#the second one is the ziost station

[serenxanthe]

After Ziost, a SWTOR Story

Part One: In which Theron is thoughtless and self-obsessed after Ziost.

(He will regret it in Part Two, and even more in Part Three)

Quick background note on my OC Jedi Knight; she's a former Sith who defects after her Warrior training on Korriban, tired of hiding her Lightside nature. After dutifully completing her Knight training on Tython, she heads to Coruscant on The Esseles, where she saves the ship with the help of one Theron Shan. They've been together(ish) ever since - well, nobody said she was always a good Jedi!

Seren strode through the Imperial space station orbiting Ziost, her red cloak swirling behind her, Scourge at her side. Scourge was masked to conceal his identity as the former Emperor’s Wrath; he had been a well-known face among the people who now considered him the worst kind of traitor.

Dressed in the Sith armour and wielding the red-bladed lightsabres she had been forced to use during her time as the Emperor’s puppet on his cloaked fortress, her hair braided into a long rope rather than her usual multiple braids, and of course using her real voice rather than her Republic accent, still faked after all these years, Seren hadn’t been recognised as the Hero of Tython, the Jedi Battlemaster. 

She wasn’t happy about the attire or the attitude she was having to project to pass as Sith, but Seren was enjoying not having to fake her accent and adjust her speech patterns. It was surprisingly relaxing. She wondered idly if she could stop once she left the Jedi Order. That was all still up in the air as far as she knew. Seren had been stunned when Satele had named her Battlemaster in the aftermath of Yavin IV. Satele knew that she intended to leave the Order once the situation with the former Sith Emperor’s spirit, or essence, had been dealt with. 

Theron congratulated her publicly of course, as did everyone else, but she saw his eyes slide angrily to his mother’s face. He suspected Satele of trying to manipulate Seren into staying in the Order and giving up their relationship, he’d told her later, when they were alone. Seren didn’t for one second agree with him, but she hadn't known how to go about persuading him when her argument hinged on the fact that she knew his mother substantially better than he did, and they hadn’t had time for the whole can of emotional worms that would open up.

After the defeat of Revan, Seren and Theron had headed off to their Temple and Headquarters respectively to discuss next steps in the fight against what was left of the Emperor, with only a few hours of downtime to spend together on Yavin IV before they did so. Obviously they’d spent most of that time in bed rather than talking, incapable as always of demonstrating any level of self-restraint. And this time Seren was concerned that there had been… unintended consequences. 

They had had even less time alone on Ziost, certainly not enough to discuss what to do about that, so Seren hadn’t said anything, focussing on the fight, and now Theron was gone; he’d headed back to Tython to take Master Surro and the other surviving Sixth Line Jedi, including Masters Onok and Landai, to be healed after their ordeal as the Emperor’s puppets. Seren felt desperately sorry for them of course, and she knew exactly how they felt, their bodily autonomy violated, forced to kill instead of rescue. She hadn’t been able to suppress a stab of hurt however, as Theron walked away from her without a moment’s hesitation after the events at the People’s Tower, supporting Surro.

Why had he even gone to Surro instead of Seren when he wanted to infiltrate Ziost anyway? She was his girlfriend and he’d kept secrets from her, she hadn’t even known about the Sixth Line, let alone the fact that Theron was working with them, had developed such a close, trusting, relationship with their leaders. Her professional pride was wounded too. Had Theron forgotten that she was uniquely suited to this type of mission? Not only could she easily pass as Sith; but also, having broken free of the Emperor’s control once before, she was much less likely to fall under his influence than any Jedi other than perhaps Kira.

Seren felt no satisfaction that his secrecy and reliance on the Sixth Line had been disastrous, only grief for the dead and tortured Jedi. She hadn’t been able to save all the possessed Jedi she’d fought. She’d dragged or lured as many as she could to generators or electricity towers to overload and shock them, but some had attacked her nowhere near anything she could use, and she’d been forced to kill them. 

She wasn’t jealous of Surro exactly, Seren didn’t think for one moment that there was anything romantic or sexual between her and Theron; but the fact he had felt that Surro was better suited to do whatever Theron had been trying to do on Ziost than she was? That hurt. As did the sight of her boyfriend walking away from her without a backward glance, his arm around Surro.

Her thoughts were circling around on themselves, clearly, and Seren sighed audibly. “Is there a problem, J… My Lord?” Scourge asked her, the ‘My Lord’ uttered through gritted teeth. “No problem.” she snapped at him, her tone convincingly imperious. She felt his approval at her shortness and tone of voice, and that made her sigh again. She needed to get off this space station and away from Imperial Space before this charade became way too comfortable.

Lana had gone too, heading back to Dromund Kass to brief the Dark Council on the events on Ziost. Their last interaction had been somewhat acrimonious. Lana had wanted to study Surro and the other surviving Sixth Line to learn more about the Emperor’s connection with his puppets. Seren had refused to even consider it, telling Theron to take them to Tython. Lana had argued, clearly angry, but hadn’t tried to do anything more than that to stop them. Why had the Minister of Sith Intelligence, a powerful Force-user in her own right, deferred to two Republic officials on an Imperial core world? 

Seren thought back to her and Lana’s first meeting, first as adults at any rate.  They had been in the Manaan office suite Theron had hired for them to operate out of while chasing the Revanite conspirators.  That was now well over a year ago, she realised. Back then, their relationship had been more equal. If anything Seren was in effect subordinate to Lana, and, professionally at least, to Theron; just the muscle to get things done as the two spies orchestrated the campaign against the Revanites. When had things changed? When did Lana and Theron start deferring to her? Accepting her decisions as definitive? When had she become the de facto leader in their fight against the former Sith Emperor?

Seren was still here on Ziost days after the other two had left. She wasn’t completely sure why. She headed down to the planet from the space station several times a day to coordinate rescue and evacuation efforts, ensuring as many people as possible escaped the Emperor’s control and if possible the planet. People. Imperial people, both civilians and military. Her enemies.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to see the conflict, or rather war, between the Republic and Empire in the black and white terms that had characterised most of her career as a Jedi thus far. She recognised that the Republic had numerous faults and flaws, but she still emphatically believed that it was infinitely better than the Empire. That hadn’t changed. But the cooperation between themselves and Lana, and then eventually between Satele and Marr’s forces, felt better; more right, more comfortable, than endless war. 

On Yavin IV she saw Imperial troops and Sith develop newfound respect for the bravery and professionalism of the Jedi and Republic forces, and in return, she saw Republic troops finally begin to realise that citizens of the Empire were people in the same way that they were; with hopes, dreams and fears of their own. She saw the gratitude on the faces of the Imperial Reclamation Service every time a Republic soldier carefully handed them an ancient Sith relic for study rather than unthinkingly throwing it into a pile as part of a defensive barricade.

Was that why she was still here? Or was it the guilt? Scourge believed that her momentary hesitation over killing the Emperor when she defeated him on Dromund Kass had allowed his spirit, or essence, to escape. Was that true? Had that split second of inaction directly caused the loss of life on Ziost? 

Seren mentally shook herself and tried to focus on the task at hand rather than fruitless introspection over the events of years ago. She and Scourge had their gear repaired by the space station’s resident armourer, then prepared to make their way back down to the planet’s surface. As they headed for a shuttle, there was a sudden power cut. The space station shuddered and groaned alarmingly, before the emergency power kicked in and the lights and stabilisers came back online.

Seren rushed to a console to check the status of Ziost below them, and saw to her horror the inexorable tide of death sweep across the planet; every living thing still on the surface turned to ash in minutes. She and Scourge looked at each other; even with his face masked she could sense his consternation, and something almost like horror. The Emperor may have blunted and dulled Scourge’s emotions, but they were still in there, somewhere, even if he couldn’t access them.

Neither of them had any doubt that this was the Emperor’s doing. What he’d tried to do on Belsavis, Voss, then Corellia; Seren and Scourge thwarting him at every turn, he had finally succeeded at, and on one of his own core worlds. The Emperor had destroyed Ziost, syphoning the life out of it to fuel his own diabolical power. 

Seren thought about the last dead planet she’d seen from orbit, Uphrades; destroyed by Imperial forces at the behest of Darth Angral in revenge for his son’s death. That had been no more her fault than this was. Terrible people making horrifically immoral decisions. She had always done her best to do the right thing, and she stood by her decisions. She could mourn the deaths of innocents and mostly-innocents without feeling guilt. Usually.

Wait. Uphrades. There had, incredibly, been survivors down there. Seren looked at Scourge and told him that she was heading down to the planet’s surface to check for survivors, given that the sensors must have been fried during the event that had just taken place. 

Scourge ground out a token objection, surely the Jedi could sense that there was nobody left alive down there? But he knew it was fruitless, as always, and they headed down on the next departing shuttle.

Seren stood on the surface minutes later, dust and emotion choking her throat. Being down here, the horrible wound in the Force was assaulting her senses; the imprint of the last few terrified seconds of life the inhabitants had had before the cataclysm overtook them. It hadn’t been instantaneous, they had had time to feel fear, to try and run. Billions of people. Seren leant against Scourge, her head against his huge arm as he towered over her. He may have been ‘full of awful’ as Doc had put it back on the cloaked fortress as Scourge helped them flee, but he was comfortingly familiar to her now, nearly three years later. She felt Scourge flinch in surprise, but he let her remain there, his body relaxing.

Seren had a sudden awful realisation; Theron. The space station orbiting Ziost was still fully up and running, and therefore the news of the destruction of Ziost would be all over Imperial channels by now. And she knew that the SIS, and by extension Theron, would have intercepted and analysed their transmissions, encrypted as they were. He must be absolutely beside himself, terrified that she had been on the planet during the cataclysm. She grabbed her communicator; no signal. Of course not, the event had knocked out the transceivers on the surface.

Scourge looked down at Seren, still leaning against him as she clutched her useless communicator, staring at it. “Shall we go, Jedi?” he rumbled at her, “There’s no more we can do here.” Seren nodded at him gratefully and they headed back to the shuttle.

Back on the space station, they headed straight for the Defender’s airlock; there really was nothing more they could do for Ziost now. Before they jumped to lightspeed to head back to Carrick Station, Seren insisted on trying Theron’s frequency, firstly from her own communicator, then from the Defender’s communications array when there was no answer.

T7 informed her that he thought that Theron was on another call from his communicator, which was why Seren’s calls weren’t getting through. Seren nodded with relief; that would make sense. Theron must have tried to get through to her inactive communicator when she’d been down on the surface of Ziost, and was now probably calling all his contacts to see if they could confirm whether she’d made it off the planet before its destruction. He must be frantic with worry, Seren thought, feeling awful that she’d put him through this. Seren couldn’t decide whether to keep trying him, or jump straight to lightspeed; getting back to the Republic Fleet as soon as possible. She eventually decided on the latter.

As soon as the Defender docked after the day’s travel to Carrick Station, Seren rushed to the SIS outpost alone; she knew both she and Theron were going to be emotional and neither of them would want an audience for their reunion. As she arrived in Theron’s office almost at a run, she saw he was on a holocall. With Satele. Of course. He was thanking her for something, his voice heartfelt with gratitude. 

He turned to see her, and Seren expected him to rush across the room, sweep her into his arms with relief, like he had after she’d been in danger on Manaan and Rakata Prime. Instead, Theron told her, “That was Satele, Surro is recovering.” 

Seren stared at him, nonplussed. “That’s great news, Theron.” she eventually found her voice to say. “What about Onok and Landai? And the others?” she asked. 

“I er, I’m not sure. Satele didn’t say.” Theron said awkwardly.

He hadn’t asked Satele about them, Seren realised, even more nonplussed. Belatedly, Theron crossed the room to greet her properly, but his movements were unhurried, and he seemed distracted. He put a casual arm around her shoulder and kissed her forehead briefly, before stepping back to speak to her.

“I lost my job.” he told her. “Saresh forced Director Trant’s hand, I’m sure. He shook his head, “I probably shouldn’t even be here in my office.” He grimaced and corrected himself, “My former office.”

“Theron, I’m so sorry about your job, but about Ziost…” Seren began.

Theron grimaced again, “I know. I heard. We managed to evacuate some of the Republic personnel, but we lost a hell of a lot of people. I know I made a bad situation worse with the Sixth Line, and I’ll never forgive myself for what happened to h… them. But this is on Saresh. Saresh and her snake Kovach.”

Seren said nothing. She didn’t want to have to beg her own boyfriend to care about what had almost happened to her, and she wasn’t great at dealing with Theron when he was like this. Spiky, defensive, and full of wounded pride. It reminded her of how he was with her towards the end of their time together on Coruscant, and when they’d first run into each other again on Taris.

A wave of bone aching fatigue swept over her and she was reminded that she needed to talk to him about that too. She stared at him, not knowing where to start. She wanted to ask him to come with her, be with her, full time; rather than the snatched periods of weeks or occasionally months they’d had together over the years. But the way he was looking at her, or rather through her, made voicing that idea seem ludicrous. 

Instead she said, “Join me on the Defender? I could use your skills on my crew.” As soon as she said it Seren realised she could hardly have put it worse, and she wasn’t surprised when Theron’s facial expression changed from blank introspection to angry reproach. 

“I’m sure you could!” Theron said hotly. “But I’m not your… sidekick!”

Seren opened her mouth to explain what she’d really meant to say, but Theron continued, talking over her. “The SIS is part of my identity, it’s who I am! I’m not giving up on it.”

“I know, Theron, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… Listen, can we talk? The cantina here, or the VIP Lounge?

He shook his head, “I can’t now, I’m sorry, I need to get to Coruscant. Maybe if I can get in to see Trant face to face, I can persuade him…” 

Theron was back inside his own head again, Seren realised; there was no point in trying to push him further, no matter how much it hurt to leave things like this. They weren’t breaking up; he almost certainly still loved her, she just… wasn’t his priority right now, for whatever reason or reasons. Seren swallowed and said, “Ok Theron, another time maybe.” She tried to keep her tone neutral.

Theron suddenly seemed to notice her again and stepped towards her. He bent his head to kiss her with a little bit of his usual affection and passion. As they broke the kiss Seren looked up at him, and his gaze was softer, almost warm as he met her eyes, and her heart lifted with hope that they’d be ok. But then he stepped back, and without another word walked away from her, leaving her behind in his old office.

Seren looked at his retreating back, but said nothing, determined not to beg him for further scraps of affection when his current focus was clearly as far away from her and their relationship as it was possible for it to be.

Unexpectedly he stopped in the doorway, and not fully turning around to look at her said, “But I won’t make the same mistake in future. That I made with Ziost, I mean. Next time something happens you’ll be the first person I come to. I won’t leave it until it’s almost too late ever again.”

He turned again and left before Seren could reply. At least he’d salved her own wounded professional pride a bit, she thought, even if his own was making him behave like an absolutely terrible boyfriend right now. She sighed, she’d have plenty of time to talk to him later no doubt, it wasn’t like her current issue was going away any time soon.

[the-chavoi-legacy]

another handful of gifs of pretty planets bc this is all i’m capable of these days

[synoxshots]

In ashes

Ziost was gone. His home. Reduced to nothing in mere seconds by the man he'd sworn to serve.

Reflections on a world lost.

Cross-posted to AO3

He was a child here.

Those were memories that never quite felt like his own, rose-tinted fragments of joy and laughter, of warmth and love and smiling faces. Memories that were flimsy, papering over the cracks and connections he could see now with an adult's mind, of suspicious disappearances and meetings that could easily be shrugged off in the wide-eyed innocence of youth. Memories that should belong to someone else, someone who could cherish them for what they were, rather than be forced to deny whatever shred of comfort they were supposed to bring.

Each time he stepped onto Ziost those memories came flooding back, breaking down the barriers he'd spent so long constructing. A planet that was a testament to history, filled with monuments to the great Sith Lords of times gone by, reminders of the Empire's glory through past and present. But steeped in his own past, too: the streets he walked with his parents in the days before everything changed; the neighbourhood he'd been forced to flee; the family shame he'd been running from all the way to the title of Wrath.

But now all of that was gone. Crumbled into the dust of a barren landscape, along with the lost souls of the citizens who never had the chance to scream. Lives had been lived here, but now that was all they were. History. Memories. Held by those lucky enough to remain, if lucky was the right word to describe bearing witness to the destruction of millions, of carrying the burden of being from a world now lost.

Emyr bore witness more closely than most, unable to do more than stand and stare from the orbital station as Vitiate made clear the futility of all their combined efforts to stop him. Given the prime position to watch, powerless, for the seconds it took for all life to be wiped from the planet he called home. Others turned away, shielding themselves once they realised the horror unfolding before them. But he couldn't grant himself that luxury, forcing himself to watch with an expression unmoving, not betraying the agony of the force howling around him. His duty, to all who could not join him.

Maybe watching was supposed to prepare him for what awaited when he landed on the planet again. Or maybe that was just a foolish thought. Witnessing the horror didn't stop the dread from creeping through his body, a nausea starting deep in the pit of his stomach until it erupted in shivers over his skin. The force was fractured, bleeding, screaming in his ears, a ringing he couldn't escape from.

Yet Ziost itself was silent, too silent. The familiar hum of the planet had gone, all those sounds that marked a world vibrant and filled with life. No buzz of conversation, of the hustle and bustle of city life, none of the purposeful footsteps of important people with places to be. Not even the faint whirs of machines and speeders that were always present in the background, those indistinguishable and ingrained sounds of people living that were barely noticed until they were gone. Not merely a silence; an absence. Of sound, atmosphere, anything. Not even an icy wind to whistle through the remnants of the landscape, the dead trees and crumbling buildings that once stood so proud. Only a void, a nothingness, except one belonging to a whole world.

The group's presence stood out, intruders in a forbidden land. Investigators had come, permitted from both the Empire and the Republic, not that there was much left to investigate now. They operated in near silence, whether out of shock or respect for the dead, or merely in the unspoken acknowledgement that no words could do justice to what lay before them. Still their breaths came as shouts, their footsteps as stamps with the wrong sound; harsh crunches in ashes and dirt, not the firm clack of boots on duracrete. Trails of footprints and tracks of droids would be etched into the landscape, lingering behind with nobody left to disturb them. Ziost would be remembered, and left to be forgotten; dead and immortal at the same time, locked evermore in that one singular moment. The worst day of its history, perfectly preserved for all eternity.

“Do not fret, Wrath, you are still special to me. That is why I shall kill you last.”

Once he would have been proud to call himself the Emperor's Wrath. The title was all a Sith should aspire to be, one to finally command the respect he always craved. Names were powerful, symbols that carried significance. His own name carried connotations, changed once but still the subject of whispers each time his back was thought to be turned. But as Wrath he had power, security, an authority others would be brave to question. His loyalty could not be doubted, he was the embodiment of the will of the Emperor himself.

Through victory, my chains are broken.

Victory over Baras – his mere survival when disposed of like common dirt by his former master – was supposed to mark the breaking of his chains, the rise of his own power as Wrath. At times it felt more like a punishment. A new set of chains to be bound by, a new set of eyes to watch his every move. New consequences should he dare stray too far. The illusion of freedom, but bound within strict limits. His efforts to change and reform the Empire would always be a distraction, permitted as a cute hobby until his leash needed to be tightened again to remind him that his service to one man came first. His power wasn't his own, it came from the name of another.

And if it came from his name, then was it really worth it at all?

The title felt shallow now, made dirty by its very associations. Marking him, tainting him. The Emperor's Wrath; he belonged to the Emperor. Binding their two names forever, even though Vitiate's actions did nothing to speak for him.

Maybe it was fate that he would come to stand against Vitiate in the end. The will of the force, some would call it. The child of dissidents, watched constantly as he fought to show the world he was nothing like them. He had reached the peak of society, followed the dream of every child on Ziost as he rose to Sith, to Wrath, and for what? For his parents to be proven right.

“We didn't raise our son to become Sith.”

“You didn't raise me at all.”

Their memories were inescapable now on the planet they'd fought to free, the last exchange he shared with them spiralling around in his mind. There was a cruel irony as he and the Jedi fired the anti-civilian defence system to shock the victims of Vitiate's thrall. The same system built to 'protect' the city from terrorists and anyone who dared get too close, the ultimate deterrent against his own flesh and blood.

They were among the lucky ones, the survivors. Fugitives hidden deep in Republic space where even he couldn't find them, who could at last be thankful for being banished from their home two decades before. And the only others he knew who remained. The only others who could share this burden, and they were the ones he disowned. The ones who disowned him.

Everyone else was gone. The grandparents who raised him, who he'd spent so many years trying to impress, and then resenting when he was never good enough. Their friends, the officers who visited for dinners, all sat up straight in uniforms that had never seen a single crease. The shop owners, the woman at the bookstore who always picked out the latest grand adventure for him, tales of great Sith victories on distant worlds. His classmates, their joyous laughter of youth. How many of them remained? The teachers who scolded them all into being proper imperial citizens, the 'pride of Ziost' that they were supposed to grow up to be. The people who passed him in the street everyday, faces without names. All gone. Nothing more than specks of ash on the ground.

Being from Ziost was supposed to mean something. The heart of the Empire, the jewel in its crown. Something to be proud of.

And now, it was nothing.

Only dust.

[voidendron]

V'ehsz Legacy: Jedi Knights

Leo Vetiko

She/they - Cathar - Defense Guardian

Server: Star Forge, Satele Shan

SO: Ytila'vena (dating)

Alignment: Light, leans gray

Leo is my legacy's canon Knight & Battlemaster. She was gravely injured on Ziost, so was one of many to end up on Ossus when Zakuul attacked due to her state leaving her unable to fight. Many years later, she joins the Alliance--with a strict stance of not being sent into Republic affairs--and provides its combat training for Force-sensitives/blade-users in general.

Has one AU version: Role Reversal, in which she's Sith

Kidak Hess

He/him - Cathar - Focus Guardian

Server: Satele Shan

SO: Bre'lah (married)

Alignment: Light

Aided in training younglings on Coruscant, but was forced into an active role of a warrior after the Sacking. He wound up stationed on Hoth as a battalion leader. Goes MIA along with Tri'kehn after an Imperial ambush. He's freed by a Sith--who turns out to actually be an SIS agent. He and the Sith, Bre'lah, keep in touch, and later aid one another after Zakuul attacks. Upon joining the Alliance, Kidak is able to go back to teaching children, so has a big part in the legacy's Next Gen characters' lives.

Ytila'vena

She/her - Chiss - Watchman Sentinel

Server: Star Forge

SO: Leo Vetiko (dating)

Alignment: Light

Found as an infant after her parents sent her away from Ascendency space, she was raised by the Jedi and eventually became a Temple guardian. When Zakuul attacked, she grabbed any Padawan and youngling she could and took off for Ossus with Gnost-Dural. She was stationed as a colony guardian as Leo's partner, and later joins the Alliance, where she guards the base and keeps an eye on non-Alliance visitors.

Karn Mana

He/him - Miraluka/Human - Combat Sentinel/Deception Assassin

Server: Star Forge

SO: Single

Alignment: Dark

Even as a Padawan, his following of the Jedi Code was shaky at best. The lure of the dark side, the power it could offer, had always been tempting for him. Striking down his first real opponent in battle, rather than showing mercy, was the tipping point he needed to truly fall. He eventually defects to accept a Sith's offer to train him with "true power."

Sy'hen Rett

They/them - Human (Cyborg) - Infiltration Shadow/Vigilance Guardian

Server: Darth Malgus

SO: Single

Alignment: Gray, more light over time

A former Knight of Zakuul, Sy'hen became a POW after the Alliance won the battle on Voss thanks to the Gravestone and Imperial intervention. Over the course of months, they were able to see the good the Alliance actually did, and when it recruited Arcann, some Knights were also given a second chance--Sy'hen included. They're able to prove their loyalty, and wind up recruited to Inferno Squad as a scout.

Tri'kehn

Ze/he - Twi'lek (cyborg) - Focus Guardian

Server: Star Forge

SO: Single

Alignment: Light

When Tri'kehn's Padawan was killed in a speeder crash, ze requested to be restationed in an attempt to escape the area that brought the memories back every time ze passed it. Ze was stationed on Hoth alongside Kidak, leading a squad that would often work with Kidak's battalion. When they were both captured, Tri'kehn wasn't lucky enough to find escape with Bre'leh, and was subjected to torture for zeir information. Ze was later able to escape thanks to a Havoc rescue. Ze's is a husk of who ze once was, but still tries to be the best Jedi ze can. Ze doesn't join the Alliance due to it having a lot of former Imperials & being led by the bounty hunter who contributed to zeir capture, but does voice support for it from zeir place in the Republic.

[m4-05spersonalblog]

The M4 siblings fanfiction

Chapter 1: In the name of journalism

It had only been a day since M4 discovered the story, a republic senator for a mining colony in the mid-rim and imperial captain stationed near the remains of Ziost both turn up dead at the exact same time, and security footage reveals it as the culprit, though M4 had killed plenty of people by now, some more notorious and a lot more powerful than a senator and captain, so what’s 2 more kills under it’s designation after all? The reporter who first made the story public fell to the floor of his office, set ablaze, as he looked up, paralyzed with the utmost fear of the one responsible, in front of him stood M4-05 and it’s faithful akk dog partner, Murjr, M4 grabs the man by the collar, lifting him off the ground as the droid places it’s wristblade to his neck, speaking to him in a tone of pure anger “I don’t appreciate slander, especially slander that puts the few people in the galaxy I have left at risk, now tell me what do you know about those imposters.” The reporter was speechless, as M4 pressed it’s blade further against his neck he began to fumble for words, “I- I- was told that the one who killed the senator worked for sith intelligence, I just thought it was you collecting on those bounties you do when your owner doesn’t need you shoving people who only want to give the public the truth aside!” In a sudden burst of emotion, M4 pins the reporter against the wall, slowly causing blood to drip from the man’s neck, if he didn’t talk quick enough he would surely die, but before he could try and save his own life M4 gets in the first word “Here’s a story for you to publish. I. Am. Nobodies. Property!” M4 continuously slammed the reporter against the wall before cutting his throat entirely, stepping back and allowing Murjr to get some bites in of the man, though the akk dog quickly changes he spits out what was bitten off quickly. The two partners walk out of the reporter’s house before M4 sets off a disintegration bomb inside, wiping the evidence from the building as it slowly crumbled down a flaming mess, if there was an imperial copy of M4, then there was bound to be a republic one as well, but only 2 questions remained in M4’s metal head, how to destroy them and make sure it’s not copied again.

Chapter 2: Enter “Vanguard”

Cheers roar out from a bar on the upper levels of coruscant as a group of soldiers celebrate a recent victorious campaign, talking about sticking it to the imperials and what-not, with other patrons of the bar celebrating as patriots alongside their protectors, better known as ‘Sigma Squad’. As the celebrations were in full swing the bar doors open and a droid with claw-like feet, a built-in jetpack and face plating walks in and up to sigma squad, prompting more cheers from the soldiers. The orange and white droid looks at the squad before introducing itself, it’s voice contained that of a proud republic accent as it gives a salute, “M4-06, code name: vanguard, the first of the 06 assault series developed by the SIS for usage by special operations squads, having completed my testing I have been transferred to act as a member of sigma squad, effective immediately.” The hulking sigma squad commander chuckles and pats the droid’s shoulder “Don’t worry vanguard, we knew you were coming, welcome to the squad! I was told you had our next mission for us, but that can wait, come, join the party!” The squad and bar patrons partied on until dark and they got kicked out by the barkeep. Back at the republic command centre, the squad, once more suited up in armour looked eagerly at their newest addition to relay their next mission to them, the droid robotically looks at the squad before projecting a holo-image of 2 droids that looked near-identical to it. “These are M4-05 and M4-07, M4-05 is the droid I am based off, a dangerous mercenary and republic defector, M4-07 is my sibling who was stolen and modified by sith intelligence during the early stages of our development, command has decided it is up to us to destroy them, for the republic.” The commander walks up next to Vanguard and gives some final words “I’ll requisition the gear we need ASAP, we leave at 06:00 in the morning, we have our orders, sigma squad, move out!” The squad walk out as the commander turns to Vanguard and simply directs the droid to follow him to requisition the gear needed.

Chapter 3: Preparations After a sudden jump to hyperspace M4 forces open a security crate, laying it’s optics on the deadly contents. “Looks like Azutek came through” M4 plainly stated as it picked out the disruptor rifle, sealing the rest of the contents back in the case before putting it in a smuggling compartment “Best keep those unarmed unless I have to use them” the droid simply mutters to itself, the silence aboard the tenacity was beginning to cause M4 to go mad again, without distraction M4 only did what it had ever known, calculate. Every movement, every second, every destination and every purpose had to be flawless, if not, go back to the start and do it all again until it’s right. This feeling of loneliness, even if it was to keep one of the few people in the galaxy M4 cared about safe, was something it simply couldn’t push back forever, going so far as to turn off it’s face lights and removing it’s faceplates just so it could practice everything with it’s own, unfiltered optics, M4 wanted every advantage possible, even if that meant pushing it’s only body built for combat to the absolute limit. As time went on M4 slowed down it’s combat calculations and began thinking more straightforward, it had an idea of a plan, but nothing specific, all it knew was to lure it’s copies to a location and destroy them both at the same time, what remained was, how and where? It needed an unrealistic amount of luck to even get the 2 to the same location and luck wasn’t logical, M4 pondered about this for some time, talking to itself in it’s lonely state “Luck… luck, there is not a possible way to calculate such a thing or even obtain it, to a point, luck can be considered something a person is born with, the concept of luck favors those incredibly stupid for they would not survive without some form of intervention… ugh” M4 waves it’s head around in annoyance realizing that out of the statistical odds of it, it knew one of the luckiest idiots in the entire galaxy, and it owed the idiot a favour, how joyous this plan was going to be, doing so it sets course and turns back around to a hub-zone of loot, rumors and the one place the pirate known only as “Flip” could likely be found, Nar Shaddaa.

Chapter 4: The imposter’s imposter

“Dread it, run from it, death arrives all the same, or rather, it simply has more intelligence than your organic brain can comprehend.” A sly, robotic, imperial accent matched with black paint and armouring met only with the laughter of an idiot about to start wallowing in his own blood, the masked fool laughs “You know, you would make a great actor, plus you’d be doing a better job than you are right now.” The masked idiot gets his head slammed into a wall of Nar shaddaa for this, the claw-like metal hand creating an ear-piercing scratching noise as the imperial assassin, M4-07, runs it’s hand down to Flip’s neck, “I’ll give you credit, fool, you’re braver than most targets who’ve had the pleasure of seeing my face, you lack their fear, but a sith agent without fear to feed on is a vicious beast to tangle with.” Flip just laughs at the sadistic droid “Wow, you really don’t get the message huh? I already told you where your big bro was heading, someplace called ‘the crater’ ominous I know, but hey, there are hundreds of craters in the galaxy, which one do you go to, let me, help you, so I can help myself keep living?” 07 let’s go of Flip’s head, letting him drop to the ground like a sack of hammers, only for the idiot to get back up on his feet and stretch as if he hadn’t just had his ass whooped for the 17th time this week. “Like I said, I don’t know where ‘the crater’ is but I do know a place that’d be easy to kill an organic for your brother, it’s this completely inhospitable area on Tatooine, not even moisture farmers can use it, plus it drives people insane, now I don’t know a huge amount of it’s backstory but if my luck is anything to go off, I reckon it has a base there, no place an organic can approach without going insane? Any droid would want to go there!” 07 looks at Flip before speaking again as it raises a blaster to Flip’s face “Your service to the empire will be rewarded painlessly” Though before the droid could even pull the trigger Flip rolls to the other side of the room before grabbing his dropped rifle and jumping out of the closed window and falling into the abyss below, all the way down yelling “At your service!” 07 backs away before dropping a thermal detonator in Flip’s hotel room, even if he did survive the fall, he didn’t have anywhere to sleep anymore…

Of course anybody who knows Flip, knows he can survive worse than a big fall, getting caught in a red speeder, driven by M4 of all droids before zooming off to the spaceport, M4 shook it’s head as Flip relayed the details to it, now it owed the fool two favours.

Chapter 5: “Hello old friend”

M4 stood in front of a burnt and decaying pile of logs in the vast and harsh desert night of Tatooine, so much had happened since M4’s first visit here and everything personal always caused it to end up here, except with Grillrilot, but that wasn’t an opportunity it would’ve got a second shot at. Simply staring at the wood as it’s cloak flew in the wind the droid noticed something it hadn’t noticed last time it was here, a single holoprojector that had somehow survived the bonfire, curiously M4 picks it up and wipes some ash off it before placing it down at it’s feet and pressing play on it. The projector boots into life as a man clad in red armour, with red hair and the worst shaving job in the galaxy, appeared, taking the droid back, the man simply smiles at looks at M4, speaking in a typical mandalorian accent, with a hint of balmorran. “If you’re finding this, it means this… disorder of mine has got the best of me and I was proven killable, if so, I commend the warrior who managed to kill me and rid the galaxy of the voice in my head, but chances also are you found this looking for some wisdom from a strong member of clan Stalos, who defeated the republic’s own mandalorian killer, twice and fought alongside some of the best warriors in the galaxy, well bit of some bad news, whatever you might know about my story might be a little lost in translation, because… Well a lot of the stories attributed to me are only half true, I never faced a single enemy down alone, there was always someone else by my side in a fight, whether that be aiding me through a commlink, on the field of battle, or just when I needed someone to talk too, whether it’s still around by the time this message is played back I don’t know… we sort of, got into a fight and well… we went our separate ways I suppose. So maybe I do have some wisdom after all, whether they are mando’ade or not, anyone who is willing to stand by you through everything the galaxy throws at you is a true vod, whether they consider themselves mandalorian or not, for me that person was a droid, funny I know, who’d have thought a mandalorian and a droid would make such a good team, the droid in question was called M4-05, heh… We started out hating each other, and I mean hated each other, all we both wanted to do was get off tatooine and go our separate ways then, but things obviously changed, M4 was more than a machine, more so than I think even it realised, it was a friend to so many people, sure it could be a bit cynical at times, M4 stuck around when nobody else did… and I let the voice in my head throw that away, but M4’s tough, built of some of the strongest stuff in the galaxy, always had a plan for everything, it’s got a plan to outlive the end of the universe itself I bet, dunno if it’ll stick with artix or move on to work with someone else, what matters is that it finds a place in the galaxy… where was I? Oh yeah, moral of the story and stuff… a brother is more than your fellow mando’ade or your blood, a brother is someone who believes and doesn’t give up, someone you can be transparent with, someone who sticks by your side just because it’s you. So, to whoever may be seeing this recording, do this mad mando a favour, just one, find M4 if you can, tell it, no, tell my brother I’m sorry, tell him that Robert ‘Anarch’ Artix-Stalos was wrong, that I wish things could’ve turned out better, got a kid on the way and everything as well, coulda used a babysitter every now and again…” The long and drawn out recording finally stops and M4 looks down at the recording, before removing it’s faceplating to look at the projector before picking it up and look at it with it’s two, basic optics before speaking back to the lifeless projector, in a sad and defeated tone “I wish I had a plan for this… I really do, but given your combat success, perhaps the best plan isn’t having one at all… and apology accepted, ‘brother’.” The droid places it’s plates back on before walking off further into the desert, the last remains of it’s first true friend in hand.

Chapter 6: The crater (dun dun duuun!)

M4-07 stood in a desolate, completely black area of Tatooine, amongst what appear to be the charred remains of a sand person camp, the only thing not charred in the area was a single cliff face, with no cracks or rocks to use to climb, only 07, no life, no back-up, yet impossible to ambush… Then at the top of the cliff stood a group of heavily armed republic soldiers as none other than M4-06 jettisoned down to meet 07 in the optics, as it yells in declaration “M4-07, you are found guilty of working as an agent of sith intelligence, surrender now and you will be treated fairly!” 07 just looks at the soldier droid before chuckling “M4-06 and sigma squad then? I don’t know what your game is but I doubt you’ll find your ultimate goal here, allow me to explain the purpose of our creation, we were built to anger the same droid, to lure it out of hiding and destroy it, to our respective factions we are expendable, I am here of my own initiative to prove otherwise, your being here benefits only me, not you and certainly not our target.” 06 stands proudly in defiance “If my purpose is to be expendable in the fight for freedom then so be it!” it’s imperial brethren only shakes it’s head in disapproval “A patriot to the end eh? Well I suppose I can sympathise to a degree, my programming grants me free thought in nearly every aspect, other than attempts to betray my empire.” 06, clearly tired with 07’s ego simply raises it’s rifle to the droid “Enough talk, either you come silently, or in pieces! And once we’re done with you, we’ll deal with 05 too!”

In response 07 raises it’s blaster firing at 06 with no hesitation, 06 responds by firing back, both droids absorbing and ricocheting the shots with their armouring, as the 2 scurry for cover as 06 yells into it’s comms “Commander, your assistance would be appreciated right about now!” 06 actually got a response, but not from the person it was expecting, as a cold, robotic voice speaks through the commlink to 06 “Not so fast, inferior. And don’t think about adjusting your aim, one move towards me and the blood of your organic masters is on your copied hands.” 06 continues to engage 07 as it speaks back through the comms as it briefly looks up to spot a dot of red and black atop the cliff where sigma squad has seemingly disappeared. “So the traitor shows themself, you will surrender yourself to republic custody for trial in front of the galactic senate and leave that of sigma squad alone.” The patriot droid’s demands are met with a sinister and annoyed tone “I don’t know if you’ve ever been programmed to deal with a hostage situation before, so allow me to give you some tips, do not demand the exact opposite of what the hostage-taker wants.” for a second a blaster shot echos from the cliff before a human body is thrown off and hits the ground with an unbearable cracking sound. “For every wrong move you make, is another republic death on your hands, can your limited mind comprehend that?” Atop the cliff M4 turns it’s head to the entire unconscious sigma squad as it waves the commander’s helmet over them and watches the 2 droids below fight each other before speaking into the helmet “Now, my demands are simple, destroy M4-07, then yourself.” As yet more bolts bounce off 06’s armour it simply gives a simple response “No can do, my duty is to serve the republic, not you!” M4 simply sighs back in response, before something atop the cliff goes boom and M4 descends down to the ground, causing the two copies to stop shooting at each and look at it before it simply states “Wrong answer. Now I’m not usually one for teaching those I’m about to kill a lesson, this place ‘the crater’ that’s not it’s real name, that’s just what the only jedi who ever came here called it. The real name of this place is ‘daba'r’ which is mandalorian for ‘The beginning’ and in my case that’s what organics would call, symbolic.” 07 simply points it’s blaster at M4 and begins firing “Enough talking, shut up and die! For the empire!” and in suit 06 yells in response “For the republic!” M4 simply draws it’s blasters and opens fire on the two, bolts ping back and forth as the 3 all try to get a killing shot on each other. The battle raged on into the cold night, the once more cold desert allowing all 3 machines to operate at their respective peaks. With the fight going nowhere, M4 jettisons itself at 06 to no avail as 06 dodges and M4’s stomach crashes into a charred rock before it gets grabbed by 06, which repeatedly strikes the point hit by the rock before turning M4 around to use as a shield against an oncoming 07, piercing M4’s armour with a metal screech painful enough to deafen even the poorest functioning hearing. In this state of immobility 07 begins to strike M4’s face plating repeatedly, the unified wish of the two copies to destroy their original outweighing their dogma against each other. The strikes against M4 so continuous and powerful the metal begins to bind inwards until the sound of shattering glass could be heard, one of it’s primary optics had been broken, unable to even move the two opposites throw the broken droid to the side as they begin punching each other out.

Chapter 7: Can’t beat a classic

The shattered, cracked and flickering optics of M4 fade in and out as the sound of white noise clouds the sound of the copied droids slamming their metal fists into each other, this wasn’t meant to happen, how did this happen? All M4 could do was search it’s memory, what had it miss? Past Nat’s party, past fighting the progenitor, past working for Azutek, killing Stalos, killing Grillrilot, further than even the first time on Tatooine… Soon M4 only reached nothing but darkness, except for one sentence, repeating over and over, in a voice even M4 didn’t recognize “Just because you can’t see doesn’t mean he’s not smiling, so you can keep your fake friends because I’ve got a better one!” ...how old was this memory that not even M4 could remember it? But it didn’t matter, the voice brought the old droid a feeling of warmness, not like the kind of heat on tatooine, a feeling of pride, even now M4 felt no fear, but it wasn’t a feeling of malice, something much better than that, something that caused the droid to roll over and pick it’s beaten body back up. Seeing this 06 and 07 freeze in place, how was M4 still able to stand on it’s 2 feet with only one primary optic working? To this question, M4 only gave one answer, with a tone of pure determination “I am made of stronger stuff than what’s on the surface.” Only with one response, the 2 droids began to run at M4, both of them trying to dent the other on the way to the stationary droid, 07 being the more agile of the 2 made it first, unprepared for what M4 was planning, using what power the droid had in it’s rockets it performs a roundhouse kick to 07’s face with enough force to tear off it’s face plating, and before the imperial copy could even retaliate M4 dug it’s hand into 07’s exposed face before tearing out the copy’s wiring, letting the now powerless assassin drop to the floor before turning it’s attention to the soldier. 06, having just witnessed the mechanical carnage, didn’t know what to do, it had no protocols to use for this scenario, it knew M4 could be brutal, but not to that extent, it had practically given up as M4 closed in on it picking up one of it’s blasters on the way, as 06 tried to analyse a new strategy it’s legs were shot out from beneath it as M4 grabs it by the neck, before speaking in the tone of anger “You are everything I ran away from, living proof your precious republic will burn in it’s own incompetence, you were never, nor will you ever be my equal or better. So allow me to properly introduce myself: I am M4-05, and I implore your masters to throw their entire army at me, waste the blood of their dogs, let them howl in pain for the sake of someone else’s ego, I will not provoke the republic more than they will provoke me so next time your masters consider trying to kill me, make sure they remember Grillrilot, and remember how he ended up because I am capable of so much worse!” with it’s speech done M4 begins to slam 06 into the same rock it had been thrown into earlier, repeatedly, until the last semblance of functioning tech had faded from it’s enemy, dropping it to the ground. Before leaving M4 places two oddly shaped detonators next to the robo-corpses of it’s copies before walking off just over a mile away, only pressing a button on it’s belt, an explosion large enough to level two buildings goes off in ‘the crater’ creating an actual crater now only muttering something with a joking tone as it limps off back to it’s ship “Programming is overrated anyways.” Epilogue: My turn Stumbling back onto the Tenacity, M4 puts it’s damaged body back on the bridge, pressing a few buttons to try and take-off, to nothing, now fuel or power, M4 chuckles at this “Of course… Things really are full circle… Oh well, at least I have options this time around…” M4 throws it’s head back as it powers down and a red and friend-sized astromech bursts into life as it exits the cargo hold, speaking in the native language of binary. “M4-05 = back to the beginning. M4 = searching contents… Contact = found.” Authors note

This, despite however bad it may be, was a lot of fun to write, sort of revisiting everything I’ve rped with M4. Now it’s no secret of mine that a couple of years ago I wasn’t in a good spot mentally, and since then I’ve got out of that state and been thanking people for listening to my bullshit ever since, and swtor rp has definetly helped me deal with the shit I was dealing with during all that. I’ve been rping on swtor for over a year now and despite all the arguments and drama, I’ve enjoyed myself at the end of the day, it’s been an escape and a way to socialise with new people who aren’t the sods I go to school with, so to the jedi, sith, mercenaries, the pubs, the imps, the overdramatic adults who act more like children than the actual 16-year-old, the mechanics, gamblers, the Mandalorians, criminals but certainly not to the ‘erp exposure’ guy, thank you. Thank you for making this past year so much better than it had any right to be.

[rainofaugustsith]

Rain Plays SWTOR: Stronghold Decos on a Budget, Part II

Part I  Where to Buy Decos Without Going Broke 1. Your own stronghold! When you complete the Stronghold intro mission you are given Felusia Stato, a personnel deco. She can repair your gear, buy junk and sell you many basic decos, some Yavin and Rishi items and plants, and a cheap but nice looking couch arrangement. 

2. The Fleet. These four vendors are near the Crew Skills. Captain Karu, the PvP vendor, can be used by anyone. You do NOT need to PvP, and things you might like, such as the Makeb Pergola, are sold here. Estah Kloy sells Rakata themed decos. Clem Stato needs a currency that isn’t easy to get, and Meridat Stato sells the same stuff as Felusia so you needn’t worry about them. 

The Dark Side and Light Side vendors (in the area where you buy mods) sell lightsaber forges and signs. You want the ones that just say “Dark Side/Light Side,” not the Galactic ones. 

3. Planets. These tend to require you to have a certain level of reputation but that is legacy wide, and if you are running normal story content and heroics you will build this. 

Universal prefabs required to buy decos (we’ll explain these in a sec):   Voss - Vendor in the cantina. Makeb - Vendor in the orbital station.   CZ-198 - Vendor in the second building, where you go for the flashpoints. Section X - Vendor in the outpost where you arrive.

Area currency required to buy decos:   Iokath - Vendors in the Imperial and Republic bases. Uses the Iokath currency you earn by completing missions and looting NPCs. Ziost - Vendor in the orbital station. Uses only the Ziost currency you get from completing the story missions and doing the daily area on Ziost. Dantooine - Vendors in the Imperial and Republic bases where you start on Dantooine. Manaan - You get currency from finishing the flashpoint which can be used to buy a plant and IIRC one other decoration from the vendor.    Decos can be bought with credits:

Yavin 4  - Vendors in the Imperial and Republic sections of the first area where you land (go through the archways to where the trainers are) Rishi - Raiders Cove, near the arrival point Ossus - Vendors in the Imperial and Republic bases where you start on Ossus. Onderon  - Vendor in the hunting lodge or Iziz marketplace on both Imperial and Republic sides. Odessen - Vendor is located in the Underworld specialist area, near the exit. 

The datacron display you can buy on Odessen. On either side are Zakuulan Force Focus decos from completing the veteran Star Fortresses with specialist influence greater than 10.    Decos can be bought with tech fragments:   Ossus: Some decos.

4. Special events where you can buy decos with the event currency:

Bounty Hunter Week - Vendors are always located in the Cartel Bazaar section of the fleet but currency can only be earned during Bounty Week. Nar Shaddaa Nightlife - Only during the event; uses currency earned at the slots. Vendors are at the back of the casino on the first level. Life Day - Only during the event; uses currency - parcels - earned from throwing snowballs at NPCS/other players during the event). Vendors on the Fleet near the Life Day celebration and on Mek-Sha near the cantinam ONLY during event. Rakhoul Resurgence - Vendors are always located in the Cartel Bazaar section of the fleet but currency can only be earned during Rakghoul Resurgence weeks. During the event, vendors are also located in the rakghoul tunnels, in the staging area topside and roaming through the Heroic area (the Jawa). Gree - Vendors are always located in the Cartel Bazaar and are also always available in the starting Gree area bases (Imperial and Republic) on Ilum, but currency can only be earned during weeks when the Gree event is running. 

5.  Fabrication Droids.  You have your own set of fabrication droids from completing the Stronghold mission. Or, you can find them all at the Fleet. These droids craft decorations for you using universal, industrial or synthetic prefabs, MK-1 to MK-4. 

The Universal fabrication droid can make beds, luxury blue rugs, and really pretty Voss furniture, among other things. The Synthetic droid can make the red couches you see all over Alderaan and Coruscant as well as numerous other pieces of nice furniture. The Industrial droid can make computers and lights that look cool. 

The couch, rug, table and chair in this image were all crafted by fabrication droids, and the lamp was from a Star Fortresss solo run.  So how do you get these prefabs? You can either buy or make them. Every crafting skill can make Universal prefabs. Some crafting skills make Industrial ones and others make Synthetic ones. You can learn the schematics from the crew skills trainers on the Fleet or various planets.  To make a Universal prefab you need: one synthetic, one industrial, a fabricator  crystal and a fabricator design. 

How do you get the materials for this, assuming you don’t have enough from crew missions and harvesting? If you have any Level 75 characters deconstructing materials, you will have a ton of Jawa Junk and Scrap. You can exchange this with the Jawa vendors in the Cartel Bazaar for the mats you need. You also get scrap when you complete your conquest goals for the week. 

Here are some more photos of what you can do with these decos, without busting your wallet on the GTN or cartel coins: 

Onderon and Makeb decorations look especially right at home in the Alderaan stronghold. 

This photo includes: 

- A crystal from Conquest - An Alliance trooper from Iokath - Artwork from CZ-198 - A Rakata palm tree from the Rakata Prime flashpoint - Art from the Gree vendor - Luxury blue rug made by the Universal fabrication droid

[honekitteh]

Fic: Countdown - Chapter 9

Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: M Genre: Angst, H/C, Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Humor,  Canon-typical levels of poor decision-making Synopsis: A distress call leads the Jedi Battlemaster to Ziost, but time is running out.  Follows the storyline of The Rise of the Emperor and inserts missing scenes.   Author's Notes: Thank you to @storyknitter​ for giving this chapter a once over.  You have no idea how much that means to me! Warnings: See Chapter 1

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |  Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Crossposted to AO3

Across the din of Carrick Station, the pounding of my heart was the only sound I could focus on as I approached the cantina in the center of the promenade.  I took a deep breath and sank into its rhythm, matching my steps to each thump. My eyes flickered between each patron in the cantina, focusing every so often on an individual:  There was a blindfolded Miralukan at the bar, sipping on a light blue beverage, tilting his head ever so slightly towards the commotion behind him. A hulking Devaronian was talking loudly to a tiny greenish skinned Twi'lek, who shrank at each word as though struck by a heavy blow.  Another man, a brown-haired thin human in a brown nondescript vest, slid up next to the Miralukan, also taking note of the loud display.

It was far livelier than I had expected, but my knowledge of bar etiquette could leave a lot to be desired.  Though I’m sure Doc would kindly tell me that the station’s cantina is tame compared to other planets. But that is a pondering for another time.

Sure enough, my target was precisely where I’d expected him.  It felt like a lifetime ago when we just met briefly to discuss the business dealings of a... mutual friend who had been acting suspicious.  I fidgeted with my button-up shirt, trying to pull it down as it did not completely cover my stomach.  I was not normally self-conscious about it, given my typical attire, but this was different: the station had a chill to the air that I hadn’t accounted for.  After straightening the shirt and brown vest, I took a quick glance at myself in the reflection of a pillar nearby. The vest and shirt combo, along with the dual-wielding belt, made me more like a gunslinger than a Jedi.  Kira had been quite insistent that I should not look like a Jedi if I’m going on a date. Was this a date? I suppose it was. After all, I didn’t even have my weapons on me. I figured should an incident occur, I’ll just rely on my wits and the Force to come up with a solution.

It was a pity I always had to think in such a way.  I’m sure all contingencies had been taken into account.  I took a step in the aforementioned direction, keeping my senses open and my guard up.  As I slid into the seat across from Theron Shan, I raised an eyebrow and glanced over the slightly unbuttoned henley underneath his trademark red jacket.  “So…” I began, “About that rain check.”

His eyes didn’t leave my own as I settled into my seat, his brow furrowing only slightly before his gaze softened.  His left arm was relaxed propped up along the top of the booth he was slouched into. “I’ve got a bit of time,” he began after a moment, crossing his legs, “Borrowed time, so not a whole lot, but should be enough to share a drink.”

I returned his studying gaze, glancing to the shirt he was wearing and the hint of flesh beneath the buttons, then back up to his eyes.  “Is that a new shirt?”

He quirked an eyebrow.  “Yeah. You like it?”

“Is nice,” I said softly, my voice trailing off the rest of my thoughts as I inadvertently got lost in a lingering glance again towards the shirt’s opening.

He gave me a small wink and motioned towards the tiny Twi'lek over at the bar.  She quickly made her way towards us, away from the now-shouting Devaronian with a grateful expression.

“Ever tried Mandalorian kri’gee?” Theron asked.

I tilted my head, curious.  “No? A drink?”

He smirked. “Are you even a drinker?”

“I… partake… on occasion.”

He looked up at the Twi'lek, who was shaking her head towards me with her eyes wide.  He tapped his finger on his mouth. “This might not be the drink for a beginner.”

I looked between the two, frowning.  “I am not some delicate flower that needs protecting!”

His grin grew larger at my protest, then gave the Twi'lek waitress a wink holding up two fingers.  She nodded subserviently, though giving me a glance of what could only be described as concern. Her trip to the bar was uneventful as she obtained the drinks, the earlier rowdy Devaronian nowhere to be seen.  Neither the Miralukan nor the human were still at the bar either.  

Theron remained alert as we waited, eyes scanning the crowd.  The silence between us only served to amplify the heartbeat pounding in my ears and the server seemed to have run all the way to Mandalore to retrieve our order.  

Soon enough, however, she returned and set the bottle in front of us with two glasses.  She murmured the customary acknowledgment of our thanks in Huttese and asked us if there was anything else we needed to let her know.  I nodded to her and asked simply for a menu while Theron skillfully poured the Mandalorian kri’gee into two glasses and slid the small tumbler over to me.

He raised his glass and tilted his head.  “Anything to toast?” he asked.

I considered for a moment and raised my glass.  “To a rain check.”

He smiled at me for that and nodded.  “A rain check.” Then we both downed the glasses in one gulp.

I coughed and sputtered a few times as a fire raged through my senses.  I could feel Theron’s amusement at my suffering before I heard his laugh.

“Want another?” he asked within the midst of his laughter.

I slid along the rounded bench closer to him and punched him in the shoulder before he could react.  The leather of his jacket creaked at the amount of pressure and a small crease was left behind.

He straightened his coat a bit.  “Hitting on me already?” he laughed.

I hit him again, finding myself giggling just a bit.  “I’m tempted to say ‘Challenge Accepted’ but I sense that might be an unwise decision on an empty stomach.”

He was watching me with a smirk.  Whether he was amused by my comment or watching me to see how the alcohol was going to affect me, I could not tell.  After a moment of great consideration, he stated, “True. Very unwise. Very unbecoming for a lady of your station.”

“You’re the one that suggested… this… this...” I waved at the bottle, “Thing.  Are you trying to get me drunk, Theron Shan?”

“Me?” he asked, putting a hand on his chest in what could only be described as mock hurt, “I would never.  It is not my fault you decided to take my drink challenge on an empty stomach.”

The waitress slid a menu in front of me and I looked down at it for a brief second before Theron slid it away from me and pointed towards an item on the menu.  I frowned a bit and took the menu back as the waitress left and looked down at it.

“Dumplings. You have a fondness for them if I remember correctly,” he explained.  

I tilted my head at him.  “Street food festival on Coruscant.  Before you sent me in to almost drown on Manaan.  I remember.”

“Hey, you made it out…” he pouted slightly, sliding his hand over mine which was resting on top of the menu.

“Can’t say it was an altogether terrible experience.”

“Are your ears red from the drink?”  He was smirking at me.

While indeed, the kri’gee had completely gone straight to my head, it wasn’t like I was going to let him in on that.  Not willingly at least. “What?”

“You’re blushing from something and it’s gone to your ears.”  He moved his hand from where it had been on top of mine and brushed his fingers lightly along the outer edge of my right ear.

I shivered at the touch of his finger and bit my lip.  I looked over at him and studied him closely. Sure enough, his cheeks and ears had a slightly reddish tint to them as well.  “Excuse me? Look who’s talking.” I punched him in his shoulder. “Your face isn’t any better.”

He shrugged leaning back and resting both of his arms along the top of the booth seat.  “It’s obviously a side effect of the kri’gee. I’m not the one who’d never had it before.”

“I should throw something at you.”

“Violence also seems to be a side effect of the kri’gee in some people,” he said, rubbing his chin for a moment in thought.  

How had I not noticed that he’d grown out his typical 5 o’clock shadow into a quarter of an inch beard before?  I blame the henley. The way the light fabric and unbuttoned shirt laid on him was extremely distracting.  

His musing continued, “Maybe that’s why Mandalorians like it as part of their celebrations.  Definitely something to investigate.”

I pursed my lips at him, debating a retort.  Given that the one that popped in my mind was a stab at him being on administrative leave, I opted against it and decided to attempt a menacing glare.

“Are you okay?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Glaring at you menacingly.  Is it working?”

He tried to smother a grin, the corners of his lips twitching upward despite his effort, and said softly, “So cute.”

I pouted.  “Cute isn’t intimidating.”

He shook his head.  “No. No indeed it is not.”

The Twi'lek waitress returned and set down a very large plate of dumplings.  I felt a small rumble in my stomach as I realized exactly how hungry I was.

“Jyana,” Theron stated softly, “Are you already drunk?”

“No…” Then I hiccupped.  I felt my ears heating up again as I sighed.  “... Maybe.”

“After one drink huh…” he stated.  He took one of the dumplings from the platter and offered it to me.  “Have some food,” he smiled and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I won’t tell anyone.”

I gave him a dubious glance and reached to take the dumpling from him with his hand.  He pulled it back and shook his head. I furrowed my brow in frustration and confusion, then looked up at him, still holding it out for me.  Oh.  I then leaned in cautiously and allowed him to feed me the first dumpling.

He winked at me and grabbed one for himself.

“Which dumplings did you get?” I asked as I picked up a different one. “Or did you order a variety?”

“I told her to surprise us.”

I furrowed my brow.  “I did not notice you actually saying anything other than pointing at the menu?”

“There are many different languages, you know,” he said raising an eyebrow, “Some of which are not verbal.”

“Huh, so like thieves cant or something like that?  I think that’s what it was called.”

He nodded a bit.  “Something like that.  Not something they teach at the temple?”

“Oh, they offer it should some desire to learn,” I said, “My skills laid elsewhere.”

“You do excel at what you do,” he smiled and took his second dumpling.

I smiled a bit and scratched the back of my neck, before frowning a bit.  I felt a nudge lightly and then looked back over to him.

“None of that,” he whispered.  “And you’re red again. That is definitely a fascinating development.”

I sighed heavily and gave him a half-hearted punch to his shoulder.  “You stop that.”

He rubbed his shoulder lightly with a pout.  “Want another drink?”

I stared, dubious, at the bottle of kri’gee.  Before I answered though, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck raise lightly.  “Theron?”

“Hm?”

“Are we being watched?”

“Human?  Brown hair?  Brown vest? Fairly unremarkable otherwise?”

I pursed my lips at the description.  “Yes.”

“Dammit.”  Theron slid slightly away from me in the seat.

I raised my eyebrow at him.  

He fidgeted and bit his lip.  Something told me that he hadn’t accounted for this particular contingency.  He took a deep breath and stated quickly, “Act casual.”

I simply replied, “I don’t understand,” because I didn’t.

Before he could respond, the man in question had slid onto the edge of the bench next to Theron.  “Shan,” he drawled out, “When were you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“Balkar,” he growled.  

I raised an eyebrow between the both of them and reached for my empty glass and looked down at it, frowning.

“Jonas Balkar, SIS,” the newcomer continued, “An old friend of Agent Shan’s here.”

“An old annoyance is more like it.”

Jonas waved Theron’s comment off.  He then studied the bottle in front of us.  “Mandalorian kri’gee? Wow, Theron, that’s your idea for the first drink of the night?”

“And you have a better idea?”

Giving Theron a pointed look that clearly impled, “Of course I do, you idiot,” he shrugged and flagged the waitress down.  “Allow me,” he said, exchanging a few hand gestures upon her arrival. She nodded and went back to the bartender. He looked back at us.  “So: no introductions?”

Before I even opened my mouth to respond, Theron quickly stated, “What do you want, Balkar?”

“I was just in the area.  Saw you here. Thought I’d say hello.  Pity you won’t introduce me to the lady.”  He reached his hand towards me.

Theron put his hand on top of Jonas’ before the latter could take my hand with his.  This time, I interrupted Theron’s objections and scooted closer to both of them. “Jyana is fine.  Old friends, huh?”

Jonas’s smile broadened and he nodded.  “We go way back.”

Theron slumped into his seat and looked back across the cantina.  His eyes flickered between each currently visible patron. I followed his gaze and noticed that Kira had taken up residence at the bar next to a Mirialan lady in casual attire.

“I could tell you so many stories.”

“Oh?” I leaned in, definitely intrigued.  The waitress returned and put a large light green beverage in front of me.  The rim of the glass was lined with brightly-colored rainbow salt and there was a holographic umbrella in it.  I studied the drink before slowing reaching for it.

Theron halted my attempt.  “Give me a moment,” he muttered.

“What, you don’t trust me?” Jonas laughed.

I looked between the two, curiously.  Theron sighed and let me take it. I slowly sipped the drink, finding it surprisingly fruity.  

“With everything I do for you, Shan, a little trust sometime would be nice.”

“Like the last time you got me captured and my implants almost stolen?”

“That was just that one time.  And I’d given you plenty of reports so you would have been aware had you just read them.”

“Right,” he sighed and looked over at me.  The waitress set down a pair of tumblers filled with an amber liquid on ice in front of the two agents.  

“I feel like there’s a story here,” I stated after taking another sip of the fruity monstrosity.

“Oh there definitely is, but sadly a great deal of that is classified,” Jonas said.

I raised an eyebrow, but opted to leave out the part that there was a great possibility that my clearance level in some respects exceeded his own.  But I was not entirely sure how much the term Battlemaster weighed within the SIS, nor was I inclined to find out. Theron seemed to want to keep who I was secret, and if I was completely honest, I wanted to be discreet as well.

“I could tell you a great story that involves a goat,” he continued.

Theron quickly cut him off, “And we’re done here.”

“A goat?” I asked.

“Excuse me?” a familiar voice cut through the conversation.  I looked up to find Kira and the Mirialan woman from the bar standing in front of the table.  Theron tilted his head at the intrusion and then a smirk crossed his lips.

“Hello ladies,” Jonas replied, “Having a fine evening?”

“Well, you see, this lovely lady beside me here has been waiting for some,” Kira paused a bit and looked at her companion, “Jonas Balkar was it?”

“Yes, Jonas,” the green-skinned lady nodded.

“Yes. She’s been waiting for quite some time. Perhaps you all could help us find him?”

“He’s right here,” Theron spoke up, nudging the Agent beside him.

“Oh? Well how lucky are we then,” Kira grinned. “Pity though.  I told her that if he didn’t show up, I’d happily spend some time with her.”

The Mirialan grinned, “Kira does seem to be far more entertaining company.”

“I would definitely not neglect you by bothering other patrons of the cantina.”

“Now ladies,” Jonas interrupted and got up out of the booth, taking his glass with him, “I’m sure I can come to some more fascinating arrangement.”  He started to lead them both away from Theron and me.

Kira peeked back over her shoulder and winked.

“Huh, he was supposed to be meeting someone himself,” Theron mused to himself.

I raised an eyebrow over at him.  “Are you filing this away for later?”

“Absolutely.”

I shook my head with a laugh.  “I suppose I’m not supposed to ask you about the goat?”

Theron’s expression of mirth melted into one of dread.  “Please don’t.”

“Aw,” I pouted slightly, “It sounds funny.”

He grumbled and took a long sip of his own beverage.

“Fine.  I won’t.”  I elbowed him in his arm.  “Lighten up. The night is still yet young.”

He nudged me back and then smirked.  “More dumplings then?”

“Yes.”  I nodded, taking one of the still warm dumplings from the platter and offering it to him. “Very much yes.”

[resol-nare]

Fictober ‘18 - Day 1

I’ve, uh, never done anything like this before. But since October is absolutely my most favorite time of the year, I’d thought I’d try to do something new. I’m trying to knock the rust off of my writing, trying to kick out my now years-long struggle with “writers-block” or whatever you call being completely unmotivated to even try to write. I can’t really think of a better way to do it than this so... Here goes nothing?

Fic Title: Neon Lights

Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic

Prompt: “Can you feel this?”

Warnings: Minor language use, some violence.

Characters: Theron Shan/Valkryie Drackon(Imperial Agent, post-SOR and pre-Ziost)

---------

Nar Shaddaa. Why was it always Nar Shaddaa? In normal circumstances, Valkryie wouldn’t want to be caught dead on the Smuggler’s Moon. But Nar Shaddaa’s neon lights and the glittering promise of a safe haven was a magnet to all things decrepit. And where decrepit goes, Valkryie was sure to follow. It was how she survived being a ghost; how she long kept Imperial operatives off her back, often losing them in the grit. Didn’t want to get their hands dirty, avoid complications, and Valkryie was as dirty and complicated as they came.

But all that was in the past, and she had a new station now. Commander of Sith Intelligence. It was an impressive title, intimidating to boot. But what did commanders do? She’d seen them at work, ordering about their pawns as they stayed safely away. But not Valkryie. She was always the first to sniff out a conspiracy and take it down, but she somehow missed one. No one knew what was happening, only that Theron Shan was at the center of it. That’s why when Lana Beniko, the newly appointed Minister of Sith Intelligence, approached her with this mission, she briefly entertained the thought of refusing. Not only did it seem secondary to the larger threat of the resurrected(was he ever really dead?) emperor, but the fact that Theron Shan could so deftly keep her away from it was... concerning, to say the least.

That’s why now, amidst the scum of the galaxy, hidden away in the shadows of a back alley, Theron’s weight and a sharp vibroknife at her side holding her still against the wall, she thought she made a mistake. There was very obviously something wrong here, and it was maddening in the way that it seemed to escape her. Valkryie’s cold grey eye stared coolly back at Theron’s serious face, the cybernetic eye patch in her left socket furiously running data, trying to figure out why, why why why would he do this? Not in all their time together had she seen Theron like this, so detached and cold. That was her thing. Never his. This was a disturbing rearrangement of roles. What have you lost, Theron Shan? What are you trying to regain?

“Damn you, Shan.” Valkryie hissed, and Theron pushed his forearm against her throat, putting a stop to any words trying to find their way out of her mouth. She wrapped both her hands around his wrist, but he shushed her as if he were speaking to a child, not a metaphorical ghost, and she felt the tip of his vibroknife dig into her skin. Against her better instinct, she squirmed against the blade’s bite, already feeling blood beginning to well in the afflicted area. Stars, not like this... Not on this moon... Not by his hand.

“Can you feel this?” Theron’s voice was dark and unsettling, enough so that she stilled and stared back at him. Uncertain of his intentions, she slowly nodded. Theron removed his arm from her throat, just as the wall he was holding her against began to shake. Dust clouded their vision, the blinking lights in both of their implants penetrating the smog. Much like Nar Shaddaa’s neon lights.

“Did you feel that?” Theron asked again, but didn’t wait for an answer. In a blink of two seconds, he had let her go and vanished, leaving her coughing and gasping for air as she fell to her knees, and with more concerns than when she came. 

[queen-scribbles]

One Day I’ll Learn

Shameless Spy Nerds fic brought to you by this and a prompt from @shimmer-like-agirl “This is almost exactly the opposite of what I meant” Set somewhere between KotFE and KotET

One day, Jaaide thought grimly, one day she would learn. Intel could only get you so far, rarely knew everything, and was usually wrong about something. Sometimes that something was small. Other times, like now, it was big enough to blow the whole mission to hell.

“They have a walker,” Theron groused, crouching further down in their shared hiding place. “They weren’t supposed to have a walker. Just ground troops.” He peeked out again and swore. “Alene and I will be having words about what thorough means when we get back.” A laser bolt scored the wall above their heads. “If we get back.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” Despite the protest, part of her wondered if he was right. Facing more enemy troops than anticipated was bad, but workable. A walker, though, she wasn’t sure what to do about that. The two of them on foot against a kriffing walker was... awful. Especially without the element of surprise.  “Theron...”

He looked over at her, both of them flinching as more blasterfire pocked the wall. “You can’t think of anything either, can y-” He cut himself off and risked another look out from behind the duracrete barrier that had sheltered them so far.

Jaaide brushed blood away from a small cut on her cheek. She knew that look.  “What?”

“That’s a remote walker. They’re gonna need a minute to warm it up, aren’t they?” Theron’s eyes darted around the hanger they needed to cross.

“Yes, but only literally a minute,” she replied. Please tell me you’re not-

“I got an idea,” he said with a smirk.

Of course you do. “Hope it’s a good one.”

“Aren’t they always? Don’t answer that.” He grimaced apologetically. “Much as I hate to ask, think you could distract them for a few seconds?”

She nodded, yanking her holdout blaster from its boot holster. “Don’t die.”

The cocky grin was back. “Do m’best.” He stole a kiss and was gone.

Before their foes could start tracking him, Jaaide unclipped one of her last thermal detonators from her belt, primed it, and tossed it at a small cluster of gunmen. The explosion obliterated them and gave her an opening to spray blaster fire on the remaining troops. It was only a few seconds before they recovered enough to shoot back, but it was certainly an attention grabber. Jaaide alternated between hiding behind the duracrete and peppering her opponents with blaster bolts, scanning for Theron whenever she got the chance.

She finally found him, halfway up the scaffolding of the walker charging station, and almost swore. She knew what he was trying to do, and while it was a good idea, he was going to get himself killed. Already planning to give him an earful of the We’re both supposed to get out of here alive variety, Jaaide primed and threw her last detonator, not even looking where it went. She just needed the explosion to distract anyone from noticing her idiot boyfriend as he yanked open a maintenance panel.

“Jaaide.” Theron’s voice crackled over her private comms and she dropped back behind the duracrete.

“What’re you doing?” she hissed back.

“Got a better idea?” he challenged. Five whole heartbeats passed as she tried in vain to come up with something less suicidal. “That’s what I thought. This’ll work, we’ll just have to take different routes out of here.”

“Theron-”

“I’ll meet you back at the ship.”

“Theron, no-”

He was already gone. Jaaide briefly considered comming back, but she didn’t want to distract him. She instead fired off one more spray of blaster shots into the array of enemies still standing. Even as they dove for cover, the walker lurched to life.

Oh, stars. Jaaide started mentally plotting an exit route that hopefully wouldn’t get her killed. Once her path was set, she cast one last look at the walker, its guns whining as they tracked for a target and started moving. Sure wish my stealth generator hadn’t shorted out. But it had, so she’d have to manage without. One day I’ll learn to bring spares for that part...

And the the walker fired. The massive energy bolt slammed into the hanger wall-- a good twenty feet behind her. The strafing laser bolts that followed were also aimed at the opposite end of the hanger. Jaaide grinned as she dodged from pylon to shipping crate, clinging to what shadows there were and avoiding any cover that looked potentially explosive. Of course Theron had messed with the targeting systems in addition to whatever else he’d done.

She was almost to her door of choice when there was a loud clatter behind her, followed by the hideous whining shriek of metal bending ways it didn’t want to. The walker had tripped. She paused by the door for a moment to watch it teeter and crash down atop near a dozen of its allies.

And one fueling station. The initial fireball took out the walker, the fueling station, and almost all the remaining enemy troops. The secondary one blew open a good chunk of the hanger.

Oh, hell. Jaaide dropped to a crouch to avoid debris and pressed one hand to her comms. “Theron?!”

“...Well, that didn’t go as planned,” his voice came back. He sounded winded, and she heard him grunt in pain. “But it worked.”

“A little too well,” Jaaide shot back, heart racing. “I’m coming back-”

“No, I don’t want you getting caught if something else blows up.” He coughed, making her wonder how close he was to the reeking smoke spilling up from the destroyed fuel node. “I’m fine, Jaaide,” he insisted, despite the hitch in his voice that made her pretty sure he was lying.

I’ll be the judge of that. She growled in frustration. “And what if something else does blow up? I don’t want to lose you, either.”

“I’m at a door. Just have to hotwire it and I’ll be out in a minute, tops. Nothin’ to worry about. I’ll see you back at the ship.”

Still growling her frustration at his heroics--but acknowledging he had a point--she smacked the door controls and darted out of the hanger. Her ship was just a short walk, in keeping with the (faulty) intel leading her to believe there wasn’t a large enemy presence here. Jaaide reached it in a matter of minutes and began pacing tight, nervous loops at the base of the boarding ramp. She’d only made it up to ten on so when the undergrowth rustled.

“You worry too much,” Theron commented as he came into view, looking rather worse for wear. Not as bad as Ziost, but pretty close.

“Only when you and explosions are involved in the same scenario,” Jaaide retorted, sighing slightly in relief. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Theron grinned wearily, and followed her up the ramp.

-<>-

It didn’t take long to get them up, cloaked, and heading as far away from this snafu as possible. Jaaide set the autopilot and went looking for Theron. To her mild surprise, he was actually in the medbay, rather than retreating to one of the crew bunks and pretending that was sufficient. It made her wonder just how much he hurt that she hadn’t had to shoo him in here.

“I rather distinctly recall telling you not to die,” she commented as she watched him gingerly shrug off his jacket. It looked singed, she noted, and frowned. 

“And?” he grunted, verging on testy. A hiss of pain escaped as he worked off his shirt with the same care as his jacket.

“This is almost exactly the opposite of what I meant,” Jaaide said, fighting to keep her voice level as she collected the diagnostic scanner, kolto injector, and bacta patches. Lots of bacta patches.

“The key word there being ‘almost,” Theron pointed out. He shifted wrong and grimaced. “I’m fine, or will be.”

“This is not fine,” she snapped, lightly poking one of his fresh bruises as the scanner warmed up and did its job. Various cuts, burns, and a couple broken ribs tallied up on the screen. “It’s also far too common. Just once could you have a good idea that doesn’t almost” -she sarcastically emphasized the word- “get you killed?!”

“Sorry, those are my specialty,” he shot back. “Ow!”

Jaaide instinctively snatched her hand back at his bark of pain, but then curled it around his arm again and pressed the kolto injector against his bicep(maybe less gently than she could’ve). “It’s your own fault. What, did you get yourself blown up?”

“....More or less. I wasn’t expecting the damn thing to trip,” Theron grumbled between clenched teeth. “Not that fast, at least. And definitely not on top of a kriffing fuel node.” He grimaced as she brushed another sore spot. “Ow.”

Jaaide hesitated, eyeing the locations of some of his injuries, and then scrambled up to kneel on the medbay table so she could reach. “I didn’t think you were. But these things keep happening, Theron.” She smoothed a bacta patch over a cut on his shoulder and he flinched. “I’m getting really tired of your solutions meaning I have to do this.” Another bacta patch, this one over a burn on the back of his hand.

He hissed sharply. “Can’t say I’m a huge fan of it myself-ow-much as I enjoy your company-ow!”

His instinctive pulling away from her trying to apply a bacta patch over his broken ribs nearly cost Jaaide her balance. “Dammit, Theron!”

“It hurts,” Theron said defensively as she finished smoothing on the patch.

“I figured that,” Jaaide retorted sharply. Stars help her, she loved the man, but she was this close to knocking him out to make him hold still “You’re a mess. Where doesn’t it hurt?!”

“Here,” he shot back, holding up the hand she hadn’t bandaged, palm toward her.

Her gaze flicked between in and his face briefly before she leaned in and very deliberately--defiantly--kissed the center of his palm. It was that or face down the rising temptation to bop him.

Theron blinked, fingers curling in as if to capture the lingering sensation as  he let his hand drop. The bandaged one rose to tap the corner of his jaw. “That’s not too bad.”

Jaaide grinned this time as she leaned in to kiss the spot he’d indicated. He was a smart man, so it was absolutely not a surprise when he shot her a look just shy of smirking and rested two fingers against his lips. She was a bit skeptical of the implicit claim they didn’t hurt, considering the cut that split the lower one. But maybe everything else hurt badly enough for that not to register. Not that it mattered. She gently cupped his jaw with both hands and kissed him.

There was a half second delay before Theron kissed her back, his bandaged hand rising again to cup the side of her face and card into her hair.

By the time they parted for air, Jaaide’s irritation had largely fizzled and the painkillers in the kolto had kicked in, making Theron significantly less touchy. That was good, considering Jaaide found a couple more cuts and another minor burn on the side of his neck she needed to bandage.

“You’re going to be more bacta than human,” she commented, bemused, as she carefully pressed a bacta patch over the burn on his neck.

“I’m used to it,” Theron joked, scratching at the edge of the patch.

Jaaide tried to smile, but couldn’t hold it long, gingerly running her thumb over a nasty bruise on his cheek. “I wish I wasn’t,” she whispered frankly. “I wish you getting this beat up wasn’t a regular enough occurrence for me to be used to it. Every time it happens I worry I’m going to lose you, and Theron, I can’t...”

“Hey,” he said softly, covering her hand with his. “I’m still here, and I’m sorry for scaring you. Guess I’m still adjusting to the couple thing. Being part of one, I mean. I’ll try to work on that, and only be reckless and stupid when I absolutely have to.”

“Oh, of course, you wouldn’t be you if you stopped entirely,” Jaaide teased, pulling away and kissing his forehead before bandaging the last of his injuries. “If I tell you to rest and let the painkillers kick in, what are the odds of you listening to me?”

“Pretty decent, actually,” Theron replied around a yawn he was careful not to let get too wide. “The adrenaline’s wearing off and everything’s sore.”

“It must be, if you’re not going to argue at all,” she said with a fond smile as she climbed down from the table. “There’s always at least a token protest.”

“Maybe I’m trying to humor my girlfriend who wants me to be more careful,” he teased, kissing the top of her head before she could move away.

“Hmm, maybe she appreciates that,” she teased back, putting things away.

“Maybe I appreciate her.” Theron pulled his shirt back on even more gingerly than he’d taken it off. “Tell you what though, I’ll appreciate it even more if she lets me get some rest. Those were medic’s orders.”

“Indeed they were,” Jaaide chuckled. She tugged him in for one last kiss before leaving the medbay. Theron headed for one of the crew bunks in search of a more comfortable bed and Jaaide to the cockpit to watch over the controls.

Her heart didn’t slow down until they were almost back to Odessen. One day she’d learn to be alright with the risks inherent in the job, the risks Theron took far too frequently in her opinion. But it probably wouldn’t be anytime soon.

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

I was so tempted to have Jaaide be the grouchy injured one, you have no idea. Largely because she’s the medic and doctors make the worst patients and all that. Also, snarky banter as Theron tries to get her to stare him in the eyes so he can tell if she has a concussion. Stuff like that. (also, I know in-game you don’t get I love yous with Theron until the end of KotET, but he and Jaaide said it in Liar, Liar, so them being relatively casual about the fact they love each other is common now)

[uldren-sov]

frost

and now for something completely different

Talked about Tython a little bit, how about New York New Adasta on Ziost?

There’s always the illusion of “more time.” There’s always going to be more time to visit once more, more time to skate on that tourist trap of an ice rink, more time to revel in the closest thing that the Empire had to “multiculturalism”, --

-- more time to finally visit a father you haven’t spoken to in three years.

No one is ready when the timer starts counting down. When there’s no time left. When war comes from within and abroad, counting down to the end. No more time for niceties, no more time for tender moments, time is up. Now it was just a race against time invariably to that end. Ziost was placed on a countdown, New Adasta was the epicenter of it’s apocalyptic tick.

Elora couldn’t ignore the call, even if she wanted to. She worked for the Empire; but New Adasta was her home. She didn’t ask for permission, the singular time when she relied on forgiveness being the easier option - even with, even with the lack of forgiveness in this place. Hell, she barely understood the word herself. But this was the time she needed any form of it she was willing to get.

Both feet on the icy, snow swept ground, and she thought maybe this is what stepping into a nightmare was like. She watched her ship pull back into the sky as she peeked over a ridge just outside the city. Small teams were fighting soldiers in black armor alongside soldiers in white armor being marionetted with a red haze in a sick farce of combat. Soldiers who had been disabled rose, pulled back to their feet with that unseen force. But when a shot off arm or foot didn’t stop them, a lightsaber through their torso, a shot between their eyes, did. She lept right into the middle of it. They had to break ranks, they had to start the evacuation.

She tried not to think about how dangerous a word like “retreat” was to the people of the Empire.

The seeking, insidious, press of a consciousness felt around her mind for weaknesses, her vision went hazy with red more than once. Kill them, it whispered, kill them all, the bloodshed will be glorious, the fight unlike anything you could ever imagine, and you will know glory for eternity. She fought against that as she fought against the unfortunate standing forces on New Adasta and those that came on the heels of the Republic’s attack. She fought against the now trapped Republic troops who could now never tell the tale as to why fighting on Imperial soil was foolish and fatal. She fought against her fellow Sith and Jedi who couldn’t fight against the prodding, promising, voice of some Dark being. She killed them all.

It was days later when intelligence was spread that death seemed to make the force stronger. There wasn’t time for grief and second guessing when she barely allowed for time to rest.

She traded her lightsabers for electrical vibroblades - hardly better than stun batons, her power from the familiar to the experimental - inefficient, exhausting, yet necessary. In the span of a week more lightning left her fingers than it had in her whole life prior. It was all in the furious hope of shocking troops and civilians, armed with their personal weapons, into unconsciousness; stopping their connection to their puppeteer instead of their hearts. It worked. Sometimes.

The controlled troops would fight, die or be rendered unconscious, and then evacuations could start - people escaping their homes for the first time in a week and military brought in to recover the bodies of the soldiers that fell. Neighborhood by grueling neighborhood, street by street, land would be won and cleared. In one breath she tore through the streets in an unseeing fury, hands and feet bleeding and broken after fighting and disabling so many tortured troops faceless, helpless pawns. In the next breath she hoped fiercely she wouldn’t find anything familiar, anyone familiar. There was no time for heartache. Not now. Not amidst this waking nightmare fresh of her own worst fears.

She felt liquid pool in her boots with every step she took, saw the red hand print on her blades, saw her blood seep and push through through the cortosis weave of her gloves every time she made a fist. Though the snow and sleet chapped her lips and froze the cuts and red trails down her face, the lightning that licked her hands and arms kept her warm. She lost track of that precious time in the chaos, telling it only by the color of her bruises when she could manage to find a spare bed in a medical tent. She would pull and watch the blood stretch between her hands and gauntlets, her greaves and feet, when a medical droid would set her fingers and toes; again and again for days on end. She thrived on the pain as much as on spare, cold, rations - she was never so happy to be Sith as she was when such desperate fighting broke out.

The massive chrono display in the main square of New Adasta still kept the time and date, even despite this hell. 13 days, five hours, 23 minutes and 47, 48, 49 seconds since she landed. Teams had made it from the outskirts of the city to here, the center. Things were going well, maybe. But time was up, at least for her.

“Enough with the heroics, Aesis,” she heard over her comm. Maybe it wasn’t forgiveness, maybe it was a strike against her position, but looking around her she couldn’t be bothered to care. This is what she fought for at the end of every day, this. Not her position.

Bodies stretched out for as far as she could see, a layer of snow covered ruined bodies, streets, and the infrastructure here in Adas Square, the only movement was the soft howl of frigid wind throwing flurries of red snow into the air and the ever tick up of the seconds on the massive display.

Whatever heroics she was accused of, this? This didn’t feel heroic. But her time was up. She called for an evac and watched her home fall away for as long as she could as she stood at the exit hatch.

Hours in a private, windowed, room on an emergency pre-fab space station just out of Ziost’s orbit fitted for her to connect with the Dark Lord. No, it wasn’t forgiveness; yes, it was a warning, so she tuned out the rest. She stood for ceremony and paid far more attention to a wound weeping above her brow and how a new drip traveled down the red venom lines on her face. She was dismissed with an order to return to her post.

She stilled when she felt it.

And with the smallest gasp, she watched it happen.

Ziost’s time had finally run out.

[mylife-foryours]

gratuitous screencaps & questions for an’dante

1. What is their gender? ... woman-ish?

2. What is their sexuality? Ace-ish, bi-ish. Complicated by a combination of trauma & who she is as a person.

3. Do they have any siblings? How many? Are they older or younger?  Which sibling are they the closest with? No siblings; when she was 3-4 she was... fostered? by her grandparents, and there were a few cousins who lived in the same apartment complex, but she was a very solitary child.

4. What’s their relationship with their parents like? What about other relatives? Her memories of her parents are vague and patchy - her father’s callused hands, her mother’s deep voice singing a Zabraki lullaby. On the other hand, she remembers her grandparents very well. She understands them well enough to know why they left her on the streets of Sobrik, and on good days she can even sort of sympathize - starvation is a hideous way to die. So she isn’t going to, like, hunt them down and murder them, but she has no interest in ever seeing them again, either.

6. What would they give their life for? Orro.

7. Are they in a romantic relationship? With who? How did they meet? She’s in something with Orro. When they first met, Orro had been cornered by a group of offworld thugs, and An’Dante went after them like a feral alley cat. She won more through the element of surprise and nascent Force abilities than anything else, but it was still enough to begin a fast friendship with Orro.

8. What do they believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them? Either she’ll stop existing entirely, or she’ll become a Force ghost. As appealing as it might be to continue to influence the galaxy even after she’s dead, the fact that ghosts can be bound & their entire self made into a battery for someone to tap makes that prospect singularly terrifying. Even when she was a slave, it was only ever her body that could be broken and fucked and drained of blood. Death wasn’t an ideal escape, but it was always there. No such luxury if her ghost is bound. Nonexistence isn’t ideal, but it’s preferable to that.

9. What is their favorite color? Favorite animal? Her favorite color is sunset red, and her favorite animal is a tooka cat, but the one that I associate with her is a snake, both for the obvious reasons and because of the death/rebirth symbolism.

10. What are some of their talents/skills? Rhetoric, blackmail, politics in general. On a more benign note, unearthing/handling delicate artifacts and translating ancient texts in a way that’s both faithful and aesthetically pleasant.

11. If they could make a mark on history, what would they like it to be? Empress of the Sith Empire, Conqueror of the Republic, the Great Liberator of Korriban. (Practically, she understands that she’d be better off as a combination shadow hand & eminence grise, but she’s not above the appeal of shiny titles).

12. How old are they? When is their birthday? She’s nineteen during the Sith Inquisitor prologue, but not exactly sure when her birthday is.

13. What do they do for fun? Watch drama-heavy serial shows (ideally w/ Fene or, later on, Talik’ime) and snark at them.

14. What is their favorite food? How often do they get to eat it? She’ll eat pretty much anything and enjoy it, but she really loves seafood and rare meat.

15. What was something their parents taught them? Not to get too ANGST-HEAVY, but by omission, probably “you’re an unwanted burden, and will be left behind as soon as it’s physically possible”.

16. Are they religious? Sort of - she’s Sith, and takes the code seriously, but her own interpretation of it is pretty heretical.

17. Where were they born? Small farming village on the outskirts of Sobrik.

18. What languages can they speak? Where did they learn these languages? She’s a native speaker of Basic & Zabraki, picked up Huttese and snippets of Mando’a in her early-mid adolescence, and learned Old Sith during her apprenticeship to Lord Volcari. Later on she tries to pick up Chenuch as part of her bid to insinuate her power base into Imperial Intelligence, and expands her knowledge of Mando’a with Fene’s help.

19. What is their occupation? Dark Council member.

20. Do they have any titles? How did they earn them? She blackmailed Darth Vox into promoting her to Dark Lord of the Sith before murdering her and abandoning what was left of her corpse in a decaying orbit around Korriban’s sun. Approximately two years later, she escaped Jedi custody with a fair number of stolen relics and detailed knowledge of Tython’s defenses, earning the name Darth Moriah. She became the leader of the Assassin’s Pyramid after defeating Darth Rictus in a Kaggath, and operated as Empress Acina’s unofficial Hand between the destruction of Ziost and the end of KOTET.

Personality:

21. What is their favorite thing about their personality? Her wit.

22. What is their least favorite thing about their personality? Her sensitivity.

23. Do they get lonely easily? Yes, but she’s relatively good at dealing with it.

24. Do you know their MBTI type? INTJ

25. What is their biggest flaw? God, so many. But probably the worst, ethically and in terms of her relationships, is that she’s cruel.

26. Are they aware of their flaws? Sort of. She knows that she’s cruel, but she thinks that her greatest flaw is that she’s weak-willed and dithers over Doing What Needs To Be Done.

27. What is their biggest strength? Her adaptability.

28. Are they aware of their strengths? Yes - some of her arrogance is bravado, but not all of it.

29. How would they describe their own personality? That would depend entirely on who was asking.

30. When frightened, will they resort to “fight” or “flight”? http://pete-walker.com/codependencyFawnResponse.htm

31. Does this character ever put somebody else’s needs before their own? Who do they do this for? How often do they do this? She’d do just about anything for Orro, including framing & executing her own apprentice for treason, but she’d put a lot on the line for Fene, too. She tries to be sparing with displays like that, though - it’s an expenditure of resources, emotional and otherwise. Cryptarch’s qualm and all that.

32. What is their self esteem like? Not great.

33. What is their biggest fear? How would they react to having to face it? Being enslaved again - no surprises there. She’d go nuclear if faced with that - no concern for collateral damage or her own survival, just fighting her way out with claws and lightning and teeth, or, failing that, putting her own lightsaber to her heart.

34. How easily do they trust others with their secrets? With their life? An’Dante’s secrets stay under lock and fucking key.

35. What is the easiest way to annoy them? In terms of annoyance (rather than blind rage), probably telling her that she’s overreacting to something. 

36. What is their sense of humor like? Give an example of a joke they would find humorous. Dark & ironic, with a particular fondness for wordplay and last-minute twists. Pretty much any of these would have her howling.

37. How easy is it for them to say “I love you”? Do they say it without meaning it? Very difficult. She’s said it to.... maybe two people in her life, probably?

38. What do others admire most about their personality? Either her intelligence or her tenacity.

39. What does their happily ever after look like? After winning Orro over to her cause, crushing the Republic hypocrites and their Jedi lackeys, uniting a reformed empire under her rule (with someone else as a figurehead, naturally), freeing the slaves and hanging the masters by their own intestines, I imagine that she’d like to spend her time researching poetry fragments and teaching freed slave children to read.

40. Who do they trust most? Is that trust mutual? She trusts Orro & Orro doesn’t trust her, but Orro is quite trustworthy (& predictable) while she’s decidedly neither.

Physical Profile:

41. What does their laugh sound like? Do they snort when they laugh? How often do they laugh? Quiet and spiteful; if she laughs, it tends to be at people, not with them.

42. What is their favorite thing about their physical appearance? Thanks to her Zabrak mother, she has very sharp, prominent canine teeth, which make her sneer look much more intimidating.

43. What is their least favorite thing about their physical appearance? Probably the brands on her face. But for the same reasons that she doesn’t have any tattoos, she’s not going to get any kind of surgery to remove/cover them up. They’re a reminder.

44. Do they have any scars? If so, what are the stories behind those scars? Per her in-game appearance, she has brands/burn scars on the left side of her face. She also has heavy whip scars on her upper back, a fractal lightning scar that wraps around her torso (result of the one (1) time she mouthed off to Overseer Harkun), and some minor chemical burns from her experiments with poisons and forbidden artifacts.

45. How would they describe their own appearance? She probably wouldn’t, honestly.

46. How easily can they express emotions? How easily can they hide emotions? Hiding her feelings is pretty much second nature. She can express Sith-standard emotions quite well, and quite genuinely - she’s got a lot of anger and fury bottled up, even if it isn’t really directed at heretics - but sadness, fear, and the rest are more difficult.

47.  What’s their pain tolerance like? High.

48. Do they have any tattoos? What are the stories behind those tattoos? No tattoos, and no plans to get any - she’s  played with the idea of getting Sith tattoos to deflect from criticisms of, ahem, heterodoxy, but that would require allowing someone very very close to her face with very very sharp objects, and that’s a hard nope.

49. Do they have any piercings? Nope.

50. How would you describe their style of clothing? How would they describe their style of clothing? Semi-ceremonial light armor with flowy bits & a pronounced inclination towards the dramatic vs. “Robes befitting my station”.

51. What is their height? Weight? 5′3, 210 pounds.

52. What is their body type? Are they muscular, chubby, skinny, etc? Fat, with some core muscle strength.

53. What is their hair color? Eye color? Skin tone? She has warm brown skin and black hair. Her eyes are naturally brown, but intense dark side use shifted them to a molten gold color by the end of Act I. Faded back to brown while she was on Tython (Light Side-suffused environment + force-nullifying cuffs), then went orange/gold again after she escaped. At this point she’s had enough corruption/redemption whiplash that they’re kind of eerie pale grey with red limbal rings.

54. What is their current hairstyle? What have been some of their past hairstyles? Which was their favorite hairstyle? For the first sixteen years of her life, she kept her hair short, both for practicality - she couldn’t wash often, and didn’t want it getting caught in anything - but also so that no one could grab it. Upon being taken as Lord Volcari’s apprentice, she began growing it out. Mostly she left it down, but Fene would sometimes put it up in braids, which was her favorite. After being held captive on Tython, she chopped her hair off to about chin-length, and kept it there until she made Darth. It started coming in white after Ziost, but that was largely a moot point, since by then she had signed on as Acina’s left hand & was wearing a mask and hood. After her final break with the empire, she cut off the few inches that were still dark brown/black, so her endgame haircut is a blunt, chin-length bob.

55. What is their alcohol tolerance like? What kind of drunk are they? How bad are their hangovers? It’s not so much

56. What do they smell like? Why do they smell like this? (Is it the things they’re around or a perfume they wear?) If she smells like anything, it’s mostly old books and tomb-dust. Doesn’t actually smell like blood as often as you would think - she usually kills people via some sort of proxy, and even if she's in a straight-up duel, lightsaber wounds tend to cauterize quickly.

57. How do they feel about sex? Are they a virgin? Doesn’t like sex, not a virgin, the specifics are predictably related.

58. What is their most noticeable physical attribute? Probably her nose; it’s not very noticeable on her in-game model, but I always draw her with a big beaky nose.

59. What does their resting face look like? Do they have RBF? Carefully blank.

60. Describe the way they sleep. Deeply and overlong, now that she doesn’t have to wake at dawn or earlier. It’s one of the few luxuries she can partake of without any guilt.

Environment:

61. Which season is their favorite season? Obligatory “seasons work differently on other planets” stipulation aside, probably autumn.

62. Have they ever been betrayed? How did it affect their ability to trust others? She was baited into an “escape attempt” by one of the overseer’s quislings when she was about thirteen, and never made that mistake again.

63. What is always guaranteed to make them smile? Ironic reversals of fortune.

64. Do they get cold easily? Do they get overheated easily? Gets overheated more easily than she gets cold.

65. What’s their immune system like? Do they get sick often? How do they react to getting sick? Since she’s half-Zabrak, her immune system is hella weak. She hates the vulnerability that comes with being sick, and tends to shut herself up in her compound with enough reading material for several weeks and enough painkillers to wipe out a small army.

66. Where do they live? Do they like it there? She has a compound on Korriban with one of the larger collections of Old Sith epic poetry in Imperial space.

67. Is their bedroom messy? What about their bathroom? Kitchen? Living room? Probably her quarters as a whole have a comfortable level of clutter - there’s some automated cleaning, but she refuses to use cleaning droids, and doesn’t have much time to clean on her own.

68. How did their environment growing up affect their personality? Significantly, but not indelibly.

69. How did the people in their environment growing up affect their personality? The fact that her grandparents wanted nothing to do with her and regarded her as a burden, and

70. How do they feel about animals? Do they have any pets? She likes them well enough, but feels uncomfortable with the idea of owning a living creature - she has some friends among the desert cats around her compound, though.

71. How are they with children? Do they have any? Do they want any? She’s okay with children, if a bit overprotective, but she’s never had any, and even if she physically could (like most half-Zabraks, she’s infertile) pregnancy is a terrifying idea for her. She’d even feel guilty about adopting a kid, since being associated with her would be Absurdly Dangerous - almost none of her rivals would hesitate to go after a child.

72.  Would they rather have stability or comfort? Comfort, largely because she doesn’t really believe that stability exists.

73. Do they prefer the indoors or outdoors? Indoors.

74. What weather is their favorite? Do they like storms? Her favorite weather is dry and slightly chilly, with a bit of a breeze. Enjoys thunderstorms as long as they’re not on Dromund Kaas.

75. If given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen? She’d practice her Old Sith calligraphy.

76. How organized are they? She’s a wee bit paranoid about committing things to paper, so her things are as organized as she can keep them in her head. When she’s doing well, it works fine. When she’s not...

77. What is their most prized possession? Either her saberstaff or the holocron that houses her ghost friend. Probably the saberstaff, since thinking about what’s essentially someone’s phylactery as her possession would probably make her queasy.

78. Who do they consider to be their best friend? Fene.

79. What is their economic situation? Probably pretty good - I imagine that Dark Council members get a hefty salary.

80. Are they a morning person or a night owl? Night owl.

Miscellaneous:

81. Are they bothered by the sight of blood? Sort of, but she’s had lots of time to get used to it.

82. What is their handwriting like? Neat & cursive-adjacent, but she writes with a very heavy hand, since she was almost twenty when she learned how.

83. Can they swim? How well? Do they like to swim? She can Sort Of stay afloat, and enjoys swimming so long as she can keep doing that. Deeper water makes her nervous, though, mostly because she’s spent so much time on Dromund Kaas: deep water is where the fish made entirely of teeth and pincers live.

84. Which deadly sin do they represent best? Fucking hell. Gonna say it’s a three-way tie between Pride, Envy, and Wrath.

85. Do they believe in ghosts? She literally keeps one in her pocket, so yeah.

86. How do they celebrate holidays? How do they celebrate birthdays? Hmmm... as a member of the Dark Council, there are probably certain state holidays that she’s expected to publicly celebrate, but on her own time I imagine that she keeps things low-key.

87. What is something they regret? Stabbing Orro in the back, physically and metaphorically. It’s worth nothing that this is at least partially because she didn’t actually get anything out of it - Jorgan recaptured her in fairly short order. (Part of her hadn’t really... adjusted to the fact that there were other people in Orro’s life by that point)

88. Do they have an accent? Xanthe Elbrick’s performance has grown on me a lot in my billion-odd playthroughs of a female Sith Inquisitor, but in my heart of hearts, An’Dante has a Slavic accent.

89. What is their D&D alignment? Neutral Evil.

90. Are they right or left handed? Left, but she’s trained herself to be ambidextrous.

91. If they were a tweet, what tweet would they be?

92. Describe them as a John Mulaney gif.

[keldae]

35. “Stay here tonight.” Any character :B

The Serenity came to a graceful halt on the landing pad, and her owner stepped out of the ship to survey Coruscant’s busy sky. Ziost was once full of life like this, Xaja silently mused to herself, drawing her robe tightly around her thin frame to ward off a chill, despite Coruscant’s regulated climate. Ziost had only been wiped of all life less than two weeks ago, and the memory was still too vivid in the Jedi’s mind. The feeling of panic not her own, the sounds of screams carrying through the Force despite the space separating Ziost from its orbital station, the terrible, consuming hunger, the dread, and then the awfulness of the void that consumed the planet…

“Easy, easy.” A hand on her shoulder brought her back to reality. Doc was standing behind her, looking grim and concerned like Xaja had never seen him before. “You sure you don’t want to go back to Tython and do whatever Force healing thing you Jedi do?”

Xaja shook her head. “Tython’s too… too…” At a loss for words, she just gestured out to the cityscape. “There’s more life here and I need to feel it.”

Doc didn’t quite understand- she could see it in his eyes. But he nodded. “Okay. You probably need to get off the ship anyway, you got a hell of a case of cabin fever. But give me or one of the rest of us a call if you need it, okay?”

“I will. I’ll probably just see if Korin’s on-world.” Xaja forced a small smile for Doc. “Don’t blow my ship up.”

“You spoil all our fun,” Doc said with a dramatic sigh that almost made Xaja giggle. “Rusk and I will restock on supplies while you’re gone.”

“Sounds good.” Xaja nodded and started off, pulling her holocom from her pocket and dialing in a frequency.

Korin, unfortunately, was in Hutt Space, looking among his underworld contacts for any news of Vitiate and not finding a hell of a lot, beyond reports of strange invaders attacking Korriban and other distant planets led by a set of near-identical twin commanders. “It’s probably some legend what’s gotten out of hand,” her brother had said. “We’ll look into it anyway.”

“Be careful, all right, little brother?”

“Yeah, I will be. Maybe check in on that Jedi we brought back from… there? Theron and I kinda got hustled off Tython before we could ask.”

“Yeah, I will. I’ll let you know.” Xaja disconnected the call and leaned up against a wall, thinking. She didn’t want to go back to her ship or return to Tython yet- she’d spent far too long already staring at the walls of her ship as though she’d find answers for Vitiate’s madness in the durasteel…

She tapped in another frequency into her comm link and sent a text message. >>

The answer came back quickly. >>

>> Xaja paused before sending another message. >>

The response was almost immediate. >>

Xaja let herself softly smile again as she plugged in the attached coordinates and flagged down a speeder taxi.

The apartment complex was modest, in a region of Coruscant that, while nowhere near the glittering towers of the wealthy, was far from a slum. Xaja hopped out of the taxi, paid the droid, and slipped inside the building. Up a few floors, down a hallway, around a corner and down another hallway until her feet led her to a plain, unmarked door. She didn’t need the simple “T. Shan.” nameplate beside the door to know where she was- she could feel his presence through the door, warm and soothing and real and alive.

The small Jedi tapped her fingers on the door, and seconds later the durasteel slid back to reveal Theron Shan. The disgraced spy said nothing, just gave Xaja a tired smile and stepped aside so she could enter the apartment. The moment the door slid closed again, Xaja all but launched herself into Theron’s arms and felt him cling back to her, burying his face in her loose hair. She hadn’t realized how much pent-up grief and tension she’d been carrying with her ever since she’d left Ziost’s ashes behind her until she felt Theron soothingly rubbing her back and realized she was shaking, tears escaping her eyes to stain his brown tee-shirt.

“It’s okay,” Theron whispered. “Please don’t cry. You’re okay here with me.” He pulled back from the tight hug to look Xaja in the eyes- and now the Jedi could see the worry in his gaze. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt?”

Xaja shook her head to both of his questions, letting go of him long enough to brush her sleeve across her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, already imagining the silent judgements Theron had to be making over seeing her break down like that. “It… It’s been a rough couple of weeks.”

Theron nodded and pulled her back against his chest. “For both of us,” he agreed, his voice low and grim like it had been the last time she’d seen him on the Fleet station. “It’s… not been good for anyone.”

Still with her face buried in Theron’s shirt, Xaja cast out with the Force to get a read on him. He still had his habitual mental shielding up, but Xaja didn���t try to pry past that- his surface emotions told her all she needed. Depression, uselessness, a guilt that threatened to consume him like Ziost had- Xaja quickly shook her head to clear her mind of that thought. “You feel terrible,” she mumbled into his chest.

Theron laughed, although the sound felt choked and forced. “Yeah, I do. And so do you apparently. Why else would you be here?”

“I missed you,” Xaja confessed. “I… need to feel someone or something alive. Ziost was…”

“I missed you too.” Theron tightened his arms across Xaja’s back. “I saw the reports and eyewitness accounts of what happened there. I can’t even begin to imagine what that felt like for a Force-user like you.”

“Awful.” Xaja felt herself tremble again despite Theron’s hold on her. “It was worse on the surface when-”

Theron froze. “You went back down there?!” He pulled Xaja back to stare her in the eyes, shock and horror radiating from him. “What were you thinking?!”

“I had to see if there was any way that anything or someone had maybe… if someone…” Xaja’s voice trailed away as she recalled her failure to find any hint of life on Ziost and the horror she’d endured by trying to use the Force on the dead planet. She’d thrown up then, and she was close to it now at the mere memory. “There wasn’t any life left,” she whispered. “Not so much as a weed.”

“I’m still stuck on ‘you went back down there’!”

“The air’s still breathable, and I wasn’t alone. Tee-Seven went with me.” Xaja shook her head at Theron’s scowl. “What was I going to meet down there?”

“I don’t know, maybe that same genocidal maniac who killed the planet?”

“He had no reason to stay. There was nothing left for him to- to…” Xaja’s voice broke and she looked away from Theron’s disapproving frown. “Theron, I had to at least try to find something, anything!”

“Blasted Jedi,” Theron grumbled, then paused and ran his thumb along Xaja’s cheekbone in a surprisingly-intimate gesture. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that, please don’t cry… I’m right here. You’re not there anymore.” Xaja hadn’t even realized there were tears on her cheeks again until Theron leaned in and kissed her forehead. “You’re safe here… as safe as a suspended spy who isn’t in anyone else’s good books can make you.” He couldn’t hide the bitterness and the regret and anger in his voice at that.

Xaja felt a bitter laugh escape her mouth as she tried to blink away the tears she hadn’t shed yet for Ziost and the horror she’d witnessed there. “We’re both wrecks, aren’t we?”

“A fine pair,” Theron deadpanned as he lowered his head to kiss her on the lips. Xaja felt something else in his touch as she kissed him back: his own pain, the crippling guilt, the worry, the fear that he probably refused to admit he felt… It was a long while before the pair pulled apart for air. “Stay here tonight,” he whispered, eyes closed and forehead pressed to hers. “I… I don’t want to be alone either.”

Xaja nodded and wrapped her arms tighter around Theron’s neck. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

“Anytime.” Theron tilted his head to kiss her cheek. “What do you need?”

“You.” Xaja stretched up to kiss Theron’s mouth again. “I’ve felt too much death already. Let me feel life again.”

“I can do that.” Theron caught one of her hands and shifted it down to rest over his chest as he kissed her again, his heart still beating reassuringly under Xaja’s fingers. The Force hummed with his presence, not as vivid as one sensitive to the Force, but still bright and steady and comforting to Xaja’s senses. Theron probably would never have any idea how much his presence was a healing balm to Xaja’s mind. There’s still life left in the galaxy. Vitiate can’t take all of it. There’s still hope while there’s life left.

[greyias]

Unsent Correspondence (5/10)

Title: Unsent Correspondence Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Synopsis: Theron hears back about those strange readings. He takes the news well. Warnings: See Part 1. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Crossposted to AO3 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

From: Theron Shan Subject: a toasT to uor heAlth

You would think that the shiny new center of civilization in the Galaxy would have a better selection of whisky — but apparently distilling a decent spirit is beneath them and most of the imports are sickly sweet concoctions that have no place near a liquor cabinet. I can see you rolling your eyes right now since you never had much of a taste for whisky — rather you would roll your eyes if they weren’t frozen with the rest of you. You should lighten up, whisky is GREAT and I have a bottle right here to prove it. Got an extra glass too so I’ll just pour you one. I was going to share with Lana but she got all snippy with me, so more for us. Just you and me.

Fair warning if you don’t drink yours by the time I finish mine I might just steal it. So drink up. This is the good stuff.

What are we raising our glass to you ask? Well, I guess you don’t really ask (because you’re frozen), but I’m just going to assume that’s the next part of this imaginary conversation I keep carrying on with you. Whatever — let’s toast everything, it’s a big bottle! The first will be to those brave, enterprising souls daring to smuggle such fine goods right under the nose of Emperor Law and Order. May their escape from this hell hole be as quick as their profits have been.

To this perfect shining city filled with idiots and sycophants, willing to turn a blind eye to the squalor and seediness just below the surface. I mean, Nar Shaddaa doesn’t attempt to hide what it is, it proudly displays its garish corruption in all its bright neon glory! No, it takes a special kind of hypocrisy to claim to be the best at literally everything without even knowing how to properly operate a goddamn carbonite chamber.

To the Emperor Asshole Supreme, who lies to everyone about you and is probably hiding something else. May this city and everything he cares about come crumbling around him in smoking ruins and burning ashes — and then maybe then he’ll know how it feels. Maybe I’ll show him. Like I was going to before Lana derailed that whole plan with this elaborate heist to steal his favorite wall hanging. Just need to find a way into that throne room and I could kill the man that killed you. Somehow. The galaxy would be a better place for it.

Oh, look you didn’t finish your glass. Looks like more for me.

And let’s have a toast to you — the voice in my head that never stopped whispering, even after you were dead. At first I thought you had actually come back, like one of those Force ghosts you told me about — haunting me every step of the way, second-guessing everything I was doing. I wanted to shove it away and hold it close at the same time — but it turns out you weren’t dead at all and I probably just went a little crazy. It couldn’t be grief though because you’re not dead and how can you mourn the living? Maybe I’ll make another toast for that.

To my enduring inability to hit the send button and commit to anything I actually want to say. Because I’ve gotten to used to talking to you when you’re not even here, missing you when you were never even gone.  I wanted to move on, but you just wouldn’t leave me alone. Always whispering in my ear when I was about to do something stupid, always staring back at me every time I closed my eyes — I even tried to drown you out with someone else once but I couldn’t even do that because all I could taste was our last kiss. Could never figure out exactly how much whisky it takes to wash that away. Guess I’ll just keep trying.

I need another refill. I told you this was the good stuff, it goes down way too easy.

And finally, to us — the broken us that never should have been. Making promises we could never hope to keep and thinking somehow we could actually save this doomed galaxy together. Except how could we do that when we can’t even talk to each other? You let me think things were okay, but they weren’t, were they? You felt the entire planet of Ziost die and you didn’t tell me. Then you went back there. What the hell were you thinking? What does taking readings of a dead wasteland prove other than you like to torture yourself? Why are you so damn stubborn? Why didn’t you say anything to me on Carrick Station? Did you think that I wouldn’t have stopped wallowing in my own self-pity for a moment to acknowledge your pain? I’m a talented guy, capable of berating myself AND hugging someone else at the same time!

I mean maybe I should have tried calling again, tried your personal holo instead of just the ship’s since your answering service sucks. Maybe I should have written. And maybe I shouldn’t have waited to talk to you in person the next time you came back to Coruscant because you never did come back, you just left that desolate landscape and headed out to Wild Space and straight into your carbonite tomb. And maybe I should have done all that but this is not all on me because maybe you should have said something to me because why did I have to find out from Doc of all people? That you weren’t sleeping because you were having nightmares? That you couldn’t meditate without Kira’s help? He said you acted like you had lost your best friend and damn it you hadn’t — I just needed some time to sort things out but if you had just told me what you were going through I would have gotten on that damn ship with you! Why can’t you just ask for help? Why do you keep everything inside? If you needed me for a moment, a night, or even forever why didn’t you just say so instead of letting me walk out that door thinking everything was okay?

One more glasss left? why the hell not?

I shuold hav known what we hd on Yavin was too good to be true that in teh end it wuold b just like everything else in my life. Bbut i got swept up in yer stuPid naivety   leT myself actualLy believe that youd actually keep your woRd ,…i mean its not your fault Not Really. yuU didnt ask to    be handedeD tHe responsibilility of an entire damn galaxy or to be zakZAKuuuuls political scapegoat or to be EXECUTED (& yes technically you werentT but thats beside the Point and im sure iVe got a point in here somewhere) & iM pretty sure you didnt ask to be frozen by the most inepT carbonite technicians in the ENTIER DAMN UNIVESRE cuz if U did then we need to talk but i GUess we arenT gonna get that cuZ yOUR GODDamn jailers are idiots & youjre being poisoned by the carbonite and theres no goddamn cure I asked i asked everyone on this planet who knew anything and ivE been trying to fix this and i cANt & you;re going to die

yuo promised you;dd never leave me behind but youre about to do it again and I GOADAJLNFLJHFAOFN AXH60826022 KVSLAMI26!#42 TSOUHSGDNSKDGSOUJLNWLHYSOUHGSGSEGSGS

  ERROR Connection to server lost Message not saved

[rainofaugustsith]

Rain Plays SWTOR: SOLO gearing 6.0

In my opinion the SWTOR devs have given solo players a hearty "fuck you" with 6.0, between an insufferably long gearing system, nerfed companions, much higher conquest targets (with solo-friendly activities like galactic rampage now removed) and overtuned content. It's why I'm not paying for a subscription anymore. Damn it, though, I like the game, I like hanging out with Viri and I still have characters who have not finished all the content. Even though I am not subscribed now, I invested in Artifact Authorization for my account so my characters can wear the good stuff.

Despite the fact that the devs seem to be heavily pushing people to group, I decided that my own "fuck you" to them would be getting Viri to 306 without grouping even once. And I did.

Almost. Her gear rating is 304, but hell, she's close, and she already has several 306 pieces. These aren’t the final stats I want for her (as she changes to moddable 306 pieces I’ll be adding back her augments and changing those relics) but she’s a beast again. 

The important takeaway from this post:

You do not need to group to get good gear, even at level 75. You do not need to do veteran flashpoints to get good gear. Good gear drops in the solo flashpoints too!

Do you "need" it?

I hate it when other players tell me I "don't need" certain gear, so I won't do that to you. It's a personal choice. The higher levels of gear do seem to compensate for at least some of the currently overtuned parts of the game. In other words even if you are not interested at all in the endgame you may wish to pursue the higher-end gear simply to do the other content more easily.

If you are not playing Onslaught (or not playing it yet) there have been numerous reports of other missions/areas being overtuned, including the Star Fortresses, Bowdaar's recruitment mission, walker combat in KOTET and Iokath, the H4s and some H2s, and better gear could help there.

Onslaught is supposed to be designed so that you gear up as you level up, ending the expansion with a full set of 268 gear and a tactical item. In my own experience going through Onslaught, some of my classes did okay with this system but others did not. All had similar gear ratings (242-252), at least some augments, and at least one or two level 50 influence companions (usually Lana, but also included Vette, Mako or Akaavi for some characters). My Sith Warrior and Jedi Knight were fine. My Smuggler died if an NPC looked at her the wrong way and really struggled to get through. My Bounty Hunter and Lightning Sorcerer had a few hiccups but managed.

My own preference will be to get my characters leveled to 75 and geared before hitting KOTET now. I don't think they all need to be 306. My test subject, canon Viri (who has not done Onslaught) was blazing through content by the time she was a 286. I will likely aim for at least that rating on all characters.

So you want the gear. Now what?

Okay. It's a long, mind-numbingly boring experience to gear up but if you hang onto enough stuff, you might be able to avoid going through this nightmare on more than one character. How can you get gear without grouping?

1. The easiest and most effective way is to run a lot of solo flashpoints. Over and over again (the same way the folks who group are doing with Hammer Station).

The shortest and simplest flashpoint (at least for me) is Korriban Incursion, followed by Depths of Manaan. By the time you hit a gear rating of 286ish, you can chew through either of these alone in less than 20 minutes. Black Talon is next, but one of the bosses only seems to drop crafting material (including those coveted isotopes) and the bonus boss now has a lot of very uncomfortable flashing lights.

I went through several of the longer flashpoints like Copero, False Emperor, Rakata Prime and Boarding Party, too. On Copero I had four gear drops instead of three thanks to the bonus boss, and some random green gear dropped from NPCs, but otherwise the longer flashpoints don't seem to offer any real advantage over the shorter ones. Thus, unless there's something else you want from the flashpoint (like decos or achievements), it seems most prudent to run the ones that will cause you the least trouble. You might get random pieces (usually green 270s) from enemies but overall, usually only three bosses will give you proper drops. There will be a sack of Grade 11 crafting materials, probably a mod or two, and at least one piece of gear. This is RNG. Sometimes you will luck out and get two pieces of gear you can use. Sometimes you will get nothing and will end up deconstructing it all. Viri has received tank gear, things she clearly can't use like blaster barrels, and 274 pieces when she's a 294. As far as I know it happens in the veteran group flashpoints too. Just deconstruct it, or set it aside for another character if you think they will want it.

Once you get past 300, I have noticed you will start getting a lot more mods, enhancements and armor/hilts/barrels. This is a good thing. These are the pieces you can set aside for alts.

2. Conquest.

It's harder to meet this goal now but it may be doable for you on one or two toons. During this exercise Viri reached her conquest goal of 50,000 points just by doing flashpoints and a couple of easy heroics on Tatooine and Korriban. The Conquest gear crates are in my experience good, and I've pulled numerous gold set pieces, so it's worth it to try to aim for the goal, and it can be done solo.

3. Chapters.

I was very surprised to get a gear crate when I finished Shroud of Memory. A character who was just finishing up KOTET received crates for her last two chapters, too. I think this replaces the gear that used to be given for KOTFE/KOTET chapters. It's in line with the other weekly/daily crates.

4. Onderon weekly/daily crates.

If you have a character who has gone through Onslaught, do ten missions for the weekly and six for the daily. There are some simple quests that can be done quickly. In my experience these crates provide little more than deconstruction fodder most of the time. However it's worth it, if only for the tech fragments. Aside from gear, there are some nice decos available at the reputation vendor so raising your Onderon rep isn't pointless.

5. Mek-Sha heroics.

Again, if you have a character who has done Onslaught. Not the best option for the planet - see #11 for an easier one. Both of the Mek-Sha heroics give gear crates and in my limited experience they have been good. However, the heroics are tuned very, very high. Viri's clone (Sith Warrior; Vengeance Juggernaut) with a gear rating of 300 had trouble. The final boss in the Matter of Respect heroic has more HP than many flashpoint bosses, and he's with two silvers. Dying in these heroics is expensive, too: the tune of 20,000 credits per repair bill. I don't think this really is a good option for most solo players, even if you want to run them once for the experience/achievements.

This is the final boss in the second Mek-Sha heroic. No, you’re not reading that  HP number wrong. 

6. Renown crates.

Instead of Command Levels, there are now Renown levels. It's the same overall concept: gain a level, gain a crate with a piece of gear (the fun stuff like pets and companion gifts are gone). The difference: you're not going to gear up via Renown. For all intents and purposes it's probably best to pretend Renown doesn't exist. It's not like Galactic Command where doing the weekly in Section X or Ziost will at least earn you a crate or two.

You need 1,600,000 points to get one Renown crate. Considering that the weekly areas now award between 7000-28,000 points and a flashpoint awards 2000-3000 (and that is WITH the full 25% boost), it's going to be a while before you earn even one crate. When you do, I might suggest hanging on to them until your rating is high to try to get better gear. In my limited experience (I think my characters combined have earned about ten Renown crates!) I don't think I've ever pulled any sort of useful upgrade out of these crates. Take the item and deconstruct it for tech fragments, don't disintegrate it. Consider anything useful to be a pleasant surprise.

7. Treasure Hunting missions

Level 10 lockbox missions return with gear. It's not highly rated, though. Deconstruct it for the tech fragments. 

8. Crafting

From what I have heard this is such a clusterfuck that it's not even worth attempting, with many mats required even for low-level gear. Skip this, I think.

9. LS/DS vendors

Apparently if you are willing to fork over all 100 of your LS or DS coins to the vendor you can get an equipment box. I wouldn't do this because it's now very hard to get LS/DS coins (see Renown). Once you blow them all you're not likely to get so many back. 10. Random drops

NPCs in heroics, flashpoints and open world may occasionally drop random pieces of gear, usually green 270ish stuff that may or may not be for your discipline. It's good to deconstruct.

11. Mek-Sha Tradehouse missions In your faction’s starting point on Mek-Sha, you will find a datapad. Click this to get a short mission to speak to a Nautolan NPC in Huttbreaker’s Compound. The NPC will tell you that you can do short “adventures” around the galaxy to help out Huttbreaker’s auction house.  Now check out the small clickable terminal to the left of the NPC. You will get a Weekly - Tradehouse Acquisitions - and a daily mission that will take you to either Rishi, Tatooine, Onderon, Nar Shaddaa or Dantooine. These missions are very simple - usually just gathering some clickable items or scanning several targets with provided macrobinoculars.  To complete the Weekly, you need to complete three Tradehouse Missions. You can only do one per day. It will award you a gold gear box, so it’s worth it. 

When you get gear:

Use a character that you can devote solely to gearing for a little while. Canon Viri has not done Onslaught, but she's my strongest character and my main, and she has nothing else to do right now. I decided to gear with her.

If a piece of gear is an upgrade, equip it immediately. The higher your overall gear rating, the more likely you are to get upgrades. This will screw with your stats for a while, but you can sort it out when you get to the 300s. If it's not an upgrade deconstruct it for tech fragments - the currency you will use to purchase gear later.

Once you get to the high 290s or 300s you may wish to start setting aside gear pieces for your alts instead of deconstructing them. ETA Gear is now legacy bound, so you can pass it from one character to the next (except for weapons, I found). If you are moving up to a 306 piece, for example, save that 304 for the next toon who might need it, and pass around the gear to everyone’s advantage. 

Mods: Viri kept her augmented mainhand and offhand weapons (lightsaber and focus). I ripped out mods/hilts as needed to upgrade those weapons. However, ripping mods is very expensive so you don't want to be doing this for all your right side pieces. Don't worry about mods until you get to the 300s. Just keep using the non-moddable gear as you progress. This includes mods that don't seem to suit your character. If a Barrage or Studious enhancement would take Viri from one gear level to another I used it.   Use Takanna: Takanna is the vendor who sells "unidentified" pieces for around 350 tech fragments each. The pieces are supposed to be at least your item rating or higher, and with the exception of left side and mods, are supposed to be for your discipline. 

 I used Takanna to get over the plateaus that Viri would hit sometimes, when she would reach a certain item rating and would not get anything higher from the flashpoint drops. Buying a higher rated set of boots or bracers (for instance) would sometimes be enough to get her to a higher overall gear rating and break the stalemate.   Once you reach your quitting point: You don't want to go all the way to 306? You're fine at 290 or 286 or 300? That's cool. This is where you either decide that you're going to augment the non-moddable gear you have or start playing with mods and those gold set pieces. It is VERY expensive to move around mods and augments, especially after you reach 300 (we're talking 450K to rip three mods, I'm not exaggerating), so I advise that you put them where you want them to stay.

Set bonuses: The old set bonus you had from your GEMINI or Ossus gear vanished when you hit level 75. I don't think the new ones are as good, but in some cases all you need are two pieces to get the bonus. Ostensibly you could therefore have three different set bonuses (2, 2, 2) operating at once.

Tacticals: Viri received two as random drops once she was in the 280s. You also receive one good all-around tactical at the end of Onslaught. I wouldn't be fussed about getting these. If you get one, great. If you have credits to burn check out the vendor on the fleet who sells them. Otherwise wait until you finish Onslaught.   Amplifiers: I DGAF about these. Re-rolling the amplifiers is a large credit sink for (IMHO) small boosts. I personally am not bothering with re-rolling anything. Viri has what she has on her gear and I'm not worried about changing what is there.However, re-rolling an amplifier will now give you Conquest points, so you may decide to re-roll one just for that boost.    Augments: Viri has kept her 236 and 240 mods. They have been nerfed a little but the Grade 11 augments and kits are really expensive, and IMHO her old augments do fine for her.

Gearing alts: Send your highest-iRated toon shopping for the others. Vendors like Takanna will give you gear that corresponds to your toon’s level. So send your 306 rated character shopping, grab that high-level gear, and leave it in your Legacy hold for your alts.  I'm gearing my weakest alts, and those that have a lot of content left to do, first. "Weakest" might mean many things to many people. For me, it's the alt that has the most trouble getting through content and/or the class that I'm the least skilled at playing. I've also geared one of Viri's clones who did do Onslaught so she could do the Mek-Sha and Onderon tasks.  Overall, this gear system is no fun. I don’t think it would be quite as bad if there weren’t so many levels, but when you’re going through 19 - 284, 286, 288 and on and on and on - it feels like you’re slowly pulling teeth for every gain.  Still, the point was to show that it could be done without the grouping that the devs seem to be trying to force on us. Et voila.

[honekitteh]

Fic: Countdown - Chapter 8

Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: M Genre: Angst, H/C, Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Humor,  Canon-typical levels of poor decision-making Synopsis: A distress call leads the Jedi Battlemaster to Ziost, but time is running out.  Follows the storyline of The Rise of the Emperor and inserts missing scenes.   Author's Notes: Thank you to @storyknitter​ for giving this chapter a once over.  You have no idea how much that means to me! Warnings: See Chapter 1

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |  Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Crossposted to AO3

Theron Shan was talking to his mother on the holo as I entered the room, I stayed slightly out of view and allowed him to finish.

“Understood.  Thank you.”  He shut off the holo and gripped the edge of the console, looking down. “Thank you…” he murmured.

“What was that about?” I asked cautiously, hoping to not have an accusation in my voice.

He looked defeated as he responded.  “Master Surro.  She went catatonic for a while—now she’s responsive.  Not in the greatest shape, but they say it’s promising.”

Without really thinking, I found myself responding, “She knew the risks going in, Theron.  You have to remember that.”

“It’s one thing to know it’s true in your head…”

I nodded in understanding and glanced down as the memories of everything I’d done while under the Emperor’s influence years ago flooded to the surface, the feeling of the dark side and reveling in it and its power.  Every so often, these feelings would wash over me like it was yesterday, just yesterday when I stopped and snapped to reality before I saw Kira strapped to that torture device.  The nightmares still haunted, lurking behind my conscious thoughts.  Up until the death of Ziost ran over me like a rampaging bantha, the memory had faded, replaced by more pleasant memories.  But the nightmares remained… infrequent, but never truly gone.  

For a brief moment I remembered telling him of my own experiences with the Emperor.  How gentle his hands were as he cradled my face as I spoke to him about it.  How soft his voice was in that moment.  How the breeze blew around us over the Yavin cliff, leading to the jungle below. Leading to where I had needed to go. How I wished to stay in his arms at that moment.  How I wished to be in his arms now, but I could sense his own exhaustion.  He was right… it is one thing to know it’s true in your head.  I didn’t want to point out the fact that she is going to have to live with those nightmares for the rest of her life, no matter what healing they could give her on Tython: he didn’t need more guilt on top of what he already had.  

Another burden I will bear.

He had turned to face me and continued.  “Saresh finally saw reason before things got too bad, got a bunch of our troops out of there—still, we lost so many, nevermind the rest of Ziost.”

I tried not to wince as he mentioned Ziost.  Tried to push down the feeling of complete failure that tried to crush me.  This conversation wasn’t about me.  He had his own pain to deal with.  He didn’t need mine too.

He sighed as he continued, “Add to all that, that I found out that Agent Kovach was actually working for Saresh this whole time.”

I looked down and took a deep breath. “I know.  I overheard him talking to Saresh back on Ziost.”

Theron growled, “You did?” I involuntarily winced.  “And you…” He stopped, looked at my face and then sighed looking down.  “Makes sense I guess.  It… It wasn’t the best time to sort all that out.”

“I didn’t intentionally…”

“I know.  Sorry… this has been rough for all of us, I guess.”

“What’s Kovach’s status now?”

Theron shrugged. “Far as I know, he’s still pretending to work under Lana and reporting to Saresh. Anyway, it’s all out of my hands now. Suppose I shouldn’t even be here, technically.”  I tilted my head as he explained. “Saresh and Master Satele weren’t all that excited to find out I had a team of black ops Jedi on call without their knowledge. I’m on administrative leave—indefinitely.”

I frowned. I understood the reasoning, but Theron wasn’t really the sort to be very comfortable sitting on his hands and doing nothing.  “Forget about the SIS.  I could use someone like you at my side.”  As soon as the words left my mouth I almost cursed myself.  Well that isn’t awkward at all.

He chuckled, looking slightly grateful, but instead responded, “I’m sure.”  He paused for a bit and I wasn’t sure if he noticed my slight fidget.  “Growing up, I had an idea of who and what I would be.  In a lot of ways, that didn’t happen, but in the ways that matter…” he looked up at me, offering a small smile.  “What I’m saying is, I belong with the SIS.  I’m not throwing in the towel.”

I nodded, then thought for a moment.  “Why don’t we pay a visit to the station cantina—for old times’ sake?”

Theron picked himself off the console he’d been leaning on and walked towards me.  “I’ll have to take a rain check, but…”  He reached out, cupping my face with warm, calloused hands, and kissed me softly.  I hadn’t realized he wasn’t wearing his gloves, so the touch of his skin on mine startled me before I eased into the sensation of his tongue lightly brushing against mine as our mouths were merged.  I sensed his exhaustion and untreated injuries and understood.  As he pulled back, he smiled at me, and lowered his voice and rested his head on my forehead, “I might be persuaded another time.”

I fought against the small ache I felt, the one that didn’t want him to let go.  How at that one moment I longed to just stay right here, or perhaps just with him, in his arms.  In some sort of odd sort of safety that I didn’t truly expect to feel.  I didn’t really want nor need much more than just this.  But the time was not right, not for either of us.

We parted; his fingers slowly lingering as they brushed my arms as he pulled away.  He gave a weak smile and turned, walking towards the door and then paused to look up at the ceiling.  “I should have reached out to you sooner,” he continued.  “Whatever’s next, whatever insanity comes our way… I won’t make that mistake again.”  He looked back to me.  “May the Force be with you.”

I watched as he left the briefing room on Carrick Station.  Another time I might have taken a glance downward to appreciate the view. However, all my training couldn’t hold back the dampness that began to pool in the corner of my eyes.  His guilt, while I tried to encourage him otherwise, reflected my own.  I turned and braced my hands against the holo console, where his had once been.  And for the first time, since… I honestly cannot remember if it was some point after that first failed attempt against the Emperor or a little more recent than that… but perhaps the first time in quite a long time… I allowed myself to cry.

After a time, I turned to leave the room, ignoring a nagging sense that I wasn’t alone.  I ran into a wall of Theron Shan, standing awkwardly out of the door, who then proceeded to wrap me tightly into a hug.

“I thought you had to go?” I choked out.

“I do, but that Sith was insistent... I get it now.  I’m sorry.”

I wrapped my arms tighter around him, burying my face into his chest, “Don’t…”

He ran his fingers lightly down my back in a continuous motion.  A few times I felt him about to speak, but he didn’t for a time. Something beeped on his wrist and I felt him sigh heavily.  “Raincheck… I promise…” he said and kissed me on the forehead.

I just nodded and let him go.  He offered a weak smile and motioned for me to head out first.  As I did, Lord Scourge was just standing at the outside of the lift, waiting, staring at Theron with an unreadable expression.

“Right,” he paused, staring at the Sith pureblood in his way.

I sighed, “Let him go, Scourge.”

The older man gave a glance to me first, then looked back at Theron.  He slowly stepped aside, but did not lose eye contact with the younger man as he slid past.  Theron gave me a slight wave and a small smile as he punched in his destination in the lift.

“You didn’t need to do that… I am fine…”

“First, Jyana, you are a terrible liar.  Second, you need to take care of yourself.”

I pursed my lips, looking at the elder Sith.

“Third, he needed to look past himself too.”

“Do you feel your point was made?” I raised an eyebrow.

“For now.  We will see.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose.  “Let’s get going.  I have a feeling Master Satele or Saresh have an idea of where I can be useful…”

I could sense a slight bit of distaste from Lord Scourge as I mentioned the Chancellor, but he did not argue and we took the lift and headed back to the Defender.

“I wondered if I’d find you here.”

I looked up from my meditation perch on a bench in front of one of the many waterfalls near the Jedi Temple on Tython.  Grandmaster Satele Shan stood behind me, her hands behind her back, face serene yet kind. Grey specks had multiplied in her brown hair since the last I’d seen her.  “I suppose I have gotten predictable when I’m on Tython,” I responded and looked back towards the waterfall.

“Everyone needs to find peace on their own time.  This seems to be yours.”

I nodded.  Looking up at the waterfall, I sighed softly. “Change is annoyingly difficult.”

“There is some peace in predictable routines.  Some things don’t need to change.”

“True enough.”

She allowed silence to linger for a few minutes.  I closed my eyes to just listen to the water as it flowed into the streams below. It’d been a few months since Ziost ceased to be a living world, and though the nightmares still lingered, they no longer occurred every night.  I took a couple trips back to Rishi, going to Master Orgus’ old house and trying to remember the paths that he had suggested I take.  Help people out, do the little things.  Heal the sick, fix people’s technology so that they don’t get flooded, tiny little things I could do.  I kept my ear to the wire though.  Tried to follow the reports as they came in.  Any hints that another Ziost was in the works.  But there had been silence.

It wasn’t as if Theron had access to that information to forward me right now as it was.  Not that he’d reached out to me either.

“The anger seems to have passed,” the Grandmaster said softly.

“There is little need to dwell on what cannot be changed,” I sighed a bit.

“To which do you refer: The Chancellor or Theron?”

I shrugged.  “Both.”

“You disagree with his punishment.”

“It isn’t my place,” I said shaking my head, “I am more concerned with the blame he places on himself.”

Satele tilted her head curiously but remained silent.

“If I could take his burden from him, I would.  But it will make him stronger.  A better man, I think.”

“You care for him,” she responded softly.

I took a deep breath. “I know what he’s going through,” I deflected, “I bear similar scars I feel.”

She studied me in silence for a moment.  “Some scars are necessary.”

“It is our scars that make us.  Our pain, our regrets.  Our joy, our sorrow.  What is, is. What will be, will. We cannot turn back time, and even if we could, would we truly make different decisions?”

Satele shook her head. “No, we wouldn’t.”

She turned to look over at the waterfalls I had been focused on.  I wondered for a moment if she was fishing for something, choosing to stay where she was.  I didn’t allow myself to dwell too much on that and opted to return to what I had come here to do.  Close my eyes, focus on the sound of the rushing water, and let the tranquility of the moment wash over me.

Sometimes, in stillness, in quiet, one can find peace. With all my training, meditating at a temple just made me restless.  The quiet produced a pounding hum that drowned out my own calm, while the white noise provided by a waterfall gave me something to focus my mind on.  Soothe the shaking of my knee that the Masters always had commented on:  A prodigy at combat but she couldn’t stay still with meditation.  Once I had discovered waterfalls on that world, it had become easier.

It was hard to think of Master Satele or Master Orgus as younglings with youngling restlessness. I never felt they would truly understand me now.  But maybe they would.

What I would give to hear his reassuring voice again.

Or at least, just a hug.

“Attachments can be dangerous.”

Though my eyes were closed, I could not entirely control the twitch my right eye made at Master Satele’s quiet words rang through my mind.  I opened my mouth and closed it.  The quick response originally coming to mind would not be helpful, so instead I took a deep breath and opted to say nothing.  I tried to clear my mind to the flow of the water over the rocks, as opposed to the rushing torrent between my ears, threatening to turn my cheeks red. I had no way to be sure what she was talking about, no way to be sure if she meant Master Orgus, who I had been thinking about at the moment of her words, or on Theron.  She didn’t need me to snipe about how she didn’t really have much of a right to lecture me about feelings for her son.  I definitely did not need that either.  I simply needed peace.

“He cares for you,” stated Satele, with a slight push to her tone.

I opened my eyes slowly and gave her a side glance.  Her eyes were closed, as if she was attempting to focus on the waterfall as well, or some other item that gave her peace.  I took another breath in and then out, slowly, trying to relax my own heart.

“Jyana,” she spoke firmly.

“I came here to find some peace and some focus,” I sighed heavily, “Not to hear a lecture about the Jedi Code or some concerns about ‘Attachments.’”

She sighed a bit.  “No lecture.  Just concern.”

Emptying myself of emotion never worked for me.  My eyebrow twitched in slight irritation.  I tried to soothe my emotions so they didn’t radiate out my sleeve as others did.  But I didn’t like the concept of denying my feelings or emotions either.  I felt if I denied how I felt — however it was that I did — that would be the easiest thing the Emperor could latch on and pull on me. It was just as much of a slippery slope as embracing them or letting them fuel me could be.

But while I could express my slightly controversial thoughts on emotions to myself, I wasn’t really sure how to articulate them properly out loud.  As well as I probably was overthinking the implications that I would be putting upon the Grandmaster herself.  She had a son.  She had some feelings for Theron’s father to at least get to that point.  She’d also had decades of practice of cutting herself out and shielding her own feelings from showing.  Whether she took time to herself to let herself feel whatever it was that she did in privacy or not, I had no way of knowing.

But what I could tell was pretty evident:  She was concerned.   For her own son.

Master Satele frowned slightly, but did not speak.

“How is Master Surro’s recovery?” I asked softly after a few minutes of silence.

“Slow, but there has been progress.  Have you tried to speak with her?”

“I offered, but I remind her too much of her failure.”

The Grandmaster nodded. “In time.”

“She knows how to reach me should her decision change.”

She nodded in response as well and looked back to me.  Whatever it was she had considered saying, she didn’t end up speaking aloud.  It was difficult to read what was going on in her thoughts through the Force, but that was perhaps by design.  She just gave me a curt nod and then walked back to the Jedi Temple.

I looked back towards the waterfall, closing my eyes again.  Trying to focus on the whirlwind of the water instead of the whirlwind of dust upon the Ziost surface in my mind.  Trying to focus on the peace and calm around me as opposed to the frantically growing louder beeping at my side.

Beeping at my side...

I blinked and looked down at the beeping and blinking holocomm.  Tilting my head at it as I looked at the sender, I opened it.

“Hey,” Theron Shan appeared, scratching the back of his neck.

My heart skipped a beat. “Theron?”

He offered a small smile, still scratching the back of his neck and giving a glance to the side before looking at me directly through the holo. “About that rain check?”