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corruptlight · 2 months

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Oh, My Love - A SWTOR Story

In which the Commander gets stabbed on Nathema instead of Theron Shan.

Its me back on my bullshit instead of sleeping (help) and I've been in SWTOR brainrot for a long while now and I keep thinking and creating stories based off my silly little swtor characters.

This isn't edited by the way

"I love you Theron, please, come home." Lana shuts off the holo and Sylvi begins to leave the room. Not saying a word as Lana watches sadly, knowing it was better not to say anything.

"I'm going for a walk in the woods, clear my mind." Was all she said before leaving, and not even going towards the woods. Sylvi heads for a secret shared apartment that no one knew off except her, Theron, and C2-N2.

It was for her to stop Theron being a workaholic and sleep and for her to get away from the alliance and being its commander. She lazily opens the door, before walking towards the lounge and slumping onto it. Too lost in her mind, the only thing keeping her going had ceased to exist and she finally tumbled down into a dark abyss of depression, shame, and self-loathing.

><><><

"I swear when I get my hands on him-" Trygve starts while Ingrid and Víðarr stand with him in the field where the former Cipher Nines ship resides.

"Trygve..." Víðarr starts but Trygve swirls to face him with a firm finger pointed at him.

"HE WILL FEEL EVERY AGONY, EVERY FORM OF TORTURE POSSIBLE FOR WHAT HE DID. I WILL SEE HIM BREAK FOR WHAT HE DID TO HER!" Trygve yells, making Ingrid flinch to hide behind Víðarr making the male twin sigh and calm himself slightly at her behavior.

"Brother, we will find him. I promise you, and we will make him pay," Víðarr assures, "But, you cannot deny something about this is off."

Ingrid moves from her position slightly behind the Sith, opening her mouth to say something before her comlink goes off.

"Ingrid here," She says while answering it.

"Its Hylo, we've found the pirate that keeps raiding the transports." Hylo Viz explains before disconnecting, making Ingrid close her eyes.

"I'll go, I sense something about this that's... familiar." Ingrid says to the brothers.

"Sense what?" Trygve quizzes, making Ingrid smile slightly.

"I sense someone that I'll love until the stars go cold." The Zabrak then turns on her heel and walks away with haste.

"Andronikos revel." Víðarr whispers with a small smirk.

"That pirate that helped her recover Tulak Hord's artifact on Tatooine?" Trygve asks.

"How do you-- another time. Lets go find Lana and figure our next move to find Theron."

"Vaylin! You have too stop her!"

"It is a tainted world."

"The Force is... wrong here."

"There are things in there even I cannot protect you from."

Sylvi shoots up in a sweat, another nightmare plaguing her sleep, however, this time it felt like a warning from the Force.

"Nathema..." She whispers before springing to her feet, half consciously, half on auto-pilot.

She needed to leave Odessen, without anyone knowing, following or finding her. Suddenly feeling like she was in a jail, she checked her armor before clipping her dualsaber to her belt. She walks to her wardrobe and finds a black cloak, heaving it over herself she pulls her hood up and leaves the apartment.

She blocks off all her bonds and shrouds her force signature, suppressing it from the force users all over the planet. She knew she had to take a ship without a tracker on it, or land then use the auto-pilot to send it adrift in the galaxy.

'That would throw them off my scent.' Sylvi realizes before maneuvering to the hanger. It was midnight and no sane person would be up unless they were on patrol.

The raven haired Jedi peeks around the corner, seeing an officer on patrol. Though she hated it, Sylvi forces them into a sleep before gently having them fall to the ground and running across to the fighters. She looks around before force leaping onto a fighter, once she does she hears voices coming towards the hanger before they notice her sleeping soldier.

"Over there!" Admiral Aygo calls out before getting onto the comms and shouting orders for flight control. Because the group couldn't identify Sylvi, they figured her to be a spy, saboteur, or assassin and that was a means for capture at any cost.

"Sithspit." Sylvi curses under her breathe before getting the ship fired up and getting ready to fly out.

In her quarters, Ingrid stirs feeling a heavy and firm arm around her waist. The Zabrak hears her comm beeping and uses the force to bring it to her.

"This better be important." Ingrid hisses.

"Ingrid! We have a situation in the hanger with an unknown assailant attempting to flee in a fighter. Their intent is unknown and they appear to be a force user!" Aygo explains making her groan, feeling the person behind her start to wake.

"I might not be able to get there in time." Ingrid replies, while attempting to move but the arm around her waist keep her flush to the persons chest.

"Understood, we will attempt to detain them." Aygo tells her before she turns off her commlink.

"Andronikos..." Ingrid starts but the pirate wasn't letting her go.

"Forget them, they've got it handled." He tells her lazily, planting kisses on her shoulders and gently taking the commlink and throwing it somewhere.

"This is important."

"So? You've skipped out on dark council meeting for less." Andronikos argues, not letting her go after getting her back. The pirate moves towards the Zabraks neck slowly, knowing it would help his argument for her to stay.

"Yes... I... I know this, but..." She keeps trailing off, finding it difficult to speak, and Andronikos smirks knowingly.

"But, Sith?"

Sylvi gets the fighter moving and knows Aygo and attempting to comm her, but she left it in the staging area so he wasn't getting an answer. She watches as he sends men to go find her in what most assumed were her private quarters.

Once she finds the opportunity she flies out of the hanger and into the atmosphere while getting the hyperdrive ready and finding the tracker at the same time.

Eventually, finds two wires she remembers her brothers telling her were for the tracker and weapons.

"Blast, which one was it." Sylvi asks herself before deciding to pull them both out.

What could go wrong?

As she pulls the wires an alarm start blaring to tell her weapons were disabled. She groans before glancing to see if she was clear to jump.

"Flying is for droids." She grumbles before entering hyperspace.

Leaving her with only her thoughts and the stars.

#swtor #swtor sith warrior #swtor spoilers #jedi consular #swtor jedi knight #swtor sith inquisitor #lana beniko #theron shan #altara legacy #my characters #swtor oc #star wars the old republic #i am tired #this is really just for me #my silly little ocs

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rubensmuse · 1 year

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okay people who have played through KOTXX and are better at paying attention than me, i need your help. now, i’m not complaining about having all my best friends in my clubhouse on odessen, but like. what are they all doing there? what is everyone’s, like...rank? like. like how are their responsibilities delegated outside of game mechanics in the context of us being...an independent military entity, or an autonomous separatist mini-government, or whatever we are? if Theron’s doing his taxes, what the fuck is the actual job title on his W2??

anyway here’s what i’ve worked out so far:

Commander: Commander

Lana: Evil Advisor Spymaster

Theron: Lana’s mook

Aygo: Admiral (meaning he technically outranks me but let’s ignore it for now)

Hylo: somehow NOT my Admiral????

Dr. Ogurubb: Director of Research

Gault: Human Resources

Senya: Arcann’s mom

Arcann: unemployed

Koth: Director of Transportation

#okay but seriously if anybody can tell me what Theron's job description is i'd be really grateful #swtor #kotfe #kotet #lana beniko #theron shan #koth vortena #just squirrelly things

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queen-scribbles · 1 year

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WAIT ]: realizing the receiver is about to leave the room, the sender hastily reaches out and catches their wrist, preventing them from continuing their departure.

Unfocused

hoo boy, full blast pining!Arcann Ardrali fic for you. Like. High-key isn’t even a strong enough descriptor. It’s stratospheric. (ps this is post-Unbowed, so she’s pining too, but POV is all him :D)

----

Arcann was halfway through stack of reports he’d agreed to review when the faint flicker of another presence disrupted his focus. He’d been so absorbed in his task, he’d failed to pick up the quiet muttering from the next archive aisle over until the individual moved closer. There was an intensity that gentled around the edges--white hot focus framed in soothing blue--which made him fairly certain he knew who it was.

Arcann let his gaze drift up from the datapad in his hand, biting the inside of his cheek as he debated whether it would be a good idea to interrupt her. There was a subtle flare of something... irritation? frustration? that broke his internal stalemate in the selfish direction, and he pushed out of the chair. He needed a break, anyway.

The muttering stopped as he stepped around the end of the aisle, and Endrali met his gaze with a sheepish smile.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, managing to school his reactive smile into something more acceptable than it wanted to be.

“Not... really. Some information is eluding me. Sorry if I bothered you.” Endrali ran a finger around the hood of the search terminal in front of her. She cocked her head and studied him. ”Though, come to think of it, this isn’t somewhere I’d expect to find you to be bothered.”

“I offered to look over the recent reports from Admiral Aygo’s men,” Arcann explained. “To see if I noticed anything in the unrest they’ve been handling that bears connection or similarity to the... incidents we’ve handled.”

Endrali huffed a laugh, which was a fair reaction. Tassar at least was more than an incident. “Ah, good idea. I’m sure that’ll be appreciated. You’re doing it in here because...?”

“It seemed the place I’d be the most out of the way while still having easy access to the information I might need.” He didn’t mind the prodding; this was hardly one of his usual haunts around the base. “And you? What information is proving so elusive?”

“Oh, I told Hylo I’d do some research on the Unknown Regions and people who had visited or explored them to see if there’s any leads on resources we could use.” She wrinkled her nose and played her fingers idly over the terminal’s keys. There was a tremor of something he couldn’t place to her sense before her gaze dropped back to the query screen. “One of the predominant explorers isn’t where he should be listed in the database...” Something flickered in her eyes. “Unless....” She tapped keys more deliberately, and her brow furrowed even as triumph flared through her sense. “There you are! “

It took a strong effort to suppress a laugh at her mingled pique and enthusiasm.

Endrali plugged in a datastick to download what she needed and flashed another apologetic smile as she looked up, tucking hair behind her ear. “So it appears the archive staff need a gentle reminder on how to honor different cultures’ naming conventions when adding to our database.” She flicked a glance toward where he’d come from. “Sorry again if I disturbed you.”

“It’s alright,” Arcann assured her, fighting the urge to smooth back a strand she’d missed. “I was starting to see double, so a break is probably wise.”

She cocked her head. “Don’t work yourself too hard.”

I’d work myself into the ground for this second chance. Even if the care in her tone made his heart skip a beat, it was a rather pot meet kettle sentiment, and he couldn’t bite back this smile. “I won’t. The report I was reading happened to be more detailed than the previous few, and thus was a longer read. I’d planned a break when I reached the end, but I don’t mind it happening early.” Especially if it means I get to talk to you. He snatched the thought back, shoved it down, hoping it hadn’t resonated strongly enough for her to pick it up.

“Good,” she nodded, leaning one hip against the console.

“So I take it naming conventions are an interest of yours?” he asked, partly because her quiet passion had been endearing, partly to keep talking. “To be so frustrated it was recorded wrong.”

“You could say that,” Endrali laughed softly. “It goes with the love for archaeology and cultural history. I might be primarily focused on Jedi history, but other cultures are fascinating, too. And names are an important part of that; there are several where the naming habits are a clear look into their values. Family, status, class, that sort of thing. But it can get tricky keeping track of the family, individual, in some cases clan or ancestral name orders. And sometimes there are differences when the origin tongue is translated into Basic...” She shifted her weight. “So there are guidelines for how to weight aspects for archiving, and apparently at least one member of our staff is unfamiliar with them. So. A gentle reminder.”

The terminal beeped completion of the download and it was almost a shame to watch her reel herself back in.

“There we go,” she murmured, plucking out the datastick. She flashed him another warm smile. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Endrali.” Arcann wasn’t sure what drove him to take a half-step forward and catch her wrist as she started to leave; something instinctive or selfish or otherwise. It had his heart pounding in his chest when she paused, regardless. “Perhaps we could help each other.”

Her smile widened and he almost dared think she’d been hoping he’d stop her. His grip was loose enough for her to easily shake and she hadn’t. “How so?”

“I’m familiar with the Unknown Regions to aid with your research, and you are an.. alternate perspective on the incidents I’m comparing with the reports. It would be a more thorough result for both. If you’ve the time?”

“Of course.” She shifted back toward him and he let go of her wrist. Her fingers flexed. “If you don’t mind the company?”

“Not in the slightest,” Arcann said, and he meant it, despite the one slight problem with this arrangement.

Her smile as they headed, together for where he’d been sitting was going to make it very hard to focus.

#queens fic #eyes emoji prompts #endrali jade #arcann #ardrali #otp: undone by you #i've decided the only reason these idiots(Affectionate) don't notice their mutual pining is they're both so busy #trying to hide their own feelings they miss the other's #bc both are sure the other would never feel the same way #muahahahahahaha #debated finding a more gffa-ish way of saying pot meet kettle but decided it's fine this way #endrali u nerd

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pentacass · 10 months

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You mentioned your JC in the Aelirra/Kira headcanons. Do any of your other class characters play any roles with the Alliance or ever meet either Aelirra or Ves?

Most of them do join the Alliance and have met Ael/Ves at some point in their lives! Save for my Sith Warrior, who's only met Ves (and hated her ass), and my Bounty Hunter, who's done neither.

thenk for ask <3 now time for brain go BRRRRR (warning cos yall know how long-winded i can get. add: ohmygod it got hella long)

Sedoyin is Aelirra's oldest, closest friend. They met way back on Tython, finding kinship as two talented padawans whose fledgeling fame had formed a degree of social separation between themselves and others of their generation.

They kept in close contact through their class stories, and Sedoyin was devastated to hear that Aelirra was gone after Darth Marr's expedition ended in disaster. When word of the Alliance and its Jedi Commander spread, Sedoyin was one of the first to travel to Odessen with her Jedi students, and offer her aid.

As Barsen'thor, she co-leads the Force Enclave with Sana-Rae, providing guidance to Jedi and Sith alike, and training Force healers for the Alliance. A diplomat as well, she helps ease tensions between their Jedi and Sith residents, and cajoles more Republic contacts into supporting the Alliance.

Roziq met Aelirra years back on Makeb, where they worked together to evacuate the planet's population. They found mutual respect for each other as defenders of the Republic, and Roziq admired Aelirra's steadfast compassion for all - a reminder to herself that mercy is always an option even in the bloodiest war.

When she heard of the Alliance and its Commander, Roziq wanted Havoc Squad to defect on the sly, and deal with the real threat of Zakuul. Most agreed. M1-4X and Elara refused, staying back to serve the Republic as they had sworn. It left a bitter taste on her tongue, but Roziq left her wife behind with a steeled heart, and Aric by her side. (It's alright, the parting was mutual and they'll reunite after :3)

Roziq serves the Alliance as Commander of their Spec-Ops division, under Admiral Aygo. She coordinates precision strikes against key Zakuulan targets, and often takes to the field with Havoc to hit back against the Eternal Empire.

Uyomize had never met Aelirra or Ves - but she is a friend of Hylo Visz, who roped her into the Alliance. Though she balked at the thought of having to give her credits to the Alliance (instead of keeping that sweet dosh for herself), Hylo appealed to where Uyomize is weakest - her family.

Her mother is a renowned doctor on Coruscant. Her older brother is a Republic Commando. Her younger sister is a rising Republic bureaucrat. Her Republic ties are strong (despite her insistence to the contrary), and she is loyal to her family above all.

Working with Hylo, Uyomize pulls on her underworld contacts to scrape up credits, supplies, manpower for their covert operations. Often, she'll send people to...'relieve' pirates of their ill-gotten loot, and redirect it to the Alliance. Some of the 'pirates' maaay have been Imperials. cough.

Zhaste'varu'mir (core name Evarum, or Eva for short) had intimately studied Intelligence's comprehensive profile on Darth Avriss. She knows how to manipulate Ves in myriad ways, but chose the most straightforward method into the Alliance - poison.

She contacted Ves under a pseudonym, met in a busy Nar Shaddaa cantina for the 'entrance interview', and slid to Ves a poisoned drink - "I will work for the Alliance - if you have the answers I want to hear. If not, you will return to Beniko in a body bag." Ves raised Eva's brow by downing the rest of the drink, and winning over one of the galaxy's best spies.

Eva has a deep distrust for hierarchy after her time as Cipher Nine. She works for the Alliance as an independent agent, with Ves as her sole handler. She feeds the Alliance intel stolen from deep within Zakuul, and performs solo espionage missions. When the Alliance aligns with the Republic, she stays and volunteers as an agent for Task Force Nova, finally working on her secret goal all along - to find her lost Force-sensitive sister.

Chukaem knew of Aelirra, the Jedi who murdered her Emperor, and disdained the Alliance and its Commander. She served as Wrath until Acina threw in with the Alliance - which turned her away from the Empire, and led her to work alone in the shadows, executing anyone she deems a threat to the Sith.

When she learned that Aelirra had killed Vitiate again, she swore to end the Commander's life. But when the Alliance turned to the Republic - with Darth Avriss and Lana Beniko still within its ranks - her priorities shifted. Traitors first. Jedi filth next.

Ves is at the top of her shit list. They'd worked together on Makeb, and came away with bad impressions of each other. Chukaem sensed, accurately, that Avriss did not share her (zealous) loyalty to the Sith Empire and its Emperor. She tolerated it because Avriss served the Empire well as Councilor. Now that Avriss has turned... Chukaem looks forward to destroying her. Personally.

Djixas has met neither Aelirra nor Ves, and has no desire to. She is loyal only to the Mandalorians, and follows where Shae Vizla leads. When Shae pledged Mandalorian support to the Alliance, Djixas followed.

But where Torian was assigned as a representative on Odessen, Djixas led her brothers and sisters on offensives against Zakuul - be it on ground or in space, she planted the fear of Mandalorians in Zakuulan hearts with every battle. She is one of Shae's best lieutenants, and is almost always on the field.

As of Ruhnuk, she remains loyal to Shae, but operates semi-independently to gather intel for Mandalore (with Mako's help).

#swtor #sedoyin #roziq #uyomize #zhaste'varu'mir #chukaem #djixas #yzstuff #yzswtor #ask #intheinkpot

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tiredassmage · 1 year

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*slides in* several years ago there was this thing in the Dragon Age side of tumblr where people would write about what their main ocs would be like as companions and stumbling across that again made me wonder what Tyr would be like as a swtor companion?

Things like where he’d hang out on the ship, what his companion quest/storyline would be, his favorite and least favorite reputation gifts, idle dialogue, ect ect 👀

Absolutely no pressure to answer figured I’d just throw it your way!

Deryn, I love you I love you I love you I lo-

I took a stab at this a while back that could probably use a touch up or two, particularly on dialogue because I struggled to find a balance between loosely generic and revealing enough, and Tyr's interactions so largely depend on who he is interacting with. A specific background to work from would benefit that exercise a lot, so let's see if I can work through a few ideas.

Probably easiest to adapt would be an Alliance Alert recruitment, likely provided by Lana or Theron directly if I could so indulge, but likely primarily as an asset for Admiral Aygo. Assuming he still was going by Cipher Nine (or some moniker of Cipher, to accommodate an Imperial Agent as the PC), this would assume you've run into him as one of Lana's contacts during the Shadow of Revan arc. In short, a Commander's theoretical history would thus, possibly, entail:

Cipher Nine was officially loaned to the Revanite investigation following the offensives on Korriban and Tython. Infiltration of Republic space revealed SIS Agent Theron Shan's investigations and he was a connector agent between Shan and Beniko on Manaan. He exercises caution with a Republic hero, but otherwise expresses the belief that the overall threat of the Revanites is far greater than factional differences.

Officially, Nine was disavowed and his clearances and protections from the Ministry of War struck during the investigation, sending him underground with Beniko, Shan, Jakarro, and D4 until Rishi. He's quite cooperative with a Republic hero on Yavin IV, though may be particularly cautious around a Sith.

He's met again on Ziost, having assumed Command of Sith Intelligence under Lana. He's no time nor interest in any factional or belief differences during this operation and will remark sharply if the PC speaks against Theron.

His activities during the 5 year gap for the Outlander would likely have still seen him working relatively closely with Lana and following her out of Sith Intelligence. During the course of operations either monitoring Republic space or investigating Zakuul, they may have lost contact, hence an Alliance Alert post Chapter 9. Tyr could be recruited to the Alliance thus by any class or faction, ultimately saboteur or not. Nine won't leave the Alliance regardless of the Commander's choices on Iokath or Ossus and onward, but he may be asked about returning to Sith Intelligence, to which he'll remark that his loyalty lies with the Alliance now. To a Republic on non-Sith Commander, he may express a mild distaste for Sith politics and mildly comment that he doubts the Empire has changed that much.

It would, however, be completely possible that Nine would saboteur against the Commander if they were an Imperial loyalist. He may grow suspicious of a Republic saboteur, but the game hasn't finish its trajectory with that arc, so where that'd all ultimately lead, I'm not sure.

A Republic Commander has the potential to coax him into revealing his history as a double agent for the Strategic Information Service. Appropriately encouraged, he can express gratitude for the Commander's work and for finally offering him an exit out of the Empire's shadow.

He could likely be found either in the main operations room, datapad in hand, or at the far end of the Military hangar by some of the Alliance ships overlooking the Commander's docking area.

Paring him off as a class companion is... hmmm. He might make an interesting later-comer to the Smuggler's crew with background as a, in this case, successfully defected Cipher now employed by the Republic SIS, possibly with some friction based on his loose-leash habits developed under the autonomy afforded to an Imperial Intelligence Cipher operative. Tyr would be deeply interested in such a plot of corruption and betrayal as is uncovered to be the case with Darmas Palleran and Senator Dodonna. Adaptable, driven, and loyal to the Republic without being so righteous about it that they'd never get along, the ex-Cipher would certainly see the value in a network of underworld contacts to get work done that the red tape of bureaucracy just doesn't always get to - in a timely manner, at least.

Given Imperial history and conflict on Balmorra, I'd be favorable to saying a Smuggler could encounter him there, using his knowledge of Imperial protocols to weaken the Empire's grip on the planet. A history of infiltration work would lend him well to the Smuggler's purpose there, butttt it does bump against Akaavi's entrance and I don't know if I could rob Smugglers of their Mando, lol.

Considering the SIS is aware of the White Maw, we could table arguments to introduce him on Hoth as part of efforts there. Tyr would be aware of the value the Republic and Empire place on the ships lost there and he's about 500 times more likely to be directly helpful to the Smuggler's cause than Guss, lmao. It'd take a bit of reworking the Hoth storyline for Smuggler, but I'm sure we can find a reasonable trail of events that may have led him into an operation to infiltrate the White Maw and act as a contact planet-side. With little trouble still with swapping dialects, he's introduced solely as an SIS operative, and I'd say if you want drama, let them have a three-way clash between the Smuggler's goal, the pirates, and Imperial forces (this happens... somewhere on Hoth already, I'm sure, but where??? I'm blanking atm) or save it for part of Darmas's scheme on Corellia. More casually, it may be possible to coax it out of him during companion conversations - possibly a "how'd you end up on Hoth/in the SIS anyway?" based one.

And also, we're not cowards, so I'd say he could absolutely have a romance for a so-inclined Smuggler. Tyr likely hangs out in the lounge area, probably leaning against a wall, around the Smuggler's holo because I'd have a thing against hiding him in the engine area like Guss, lmao.

If questioned about his loyalties, Tyr will definitely lean into Republic support, regardless of whether his past of defection is revealed, though he won't necessarily pressure the Smuggler either way. He can understand and possibly even respect them prioritizing their own interests first - he'd believe they could still get along well enough and help each other out; he agrees to help the Smuggler track down Rogun on the interest of keeping an eye on such powers in the galaxy and what it might imply for the war. Who knows? Maybe he's even there to keep tabs on the Smuggler, too. The Smuggler may teasingly suggest this as a flirt, to which Tyr just as teasingly deflects from saying for certain, though they may also merely inquire or accuse him of spying on them, to a calm supposition that it wouldn't be improbable or a shorter defense that such measures may be necessary, respectively. I'd probably most like to see his companion story once again revolve around that defection, so you could probably love or hate him for "not being upfront" with you, but also because Dorne's is so damn good and I think we need more of it, hehe. Because I highly doubt he's run into exclusively positive reception in the SIS and going "off the books" like this to join the Smuggler may put him in hot water and lead to an awkwardly interrupted holocall with SIS brass where a Smuggler might be able to defend his actions or brusquely inquire what he's up to/what trouble he's created for himself. As a little easter egg, there's got to be at least one even throwaway line about playing Centran Sabacc sometime together just because I can, lol.

He'd sort of be a give what you get with the Smuggler - if the Captain is standoffish and snippy, expect Tyr to be short, blunt, and unfavorable in return, though always short of name-calling. He's a professional, after all.

He could ultimately still be recruited by any class later in KOTFE. A character that did not romance him in the class story may have the option to do so upon his reunion.

I did also somewhat consider a similar background, but plugged into the Bounty Hunter story, but the Hunter still largely operates within Imperial space and if Tyr's exiting Intelligence, he'd like to put as many parsecs between him and Imperial banners as possible. He'd probably strike a much better balance for respect for more shoot first, ask questions later methods than the current team make-up, however, so I'd still consider it. He wouldn't be so fussed about keeping their hands clean to act so overly finished with the Bounty Hunter on so many DS choices that it seems like the rest of the crew finds a bit excessive, but he's also not just a lawless brutish extreme like Skadge. He could even likely take Skadge's place as the Belsavis recruit, quite possibly after being one of Zale's ferried prisoners after possible capture by the Republic as an Imperial operative. Tyr's always had a dark-realist sense of humor about vacation stays owed to him on Belsavis or in Shadow Town after his work as a Cipher, after all. In exchange for protection of his previous identities, Tyr could be coaxed to join the Hunter's crew. I'd even probably leave him in Skadge's place in that middle area before the Hunter's bridge, lol. It's a good little hidey hole for him. Idk if he'd go for a romance with the Hunter though.

What do y'all think? Would you rather see him on the BH or Smuggler crew? xD

#swtor #ch: tyr #answered #swtor ocs #this was so fun to think through hmm hmm #as companions game #vs: king and lionheart [smuggler!tyr]

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anchanted-one · 3 years

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EW.III 15. Preparations

Read on AO3

Lana Beniko didn’t think she’d ever get used to how quiet Odessen Base was becoming. The Alliance she’d helped found now numbered in the tens of thousands, not counting droids, support personnel, or even the early settlers of the newly colonized planet. But you could never tell that from the emptiness of the base. And Alliance HQ wasn’t even that big, really.

It was rare these days for more than a hundred people in a single day to be walking these corridors.

This was how heavily mobilized the Alliance Military was, fighting SCORPIO’s Empire on all fronts. They were stretched perilously thin. The only defense the base had against an all-out assault was the Gravestone , which was effectively a lightsaber blade without a hilt.

#star wars #swtor #eternal war #my writing #book 3 #lana beniko #sana rae #hero of tython #jedi knight #theron shan #admiral aygo #darth malora #Hylo Visz

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alexsrandomramblings · 5 years

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Aw, Bey'wan... I mean, I get it, but hate to see the Bothan go. Glad you can part on good terms.

#alex rambles #bey'wan aygo #admiral aygo #swtor #star wars the old republic

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cinlat · 2 years

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Blood in the Breeze: Ch 14 (Masquerade)

Parts one and two of this series linked.

Read every chapter on FFN or Ao3.

Summary: A spy and the Outlander walk into a party....then Arcann crashes it. Jorgan faces a demon from the past, and Fynta makes a bold move that everyone will hate.

Chapter Word Count: 5,928 Chapter Rating: T Characters in Chapter: Fynta Wolfe, Aric Jorgan, Theron Shan, Arcann, Zolah Holran, Bey’wan Aygo, Felix Iresso, Torian Cadera.

Author’s Note: Whole chapter under the cut. Better formatting on Ao3.

Zakuul The Endless Swamp

Valkorion's words echoed in the back of Fynta's mind. Strike my daughter down, and this empire will be yours to command. They crawled over her subconscious, leaving an oily trail of corruption that soured her stomach. Any time Fynta demanded to know why Valkorion wanted her to inherit his throne, the hut'uun smiled and faded away. The unshakeable chill that those encounters cut Fynta to the bone.

"Damn." Theron's voice broke through Fynta's musing. He held up the stolen Zakuulan Knight's armor and grimaced. "It's heavier than I expected."

Fynta shook away the remnants of her daydream and tugged on her boots. She hated the garish gold that washed out her complexion, but she supposed that it didn't matter as long as her helmet stayed in place. The woman who Fynta had divested of her armor had been smaller, but the fit would do for the short time that she had to wear it. Standing, Fynta twisted to test the joints. "Stop bitching and put on your armor. It's about time you walked into a fight with something more than terrible taste."

"Rude," Theron muttered as he shucked the red jacket that Fynta eyed and draped it over the chair. The spy heaved a sigh in one last effort to gain sympathy, then set about attaching the plates with some direction from Felix.

Once the armor was secure, Felix slapped the helmet over Theron's head. There was some teasing followed by a light chuckle when the spy twisted his faceplate into place. Then, Theron's shoulders slumped. "I can't see a thing in this damn thing."

"You'll figure it out." A flirty response about Theron still being pretty rattled through the back of Fynta's mind, but she didn't chase it through her lips. Too many other concerns occupied the space normally reserved for bad behavior.

"Listen up, everyone." Zolah called from beside the complicated setup of monitors wired into the shuttle's main system. Without looking up, she pointed down the open ramp. "If you want to make the shift change, I suggest you shut up and start running. Fifteen minutes to the rendezvous."

Fynta admired the way that the Chiss agent set aside personal attachments when a mission started. That was something that Fynta had never managed. Even before Aric, she'd rushed in when her comrades were in danger, whereas Zolah accessed the risks and acted accordingly. For the moment, Theron wasn't her lover, but an asset that needed to play his part.

"Right, wish us luck." Theron thumped down the ramp, unperturbed by Zolah's abrupt dismissal. They'd worked together for years while Fynta slept in carbonite. By the time she'd been revived, the two were already settled into a comfortable relationship, with his budding romance with Vector on the horizon.

As Fynta started to follow, Torian grabbed her arm. "Parjir."

"Ni ratiin narir." Fynta's modulated voice sounded more sure of her victory than she felt, but it was enough to convince the chieftain. Torian stepped away with a nod, then closed the hatch behind her. Fynta walked into the swamp confident that if the worst happened, the men aboard that ship would have her back.

Theron started complaining about the weight of his suit less than a klick into their trek, and Fynta's threats to his person began shortly after that. Finally, when the Spire came into view, Fynta felt relief instead of the trepidation of what they were about to attempt. She affected the stiff gate of a Zakuulan Knight, and passed beneath the watchful eyes of half a dozen cameras.

Theron's voice came through Fynta's speakers once they'd cleared the main entry. "Okay, take a left at the next corner, but steer clear of the Horizon Guard. They'll see right through these disguises."

Fynta imagined Theron with his face scrunched in concentration while he worked the unfamiliar HUD inside his helmet. His hand lifted, then dropped back to his side. "Yeah, okay, I'm getting the hang of this. Indo Zal should be waiting for us in that supply closet."

"A supply closet," Fynta drawled. "Really?"

"I didn't set this meeting up," Theron countered. There were few less obvious places to hold a clandestine meeting, but this could be the Alliance's only chance to strike Vaylin while she was weak.

As promised, Zal waited on the inside of the catering room; it wasn't a closet by any stretch of the imagination. While it held tables, food, and cleaning supplies for the party, Fynta could have parked a starship inside of it. She listened to the man's plan while servers and custodians moved around them, carrying on in their duties with the precision of trained staff. Not a single one appeared interested in Indo's meeting with two Zakuulan Knights.

According to the Indo Zal, his people had grown tired of Vaylin's cruelty and wished to fight alongside anyone who could dethrone her, regardless of past...sins. He stuttered over the part about the Valkorion's assassination. Fynta wanted to tell the man that Valkorion wasn't dead, no matter how much she wished that he was, but it was a moot point. She was the Outlander, a curse on Zakuul, instead of the vaulted savior of the galaxy. But, they would work with her, for now.

After leaving Indo to his work, Fynta and Theron carried on with their part of the plan. "Almost—there." He was crouched next to a control panel with half his body shoved inside. One hand waved toward Fynta, and she dropped an ion charge into the waiting palm.

Once it was in place, Theron stood and dusted off his pants. His gloves clanked against the armored plating, drawing the attention of a team of passing guards. They paused, then fell back into step together. Fynta almost didn't stop herself from smacking the back of Theron's helmet. His posture still tensed, Theron whispered over their comms. "My bad."

"Di'kut," Fynta muttered. "Maybe you should have gone to the party with Vector while I brought Quinn."

"Hey, speaking of which." Theron jogged a couple of steps to catch up to Fynta, then fell into stride. "Is it just me, or does that guy look at me weird?"

Fynta turned the next corner and stopped at the lift. "How long have you been waiting for an opportunity to bring that up?"

The doors opened without a sound. Theron didn't speak until they were inside. "A while, but I'm right, aren't I?"

Fynta lifted one shoulder while she checked their timing. If no one stopped the lift, then they'd make it to the promenade with five minutes to spare. "Well, your mom killed his dad," she answered, distracted by her calculations. "Not to mention, he and Vector became pals while you were running around Iokath, so—"

"My what?" Theron stammered, his entire body going rigid as he whipped around to look at where Fynta's face was hidden behind her helmet. "How—when?"

Fynta could almost see the raised brows and dropped chin that Theron wore in the few times that something had truly startled him. Fynta kicked him for good measure, and the spy fell back into character. Not that it mattered if anyone happened to be watching that particular security feed. "No idea, you can ask Zolah later. Now, shut up."

Silence settled between Fynta and Theron with only the low hum of music to drown out the sound of their breathing. Finally, Theron couldn't stop himself. "Exactly how well did they get to know each other?"

Fynta rolled her eyes and snagged Theron by the collar when the doors opened. "Come on, we've got hostages to recruit. Settle up with your people later."

Zakuul Skydeck Gardens

Arcann kept to the shadows of his kingdom, lurking like the vagrants that held out hands to those who passed. He'd never been to this part of Zakuul, not personally. He hadn't known of the debauchery taking place in the Old World, but Vaylin did.

It had taken a long time to decide to return home. Once Arcann had awakened from the hysteria that drove him from Voss, there had been a lot to consider. Senya, his mother, had been chief among them. Arcann still couldn't untangle his feelings about the woman. She had abandoned them to a cruel father when he was young, or so the story went. Then, she spent the rest of her life attempting to atone for the mistake. She had risked herself to save him, and been fired on by her allies.

A rush of irritation swelled inside of Arcann. He had only hazy memories of the escape shuttle, only the pleading in his mother's voice as she begged for clemency. Then, alarms when the Outlander rendered her judgment. It would have been a swift death if the Force had not been with them that day.

Two merchants passed Arcann, offering only a cursory glance in his direction. He'd traded his royal garb for something more suitable for a middle-class businessman, and without the mask that his subjects knew, their eyes slid politely across his scarred face and didn't return. Arcann, once emperor of Zakuul, was now just another ghost in his kingdom.

Flexing his fingers to work out the pent up energy, Arcann stepped onto the promenade. Nothing else mattered while the Outlander was on Zakuul. He could sense his father's arrogance and knew where to find them, but was hesitant to intervene without knowing the scope of their plan, or who had concocted it. Vaylin had planned a grand party to prove that she wasn't worried about the army set against her. It was a foolish choice, to underestimate their foe; her foe.

In his research, Arcann had learned that Colonel Fynta Wolfe had led an interesting life. She was Mandalorian, a stubborn group of people that Arcann was far too familiar with. She had been a spy, then a soldier who commanded the most elite squad in the Republic. According to her records, the woman had no connection to the Force, yet Valkorion wielded her like a weapon. Or did he? Arcann had yet to work out the relationship between the woman and the Immortal Emperor.

Discovering that his father resided in Fynta Wolfe's mind on Asylum had been enough of a shock to give her the upper hand in battle. Arcann had counted it as a fluke until she bested him on the ship. He needed to tread carefully around this woman. She was as unpredictable as Vaylin, and driven by duty, rather than madness.

The closer Arcann traveled to the promenade, the brighter the decorations became. People milled around the main floor in their finery, excitement rolling off them in equal waves with apprehension. Arcann knew better than to stay too long. More than one of these guests might recognize his face. When the crowd continued straight, Arcann turned for the gardens. He would bide his time in solitude and wait for the Outlander to make her move.

While he waited, Arcann used the quiet moment to observe his kingdom. Lights glittered as far as the eye could see while his subjects, people who had worshiped his father, carried on with life as it had always been. Though he had never been spoiled, Arcann had somehow managed more emotion connected to the passing of a ruler. While Vaylin railed against the Alliance, she received little more than a passing glance from the common Zakuulan. If he survived this chapter of his life, Arcann planned to study the working class for a better understanding of how a kingdom truly worked.

The sounds of battle erupted not long after Vaylin's speech began. The ache in Arcann's chest when he saw the rebels sentenced to death was quickly overcome by the surprise of the Outlander's appearance in Vaylin's broadcast. Things had devolved quickly after that.

Arcann was ready when the fighting spilled into the gardens. He positioned himself at the Outlander's back when she was cornered, grunting when her elbow connected with his ribs. He managed a growled peace reclamation before Vaylin's knights advanced, stealing his attention. His spine tingled with the expectation of a blaster bolt punching into it, but all he felt was the cool press of armor when Fynta was driven back a step.

"Fierfek." Fynta's weight increased enough to push Arcann forward, and he glanced over one shoulder to see that Vaylin had shoved her way onto the platform. Arcann dug in his heels and put his will into becoming immovable. Another growled curse tore from Fynta's lips, followed by a furious scream. The pressure released so suddenly that Arcann fell backward and would have hit the ground had the Outlander not caught his arm. When Arcann glanced up, his sister was gone.

Fynta's grip on Arcann's arm released almost before he'd regained his balance. She rushed to the balcony, and her shouted curses died in the wind. Without their Empress to command them, the knights halted their attack. Gilded helmets turned towards one another, then Arcann, before taking a knee. For her part, Fynta didn't seem to care that her enemies were now defenseless. She spun with fury on her tongue, stalking towards Arcann to jab a finger into his chest.

"You fierfeking idiot." Arcann's brows lifted. He'd never been spoken to so crassly, nor handled so casually. When the Outlander stomped a few feet away, she punched her hands onto her hips. "I had her. It could have been over."

Another man jogged up before Arcann could argue the woman's claim. He recognized the man's face, but had never been able to put a name to it. Arcann knew that the man was a part of the Alliance, so it came as no surprise when he stopped next to the Outlander and gestured at Arcann. "At least we can stop looking for him." Neither made mention of the still kneeling soldiers encircling them.

Heaving a breath, Fynta let it out in a single gush, then faced Arcann. "Are you going to make yourself useful? Or do I have to waste more time chasing your ass all over the galaxy?"

Hard, blue eyes glared at Arcann from beneath a sweat matted mess of blonde hair. He deactivated his weapon and took one knee with the knights. The act tugged at his pride, but Arcann forced himself to lower his gaze. "Would you accept my offer of aid, if I were to give it?"

The derisive snort wasn't the reaction Arcann expected, nor was the sharp jerk on his collar that pulled him awkwardly onto his feet. "Stop that, you look like an idiot." Arcann blinked at the woman. When he reached through the Force, there was no fear, only annoyance. Fynta looked out over Zakuul, her attention parsecs away. Finally, she deflated. "I can't take your sister alone, neither can you. We have no choice but to work together."

At last, Arcann saw what his father must have: Fynta Wolfe's stubborn resilience. Though lacking the Force, she faced the task of removing Vaylin as a threat without being daunted. Arcann nodded, projecting his respect into his body language. "I stand with you, Outlander."

The Petulant Bitch Galley

Fynta paced the galley, gaze glued to the man in the far corner. The rest of the ship's inhabitants had either made themselves scarce or were positioned in areas of weakness to act as guards. Fynta was the only one in the room with Arcann, and he watched her with a vague curiosity that made her want to punch him.

The decision to accept Arcann's treaty had been rash, but not spontaneous. Lana had brought forth the idea of allying with the young Emperor, should they ever find him, not only to secure Senya's loyalty but because he might come in handy. Fynta hadn't expected the man to drop into her lap with the same proposal.

Arcann's eyes drifted shut, and he sighed. "I can sense him."

Fynta paused mid-step and turned slowly to face the man. Without his mask, he looked more like a boy than he had before. Arcann was at least ten years her junior even without the time in carbonite. The math on whether or not to include stasis still bothered her.

Closing the gap, Fynta leaned against the table. "And?"

Those clear, blue eyes opened to pin Fynta with a look that likely cleared the throne room in Arcann's past life. Fynta found her gaze drawn to his scars, wondering if they hurt as much as hers did, then down to the metal fingers resting on the table. She didn't have to wonder about those. "My father was right to recognize your strength." Fynta's attention snapped back to the man's face. He wet his lips. "But, are you in control, or does he pull the strings?"

Fynta hissed and shoved away from the table. "Your hut'uun of a father has no control over me." She stalked away from him in an effort to release some of her anger. With her temper in check, Fynta turned back to the fallen emperor. "Valkorion might have forced his way into my head, but my choices belong to me."

"Impressive." That single word vibrated through the air in an octave deeper than one of Aric's growls. Arcann's scarred brow raised, even though no hair grew there to display the action. "That resolve may be what Zakuul needs."

Fynta snorted a laugh that hurt her sinuses. "Right. You'd stand aside while an outsider takes your throne?" When Arcann's shoulders rose, Fynta grew annoyed again. "Look, I don't want the shabbing chair. I just want Vaylin, and you, and you're fierfeking dad, to stop trashing my galaxy."

Silence followed Fynta's outburst until Arcann's head lowered. His fingers flexed under the intensity of his stare. When he spoke, the words were quiet and calm. "My hands are stained by the blood of thousands. My family's legacy is dripping with it." He raised his head, and for the first time, Fynta saw real remorse in his eyes. Arcann's hands lifted towards her, palms up in a sign of peace. "It's time for a worthy emperor to take our place."

Fynta lowered herself into the chair across from Arcann. "You actually mean it, don't you?" Again, the man shrugged. Fynta's answering chuckle made Arcann's scars pull deeper into a frown. She leaned back and shook her head. "You know, we could have saved each other a lot of trouble if we'd had this conversation a year ago."

The corner of Arcann's mouth twitched, then fell again. "Too long has revenge consumed me. I want to serve my people, as I should have done all along. Vaylin must be stopped before she destroys everything."

Fynta tapped her fingers on the table and watched Arcann. The man was solid as a rock, not just physically, but mentally. He didn't squirm under her scrutiny. Whatever psychosis had overcome him on Voss seemed to have burned itself out before he returned to Zakuul.

Finally, Fynta was forced to admit that she didn't have a better option. It was unlikely that she could kill Arcann unless he wanted her to, and he would be a handy ally. If Fynta could hold together the ruse that he didn't scare the osik out of her, maybe he wouldn't feel the need to test her authority.

"I can't absolve you of your past sins." Arcann started to speak, but Fynta held up one hand. "Nor do I think you should try. My people don't believe in dwelling on things of the past, we move forward, always forward. There will be members of the Alliance who don't hold to my beliefs. Every single person is there because of you."

Again, Arcann's lips parted, then shut at Fynta's glare. "Some might try to hurt you. I suggest you let them."

This time, both of Arcann's brows lifted. Fynta shook her head. "Not permanently, not lethally. Let a man punch you, the only damage will be to your ego. Let the mother whose children died in one of Vaylin's slaughters slap your face. Let them work out their grief and anger, then, when you no longer appear as a threat, they will work with you. It's the only way you can be accepted as a member of the Alliance."

"That is your offer?" Arcann asked. His voice held only mild amusement. "Corporal punishment?"

"No." Fynta leaned forward, lifting herself from the chair with both palms flat against the table. "That is reality. I'm not tying you up in the square for the public's amusement. I'm letting them sort through the betrayal they will feel when you walk off this shuttle. I'm holding this fierfeking alliance together long enough to defeat Vaylin and kill your father. Do we have a deal?"

Arcann stared at Fynta for a long moment. She could see the calculations: had he thrown his lot in with another tyrant? Was she as mad as his baby sister? Or maybe, she was something worse, a martyr for a galaxy full of talented killers to fall behind. Whatever conclusion Arcann reached, he answered with a simple nod. "We do."

Fynta turned to find Felix standing behind her. His normally pleasant features were hard while he looked at Arcann, but softened to almost sympathy when he found her. He opened his hand to display a comm. "It's not my place to tell you what to do, sir." Felix dropped the comm into Fynta's hand. "But, you might want to give him a heads up."

"Fierfek." Fynta had used that word a lot today. She thumped Felix on the shoulder and stepped out into the hallway to dial the frequency. A thousand greetings flitted through her mind until Aric answered. Fynta forced a smile. "Hey riduur, are you sitting down?"

Odessen Military Wing

Jorgan sat at a desk in a tiny back room that was shared by all the commanding officers. It was a hastily erected lean-to, made of spare pieces left over from the construction of the mountain base. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, wincing when he put too much pressure on the damaged one. It would take time to get used to new tender spots on his body. Some healed faster than others.

A knock on the door, a plain, wooden slab on hinges, pulled Jorgan's attention from the report. "Enter." He didn't look up, and calling admittance was more formality than necessity, anyway. Fynta had banished most of that when she took command, preferring the open door policy like in their Havoc days.

A throat cleared, bringing Jorgan's gaze upward. A blue Twi'lek stood at attention in front of the rickety desk. Jorgan's blood ran cold with recognition before his temper ignited. "Help you?" He ground out, having done well to avoid any such interactions with this particular individual. Visions of the man darting away from his wife's door, shirt in hand instead of on his body where it belonged, clouded Aric's vision.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" The Imperial accent surprised Jorgan enough to assent to the man taking a seat. He watched while the Twi'lek folded onto the equally lousy chair. Jorgan signed the final datapad and set it aside, folding his hands and glaring with impatience.

"I wanted to apologize," the Twi'lek began, shifting awkwardly. Jorgan waited in silence, pinning the younger male with a stare that used to make soldiers quake. If this man was Imperial, he'd likely seen more terrifying things than an aging Cathar with only one good eye.

Jorgan's gaze flicked to the name patch. "For what, Lieutenant Lo?"

The Twi'lek swallowed, then found his spine. "I'd prefer not to pretend that you don't know who I am, sir." Jorgan's brow lifted. "You can't hide that kind of hatred."

Jorgan leaned back in his chair, careful not to unbalance it. "And you assumed confronting me in person was the best option." He looked pointedly at the closed door. "Alone?"

"So, she told you." Jorgan didn't answer. He was a lousy liar and couldn't bring himself to confess to this soldier that he'd only learned of the dalliance with Fynta because of the security camera outside her room. Old anger rose, his knuckles white with the force of his restraint.

Lo took Jorgan's silence as permission to continue. "I didn't know that she was married, sir. Otherwise, I'd never have accepted the invitation. Think what you will of Imperial soldiers, but we don't tread on another man's territory, if you take my meaning."

Aric's jaw worked to release the tension of his clenched teeth before speaking. "How did a Twi'lek ascend to the rank of lieutenant in an Imperial military?"

The question didn't appear to take the man by surprise. "The Empire's not stupid. There are alien regiments that can go where some completely human ones can't. Planets where we're viewed as less of a threat."

Aric nodded. It made sense, and the Republic had expected as much. A few alien units were harder to pinpoint in a galactic-sized war. Sitting forward, Jorgan tented his fingers on the desk. "What makes you think that I'm interested in your apology?"

"Because I know how seriously Cathar take their vows." Lo held Jorgan's gaze while he spoke. "It's not just for you, sir. I've been transferred into your unit to replace the numbers lost on Voss. I thought it best to clear the air early."

"You think being an alien makes you an expert on Cathar?" Jorgan barely held his anger in check, envisioning the feel of Lo's windpipe breaking beneath his thumbs.

Lo shook his head, lekku quivering with the weight of the tension filling the room. "My commanding officer was Cathar, sir. A widower. He explained things to us when we tried to set him up on a blind date. Not a pleasant conversation, that." Jorgan's anger dissipated only enough to clear the murderous thoughts from his mind. "There's a lot that I don't understand, but I felt it important that you knew my side of things before we began working together."

Before you get me killed, Lo didn't say.

The lieutenant stood to leave, but Jorgan stopped him. Those parting words sat wrong with him, and he couldn't let the man go believing that he'd been manipulated by an unfaithful woman. "Sit."

Lo obeyed, shoulders tight but hands away from his weapon. Jorgan rubbed his scalp with a growl of frustration. "Carbonite poisoning presents in many ways, one of which being memory loss." They'd rehearsed the lies enough that he could stumble his way through convincingly so long as it was mostly true. Lo wasn't the only one to notice the vast difference in the Fynta from before, to the woman who led them now. "She'd lost the last ten years of her memory."

"So," the Twi'lek paused, eyes narrowed while he worked through the information. "She didn't know that she was married?"

Jorgan shook his head, and the Twi'lek released a hollow laugh. "Thank you, sir."

"For what?" Jorgan expected that he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear the man say it. He needed to know that this matter was closed.

Lo licked his lips, then scooted to the edge of his seat. "I couldn't make the stories of the woman that drew my regiment here, a woman who united warring factions and called for peace, fit with someone who would marry a Cathar, then fu—sleep with another man."

The Twi'lek turned an unhealthy shade of blue. "I mean—not that we." He stumbled over another attempt to correct his mistake while Jorgan watched. Lo blanched. "I don't know any more about your wife than the other men in the training room."

Jorgan's brow shot up, more amused than irritated, now. He wondered if this was how Fynta had seen him all those years ago. A soldier hopelessly tangled in her presence. Finally, Lo slumped. "I'd like to stop talking now—sir."

"I think that would be best for both of us." Jorgan swallowed a smirk and waved the man away. "You're dismissed. But, Lieutenant, this information is privileged. Rumors of the commander's diminished mental facilities will not help anyone."

Lo nodded and stood to leave, then stopped before his hand touched the knob. "Did she remember, sir?"

"She does," Jorgan answered, pleased that he was able to keep the fear out of his voice. Every morning he woke up wondering who shared his bed. He didn't know how long that would last. "Two months ago."

The Twi'lek smiled, transforming his features from alien into handsome. "I'm glad to hear it, sir." The man slipped through the door, leaving Jorgan to ponder how many others saw through the hastily crafted lies that the council had formed. Valkorion had changed Fynta enough that even those who barely knew her could tell a difference. Eventually, the truth would have to come out, or she might lose the trust of the people who followed her.

Deciding that he'd completed enough paperwork for one day, Jorgan pushed away from the desk and started home. His comm vibrated with a message from Shillet that she would be helping in the kitchens tonight. Jorgan suspected it had less to do with her desire for community service than with the fact that most of the youth hung out there under the guise of working. He hoped that a boy wasn't involved, then banished the thought before it could make him more irritable.

Jorgan sighed, turning left instead of heading home. He didn't want to sit in an empty apartment at the moment. A sharp pain shot through Jorgan's eye and he paused to put pressure above and below it. It didn't satisfy the need to rub, but gave him something else to focus on, at least.

"It could be worse." The voice rumbled so deep that Jorgan felt it in his chest and inner ear. Opening his eyes, Jorgan found himself in front of Admiral Aygo's office, the older man inspecting him through the open door. Aygo gestured at the empty chair, and Jorgan accepted.

When Jorgan sat, the Bothan offered a wolfish grin. "Could've lost both eyes."

Jorgan snorted, wishing that he could get away from people asking about his damn eyesight. "Hard to be a sniper with one eye."

Bey'wan propped his elbow on the desk and pointed at Jorgan's eyepatch. "Isn't that what the fancy do-dad is for?"

"It's a learning process," Jorgan admitted, though he stopped short of mentioning that he hadn't been to the range yet to try it out. The hope of being able to shoot meant more to him at the moment than the potential of failure if the interface didn't work. He made excuses, and let himself believe that simply having the technology was enough.

Aygo chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "It's hard for old soldiers like us to learn new tricks. But, don't ever admit that in front of the recruits. Enter."

A petty officer from the Imperial Navy stuck his head in after a quick knock on the wall. "Sir, we've got a problem."

Aric's comm vibrated a moment later, and he fished it out while Aygo accepted a datapad. When Jorgan answered, the tension in his chest released at the sight of Fynta's grin until he noticed how tight it looked. "Hey riduur, are you sitting down?"

Aygo glanced up, then dismissed the officer, motioning for the man to close the door. Jorgan waited until they were alone, then answered. "Just sitting here with Aygo telling old war stories."

"Good, he should hear this too." Aric's chest squeezed until he had to remind himself to breathe. Leaning forward, he set the comm on Aygo's desk. Fynta gave up on sounding chipper and sighed. "I need you to trust me. Arcann is with us. He's coming to Odessen."

"In shock cuffs?" Aric asked before he could stop himself. Aygo leaned over, and Aric heard the creak of a drawer opening.

Fynta shook her head. "As an ally. We...have a plan, of sorts."

Jorgan's lips pulled back in a snarl. "Are you fucking insane?"

"Yes," Fynta laughed, but it was airy and strained. She rubbed her face. "He's the only one strong enough to fight Vaylin. I don't like the chakaar anymore than you do, but we need him. The enemy of my enemy and all that." She waved her hand in the air, then sank into a crouch against the wall. "I need you in my corner on this one. A lot of people are going to be pissed."

Aric tried to hold on to his anger, but Fynta looked exhausted. She hadn't slept well in weeks, muttering or cursing in her sleep. Though she hadn't gone for her weapon in a while, Aric knew that the nightmares had returned. He swallowed the bitter words his heart felt and leaned back. "Okay, but we need to make preparations."

A sense of relief loosened Fynta's shoulders. "I was hoping you and Cormac could talk to some of our mystical allies. Maybe they can come up with a plan to restrain him if things go to the Void, again."

"I'll handle it. How long until you're home?" Somehow, voicing the question lifted a weight from Jorgan. Just the ability to ask his wife when she would be back in his arms warmed him after years of lonely nights.

"Twelve hours." Fynta checked her chrono. "And thirty-seven minutes. You'll be there?"

Jorgan nodded. "Wouldn't miss it."

"Thanks, riduur." Fynta's smile looked more genuine this time, and she yawned. "I'm going to crash for a few hours. I'll see you soon." The comm went black, leaving Aric staring at the device separating him and Aygo. Fynta never said goodbye, and Aric appreciated it now more than ever. He never wanted to receive another farewell message from her again.

Bey'wan clinked two glasses onto the desk and poured each half full with a rich smelling liquid. The decanter sloshed as he placed it back into a drawer and shut it. Finally, Aygo pushed one of the glasses closer to Jorgan. "Here, son, you're going to need this."

#blood in the breeze #series: meet me on the battlefield #fynta wolfe #aric jorgan #theron shan #arcann #agent: zolah holran #bey'wan aygo #felix iresso #torian cadera #slowly moving forward #crashing parties #freeing prisoners #and making unwanted allies #it's fine #this is fine

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storyknitter · 3 years

Text

Fictober ‘21, Day 1

Prompt number: 1. "I need you."

Fandom: Star Wars: the Old Republic

Rating: PG

Warnings/Tags: angsty post-traitor arc angst

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25ATC, Odessen. Immediately post-Nathema and a day or two after The Chat

“I think that covers everything, Commander,” Admiral Aygo said before gesturing to Hylo. “Was there anything else?”

Sanna. Theron’s voice, crackling and warped, whispered in the back of her mind. How was he doing that? Their bond was still broken and— I need you.

Panic surged as phantom pain seared through her torso, surprise ripping a gasp from her lips. It felt distanced, muffled somehow, but—

“Commander?”

“I...” she hesitated, feeling everyone’s concerned gaze on her. Another spike of pain and her mind was made up: “Excuse me, I need to go. My apologies.”

“Probably some hand-wavey Force nonsense. I know my reporting isn’t as dull as Doctor Hutt’s,” Hylo muttered as she strode away.

Moments later, Vassanna slipped into her quarters.

“Theron?” Her voice echoed in the empty living room, one small lamp casting dim light around the sofa. She moved quickly to the bedroom and—there. He lay motionless on the bed, his breathing slow and shallow, eyes squeezed shut and hands clenched into fists.

“Theron? What’s wrong?” She made her way to the side of the bed, her concern muddied by more emotions than she would let herself name.

“You’re here... thank the stars, I can’t—” He broke off with a hiss, followed by another slow breath. “I need to take my pain meds but moving— augh. Ow,” Theron finished with a whimper and stilled.

“Oh! Of course,” she said, jolting into action as though stuck by a pin at that whimper. “Give me just a moment.”

“Not going anywhere, San,” he mumbled as she grabbed a mug and filled it with water from the ‘fresher sink. The bottle of pain medication was hard to miss: it sat at the far edge of the nightstand, just out of arm’s reach.

Sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed, she offered her hand without thinking. “Here, let me help you sit up.”

His hand slipped into hers and she froze: it was as though nothing had changed, and yet... and yet everything had changed.

Sanna dragged a deep breath into her lungs, setting aside and compartmentalizing whatever strange mix of emotions was playing havoc with her breathing, and gently pulled Theron to sitting. Silence fell again as she shook the correct dosage out into her palm and administered the medicine as clinically and detached as possible, but his warm breath on her hands dredged up so many memories.

Her favorite one swirled to the surface: his lips soft on her palm as he glanced up, eyes twinkling with mirth, a smirk tugging on the corner of his mouth.

Oh stars, she couldn't do this, it was too much. Too much. How could he?

Theron's pained groan as he fell back to the bed snapped her out of those memories, thank the Force.

“How long until those kick in?” she asked hesitantly.

“Fifteen, twenty minutes, give or take.”

“Can I give you a pain stim to tide you over until then? Or will the medicines interact poorly?”

“Yeah,” he gasped. “In the drawer.”

Let him suffer, a harsh, bitter thought snarled in the back of her mind. After what he did to you, he deserves all this pain and more.

Vitiate was long gone, thank the stars; this voice was her own. It came from a place of despair, lashing out to keep from hurting again, and while she understood it, that didn’t mean she liked it.

Closing her eyes, Vassanna brought her focus back to the here and now, doing her best to quiet the caustic voice. Before she could argue with herself further, she found the appropriate stim in the drawer and gently jabbed Theron with it, watching as he visibly relaxed a few short moments later.

Let him suffer. Let him suffer. Let him suffer. Let him—

“Sanna? You okay?” Theron’s question dragged her back to her—no, their—room.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

The small furrow between his brows spoke volumes: he didn’t believe her for a second but debated whether he wanted to argue the point.

Apparently, he decided it was worth pushing his already tenuous luck.

“Look, I know you didn’t have to help me just now,” he said, “and to be honest, I was surprised you did—pleasantly so. Thank you.” His mouth opened and closed as he searched for the words he wanted. Was he just spinning another story for her?

“I know you’re angry at me,” he continued, “and I certainly deserve that. I’m sorry for putting you in this position: making you help me when you probably should just let me suffer.”

What? How could he know that she’d—

“No, I can’t read your mind.” Theron gave her a sad smile. “I can read your face, though. Without that Jedi mask of yours,” he gestured in a circle towards her head, “you’re an open book. To me, at least.”

Silence fell heavy between them. What could she say to that? She had thought they’d known each other so well, only to learn the hard way that he could lie to her until he was blue in the face and she would never know it.

Stars, she was an idiot. Heat pricked at the corner of her eyes and she blinked it away.

“I’m sorry,” Theron whispered, breaking the quiet.

Taking a deep breath, she swallowed the lump forming in her throat: she had no time for tears. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Yeah, thanks... are you staying?”

Sanna shook her head. “I was in a meeting.” And probably owed Hylo an apology for walking out mid-report.

“Oh,” he said. “Right, of course.” He plastered a smile on his face, but couldn’t completely hide his crestfallen expression. “Don’t let me keep you, Commander.”

#knitter writes #fictober21 #I KNOW!!! I'M AS SURPRISED AS YOU ARE!!!#*insert 'it ain't much but it's honest work' meme here*#swtor fanfiction #OTP: Chips & Guac #I haven't written in such a long time and I feel very VERY rusty #but angst? I've still got it!#XD #Vassanna/Theron #oc: Vassanna #Theron Shan #dorks

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raven-of-domain-kwaad · 2 years

Note

Did any notable NPCs survive the fall of Odessen?

Heh making me actually think hard about who would've been on Odessen and who would've been off fighting the Harla Vong alongside the Chiss Ascendancy.

So Arcann and Senya both managed to evacuate and flee back to Zakuul along with some Alliance Knights and Bryala Kine.

I like to think that Sana-Rae also managed to escape along with many young force users that she went on to raise and teach in her own way. Maybe she had help from Rokuss as I like the thought of Gormak and Voss working together.

I think I said before (on another of your questions actually) that Theron was probably going to die fighting the Harla Vong but now that I have a character that I think will romance him I’ve been reconsidering his fate. He might have stayed on Odessen or been on a Chiss world coordinating intelligence for the Alliance and Ascendancy. I might have him and his wife survive and settle on Zakuul far away from both the Republic and Empire.

HK-51 survived though was damaged. After repairing himself, he went off in search of a member of the Kine family as Amarra had programed him to serve her and her descendants. He eventually found Élise and dedicated himself to her.

Unknown fate: Vette, Jaesa, T7-01, Hylo Visz, Oggurobb, Choza Raabat, Koth

K.I.A. either during the Harla Vong war or the fall of Odessen: Lana Beniko, Lord Loyat, Watcher One, Admiral Bey’wan Aygo, Admiral Zasha Ranken, Lieutenant Pierce, Havoc Squad, Fideltin Rusk, Ak’Ghal Usar, Veeroa Denz, Treek, Deadeye Leyta, Hemdil Tre, K’krohl

The Smuggler and Bounty Hunter companions (minus Skadge) kind of merged in my canon and remained a part of the Voidhound’s criminal empire during the five year gap. The Inquisitor’s companions stayed in the Empire as my Darth Occlus remained on the Dark Council. And most of the Consular companions fled and settled on Ossus along with my Barsen’thor.

#swtorpadawan #the kine legacy #i still feel terrible about destroying my own alliance and so badly want to make an au where they aren't wiped out defending the galaxy #might play around with that with élise and her attempts to change the past #kind of wanted to play around with the world between worlds thing and maybe have her see a reality where the alliance never fell

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angryselfieman · 7 years

Photo

From Theron Shan’s Instagram Account: for the last time admiral i didnt order that holoporn and no i cant give u any reccomendations stop asking!

#theron shan's instagram account #angry selfie man #identity theft #don't kinkikshame admiral aygo #a bothan has needs!

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corey-067 · 3 years

Text

Day Three - I’ve Waited for this

Setting: SWTOR AU Characters: Corey Black (The other one), Lana Beniko. CW: Pregnancy mentions, labor mentions.

Author's note: I don't know how to write a person giving birth without it being weirdly clinical, and I don't particularly want to focus the entire prompt on that aspect of things. I'd also much rather accept my lack of firsthand knowledge and skip over the details than put all of that into the writing and also potentially get it wrong.

Sensation and emotion surged through the bond Corey shared with Lana as he set his ship down, his typically smooth landing screeching across the deck plates. The vessel barely stopped before he was out of his chair, sprinting for the access ramp.

"Smooth landin', Corey. Real smooth." Korin's voice piped up over the ship's intercom. The Mandalorian chuckled, offering a universally eloquent hand gesture at the docking bay's observation window. Moments later, he was down the corridor, dodging and weaving through Alliance personnel as he made his way for the medical bay. He was determined not to miss this.

Sana-Rae narrowly stopped Corey crashing into a datapad-laden Admiral Aygo, and he called his breathless thanks over his shoulder. He slowed as he crossed the threshold of the Medbay, stepping quickly past the rows of Kolto tanks to the medical beds beyond. Corey ignored the med-droid; he didn't need directions when he could feel where he needed to go. He passed several curtained-off beds before removing his gauntlets as he slipped through to where his wife lay.

Immediately he slipped his fingers between hers as he knelt beside the bed, leaning down to kiss her. "I wasn't going to miss this, cyar'ika. Sorry it took so long to get here."

"It's okay, my love." Lana's golden eyes flared as she squeezed his hand tightly. "Speeder... traffic is frightful at this time of day."

Corey let out a little chuckle, and nodded to the med droid as it entered. "It is almost time." The droid informed them, moving forward. Lana rolled her eyes.

"You will warm your appendages this time, droid, or I'll scrap you where you stand." The Sith ground out.

"Quite," it responded mildly. "Please remember to breathe."

Corey didn't move from Lana's side throughout the process; the child seemed very ready to be born but was as stubborn as both parents. It took a little over an hour from the arrival of the droid, but for Lana, that time seemed to extend, timed only by the bouts of immense pain that grew closer together, until the child took the first breath of air into its powerful little lungs, letting out an immense, bawling cry on its very first exhale.

"Congratulations," The droid toweled the child, using its battery of sensors to ensure that it was healthy before wrapping it and passing it into Lana's outstretched hands. "You have a healthy baby girl."

Lana rocked the baby gently as she gazed down at her, and Corey kissed them both gently as he wrapped his arms around her. "I'd been waiting for this. Terrified of it, but in a good way," Corey smiled softly. "We never did decide on a name, did we?"

The baby began crying again, and the parents could both feel that need in the Force, and they reached out together with a sense of peace, despite everything else they were feeling at that moment. It calmed her somewhat, though not entirely.

"Kamia?" Lana asked, and abruptly the baby stopped crying.

The Mandalorian reached out and held one tiny hand between his index finger and thumb, a smile blossoming on his face. "Looks like she's chosen for us," He murmured gently. "Welcome to the galaxy, Kamia. We've been looking forward to meeting you."

#Corey black #Lana beniko #star wars #swtor au #swtor oc

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queen-scribbles · 3 years

Text

You’re One to Talk

Companion piece to I Would Never; Vica’s POV for one of her busier days somewhere between Ossus and all the stuff in Echoes of Vengeance. Roughly the same length, too.

----

To the unfamiliar, the Alliance Commander looked the very picture of poise. With her hair done up in that vaguely-aristocratic style she loved so much and posture that made even her simple outfit look elegant, Vica radiated serenity well before you got to her small, warm smile. A smile currently aimed at a wildly gesticulating starship mechanic, while Vica listened to his grievances with an air of sympathetic calm.

But Theron knew her too well to buy it. There was a faint edge of strain to her smile; not caused by the mechanic, but he was surely the latest in a long line of people who wanted “just a moment of your time, Commander”. And no matter how busy she already was, refusing to listen when someone had a need would be un-Jedi-like, so she would never.

Thus, Theron swept across the hanger bay in just a few long strides to give her an out. “Commander, the general and admiral are ready in the conference room.”

Vica turned and flashed him a tighter version of that smile, halfway between gratitude and let me handle this, darling. “Thank you, I’ll be right there,” she said, before shifting back to assure the mechanic his concerns would be addressed as soon as possible. With him placated, she gave Theron a much more genuine smile. “Thank you,” she breathed, leaning against his chest.

Theron rubbed her back as he hugged her, frowning at the tension in her shoulders. “That bad?”

“Not bad,” Vica said with a sigh, straightening and pinching the bridge of her nose before heading toward the conference wing. “Just... a lot. And all at once. There’s the Republic delegation, and the security overhaul, and pirate attacks on our supply ships that mean rearranging the Mandalorian escorts, and Hylo wanted to talk about a few of her people she thinks are skimming, and a couple more she feels could be given more responsibility-”

“I’m getting tired just listening to that list,” Theron cut her off glibly. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as he kept pace. “Do they really all have to go through you?”

She shot him a look. “I’m the Commander. I chose to keep us independent. That makes the security and well-being of the Alliance my responsibility.”

“Leadership of the Alliance is your responsibility,” he corrected. They stepped onto the elevator and he pulled her in to kiss her temple. “Leaders delegate. You don’t have to do everything yourself.” Despite how long the Council and universe in general told you otherwise.

Vica bit her lip, but he still heard the You’re one to talk in her eyes. “I did. Lana’s overseeing the security upgrades, and Briyoni took Jonas to deal with the perimeter sensors that went down.”

“Oh, good, thank her for keeping him busy for me,” Theron deadpanned.

She rolled her eyes but smiled as she whacked his arm with the back of one hand. “I thought you two were friends.”

“We are. Which means I know what he’s like when he’s bored.” He rubbed her back again. “And how quickly he’ll likely get to that point while he’s here. If your sister can keep him occupied for a couple hours, means longer before he starts bugging me.”

This time she actually laughed, and he was gratified to feel some of the tension ease in her shoulders. “Careful, or she’ll say you owe her one.”

“Right, because dragging her husband off somewhere unsupervised for a couple hours when they haven’t seen each other in months was entirely altruistic.”

“Theron!” Vica protested, but her shoulders were shaking with laughter as she buried her face against his chest.

The elevator reached their desired floor and he tugged her arm to guide her off. “You tellin’ me we wouldn’t do the same thing in their shoes?” he murmured into her hair, and her grip on his jacket tightened briefly.

Vica took a deep breath and was Barsen’thor-levels of composed when she straightened. A hint of mirth still danced in her eyes as she serenely commented, “We have a meeting.”

That’s a no, Theron smirked but behaved himself, gesturing to the conference room door. “So we do. After you, Commander.”

“Thank you, Agent Shan,” she said with a smile, and had fully shifted to the role of Commander by the time she stepped into the room.

---

Vica had been mildly concerned her to-do list would distract from the meeting, but she had that chain of thought spinning away in the back of her mind by the time she and Theron took their seats and exchanged pleasantries with Aygo and Daeruun. Her main focus was firmly and unwaveringly on their conversation as they discussed the state of the galaxy and best way to use the Republic and Alliance’s resources. She trusted Aygo with the the Alliance military action--and had almost just let him handle this meeting, with how busy she was--but she did need to be at least in the loop if not giving final word on big decisions. Like which sectors to keep a close eye on and which were secure enough to spare manpower to shore up weaker areas. What to do about various Imperial actions or pirate attacks. It was a very tricky balance puzzle, and the very faintest edges of a headache were creeping in by the time they reached a solution.

“Thank you for your time, Commander,” General Daeruun said warmly as he stood. “That took longer than I expected it would, and I know you’re busy.”

“It was an important list of issues, General,” Vica demurred with a smile. “I always have time for our allies in the Republic. No matter how busy I may be.”

The general chuckled. “A most gracious host. When you find the opportunity to relax, Commander...” He pulled a small packet from one of the pouches on his belt. “A token of friendship; a new blend I encountered on Atraken. I find it quite adept at calming the mind.”

Vica perked up at the offer of new tea and stepped forward to accept it with a grin. “Thank you very much, General. I look forward to when I have the chance to try it.”

“Yeah, so do I,” Theron muttered behind her, barely audible.

She ignored him. He was one to talk about working too hard, anyway. “Make yourself at home as long as you’re here, General. I need to see to some other matters if we’re finished?”

“We are indeed,” General Daeruun nodded. “Best of luck with your other endeavors, Commander.”

“Thank you. And, again, for the tea. Aygo, you can head down to staging when you’re ready.”

The admiral nodded, looking up from the datapad he’d been studying. “Of course, Commander.”

Theron trailed her out of the conference room, and Vica pivoted, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze once they were out in the hall. “So, what’s next on your to do list?”

He gave her an arched brow look. “Try and convince my wife to take a five minute break before she dives back into her ocean of work?”

“I will,” Vica promised, resting a hand on his arm. “But I still need to talk to Hylo, and the meeting went long, so it’s almost time for my holocall with--”

“Vica, it’s five minutes,” Theron said with a wry smile. “Just go sit on a conference table and meditate or something so you don’t burn out.”

She giggled at the mental image; Barsen’thor and Commander and Outlander, perched cross-legged on a conference table to meditate like a mischievous youngling. “I will. Take a break, I mean. But the ambassador’s expecting my call, so I really need to at least do that first.”

He pursed his lips. “I’ll talk to Hylo.”

“You aren’t too busy?”

“Nah, my to-do list is much shorter than yours,” he deadpanned. “Let me help.”

“It is the sort of thing you’re good at...” Vica pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to quash the guilty tickle at ‘pawning off her responsibilities’. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“All yours, then.” She flashed a tired smile. “See? Delegating.”

“Good for you,” Theron drawled, leaning down to steal a kiss before they parted ways.

Vica snaked a hand around the back of his neck to hold him close an extra few heartbeats. “Thank you,” she murmured as they parted.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” Theron replied quietly, pressing a light kiss to her forehead as well before he headed for the elevator.

Vica smiled, sighed, and made her way to one of the more private holoterminals.

---

There were, fortunately, no surprises lurking in her conversation with the Qalitan ambassador. Just typical diplomatic chitchat about their contributions an compensations and how things stood on Qalita Prime.

Vica breathed a long sigh of relief after ending the call, smoothing a hand down her shirt as she mentally crossed that off her list. One thing down, eight more to go...

She almost ran into the aide hurrying down the hall when she stepped out of the room. The baby-faced zabrak didn’t seem fazed by the near-collision, already rambling before Vica could get an apology out,” Oh, Commander, I’ve been looking for you.” He held out a datapad. “Trestal sent some revisions to our treaty.”

Vica frowned. “We’re formalizing that in two days.” They had a month and they chose now?!

“I know, Commander.” His tattoos wrinkled as his brow furrowed. “They promised it was only a few things, minor adjustments to phrasing and the like.”

Which immediately set alarm bells ringing; you didn’t wait til the last minute to make minor adjustments. Vica groaned. This day was one long game of bop-a-gizka; get one thing taken care of and another popped up somewhere else. “I’ll take a look at it. Thank you for telling me.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am, and... sorry.” The aide frowned apologetically.

“Not your fault,” She said with a sigh, and took the datapad to her quarters to review. The timing was atrocious, and made her very glad she’d let Theron take talking to Hylo. So much for that five minute break.

---

When he’d nagged her about taking a break, dozing off over a datapad hadn’t really been what he had in mind. Theron debated letting her be anyway, but she’d have an awful crick in her neck from that position.

He sat next to her on the couch and gently poked her shoulder. “Vica.”

She jerked upright, fumbling the datapad a moment before catching it just as it started to slide off her lap. “What do you need?”

“Just checking in.” Theron rubbed her arm. “Dry reading?”

“Give me a history text over political document any day,” Vica said with a wan smile. She stretched and rubbed the back of her neck. “How’d it go with Hylo?”

“Fine,” Theron shrugged. “She has good instincts, and good evidence for both the accusations and the people she wants to promote.”

“Good, glad that was easy.”

“How ‘bout you, what’s so enthralling you added it into your schedule?” He nudged the datapad.

“Trestal treaty. They made some minor changes and phrasing tweaks-”

“Now?” Theron frowned skeptically at the datapad. “Two days before we sign the blasted thing?”

“That’s what I said!” Vica tossed the datapad on a chair and half-turned to face him. “But I’ve been going over it for” --a glance at the wall chrono-- “stars, two hours, and didn’t find anything major. All the changes I’ve noted--and there aren’t a lot--have been little things, nothing that drastically alters the terms. I think politics have jaded me.”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” Theron said dryly.

She nodded, but absently, like her thoughts were elsewhere, and rubbed her eyes. “Did Briyoni and Jonas make it back alright?”

“I don’t think they’re back yet...” he said slowly, and her posture snapped stiff.

“It’s been hours,” Vica pointed out as she shot to her feet, “more than enough time to repair a couple sensors.”

Knowing Balkar as well as he did, and that Bry was a good match for him, Theron wasn’t terribly worried just yet. “I’m sure they’re fine, Vee. Maybe one of the repairs took extra work, or they’re just taking their sweet time.” Like I’d be trying to do if we’d gone.

“Maybe.” Vica didn’t sound convinced. “Can’t hurt to check...”

He snorted a chuckle. “Technically, no, but if you interrupt their first time alone in months just ‘cause you’re worried...” He smirked and leaned back on the couch. “On second thought, maybe your sister will send death glares at you instead of me for a while. A break would be nice.”

She rolled her eyes and keyed up comms as she paced toward the window. “Briyoni, how’s it going?” A frown wrinkled her brow. “Briyoni?”

Okay, if she wasn’t answering comms, that might be a problem. Or just a bid for privacy.

---

Vica instinctively defaulted to one of the meditations techniques she knew to calm the worry spiraling through her gut.

The comms were dead. Switched off or jammed she couldn’t tell, but there was no answer to her attempts at raising her sister and she couldn’t quite bring herself to agree with Theron’s theory behind the delay.

She tried again. “Briyoni, can you hear me?”

Nothing.

She turned to look at Theron, mildly panicked despite the attempt to meditate it away. “There’s nothing.”

“Nothing as in she’s ignoring you, or as in just static?”

“Nothing as in dead air.” Vica hugged her arms close around herself. “What if something happened to them?”

“Well.” Theron stood and moved to join her. “They’re both very resourceful, and pretty damn hard to kill.” Bry might have more attempts to her name, but Balkar had squeaked out of a few tight spots of his own, and they made a damn good team. He rubbed Vica’s arms and pulled her into a hug. “They’re probably okay, but do you want to send someone after them?”

“Who?” she asked with a wry snort. “Everyone’s busy, including us, that’s why Briyoni volunteered to handle this in the first place.” She picked up her datapad and called up the speeder logs. The locator was offline.

That set her gut twisting. Calm, Vica, he’s right. Resourceful and hard to kill. She’d heard about Eclipse Squad. About Denon.

Good or bad, this also meant they had no way of knowing where Briyoni and Jonas were even if she wanted to check on them. “No point sending someone; their speeder’s not showing.”

“Huh. Weird. Let me see?” Theron took the datapad and scanned the logs. “Nothing about a crash, maybe they’re just out of range.”

“Maybe.” Her skepticism carried in her voice more than she’d meant. They would have had to go seriously off-course for that, so it was a long shot, but she appreciated him trying to make her feel better.

He flashed a sympathetic half-smile. “Here’s a plan: we spend a little while working on things we can do from here with datapads and comms, and you can keep checking to see if Bry’s signal comes back. If it doesn’t, then we worry about how to handle tracking them down.”

It was a good plan. Much more manageable than her fretting about two people in all the untamed expanse of Odessen. She shot him a grateful smile. “Since when are you the reasonable one?”

Theron snorted and kissed her forehead, not seeming the least offended. “Since you started panicking about your sister being AWOL.”

She snorted in turn and plunked down on the couch. “An hour,” she decided. “If I try for an hour with no response, we’ll have to do something.”

“Sounds fair,” Theron agreed, sitting next to her. “Emotional support,” he said with a one-shoulder shrug when she gave him a you’re staying? look.

Her chest warmed at the words and Vica leaned over to kiss his cheek before settling in to try and do some work.

---

It took half of that hour she was willing to wait for one of Vica’s increasingly worried-despite her best efforts--checks to bear fruit.

“...Yeah, Vic?” came crackling back, Briyoni’s voice slightly raised(wind from a moving speeder, maybe?).

Vica wilted against Theron’s shoulder. “Oh, thank the Force.” There was a pulse of unguarded relief from him as well. Apparently he’d been more worried than he let on. “I’ve been trying to check in for... half an hour. What happened?”

“We, uh, ran into some technical difficulties exploring an alternate route.” At least she had the decency to sound a little sheepish. “There’s a section of canyon down here, fuzzed out comms and the map.”

A cold spike prickled up her spine, her jaw tightening at a memory.

“You have forgotten what it is to face death alone. I will remind you.”

She was dimly aware of Theron’s hand on her shoulder, but it was Briyoni’s voice that snapped her out of it. “Vica?”

Vica purged the emotion and accompanying tremor from her voice. “I think I know where you’re talking about.”

“Your friends cannot hear you....”

“Are you out of there?” Even with Valkorion... gone, who knew how much his presence might have warped things in that place.

“Yeah....”

“Good. Don’t go back.” It was the closest thing to an order she’d given her sister since Briyoni joined the Alliance.

“Yes, ma’am, Commander, ma’am,” came the glib reply, and Vica couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter.

“Finish your job, Briyoni,” she reminded, a smile tugging her lips.

“That’s the plan. Get back on track, fix the sensor, be on our way home. See you in an hour or so, Vic.”

“See you then.” Vica closed the channel and exhaled a long slow breath of relief, her head falling back on Theron’ shoulder.

“I take it they’re fine?” he asked.

She sat up and nodded. “They were exploring and wound up in a canyon that interfered with comms and the map.”

From the way his eyes narrowed, his thoughts went the same place hers had. “Where Valkorion...?”

“That’s my guess.” Vica rubbed the back of her neck and shuddered, as if she could shake off the memory. “They’re finishing now.”

“So, how long, exactly, do I have before Balkar’s around to bug me?”

Vica snorted and bumped her knee against his. He grumbled, but the slight upward curve of his lips said he didn’t really mind the prospect. “An hour or so. Maybe longer if he doesn’t jump right into pestering you.”

“Good to know.” Theron set his datapad on the low table and turned to give her a serious look. “Now, all kidding aside. Since you know your sister’s fine, and you got more work done--”

She knew where this was going.

“--will you please take that five minute break now?”

Called it. She was feeling drained, if she was honest. He had a good point. “I’ll do ten minutes. On one condition.”

“I take it with you.”

“Mm, smart man,” she grinned. “You’ve been working almost as hard as I have today, Theron. If I need it, so do you.”

He looked ready to argue, then reconsidered and caved with a sheepish nod. “’S a fair point.”

“It’s just ten minutes,” Vica pointed out, dropping her datapad next to his and settling in tucked close against him. “We can spare ten minutes.”

“Sure.” Theron wrapped an arm around her and his cheek pressed her hair. “Just a little break. We need it.”

She hummed in agreement. They did need this.

---

They were both asleep when Bry stuck her head in to look for Vica; Theron slouched in the corner of couch back and arm with Vica sprawled on top of him, their legs half-falling off the couch. She grinned, biting back a laugh, and debated taking a holo of the two of them. (Vica was snoring a little; it was kind of adorable.) But it was too risky she’d wake them, so she reluctantly discarded the idea and instead tiptoed across the room, avoiding the tangle of legs. Quietly as possible--impressive to anyone who knew her--Bry picked up Vica’s datapad and typed a quick Back safe. Enjoy your nap. B before tiptoeing back out to let them sleep.

Stars knew they needed it.

#queens fic #vica nerai #theron shan #vica/theron #THEY HAVE FIC NOW FINALLY

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