#theron shan appreciation week

[keldae]

On a small college campus, it didn't take long for rumours to start flying. Naturally, Jonas was the instigator of such things – a little word to Mako that his roommate was seeing a pretty girl, and it became campus news.

Somehow, Xaja didn't notice this. 

If she'd been aware of the rumours starting to swirl around her dorm, perhaps she would have been a little less eager to go visit her cute neighbour across the hall. But in her moment of panic, her dismayed screech stifled as her laptop bluescreened, her mind went fairly blank.

“Shit!” Kira exclaimed as she eyed her roommate's computer and the Blue Screen Of Death. “Weren't you in the middle of a paper, too?���

“Yes,” Xaja all but wailed. “And it's the one for Doctor Shan. Fuck me, I need this thing functioning!”

Kira had a thought of someone else who'd probably appreciate that particular invitation more, but kept it to herself. Xaja wouldn't appreciate the teasing about their cute neighbour while in such a moment of panic. “‘Kay, we have a couple neighbours across the hall who are in computer science. Hopefully one of them is home.”

“God, I hope so,” Xaja groaned, unplugging her malfunctioning laptop and getting to her feet. She hurried out of her and Kira's room, knocking frantically on Theron and Jonas’ door. Please, one of you be home… and please, neither of you with ‘company’... She had no interest in interrupting Jonas if he was in the middle of ‘entertaining’ a girl, and the mere idea of Theron being with someone else made a spark of jealousy bloom in her chest.

The door cracked open, and Theron himself poked his head out, confusion in his amber eyes. A second later, he smiled. “Hey there. What's up?”

“Oh, thank God you're here!” Xaja quickly said. “Help!”

Theron's brow creased in a frown. “What's up–?” Xaja turned her bluescreened computer to face him, and his eyes widened. “Oooh shit. Okay, yeah, I can probably fix this. Gimme.” He took the laptop out of Xaja's hands and retreated into the room, holding the door open for her to follow him inside. “Take a seat, this might take a while. Sorry about the mess.”

“I can excuse almost any mess,” Xaja said, relief making her knees weak as she took a seat on the bed Theron pointed to. “I've got two younger brothers, and you're saving my sanity along with my computer.”

Theron shot her a grin. “Okay, yeah, you get it then. Hang tight.” He set the laptop down on his desk and quickly took a seat in front of it, pushing his own computer out of the way. “What were you doing when it died?”

“Working on a paper for the guest lecturer Professor Din brought in this week, and listening to music in the background,” Xaja answered, anxiously watching as Theron forced her computer to a hard restart. “Nothing too strenuous.” She looked up as the door to the shared bathroom opened and Jonas stepped out, yawning. “Hey,” she said in greeting.

Jonas paused, looking back and forth between Xaja and Theron. “Am I interrupting anything?” he asked, a slow grin on his face. “I can go…”

“Nothing like that,” Theron growled out, although Xaja noted his ears were starting to turn red. “I'm tech support today.” He pressed a key, booting into what Xaja thought was the BIOS of her laptop. “Okay, baby, what's going on with you…” he murmured.

“Tech support?” Jonas asked, tilting his head as he sat down on his bed.

“Blue Screen Of Death,” Xaja answered. “And I have a paper due tomorrow for Doctor Shan!” She didn't notice Theron do a slight double-take at the mention of the guest lecturer.

Jonas winced in sympathy. “Worst timing! Isn't she that guest speaker Professor Din brought in this week?”

“The very same,” Xaja confirmed. “And she's rewarding a bursary for the best paper, and I could really use that bursary…”

“No pressure,” Theron absently said, still fussing with the BIOS of Xaja's laptop. “I'll get your computer back up and cooperating. Don't you worry.”

“Pretty sure he'll put in a good word for you with Doctor Shan too,” Jonas added with a grin. “If he ever accepts that invitation of hers to go for lunch.”

Xaja paused, frowning. “Why would Doctor Shan be inviting you for lunch, Theron?”

Theron looked up from the laptop to scowl at Jonas (who just grinned cheerfully back), then sighed. “She, uh… she's my bio-mom.”

Xaja felt her eyes widen comically. “Doctor Shan is your mom?”

“What, you never connected ‘Theron Shan’ with ‘Doctor Satele Shan’?” Jonas asked with a smirk. 

“In all fairness, ‘Shan’ is a super common name,” Theron pointed out. “And I don't think I look a ton like her.”

“Hmmm.” Xaja looked at Theron (or rather, at the back of his head and shoulders), putting the mental image of his face beside the memory of Doctor Shan's. “She mentioned she had a son attending here, but she didn't say it was you…”

“Our relationship is… complicated,” Theron admitted. “She didn't come back in the picture until I was in high school – my grandfather raised me. She was too busy with all her international work to do more than send birthday and Christmas gifts for most of my childhood.”

“... I feel like I just broached a sensitive subject,” Xaja slowly said. “Sorry – I didn't realize it was a touchy subject.”

Theron shrugged. “You didn't know. Don't get me started on my bio-dad – he didn't know I existed until last year.”

“That was a whole thing,” Jonas agreed. “Nice guy, your dad, but he low-key intimidates me. So does your mom, come to think of it. How did you not inherit ‘mildly intimidating’ from either of your parents?”

Theron flipped Jonas off without looking at him. “I swear I'll sign you up for some obscure fetish email list again.”

“Rude.” Jonas stood up, dramatically throwing a hand over his brow. “I can tell when I'm not wanted.”

“Unless you're helping fix this bluescreen,” Theron growled out, “kindly fuck off with your helpful commentary?”

“Fine, then I will. Maybe I'll go out for lunch with your mom instead.” Jonas pulled his shoes on and started heading for the door. “Since her only son doesn't seem interested in seeing her…”

“You are not going out for lunch with my mother!” Theron snapped. “Can't you go find a freshie to hit on or something?”

“You spoil all my fun,” Jonas complained. “Xaja, tell him he's a killjoy!”

“Don't you go dragging me into this!” Xaja yelped, looking back and forth between Jonas (who looked entirely too pleased with this situation) and Theron (who had turned to give Jonas a murderous glare). 

“Come on,” Jonas cajoled. “Doctor Shan's hot, isn't she?”

“Theron's being nice enough to fix my computer,” Xaja retorted. “Of course I'm going to side with him – no hitting on his mom! Besides, Doctor Shan isn't my type.”

Theron twisted around in his chair to give Xaja a grin, one that made her heart race a little bit. “Knew I liked you for a reason,” he said, winking at her before turning back to the laptop.

Jonas dramatically sighed and sauntered toward the door. “You two are made for each other. I'm gonna go find something to do – have fun!”

Not wanting to admit how her heart sped up even more at Jonas’ comment about her and Theron being made for each other, Xaja watched as the other student left, then looked back at Theron. “If you decide to strangle him, I can help hide the body. I watch enough true crime shows...”

A snorted laugh came from the computer. “I'll bring the shovel and tarps, you get the ropes and scout out a good location to dump him. But the first priority is fixing your computer. We can plot murder after.”

Xaja grinned, then got up from Theron's bed, stealing Jonas’ desk chair and dragging it over to sit beside him. “Sorry if I'm interrupting your own studying with this.”

“Don't worry about it,” Theron quickly assured her. “I'd rather be doing you a favour than working on Doctor Trant's coding project.” He shot her a grin. “I still owe you one for letting me sleep on your floor the other week.”

“We're even now,” Xaja laughed. “At least until the next time Jonas kicks you out for the night.”

“Which will hasten his demise,” Theron muttered. “Okay, I'm going to run a couple of processes that'll take some time, but should recalibrate the glitch that gave you the BSOD…”

For a second, Xaja thought she could quite literally kiss Theron for fixing her computer. But wait, that would be entirely too forward of her to do that. He hadn't said anything that made her think he was interested in her in that way – and a handsome, charming, endearingly awkward guy like him? There was no way he was single. No, kissing him was entirely out of the question. So she instead settled for beaming at him. “You're a literal lifesaver, Theron. Thank you!”

The grin she got back sent butterflies rushing through her stomach. “Anytime.”

***

Jonas barely waited for Kira's “Yeah?” after he knocked on her door before letting himself into the room across the hall, inelegantly flopping into what had to be Xaja's desk chair. The taller redhead looked up from her textbook. “Theron gets to be the hero of the day? Or is he gonna make Xaja actually cry for her computer?”

“Theron's got an uncanny touch with making BSODs fix themselves. I'm sure he'll get Xaja's laptop fixed up. Maybe she'll kiss him out of gratitude and he'll figure out she likes him.” Jonas grinned impishly at Kira's snort. “I'm a closet romantic at heart, what can I say?”

“You're also delusional. I've known Xaja long enough to know she's so chicken with making moves on cute guys – and she definitely thinks he's cute.” Kira smirked. “Unless Theron charges for his tech support in kisses or dates, she'll never make a move on him.”

Jonas groaned. “And Theron doesn't want to girlfriend-zone a girl he likes as a friend, even if he's pining for her. Maybe I should threaten to hit on her if he doesn't make a move…”

“I think they'd both kill you,” Kira laughed. “I'll keep trying to encourage her to flirt with him. He can't be so oblivious that he misses a pretty girl hitting on him, right?”

“You haven't known Theron long enough if you think that.” Jonas sighed, then dug his phone out of his pocket and texted Thexan. <Can you be a creep for a second?>

Thexan's response came back a minute later. <Whyyyy…?>

<Left Theron and Xaja alone in our room, wanna know if anything's happening.>

<... You're asking me to go listen for sex noises from the bathroom? Are you for real?>

<Come on, I know you're as invested in these two idiots as I am!>

Thexan's response took a few minutes longer. <Invoked ‘older twin’ rights and made Arcann do it. He says ‘fuck you’, and also he heard nothing but Theron trying to explain computer shit to Xaja.>

Jonas sighed in annoyance at his oblivious (or chicken-shit) roommate. <Thanks.> That done, he looked up at Kira and shook his head. “Well, so much for leaving them alone. The twins didn't report anything happening that they heard.”

“You planning on just hanging out in here while waiting for those two to be done?” Kira asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Nope. I'm going to utilize some drastic measures.” Jonas stood back up. “Doctor Shan is still getting meals at the cafeteria with the rest of faculty, right?”

“Yeeeeeessss?” Kira slowly answered, tilting her head.

“Excellent.” Jonas grinned and turned for the door. “Don't tell Theron, but I'm gonna get his mom involved in this.”

“Doctor Shan is Theron's mom?” Kira blinked, then shrugged. “Yeah, okay, I can see it.” She looked over at Jonas as he started opening the door. “You know he's gonna kill you if he finds out, right?”

“What he doesn't know won't hurt me,” Jonas called back, waving over his shoulder and smirking as he left the room. “Toodles!"

“... Did you just say ‘toodles’?” Kira asked incredulously as the door closed behind Jonas, saving him from having to answer her. He chuckled, then started sauntering down the dorm hallway. Doctor Shan was a very diplomatic sort, from what he'd heard and seen of her. Maybe she could help drop Theron some subtle hints.

And if not… well, this would still be entertaining as hell for Jonas, and the rest of the dorm.

[sullustangin]

"The End," the last chapter in The Taste of Ashes.

Rating: M

Pairing: ....past Theron Shan/Smuggler

The last lines:

…

…

…

…

Are we still on good terms?

Three weeks later, Theron sleepily frowned at the message from Eva – the first message since his birthday.  He’d appreciated the distance… for his career.  And for his issues too.

He still wasn’t reinstated.  Maybe… maybe that night wouldn’t have made a difference.  But maybe it did, and he just didn’t know it yet. 

… He’d make it up to her, someday.  But…for now…it was the least he could do for her.

Yeah, of course.

He thought nothing more of it and went to bed.

There was never an answer.

[rikki-roses]

Fluffy February Day 3: Entertain

SWTOR

Pairing: Early Setra Rowan / Theron Shan

Time period: Right before Legacy of the Rakata (AKA, 2 weeks after chapter 4 from my other fluffy fic collection lol)

PG

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Setra was very glad that the organizers of the art show had placed her and her painting in her usual back corner.

While her art was arguably good enough to take one of the premier spots in the foyer, the foyer was always too crowded for her tastes. Plus, her Codes were clear about humility and not boasting about one's work, meaning she technically wasn't supposed to be submitting her art to shows in the first place; being in the not-very-prestigious corner of the third room was a good compromise.

It also didn't help that the almost-too form-fitting lilac cocktail dress that Nadia and the boys insisted she wear was extremely itchy. Setra had made a point of bringing comfortable clothes - the oversized sweatshirt and leggings that she normally lounged in on her ship - to change into as soon as the show closed for the night. She was still peeved that her crew wouldn't let her just wear her usual Jedi robes.

Ultimately, though, she was just glad her piece was done. While it had been a familiar, fond subject of hers - the cherry blossom trees on Alderaan - the pink watercolors she needed for the flowers had proved more technical than she had anticipated; she'd barely finished the piece before the deadline to let it dry and set. She wasn't overly happy with how the piece had come out, but she'd been reassured by the show organizers that it was more than acceptable to be presented.

And now, she wore her Barsen'thor Face, tranquilly entertaining and explaining her piece and techniques to interested guests.

She had just finished with a particularly guest when Setra sensed a familiar and all-too-welcome presence behind her as a red-jacket-clad arm slipped around her waist and squeezed her hip before dropping. Setra felt Theron's stubble brush her neck as he spoke quietly into her ear.

"I know you said you don't like formal wear, but in case nobody has told you tonight, you look fantastic."

Setra, despite her Jedi training, had to fight to hide a blush.

"Thank my crew, this dress was their idea. Unfortunately, this might just be the most uncomfortable thing I've ever worn. I'm changing as soon as we close."

Setra saw the ghost of a smirk play across Theron's lips as he looked her up and down again. "I don't blame you one bit, but I also don't blame them for asking you to wear it."

Setra let the blush creep in.

After a moment, Theron stepped back and adopted a more relaxed smile, briefly squeezing Setra's hand.

Another group of guests came to look at Setra's art piece, and Theron took his cue to wander around the gallery, investigating the other pieces that had been submitted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was nearly midnight before the last of the guests left the gallery. Theron, as basically Setra's +1, had been allowed to stay behind and help her prepare to leave.

Theron dutifully waited in the hallway as Setra changed in the bathrooms, emerging in leggings and an entirely too-big sweatshirt depicting the mascot of some Huttball team, her dress tossed irreverently over her shoulder. Theron's lips twitched upward when he heard her muttering about "burning the bloody thing." He also noticed that she was now barefoot.

"So, where are you staying? Need a ride?"

Setra perked up, giving Theron an appreciative smile. "Annie and Aric's couch tonight so I can have breakfast with them and their children in the morning, then back to the Jedi Embassy after for a Council meeting. Where are you off to after this?"

"Sleep, then SIS headquarters. You know, the usual. Ready to go? Bit of a hike to my car."

This late at night, the speeder ride to the Jorgan residence was clear and traffic-free. Theron decided to walk Setra to the door, pausing so they could say their good-nights.

Neither one wanted to part, finding every excuse to keep talking.

They were (rudely) interrupted by Aric suddenly throwing the door open. He gave Theron a raised eyebrow as he ushered Setra inside, who squeezed Theron's hand as she walked inside.

"Text me when you get home safe?"

Theron did as instructed. He didn't stop texting her, either.

[annantlegacy]

Unseen, a fic for @theronshanweek-official.

Prompt 1: Childhood. Words: 1060, rated G, on Ao3 also.

Theron Shan sat on a low wall circling a civic garden. His feet were flush to the ground, his hands resting on his lap. He took a deep breath and paused for a count of three before exhaling slowly. Here, in the upper levels of Coruscant, the air was clean. Not as clean as the air of the training grounds where he’d spent so much of his life. That time, those places might as well be worlds and lifetimes away.

Focus, Theron, he chastised himself.

He repeated the process–an old, familiar exercise that Master Zho had taught him so many years ago–while keeping his eyes open, his senses still on alert. Calm awareness. Alertness without a nagging urge to act on something, anything. It wasn’t quite meditation–more, a meditative observance of the world going about its business around him. Theron might not be in a remote and serene land but the Force flowed around him just the same in a bustling city setting as any idyllic scene. 

He catalogued his sensory input, not letting himself focus on any one thing for too long. Like a busy insect flitting amongst flowers in a garden, Master Zho had once said.

Permacrete walk circling the garden perimeter is a brighter ivory than the main throughway. Less traffic?

Heavy, shuffling footfalls to my right…slow and ponderous. Ithorian, maybe…

Floral smells in the air–natural, not perfume. There were flower-beds in the garden, white and yellow blooms.

Another scent, fainter. Vaguely savory, spicy. That little street market selling so many different types of foods, busy with the evening meal crowd…

Theron’s stomach chose that moment to rumble and complain. He wasn’t sure when he’d last eaten. The trees cast long shadows over the pristine walkway. When had it gotten so late? He sighed, gazing up at the impossibly ordered flow of traffic above him. Speeders and small craft glinted jewel-like in the fading daylight. There was something about Coruscant sunsets…the rosy-gold light softening the controlled chaos, gilding the planet’s towering structures like precious metals. 

Beautiful. At least, if you were lucky enough to be on one of the higher levels where you could actually see it. And yeah, sure, it was all artificial effects from an elaborate weather-control system that Theron doubted many beings really understood, or even thought much about. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t nice all the same.

Another thing Master Zho taught him: the Force flowed through all, its light ever-present, so that there was beauty to be found everywhere. That the old man could feel that way and say such things after the horrors Theron knew he had seen in the many battles he’d fought was something else. Theron’s stomach tightened in a dull pang that had nothing to do with hunger.

It hurt. Thinking of Master Zho, remembering the peace of the Order. He’d had a place there, for a time. Had a family. 

I had purpose, even if I always knew I wouldn’t be there forever…Now, what? 

Foot traffic on the walk had picked up. Second shift workers, beings headed to the mind-boggling array of cantinas and eateries, people headed home–and none of them paid him any mind. Theron didn’t know if it was years of Jedi training, something about his face and being, or a bit of both. He could be an invisible man or the center of a city square’s attention if needed. Getting through, getting by after losing the only home he’d known had taught him this. Had kept him fed, gotten him shelter.

He wasn’t good enough to stay with the Jedi Order. That whole connection with the Force thing was a bit of a sticking point. But he had skills from that time. He could win just about any fair fight, and come out the better from some not-so-fair ones.. He knew how to shrug off minor wounds using the meditative techniques his master had taught him. He was a survivor. Thing is, surviving wasn’t enough.

As a theoretical Jedi–because theory was all it had ever been–Theron would have served the Force and countless beings across the galaxy. As a…whatever he was now, survivor vagabond savant, there was nothing more. Theron sighed.

There were options. Police or bodyguard posts. Contract work. Not that any of those particularly interested him. Theron glanced up as a large party of well-dressed humans crowded the sidewalk, passing right by him, not one of them seeming to notice his presence. At eye level with the handbag of one of the women, Theron realized: he could easily slip a hand in, or swipe a blade along the bag handles, grab the loot, and sprint away through the garden, unseen. Or conversely, he could drop in a listening device, a tracker, even a device to be remote-detonated.

Who even thinks up stuff like that? Come on, Theron…

Sitting there, unseen, anonymous in clothing nice enough to not catch someone’s eye, but not so nice he looked out-of-league high cred, something occurred to him. Something that made him chuckle aloud where he sat brooding. 

Master Zho had taught him much about being unseen. About diffusing situations without being detected so that violence was never even needed. About economy of action if things did come to violence. Surely, someone needed those kinds of skills to protect the Republic. Espionage, covert intelligence, boots on the streets and eyes on major players, the ability to be anonymous or obvious at will.

The perfect makings of a spy.

Theron laughed again, but this time, he didn’t admonish himself mentally or shove away the thought. After all, if he was going to be untethered from the home he’d known, unseen, he might as well make something of it. Theron stood, taking another series of steadying breaths, grounding him in the moment. 

The next step was clear to him. He just had to find someone who’d listen. He glanced once more at the sky, now deep vermillion and copper. 

Yep, still beautiful, he thought to himself. His stomach growled again, more urgently than before. And still hungry. At least I have the start of a start of a plan.

Theron walked back towards the street market, thinking about the noodle dish that had looked particularly good, sliding through the crowd with ease–agile, graceful, unimpeded by the traffic.

Sometimes it really was good to be unseen.

[the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond]

Quick sketch of Theron Shan kiddo for the Theron appreciation week! ~

[lonewolfel]

Theron Appreciation Week: Day 6

Prompt: AU(Imperial Agent Theron)

teen(brainwashing, hallucinations, slavery, child abuse/child torture, death)

Characters: Theron, Kaliyo, Watcher X

@theronshanweek-official

Cipher 9 stormed onto his ship with little regard for his companions. He could hear Watcher X in the back of his head scheming and planning, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He passed Kaliyo in the corridor.

“How was Dromund Kaas?” Kaliyo asked with boredom in her voice. Cipher payed no mind to her. He stormed passed her and heard her say. “That well huh.”

Cipher entered the refresher and locked the door behind him. He removed his mask and stared at his face for the first time in a long time. Since working with the SIS, Cipher had been scared that they will realize who he is and who he is related to. There were dark bags under his green eyes. His skin was paler than usual and his brown hair was sticking to his forehead due to sweat. Over all he looked sickly in a way he hasn’t really been since he got kicked from the Jedi Order. 

All Cipher could think was that no matter what you do, follow or disobey orders, the Empire will make you suffer. He remembered what it was like as a freshly captured slave. Cipher had thought that he had known pain having been trained as a Force blind Jedi, but he had been wrong. His stupidly stubborn and defiant 13 year old self hadn’t been prepared for the evilness and torture of the Sith. It felt like his master was taking him apart and putting him back together over and over again. The worst part was the cold almost gleeful sheen in her eyes as she “educated” him.

Was this what the Empire was really about?

After all Cipher had been ordered to allow the death of millions of Imperial, civilian, lives in the vain hope that the Sith will arrive to defeat Darth Jadus. Buy them time. That was what he had been told. True he didn’t follow orders, but he got the mission done with minimal casualties. That should have been enough to make the Empire happy, but it wasn’t. Now Cipher 9 was stripped of his free will and brainwashed to follow whoever had the code word no matter their intensions. All they were was bantha fodder for an Emperor who couldn’t care less about his subject. 

In the mirror Watcher X appeared behind Cipher 9. He didn’t turn around not wanting to deal with the illusion, hallucination, whatever the dead man was.

“You aren’t really an Imperial though.” Watcher X said. Theron’s grip on the sink tightened. He hadn’t even realized that he had been holding it. “I know who you really are. A slave beaten into submission only to turn against his master to free himself. A broken failure from the Jedi that not even his own mother wanted. How did you think this would end. You were never free, not really.” 

With a cry Cipher 9 punched the mirror. The broken shards couldn’t pierce his thick gloves though. Causing them to harmlessly fall into the sink. His chest heaved with broken breaths trying to stop himself from crying. He had thought that the tears had been beaten out of him. No doubt his crew would be concerned, but he didn’t care.

Watcher X was right. He would never be an Imperial no matter how hard he tried. Though he wasn’t a citizen of the Republic anymore. His accent vanished long ago. His memories of the Republic are distant and fuzzy little more than good dreams that a slave boy clung to in the face of beatings and pain. If the Republic knew who he was he would be executed as a traitor as soon as they got their hands on him. If the Empire knew he would be little more than blackmail to the Jedi Grand Master. 

Cipher finally allowed himself to look into the shattered mirror. His image was distorted by the cracks and missing pieces. It filled him with relief. The Republic stripped him of his dreams and family. The Empire stripped him of his identity and free will. He will get back his free will. Even if it meant taking down Imperial Intelligence and the SIS. After all the SIS is the one using it. Sure the brainwashing had been placed by the Empire, but it was dormant. 

Cipher 9 couldn’t care less about the Empire or Republic. They could both burn for all he cared. They are both corrupt governments that cared little about the people under them. Though those are bold words from a man that won’t leave the Empire. He is after all a broken slave, and slaves are ruled through fear.

“My name is Theron Shan son of the Jedi Grand Master Satele Shan, code names Cipher 9 and Legate.” Cipher said brokenly. Finally he allowed himself to cry. For the boy who wanted to be like his mother. For the teen that wanted his freedom. For the man that wanted to save as many lives as he could. And for the innocent people slaughtered in a pointless war over ideology. 

[cinlat]

Blood in the Breeze: Ch 12 (Interlude)

Parts one and two of this series linked.

Read every chapter on FFN or Ao3.

Summary: Everyone stops to take a breath while a storm rages on the horizon.

Chapter Word Count: 8,232 Chapter Rating: M Characters in Chapter: Zolah Holran, Vector Hyllus, Malavai Quinn, Theron Shan, Fynta Wolfe, Aric Jorgan, Lana Beniko, Darth Kozen, Kaeto Vaa, Notiac Carlo, Elara Dorne

Author’s Note: Due to the nature of this chapter, I’m going to have a little fun with the sections. Whole chapter under the cut. Better formatting on Ao3.

Odessen Alliance Base On Base Cantina

Zolah watched the door, resisting the urge to check her chrono again. Fynta was late. While the woman usually had a reason for her tardiness, Zolah's skin tingled in anticipation of moving this meeting along so that she could get to the next one. The round of drinks and din of jukebox music provided a poor distraction from the work left to be done.

Theron slumped over the table on the opposite side of Vector, a half empty beer bottle twirling between his fingers. They'd spent two hours with Theron upon his return, and half of that had been washing the grime of weeks without a 'fresher off him. Afterward, Vector directed the man to the kitchen with the insistence of food and caf being the next priority. Of course, he'd suggested a protein supplement drink first, then disregarded it when the former SIS agent pulled a face.

Watching Theron out of the corner of her eye, Zolah saw the signs of a stim crash on the horizon. He wouldn't last beyond the next two hours. She needed to get the stubborn man into bed and purge his system of the drugs that he'd likely overdone. Theron's knee bounced with more energy than normal, even with Vector's steadying hand on it. Zolah marked the sweat dappling Theron's hairline and recalculated; he'd be unconscious in a little more than an hour.

"Shan." Quinn contemplated the name, one hand rubbing at his chin while his whiskey sat untouched. "That name sounds familiar."

"It's not uncommon," Theron remarked. For once, the man wasn't glued to his datapad. Zolah wondered if his inner agent, the part of him that liked an organized, tidy plan, felt the same draw to the Imperial major that she and Vector had. Of course, it would likely be overridden by the larger part of Theron which had more in common with Fynta's brashness than anything resembling actual battle tactics.

Theron lifted his beer, angling the bottle at Quinn. "It's not much of a secret anymore. My mother is Satele Shan, former leader of the Jedi Order." Zolah noted the forced ease with which Theron spoke of the woman who kept him at arm's length. He'd accepted Satele's choice, but Zolah knew that it still stung.

An interesting tick started in Quinn's jaw, something not unlike a flash of outrage flitting through his eyes, then it was gone. Theron didn't see the man's reaction, as Fynta had chosen that moment to steal his beer and slide into the chair next to him. "Sorry I'm late, what did I miss?"

"We were just—" Theron snatched the bottle from Fynta's lips and wiped the mouthpiece off with his shirt. "Getting to know our newest council member."

"Perfect." Fynta's attention turned to the man in question, and Zolah saw the slightest stiffening in Malavai's posture. The music changed to a somber song by an artist from Wild Space. It was received with a chorus of hisses until someone switched the station. Fynta ignored her surroundings and focused on Quinn. "Major, you seem like the sort of man who appreciates getting right to the point. So, let's do that. What happened while you were on Kozen's crew?"

Quinn's chest expanded in a controlled inhale, his explanation beginning on the release of breath. "To explain that, I must inquire whether or not you have read my file. It's a long story, and I'd rather not rehash the parts you already know."

Fynta nodded, her expression serious for once. Looking at the woman under the dim lighting of the cantina, Zolah almost saw the fabled commander that so many looked to for reassurance. There was no trace of the insolent woman who vexed those responsible for keeping her alive. Fynta was focused, intent on Quinn's words with an open acceptance that most soldiers no doubt found easy to believe. Major Quinn didn't appear to be the exception. For all his intelligence, he was a military man.

"You ran into some trouble with an incompetent superior about fifteen years ago, and he buried your career. You sat on Balmorra for a while, terrible planet, that's where we picked up Vik." Zolah heard the catch in the woman's voice, but didn't think anyone else noticed. "After that, there was a lot of redacted. You want to fill in some of those for me?"

Quinn tipped his head, seemingly pleased by the summarization of his early life in the Imperial military. "I came into the service of a Sith called Baras. He was a spymaster, skilled in his trade. At the time, I thought he was the only one keeping my career afloat, that I owed him for the transfer to Balmorra instead of a dishonorable discharge."

When Quinn paused to take a breath, Fynta held up a hand. "Let me guess the rest. This Baras chakaar planted you on Kozen's crew, had you become one of his little spyders, then set you on the ill-advised path of betrayal."

Lines appeared in Quinn's brow. "That's—very astute."

"Oldest story in the galaxy," Fynta remarked, waving Quinn's comment away. Zolah made a mental note to warn the major that, despite appearances, Fynta had once been an accomplished spy herself. The woman continued her train of thought, unhindered by Zolah's continuous additions to the lists in her mind. "I've worked with Kozen for two years now. Loyalty is pretty much the only thing that man cares about—well, that and Kaeto. I figured you had to screw up pretty badly to get under his skin."

Quinn's jaw tensed. "I lured him into an ambush and set war droids on him and Pierce. It was, as you pointed out, ill-advised."

Fynta let out a bark of laughter that made both Theron and Malavai jump. Zolah sighed and bid farewell to the composed commander facade and readied herself to receive Fynta in true form. "Damn, that takes some get'se."

"Listen, Quinn." Fynta snatched Theron's beer again, ignoring his growl of irritation, and took another drink. "As far as I'm concerned, what happened back then is in the past. Your service record is clean. Acina is an ally for the moment, she sent you here for a reason, and if it was to spy, well…" Fynta waved around the table. "You're in good company."

"Now, I can't promise that Kozen won't crush your windpipe if you look at him wrong, but I can tell you that Kaeto holds his leash. Make nice with her, and at least he won't kill you. As for Pierce, I'll keep him in line."

Malavai cleared his throat. "That may prove difficult." Fynta rolled her hand for him to continue while pulling the beer out of Theron's reach when he grabbed for it. The man folded his arms with a surly huff. Malavai spared them a glance, but not even the poorly lit room could hide the blush creeping up from his collar. "I disapproved of Darth Kozen's relationship with the Master Vaa, verbally and on numerous occasions. It is the reason I left his service."

Fynta's brows lifted, and even Zolah was surprised that Quinn had managed to remain on Kozen's crew after the ambush. "Kozen let you stay?"

Quinn's jaw flexed like a bantha chewing cud before he answered. "My presence was instrumental to Darth Kozen's plan to remove Baras from power, nothing more. Once our task was complete and he took up with Master Vaa...it was mutually decided that my role as his medical officer and strategist had come to an end. We have not crossed paths since."

Tapping the bottle against her chin, Fynta hummed. "That complicates things, but I still say that Kaeto is your way back into Kozen's good graces. She's a smart woman, and she'll understand. Talk to her, that's an order."

Zolah watched Malavai's jaw tighten again, but his head tipped in acceptance. He would do it because he'd been commanded to, but the man disapproved. Zolah couldn't help but calculate that acquiescence into her mental profile of the major. She knew from his past that he would disobey an order that he thought as detrimental to the cause, but where did Malavai Quinn draw the line? After all, he'd gone through with an attack on Kozen. Was it about honor? Would the man debase himself to complete a mission like Zolah had so many times in her career, or was he above that? If nothing else, Major Quinn would be an interesting puzzle to unravel.

"Secondly," Fynta continued, triggering Zolah's subconscious to join the conversation. She could theorize later. "I want you with Theron and Zolah in ops command. A mind like yours is rare and I won't let it go to waste on matters like sewage. By all means, work on streamlining the Alliance in your free time. While I don't understand the need to continue working around the clock, I've lived with your kind for years. Otherwise, I want you on the hunt for Arcann and the strategy committee tasked with figuring out what the hell we're going to do about Vaylin. Now, do you have any questions for me?"

The lines returned to Quinn's forehead. "No, sir."

"Excellent." Fynta stood and handed Theron his empty bottle. She eyed the Imperial for another moment, then nodded. "Tell you what. Finish your drinks, then join us on the Thunderclap in twenty minutes, Quinn. I think you might be able to offer a fresh perspective on whatever osik Kaeto and Kozen are about to dump on me."

"I—" Malavai straightened his collar and stood to see his commanding officer away from the table. "I appreciate your faith in me, Commander. I will not let you down."

A grin brightened Fynta's face, and Quinn clearly had no idea what to do about it. She slapped Theron on the shoulder and nodded to the rest. "See you all in a bit." And like that, the meeting was over, and Malavai had been accepted into the inner circle. Zolah couldn't say that she agreed with Fynta's decision to bring him in on Valkorion's disembodied presence, but she didn't fault the woman's logic. That was the most annoying part.

While Theron turned his beer upside down to scowl at the three drops that plopped onto the table, Quinn let out a startled, half laugh and returned to his seat. "That was interesting."

"I really hate that woman," Theron muttered before looking up with what was probably supposed to be a grin. Zolah flinched, but Malavai maintained his composure. "Fynta doesn't care what happened, really, she just wants to know how to stop people from killing each other under her roof."

Zolah put a hand on the major's arm, light enough to be shrugged off without insult should he not wish to be touched. "The Alliance is a colorful assortment, none of us arrived at this point with clean hands."

"That is…" Malavai took a second to choose his words, then scowled at the still full whiskey glass. "That is refreshing, I admit."

"Now that the commander has invited Malavai to the meeting, should we not warn him of its purpose?" Vector sipped his rum, observing the tone of the conversation as was his way. Zolah noted the downward turn of his lips and wondered if her husband shared the same reservations.

Theron rested his chin in his hands, eyelids heavy. "Probably not a bad idea. The summarized version though, there isn't time for the entire story."

"Not here." Zolah stood, circling the table to pull Theron to his feet before he could drift off. "Vector, be a dear and handle that while I take care of Theron."

Vector followed her lead, one hand resting on Malavai's shoulder while he pleaded with Theron to cooperate with Zolah. Quinn remained seated, seemingly unbothered by Vector's touch. The man had flinched away from anyone else, positioning himself where he was least likely to be jostled. Vector had a way with everyone, but it felt deeper with Quinn. Zolah was curious where it would go.

Theron tugged on his gaudy, red jacket. "Major, I'm sure I'll see you soon. I'm apparently being sent to my room." Zolah hid her smirk at the man's oblivious manner and hooked her arm with his. The spy smiled down at her, a crooked thing made more so by the stim crash. Less than forty-five minutes. She'd need to give him a boost if he was going to make it through the meeting.

Zolah patted Theron's arm. "Come on, meeting now, then off to bed with you."

Odessen Alliance Base En route to The Thunderclap

"So, you remembered nothing?" Fynta waited for the lift doors to open, then stepped inside while Elara questioned her about their time apart. She'd met the woman outside of the cantina so that they could walk to the meeting together. Elara had received a quick tour of the base, but Fynta didn't expect even her impressive memory to hold each twist and turn.

"Kind of," Fynta answered. She'd been dreading this conversation, unwilling to look back at all the wrongs that she'd done while Valkorion poked holes in her memory. Fynta tried to keep her tone casual, but it sounded forced. "I lost everything involving Havoc Squad through some plan to isolate me. Thankfully, I married a stubborn man. Cormac wasn't any better." A wave of regret rose in Fynta's chest, and she swallowed it down. The competing memories still left her light-headed, but they ambushed her less now.

Hoping to turn the topic to something else, Fynta keyed in their destination and turned to her old friend. "Enough about me, I'm sorted." It was a lie. She was far from having her shit together, but no one wanted to hear that their commander was one misstep away from losing it. Fynta pasted on a grin. "Let's talk about you."

"Pardon?" Elara asked. Fynta lifted a brow, adding a head tilt when Elara didn't immediately succumb. She'd forgotten how little that affected the medic. Elara was steadfast, completely unmovable. If she ever mastered the eyebrow, the woman would be damn near invincible.

Elara waved the question away and watched the numbers on the lift tick down. "I'm fine."

"Don't deflect." Fynta knew that trick, and it wouldn't work on her. "You've had a hell of a time on Coruscant, and I want you to unload."

To Fynta's surprise, she discovered that part wasn't a lie. She did want Elara to rant and rave and call her a selfish fool like old times. This icy aloofness was troubling. She'd defected to the Republic for a better life and found herself in the same situation time and time again.

Huffing in annoyance, Elara stared ahead. "It's been hard on everyone, I don't see—"

Fynta's hand rested on Elara's shoulder. The woman tensed, then turned steely eyes towards Fynta. There was so much fear and distrust in them that Fynta's stomach knotted. She smiled. "It's just us. Time to be honest."

Elara's eyes shut with deliberate slowness, and Fynta saw moisture straining at the corners. She let out a shaky breath, then the dam broke. "My life felt out of control," she admitted. "You were gone, then I found out that I was pregnant. The military has always been my life, learning to be something else was difficult. Balic never believed that you were gone, but the rest of us didn't have time for such luxury. I gave up and focused on survival until Havoc went AWOL, then it was desperate hope and the fear of failure." Elara wrinkled the hem of her shirt in curled fingers, rolling up, then back down while she spoke.

Casually, Fynta reached over and hit the emergency brake for the lift. "The choice for Balic to leave was easy in the beginning," Elara continued. If she'd noticed that they'd stopped, she made no mention of it. "But the emotional stress on the children was more than expected. You have no idea what a relief it is to be here. Away from the lies and politics and..." Elara trained off and intentionally squared her shoulders.

"Shab," Fynta breathed. She yanked Elara in an embrace and held her tight. She hoped that it conveyed how sorry she was for putting them through that. "I'll try not to get frozen again."

A sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh found its way out of Elara's body. Her arms encircled Fynta, and after several heartbeats, they both relaxed. "See that you don't. I may not be so accommodating next time."

Fynta released Elara with a chuckle and reactivated the lift. Wiping discreetly at her eyes, Elara cleared her throat. "Now, how are things with Shillet?"

The cringe had been involuntary, but Elara smiled. It felt maternal. Like anything the woman said next had to be true. Fynta doubted she'd ever be able to project that sort of confidence. "She just needs time," Elara said. "Teenagers are hard."

The young Nautolan blamed Fynta for everything, and she wasn't wrong. At least the girl had been brave enough to call Fynta out. For now, they walked on unsteady ground, each testing the waters of whatever lay between them with care. Shillet had accepted the helmet, even looked pleased about it. Fynta hoped it was enough for now.

When the lift door opened, Yuun waited beyond. Elara moved forward to greet the Gand, clasping his clawed hands between hers. As they walked, Yuun clicked and hummed about his time in the Zakuulan underworld while he searched for Fynta. He'd known she was there, but didn't have the assets to retrieve her. There was much lamenting about not knowing how to contact Theron during that time. Fynta tried to praise him for getting anywhere near Zakuul on his own, but he spoke over her with a larger number of reasons why he should have done better, so Fynta let it drop.

By the time the Thunderclap came into view, Elara had been brought up to speed on everything that had happened since Fynta came out of carbonite, the important bits, at least. Thankfully, the woman didn't ask about Vik. Fynta knew that Cormac had explained the situation to her, but Fynta wasn't ready to broach that topic yet.

Jorgan waited at the bottom of the ramp when they arrived. A knot loosened in Fynta's chest when he turned from his conversation with Cormac, Lana, and Notiac with a smile. Her family never gave up, no matter the periodic lapses in faith. They would never know how much Fynta valued their willingness to sacrifice everything for her.

Elara broke away from Fynta and Yuun to walk into Cormac's arms. The stupid grin on his face made everything worthwhile. Fynta had put right every wrong that she could, the rest would come in time. Clapping her hands, Fynta gestured up the ramp. "Time to get this show going. After you."

Fynta took stock of those waiting inside. Kozen and Kaeto stood to one side of the room, inseparable as expected. Zolah had Theron propped against the wall, but it looked like a stiff wind would blow him over. Vector and Quinn sat in the chairs close to the holoterminal, heads together while they spoke in low tones.

While Fynta made her way to greet Felix and Torian, a chill whispered up her spine. "He's an interesting addition." Solish materialized from the shadows, her golden eyes visible behind the cowl of her hood. They flicked towards Quinn, and Fynta heard the mocking laughter in the Cathar's voice. "You know of his treacherous past, I assume."

"We've all made questionable choices for the good of the cause," Fynta answered, following Solish's gaze. The Sith had been less present around the Alliance of late, sneaking into Zakuul with her soul eating monster and her pirate for intel. Zolah assured Fynta that the results were worth whatever collateral damage that the Cathar caused while there.

"A test." Solish clapped her hands in delight. "I look forward to seeing how this goes."

Lana cleared her throat, and Solish slipped away in the time it took for Fynta to locate the source of the sound. "If you would all gather around. It's late, and many of us haven't had a proper night's sleep in weeks."

The room grew quiet as Master Vaa stepped into the middle. She'd changed from her battle armor into the casual black sweats that were supplied in mass by the Alliance. Not even the normally baggy material could hide the muscular prowess that the Togruta normally had on display. If Fynta could rock abs like that, she'd show them off too.

"On our journey back to Odessen, Kozen and I were gifted with a vision." Kaeto's fluid accent silenced lingering conversations in the room. "We were meditating in a room beneath the ship when Valkorion appeared to us. In this vision, Vaylin bested us in combat, but Valkorion stopped her from dealing a death blow."

"Stopped her how," Koth asked before Fynta could. She knew which room the Jedi spoke of, and had been plagued by Valkorion there also.

Kozen answered this time, his voice rumbling deeper than Jorgan's. "He triggered conditioning buried within her mind, so deep, that the young empress didn't know it existed. With a phrase, Valkorion rendered the woman harmless."

"What's more," Kaeto picked up as if she and Kozen were speaking the same thought, a flawless transition. "We believe this to be a memory, more than a possibility. I felt her fear, and could it explain Vaylin's radical actions of late. She's only recently become aware of the threat."

"That must be agonizing for Vaylin," Lana mused. She spared a glance at Zolah, but the Chiss agent looked unmoved to Fynta's eyes. Lana squared her shoulders and looked between the Togruta and Sith Blood. "But, good news for us. Do you remember the phrase he used?"

Kaeto dipped her head. "Kneel before the dragon of Zakuul."

Zolah snorted. "Well, it's got all the flair of an Immortal Emperor."

"Why you?" Jorgan interrupted. He leaned against the bulkhead behind Fynta, the lights from his new eyepatch blinking as they scanned the room. When Fynta glanced back at him, Jorgan gestured at her. "I mean. If the bastard is in her head, how is he communicating with you two?"

"We have a theory," Vector stated, unfolding from his chair. With a tap on his datapad, the holoterminal in the middle lit to provide a web of color. The overhead lights dimmed to compensate. "Allow us to show you the way we see the universe."

Two strands lit, each leading to a central point, though they diverged in several places along the way and wove around one another in others. "Those touched by the Force leave an echo in their wake," Vector explained. "When two of these beings meet, there is a spark, if you will." More lines converged, brightening the room and giving the presentation bulk.

"Kaeto spent a great deal of time in the Emperor's presence many years ago. He touched her mind, leaving a scar that will never heal. As with Darth Kozen, who served Vitiate in his own way." Vector approached the holo and pointed at the central dot. "Both have reached into Fynta's mind in an attempt to restore her memories, creating a link between them. We believe that the energy radiating from the Gravestone allowed Valkorion to convey his message along these avenues."

"Wait." Fynta joined the man, tracing her fingers through the various avenues until she reached the center. "That's me?"

Vector nodded. "The universe converges around your song, time and time again. We cannot explain this."

"Shab," Fynta breathed. Part of her couldn't wait to rub this in Verin's face, while the majority of her mind panicked at the idea of being a fundamental pawn of destiny. She saw a dimmer line, one that flickered and diverged more than the others, but looped back around to the center every time. Upon closer inspection, Fynta noted that it orbited her marker, leaving a barely visible trail. "What's this?"

"Ah, yes." Vector removed the brighter life forces to focus on the one Fynta had singled out. "We can only theorize that this one was triggered by Major Jorgan's presence when Revan released the emperor into the galaxy."

Fynta blinked at the Joiner, then sensed Aric stir from his position against the wall. "I'm not Force sensitive." Fynta turned at the anger in her husband's voice. His single-eyed glare was every bit as effective as it had been before. Aric's focus bounced between Vector and the display, a strange expression deepening his scowl.

"You're Cathar," Lana answered as if it was the simplest explanation. "Most of your species is touched in some way, even if it is unmeasurable. Nothing you'd be conscious of. Your dreams perhaps, or a more precise intuition. It might even be present in your marksmanship."

The range of emotions that crossed Jorgan's face left Fynta breathless. She watched the dots above his eyes pull together, then dart apart as if something had occurred to him. When their gazes found one another, Aric looked away. His glare found the floor, and it didn't return to her.

"Regardless," Theron interjected, pulling everyone's attention back to the topic they'd come to discuss. Fynta pulled her attention to the spy with effort. "We've got a new tactic to consider, and a possible way to exploit it."

The holo flickered as Theron took control of the terminal to display a message from a man whose hair defied gravity. Vector moved back to his chair while Theron took the floor. "There's a party on Zakuul. Vaylin's way of celebrating her return to the throne with the Eternal Fleet. Bet my non-existent pension this is a smokescreen for something else."

Fynta gestured at the image. It was difficult to concentrate on Theron's presentation while she fretted over Aric. "Is this our invite?"

"Yep." Theron popped his lips on the final letter, earning him a concerned glance from more than one person in the room. He was crashing, and judging by the way Zolah edged closer, faster than anticipated. The man never had learned his limits. He'd likely kept himself dosed on stims and ran his implants at max the entire time they were on Iokath.

Theron continued without acknowledging the stares. "Looks like Zakuul has a fledgling rebellion, and we're the guests of honor."

When Fynta caught Zolah's eye, the Chiss gave a discreet nod. Fynta took control of the meeting with the intent of getting everyone to their bunks. "It's not for another two weeks. Table this for the day after tomorrow. If there is nothing else, I'm calling this meeting adjourned. You all look like osik."

Muted laughter rolled around the room. When no one spoke, Fynta clapped her hands. "Alright you guys, get out of here and get some sleep."

The group broke apart into pairs and trios, lingering conversations moving out of earshot as the ship emptied. Fynta waited for everyone to leave, then turned to her husband. "Do you know—"

"No," Aric snapped, flipping off the lights. He sighed and rubbed his fingers into his eyes. "No idea."

Fynta let the topic of Aric's speculated Force sensitivity drop for the moment. She wasn't ready to go home yet, not while they were so tightly wound. Shillet would be waiting, and she didn't need any more reason to distrust Fynta. With the mood Aric was in, the girl would automatically assume Fynta was at fault.

Crossing the room, Fynta rested her hand on Aric's arm. He didn't pull away, so she assumed whatever the problem was hadn't been entirely her doing. "Hey, how about we hit the mats. It's been a few days since I've had a good sparring partner."

Aric's lips curled, then he let out a half-hearted chuckle. "Sure." The Cathar pulled Fynta against his side and kissed the top of her head. "I could use some exercise."

Odessen Alliance Base Official Quarters

Theron winced when Vector slid his jacket down his arms. His skin was on fire, shifting between hot and cold so fast that he couldn't stop shaking. A pulsing headache had developed behind his left eye, and his muscles ached like he'd spent an hour in someone's interrogation room.

"Fuck," Theron groused. Even Vector's gentle fingers felt like live wires when they touched his skin. The Joiner hummed an apology and pulled Theron's shirt the rest of the way over his head. Zolah was less gentle.

After Theron had flopped onto the bed, his Chiss lover set about removing his boots. He'd grumbled that he could handle it alone, but she'd ignored him. Once those were gone, Zolah reached for the snaps on his pants.

"I really can undress myself," Theron complained when Zolah pushed him back. Vector had already disrobed, removing his shirt and pants to lounge against the headboard. Theron hissed at the electric sensation of Vector's bare chest against his skin before the warmth of a comforting touch eased the tension in his back. He sagged against the Joiner, letting the last of his fight evaporate.

"You're crashing," Zolah huffed, tugging Theron's pants down his legs and tossing them onto the pile with the rest of his clothes. "And if I know you, it's from a dangerous amount of stims. You're already running a fever, and those shakes could turn into convulsions at any moment."

Theron turned his head to see if Vector looked as disappointed as Zolah sounded, but the movement tugged painfully at something in his neck. He blew out a long breath, but refused to apologize. Theron had done what needed to be done, and everyone had gotten out alive. He called that a win.

Vector's arms wrapped loosely around Theron, securing their bodies together. He hadn't realized that it was a safety precaution until that moment, but let himself be lulled by the closeness of someone he trusted. Zolah disrobed next. Even with her matter-of-fact way of going about it, Theron wouldn't give up an opportunity to watch the Chiss undress. He fought against the pull of sleep until she climbed onto the bed with them.

"You drugged me," Theron slurred, noting that Vector's touch no longer pained him, and he barely felt the pressure of Zolah's head on his stomach.

"I did," Zolah confirmed, draping one long, thin arm around his chest. He shivered at the temperature difference, but it wasn't unpleasant. She shushed him, her next words sounding distant. "You'll thank me for it in a couple of days."

Odessen Alliance Base Commander's Quarters

"Are we going to talk about this?"

Jorgan looked up from his datapad to where Fynta's reflection was barely visible in the fresher mirror. He glanced towards the lower section of their quarters to see that Shillet was wearing special vibration canceling headphones built for a Nautolan's auditory system. Satisfied that his daughter wouldn't be privy to what sounded like the beginning of an argument, Aric went back to his datapad. "Talk about what?"

Jorgan heard the sound of running water, the unmistakable gargle, then splatter as Fynta ended her pre-bed routine. She appeared in the doorway, brows lined in frustration at his inability to read her mind. "Lana struck a nerve with that Force-talk. I've been waiting all night for you to bring it up."

The tightness that had been relieved by a round of flirty sparring returned to Jorgan's chest. He glanced up, shook his head, then pretended to read again. "It was nothing."

"Bantha shit," Fynta spat, the venom in her voice enough to startle Jorgan into looking up again. She pointed at him from the end of the bed. "We promised not to lie to each other."

Aric winced at the accusation, more so that he couldn't deny it. Blowing out a breath, he set aside the datapad and rubbed a hand over the top of his head. "What do you want me to say, Fynta? I had nightmares while you were gone. It's a normal part of grieving." Or so he'd been told.

Fynta's face softened as she knelt on the end of the bed, one hand resting on Jorgan's shin. "What sort of nightmares?"

Growling, Aric shrugged, then folded his arms for lack of anything better to do with them. "I dreamed about you, alright? About Valkorion killing you, torturing you. It was always cold and most of the time just desolate rock. I couldn't hear your voice or move. I just watched." The sudden lift of Fynta's eyebrows halted Jorgan's jumbled confession. The weight of dread in his stomach doubled. "What?"

"Was it always the same?" Fynta asked, then pulled both legs onto the bed to cross them at the ankle. Jorgan was glad to see that her flexibility had finally returned.

"Mostly," Aric hedged. He didn't want to think about the years of nightmares. The confusion and guilt every morning when he woke to an empty bunk. "The angles weren't always easy to interpret."

Fynta let out a snort of laughter that fell a klick short of anything real. "Shab. Lana was right."

No. Aric thought. Don't say it.

Fynta picked at her nails while she worked through a different version of the realization Jorgan could no longer escape. "I'd forgotten about the asteroid. At least, I think that's what it was. Valkorion would take me there when he wanted to teach me a lesson. Show me why a union of our minds was the only way to save the galaxy. Shab," she repeated, chin resting on her knuckles while her gaze turned to the past. If Aric hadn't been Cathar, he might not have heard the words that followed. "I watched you die so many times."

"It's a coincidence," Jorgan argued, desperate for any excuse to discount Lana and Vector's theory. The idea of being connected to Fynta while she'd been with Valkorion terrified him. That he'd had proof that she was still alive, and he'd ignored it. Coward, a voice growled in the back of Aric's mind. You saw what happened, and you left her to rot for Five. Fucking. Years.

Those words tumbled through Jorgan's mind as memories of long-repressed dreams pushed into the light. Fynta had been exhausted, angry, and searching for them. She'd never stopped fighting even while the Sith walled off her mind. Aric's refusal to act had cost Fynta her memories of Havoc Squad. She'd thought that she was alone. At least she didn't remember how you abandoned her, the voice taunted from the dark recesses of Aric's mind. She never knew that you chose a career over your wife. She does now.

Jorgan didn't realize that he was hyperventilating until Fynta's hands cupped his face. "Riduur—Aric, look at me." Her eyes were dark pools in the dimly lit room. He could see everything in them, the pain of the last six years and the damage done to their relationship. The lost trust that they were still trying to repair. It could have been avoided. You did this.

Wrapping his arms around Fynta, Jorgan pulled his wife against him until she was cradled in his lap. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Fynta pinched Jorgan's chin between her fingers until he met her gaze. "Me being stuck in carbonite is not on you." Aric opened his mouth to explain why she shouldn't have been there so long, but Fynta cut him off. "Losing those years is not on you." She enunciated the last four words, staring at him until he nodded.

"I thought they were just nightmares," Aric said, his voice cracking from the strain of holding back too many emotions. "If I'd known—"

Fynta kissed him. It wasn't the sort that would lead to shed clothing and ragged breathing, but to form a connection, to prove that there was no blame. Jorgan tucked her head beneath his chin and inhaled her scent. For years she'd been reaching for him, and he'd been too damn stubborn to answer. He'd never make that mistake again.

Odessen Alliance Base 'Old Development'

Lana pulled the earpiece out before Solish had finished speaking. She'd warned the Cathar that her time was limited tonight, and the woman had seen fit to call her bluff. Lana didn't bluff. She was exhausted from the riggers of battle, travel, and another catastrophe on the horizon. For once, Lana hadn't argued that there was work to be done when the commander ordered everyone to quarters for the night.

Placing her hand on the keypad, Lana shut her eyes and reached for the calm she knew awaited inside. Notiac was her shelter in the chaos of life, her island of peace. Only, that wasn't what Lana felt on the other side of the door. Nervous energy flitted about like a bird caught in a storm. Lana commanded the door to open and entered with haste.

"What's wrong?" The words were out before the door shut behind Lana.

Notiac stood in the middle of the room, wrapped in her night robe with hair brushed into long, soft curls. She'd set aside her bone mask, greeting Lana with an open smile. "I almost feared that you wouldn't come home tonight."

Shoulders sagging with relief, Lana unbuckled her lightsaber belt and hung it on the back of a chair. "Apologies, I was—"

"Held up, yes, I know." Notiac's head tilted in what reminded Lana of a doting old woman who had tolerated her partner's infuriating habits for so long that they became endearing. She crossed the room, long fingers curling around Lana's arms while the sightless Jedi studied her.

Lana lifted a hand to put it over Notiac's. "I'm fine, promise."

"You were out of reach for so long," Notiac breathed, tugging Lana into a fierce hug that belied the woman's slender frame. "I couldn't be sure at times if I felt you or if it was wishful thinking."

When Notiac pulled back, she placed a gentle kiss on Lana's lips, then set about unwinding her work clothes. "I can do that myself," Lana laughed, though she didn't fight. It was nice to be doted on; to be missed.

"I know," Notiac answered, pulling the tunic over Lana's head. Her fingers returned to knead the muscles in Lana's shoulders, digging into knots that she hadn't realized were there. The Jedi Master leaned against Lana's back to whisper in her ear. "Let me take care of you, tonight. For my sake."

Lana allowed herself to be guided to the bed once she'd been divested of her uniform. Notiac had unending patience when it came to those she cared about, and her massages always lulled Lana into a comfortable sleep. This was Lana's haven, with a Jedi. Not just any Jedi, but the Barsen'thor, a woman who had sat on the Order's council and instructed others on how to broker peace. She'd formed armies, treaties, and fought wars, but it hadn't diminished her compassion. For that, Lana would be ever grateful.

"We might be nearing the end," Lana said without realizing that the thought was on her mind. An end meant...endings. She looked over her shoulder to where Notiac perched on her knees. "Where will you go after?"

"After the war?" When Lana nodded, Notiac hummed in thought while she continued to work on Lana's aching shoulders. "I hadn't considered it. None of us are guaranteed to survive that long. I prefer to live in the now, with the people I love." That was what had drawn Lana to the Jedi in the first place. While she appeared cold and disconnected on the outside, a depth of emotion so deep that even after years Lana hadn't found its end, lay below the facade. It wasn't the chaos of Sith, but a gentleness so profound that Lana had succumbed before she knew there was a threat.

Lana took Notiac's hand from her shoulder and pulled the woman down until they were seated side by side. "Will you rejoin the Order?"

"No." Locks of brown hair swept over the Jedi's shoulder when she shook her head. Inhaling, Notiac angled her face towards the far wall, seeing into some future that Lana was blind to. "No, the Order is done for now. Perhaps I'll remain on Odessen for a while. Just because the war ends, doesn't mean the fighting will. There will be pieces to pick up."

The tightness in Lana's throat loosened, and she tried to let out a subtle sigh of relief. It hadn't been quiet enough. Notiac's head tilted, listening, then a clever smile pulled at her lips. "My dear Lana. Were you afraid that I'd leave you?"

"Well," Lana huffed, still gripping Notiac's fingers. "The Alliance does need you. I'm not sure that I have the time to train someone else to take your responsibilities."

"Of course," Notiac agreed, her tone grave yet mocking.

Lana pushed the woman further up the bed. "Oh, shut up." Notiac chuckled, bracing her back against the headrest so that Lana could rest her head in her lap. The sensation of fingers brushing through Lana's hair sent chills along her arms and legs. She lingered on the edge of sleep, drifting on the melodious humming of her Jedi lover. When she crossed the line into unconsciousness, Lana didn't dream.

Odessen Enclave Residential Quarters

Kaeto sat on the floor in the middle of the room, her naked body shimmering like molten gold in the dim light of her candles. Kozen watched the Jedi, an alien, with vague curiosity. There were still moments where he saw a stranger. The high montrals and lekku that swayed with each breath looked unnatural from this distance. Kozen knew that the moment her lavender eyes found him, he would forget their differences, and they would be one again.

A tremor of emotion began in the back of Kozen's mind, then snuffed out with intentional malice. He tipped his head and reached further, following the thread of fear until it ended at the door in her mind that Kaeto kept closed to him. He'd respected her privacy for years, haunted by her screams when he'd tried to pry apart her defenses long ago. They echoed back to him from another lifetime, one that he planned to leave behind forever.

"Would you join me?" Kaeto's thick accent filled the space between them, heating the blood in Kozen's veins when she brushed against his mind with a lover's caress.

Silently, Kozen tugged his shirt off, then shucked his trousers before joining Kaeto on the floor. Their shared meditations were more intimate than sex, laying everything bare, everything except that corner of her mind. With his spine straight and muscles relaxed, Kozen let the cool air of their room wash over his exposed skin.

"You are troubled," Kozen rumbled barely above a murmur. Kaeto had been more susceptible to the rogue emotions of the alliance as of late. He couldn't be sure that she'd slept since her vision of Valkiorion. Kozen was convinced that she only shared it because they'd been connected at the time. Valkorion had no interest in a disgraced Wrath, but she was the one that had gotten away. She was the first to murder him.

Surprisingly cold fingers wrapped around Kozen's hand, and he sucked a breath in when Kaeto's emotions flooded across the divide to invade his senses. She gave him time to adjust, only speaking once his breathing had steadied. "I haven't been honest with you, but the time has come."

Kozen opened his eyes and turned to find Kaeto looking at him. As expected, his stomach fluttered at the sight of their clarity, and she offered a knowing smile. Kozen ignored his hormones in favor of answers. "You're going to let me in?" There was only one thing she could keep from him.

A single nod answered Kozen's request. Kaeto's face was a mask of resignation. He suppressed the tremor of fear that began in the back of his mind before it could travel to hers. Kozen's fingers tightened around Kaeto's. "I am ready."

The onslaught of images came without warning. The door swung wide, drowning Kozen in rage and bloodlust. He realized that this was Kaeto when she'd been under Vitiate's control, that those screams were from her past, not his. "Wait for it to pass," Kaeto encouraged, her voice echoing off the walls of his mind. "Breathe through it."

Power surged through Kozen. "Let it pass," Kaeto reminded, and he released the rage that enhanced his natural strength. It was not his to hold. Slowly, the red haze of anger began to fade, followed by despair and a depression so deep that Kozen didn't know if he would survive. Kaeto's fingers tightened, and they rode the anguish of past sins together.

"Here." Kaeto's voice had lost all physical properties. She manifested in his mind, as real as the wind but impossible to hold.

The flurry of images slowed, then cleared altogether. After so long with the rapid pace, Kozen felt sluggish viewing the vision in real time. They were in a forest, somewhere he didn't recognize. Kaeto stood by his side, her dual blades at the ready. He...hurt. Kozen looked down to find blood staining his fingers, though he couldn't say where it had come from. Dread rolled in waves off Kaeto, her face set in a stern mask. "I'll see you in the beyond," she called, her voice sounding farther away than her proximity suggested.

"In the beyond," Kozen answered, though he didn't remember thinking it.

The trees cracked, and a dragon broke through them in an explosion of fire. Its yellow eyes turned on Kaeto, and she attacked. The creature bellowed, then opened a great maw to devour them.

Kozen opened his eyes with a gasp. He felt the heat from the flames, the agony of his flesh melting from his bones, and the emptiness of Kaeto's life force being snuffed out. Bending forward, Kozen pressed his hands to the floor and followed them with his forehead. He took comfort in the cool reality of it.

Once his senses had returned, Kozen sat up to look at his lover. "What does it mean?"

"I didn't know for the longest time," Kaeto admitted. "But, after the vision of Valkorion, it must be connected to either him or Vaylin."

"We are to perish in battle, then," Kozen surmised, though the words were rhetorical. Kaeto nodded, her lekku sliding across her skin and catching in the candlelight. Kozen inhaled, then let it out slowly. "There is no more honorable way to go."

Kaeto shifted onto her knees, and Kozen knew what she wanted without needing to ask. He unfolded his legs and leaned back to allow Kaeto to slide one long leg across his thighs. She settled in his lap, fingers linked behind his neck. "Then, we accept our fate?"

Kozen's hands rested on her hips. He didn't smile, that wasn't his way, but he poured those emotions into their bond and felt her relax. "I have no intention of outliving you, Kaeto Vaa. If it is our fate to die, then I can think of no other to have at my side."

"As long as we are in agreement." Kaeto shifted her hips, and Kozen let the last of his doubt evaporate in the heat of her kiss.

[swtorpadawan]

Backup

Author’s Notes: The following story takes place a few weeks after the Rise of the Emperor expansion.

Jonas Balkar’s eyes scanned the south balcony of the Star Cluster Casino on Nar Shaddaa.

From the nearby Strategic Information Service observation post, the senior agent had multiple angles to choose from on his monitor displays, both inside and outside the venue. Years before, Jonas and the Republic SIS – with the assistance of Havoc Squad – had remotely sliced the establishment’s nigh-impregnable security system ever since, giving them a backdoor to the casino’s entire network. Say what you will about the Hutts, but they weren’t stingy on surveillance. They wanted every credit and every gaming chip accounted for, and they were committed to keeping (unsanctioned) violence away from their lucrative hotels and casinos. There were literally hundreds of security holo-recorders and sensors throughout the Star Cluster, and Jonas had access to all of it. What’s more, he could adjust what the Hutts and their goons saw at their end, meaning they wouldn’t get wise to what Jonas was up to.

This had all made the Star Cluster the ideal location for a discreet handoff between their contact – a rather gullible Rodian information broker named Rox, who had a nervous demeanor – and a Nikto working for a Black Sun arms dealer who was (allegedly) supplying off-the-books weaponry for the new Sith Intelligence and their covert operations on the Smuggler’s Moon and other Hutt-controlled worlds. (Why waste time smuggling in ordinance that can be traced back to your government when you can just as easily buy large quantities of untraceable weapons after you arrive, and all at a reasonable price?) The plan was for the Rodian to pass a large bribe to the Nikto for a data-disk on these (alleged) shipments to Imperial safehouses. In one swoop, the SIS would pick up the drop-off points of the network.

But the plan got even better. If things went well, then two days from now, Jonas – through a proxy –would approach the Nikto – the fellow was named Fhentar – with all the information the man had illicitly provided to the Rodian, along with a recording of the hand-off. Using that evidence as leverage, he would turn Fhentar into an SIS informant by threatening to share what the Nikto had done with his boss. The Nikto would then realize that his future lifespan could be measured in minutes if that happened. With Fhentar in Jonas’ pocket, the arms shipments could be disrupted at the Republic’s leisure, forcing the Imps to resort to smuggling their own weapons to the planet. That would further antagonize the Hutt Cartel, causing the Empire even more problems.

Within a few weeks, the Empire’s entire Nar Shaddaa network – so carefully reconstructed by Lana Beniko, the new Minister of Sith Intelligence – would be compromised.

A beautiful plan. All it relied on was this handoff going well over the next few minutes. Just in case, Jonas had an SIS security team – disguised of course – standing by just a few minutes away.

The balcony hadn’t been the obvious choice for the hand-off, but Jonas was convinced it would work. When the action was going hot inside, most of the people tended to ignore the balconies; everyone liked a party, after all. He’d spent weeks surveying the surrounding buildings. A sniper from a nearby high point – should the Exchange or Black Sun or even Sith Intelligence choose to intervene – would find no clear shot of the south balcony. Surveillance – aside from that of the SIS, of course – would be problematic with these acoustics. Rox was wired, but any other audio monitoring would be suppressed.

It worked.

To ensure relative quiet on the balcony, a simple ruse had been arranged to distract any potential witnesses. At the appointed moment, a million-credit jackpot would miraculously (and conveniently) hit on one of the Star Cluster’s Kingpin machines to get the crowd’s attention. An undercover SIS operative would then create a diversion on the floor of casino, feigning drunkenness and staging a fight with the gambler who’d won the jackpot. The altercation would draw the remaining bystanders, all but clearing the balcony of potential witnesses and making it an ideal exchange spot. In Jonas’s experience, nothing drew eyes like a fight on the floor of a casino.  

Still, the SIS agent found himself nervous about this operation for some reason he couldn’t quite place. That’s why he’d called in backup to help him observe everything from his post.  

“You know, of the two of us, I’m supposed to be the one with the anxious reputation.” said the voice from behind him.

Jonas turned, giving Theron Shan a rather haughty smile. One of the top agents in the SIS and (technically) still a division head, Theron handed Jonas a steaming cup of caff, which he accepted with genuine gratitude.

“Well, maybe you’ve been rubbing off on me.” Jonas quipped. “I’ve seen you fret on these things more than a few times. Besides, you were the one who needed to get off Coruscant, remember?”

“I know, I know.” Theron held up a free hand. “Everyone’s still upset with me over that mess I made on Ziost.” He sipped his own cup of caff with a shake of his head as he let out a sigh. For a moment, his normally care-free demeanor slipped away, and Jonas could see the guilt weighing heavily on him.  

“I tell you, Jonas, I honestly don’t blame anyone for being angry with me. I should have called in the cavalry the moment I heard from my contact that the Emperor was back. Instead, I got most of my team killed, and that was before Saresh even called in the invasion out from under me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What a mess.”

Jonas felt an upswell of sympathy for Theron and his troubles. He knew the SIS agent had only ever done what he thought was right, even if that was exactly what got him into trouble most of the time.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up too much.” Jonas patted Theron on the shoulder of his trademark red jacket, giving him a smirk. “At least I still like you.”

Theron wrinkled his nose affectionately at his fellow agent, then rolled his eyes.

“Flatterer.”

“It’s true.” Jonas shrugged, still grinning. “And anyway. I did owe you one from that one incident at the Dealer’s Den back on Coruscant.” Jonas attempted to imitate Theron’s reproachful tone. “‘Jonas’ you said to me, ‘Casino jobs are always tricky. You need to plan to the last detail.’ And hey – you were right.”

“Well, at least this time you actually told me what the operation was. That should make it a little easier.” Theron gave him a scrutinizing look. “So you had a funny feeling about this exchange, and decided to call me in for backup?”

“You are here to add ambiance to an otherwise dreary observation post. Even if it is in an unofficial capacity.” Jonas found himself smirking again. “And hopefully, to start the process of rehabilitating your image with the top brass, even if you aren’t actually here officially.”

Theron nodded in gratitude.

“I appreciate that. I know you didn’t have to do this for me.”

“Don’t mention it. Just help me make sure tonight goes down alright.” Seeing that Rox was in position, Jonas turned back to the bank of monitors, noting the chrono indicator.

It was almost time.

Theron silently gave Jonas a thumb’s up signal as the slice command went through the system. From inside the casino came a blast of celebratory music as the jackpot hit, followed by a series of cheers from the crowd. Most of the handful people still on the balcony started making their way inside. The casino was known to offer a round of complimentary drinks for such rare events. Mere seconds later, shouting could be heard, indicating the scuffle had begun. On one of the peripheral screens, Jonas could see Dionne – a junior agent who showed promise and could play the ‘drunken bruiser’ well – shoving the beleaguered and confused Mon Calamari who’d won the rigged jackpot. The Zabrak’s antics drew even more interest from the casino’s guests than the jackpot had, both inside and out on the balcony. Four or five stragglers made their way inside, eager to watch. Jonas smirked at their reaction as he checked the chrono once again. Perfect timing. Within seconds, Rox, their contact, was one of only three people left still standing on the balcony.

Jonas’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the remaining two individuals; a young human couple who were standing in the far corner, holding each other in an intimate embrace. Jonas watched the man and woman carefully; you couldn’t be too cautious in this business. Both were wearing the revealing attire that had become so popular among socialites on Corellia since the battle there had ended three years before; the ‘Euphoric Corellian’, this look was called. Their arms and shoulders were laid bare, though their hands were gloved. The cut of the tunic was provocative, leaving their flanks bared and showing plenty of skin. This duo wore the outfits well, the woman’s was a deep green while the man wore a royal blue.  

He focused on the woman first; a beautiful brunette with shoulder-length hair, fair skin and green eyes that seemed to match her dress. Jonas would place her in her twenties. The Corellian outfit hugged her impressive feminine curves, but Jonas noted the equally impressive lean, athletic muscle of her arms as well. She wore no jewelry; her only accessory was a green purse she wore over her shoulder, and like her outfit, it matched her eyes perfectly. She was beaming adoringly up at her lover, with a dazzling smile that could have made even a Trandoshan’s heart flutter.    

Damn. Lucky boy. Jonas marveled, turning his attention to her companion.

The man was tall and broad-chested; from what he could see, Jonas would normally assume that he worked out extensively. The scarring, however, across his arms suggested otherwise, telling the tale of injuries suffered over the years; this man – like his companion, only in his twenties by Jonas’s eye – was no doubt a veteran soldier. Probably he’d seen action on Corellia during the war. Based on his attire, maybe he hadn’t been regular Republic military but part of the planetary militia or maybe CorSec. His hair was as raven black as Jonas’s, though the SIS agent suspected the man’s might have been dyed. Regardless, he was a good looking fellow, Jonas couldn’t help but notice. He could easily imagine him on a recruitment poster for the military or for some holo-ad campaign, and his hazel eyes were completely enraptured with the beautiful woman in his arms.  

Huh. Lucky girl. Jonas reflected, chuckling to himself.

His initial anxiety about the couple quickly faded; these two were clearly in love and hardly looked like they could be carrying any concealed weapons. They both clearly enjoyed an active lifestyle. He couldn’t pick up any audio from here – the device Rox was wearing was designed for conversations near him – but they were obviously whispering ‘sweet nothings’ in each other’s ears, holding each other and occasionally leaning in for a teasing kiss. They certainly weren’t paying attention to anyone or anything else but to each other and probably hadn’t even heard the jackpot or the fight from inside. They were plainly just enjoying each other’s company until it was time to withdraw back to their room in the hotel for the evening.

Jonas sighed inwardly, trying to remember how long it had been since he had withdrawn to his room with someone special. Almost on reflex, he glanced over at Theron, who seemed distracted scrutinizing another monitor.

No. Jonas thought to himself. Theron Shan had been fun enough on that late night years ago after a mission when they’d each had far too much to drink, but they’d both agreed afterward that it was better that they remain friends. And honestly, Theron was a good friend, one of the best he had in the galaxy. He shook his head to clear it and then turned back to his own screens.  

Regardless of anything else, that young couple shouldn’t be a problem during a simple handoff.

Confirming once more that Rox was otherwise alone, and naturally that he was looking nervous, Jonas turned to the entry door to the balcony. The time was one minute past the agreed time for the exchange; not enough to call it off just yet. This was always a concern for intelligence agents, but it was the price of working with criminals.

There he is.

The Nikto finally walked in, eyes glancing around the balcony, briefly noting the intimate couple in the corner before dismissing them just as quickly, finally focusing on Rox and approaching the Rodian. A quick holo-scan confirmed that he was unarmed; Jonas was confident the Casino’s security was up to that task of keeping lowlifes like Fhentar from carrying weapons, as they’d had far too many incidents of violence here over the past few years. Fhentar himself was a strange story; supposedly he’d been part of a cult on Taris that had worshipped a fallen Jedi years ago. The SIS file on that situation was still sealed tightly, even from someone of Jonas’s rank. How Fhentar had wound up working for Black Sun after his ‘religion’ had collapsed was anyone’s guess.  

Rox folded his arms, trying to give the Nikto a hard look, but to Balkar, it merely came off as petulant.

“You’re late.” The Rodian said in Huttese.

“And you’re impatient.” Fhentar retorted. “Give me a break. Didn’t you hear the commotion? The casino is going crazy right now.”

Jonas couldn’t deny the validity of the excuse, even if he didn’t trust it. It came with the territory of being a spy.

“Whatever.” Rox shrugged dismissively. “You have the disk?”

“Depends. You got my credits?” the larger Nikto wasn’t giving up any ground. It was the normal underworld posturing, practically clichéd at this point.

“Of course.” The Rodian pulled out the high-denomination credit stick from his belt. Jonas hoped the credits would prove to be money well-spent. The SIS budget was not unlimited.  

The Nikto knew the game, producing a data disk from his jacket.

“So who’re you selling this to, anyway?”

As Rox’s ‘tough’ demeanor – such as it was – started to falter, Jonas could almost smell the Rodian’s nervousness from here.

“Come on. I’m an information broker. You know I can’t talk about that. Not when my clients are paying for discretion, anyway.”

Jonas suddenly noticed some distortion on his monitors. He checked the sensors, but they all seemed to be coming up blank… wait.

There. A series of vibrations against the side of the Star Cluster that weren’t accounted for anywhere else; four distinct series in fact. Rapidly heading down towards the balcony.

Theron Shan noticed it, too. Jonas watched as he urgently plugged into the sensor grid through his cybernetic implants. Jonas hit the ‘standby’ button for his backup team.  

Meanwhile, the conversation was still ongoing.

“Ah, well.” Fhentar shrugged, with a degree of smugness. He tapped the button on his chrono-wristband. “If you’d actually told me now, it would have saved us all some time.”

Jonas was hitting the alert button before the Nikto even finished speaking.

“Team two! Move in! Move in!”

He watched helplessly as the four series of vibrations converged on the balcony. A moment later, he saw the tell-tale shimmer of stealth field generators shutting down as four armed figures in sneak-suits had suddenly surrounded Rox and Fhentar, each one attached at their belt to a rope running up the wall. The SIS agent realized immediately that they had rappelled down the side of the building. The Star Cluster’s sensors should have normally picked up the anomaly well before this. Something had gone wrong.

Many somethings were obviously going wrong.  

“My bosses want to know who’s got their eyes on their business, Rox.” Fhentar chuckled. “So my friends here are gonna take you up to the shuttle pad on the roof. I hope you aren’t afraid of heights.”

Jonas’s communicator beeped as the Rodian started to look around, panicking.

“Chief!” Wynnefred’s voice came through. “The kriffing catering trucks have blocked us off! We have to go around!”  

“Dammit!” Jonas’s hand slammed against the table, checking the layout and realizing he’d been outplayed. “My backup team is more than a minute away!”  

Theron just looked up at the array of screens and smirked.

“Mine’s not.” He reached up and tapped the relay on his earpiece.

Even afterwards, even with the benefit of re-watching the recordings at reduced speed, Jonas could still barely comprehend what took place over the next two seconds.

One second, the Nikto and the Rodian were surrounded by four armed assailants, ready to restrain Rox and take him away the same way they had come, all while the young couple in the corner of the balcony continued to bask in each other’s company, completely oblivious to the abduction taking place behind them.

The next second, there was a veritable explosion of movement. The young couple were gone and Fhentar and all four of his accomplices had been knocked to the ground. As for Rox, the panicked Rodian had fallen to his knees and found himself flanked by a pair of bodyguards… each of them brandishing lightsabers.

Jedi. Jonas marveled to himself.

Other things registered to Jonas. The long dark wig had fallen from the brunette’s head - he now observed her short red hair - and was lying on the floor of the balcony, an obvious consequence of coming out of a Force leap. Her purse had likewise been discarded, and he realized that was likely where they had been hiding their weapons. He noted that the woman’s lightsaber was of the fluorescent green double-bladed variety, while the man brandished a pair of radiant blue sabers.

But these were all secondary observations to Jonas, as he watched all four assailants – apparently oblivious to the fact that they were completely outmatched – attempt to rise to their feet and to press the attack, only to be cut down in a flurry of brutally efficient lightsaber strikes.  

Apparently wiser than his fellows, Fhentar remained prone on the ground. Jonas could hear his lamentations through Rox’s audio device.  

“No! Not Jedi again!” he groaned, raising his hands in the air and plainly giving himself up.

Jonas was right about to turn to Theron in for an explanation when recognition dawned on him.

Wait.

Jonas’s eyes refocused on the man. The shade of his hair and eyes were off, and he was missing that distinctive scar going down his left cheek, but his physical build, the twin blue lightsabers and his red-headed companion…

Jonas’s jaw dropped in realization and he gaped.

“That’s the Hero of Tython!” he whirled on Theron.

Theron Shan was doing absolutely nothing to suppress his amusement.

“Yup. Colored contact lenses, some hair dye, and cosmetics. Plus a wig on Kira – his partner – obviously. No one in their right mind would ever expect to see a Jedi dressed like that.” Theron smiled. “I put a scan-blocker in Kira’s bag. Hutt security trains to look for blasters, knives and explosives, not for lightsabers.”

Jonas finally let out an exhale, realizing only then that he’d been holding his breath.

“I’d heard you’d been working with him.” He offered, turning back to his screens as the gears of his mind started to turn. “Not a perfect night, but its salvageable. Rox is still breathing and we took Fhentar alive. It shouldn’t be too hard to flip him, even without the recordings. Not ideal, but he should at least be able to give up some Imperial drop points.”

He nodded, turning back to Theron with a grateful smile.

“Well. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Theron chuckled. “Like you said, something about this exchange felt off. I might have waited too long to ‘call in the cavalry’ on Ziost, but I wasn’t going to make the same mistake here.”

“After all, everyone needs backup sometimes.”

“That we do. Please make sure to pass on my appreciation.” Jonas smiled back, then turned back to the monitoring station.

“So you had Halcyon and Carsen pose as a couple?”

Theron smirked boyishly, obviously pleased with himself at the deception.

“Clever, huh? I was worried they wouldn’t be able to pull it off, being Jedi and everything. But they were great out there. Hell, they could have fooled me.”

Jonas turned away from his fellow SIS agent, regarding the screens as Wynnefred and his team finally arrived to take Fhentar into custody and to deal with the bodies of the four fallen assailants. Despite the Nikto’s importance going forward, Jonas’s focus again zeroed in on the pair of young Jedi.

Halcyon was cautiously turning Fhentar over to the security team. Clearly, the Jedi Battlemaster wasn’t taking chances. Carsen was standing beside him, positioned protectively over Rox. But their postures were aligned towards each other; Halcyon turned just so his wide stance was open to Carsen, who likewise was turned towards him, her eyes gazing up at him affectionately as he conferred with Jonas’s backup team leader.

Theron Shan was one of the cleverest intelligence operatives Jonas knew, and he was nearly as good an analyst. But sometimes, he couldn’t see the forest from the trees.

For once though, Jonas decided to keep his observations to himself.

Well. At least somebody’s going to bed happy tonight. He suspected, with an envious look back at the couple.

 Author’s Notes: I just take it as a given that Theron and Jonas once had a brief thing.

Fhentar shows up on Taris during the Imperial Agent story, serving the memorable Ki Sazen. Obviously, in my legacy, he survived his encounter with Cipher Nine. Unfortunately for him, his new employers don’t appear to be much better than the old ones. Rox and Balkar’s subordinates are my own creation.

The mention of Havoc Squad’s trip to the Star Cluster Casino for the SIS is obviously a reference to the Trooper’s class mission to Nar Shaddaa.

The Euphoric Corellian armor set is a real thing. It’s probably illegal on some planets.

Rodians get shafted in this game and in the greater Star Wars universe in general. So I feel bad for piling on.

Tagging people who expressed interests - @swtorshipping​ , @swtor-writers-guild​ , @raven-of-domain-kwaad​ , @ask-an-andalite​ , @a-muirehen​ , @taraum​ , @theravenassassin95​ , @sleepswithvillains​ , @blueburds​ , @sunnysayshello​

[movedto-consularmain]

@theronshanweek-official day seven of theron appreciation week: legacy something a little different for the last day of this awesome event

Theron had never given much thought to his legacy.

He remembers being eleven years old and his world falling apart as Master Zho, the only father he had ever known, gently told him he would never be a Jedi. From that day on, Theron could never shake the feeling he would never amount to anything beyond a stain on the great Revan’s bloodline.

Theron didn’t have much of a family to begin with and he lost the one he might have had within the Jedi Order. For a long time, he lived closed off from everyone else. And he was okay with it. It made his work with the SIS a lot easier not to get too attached to anyone or anything.

But then he enlisted the help of Master Minerva, Battlemaster of the Jedi Order and the paragon of everything he wished he was, and Lana Beniko came into his life, guided by the Force to help them in their search for traitors. It seemed that even though he couldn’t feel the Force as they did, it still had plans for him. Together, they would go on to topple empires and destroy ancient evils and save the galaxy countless times over.

He finally found a home in them, his sisters, and even when he had to risk losing them forever to save their lives and the trillions of lives depending on them, Minerva and Lana never gave up on him. They never abandoned him.

Theron would inescapably forever be tied to the legacy of Revan and Bastila Shan, but his name would also stand on its own as the SIS agent who built the Alliance that would last even after he was gone. And alongside it would be the names of the Jedi who left the Order to walk her own path and the Sith who stood by them through it all.

The names Minerva, Theron, and Lana would become synonymous; always together and never apart. He wouldn't have it any other way.

[ulavii]

Theron Shan Week : Day 2 (Relationships)

Prompt : Relationships Warnings : No specific warnings, maybe self-doubt ? Also, SWTOR spoilers (Kotet, Kotfe, the Umbara/traitor storyline) Characters : Theron Shan, Lord Astaroth - SW (OC, only mentionned) Word count : 632

Read on Ao3 here - Full work below

@theronshanweek-official

If there was something that Theron didn't have a great understanding of, it was relationships. Interacting with people, understanding them, making friends... since he was a kid, Theron had always been isolated. On his own. It never really bothered him, but the fact was, in the end, he wasn't just good at people in general. He had made only a few friends, over the years. Being a SIS spy wasn't the best position for finding them. Inside the Service, it was colleagues, some he appreciated, but he wasn't really considering them his friends. Maybe Jonas was the one who was the closest to the definition. No, the friends he made, it was outside the SIS. Outside the Republic, even. Like Teff'ith. Her, she was his friend, he was sure of it. The only problem was, maybe she wasn't considering him a friend at all. Not that he knew for sure. He hadn't seen her for a long time. And now, in the Alliance... well, he was interacting with a lot of people. On a regular basis. The same people, every day. It was hard, at first. But then, there was Astaroth, his Commander and, also, his lover.

Theron sat on a rock facing Odessen's wilderness. The place was calm. He liked to think here. It was the middle of the night, but he couldn't sleep. Astaroth had felt Theron waking up from the bed, and the spy had to came up with some lame excuse he was sure his boyfriend didn't believe. But he needed his time alone, and the Commander respected this. He didn't need a reason. It was his first “real” love relationship. The first to last that long. He didn't know how long exactly, because he didn't know from when he was supposed to count. Was it Rishi, during their first kiss ? Or Yavin 4 ? Or was it way later, when they found themselves again on Odessen ? He couldn't say. All he knew was he couldn't help himself but having doubts. It was not about his feelings, however. He loved him, he knew that for sure. But he was scared still. Scared it would stop, one day. That Astaroth would fall out of love with him. Theron didn't want that. He was so happy this way, and he didn't want it to change. But he was convinced he was so bad at that, at relationships, that he would surely make some mistake one day, and that his lover would leave. Like in his nightmares.

“But he welcomed me back,” he wondered. “do I even worth it?”

Those nightmares started when he “betrayed” the Alliance to infiltrate the Order of Zildrog. At the time, he was terrified their relationship would just stop. That he would be thrown out of the Alliance to be left alone, again. But he didn't want to be alone. Not this time. Being surrounded with people he loved wasn't so bad, after all. It was even really great.

“Why do you love me?” he wanted to ask Astaroth. Instead, he whispered it there, with only the wind to ear.

“Am I even good enough? No one ever explained to me how to handle... people. How to do relations with others.” he kept thinking. “I don't even know how to keep friends, so the man I love? What if he finds better than me?

Deep in his heart, he knew it wasn't true. That his awkwardness in love, in relationships in general, was precisely one of the thing that made Astaroth fall in love with him. But Theron just couldn't convince himself.

He sighed and decided to go back to bed. He won't find the answer he was looking. Likewise, he will sleep on it, and maybe, things will look better in the morning.

[rhaniel-legacy]

Theron Shan’s appreciation week > DAY 3 - TRUST

For this prompt, I decided to go with Theron and Lana’s bond. I love this two so much T^T  I have plenty of headcanons for the Order of Zildrog storyline, to make the epilogue less... compact I would say? Theron spent weeks in the infirmary, both in a Kolto tank and on a bed (with artificial coma), recovering from his injuries. Ran has a conversation with him telling she’s ok to have him around, but she’ll need time to be able to be with him. As for Lana, I’ve only finished Nathema’s conspiracy a few weeks ago so I don’t know yet if there’s a scene where she actually exposes her feelings toward the whole ‘undercover mission to save everyone’... so I thought I’ll have to write something about :D

Day 3 >  Trust

Characters > Theron Shan, Lana Beniko, oc:Ran Archer, minor oc: Ell’a

Context: Odessen base few weeks after Nathema’s Conspiracy

@theronshanweek-official​

    Adossé près la porte qui menait aux hangars extérieurs, bras croisés, Theron Shan essayait de retrouver ses marques peu à peu. Cela faisait quoi … pas loin d’un an qu’il n’avait pas remis les pieds ici ? Rien n’avait vraiment changé, du moins matériellement parlant : même si la Flotte Éternelle et le Cénotaphe avaient été détruits, l’Alliance conservait toujours ses escadrons de chasseurs, ses croiseurs, et ses navettes. Et ce fut justement l’arrivée d’une de ces dernières qui montra à Theron à quel point les gens, eux, avaient changé. 

    Il pouvait se vanter de la connaître depuis quelques années déjà, et pourtant, il ne l’avait jamais vue aussi démonstrative en public. A part évidemment, avec lui.

    Theron serrait les mâchoires. Il ne voulait pas s’attarder aussi longtemps sur ce détail, mais c’était plus fort que lui. Elle avait l’air si heureuse de retrouver cette fille. Il n’arrivait pas à savoir ce qu’il ressentait véritablement en les observant.

- Vous êtes un peu rouillé Agent Shan. Pour la discrétion on repassera.

    L’homme se redressa légèrement lorsque Lana Beniko vint s’appuyer contre le mur à ses côtés.

- Bien, merci, et toi ? répondit-il, piqué au vif.  Tu étais toujours aussi acerbe de bon matin, ou est-ce que c’est parce que Koth a fini le caf ?

    Elle croisa les bras à son tour et minauda :

- Non je vous laisse toujours aussi volontiers ce jus de chaussette … 

    Lana explora les environs du regard une brève seconde, avant de se tourner vers Theron :

- Tu devrais vraiment arrêter de les fixer, les soldats commencent à s’interroger sur ton comportement. La moitié a l’air d’imaginer que tu prépares un plan pour l’assassiner, et l’autre pense que tu es jaloux. 

- Et toi ? (Un sourire sarcastique se dessina sur ses lèvres :) Tu en penses quoi ? 

- J’en pense que ça ne sert à rien de te morfondre, et qu’il faut juste lui laisser du temps … et de l’espace.

    Theron lâcha un soupir et leva les yeux au ciel.

- C’est juste que je ne peux pas m’empêcher de penser que le comportement qu’elle a avec cette fille est peut-être un peu … prématuré.

    Lana se redressa et lui posa une main rassurante sur le bras.

- Ell’a est une véritable amie. Elle a fait beaucoup pour elle. Tu n’as pas le droit de juger ça.

- Mais c’est une danseuse de cantina, renchérit-il. Tu imagines le nombre de personnes d’horizons différents qu’elle a pu rencontrer sur Nar Shaddaa ? Comment être sûr qu’elle n’espionne pas pour le compte d’une faction ennemie ? Je veux juste … (Il secoua la tête :) Je veux juste m’assurer qu’elle s’entoure des bonnes personnes.

- Calme toi, rétorqua Lana avec fermeté. Que tu le veuilles ou non, beaucoup de choses ont changé depuis que …

Depuis que tu nous a trahi ? songea Theron.

- … depuis ton absence, poursuivit-elle d’une voix faible.

    Elle laissa échapper un bref soupir et entraîna Theron à l’écart. Un simple coup d'œil en arrière lui suffit à discerner qu’aucune oreille indiscrète ne traînait. Et Ran et Ell’a avaient quitté le hangar.

- Theron, reprit-elle doucement, aie confiance en son jugement. Ell’a est une fille bien, et honnête. Elle a été présente à ses pires moments, et après ton départ elle lui a apporté un soutien que nous avons été incapable de lui donner ...

    Il plissa les yeux.

- … sauf que ce n’est pas à moi de te raconter ça, ajouta Lana en scrutant les alentours.

    Elle regrettait d’en avoir autant dit. Elle voulut s’esquiver et clore ainsi la discussion quand Theron l’attrapa brusquement par le bras. Elle cherchait désespérément à éviter son regard.

- Tu en as trop dit ou pas assez.

    Elle se mordit l'intérieur de la joue en réfléchissant à comment sortir de cette situation.

- Lana.

    Devant son silence, il fit un pas en arrière, comme s’il s’était brûlé.

- Alors on en est là hein … C'est à ton tour de me laisser dans l'ombre.

    A ces mots, l’air devint électrique. La sith sentit soudain la Force s’agiter autour d’elle en réponse à son corps qui bouillonnait de rage :

- Non mais qu’est-ce que tu crois Theron ?! Toute sa vie on lui a inculqué que laisser les autres s’approcher trop près c’était risquer de se retrouver avec un poignard dans le dos !

    Lana fit un pas en avant. Il ne recula pas pour autant et croisa de nouveau les bras.

- Tu crois qu’elle n’avait pas envie de croire que tu n’étais pas réellement en train de la trahir ? Tu crois qu’elle n’avait pas envie de te faire confiance ?!

    Les lèvres de Theron s’étirèrent en un rictus sarcastique :

- Est-ce que c'est toujours de Ran dont tu parles ou c'est de toi ?

    Il perdit aussitôt sa mine satisfaite … La Force s’était subitement calmée autour d’elle. Elle avait pincé les lèvres pour retenir des mots qu’elle savait, allaient dépasser sa pensée. Mais ses yeux la trahirent. 

- Lana … commença t-il.

    C’était presque un murmure. Une supplication.

    Mais un mot, un seul, s’échappa de la bouche de la sith :

- Blast !

    Elle tourna les talons, essuyant ses joues du revers de la main. Il ouvrit la bouche mais aucun son n’en sortit. On n’entendit bientôt plus que les pas de Lana résonner sur le sol … et le cœur de Theron qui semblait prêt à se briser.

————————————————-

Merci de m’avoir lu ♥

[sullustangin]

New Fic!

Ten Birthdays

Rating : T (for now)

Summary: The last time Theron Shan saw Eva Corolastor, it was his birthday. Five birthdays passed for him with defeat, death, occupation, and loss. She missed her next five birthdays, life interrupted at 25.

Theron wasn't alone in surviving this...and he wasn't alone when hope came back to the galaxy.

~~

Preview:

“Why do you keep second-guessing my decision?  You know what SIS is to me.”

“The feeling isn’t mutual, if you’re still benched –” she retorted, hotly.

 “-- I’m not going to give it up to be some blaster-toting wastoid with a hard-on for a lady smuggler!”  Theron snapped, a lot louder than he’d intended.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

Eva raised her chin up toward him, stubborn.  “I just want you to know you have options.  The Republic has a tendency to screw over its best and brightest.  You deserve better than how you’re being treated.”  Then her face softened.  “I’m not telling you to quit.  I’m telling you not to forget my offer.”

Theron shut his eyes, because she looked tempting.  There was a part of him that wanted to grab his go bag, swear T3 to silence, and run off with her and her merry crew. When he opened his eyes again, she was still gazing at him, all warmth.  “I appreciate the gesture,” was all he let slip.

The corners of her lips pulled downward, her voice apologetic. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.  I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday.  Take you out.”

Theron gave her a half-smile.  “I’m not in the mood to celebrate in any way tonight.  It’s not you, it’s me.” 

The words were out there before he could stop them.  Her stricken expression -- Theron covered his face with his hands. “Don’t – I didn’t – I’m awful at this.” 

He was so, so bad at anything that wasn’t work related.  He was competent in everything there.  Personally?  No, never. 

Gently, he could feel her pulling his fingers away from his face.  Eva looked up at him, sad but still unfailingly kind.  “I get it.  The show’s starting soon.  I do need to get going.” 

Theron almost told her not to go.  Almost.  “Thanks for the invitation.  Maybe another time.” He gave her hands a squeeze. 

Then Eva stepped in and kissed him their last kiss.  It was a sweet, chaste, determined press of the lips, ever teasing yet still respectful of his wishes to do nothing on his birthday.   “Happy birthday, Theron,” Eva said as she pulled away. 

“It’s happier than it was,” he said softly.  He was a mess. 

She effortlessly scaled his balcony railing and leapt back onto the Thief, the dress being no impediment to her.  Eva turned to face him one last time.  “If you need anything – or want anything – let me know.”  The dark eyes… he almost felt bad.

Almost.  This couldn’t happen.  He needed to get back on the job. 

He nodded, numb.  “I will.  Have a good night.”

Eva thumbed a button on her wrist comm, and the Thief pulled away from his building.  “Good night.”  She waved.  He waved back. 

He stood and stared after the ship as it moved across the skyline of Coruscant until it was nothing but a speck in the distance. 

Eva was gone. 

“Theron Shan = idiot.”  T3 squawked at him.

“I didn’t ask your opinion.” 

“Theron Shan = idiot = fact.”  The little droid made another dissatisfied noise and rolled back into Theron’s apartment. 

~~

Are we still on good terms?

Three weeks later, Theron sleepily frowned at the message from Eva – the first message since his birthday.  He’d appreciated the distance… for his career.  And for his issues too.

He still wasn’t reinstated.  Maybe… maybe that night wouldn’t have made a difference.  But maybe it did, and he just didn’t know it yet. 

… He’d make it up to her, someday.  But…for now…it was the least he could do for her.

Yeah, of course.

He thought nothing more of it and went to bed.

There was never an answer.

~~

A shrill alert blasted through Theron’s brain and woke him out of an aided-by-alcohol sleep.  “What the –”

To: TS

From:  MT

Turn on the holonews. Get your ass into the office. 

The call.

It had come.

The worst eight weeks he’d had in a long time were over.

(…”the worst” was just beginning.)

[legacyofabsolutewalnuts]

Chapters: 7/? Fandom: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Male Imperial Agent | Cipher Nine/Theron Shan, Imperial Agent | Cipher Nine/Theron Shan Characters: Theron Shan, Male Imperial Agent | Cipher Nine, Lana Beniko, Senya Tirall, Belville Abelard (oc), Abelard family (ocs), Lt. Pierce (Star Wars) Additional Tags: Awkward Family Reunion, Fluff and Humor, Emotional Manipulation, Bel hasn't seen his family in years it's a lot, meanwhile Theron is trying to figure out what a family dinner is, more tags to be added as I add chapter I suspect, kotfe/kotet spoilers abound, Angst Series: Part 2 of Belville Canon Summary:

Chapter 6 is up! I promise we’re getting toward some action and humour again, just gotta get through some angst for the moment. It’s been a busy few weeks, what with starting two new jobs, but I’m hoping to get the next one up shortly. Reviews, critiques and feedback are welcome and appreciated! They feed my soul

[annantlegacy]

Day 3: Trust for @theronshanweek-official

Trust? It’s a heavy word. A tangled knot of fraying twine, and pulling any one bit makes the whole thing worse. But he can’t help but tug at what looks like an end, snaking from a snarled mess. Something catches, a new series of knots and snags. 

Trust in the Force. Trust me--you will find your way. Trust nobody in your line of work. Trust us, we’re a team. Trust in the Republic to do what’s right. Trust yourself.

Trust yourself. 

He drops the whole mangled twin-ball at this one. This impossible one, this Gordian, tied-up cipher of pain. Would he ever be able to earn back his own faith, to trust himself again?

[kunoichi-ume]

“Take all the time you need” prompt for your least written about characters

Hurt/Comfort Dialogue Prompts

Thanks for sending this! It took me a bit to write it but I really enjoyed exploring this vulnerable moment for Rugama. Is she my least written about character? No, I have some I haven’t written at all (GASP) but she is the one I have dabbled with that I really want to do a whole story for but just haven’t been able to dive into another wip with everything I already have going.

Words: 785

Characters: Rugama Neiu and Theron Shan

Timeframe: sometime during the war with Zakuul

Rugama’s hand shook as she reached for the object on the table before she lost her nerve and snatched her hand back to her lap. This was silly, she chided herself, she should be better than this, afraid to even turn the damn thing on. She was Sith, a former Dark Council member and a Darth - the leading of an Alliance to save the whole galaxy. She didn’t need to prove herself to anyone.

Except herself, she thought with a sigh. She’d managed her whole life without this, what was the last few years? The way things were going she wouldn’t live to old age, right? Rugama closed her eyes and sighed again, the war was never ending but no excuse to give up. She was only alive today because she refused to surrender, regardless of how hopeless the situation was.

Sitting with her eyes closed, Rugama felt Theron’s presence in her mind before hearing him enter their shared room. She feigned ignorance of his arrival as he moved about the space, leaving his boots at the door, dropping his jacket over the back of a chair, all the routine things he did everytime he retired to their room for the night. 

The sofa dipped slightly as Theron sat next to her, close enough that the movement made her smaller body slid into his side. 

“Avoiding practice again?” Theron asked, his voice soft as he broached what he knew was a sensitive subject. 

Rugama opened her eyes and glared halfheartedly at Theron. “No.” She paused for a beat and sighed for the third time in so many minutes, “yes.”

Theron reached up and toyed with a loose lock of hair that had fallen out of her bun, “why?”

Inhaling deeply, Rugama looked away and stared at the datapad on the table. “I don’t know, it’s just so… difficult.”

Fingers brushed her chin softly before Theron turned her face back his way, “I’ve never known you to back down from a challenge Ru. Why does this have you so hesitant?”

The question made Rugama’s chest tight, anxiety rising to an all time high. Theron was right of course, she’d faced harder challenges. Hell, this wasn’t even a life or death situation - she wasn’t even risking a flimsy cut. It was the big “what if” that was stopping her everytime she reached for the datapad. What if she couldn’t do this? What if there was something wrong with her? What if she was not smart enough? She’d never been to school, and that was where people learned to be smart - wasn't it?

“What if I can’t do it?” Her voice was barely a whisper but the widening of Theron’s eyes showed he heard her. “What if I try and I’m just not bright enough to understand?”

Theron shook his head, turning in his seat to face her properly. “Ru, that’s probably the stupidest thing I have ever heard you say. Look at what you have accomplished, earning your freedom, a spot on the Dark Council - impressive even if I still disagree  with their politics. Hell, the Emperor himself picked you out as his greatest threat. And you did all of that without a basic skill most people fail to appreciate.” Theron shook his head, lips turned up into a smile, “that will never fail to impress me. I honestly don’t think there is anything you can’t do but babe you have more than proven you don’t need to be able to read to succeed.”

Chewing nervously on her lower lip, Rugama turned Theron’s words over in her mind. He was right of course, she only had the most basic understanding of aurebesh but that had never really stopped her. Slowed her down occasionally perhaps but there were endless ways to get information, many without any reading required on her end. But still… “I want to learn, Theron.”

Warm eyes studied her expression carefully for a long moment before Theron leaned forward, snagging the abandoned datapad off the table. He offered it to her with an encouraging smile, “then take all the time you need, but you can’t learn if you don’t try. Don’t forget I’m here to help anyway I can, I’m not going anywhere.”

Finally taking the pad, Rugama pulled up the youth holonovel Theron had helped her download weeks ago. Instead of the nervous fluttering in her stomach she felt earlier she felt grounded, ready to face this challenge and she had no doubt it was the support of the man at her side. “I hope you meant that,” she said, smiling up at him before settling more securely into his side in to practice, “I plan to hold you to that one Shan.”

[greyias]

FIC: Smoke and Mirrors - Chapter 17

Title: Smoke and Mirrors Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T Genre: Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn Synopsis: Something’s rotten on Carrick Station, and Theron won’t rest until he finds out what. But picking at the frayed threads of suspicion quickly unravels a conspiracy much larger than even the Republic’s top spy can handle on his own. (A mostly canon-compliant retelling of the Forged Alliances storyline, as seen through the eyes of Theron Shan.) Author’s Notes and Spoilers: See Chapter 1.

Chapter Index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | Crossposted to AO3

As soon as he was inside the door of his apartment, Theron had the chip out of his pocket and inserted it into his datapad. The first file on it wasn’t any official SIS document at all but apparently a note, written especially for him:

So here I am, minding my own business, when this intel request comes across my desk from none other than your old buddy, Rian Darok. I pulled it, but then I asked myself, what does a SpecOps officer need with this information? From what I can tell, cracking down on cargo smuggling isn’t the highest of priorities for him and his team. I pulled a copy for you too, since you’re so interested in “oddities” right now. I don’t know what you think is going on, but you know this guy has clout right? And not just in SpecOps. Watch yourself. — JB

Theron tried not to roll his eyes as he paged to the next file on the chip. Jonas was a good man to have along on a mission, but sometimes he could get hung up on something. Apparently in this case it was the havoc that Rian Darok could cause for an unsuspecting SIS Agent. Which wouldn’t be a problem, because Theron was suspecting everything right now. Which was probably good for his survival chances in the short term, but would probably give him hypertension if he ever lived long enough to see old age.

He scanned over the pulled file, but as Jonas said it was… just odd.

"Known Smugglers: Inner Rim" was just what it said. A giant list of cargo smugglers that operated in the Inner Rim. And by giant, he meant several thousands names. It would take far too long for him to cross-reference every name by hand. He was going to need to get creative on this.

He sat down at the terminal in his apartment, and began to start typing. The programming required to cross-reference the names against what he knew about the Korriban and Tython ops was complex, and he had to be very careful to hide his trail in case it dinged anything classified. The SIS didn’t keep it’s data on the HoloNet, but it definitely had its own hooks into the system. If he needed to do a deeper search on any of the names of the list, he could do that manually, but he needed to narrow this down to something manageable, otherwise he could be chasing a dead lead for months.

The chronometer had already ticked well past midnight, and he was nearing the end of his coding efforts when his implants alerted him to a new message in his inbox. He finished his train of thought, then pulled away from the data terminal, feeling his muscles protest at the motion after being hunched into one position for so long. Scooping up his forgotten datapad, he opened up his inbox to see who had written.

To: Theron Shan From: Greyias Highwind Subject: Late Reply

I must apologize for the delayed reply. Our latest mission hit a slight snag, and I only now have had time to catch up on my correspondence. Barnaba is a very lovely travel spot, as long as you don’t mind the occasional internal spat between royal houses. Kira wants to buy a timeshare here. She says that it would be a fun vacation spot. I tried to remind her we don’t collect a salary (as you accurately pointed out), but Doc nixed the idea before I could, saying this visit gave him too much work already and doesn’t want any more gray hairs. He can be a bit vain at times but is probably right in this case.

It sounds like you have been keeping yourself busy as well, even if it was perhaps less exciting work. Did you ever find what you were looking for in all of that data? I don’t know if it helps, but in a letter about the ongoing reconstruction efforts at the temple, the Grand Master mentioned a missing Rakata artifact. I unfortunately didn’t have much time to spend in the archives during our initial reconstruction efforts, but I didn’t see any artifacts tucked under anyone’s arm while they were leaving. Perhaps it was extracted during the original raid? I must confess, if the Council was hiding a piece of Rakata technology, then they did not want it falling into the wrong hands. In my own experience it is rarely used for benevolent purposes.

If the artifact was included in the SIS’s reports, I wonder if it is mentioned there the exact nature of the device. I could enquire further with Master Satele regarding it, but I am afraid I am not very good at concealing the truth from her in matters such as these. It is probably best if I don’t attempt it unless you think it’s necessary.

I think I hear my self-appointed keeper returning. I must wrap this up before he confiscates this datapad as well. I will continue to wait to see if you discover anything considered “noteworthy”.

I have a feeling you will know exactly where to find me.

As he finished the letter, Theron couldn’t help the frown. A missing piece of Rakata tech definitely could have been among the missing items. He’d have to check into the official report, but it would take a few extra steps to keep his name from showing up on the logs since they’d closed out the investigation. Surely the Empire wouldn’t have conducted an entire raid in the heart of the Republic for just one artifact. Surely their resources would have been better directed elsewhere. The more he tried to fit the pieces of all of this together, the less this made sense. There was something else going on here, he just wasn’t connecting the right dots.

He glanced back at the data terminal, his back screaming in protest at the thought of returning to the hunched over position so soon. He began to perform a series of exercises to try and stretch out the kinks, carefully balancing the datapad so he could re-read the contents of the letter again as if it might magically answer any of the questions it raised. As he focused on the details to see if he missed anything regarding the artifact, the reason for the delay in reply started to prickle at him. The letter had definitely been written with far more reserve than the previous ones.

As he finally worked free the knot in his lower back, he pulled up the HoloNet and ran a search on news articles for the Tapani sector. He didn’t need to look far to find the buzz about a daring rescue of an entire orphanage from the nefarious plot of a rogue minor house trying to curry favor with the losing house in the Barnabas succession. They apparently took the building as a hideout concealing a hidden stash of weapons and had planted dentonite around the perimeter. All orphans had safely been pulled from the exploding building and while the article didn’t say there was going to be a statue erected in a certain Jedi’s honor, Theron half expected it to. He was already scrubbing a hand across his face by the time he got to the end. Beyond being possibly the most disgustingly cliched do-gooder he’d ever met, the woman was a giant flashing neon sign that attracted attention wherever she went. What the hell had he been thinking bringing her in on this? There was no way they were going to remain under the radar if she stopped what she was doing every five seconds to rescue kath pups and nexu kittens.

He opened up a new message, and stared at it for a few moments before he began writing out his reply:

To: Greyias Highwind From: Theron Shan Subject: Interesting

I’m sure the life of a Jedi Knight is very busy, especially one that seems to wind up on the top of the HoloNet News feed as often as you do. It’s understandable that you can’t always reply to every piece of mail you get right away. Although I do admit I was thinking I’d hear back sooner than a week. 

But your reply, even delayed, is appreciated. I hadn’t gotten far sifting through the data, but I’m going to double-check the report when I get in tomorrow to see if I can find the piece of tech you mentioned in the log. If the Council had it locked up, I doubt they were willing to share with the SIS the exact nature of the device. But hey, maybe we’ll get lucky and everyone will have been in a sharing mood. Hope springs eternal right?

Speaking of the Council, I think you’re right in that we should probably not share anything with the Grand Master right now. All I have right now are threads and suspicions, but nothing concrete. We need to figure out what’s going on before anyone’s going to take us seriously. I’m getting there, but it’s slow going. I’ve gotten some leads on Darok, but they’re just… odd. He’s started requesting intel, like on the weaponization of the Iso-5 on Tython. That makes sense. My other lead is just confusing, and I’ve got no idea what it means. I was actually working on it when your message came. If anything comes from it, I’ll let you know.

Theron stared at the blinking cursor, trying decide if he should end it there, but something was still nagging at him. Rescued orphans aside, there was nothing in the report that indicated why it took her an entire week to check her inbox, seeing as that incident had occurred almost five days ago. It was none of his damn business and he didn’t care. He really didn’t. Not beyond keeping an eye on a potentially valuable asset for his operation. Still, it felt as if he didn’t quite have control over his fingers typing out the last portion of his reply.

Now, it’s not my business or anything, but in my line of work I’m used to reading between the lines. I couldn’t help but notice you mentioning everything but exactly what delayed your reply. If I do find something, are you going to be up to joining my investigation? Or do I need to write your medic for permission first? Hopefully you managed to hide that datapad from him successfully enough so you don’t have to smuggle another one just to check your mail.

I’ve got to finish running down this other lead before I call it a night. If I find anything new, I’ll be in touch. Try not to blow yourself up rescuing another orphanage in the meantime.