas to join the fledgling rebellion against the Eternal Throne, he hadn't been thinking of any possible citizenships, or really, anything beyond a desperate attempt to rid the galaxy of Zakuul. He hadn't been surprised to hear that Acina had been furious enough to rescind his Imperial citizenship and his title as a Darth. But he had a place in the Mandalorian clans with Shara, and then a purpose in helping free his sister and backing up her efforts to fight Arcann and Vaylin. After Valkorion's destruction, he had joined the rest of the members of the Alliance in asking "Now what?" 

Of course, he hadn't had time to think about that, between the uprisings across the galaxy and the Iokath debacle. At least being Xaja's stand-in to run the Alliance while she had been first pregnant, and then too distraught by Theron’s dumbassery to function, had kept him busy, even if he had started finding a worrying amount of grey strands in his dark hair after Umbara happened and Theron staged that (stupid, idiotic, dumbass, shittily-planned, plain moronic) betrayal. 

Ossus was the first time that he had properly been able to work with Republic forces. Tau Idair had given him some serious side-eye when she heard the Imperial accent that still lingered in his voice, and Nadia Grell had eyed him with no small amount of caution; but Doc had remembered him from the Revanite incident and greeted him as a friend, and Master Gnost-Dural had cautiously accepted him after Xaja vouched for him. From the looks the other Jedi and the colonists gave him, he figured he wasn’t going to be accepted readily, despite being the Hero of Tython’s brother, and quietly resigned himself to the suspicious stares and mutters. At least one good thing had come out of his duel with Darth Malgus in the ancient library: despite getting his ass handed to him and nearly being killed by the Sith, he seemed to have earned the respect of other Jedi and the colonists for standing with Gnost-Dural.

But even after that, and with the resurgence of the conflict over Onderon and Mek-Sha, he had never dared to let himself hope that he would be permanently free of the Empire. Now that he was in the heart of the Republic fleet, surrounded by other members of the Odessen crew and Republic personnel, the new (and perfectly legitimate) identicard that labeled him a Republic citizen still didn't seem real. He subtly pinched his arm, just to confirm this wasn't a dream.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Reanden offered his youngest son a smirk, leaning back against a table in Carrick Station's cantina with a tumbler of Corellian whiskey, looking as comfortable as if he had always been a Republic citizen, not an Imperial one. While Sorand knew his father had been a deep cover SIS operative for longer than he or his siblings had been alive, he was pretty sure this was the first time Cipher Nine had been able to openly relax in Republic Space.

"I never thought it would actually happen," Sorand murmured, still staring at the identicard. A former member of the Dark Council, one who was still known as Darth Imperius to more than a few Imperial soldiers and citizens, holding proof of his new Republic citizenship… Darth Zash and Darth Thanaton would both be turning in their graves at his new status. That thought pleased him almost as much as what his mother's reaction would have been. He looked at his father and gave him a small, melancholic smile. "Mum would be so thrilled if she could see this."

Reanden's dark eyes softened for a moment. "This was the endgame she and I had planned, getting the lot of us back home where we'd wanted you to be. Took the long route getting there, but we got here eventually." For a moment, his contentment vanished behind a scowl. "And just in time for me to be informed that I'm being retired from active field work and getting put to work in training cadets. In case you ever meet him -- the Director’s a dick."

"Aww, I'm sure there's plenty of miscreant cadet spies who need to get whipped into shape. Besides, knowing you, you’ll get bored enough to make him send you back out on missions." Sorand grinned and nudged his father's arm, earning an incoherent mutter and an eyeroll over the whiskey. He then looked at Shara on his other side, contemplatively sipping on an ale. "How are you feeling about this, cyar'ika?"

"It still hasn’t sunk in yet. Never thought I’d be offered Republic citizenship -- I almost wonder if that old Chancellor might’a put in a good word for me or somethin’." Shara shrugged and offered a small half-smile. "Never woulda thought Mandalore would be takin’ up with the Republic either. Weird how life works out -- but I think it’ll all turn out fine." She glanced at a small cluster of station personnel, all eyeing the former Imperials cautiously. "Once that lot all gets over hearin' Mando'a an' Kaasian accents, anyway. Odessen used to be almost half ex-Imp, so there’ll be lotsa Imp accents kickin’ around for a while."

"Trying to change accents is a pain in the ass,” Sorand said with a short laugh, with a passable accent that wouldn’t have been out of place in Hutt Space. Force knew he’d had years of practice in listening to and mimicking Hutt Space accents as a youth. "It’s a work in progre-- oh, hello, Master." He inclined his head to Gnost-Dural, who was just making his way up to the group. 

"Ah, just the former Sith I was looking for." Gnost-Dural nodded. It was hard to tell with the mask, but if the warmth in the Force was any indication, Sorand was pretty sure the old Jedi was smiling. "I was hoping I could steal you for a moment, Impe-- Sorand."

"Of course." Slipping his precious new identicard back in his pocket, Sorand followed the Kel Dor a few paces away to a quiet alcove. The flickerings in the Force gave him no indication of what the Jedi was thinking. "What can I do for you?"

"Less a favour, more a proposition for you. One that your sister might have asked of you if--"

They both heard the muffled shriek of "Kira!" from the upper ring around the cantina, and Sorand could feel a burst of relieved joy from Xaja, accompanied by hurried footsteps as she ran to greet her former protégé, dignity be damned by the sounds of it.

"... If her former Padawan and the former Wrath hadn't just walked up." Gnost-Dural chuckled. "She'll be occupied for a while."

Sorand grinned, glancing up in the direction of Xaja's bright Force-signature, then back to Gnost-Dural. "And she's already the happiest I've seen her in years. Being back in the Republic is good for her."

"The Republic is fortunate to have her back," Gnost-Dural agreed. "But how are you feeling with this change? It's certainly not the Empire."

"Definitely not," Sorand nodded. He hesitated for a moment. "Force knows I wish I’d been able to leave the Empire far sooner. If I had had my way, I would have defected on my own years ago. Being a Sith was… a survival mechanism, and by the time I was elevated to a Darth…" He shrugged. "I honestly figured the Republic would have no place for a former Dark Council member, if they didn’t just shoot me on sight."

"You are far from the first high-ranking Sith to turn their back on the Empire," Gnost-Dural assured him. "Your sister had the Wrath leave with her, after all."

"Yes, but Scourge never really swore himself to the Republic," Sorand pointed out. "He was more focused on taking down Vitiate than in helping defeat the Empire entirely."

"Not untrue. But you…" Gnost-Dural seemed to be looking him up and down. "Every dossier I ever found about you showed you trying to change the Empire from within, or trying to aid Republic operatives when the opportunity presented itself. It is a pity we couldn't open a path for you to come to us before now." He sighed. "But, this is one positive that came about from the changes we've endured over the last few years, ever since the Zakuulan invasion. It's been easier for people like you to slip away in the chaos, whether to the Republic or to the Alliance."

Sorand nodded his agreement, his hand brushing over the pocket of his nondescript jacket where his identicard rested. "After everything that's happened, it feels surreal that this is finally happening. I still feel like I'm going to wake up any moment now."

Gnost-Dural chuckled, then seemed to grow more serious. "What are your plans, now that Odessen is a member world of the Republic?"

"My wife and I haven't discussed it much yet," Sorand admitted. "With Mandalore signing on with the Republic as well, Shara's thinking of contracting out her hunting skills. There were a lot of families that were split up during Zakuul's invasion, and the SIS can't find everyone."

Gnost-Dural nodded. "And yourself?"

"I'm not sure." Sorand shrugged. "I'm pretty sure Xaja will still want me around as her deputy, at least until Odessen has a finalized government beyond being a military outpost." He frowned slightly. "Although I dearly hope she's not planning on asking me to be the Senate representative."

That got a chuckle from the old Jedi. "You really are like your sister. She has never been fond of politics either." He paused for a moment. "I may have a proposition for you, one that should hopefully give you an 'out' from being a Senator."

"What is that?"

Gnost-Dural shifted to cross his hands behind his back, comfortably at ease. "The Jedi Order has a long road back to recovery, as you know. Your sister accepted a role on the newly reforming Jedi Council, but we do need all the help we can get. You would be a great asset. I would like to formally offer you a place in the reforming Jedi Order."

Sorand had spent years learning to hide his emotions, masking his reactions and thoughts to everyone around him during his years as a Sith. And every bit of those honed instincts abandoned him right then, eyes widening, mouth falling open for a second before he recovered. "A place in the… you're serious?"

"Dead serious. Your knowledge of the Sith is helpful, but your power with the Force; your skill with healing; and your knowledge of the history of both Jedi and Sith is a rare and valuable asset." Gnost-Dural nodded. "You wouldn't be a Master to start, of course -- you would start as a Padawan. But I don't see you staying in that rank for long." He chuckled. "And you're far from the oldest recruit to join our ranks."

A Jedi… even in his wildest, most deeply secret dreams of defection, Sorand had never dared to truly let himself imagine being offered a place in the Order's ranks. Even if he was restarting as a Padawan, this was already a dream he had never dared to hope for. "I don't know what to say. I'm… I'm incredibly honoured," he breathed out, then hesitated. "... I am married with a family, though, and my first commitment is to them. Will that be a concern?"

"A decade ago, perhaps. But I think the Jedi are evolving with the galaxy -- some things do change. Besides, your sister is also rejoining us with a husband and a child. It would be rather hypocritical for her to keep her family, and to ask you to give up your own. I understand you're both Corellian as well -- it is the tradition of the Green Jedi to have families." 

"It is," Sorand acknowledged, inwardly trying to control his sheer excitement at being extended this offer. "Who would be my Master?"

Gnost-Dural chuckled again. "Well, if you're content with having an old man as your Master, I think it's time I took on a new Padawan myself. And after fighting against Malgus with you on Ossus, I would be pleased to have you at my back. You're a good man, despite what the Sith tried to turn you into."

"I had a good teacher as a child," Sorand murmured, thinking back to the lessons his mother had taught him… the lessons that had kept him sane and attuned to the Light, even in the darkest parts of the Empire. Even looking past his excitement, he could feel the Force all but pushing him to accept the offer. He swore he could feel his mother's spirit proudly beaming at him. "I… I'm honoured to accept. I can think of no better teacher."

He was sure Gnost-Dural was smiling under his mask. "The honour is mine, Padawan. The Jedi are fortunate to have both your sister and you." The old Jedi reached out to clasp his new student's shoulder, then stepped back. "Take the evening to relax and enjoy your new citizenship. We'll begin your training tomorrow."

"Thank you, Master." The phrase that he had absolutely loathed during his years as a slave, and his tutelage under Zash, felt comfortable and easy here, when directed to a Jedi. He managed to keep his elation somewhat tempered down until after Gnost-Dural took his leave… and then let the broad, excited grin take over as he made his way back to his father and his wife.

Reanden raised an eyebrow as his younger son rejoined them. "Well, you look particularly gleeful, buddy. What's up?"

Sorand felt his grin lessen slightly as he wondered how the news of his new status would be taken. "Well…" he slowly said, "of all the titles I've had or planned to have… I never expected 'Padawan' to be on that list."

Reanden's eyes widened. "Padawan, is it?" Then he looked over at Shara and grinned as he held his hand out. "I win. Pay up, kiddo."

“Wait.” Sorand blinked. “Did you two have a bet going for what that chat was going to be about?”

"Totally thought it was gonna be Alliance osik," Shara ruefully said with a smirk as she pulled a few credits out of her pocket and handed them to her father-in-law, then looked at Sorand. "The Jedi know we're a package deal, right?"

"Yes. Apparently that's going to be a little less of an issue in the new Order." Sorand grinned and hugged Shara across the shoulders, kissing her forehead. "You're still stuck with me, cyar'ika… just with much less ambient lightning."

Shara laughed and stretched up to kiss his cheek. "Long as you ain't replacing that with jetiise preachy osik, we're good. I can't wait to see your brother's face when he gets the news."

Oh, Korin's reaction was going to be hilarious, Sorand knew… even if he was pretty sure Theron was trying to push the spacer in the general direction of the SIS. But that was something to think about later. Right now, it was an evening to celebrate. The Empire reeling from a successful Republic blow; a new citizenship and a place in the ranks of the Jedi; and the knowledge that he would never, ever need to return to the Empire…

Yes, he thought, smiling as he waved his brother over to tell the news to. Life was the best it had been in years.

[rainofaugustsith]

Rain Plays SWTOR: Soloing the Seeker Droid quest

I was reluctant to make a guide for the Seeker Droid series because the final mission on Ilum was so challenging. It's clearly meant to be done by more than one player, although the rest of the quest chain is extremely solo-able.  However, it CAN be done solo, so for those who want to try it out, I recommend Dulfy's guide. I'm not going to duplicate what she's done; I'm going to try to add extra observations from a solo player's perspective.  I went through this quest chain with Viri, a Vengeance Juggernaut Sith Warrior (DPS) with 306 gear. She has three small set bonuses (2% Mastery, 2% Endurance, 2% Alacrity). Her companions were Jaesa and Vette for the missions completed successfully. Both were influence level 50. Her tactical is the Krall’s Accord (the one you get from Onslaught). 

The Dread Seeds There will be seven Dread Seeds across various planets you will need to collect. Put your Seeker Droid on one of your quickbars so you can access it quickly. You can always tell when you've reached the area with the Dread Seeds. There will be "corrupted" animals with glowing red eyes and bodies, black rocks, and tentacles erupting from the ground.  With the exception of Taris, the Dread Seeds are in the same area for both factions. Here's how to get there.  Imperial Side:  Alderaan: QT to Outpost Talarn.  Balmorra: QT to Sundari.  Corellia: QT to Axial Park South.  Hoth: QT to Thesh Outpost.  Taris: Pick up the Heroic quest Enclave Raid and take the provided transport. You have to go through the heroic area to get to the Dread Seed area anyway; you might as well pick up a few extra credits and XP.  Tatooine: QT to Outpost Zaroche.  Voss: Pick up the Heroic quest Cleanse the Corrupted and follow the map from there. 

Republic Side:  Alderaan: QT to House Alde Library in the Juran Mountains.  Balmorra: QT to Lower Sundari Outpost.  Corellia: QT to Axial Park North.  Hoth: QT to Outpost Senth.  Taris: QT to Waypoint Station Draay.  Tatooine: QT to Outpost Thorazan.  Voss: I'm not sure. QT to Shad-Ka Outpost looks closest. (I’ve only done the quest from Imperial side, and while I can travel to the others, I just estimated this on the map)

Arcanum  To get here: use your ship and fly to the marked quest triangle on the map for it.  There's really nothing terribly difficult about this station. The jumps can be challenging, but if you have Phase Walk it will be helpful. Rocket Boost is also really helpful to pick up some extra speed for the jumps. I'm a pretty horrible jumper overall and I was able to handle this.  Hunting through the Shadows - Belsavis To get here: 

Imperial: QT to the Imperial Deep Launchpoint and then take the Rakata Transporter to the Lower Prison Magma Transport. Follow the path to the Tomb and then follow Dulfy's map south.  Republic: QT to the Maximum Security Ops Center and then take the nearby Rakatan transporter to the Upper Transport Center.  There's nothing earthshaking here. Just remember the caveat from Dulfy's site: you can't hit the boss. Hit the adds and he'll be gone in record time. 

Alchemy of Evil - Ilum  To get here: go to Ilum by clicking the planet on the galaxy map. If you are Republic, QT to the Republic Waystation and follow Dulfy's map into the Jedi Temple ruins. If you are Imperial. QT t the Imperial Waystation and do the same.   This H4 on Ilum is really, really difficult. It's not so much the difficulty, but the difficulty combined with the various bugs. Make sure you hit this heroic with your best companion with the highest influence. Bring medpacks. Be on your toes. 

The mobs in the first hallways can be overwhelming, with a lot of silvers, so be ready.  Let the mobs work against each other. When you get off the elevator, a mob will break through the wall in the hallway. Lead them into the room just on the other side of the hallway and the corrupted sergeants will shoot some of them for you. With the next group, you can do the same. If you hold back for a moment before you get close enough to aggro them, some of the NPCs will take a few of the others out. When you get to the long corridor, this trick works a third time. There are two NPCs at the end of the room. Hold back and a third enemy NPC will appear and kill them both. 

The Horrible Turret Room, or Survive the Onslaught You will be in a long corridor with cells on either side. Behind those force fields are more corrupted mobs. A lot of them. There are clickable power cells - one at each end of the hallway. You need to click on the power cells and carry them to either the turret or the force field controls. 

You can only end this battle by getting the turret to kill all the mobs and then blow a hole in the wall. You can only get the turret to work by charging it with the power cells. You need six to charge it fully.  However, while you are doing this, the mobs will be trying to break down the force fields. The force fields will turn yellow, and then red, and then disappear. If this happens, mobs will swarm into the room - and if you're on your own, it's pretty much over.  In order to get this done, move fast. As soon as you kill the first sargeant, the power cells will turn blue and be clickable. Make sure you're in front of one so you can instantly grab it. You can load three or four power cells into the turret before the force fields will start turning.  Try to remember the order of the force fields as they turn. You do not have to immediately address them if they are yellow. If they are red, you want to get to them ASAP. Keep moving back and forth through the room and do not stop.  Another corrupted sergeant will appear when the turret is around 50%. Have your companion keep him away from you - if he touches you as you carry a power cell, your PC will die.  When the turret is powered to 100%, retreat to the entrance of the room and hide behind a pillar. The turrets will take out all the NPCs, and then the wall, without your help.  More tips:  1. If you use any ability while carrying a power cell, it will explode and insta-kill you. This includes the Assassin/Shadow speed runs.  2. If the Corrupted Sergeant touches you while you are carrying a power cell, it will explode and insta-kill you.  3. If you touch the force fields, it's an insta-kill (seeing a theme?)  4. There is apparently a bug that prevents the turret from being charged fully. If this bug is present, you will be able to charge the turret to 87% but not to 100%, no matter how many power cells you feed to it. If you experience this, you will need to reset the mission.  If you die in the corridor, you will not want to respawn there because all of the doors will be open. This means that all the mobs will be in the room, and they will overrun you and your companion very quickly. You will have to go respawn at the medical droid outside the temple.  Sithspawn Experiment This fight goes in cycles: you fight the Sithspawn. The Sithspawn vanishes and four tentacles appear. When the tentacles are destroyed (or enough time elapses), the Sithspawn returns. The Sithspawn has a stun and a heal ability called DREAD TENTACLES. If you do not interrupt the Dread Tentacles and the heal, you will be in this room for a long, long time. I'm not even kidding. You can keep this fight going for a half hour or longer. Make sure you keep all your stun breaks and interrupts for Dread Tentacles.  You can drag out the battle with the tentacles slightly in order to allow your stuns and interrupts time to cool down.  Ostensibly, there's a way to stop the endless cycle. There are several barrels around the room. If you attack the dread growths on the barrels (it's one shot), you can use the barrels against the Sithspawn. The barrels will stun it, which will stop its Dread Tentacle heal, stop it from stunning you, and allow you and your companion to wail on it.  When the tentacles are defeated, immediately go to a barrel you have not used yet. Make sure you have already taken the little dread growth off the barrel. Stand ON it. Put your companion on passive and have them stand right next to you. When the Sithspawn jumps, it should explode the barrel and give you a chance to press your attack. Use Heroic Moment here if you have it, and keep hitting it.  However, these barrels can be bugged. When I first attempted this battle, they would not blow up. Thus, the battle continued.  When this happened, I gave up and left the room while the tentacles were out. If you leave while the Sithspawn is out, it will reset the entire battle. Leaving during the tentacle battle and coming back seemed to make the barrels work. I can't promise this will work for you, but I will offer it as the only suggestion I have.

Lord Tagriss

If you made it through the turret room and the Sithspawn you should be absolutely fine here. There's nothing I can really add to what Dulfy has said, except for this: to find the crystal you need to click, turn 180 degrees from the red forge. Now hover your mouse over the piles of crystals one by one. The one you need to click will give you the "hand cursor."

[spell-cleaver]

The last time Luke had set foot in the cavernous senate hall it had been for empire day and his father had made him stand behind his seat for five hours.

Part 0.5, Part 1, Part 1.5, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Masterpost here!

The last time Luke had set foot in the cavernous senate hall it had been for Empire Day and his father had made him stand behind his seat for five hours.

It dwarfed him now, as it did then: the thousands of pods, bubbles slotted unnaturally neatly into the sides of a chamber that dropped farther than any child (or human being whatsoever) could ever be comfortable with. Nova helped him up onto the central podium that rose from the floor and he gulped, clinging to her hand perhaps more tightly than necessary, forcibly not looking down.

When the pod got moving, he may have yelped. No one heard him but the guards at his back—Vader’s guards, but Vader himself wasn’t here so he could relax—and Nova, who smiled and squeezed his hand a little.

Then they were up, and up, and he could feel every single senator’s gaze on him like needles.

His introductory speech was short and sweet. He knew the tradition of the Senate was to open with his father’s voice—even from before the rise of the Empire, when he was still the Chancellor of the failing Republic—so Nova had advised that he should seek to keep that, to assure the Senate of at least some continuity. She’d helped him write it, showed him how to make it suggestive of but not committed to certain things, to give the impression of someone with wisdom beyond his age.

After he’d done that, he stepped back to let the new spokesperson—one of Amedda’s surviving aides—introduce the speakers. They were debating which planet a new academy should be built on, and Luke sat back in the Emperor’s chair on the podium, datapad weighed against his knee as he took notes.

“That’s a good idea,” Nova murmured to him. “It makes it look like you’re paying acute attention to each and every one of them—like you really care about their opinions on the situation.”

“I am,” Luke replied. “And I do.”

She smiled. “I know.”

The session didn’t quite last five hours, but it did last four, and when Luke stood again to give his closing speech it was with a sore backside and drooping eyelids. He’d paid attention to… nearly everything in the session, he’d only zoned out a few times, and now he was looking forwards to the smaller, closed event where Nova had arranged for him to personally meet a few senators at a time,  and to after, when he could read or draw or sew quietly, in peace. Fully process the day.

“You’re smiling,” Nova observed as the pod descended.

Luke smiled wider. “I like feeling a little bit in control.”

“Then let’s try and increase that feeling,” she said, and placed a cool hand on his shoulder to guide him down the nearest corridor. The guards fell into place behind them.

The function was held in a small room off to the side, with locked doors and shielded windows, and a table of small, worthless food that in Luke’s experience tasted weak and did nothing for hunger. Before he entered, he ordered that his escort stand guard outside, behind the door, while only Nova accompanied him in; he didn’t want Vader’s men witnessing this exchange.

The three senators he was supposed to meet today had already taken seats on the low sofas around the table, and the moment Luke saw them he understood what Nova was up to.

Senator Organa from Alderaan. Senator Mothma from Chandrila. Senator Pamlo from Taris.

Nova had not been subtle about her Rebel sympathies, when last they spoke of such things—and it was no wonder that she wanted to present people who’d disagreed with his father’s regime first. He’d need to… talk to her, about that later. Organa was rumoured to be an active member of the Rebellion—was she one, too? How did she know him?

Why had she been so insistent on raising Luke?

But for now, it didn’t matter.

He trusted Nova.

So he smiled broadly at the senators the moment he entered, and it was not faked. They smiled back—if a little warily, for Pamlo and Mothma—and stood to bow. “Your Majesty.”

“Senators,” he greeted. He sat down quickly, letting them sit as well; even seated, he was noticeably shorter than them. He hoped his distaste didn’t show.

He rested his datapad on his knee and, despite how tired and hungry he was, did not reach for the food.

“I believe Lady Sabé informed you that over the next few weeks, I intend to speak with several of the factions in the Senate. My father’s unexpected passing left me somewhat unprepared to immediately take up his mantle, and I would fix that as soon as possible,” he began. “I’d like to start by asking you of your broader opinions of the state of the Empire, and the Senate, today, and to let me know if there are any issues you believe should be addressed.”

He worked to keep his voice perfectly neutral, gaze on his datapad. He granted them a moment to glance awkwardly at each other before he looked up again, gaze latching first on Organa.

He did not expect—and would not appreciate—open treason. But Organa was smarter than that.

And the definition of treason was set by the monarch.

“My concerns about the Empire, Your Majesty, are that it has proven too focused on military prowess, and that therefore other areas have degenerated severely in the past few years…”

*

Another hour and three interviews—discussions, perhaps, between the three Rebel senators, while Luke stayed neutral and listened—later, and Luke was exiting the room with a datapad full of notes, and questions he was going to ask Nova. But he had been taught politics and diplomacy for as long as he could remember, far more thoroughly than his father or Vader had ever tried to teach him about the Force; he was already coming up with some ideas.

He’d speak to some of the more pro-Imperial senators before he implemented any, to get a more balanced picture. Erialus, maybe…

Nova stayed behind to talk to her friends a little bit, so Luke walked down the corridor alone save for his guards; he just wanted to get back to his quarters.

But he’d barely been walking for a few minutes when something felt… off.

Yes. Off.

He stopped in the middle of the corridor. They were surrounded by senators’ offices, but they were all empty at this time. It wasn’t them…

It was…

He turned to face his guards.

They wore the armour of Vader’s 501st, right enough, but the Force, that mystical energy field he knew he wasn’t skilled in, he knew he shouldn’t trust as much as he did, it said—

He blinked.

Well.

It said there was a blaster pointed at him, and his eyes could corroborate that.

“Come with us, Your Majesty,” the guard said. “We mean you no harm.”

Luke’s heart hammered in his chest. His eyes widened slowly. His breathing quickened as he raised his hands.

“I— I—”

“I said, we don’t want to hurt you.”

“You have a blaster—”

“But we will,” he continued harshly, “if you do not cooperate.”

That was when Luke recognised him.

That gruff voice, the utter lack of patience—

His eyes widened even further. “Captain Vassic—”

He dived to the side before he’d even finished talking. The stun shot grazed his thigh; he wasn’t hammered by it but a numbness seized his leg and he stumbled into the wall, sliding down. He shoved himself up and staggered back, away from—

From his father’s guard.

The captain of his father’s red guards, who’d had to guard him enough times in the past as well.

Bolts streaked past him, blue and red—they turned the setting off stun, oh moons, they want to—

“We do not want to kill you, prince, but if you do not come with us I promise that you will get hurt. You know we have never taken disobedience lightly.”

No. They hadn’t.

They never, ever, ever had.

There was feeling in his leg again. Luke put weight on it, testing, and sprinted—

And a shot caught him in the waist—sent him down in a shout of pain.

Hot blood pumped from his side; he squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to stifle it, screaming—

But then Vassic took one step closer and Luke peeled his eyes open again so he could see him approach, holstering his blaster.

So he could see the black-clad nightmare who should be on the other side of the galaxy storm down the corridor with his lightsaber lit.

Vassic froze, and whirled on Vader in a cry of shock and outrage, but Vader was faster. Luke flinched at the brutal snap of his neck, at the way the other trooper was stabbed in the gut and left to die, moaning on the floor in a blubbering mess.

Luke stared at the trooper, at the body, and at Vader, who knelt in front of them.

“Luke,” he said. “Luke, you—”

“You’re meant to be on Eriadu,” Luke said dully, staring.

“I— I sent the Noghri to perform that task, Majesty, my apologies—”

“Luke!” came a shout. Luke’s gaze slid over Vader’s shoulder to see Nova running for him, but then it was pulled back to Vader’s mask, and he stifled a bloody sob.

“They didn’t want to kill me,” he said.

“Majesty, you must get to a medbay—”

“They wanted to kidnap me, like you said. Take me away.” His gaze slid towards the floor. “They didn’t want to kill me.”

“Luke…”

“Why didn’t they want to kill me? What did they want me for?”

Vader was quiet for a moment.

Then he murmured, “Sleep, Luke.”

Unconsciousness sucked him down, and he knew no more.

Send me the first sentence for a scene from this AU and I’ll continue it!

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[shimmersing]

Best Intentions Masterpost | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Bonus! Soundtrack @ Spotify

Chapter Five: Trajectory

Aitahea watched, silent, as Brant Sonn ripped the Thul banner down from its place outside the warehouse, tossing the fabric aside and hoisting aloft the blue and gold of House Organa. The adjacent farmlands were clear of their enemies, and she hoped the families that tended them would soon be able to return, to have lives again peaceful and orderly.

The Thul warehouse had quickly become a staging area for the merged Organa and Republic forces once Aitahea’s rescue had been completed. A painstaking search of the building had revealed no trace of the Wolf Baron or his Blackguard, leaving them with only the low-ranking guards who’d been Aitahea’s unfortunate jailers. They would be sitting tight while prisoner exchanges were arranged and negotiations finalized.

The strike team that Aitahea and Erithon had agreed to lead had opted to wait until the following day to advance on the Thul and Sith forces. Qyzen Fess and Aric Jorgan had volunteered to scout the Sith camp, their experience making them ideal for the initial part of this new mission. Elara Dorne had efficiently organized the Organa subjects into something that suggested typical rank and file.

Aitahea found herself surprisingly grateful to be ensconced in the same warehouse in which she’d been held prisoner, working alongside Erithon as they organized the next morning’s attack. Though they’d barely had a moment to speak other than in communication about the impending battle, just being near him seemed to ease her spirits. It went without saying that his presence was making the wait and the work that much more pleasant, delighted as she was to see him.

Her abbreviated captivity hadn’t left her any worse for wear; she couldn’t help but entertain the morbid thought that she probably hadn’t had as significant a rest as those few hours of forced unconsciousness in weeks. Nevertheless, Elara continued to regularly check in with her, and Erithon remained within arm’s reach.

Erithon. She had known, even in the depths of her stupor, the Force still a guiding path for her unconscious mind, that she was safe and would eventually be rescued. But waking to that particular set of blue eyes? A dream come true.

“Jedi?” He appeared at her shoulder again, real and warm and safe; Aitahea swallowed hard and tried to calm her escalating heartbeat.

“Yes,” she answered, scanning his face again. Again.

She was looking at him too much. Someone was going to notice. Someone else, since the duke and the sergeant had obviously already witnessed her absolute nonsense upon awakening from the drug-induced sleep. What had she said? I was just thinking of you? She wanted to simply blame it on the drugs, but when he’d pulled her in close, what he’d said… How is it you end up in my arms every time we meet?

All she had managed at that singular moment had been a giggle. Honestly. Honestly.

“We’re close to done here, if you want to take a break. You’ve been going nonstop since you woke up.” He was trying to smile at her, but a crease kept appearing between his brows. Even had she not been a Jedi, his worry would have been palpable.

“Thank you, I think you’re right. Today has been… remarkable, to say the least. Like this, since before I arrived.” She waved a hand at the bustling warehouse before offering a rueful smile. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance to see your holo. It’s just been…”

Erithon chuckled. “It wasn’t urgent, I mean. I just wanted you to know I was on the way here. Worked out after all.”

“It has indeed.” She folded and refolded her hands, eyes flickering to where Elara Dorne gave a small squad some cursory training drills. “Your team has grown since Taris.”

“Yeah, Sergeant Dorne is great. She joined us on Taris, actually.”

“Her accent…”

“Yup. She was an Imperial citizen. Didn’t like how they did business on the other side, so she joined us.”

“That’s incredible.”

He shuffled, distracted for a moment by some sheets of loose flimsy that shifted when he tried leaning against a table. “So, this is where you grew up, right?”

She smiled, delighted. “You remembered.” Much to her continued wonder, he blushed and stammered over the next few words.

“Hard to forget.” He paused, swallowed hard, and took a deep breath before continuing in a rush. “Well, we’ve sort of been on this, uh, trajectory, right? I mean we practically flew into each other over Nar Shaddaa.” He quieted and stepped closer, something wistful on his face. “Looking at the same stars over and over again.”

The rest of the room seemed to hush along with him, but even so, Aitahea could barely hear anything over her madly rushing pulse. Stars. She had a sudden wild urge to embrace him, just absolutely throw herself into his arms. I must still be suffering the effects of that gas. What am I doing? She promptly quashed the superfluous impulse, instead holding up her datapad.

“You said we’re finished for now? Let’s…” she trailed off, looking around the room for another suitable distraction. “Have a look outside? I’m sure the sergeant would agree to a quick lap around the perimeter, just to-” By the Force, did you just ask him to go on a walk with you? “-see how our allies are faring?” She finished in a rush, looking somewhat desperately for a charging dock for the datapad she still held.

He chuckled again, plucking the instrument from her hands and setting it aside. “I think they’ll be fine. But you seem to need it, so let’s get out of here.” She inclined her head gratefully as he gave her the lead and wasted no time in heading for the warehouse exit.

Aitahea blinked as they walked out into bright sunlight, raising a hand to shade her eyes. The farmland they’d be crossing tomorrow was lush, already planted with crops that she hoped would survive the battle. A farm vehicle still smoked among some of the scorched plants, but the Jedi felt certain that their team wouldn’t allow any more harm to come to the farmlands or its people.

Erithon fell into step next to her and angled their path toward the coast. They walked in companionable silence until they reached the rocks that marked the edge of the coastline, heedless of the light snow that had gathered in the shade of the evergreens. The sea churned against the rocks, calm but still very, very far below.

“What a view. Come on.” Erithon broke the silence, clambering onto a boulder and turning to offer her a hand. “Aren’t scared of heights, are you, Jedi?”

Aitahea laughed, recalling with some amusement when he’d pulled her to the edge of a much smaller, much nastier body of water on Taris, and reached to take the proffered hand. “I am not, fortunately. But I must admit that thranta is one of my least favorite forms of transportation.” She nodded toward a nearby platform where a few nests were visible.

“Those big bird things? Yeah, no thanks. I’ll take a speeder.” He pulled her close, sliding his free arm protectively around her waist until she had her footing.

Aitahea took a long breath, fighting the urge to look anywhere but his eyes, earnest and warm and still a little worried. Oh, I missed you, she thought and swallowed hard to keep the words to herself. They were well back from the edge of the sheer rock face, but she couldn’t help feeling a little bereft when he released her and dropped his hands back to his sides.

She turned away from the coastline, looking back toward the battered towers of Organa Castle. “Tell me about how you regained the Spears of Organa. The Duke only gave me a brief outline, but he wasn’t able share any details.”

Erithon grinned at her. “It wasn’t what we expected to be doing as soon as we were dirtside, that’s for sure.” He straightened, squinting at the surrounding landscape for some point of reference. “Haley Organa caught us at the spaceport, desperate as anything, asking us to disarm some baradium bombs. That was the first we saw of these Thul clowns.” He pulled a face, like he’d gotten a whiff of something foul-smelling. “Didn’t like their tactics at all. They fought dirty, set up ambushes all around those turrets. Took all three of us, if I’m being honest.” Any bashfulness he’d displayed since their reunion fell away as he spoke of his companions, giving way to a steadfast and proud commander. “Havoc’s becoming a good team.”

The Jedi had seen more than a few Republic military recruitment posters in her travels, but they paled in comparison to Erithon standing before her now, dashing and capable. Her fingers quivered as she reached out, but she placed her hand on his arm anyway. “They have a good leader.”

He gazed down at her, pensive for a moment before he broke into one of his now-familiar lopsided grins. “Just doing my job, Master Jedi.”

“You…” Aitahea pressed her lips together and swallowed hard, considering her hand on his arm before she lifted her eyes to his again. “Please, call me Aitahea, won’t you?”

“Of- of course. Aitahea,” he stammered in reply, and it was like hearing it for the first time. He hesitated for a beat before placing his own hand over hers, fingertips cool against her flushed skin.

Her breath caught in her throat, chased by a feeling like falling. Like gravity failing. Suspended and unsure how to move, what to reach out for. Oh stars.

“Lieutenant?”

Both their heads swung hastily toward the unexpected voice. Aitahea slipped her hand back to her side as surreptitiously as possible and willed her burning cheeks to cool. Aric Jorgan and Qyzen Fess approached, looking none the worse for wear, returning from their scouting mission. Jorgan saluted efficiently, while Qyzen remained unreadable as usual.

“Ready to debrief, sir. We’ve got footage to show you in the warehouse.” He nodded to Aitahea. “Master Jedi, we’ll need your assessment in particular, I think.”

“Many Sith,” Qyzen rumbled. “Soft things, but dangerous still.”

“Never a dull moment,” Erithon drawled, giving a perfunctory shrug. “Guess we better get back to work, huh?”

Aitahea nodded solemnly, tucking away the lingering feeling of loss that had lodged in her chest. “Indeed. Let’s head back.”

“Herald, a word,” Qyzen said, and Aitahea tilted her head.

“Of course, Qyzen.” She nodded to the Trandoshan, then to Erithon and Jorgan as they looked at her expectantly. “We’ll catch up shortly.” The Cathar shrugged, and Erithon gave her a smile and a wave as they turned back toward the warehouse.

She watched until they were out of hearing range, then turned to see Qyzen uncharacteristically fretting, a divergence from his usual composed demeanor. “Is something wrong, Qyzen?”

“Would ask the same.” His single seeing eye focused on her hands. She had one covering the other, as if she meant to hide the place where Erithon’s hand had lingered on hers.

She stiffened, sweeping her hands behind her and clasping them tight. “Nothing’s wrong, Qyzen. Why?”

Qyzen’s only answer was his own question. “When is last time Herald spoke to Yuon Par?”

Perplexed with the apparent change of subject, Aitahea shook her head. “Is that what you’re worried about? It’s been… weeks, I’m afraid. But she’s well; I can sense that much through the shielding.”

“Certain she is, Scorekeeper’s Herald.” The Trandoshan considered her for a long moment. “It is you who are not. Should speak with Yuon. For own sake.”

Aitahea nodded somberly. She glanced over her shoulder just as Erithon paused one final time before he and Jorgan disappeared into the warehouse. The consular closed her eyes and pulled in a deep, slow breath. “I will, Qyzen. I will.”

Best Intentions Masterpost | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 |  Chapter 7 | Bonus! Soundtrack @ Spotify

[ramblingsofachristiannerd]

for roa'nev: crimson imperial sandstone safety coral white shadow black

ROA’NEV 

thanks for the ask haha. i love him but he is. shady as heck xd

(haha trick me into giving away some of my plot? Yeah you got me; plot details ahead because I couldn’t avoid them in order to answer these questions adequately XD)

Crimson: have you ever been in a war? If so, describe how it impacted you

- Roa’nev is the first of the four to go to war, and he excels at it. He’s smart, ruthless, independent, and devoted to securing freedom for all people. However, as the war goes on, as he’s obstructed by bureaucracy again and again, as more and more people die, he becomes cold. He never loses sight of the lives he set out to defend, but he has fewer qualms about shady methods that protect those lives, i.e. drawing on the power of the dark side. He doesn’t let himself feel anything; he can’t afford to. Every decision he makes is born out of icy pragmatism, pure logic. He’s also using an alias and wearing a mask that hides his features; it bothers him more than he lets on that everybody sees him as this great leader and warrior, the mighty Revan. He becomes his mask, and he feels like he can’t afford not to be – Revan is the identity he chose, and the one the people need. It’s not a very healthy coping mechanism, but it’s also not the end of his character development; he does reach a healthier place eventually.

Imperial: are you in any position of power or authority?

- He’s the Supreme Commander of the Republic military during the war. He goes to war without the official sanction of the Jedi Council, but a lot of Jedi like Malak and Meetra join him anyway. Revan doesn’t particularly like or want to lead, he just knows that he’s objectively good at it, and that this is the surest way to get things done. He is a fair, charismatic, and inspiring leader, and his men trust him completely, but the pressure wears on him more than he lets on.

Sandstone: who in your life has been the most healing for you?  

- Definitely Bastila. She cares about him as a person, not a symbol; she didn’t want to follow him, she wanted to help him, and she saw under his mask to his true wants and feelings. She helped him pick up the shattered pieces of his life when he wasn’t sure who he was supposed to be, and her endless faith in him helped him heal. She’s never shielded him from the consequences of his actions, but she’s always been a staunch defender of his right to a second chance. Their relationship is healthy because he helps her with her own issues, and they don’t feel like they owe each other for it; they just want to help the other because they’re worth it and they care about each other.

Safety: what is the most traumatic experience in your life?

- Poor Revan’s got a shopping list to choose from, but it’s probably the loss of his memories towards the end of the war. He’s a deeply independent and self-sufficient person, and the knowledge that there’s whole parts of his life that he doesn’t remember – and that he will never truly be able to tell if he got them all back – really disturbs him. He lost memories of people he cared about, some of whom were no longer alive, as well as his logic behind certain decisions, and the loss and uncertainty really get to him sometimes. He had everyone telling him about all these great or horrible things he did, and he doesn’t remember why he did them; he’s sick of being compared to the person he was before. Even though it’s a temporary experience, he was straight up not having a good time for pretty much all of it.

Coral: do you have a strong moral code? What are some moral things that you feel strongly about?  

- Revan is a bit of a conundrum in that he actually has a fairly strong moral code, but also the moral backbone of a chocolate éclair. He believes very strongly in certain ideals, but is willing to do some pretty shady stuff to fulfill them, and is very much a classical anti-hero in that sense. But strongest of all, he believes that everybody should be free to live they life they choose; he treats everybody equally regardless of status, and he will fight to ensure that everybody is free.

White: would you consider yourself a good person? What’s the best thing you’ve ever done for somebody?

- He doesn’t particularly consider himself a good person, but he’s not one to wallow in either self-pity or self-hatred. He’s objective enough to know that he has helped a lot of people, and that he’s making real effort to improve himself and be a better person. The one thing he’s unambiguously proud of is liberating the slaves on Taris. He regrets a lot of things, but never that.

Shadow: what is your biggest regret?

- He has a lot, but his biggest will always be his treatment of Malak during the war. Revan relied on his friend heavily during the fighting, and ended up taking advantage of his support to enable them to do some pretty nasty stuff, sometimes intentionally. Revan tapped into the dark side during the war, and because he didn’t want to be alone, he encouraged Malak to do the same, which. Does not end well for them. He hates that Malak also paid the price for what Revan sees as his own mistakes, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop feeling awful about it, even though Malak forgives him.

Black: what is the darkest thing you’ve ever done?

- Revan regrets a lot from the war, but how cold and manipulative he got really bothers him. See the above; the cruelty of essentially becoming Malak’s enabler, taking advantage of his anger and abandonment issues – something Revan didn’t watch or let happen, but directly did – is probably the darkest thing he’s ever done. Malak forgives him, but if there’s anything Revan hates himself for, it’s that, especially as he really does love his friend, and did it anyway. He certainly gets his comeuppance though, and it’s a behavior he intentionally never does again. 

[eyepatchdate]

Since you want them, fine. Jedi au, make it angst. Feed my personal hell.

Putting this under a readmore because it got looooong.  4.8k words under the cut.  I wrote this in a way that’s pretty rough, honestly the plot content of what’s here could probably be a 15-20k storyline.

--- No one said anything to her.

That was the worst part of it, really, the part that kept prodding at her mind, a darkness of anger she suppressed, not able to deal with it yet but also not wishing for anyone else to make note of it. Such emotions were strong, rolling through the force, and her strength could be all too visible if she wasn’t careful. And so, she bit her tongue, both inwardly and outwardly, pretending not to know anything even though she certainly knew something.

And they should know that they travelled together, that he helped her just as she helped him, even though they were set in their particular goals—they were partners.  The Barsen’thor and the Hero of Tython were consistent allies, often together, following each other’s lead—

And yet no one had thought to tell her what had happened.

(Read more)

(Read more)

No one had told her that he had disappeared.  She only knew because of his absence and his failure to respond to her correspondence, or to reach out to her himself.

A thought, freighting as soon as she thought it—perhaps he had died.  But, no, surely, she would have felt it through the Force if he had.  His presence was so important to her, so special, he couldn’t just vanish without her knowing.

And, bitterly, if he perished, she suspected that his ghost would come to her, that he wouldn’t be content to be one with the Force without watching over her, or at least reassuring her.  But, perhaps that was too emotional of her to assume.

She shook her head.  No it wasn’t.  He was as dear to her as she was to him.  Perhaps more, if she listened to the whispers of her thoughts—she shoved them away, down, with her anger.

But no announcement was made about him, none at all. Not about his mission, not about where he was, not about his absence.  His companions had disappeared as well, alongside him.  His fellow knight, Kira, unknown.  The others weren’t as notable to the Jedi, but those two, they were hardly unknown, and Kira’s master still was here, but even from her—silence. Nothing.

Scholarly talk as usual drifted about the temple, occasionally laden with talk of the war as well, but nothing about them.  Nothing.  It was like walking in a dream—like they didn’t exist.  And, somehow, she got the feeling that even mentioning them was taboo in itself now.  They were a forbidden topic suddenly, even to her, who knew him so well.

She was sure he was sent on a mission.  Of which, perhaps, he was told not to tell her of. He would obey that command, and she would not fault him for doing so.  But…she didn’t even understand why he would be commanded such to begin with.  Why not just place them together?  Already two knights were sent on this mission, at least!  Perhaps more, if others that she wasn’t sure about were also involved, but—

She wished she had gone with him.  Had watched him closer or—or something.  Why would they insist on making him go alone?

Trick felt guilty, being at a moment of rest while the war raged, while his status was unknown, but what was she to do?

 She mediated.  It was all she could think of, other than poking her head where she should not.  She sat cross legged in the grass outside of the temple, taking solace in this familiar location, where she had seen him many times while training, where they had become friends.  She stretched out her senses, grasping for the bond she knew was forming between them. It would be stronger, she felt, if he was as attuned to bonds as she seemed to be, but the Force seemed to dwell in him more internally.  It shifted under his skin, powerful still, but less mystic than the usual Jedi. Things were simpler for him, in some ways, he was able to hide his presence, he was able to strengthen himself and only himself in ways that others had to focus for years to do.  He could lose himself in his mind, bringing the Force with him to whatever task it was he was completing.  He was not outwards, like her, like most.

But still, she was strong and had been since practically birth, trained for just as long.  And so, she hoped that her own strength in bonds and sensing could find him, that she could at least use their closeness to help.  To at least learn where he was in the galaxy.  But—nothing.

It was an endless silence, a lack of him in the stars. Dark velvet extending through all of space.  Republic space, Imperial space, Hutt space, even the Outer Rim and the Unknown Regions—no matter how much she tried to extend, how focused she was, how many hours she spent doing nothing but staying still, ignoring the needs of her body, living through the Force, searching—nothing.

It was like he didn’t exist anywhere.  Not even a hint of him.  Not even a spark of his coolness, his soft, almost mechanical presence. Just…a dark silence.

The Force would not solve this for her.  She would have to look elsewhere, push into those places she shouldn’t.  But it would be worth it, to find him.

First, she went to Master Kiiwiks, Kira’s master. Trick didn’t know her too well, but she was the closest to the two knights, especially since Tavon’s master was long passed now.  But Master Kiiwiks closed herself off, almost immediately, shaking her head sadly and saying that she couldn’t share anything.  Not that she didn’t know, but that she couldn’t share.

Trick’s rage bubbled beneath her skin—if you knew why weren’t you doing anything?!  Why just stay here on Tython when they were gone!  Even if it was dangerous, the mission must have been important.  They wouldn’t waste him on something that wasn’t—and if they yet lived why—

Of course, Trick said nothing of that sort.  She was silent, staring in horror as Kiiwiks turned and left, rushed, not wanting to be around her anymore, and she felt a wave of guilt from the master—guilt!

Something in Trick hissed, steam gathering in her heart, the Force tingling in her fingertips and at the tips of her hair. She couldn’t understand what would be worth such abandonment.  What was worth hiding from the Barsen’thor!  What did this rank mean if not to learn secrets?!

She knew secrets, better than many of them, whispers of things unknown to anyone else, and yet still she was untrusted.

Perhaps the Jedi knew how close they were—of their perhaps emotional connection.  Maybe that was enough to make them not want to bring her in.  But…no.  Even with her rank, if they suspected that, they would confront her—she had a good reputation, they would want to bring her to change rather than risk a fall.  They would not be tolerant.

Not that she ever thought her feelings for him would drive her to that—but she had studied enough history to know that such hubris was risky, for even the most well-meaning Jedi.

So, the silence remained, unanswered.  And, instead of seeking openly, she simply started to listen, passively.  Attuning herself with the Temple entire, seeming like she was focusing on her studies in this rare moment of respite she actually had in between the major moments of her life.

Of course, to her, this was just another form of those moments where she had nothing but a battle to fight and a goal to grasp.

Her listening achieved what her active stance had not—finally she began to hear whispers in the halls, the library, the gardens, and just outside of the Council doors.  They were brief, always, he was too difficult to speak of, but slowly a tapestry started to form from the threads.

His fate was not an unknown.  They knew exactly what had happened to him, and were in fact keeping an eye on him, distantly.  They were not approaching, and were ensuring that their eyes did not approach, for fear for their lives.

Fear for their lives?

She didn’t understand.

She heard that he was captured, but he was still acting of his own will, somehow.  He was sent by them to do something, she was correct about that, and they knew what they had asked him to do, but they weren’t speaking of it clearly enough for her to understand what.  A part of her…worried.  Did they send him already…to kill the Emperor?

That had seemed to be a goal, eventually, one day, for all of the Order but—it would be far too soon.  And he wouldn’t be sent alone for that—she couldn’t fathom it. Perhaps he was sent against a higher ranking Sith, but if so then why was he a danger?

He…couldn’t have fallen.

That wasn’t possible.

…Was it?

 It was good that she had learned patience so well in her training.  Meditating for hours to reach a single point of inspiration, waiting for a moment to come that was predetermined by her masters—it was a virtue she took to well.

She finally heard of a destination—of where he was last seen.

Taris.

 It had been a long time since she had been on Taris, and she remembered the struggling outposts, trying to tame and cure the ravaged world.  She remembered helping set up the infrastructure, with him along the way helping as well.  Side-by-side, they had done a lot for this planet, leading to the early successes they Republic had gained upon it, which had even contributed significantly to the rising politician Saresh.  First governor, now senator—it was interesting to see someone she had known fairly well reach that height.

Taris, regrettably, had not risen as its supporters had.  The Republic still held on to a few places, but the Empire’s reinvasion seemed almost worse than their first one.  Instead of orbital bombardment they were instead slowly poisoning the world with toxic waste and strange dark beasts.  The rakghouls were gaining in number and ferocity as their environment was slowly brought to a state where nothing could survive except for them.

Crops were dying, plants were poisoned, animals were sparse…it was a dream turned nightmare.  One of the worst affects she had ever witnessed the war having—how it corrupted this entire planet.

Hundreds of years of environmental repair, gone in but a few months.

 Once on-planet, she signed up to help with what she could.  There were some Jedi on the planet, but the Republic had essentially accepted a loss here. Other than a few scientists who felt that they could reverse the poisoning, Republic forces just wanted to hold a presence, at least, but nothing more.  The Empire didn’t even have that many forces here numerically, but their biological warfare was more than enough to render everything pointless.  An Imperial victory.

So, the presence of the Barsen’thor was a surprising one, and extremely welcome to the forces here.

She didn’t immediately ask about Tavon, biding her time, throwing her senses out to the wastes in between tasks, and there was a hint, a familiar sense, but it eluded her each time she caught wind of it, shifting away, almost like it was hiding.

And it seemed…alien.  More so than his alien mind, but there was something different in his presence.  And she didn’t want to feel it but it was—a sort of corruption.  Familiar.  Sickening. The dark side encroaching on a previously light mind.  But it didn’t feel like the corruption she was used to healing either, that she had grown accustomed to with the ritual.  It was…something different.  Darker, even, as there wasn’t any undercurrent of insanity or the throes of a restless soul—there was just this quiet calm, this silent malice.

She wanted to refuse to believe it—she did refuse to believe it.  Something must have taken him—he would not have fallen like this himself.  An artifact corrupted him or—something. She would find out.  She would save him.

 She perched herself on a floating hunk of metal in the middle of a polluted lake, the acrid smell burning her nose, but something in the Force was telling her to come here, to sit, to meditate and stretch herself out once more, to focus.  Zenith was set up nearby, on the other side of the lake, his sniper rifle scanning the underbrush for rakghouls or Imperial forces.  She had chosen him to accompany her for his patience, and his familiarity with long, drawn-out missions, especially as a sniper.  She could trust him with this, and trust him to remain calm and alert while she meditated.

She could sense him now, settled down, his rifle perched on his pack as he scanned the slope.  He was as comfortable as a posted sniper could be, and he certainly seemed to be in his element.

She closed her eyes, resting her hands on her knees, allowing the Force to flow through her, a familiar friend.

Taris was aching around her, shifting in ways invisible to the eye, but clear to the Force.  The planet was struggling and dying slowly, a familiar death it had already suffered.  Except, this time, recovery would take even longer, if it were to occur at all.  She could sense the rakghouls—some of which had always been beasts, but others were sentients, recently turned.  Others, still, had a whisper of the Force in them as well, but she moved on from that, it was not her hunt.  It was not what she needed to sense.

The pain of the planet spoke to her, whispering to her, showing her how slow the corruption was, and yet how complete it was. How it soaked into every scrap of life, how it was sinking even still, scorched earth, slowly spreading and turning everything toxic.  The Republic was trying, and the planet appreciated that, but it wouldn’t be enough to stem the tide of the Empire.

This planet knew it was dying, and it accepted that death.  It would fight, it would try, but it had died before—it knew death, and so it would breathe its’ last, content that it had at least flourished again even if only for a short time.

Trick’s lips twisted into a frown.  Was it right to give up like that?  To not see the hope, to not try to ask for more aid?  To just…allow itself to die?  She couldn’t condone that, couldn’t even fathom it.  Sure, there was a time to accept a loss, but to accept such a wrongful death, to do so before it was even certain, to do so instead of asking for help—it was unthinkable to her.

Taris may had been at peace, but Trick was not.

Why tell me this? She wondered, You know what I seek—why reveal such a true to me?

The Force shifted in her, her eyes suddenly given sight of a place far away, the Imperial base, standing imposing in a sea of toxic green.  She couldn’t see details other than the scarlet emblem of the Empire, and vague shapes of Imperial soldiers on duty, their uniforms blending in with the dark desolateness of the durasteel in the dark.

He was there.

She couldn’t see him, but she could feel it, that cold mechanical aura, that inward focus, that familiar shift of power. Somewhere inside that base, he sat, meditating just as she was.  Taris warned her against straying too close, whispering to her that she should stay afar like this, observe where she could not be observed, to see something, but she pushed her senses forward regardless—this was the most focus she had been able to get on him in all this time, she wasn’t going to just give up.

He still didn’t seem aware, she sensed no attack or acknowledgement of her presence.  The…opposite, in fact.  There was something else he was focused on, so much so that it blinded him to all else. A thread, to elsewhere, to farther than she could see, a presence encasing his mind.

She would have to get much closer than this to be able to examine that, so she shifted her senses to him directly, to his presence, his mind.  And it was familiar, just like the flashes she had seen before—familiar in its unfamiliarity.  If she wasn’t certain, she would almost assume that it wasn’t him, that this was just some Sith on the base—but she knew.

There was a wall around him, one that usually wasn’t there for her, but one that she figured was there for other Force-users. But, it was him, and so she slipped past, almost too easily.

She found only more of that chill, more of that swirling corruption, seeping into him, dark violet.  A thrill, of some kind, just below the surface.  That…was something she had never felt in him before, had never even seen.  It was…distinctly not-quite him—and yet, it was.

She looked deeper, past the parts of him that disturbed her, past the coldness, searching for some part of him that was uncorrupted by whatever this presence was—searching for the man she knew—ah.

There it was—there he was.

Familiar, warmer, shoved down into the deep dark of his psyche.  This was the part of him where she could feel their bond still holding on, where she could reach more easily, press herself in alongside him.  He was so far down that she didn’t think he would be aware enough to even sense her, but she tried to push as much of herself as she could through that narrow thread.

He was…tired.  The place where his mind was focused was draining him with every moment, a slow but consistent pull, weakening this part of him that was left, causing more of him to shift towards the corruption.  The corruption was not a force entering from the outward aspects—it was entering internally, through wearing down this part of him.  Pressing in, an uncomfortable guest he couldn’t push out.

Or—well, she wasn’t sure.  He wasn’t trying to push it out, as his focus was entirely upon it, but there wasn’t any…friction.  Just, awareness, and a soft desire to keep the rest of himself hidden. To just remain like that, in the dark, lulled into a sort of sleep which he was not awakening from.

A part of him was shifting though, responding to her presence even while asleep, and to her horror it retreated.  Only slightly, inching away through its’ slumber, forgoing her warmth—and something, in its’ dreams, sparked.

Fear. He was afraid of something, so desperately afraid that even this shard of him was recoiling at her presence.  And it wasn’t at her. She was not the source—she was—simply a catalyst, reminding him of what he feared as she caused this part of him to awaken—

This was the part of him that was him, the part of him that would fight, to defend both her and himself, so why would he—

A sudden realization hit her like a bell, ringing in her ears.

He has given up.

Well, of course he did, she thought bitterly, No one has tried to save him.

She froze in her mental tracks, simply standing there, in his mental presence, allowing his wakening self to truly realize that she was not fading.  And he did, she could feel more of him opening up to her, more of him recognizing her. That chill, while still there, for the moment was pulled back, hidden from them behind a curtain of thought.

I am here to save you.

He shrunk back.

           Don’t look at me.

She remained, staunch.  I will not judge you.  I don’t know what they’ve made you do.  I’ve been searching for you.  I won’t give up on you.

           Have they given up?

She hesitated.  He responded to it, reading her emotions perfectly between their not-quite-bond.  A wave of exhaustion, of this almost calm sort of panic—he had accepted how awful his situation was—washed over her, a gentle anxiety-inducing wave.

Tavon.

           I understand.  I failed, and my failure is terrifying.

What failure?  What did they ask you to do?

There was a brief ripple in their connection, a rustle of Force slipping through, that separate far-off presence almost peeking in, but not really—it was too far to properly do so, or to realize.  But something within it must be aware, like it had seen an insect shift out of the corner of its eye, but saw nothing when it turned to face it.  It was just wind, shifting the fabric of the Force-curtain.

           Kill him.

Claws of ice ensnared her heart.  Her whole body tensed, and for a moment she almost regained awareness of her physical self—but she reigned her reaction in, just enough to keep herself tied to the Force, tied to their bond.

           I was to kill the Emperor.

She didn’t know what to say—what to think, even.  They sent him and Kira to kill the Emperor while the war was still raging so powerfully?  When they had no intel on the Emperor or why he hadn’t been seen by the Dark Council in years?!  They just…sent two knights to fight him?!

Anger spiked in her, a violent shifting she kept under her skin.  To him, she thought,

Alone?!

           They told me to kill him.

His presence was withdrawing, growing softer, quieter.  She reached out, trying to grasp at him, but their bond seemed weaker—no—it was more like he himself was fading, and so naturally their bond would weaken as well.

Tavon?!

           I can’t…stay like this.  You have to—please find me somewhere else.  Don’t find me here.  I’ve…I’ve got to go away for a while now.  I won’t—I won’t ask you to leave me, I know you won’t.  But find me later.  When I…can help…

Their connection snapped and she opened her eyes, the glowing green of the toxic lake taking up the majority of her vision with how dark the rest of her surroundings now were.  She could still sense him, faintly, but it was barely a wisp now, even though they were on the same planet.  Even the cold presence seemed almost undetectable now, just…faded.

Something else had been in there, the whole time.  Something was weakening him, constantly.  He had seemed so afraid, before he recognized her, and even after that, he seemed scared, tired, willing to fight but he knew it was a losing battle. That was what she felt he meant—she had to wait to find him again so that he could fight with her, so that she could help him win.

She would.  But, she would listen.  She wouldn’t meet him on Taris.

 That didn’t mean that she didn’t try to find him, though.  To learn what he was doing here, to maybe get at least a little bit more insight as to what had been done to him.

It was hard to get anywhere close though, especially without being detected.  He always seemed to be encased in a phalanx of Imperial troops, and she wasn’t going to risk being seen or fighting them, not when Tavon himself had told her to keep a distance from him.  He couldn’t know she was there.  For…some reason.  That dark presence.

She masked herself, as well as she could, hoping that their weakened bond was quiet enough to keep her proximity hidden from him. She wasn’t too used to hiding her presence in the Force, but she managed it through careful focus—it helped that she wasn’t fighting.

Qyzen was her companion of choice now, as he was much better at hiding in this sort of environment.  Zenith would have been a fine choice as well, still, but Qyzen was used to underbrush like this, whereas Zenith was a bit out of his element anywhere that wasn’t like Balmorra, having not been extremely well travelled before joining her.

Qyzen, of course, preferred the hunt and thrill of a kill, but he accepted recon as an acceptable tactical focus, especially because he wished to help her as an ally.  He could wait on gaining more points for his Scorekeeper for this. And, if they were caught, there would be points aplenty.

They were in the thick of the Imperial occupied areas now—not at their actual base, but in the areas they were operating within. There was mostly only wildlife around here, though a few pockets of Republic resistance was around too.  It hurt to avoid them, to not be helping them, to know that they were probably ordered to die here for a show of force, but…Trick had to focus.  Had to keep her presence masked so that she could learn something.  She had already done almost all she could for the war effort on Taris.  Now she had to do what she came here for.

She followed the bond, as weak as it was, slowly to the source.  She crept along the edges of a large remnant of what once had been a great tower—she had read that once Taris had once been like Coruscant, a city built on top of another, layer upon layer, although not quite as many as Coruscant itself—Taris always still had the natural core, something Coruscant seemed to lack.  The destruction had been devastating, but that natural core had risen, had taken over the rest, only now to be debilitated again by the poison.

It wasn’t difficult to keep hidden from the patrols like this, next to the fallen structures, sticking to their shadows. Qyzen’s scales blended in perfectly as well, leaving them undetected.

There was a large plain up ahead though, and she wasn’t quite sure how she would even begin crossing it—this must have been a place where the Republic actually worked on restoration, there was little to no debris—nothing big enough for her to hide with really, and even the vegetation was beaten down to a more manageable state.  They had probably meant to build here.  But now, instead of a future town or city, it was just a blank plain, stretching out across what would soon die to toxic waste.

He was here though—actually—now that she clung to it again, it seemed that he was closer than she thought.  It had been difficult to tell through the strange fluctuations of Force, but a sudden tug, a chill running up her spine, made her realize that she was…close.

Too close.

He was on the plain.

If she had stepped any closer, surely even his deafened sense would find her—whoever had done this to him was watching at least that closely.  So she froze, drew herself in.  She didn’t need to sense so acutely anymore, not when he was right there.

Instead, she brought her power to her body, to her eyesight to sharpen it, so that she could make out the figures crossing the plain.

There were several, although the others all seemed to be…Imperial guards?  The red ones, the elites that she rarely saw out in the field, as they were usually posted as honor guards in areas that no member of the Republic typically tread. Not even her.  And, in the center of the group…there he was.

It was like someone had taken his body and dressed it up like a doll—he was clothed in dark robes, the typical style that Sith wore, hood drawn up over his head, but she knew it was him.  His lightsaber was on, activated as a small group of rakghouls approached the group, and it—was a…red lightsaber.

How…gauche.  Just a prop, shoved into his hands.

It’d almost be funny if it wasn’t sickening.

That wasn’t him.

It was the chill, it was that far off presence, slipping down, controlling his mind somehow, but not like how the force plague did—it felt different.  It was too cold.

And the way he moved wasn’t impassioned, it was mechanical, like it was commanded stiffly, like he was lifeless.  His limbs were just moving without looking like him—it was…awful to see.  Even from this far away, even though she couldn’t fully make out what it was she was seeing, she knew.

The Emperor had done something to him.

But she couldn’t save him alone—she had to reach out to him the way she had before, when she had spoken with him, and she had to take his hand and pull—to snap that connection.  To bring him back.

She just had to wait until she could.  For him to recover enough so that their bond became solid enough to grasp.

She would follow.  She would wait.  She could be patient.

She would save him.

[brightephemera]

Correspondences below the cut.

0. The Fool: Ord Mantell

Ord Mantell is a planet of beginnings: you may know nothing of the game going in. The Fool is a beginner, a traveler, a novice, one who may not see the cliff that will plunge him into experience. The Fool’s journey will continue across the cosmos. Reversed: naivete, recklessness, foolishness.

1. The Magician: Korriban

Korriban is a planet of power disciplined (however tenuously) by will. Its ground is saturated with arcane knowledge and its abilities grasp at the sky. Fire and control: Korriban is a powerhouse. Reversed: manipulation, poor planning, wasted talents.

2. The High Priestess: Tython

Tython holds mysteries from the earliest days of the Jedi Order. It is lost and rediscovered. It houses the secrets that will be revealed in training only to the greatest devotees. Its lunar and veil imagery point to hidden mysteries. Reversed: hidden agendas, a need to listen to your inner voice.

3. The Empress - Alderaan

I could have continued with Hutta in game order but it doesn’t fit. Alderaan is a prosperous world, a monarchy, a place of lush vistas and noble generosity. Beauty, nurturing, and growing abundance are the watchwords. Reversed: creative block, dependence.

4. The Emperor: Dromund Kaas

Dromund Kaas is the claim of the Empire, a place of rigid rule and unquestioned power. A patriarchal figure rules over all, and the symbol of his influence is pictured here. Its foundations are ancient, its continued existence inflexible, its authority absolute. Reversed: domination, excessive control, inflexibility, but also self-discipline.

5. The Hierophant: Yavin IV.

Sorry, the Emperor does double duty. The ancient temple of Yavin IV was built by slaves, and is used to gather the power of the Emperor for mysteries they will never be inducted into – their service and their deaths both go through Him. The religion has an inviolate structure: conformity, institutions. Reversed: Personal beliefs, freedom, disrupting the status quo.

6. The Lovers: Nar Shaddaa and Nal Hutta.

Planets of choices, of two paths (Agent and Bounty Hunter?), and of Hutt-sanctioned passions. Here Balkar smooths problems over. Here Hutts are pacified, with gifts, with coups. Here, any time you look up from Hutta, you see Nar Shaddaa, its companion in space. Relationships, mutual interests, and choices are the rule. Reversed: self-love, disharmony, imbalance, misalignment.

7. The Chariot: Balmorra.

Strength under control: Balmorra forms the arsenal of whoever manages to possess it. It is a planet of action: the war rages across it while it stands as a fixed point, and in the end its interests win. The imagery of the dual blaster forms the matched pair of the Chariot.  Reversed: self-discipline, but also opposition and lack of direction.

8. Strength: Corellia.

Corellia stands with battered dignity against the Empire, emblem of strength, courage, and influence. And persuasion, as the Republic forces convince CorSec and other elements of the government to throw off Imperial chains. Here Baras and Thanaton’s agents are knocked out from under them, reclaiming influence for the player. Reversed: Inner strength and raw emotion, but also self-doubt and low energy.

9. The Hermit: Tatooine

Yes, the correspondence of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Tatooine is a place of reflection and guidance, most obviously portrayed in the Sith Warrior vision quest. It is the planet where the Rakata have waited alone with their thoughts for millennia, preparing for their rebirth. It is the planet where the Smuggler earns a sensor computer to guide to a treasure. The light in the pictured skeleton’s eye is guidance for those who would follow it. Reversed: Isolation, loneliness, withdrawal.

10. Wheel of Fortune: Voss.

The turn of fate could be no other. The Voss are a deeply fatalistic people, believing in their Mystics’ visions to guide their lives. The player character can undergo a ritual to glimpse their future, and some get additional warnings - all relevant. The Wheel of Fortune is the turn of the universe, a card not just of good luck but of destiny. Reversed: Bad luck, resistance to change, broken cycles.

11. Justice: Manaan.

The obvious reading is the trial in KOTOR, where you must find the truth to clear a man’s name under the rule of law. The theme of balance underpins this planet: it is where players of each faction meet their opposite-faction ally in the Shadow storyline. Its entire ecosystem hangs in the balance in KOTOR. And the Selkath Force users reject the duality of Light and Dark. Justice is fairness and cause and effect. Reversed: unfairness, dishonesty, lack of accountability.

12. The Hanged Man: Hoth.

Luke’s plight in ESB comes to mind. Hoth is a place of suspension, a frozen moment. To call it merely deadly is to pass over the equally apparent moments of transformation, the improbable alliance of Imp and Pub against the Hailstorm Brotherhood, the return of Temple to the Imperial fold, the escape of Horak-Mul in his new form: you. The Hanged Man is a martyr, but also someone discovering something new. Reversed: delays, resistance, stalling, indecision.

13. Death: Makeb

Makeb is a planet of cataclysmic transformation: a breaking core birthing a totally new resource. The transition breaks alliances and endangers the planet, but it is a change, not an end. Reversed: personal transformation, resistance to change, purging.

14. Temperance: Odessen

Lana said it first: Odessen is balanced in the Force, neither dark nor light, and it is here that your faction-spanning Alliance finds its home. Temperance stands with fellow virtues Strength and Justice, but where Corellia takes sides and Manaan rejects them, Odessen partakes in good measure of both sides of the equation. Reversed: imbalance, re-alignment.

15. The Devil: Belsavis

Belsavis is a prison planet, hard-bitten survival and chains that never break. Sometimes that seems wise, like with Darth Ekkage, and sometimes it’s patently unjust, like with Dagger Wing. The Devil is a card of sensuality (not pictured), addiction, and slavery. It is concerned with the material: the aspects of reality most immediate and easiest to cling to. Reversed: releasing limiting beliefs, exploring dark thoughts, detachment.

16. The Tower: Ziost.

Ziost will always be remembered as a disaster, an act of an enemy beyond defense. Ziost was destroyed in a moment that revealed the Emperor’s true scope. The Tower, too, is a thing of upheaval, chaos, and destruction. Reversed: Personal transformation, fear of change, averting disaster.

17. The Star: Ilum.

Above the stillness of a frozen lake, a star streaks over heaven’s field. (There’s a little orange one moving from top left toward middle right just upward from the main streak.) Ilum was home to Darth Malgus’s hope for a new Empire. It houses the Adegan crystals that promise new technology for those who persevere with purpose. At the same time, it houses Jedi ruins of peaceful spirituality. Reversed: lack of faith, despair, disconnection, self-trust.

18. The Moon: Quesh.

This was a hard selection, and Rishi almost took it. (Neither one has a visible moon in the sky.) But Quesh is a planet of mystery, uncertainty, and illusion: Republic Admiral Monk’s reveal as an Imperial operative, the Warrior being lured to a mine, the Bounty Hunter being lured to a merchandising deal, the Consular finding the unacknowledged Attis station, Lord Scourge being a cryptic mystery…I could go on. Here a wall hides a significant zone of the picture.  Maneuvering for advantage without tipping into outright war is a matter of sleight of hand for all involved. Reversed: release of fear, repressed emotion, inner confusion.

19. The Sun: Rakata Prime

Damned planet doesn’t have a sun in its skybox. Nevertheless! I like the glowy flowers. What better expression of raw creation than the Star Forge? But that’s old history, and the Force has recovered. Here is revealed the truth of the Revanites in the light of day. The immediate foe is vanquished and the path is clear. Warmth and vitality rule. Reversed: inner child, feeling down, overly optimistic.

20. Judgment: Taris.

Absolution and rebirth – for a battered planet and for a spoiler on the Endar Spire, long ago. Destruction has come and gone, leaving only a new beginning. Reversed: self-doubt, inner critic, ignoring the call.

21. The World: Coruscant.

Is Coruscant the bright center of the universe? It symbolizes completion, integration, accomplishment, synthesis: the culmination of the Trooper and Consular questlines. And Ord Mantell, the Fool, leads directly into it, forming a complete circuit of the Major Arcana.

Images from Star Wars: The Old Republic. Meanings from https://www.biddytarot.com/tarot-card-meanings/major-arcana/. Deck by brightephemera. Fonts Exocet and Aurebesh.

[postedbygaslight]

You’ll Be the One to Turn - Part 30: The Pilot

Checking back in with Poe and the Resistance.

It had been six hours since the ships had departed for Taris. And four and a half since there had been any contact at all. Poe was nervous. It wasn’t a good sign for the team to have been out of contact for so long. And the chatter coming through the signal jam from the First Order was chaotic and confusing. Something big was happening on Taris. And here he was in a room thousands of light years away, doing nothing but waiting.

“What is all this?” Poe said to Connix, motioning to the holo projection of Taris, which was currently lighting up with tactical alerts in a small patch of the northern hemisphere. “Can we cut through the signal jam?”

“Not really,” Connix said, confused. “That’s what jamming is about.”

“No no no,” Poe said, shaking his head, “on their end. Something’s happening down there. I want to know what it is.”

Connix looked back at the terminal screen, thinking. Poe noticed she’d let her hair down, pulled into a low ponytail. He realized he’d never seen her without the buns.

“I could look at that emergency channel again,” she said, snapping up. “They might not be refreshing the codex if there’s a crisis situation.”

“I like it,” Poe agreed, nodding. “Let’s do it. Get me in there as soon as you can.”

Just then a pinging rang out from the monitoring array on the other side of the room. A junior officer swung around in his chair and delivered the news.

“Poe, the SX transport just dropped out of light speed. It’ll be landing any minute.”

Poe acknowledged the report, nodded again, and headed out toward the tarmac.

***

The SX model transport had landed in the middle of the airstrip. The ramp was down when Poe exited the command center, and the soldiers, who looked bedraggled and exhausted, filed out. They looked like they’d had to really pack in there. Poe didn’t do a hard count, but it looked like thirty or so, and the Falcon still hadn’t made contact.

Two soldiers emerged from the transport with a shackled stormtrooper in tow. The trooper’s armor was streaked with dust and burn marks, and an orange pauldron was positioned over his left shoulder. An officer.

“Great,” Poe said, shouting over the wind and the noise of the flight deck. “Take him to the brig for questioning. Good work, men.”

The soldiers nodded, one saluted, and they picked up the pace, hauling their prisoner along toward the command center. Poe spotted a corporal among the exiting soldiers and called him over. The young man cut off his conversation with his comrades and jogged over to the general.

“Give me good news,” Poe said as soon as the corporal was in earshot. “Where are the others?”

“The whole operation was a scratch, sir. The men in the base were dead when we arrived. We got ambushed. Finn led us out the escape tunnel, and there were stormtroopers everywhere.”

“What, are you telling me Finn isn’t with you? Where is he? Where’s the Falcon?”

“I don’t know, sir,” the corporal said with a note of awe. “Finn saved us.”

Poe paused, considering the facts before him. Finn wasn’t there. Rey wasn’t there. Only one transport had returned. There was no sign of the munitions the mission had been meant to safeguard. And now this soldier was telling Poe that they’d walked into a trap, and that Finn had done something on Taris to save the men who’d been lucky enough to escape.

“Come on,” Poe said, clapping the corporal on the back and walking beside him, “let’s talk inside.”

Poe accompanied the corporal back into the command center. The alerts on Taris were still pinging and glowing. There was a lot of activity on the ground now. Potentially thousands of troops. Whatever was happening was scaring the hell out of the First Order high command.

The corporal went into the office first, and Poe closed the door behind them.

“Okay, talk to me. Tell me everything. What happened to the other transport?”

“We had to scratch the original landing zone. It was a sinkhole. Rey warned us just in time. But then, when we changed course, the Imperial was caught in some kind of magnetic salvage trap and went down like a bucket of bricks. The Falcon landed fine, close to the mission objective, though I can’t figure how.  We set down closer to the original landing zone, but a bit further north.”

“Any survivors from the crash?”

“No, sir.”

The refit Imperial had carried eighteen men and women. All gone in a matter of seconds. The corporal was fidgety, his expression withdrawn. Poe realized he wasn’t sure if he’d ever met this one before. There was a time, back when he was just a pilot, that he knew all the new recruits. Now that it was his job to know them, he found himself more and more removed.

“I’m sorry, your name? I’m having a hard time remembering.”

“Vicks, sir.”

“Okay, Vicks. What about the base? The depot. Our people on Taris.”

“Dead. We found their bodies lined up outside the escape tunnel exit.”

“There was an ambush, then? At the depot?”

“Yeah. Explosion. Sealed us in. Forced us out the back.”

“And that’s where you found the bodies.”

“Executed. All of them.”

That was surprising. Poe could understand taking prisoners. He could even understand executions if they were for specific crimes or to set an example, even if he didn’t condone that. But to execute enemy soldiers and leave their bodies behind for no good reason. Either the First Order officer commanding the mission was a sadist, which, Poe had to concede, was entirely probable, or there was something else going on. And, for whatever reason, Poe had a terrible feeling it was the latter.

“Goddamn it. All right, go on.”

“We were about to go back to the ships, but we were fired upon, and had to scramble for cover. Finn ended up forward our position, cut off from the rest of us. He could see the bucketheads were establishing a perimeter, and we’d have been surrounded in no time. So, he signaled to us to wait for him to give us the word, then to run.”

Corporal Vicks seemed at a loss for words. Poe waited for him to start speaking again, but the young man just stared off out the window, toward the holo projection in the next room.

“You’re killing me here,” Poe finally said, slapping his hand on his pant leg. “What happened?”

“Finn stood up and walked out into the open. And started yelling up at the stormtroopers. They didn’t fire on him. Like they were listening to what he had to say. And we ran like hell. A minute or two later, there was a lot of blaster fire from that direction. It didn’t let up. It just got worse and worse.”

“And Finn?”

“Don’t know, sir. We hightailed it to the transport and got out of there.”

“What about the prisoner?”

“Got separated from his unit and ran right into us. Surrendered immediately.”

“Where was Rey during all this?”

“She was with us right up to the bunker. We were on our way out the main exit, but there was an explosion. Rey and Finn were in the lead. The stairwell collapsed. Only Finn came back.”

Poe let out a frustrated sigh and closed his eyes. The entire mission had been a disaster. Now it wasn’t even clear if Finn or Rey had even made it out. And then there was the other thing.

“Okay,” Poe said, opening his eyes and lowering his voice. “What about the weapons?”

Corporal Vicks looked him in the eyes. The look on the younger man’s face wasn’t disdain, but it wasn’t far from it.

“You mean the disruptor rifles,” Vicks said, his voice loud and carrying.

“Not so loud, damn it,” Poe replied, looking out to the war room to see if anyone had heard. “Yes, those.”

“Finn ordered us to set detonators and he destroyed them.”

Poe blinked. He shook his head sharply.

“Say that again.”

“We set detonators and blew them.”

“On Finn’s orders.”

“Yes sir.”

Poe knew that the disruptor rifles were a risky bet. He knew that not everyone would understand. He knew that Leia probably wouldn’t have approved if she had known about it. But he also knew that they were powerful weapons, and in the hands of trained soldiers, they could turn the tide of a battle, neutralize enemy air power from the ground.

And they could also turn a human being into a smoking lump of gore in a matter of minutes. Poe was sure Finn knew that. He’d just hoped Finn would understand what he had been trying to do. Apparently, that had been too much to hope. Maybe, Poe thought suddenly, it had been a hope he should never have had in the first place.

“All right, corporal,” Poe said, showing Vicks out of the office. “That’s all. Go get some rest.”

***

The holding cells in the Vedic III base were simple supply closets that had been rigged with mag-locks. Two guards were posted in the corridor outside. In truth, the rooms hadn’t seen much use. Other than serving as a drunk tank for soldiers and crew who took their recreations a little too far, and a few very brief instances of disciplinary action, there hadn’t been a need for a prison.

Until now.

Poe made his way to the makeshift jail from the war room after spending a few minutes reviewing the situation on Taris. The guards stood from their chairs and saluted. Poe waved them off.

“Has he said anything?” Poe asked.

“Not a peep,” one of the guards responded.

“All right, let me in.”

The guard swiped a keycard and punched a few buttons on the panel. The key light clicked from red to green, and the door swung open.

Poe stepped into the small, windowless room to find the stormtrooper still shackled. His helmet had been removed, revealing a surprisingly young man with sandy blond hair. He looked at Poe without fear, undisguised spite roiling in a pair of icy blue eyes.

“Lot of excitement back on Taris,” Poe said, pacing around the prisoner. “Hear it was something to see.”

“Eat slime, Rebel.”

“Nice,” Poe said with a mirthless chuckle. “I’m just wondering why there’s a major firefight going on down on the surface if there were only thirty Resistance fighters there. And they’ve all come back. Who’s the First Order fighting?”

“No quarter for traitors. But you wouldn’t know about that. You’re all traitors.”

“Hey, pal. Us traitors have you in a holding cell. And we haven’t done anything but ask you a few questions. You answer those questions, things’ll go a lot easier. For all of us. Who’s the First Order fighting?”

“You think you have anything to bargain with, Rebel? Taris is nothing,” the trooper seethed, a righteous anger swelling in him. “The Supreme Leader will crush this insurrection. And then he’ll come for you. And no one will escape the fire this time.”

Poe stopped pacing. He approached the prisoner, his eyes narrowing as he comprehended what the trooper meant.

“You’re talking about the installation on Naboo,” Poe said, searching the trooper’s face for a reaction.

But the prisoner wouldn’t meet Poe’s gaze. He looked away and down, his mouth curled into a disgusted sneer.

“What is it? Is it another Starkiller? What, another Death Star? What is it?”

The trooper kept his head turned, even as Poe maneuvered to follow his eyes. Poe lost his patience, grabbing the trooper by the chin and yanking his face back toward his.

“TELL ME!”

The prisoner hissed at him and spat in his face. Poe let go of the trooper and shoved him away.

“Fine,” Poe said, wiping his face and backing out of the cell. “Get comfortable.”

***

Poe walked back into the war room. He almost bypassed the room altogether on the way to his office, but something caught his eye. There was another Star Destroyer in orbit above the battle on Taris.

That meant there could be as many as ten thousand troops being deployed. It was probably fewer, but the very fact that the First Order needed to call in another capital ship spoke volumes about the severity of conditions on the ground.

“Connix, any luck with that codex?”

“Not yet, but they haven’t cycled it.”

“Keep at it. And let me know if we hear from the Falcon.”

He looked at the holo of Taris for a few more seconds, rubbing his chin, before heading back toward the office.

”Poe,” Connix shouted after him, “They’re hailing us now.”

“Patch it through in here!”

Poe raced into the office, kicking the door closed as he went. He went to the desk for the projector, but it wasn’t there. He heard the holo crackle to life, and could hear Finn saying his name, but couldn’t see the projector anywhere.

“Yeah, hold on a second,” Poe yelled, crawling on the floor, looking under the desk.

He finally found it on the floor under the table by the window, just where it had landed when he threw it earlier in the day. He picked it up, balancing it in his hand, the translucent blue image of his friend tilting back and forth.

“Finn! You’re not dead! Again!”

“Yeah,” Finn said, rubbing the back of his head, “I keep doing that, huh.”

“What the hell happened? Where have you guys been? The other transport touched down an hour ago.”

“They made it? All of them?”

“Yeah, buddy, all of them. I hear you’re to thank for that.”

“That— might have had some unintended consequences.”

“I heard that, too. Taris is lit up like a firing range. The First Order’s pulled in another division.”

“You’re kidding,” Finn said, his mouth dropping open. “Another division?”

“There’s a third Star Destroyer in orbit now.”

“Poe. This is important. The stormtroopers are in rebellion. They’re fighting each other.”

“What did you say to them?”

“I don’t know. I was— I was pretty sure I was going to die, so— don’t tell Rose, okay?”

“I mean,” Poe said, snickering, “I can promise you, but people are talking here. You’re a hero, man.”

“Great.”

Poe chuckled, but Finn’s face was grim. He remembered what his friend had seen on the surface of Taris, and his own expression slackened.

“Finn, about the rifles. I—“

“We can talk about that later,” Finn said, cutting him off. “We’re... bringing something else back.”

Poe tried a closer read of Finn’s expression, but the transmission was too blurry to see anything beyond concern and a very serious demeanor.

“I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”

“To be honest, I don’t know either.”

“Come on, Finn. What are we talking about here?”

Finn let out a breath of laughter and cocked something of a smirk, giving Poe his answer before abruptly ending the transmission.

“You’ll see when we get there.”

[keldae]

Recruitment

In the last year and a half, the Fleet cantina onboard Carrick Station had experienced a steadily-decreasing population. In times past, the place would have been filled with smugglers, mercenaries, off-duty soldiers, and Jedi passing through on Order (or personal) business; now most of those normal regulars had been killed or, in the case of the Jedi, driven into exile. Even the smugglers were fewer, with most of them having fallen to Zakuul’s harsh justice system or laying low to avoid said justice.

Theron knew the man he was looking to meet was still alive and kicking, having slipped through Zakuul’s fingers more than once already. Hopefully he wasn’t as afraid to show his face as the spy was currently dreading.

The dark-haired agent took a swallow from the bottle in front of him, the low burn of what claimed to be Corellian ale (but given how expensive such a luxury was nowadays, probably just a knock-off) lingering in the back of his throat. It was a self-medication that he’d turned to ever since the news of Darth Marr’s flagship being destroyed had reached his ears, with the confirmation of her death aboard it. Or had she been captured and taken to Zakuul for execution there? Reports conflicted. Either way, she was gone from the galaxy, her like to never be seen again, and the void in his heart that she’d left behind one that would never be filled.

The only thing that kept him from succumbing to the pain that threatened to consume him was the thought of revenge, or justice, or whatever the kriff one wanted to call it. But Theron knew not even he, in all of his grief-filled rage, could make Zakuul burn by himself for what they’d done. He needed help.

That help dropped into the booth across from him, once all cocky smiles and charismatic bravado, now hunched shoulders and dark lines under his eyes and grey showing up in his dark blond hair. Theron was willing to bet that the normally-laughing, prank-masterminding smuggler hadn’t so much as smiled since the news of his sister’s death. “You look like hell,” the newcomer quietly said by way of greeting, his voice low and rougher than Theron had grown accustomed to.

“So do you, Captain,” Theron answered the spacer, watching Korin Taerich flinch minutely. “Are you…”

“Okay?” Korin snorted bitterly. “My sister was killed by those sons of bitches from Wild Space. My little brother’s been killed by the Wrath- you know they found his mask in the wreck of what used to be his apartment? He never took that off in public, didn’t want to be identifiable without it...”

Theron nodded, remembering the surprisingly-young Darth Imperius, who looked and acted more like his older Jedi sister than any Sith would have expected. “He hated that thing, didn’t he?”

“Figures it’d be the only thing of his to…” Korin trailed off and gave the innocent table between himself and Theron a dark glare. “... And my father’s gone completely off the radar, no idea where the hell he is or if he’s even still alive an’ unless he contacts me, no way to know anythin’ about him. How the hell do you think I am?”

Theron had lost his lover. Korin had lost his sister, his brother, and possibly his father. The spy pushed over the still-unopened bottle of ale beside him. “Look like you could use this.”

“Thanks,” Korin mumbled as he accepted the bottle, cracked it open with a practiced twist of his wrist, and took a long drink from it. “You still look like shit.”

“Feel like it.” The words escaped Theron’s mouth before he could reign them in. Maybe his own drink had hit him harder than he’d thought, especially considering he wasn’t eating or sleeping more than the bare minimum to survive, now that he thought about it. “Nothing’s been right since she…”

Korin’s hazel eyes widened slightly. “You an’ her were-”

“We never talked about it,” Theron said quickly, and perhaps a bit too harshly. “We- I thought there’d be time to…” The pause was painful and made Theron’s throat ache with a cry of grief he couldn’t give voice to, not here, not now. 

“The son of a bitch on that gorram shiny throne’s gonna answer for this,” Korin finally growled, eyes flashing. “Dunno how, but I’m gonna kill him myself.”

“If I don’t first,” Theron muttered, hand tightening around his ale.

“... I take left side, you take right?”

“Works for me.”

“Good.” Korin took another swig of his drink. “Now we just gotta find a way to burn Zakuul to its own damn core. Any plans?”

“Not directly, but I do have a suggestion.” Theron hadn’t contacted Korin for a social call, after all. He reached under his jacket and pulled out a datapad. “You’re damn good at your job, you know.”

“I’m still here, ain’t I?” Korin scowled at his drink. “Besides, bein’ good at what they did didn’t save Xaja or Sorand from-” His sentence ended abruptly as pain flashed through his eyes, a pain Theron felt too well, something that couldn’t be helped with meds or kolto. “... Sorry.”

Theron’s shoulders slumped under his jacket as he focused very, very intently on his datapad. In a fair fight, Xaja should have won any fight that came her way, even against Emperor Arcann. Hell, she’d fought Vitiate and won before, hadn’t she? He took a moment to regain his composure (it wouldn’t do for him to break down here, of all places, with regret and mourning for Xaja Taerich consuming him so completely), then looked back at Korin when he felt marginally more stable. “Like I was saying- you’re good. Hell, you’re almost as good as me as a slicer, and I know you can smooth-talk your way onto Dromund Kaas of all places, maybe even Zakuul. And you’re Force-sensitive enough to be dangerous in all the right ways to the right people.”

“You didn’t yank me out here to stroke my ego, Shan. What is it?”

This was borderline treason against the Republic, depending who one talked to. Theron didn’t care. He pushed the datapad over the table at Korin. “I’m offering you a job.”

“What, with the SIS?”

“No. I need an asset who’s as good as me, on the same plan as me, and not tied to the Republic.” Theron took a deep breath, knowing the hell he would catch from the Director or his father if news of this got out. He’d just been reinstated not that long ago, too… but he didn’t care. “And somebody with a healthy regard for discretion… and who wants the same thing I do.”

“Arcann’s metallic head on a platter.” Korin lifted the datapad, reading Theron’s proposed offer. “You train me into bein’ your mini-me, send me out into the dark an’ nasty areas of space you can’t get to, an’ have me report directly back to you without your bosses gettin’ wind of this?”

“Essentially, yeah. I don’t think I need to say what’ll happen to me if this gets out.”

“Half surprised that schutta in the Senate didn’t try to have you excommunicated entirely after Ziost already.”

“Who says she didn’t?”

Korin snorted mirthlessly. “Hated that woman from the minute I first landed on Taris, way the hell back when.” He set the datapad down and met Theron’s eyes head-on. “When do I start?”

Theron blinked in surprise. “What, no bickering on the salary?” It wasn’t like Theron was exactly swimming in credits despite his workaholic tendencies, but he had enough to compensate Korin modestly for this… not that he’d ever known any career criminal like Korin to be satisfied with merely ‘modest’.

“For this? Revenge on Zakuul and a middle finger to Saresh?” Korin’s eyes glittered maliciously. “I’d do this for free. All I want out of this extra is a chance to kill Maglion for what he did to my brother. Bonus points if we can figure out where the kriff my father is.”

“Done. You see that opportunity, you take it. I’ll even help kill the bastard- not your father, obviously.”

“Think we got ourselves a deal then.” Korin reached across the table and shook Theron’s hand.

“Good. My place at 0800 tomorrow- coordinates are on the datapad.” For the first time since before Xaja was murdered and Zakuul invaded, Theron felt something approaching a smile on his face- that is, if the tightening of his mouth in a grim vengeance-promising expression could be called a smile. “This sounds like the start of a wonderful partnership, Captain.”

“Yeah, it’ll be good workin’ with ya again… for you? Whatever.”

“Technicalities we can bicker about later.” Theron raised a hand in farewell as Korin collected the datapad and strode out of the cantina, then turned his attention toward the bar again. Seeing his dead lover’s brother made his heart hurt again in a way that no Jedi training could banish. Besides, it wasn’t like Korin had never seen him hungover before…

Eight months later....

“Hey, so, deal’s changed a bit. I picked up a new crewmember- but he’s gold, and knows his shit. And snoopy as hell, too.”

Theron sighed and gave Korin a dark glare that was almost obscured by the Promenade’s shadows. “Remind me why I hired you again and called you out here?”

“Because I’m damn good, that’s why. Besides, you’ll like this guy. Best part is that nobody knows he exists.” Korin turned and waved to a tall, lanky-looking stranger in an alcove a few paces off, wearing lighter-styled Mandalorian armour and with a dark scarf wrapped around his head and face.

Something about the stride of the stranger hinted at familiarity to Theron, but he still scowled at Korin. “If you risked security for this guy, he’d better be better than me at my job, and more devoted to the cause.”

“Better than you? Hardly- well, not yet anyway.” The stranger lowered his scarf from his face, making Theron blink in shock. The accent was changed, now more Mandalorian than Imperial, and the eyes were dark brown and lined with dark bags underneath, and the hair was longer- hell, there was even a hint of scruffy facial hair. “But how does an ex-Sith with a vengeance pact for his sister sound?”

Theron stared numbly at the stranger for a long minute. “... You’re dead though,” he finally said. “The Wrath-”

“-Is known for brutality and fanatical devotion to Vitiate- not necessarily toward great strategic decisions. And I had enough advance warning of his intentions from my father to be able to fake my own death and escape.” Sorand Taerich shrugged and shot a quick glance around the Promenade. “Nobody knew my real name before my ascension, and nobody would recognize Darth Imperius without the mask, especially not in Mandalorian space.”

“Your wife’s Mandalorian…” Theron breathed out as the pieces came together.

“And scary as hell when she wants to be. She got me adopted into her clan, and I don’t even think her alor was going to argue with her on that.”

“I can believe it. I’ve met Shara.” Theron frowned. “But the body they found in your apartment…”

“A particularly disrespectful Acolyte who was unlucky enough to look like me. You probably don’t want to know what Revel and I did to him before leaving him as a stand-in.”

“... No, you’re right, I really don’t.” Theron shook his head and clapped Sorand’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you alive and intact.”

“It’s good to be alive and intact to watch my children grow up.” Sorand’s eyes turned fond at the thought of his offspring. “Cuyan was born just after I escaped, and Rav’s three years old now.”

“Never would have thought a Sith could be such a doting parent, right?” Korin asked Theron with a grin. Such expressions were still rare from the spacer, but they were coming more often now. The restoration of his brother had done a great deal to heal his heart after the loss of his entire family, apparently.

Sorand rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to the uncle who’s on a set mission to spoil both my kids rotten.” He paused and looked at the durasteel plating under the three men, sorrow tangible even to Theron. “Xaja would have loved them…”

It was a perfect segway into Theron’s news. “I spoke with Lana a few days ago,” he started, watching both of Xaja’s brothers perk up attentively. “She’s been in contact with some Zakuulans whose sympathies do not lie with Arcann.” He hesitated for only a second. “Your sister might still be alive, frozen in carbonite in the Spire.”

Two sets of eyes, one hazel and one brown, widened in shock and a mirror of the same renewed hope that had invaded Theron’s heart the second Lana had told him that. And with that, the group of people in on the plans to rescue the Jedi prisoner from carbonite captivity doubled.

[rainofaugustsith]

Rain Plays SWTOR: Macrobinoculars Solo (most of it) - Imperial Pt. 1

Buoyed by Viri's success soloing the Seeker Droid questline, I decided to tackle the Macrobinoculars.  Please note: THE END OF THIS MISSION IS STILL NOT SOLOABLE. There is apparently one sequence in the final H4 where you need several people to click all the panels. However, the rest is soloable. If you want some challenging gameplay or something new to do in the game, there's still a lot to do here without tackling the final H4.  Also note that even if you do not finish the final H4, as long as you do NOT abandon the quest, you can keep using your macrobinoculars. In fact, you can do that as soon as you pick them up in the beginning of the quest line. There are other quests and achievements you can do with the macrobinoculars, such as scanning all the MCR-99 droids on each planet, scanning the temples you can see from the Yavin 4 stronghold and doing GSI dailies on several worlds. 

If you enjoy puzzles, you will love this questline. If not, there are thankfully several guides that can walk you through each puzzle. If you remember one thing, it's that everything can be a trap, you need to check the walls, ceilings and anything around for clues/clickables to proceed, and the solution that appears straightforward probably is not.  Once again, I defer to Dulfy for walkthroughs and videos on how to beat the puzzles, and give you additional suggestions.  This is Part I of the guide, and it is specific for Imperial-side players.  Your first task with the macrobinoculars is to scan the Shroud's monitoring devices around the galaxy. It's far easier than the Dread Seeds search. If you've played the Ziost daily area, the Ossus daily area or some of the Onderon quests, you've already used macrobinoculars.  If this is your first time with the macrobinoculars- right click to activate the binoculars (they are in your mission items tab. You can also drag them to a quickbar, which is a good idea to get to them quickly). Once you activate the binoculars, you can scroll around to survey the area. Targets that are scannable will light up yellow. Left click to zoom in and scan. Click again to zoom out. ESC to put away your binoculars. 

You’ll start by being asked to scan several locations marked on your map. Move your camera around until you see a yellow blinking item (it may or may not look like the example) and then zoom in to scan.  Dromund Kaas - scanning - QT to Tempest. One objective is down at the Unfinished Colossus and the other is on one of the nearby lightning spires. - QT to the Spaceport.  - QT to the Nexus Room cantina, and then walk over to the launchpad for the nearby taxi. You'll get a good view from there.  Shroud of Ruin temple How to get there: Pick up the Shadow Spawn heroic and use the provided shuttle/QT. The temple you need is all the way in the back of that heroic area. There are a few jumps to get to the right level of the temple but they aren't too bad overall. There's no threat of death or even damage if you fall and have to try again. 

There are only two obstacles in this temple but the first can be frustrating. After you click a rock on the ceiling (mouse around to find it), some of the grids will periodically blink off and on (this is very slow- they don’t blink rapidly, if that is a concern. They go off, stay off for a few beats and then go back on). Make your way through the grid to get to the other side without touching the lasers. Touching the lasers is insta-death. Fortunately the respawn point/ medical droid is just upstairs from the grid so you don't have far to go if you get zapped. Tips: 1. Send your companion away. Put them on a crafting mission for ten minutes or so. They will not be able to follow you through the grid at your pace, so they'll just hit one of the lasers and die.  2. No fancy jumps, no rocket boost, no flair. Do NOT get too close to the lasers, and watch where you are running and jumping. 3. In some places, only one or two lines of the grid will flicker off. Be really careful walking through.  4. Once you finish the maze, you can turn it off completely by smashing the console you will see, but it’s really not necessary because you are almost done. It’s still cathartic to smash it.  

The droid you have to face at the end of the hallway should be a snap. It's a garden variety NPC that doesn't seem much more complicated than the average silver, and he's on his own.  You will then be sent off to scan targets on two more planets.  Ambush Warning:  After scanning targets on any of the planets from this point onward, you may be ambushed. It could be a droid and an enemy NPC that is found on that planet (rakghouls on Taris; a Wampa on Hoth). It could also be a gold-level droid, IR-77. I don't think it's a jump scare, but it's very sudden, so I'll mention it here. 

Taris scanning: 

- QT to 75th Legion Forward Camp. - QT to Crater Command Base. You can get to both of the targets in Olaris from here.  - QT to Toxic Lake Garrison. This is the base you start at when you land on Taris so you shouldn't need to QT there, but it has a quick travel point in case you've done the others first.  Tatooine scanning:  A few of the target points are challenging to get to for Imperial players.  - Mos Ila, relatively close to the taxi. There's a QT point there if you need it.  - QT to Outpost Varath or Outpost Rennar, it's about halfway between the two, near the area with the Tusken Raiders and Mandalorian corpses.  - QT to Mos Anek. Very close to the Lady of Pain area from the Bounty Hunter's class story.  - QT to Outpost Zaroche. Unfortunately, the next target is in the Outlaw's Den. There's no way to see it from outside this area. I've read more than once that if you are on the PvE server, nobody can hurt you in the Outlaw's Den. Your companion will go away, but there's apparently no PvP. Still, I have had no way to confirm this firsthand, so I'd get in and out.  - From there, continue through the Outlaw's Den to the north side and follow the road (filled with hostile NPCs unfortunately) to the mining company for the northernmost target.  - QT to Ridgeside Sentry Post. You have a ways to go from here, but it's the closest Imperial travel point. Take the righthand road north at the fork. The lefthand side is more straightforward but goes through an area with a lot of Twin Suns enemy NPCs. The target is under the rock bridge near the Twin Suns.  Quesh scanning: Quesh is small enough that you don't have to travel long to get just about anywhere, but here are the QT points in case you need them.  - QT to Imperial Garrison OR Imperial Outpost. The target is about halfway between them in an area where a lot of the Imperial Quesh quests happen.  - QT to Imperial Outpost.  - From the second target, you will see a very small dotted line path that goes through a power plant. The first section has Republic hostile NPCs but the second section is friendly. This will take you to the other side of the map to get the third target.

Scratch the Surface - Quesh How to get there: As Dulfy notes, the map may be bugged. This is the map I got. As you see, the entrance is indicated all the way over on the far right. It's not there. QT back to the Imperial Garrison. The map should change. You need to climb the hill just outside the Garrison and follow the narrow, maze-like path through the stone walls to reach the instanced area. 

Wrong map: 

Here is the CORRECT map. 

Once inside, remember everything is a trap and the solution usually is not straight combat or avoidance. There's always something clickable around that will help you get past each obstacle. 

To throw the fruit at the Lurker, click on the gate panel.  The key to getting past this electrified floor is to hit the panels on the ceiling that light up as clickables. After that, the floor will still electrify, but in a very predictable order. 

This is the only panel on the first section of grid that will not be electrified. It's easy to spot because of the debris on it. Follow the electricity's pattern so you know when it's clear to run. Once you're there, mouse around the ceiling again for the second clickable panel.

This is the panel on the second section of the grid that is not electrified. Again, it's easy to spot because there's stuff on it. After this, you will need to follow the pattern of the electricity and make a break for the hallway. 

You need to shut down the grid to proceed. However, if you step on the platform, you'll get shocked. Walk around the room to the back, where you will see a way to get under the panel. DO NOT WALK ON IT YET. Mouse around and you will find there's a panel that is clickable. Clicking on it will cut the electricity on the floor, allow you to walk in and shut down the second panel. Now you can go on the platform and shut down the grid.  Pictured is STEP THREE. Do not go on this platform until you cut the power from underneath!

Then, it’s off for more scanning.  Corellia - The first two are close to the spaceport and Incorporation Islands QT point.  - QT to Axial Park South.  - QT to Imperial Central Command (two are here) Hoth  - Very close to Dorn Outpost, where you start out on Hoth. - QT to Thesh Outpost.  - QT to Imperial Garrison.  - QT to Jagged Hills Imperial Garrison, which is the northernmost Imperial travel point. From there, go left until you get to the Drift Hills Republic base and then north along the path. It's close to Republic Aurek Base.  - From the point above, go to the right on the marked path. You want to be heading toward Outpost Cresh. When the road has a fork on the righthand side, take that, going south. The point you're looking for is under one of the bridges. 

- QT to Frostwake Outpost and then go to the Starship Graveyard.  - QT to Leth Outpost. It's very close to the base.  Belsavis - QT to Imperial Frontline Camp.  - QT to one of the outposts close to the Rakatan Transport network (Frontline Camp and Imperial Deep Launchpoint both work). Take the Rakatan Transport to the Imperial Power Center Transport.  - From the point above, after you scan, go right back to the Rakatan Transporter. Take it to the Lower Prison Magma Transport stop. Follow the circular path to the Tomb and then find your path to the target from there. You want to do the Lower Prison Magma Transport target scan last because it will place you in just the right area for the next part of the questline. 

[reallystellacadente]

1-3, 6, and 9?

1. How many characters do you have? 22 on Ebon Hawk and something like 50 across all servers. I acknowledge that I have a problem, yes. 

2. What is your favorite class and why? And/or list the player classes in order of most -> least favorite. 

1. Sith Warrior favorite, hands down, 25/8/367. This one does it for me in all the ways and not just Because Quinn but ngl, that’s a big reason. Most interesting romance, however you choose to play it. And the end scene of the class story is just the best. Also my favorite play style, both adv. classes are love. 

I like all the classes, storywise, tbh.The rest, sort of in order: 

2. Imperial Agent – I love spy shit, Vector and all the different ways to play the story. Love the play style, too. 

3. Inquisitor/Jedi Knight – tied. Inquisitor is, I must say, the most unique story, the most likely to make a great movie or novelization. Also love to play. Though I still lovingly remember being a Sorc when everyone hated on us for being OP. Jedi Knight is a bit like SW just clunkier, playwise, but give me two lightsabers and the ability to jump on shit and I am happy as a clam. 

4. Smuggler – A fun story, I think I might have finally made a toon I feel could actually be in a romance with Corso. But I have yet to find a spec/play style I don’t loathe. It’s just me, I know. 

5. Bounty Hunter – Good story, good romance, good playstyle altho I’m just now playing a Merc for first time. 

6. Trooper – I don’t hate the story, actually, although it’s a bit repetitive and times when I want to scream at BioWare for getting military life, even in the GFFA, so wrong when it would have been easy to get it right. I love military stories so I really wish this one would have been perfect. Assault cannon attacks are so out of control, tho. 

7. Consular – Story is all over the place, feels like outtakes from the Jedi Knight as KOTOR3 story. But I adore my rock-throwing Barsen’thor and hope to some day raid Pubside with her. One day I hope to rewrite the consular story. 

3. Do you prefer to tank, DPS, or heal? DPS is my favorite. I just love to stomp around with my lightsabers. It makes me feel fearless. I also enjoy healing, though I’ve only done it full time on my Operative. I have only tanked a few times on heroics back in the H4 days; I really am not confident enough to pug an op. Maybe someday I’ll sign up with my guild’s ops training runs on a tank.

6. Do you primarily play Republic, Empire, or a mix of both sides? Is there a specific reason for this preference? Mostly Imp side. It just feels more exciting, more focused. A guildie who was in beta speculated that Pubside was designed first (makes sense given the origin of the game) but by the time they got to the Impside, they said FUCK IT LET’S NOT MAKE IT SO LONG AND DIFFICULT FOR NO REASON and it was better. I mean Pubside Corellia planetary questline is brutal. The Pubside heroics on Balmorra are a hot gooey mess, esp the collicoid ones. I could do the Impside ones in my sleep, tho. 

9. How about your least favorite companions? [just my opinions, I do not ship shame or piss on other ppl’s faves, so YMMV is my rule.] Aside from Skadge, I don’t dislike any of them vehemently. There are a few WTFs and just “personalities my toon and/or I can’t get along with” though. 

Doc is Doc and not the kind of man I ever want to have in my life on purpose. The fact that he looks way too much like my ex-husband does not help, lol. 

Ashara never meshed with my All Dark Side Sorc, but I have an all light side assassin – she’s level 61 and just started Alderaan, so maybe someday she’ll make it to Taris and we’ll see. Her story is great, don’t get me wrong. The real pebble in the boot with Ashara is what she says during gameplay. “I won’t give up my Jedi teachings” or whatever, six times in a row when you are a most Extra Sith is hella annoying. 

I’ve said many times Pierce disappoints in a number of ways; he never meshed with Xhareen but she respects him as a colleague, just not as a friend. 

I love Risha’s story, but not I’m keen on her personality. Thing is, I wouldn’t change it. She’s well done. 

There are a few who just are there, like furniture, like Tharan Cedrax (altho his personal story gets better); Tanno only works for a DS soldier, or if you go bad later on – not that that wouldn’t be interesting!; Rusk is just boring and could have been better written and Forex’s jingoism is just OUT THERE TONE IT DOWN BRAH. 

[shimmersing]

Queued

Characters: Erithon Zale, Republic Trooper; Aitahea Daviin, Jedi Consular; Elara Dorne; respective Trooper & Consular crewmembers.

Setting: The Trooper’s Ship, Triumph Rising, immediately prior to Corellia

Spoilers: Through Chapter 3

Summary: Cut off from communications and distractions while in hyperspace, Erithon finds himself penning a desperate missive to a certain Jedi… but does he have the courage to send it? Meanwhile, the Barsen’thor considers the larger ramifications of her personal decisions, and even the Force brings no comfort.

Notes: Solidly inspired by Lauv’s “i’m so tired…” and thank you to @taraum for beta-reading. <3

“I’m so tired of love songs,” Erithon muttered, muting the crackling audio and flipping the datapad to the end of his bunk. They were en route to Corellia, open war calling Havoc to the front lines. Everything was a disaster.

Erithon snatched up the datapad again. “Thanks but no thanks, Galactic Top Forty,” he grumbled, scrolling through the limited music they’d picked up while in orbit over Voss. Being both isolated and neutral, the list of updates from the Core was woefully small.

Once in hyperspace, Erithon and his crew had found themselves with several hours to kill before reaching Corellia. Havoc was doing their usual routines to prep for a challenging mission: Elara & Aric having a pleasant argument about regulations, Yuun meditating or researching, Vik had taken up trying to teach Forex to play sabaac (strangely, the droid couldn’t seem to outwit the Weequay after two weeks; Vik was of course cheating).

Erithon had promised Elara he’d try to sleep.

[AO3 flavor found here.]

But every little noise the Triumph Rising made as she careened through hyperspace got on Erithon’s last nerve, conjuring visions of impossible stray hyperspace garbage tearing his ship to pieces, or dropping out of hyperspace out to find Corellia in Imperial hands and his allies in the hands of-

Augh, stop it.

So he turned on the only music he could find in the datapad’s drive, something months old already, never listened to. A young man opined about love songs, perhaps a statement on the music business more than his actual love life.

It was something Aitahea had recommended, laughing that she had a youngling’s taste in music, but she had been raised in Jedi enclaves after all. Of course that was ridiculous because despite saying that, she’d sent him everything from a rare recording of the Cathedral of Winds to some cantina band off Tattooine.

Her galaxy seemed so expansive, so engaging, and he had somehow found a place in it. He wasn’t about to let that go just because the war was back on and the Core Worlds were fracturing and-

He saw the messages icon out of the corner of his eye, blinking in electronic frustration when it couldn’t connect to the holonet feed, interrupted as they were in hyperspace.

A message.

Why not? He wasn’t sleeping, so he might as well make the most of his time.

***

Listen.

I love you.

I should have told you on Voss. By the Core I should have told you on Alderaan if I’m being either honestly stupid or stupidly honest, probably both. I’m not sappy enough to take “love at first sight” seriously, and I don’t think you are, either. But we’re living out some old fairytale here, don’t you think?  

I’m sorry I kissed you on Nar Shaddaa. No, I mean, I’m not. I mean, I took advantage of our position. But then you kissed me back, and then you were mad about that, and it was a screw up, but I can’t bring myself to regret it.

I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you on Voss. You have never failed to give everything for everyone, no matter who they are. From the moment we met - on Taris I mean, not to mention when we were kids but that’s a whole other message to be honest.

I don’t remember giving anyone permission to write me as the love interest in a holodrama. Where was I?

Every time we meet somehow you end up in my arms, and I haven’t stopped feeling thrilled when I find you there again. I’ve seen you take your gloves off when you see me coming. Not for your crew, not for mine, not for the damn Jedi Council or the Chancellor. Me.

So on Voss there you were in my arms again and for a minute I thought you were dying, and I couldn’t tell you I loved you and that there was so much that I did and didn’t regret saying and doing. For you. With you.

And Corellia will probably kill us so I needed you to know. I’m okay if we can’t be together, I can accept that, and I’m not sure what I’ve done in this life to deserve someone like you anyway.

You told me once we found each other when we needed the other most. I have never needed, wanted, anything more in my entire life than you. It’s complicated, I know, but if we somehow survive this I promise it’ll be worth it.

See you soon.

***

Erithon pushed send.

Fuck.

He punched at the screen a few times, frowned, and then his eyes went wide. “Wait. The relay. Wait.”

This is bad very bad but there’s maybe a chance-

Erithon skidded out of his quarters and through the ship looking for Dorne.

“Elara!” he called, fighting to keep his voice even. The medic appeared in the doorway of the med bay alone, eyes still on her datapad. Erithon exhaled explosively, relieved. “Hey, Elara, can you delete a message from the hyperspace relay queue?”

Dorne dropped her “Per regulations, sir, I’m not allowed, it would have to be you or Jorgan. I can only-”

“Fine, permission granted, whatever, can you do it? You have the helm, so I’m locked out of messaging administration.”

“Are you off duty then, sir? I can only return you to service after you’ve rested the allotted period, and it’s only-” Dorne paused to glance at her chrono and Erithon took the opportunity to interrupt the fastidious officer again.

“Elara, it was to Aitahea.”

Dorne’s face went deathly still for a moment before she recovered her usual aplomb. “I take your meaning, sir. Give me a few moments.”

Dorne rushed back into the med bay while Erithon paced the room a few times. He looked at an old analogue chrono on the wall (when had they gotten that?) and watched the seconds tick by. How long had it been? When were they due to drop out of hyperspace?

“Sir?”

Erithon jumped at Elara’s soft query, wrapped tight in his thoughts. “Yeah?”

“It’s taken care of, sir.” Elation clasped her hands in front of her, flustered. “Yes, sir.” She pauses for a moment, gathering her courage. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Of course,” Erithon replied, distracted by relief.

“Sir, we all adore Master Aitahea. Even Vik, I think. And we can see that…” Elara shifted awkwardly. “She’s important to you. We understand if that means things here have to change.”

Erithon turned to look at his medical officer with hollow eyes. “I can’t get an answer out of her, Elara. And now we’re in open war, it just can’t be. She’s a Jedi.”

“Sir, I’ve actually studied the Jedi recently. It’s rare for them to establish romantic relationships, but not completely unheard of. They have some regulations, not dissimilar to our own.”

Erithon chuckled. “Five credits you know what forms are required from memory.”

“It’s form number fourteen hundred thirty-two A for the ranking officer and number fourteen hundred thirty-seven B for the lower rank, unless one isn’t in the-”

“Thanks, Elara, I get the point.”

“The Barsen’thor technically outranks you, sir.”“Elara.”

The woman sighed. “Sorry, sir.” She turned back towards the medbay, giving her a sidelong glance, a mix of pity and concern. “Page me if you need anything, sir.”

“Yeah.” Erithon missed her pointed expression, back to exploring his snarled feelings.