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theemryslegacy · 7 years

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Adela: Home to Roost [1/2]

Summary: The familiar Force signature, the familiar voice, familiar features -- recognition settled over her with the subtlety of a sledgehammer: Ardun Kothe, former Mid-Rim Station Chief and her former handler, was here, now, standing before her on the Odessen base, deep in conversation with Theron Shan, Alliance spy and the man who would soon become her brother-in-law.

Hells.

Note: This came about, discussing with friends the spies we’ve encountered in the past, in the TOR storylines, and who we’d like to revisit. Ardun Kothe was one. I thought he would be particularly interesting, given Adela’s rediscovered Force abilities and training -- an aspect that had been suppressed during her interactions with him in the vanilla story.

Posted without beta.

Rounding the corner from the War Room, headed for the Commander’s quarters, Adela Emrys felt the hair on the back of her neck bristle. Something was about to happen. Unlike so many other times, however, there was no chill, no rock settling into the pit of her stomach to warn her of impending trouble. So was it good? Bad? Seeking an answer, she reached tentatively into the Force. She was rewarded with what she could only call a fog -- neither light, nor dark; neither good nor bad. It was an odd feeling, one similar to what she felt when dealing with the Director of Administration, Lana Beniko, but this time the base signature was different, almost... familiar?

She could hear now the rumble of Theron Shan’s voice, the lower octaves resonating off the stone walls of the cavern. At this distance, his words were unintelligible. She did not sense the presence of the Commander -- her own sister -- and an attempt to read Shan through the Force revealed little more than a black hole. So he was intentionally blocking, Adela mused. Then his guest is a Force user he doesn’t entirely trust? She might have theorized the visitor was his mother, save for the simple fact that Satele Shan, for all her imperfections, still shone like a beacon in the Force.

Another male voice emerged as she bounded up the stairs into the quarters. The voice was familiar, too, she thought. She looked up… and stopped. The familiar Force signature, the familiar voice, familiar features -- recognition settled over her with the subtlety of a sledgehammer: Ardun Kothe, former Mid-Rim Station Chief and her former handler, was here, now, standing before her on the Odessen base, deep in conversation with the former Republic spy.

Hells.

Adela blinked, looking to Theron. “My apologies,” she said. “The door was open, and --”

Theron waved it off. “It’s all right. This is someone you should meet, anyway.” A slight smile twitched across his lips. “Adela Emrys,” he began slowly, “I’d like you to meet Ardun Kothe. Chief Kothe, former Imperial Intelligence operative -- and future sister-in-law, Adela Emrys.”

“Just ‘Ardun’ will do for now,” Kothe corrected. He nodded to Adela, brown eyes catching blue for a brief, significant moment. “Pleasure to finally meet you, Agent Emrys. I’ve read about your exploits for a number of years.”

She felt his attempt to sense her out, and his resulting surprise as she both allowed it and he realized she had a very distinct presence in the Force. Then again, her suppressive implants and conditioning had been mostly functional the last time they occupied the same room, some five years ago. Like a good spy, however, his expression revealed nothing.

“Just… ‘Adela,’” she said, following his lead. “Your reputation precedes you, as well. You and your operations team made my life very interesting for a time.”

Kothe allowed an impish grin. “Mission accomplished, then,” he replied with a chuckle.

“It seems Chief Kothe will be our liaison to Director Trant,” Theron explained. There was a hint of amusement to his voice. “The Director needed a direct link, someone he felt he could trust. Kothe ran one of our best and longest-running Imperial sources. Apparently, this qualifies him for the job.”

Adela arched a fine brow. “Access to all three sides would certainly offer a clearer strategic picture… if all sources can be trusted.”

“They can be trusted,” Kothe said. His confidence and sincerity was impossible to miss. It was, however, tinged with more than a little curiosity. That, Adela reasoned, would have to be addressed later… without her future brother-in-law hovering just to her left.

“If you don’t mind, Theron,” the former station chief continued, “we’ll wrap here. I’ve got more than enough to discuss with Marcus, and I’d like to take a little time to relax before I start the trip back.”

Theron nodded. “I’ll make sure you get encrypted copies of the reports before you leave.”

“Perfect.” Kothe looked to Adela. “Join me for a drink? I’d love to hear your side of some of our war stories. I’ve heard all of his.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the former SIS operative.

“Sounds like that could be entertaining,” she replied with a chuckle. “I’ll meet you in the cantina after I finish here?”

“See you there.”

With a nod to her, then Theron, the SIS station chief turned on his heel and departed the room. Adela watched until he disappeared around the corner, then turned her attention back to her future brother-in-law. “I am sorry to interrupt,” she said. “I was looking for Ahn.”

“Ah,” Theron began, “she’s up in the medbay with Doctor Shade.”

“Medbay?” Reaching out across the bond she shared with her twin, she noted a muted sense of frustration and impatience; anything else was murky at best. She couldn’t tell if the weak link was due to her own neglected abilities or an intentional attempt on her sister’s part. “She is all right?”

“Far as I know,” her former counterpart replied. “Doc Shade insisted on checking her out once a quarter, making sure the carbon freeze didn’t do any lasting damage. Since she wouldn’t let Ogurobb near her, I’m glad she’ll listen to someone.”

Adela gave a snort. Former Special Forces medic and now chief medical officer for CorLion, Doctor Margaret Shade could be a force of nature on her own. “After a lifetime dealing with father,” she said, “Maggie is more than equipped to deal with a recalcitrant patient.” She shook her head. “I will check in on her later. For now, I think perhaps I will join Chief Kothe for that drink. Care to join us?”

“Hm?” Theron blinked, refocussing his attention. “Oh, like the man said, he’s more than familiar enough with my war stories. The two of you can compare a few notes for a change.” He shook his head. “I have a few reports I need to get encoded for him before he leaves, anyway.”

Offering a slight smile, the silver-haired agent nodded and turned toward the door. “Then I leave you to it. Try not to work too hard,” she said, teasing.

Shan gave a chuckle as she headed down the steps. “Too late.”

Shaking her head, Adela trotted down the stairs and back into the corridor. She then drew a deep breath and steeled herself for her rendezvous in the cantina.

#the emrys legacy #adela emrys #ardun kothe #super spy-boy #swtor fic #imperial agent #ia spoilers

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andveryginger · 6 years

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And RP!Adela’s reaction to RP!Annya and the kiddo...

Sensing Annya’s presence before she saw her, Adela led the way up the stairs into the main workroom… and stopped. It had been nearly four months since the siblings had met and parted ways on the jungle moon, and quite a bit had changed: Her sister stood before her now, clad in the green typical of a Corellian Jedi, rounded stomach prominent as she shifted to a slight angle. Uncertainty fluttered through the Force around her, and Adela was surprised to realize it originated with both her sister and the unborn child. She raised her brows in silent inquiry.

The Jedi blushed a bit, her expression and the bond between them allowing her to share a glimpse of her emotions at the moment -- a flustered mess of joy; affection for child and the father; and a touch of chagrin, apparently borne from sensing the astonishment Adela couldn’t quite smother. “It’s been a while,” she said. “Welcome back.”

A dozen questions rushed to the forefront of her mind, and Adela made the effort to shove them aside. There would be time for those questions -- and answers -- later. For now, she reasoned, it was best to focus on the matter at hand: Someone else’s family problems. She nodded. “It has. Thank you.” Turning slightly on the landing, she gestured to the two behind her. “Gentlemen, my sister, Annya. Ahn -- my friend and colleague, Ibiki, and his old friend, Yawkar.”

Ibiki gave a small respectful nod and threw up his neutral Chiss wall to hide behind, a bit nervous. He also couldn’t help but notice Adela’s sister, a Jedi, obviously with child. He stared for a split second, confused, before returning his gaze up. Yawkar moved from behind the Chiss, mumbling something about not being old but then looked to Annya with a smile. “It’s good to meet you; love the place you got here.”

Annya returned the smile, genuine and thankful for the distraction. “It provides all the necessities for the smuggler seeking to… avoid official entanglements for a while,” she replied. She stepped aside and gestured to the open room behind her, directing them to the table centered between two booths, just to her right. “Why don’t you come and have a seat?” She led the way and slipped into one of the seats with practiced ease.

...Yawkar crossed his arms and leaned back. “I’m just going as the friendly face that this kid has seen, well hopefully remembers.” Then he mumbled slightly sarcastically. “This is going to be interesting….”

Annya gave a rueful grin. “Dealing with family always has that potential,” she said, working her way out of the booth. Getting out, it appeared, was more difficult than getting in. Once on her feet, she looked to her sister. “Should we leave them to it? I think there's someone you should meet, as well.”

The female agent furrowed her brow briefly, watching as Annya’s hand came to rest against her stomach. Realization dawned: The father of said child was here, too. Adela nodded. “I think I’d like that.”

I think I very much need to write the meeting, but I found it difficult to avoid using Theron’s name in that context -- a necessity since this was theoretically for RP.

#ginger writes swtor fic #the emrys legacy #annya emrys #super spy-boy #undercover baby!shan #adela emrys #[SOLO] fic

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pandalandalopalis · 5 years

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Princess Adela Pendragon & The Sorcerer Emrys

Adela & Merlin

#panda oc #adela pendragon #merlin

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andveryginger · 6 years

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Your word is... smile (or smiling)

It doesn’t offer much, but...

“Yes, I rather imagine it was.” Adela gave him a rueful smile.

#ginger does writing memes #the emrys legacy #adela emrys #swtor fic #greyias

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theemryslegacy · 6 years

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My ice queen as, well, an ice queen.

#the emrys legacy #adela emrys #adela goes fancy dress #the cold never bothered her anyway #now if she could just have Saganu as a companion...

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theemryslegacy · 7 years

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Adela: Goose and Gander (1/1)

Summary: Olys suggests a plan where the best lie is closer to the truth than might be comfortable for Adela.

Notes: This continued alongside the guild plotline, investigating the rise of a criminal syndicate to intergalactic terror organization. Adela had been assigned as the intelligence liaison to CEDF intelligence on Hoth just prior to her promotion to Watcher and Director of Intelligence.

Ibiki written by my friend and former CO, @onerous-oneiric (who just kinda lurks around these parts).

Adela smoothed down the front of her white uniform tunic as she rounded the corner toward the watch desk, Olys a half step behind. He, also, had exchanged his usual attire for that of a Chiss Imperial officer -- only the bronze accents along his sleeve, at his neck, and along his belt marked him as anything other than an agent. The armored guard shifted his stance at their approach, offering a salute before speaking. “Aristocra; Watcher,” he said, voice modulated through the rebreather built into his helmet. “Keeper is expecting you.”

“Excellent, Sergeant,” Olys replied, straightening. The direct address caught him off guard. “We will proceed, then.”

“Of course, sir.” Reaching down, the guard tapped a command into the security console, and a small beep echoed in the silence. “The lift is ready for you. You will find Keeper in his office, on the Command Deck.”

“Thank you.” The Chiss paused, allowing Adela to take the lead. His hand hovered briefly at her lower back… until he spotted the numerous cameras along the bulkheads. Clearing his throat, he then followed her into the lift.

Keying the access code, the lift doors whispered closed, and the pod ascended. When the doors parted, they found themselves staring down a long corridor into a vast room. The two guards immediately came to attention, the scanners beside them humming to life. Adela and Olys offered a nod in response, making their way down the corridor and into the office.

Vast, Adela decided, was an understatement. Cavernous might have been a better description, especially now that Commander Needleman’s things had been packed and shipped to storage. Keeper had done what he could to furnish the room in his own style -- a comfortable sofa arrangement to one side; desk, computers, and other tech devices to the other. The spartan nature of the space only served to make the diminutive Chiss appear even smaller.

“Good morning, Cousin,” Olys intoned, falling into step beside her.

Ibiki had finally finished up the mass amount of paperwork that he had inherited, a few minutes before his cousin walked in. He sipped his caf and looked up from his desk. “Good morning, both of you.” Setting his cup back down, he gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk. “Please, take a seat. I have been told that we had some important subjects to discuss?”

Olys nodded, watching as Adela seated herself, then followed suit. He then turned his attention to Ibiki. “I am afraid there is a… situation… that has come to light as a result of recent changes,” he replied. “You are aware that, despite my status, I still must answer to the Aristocra of House Nuruodo, yes?”

Ibiki nodded then leaned back in his chair and interlocked his hands in front of his chest. “Yes, I am aware.” He furrowed his brow slightly. “Situation...has me concerned, especially in the same sentence as House Nuruodo.”

“Aristocra Tabarin has taken notice of my recent support for your operations,” Olys explained. He paused, pursing his lips. “Given the organizational support for the Alliance against Zakuul, he expressed concern that the relationship between your organization and my station may be in... violation of the Ascendancy’s understanding with Imperial authorities.

“I have made it clear that, as former Imperial Intelligence operatives, your organization remains a valued ally. I believe continued support is a matter of honor,” he continued, passing a sidelong glance at Adela. “I have also clarified my own reasons are not the result of… undue outside influence.”

Ibiki brooded in silence for a moment. “Our organization is still technically part of the Empire, thus I would not see our relationship as a violation, that I know of.” He paused, thinking. “But I am still a bit rusty on some of the politics of the Ascendancy as only reinitializing myself back into House Nuruodo….five or six years ago now? Being out of the loop for years makes it a bit hard to catch up.”

The younger Chiss looked at Adela then back to his cousin, a worried look passed across his features. “I do hope that this is not due to us placing Adela as a liaison to you.”

“Her assignment was of slight concern,” Olys replied. “I explained our previous working relationship, however, and was able to allay his concerns… for the moment.”

Adela shifted slightly in her seat, sensing the discomfort radiating from him, as they both recalled the holocall with the Aristocra. The elder Chiss passed her a sidelong glance. “At the moment, regardless of the devastation wrought by Zakuulan forces, the Empire is still, technically, at war with the Republic. By working with Republic assets through the medium of the Alliance, we are, technically, sharing information with our enemies,” he said.

“While I do not agree with Tabarin,” he continued, “I do understand his perspective. In light of the continual political game we play among the Ruling Houses, it is natural for him to worry.” Olys paused, offering a rueful smile. “I am, for the moment, to continue to observe and report. It makes something of a liaison officer, myself.”

“Any time gained away from his direct attention is to our benefit.” Ibiki stated then couldn’t help but pinch the bridge of his nose. “Yes, the political games….that is one thing I did not miss.” He let out a sigh. “The Ascendancy should see the threat that Zakuul is still. It is something that we should be uniting to fight.”

Ibiki shifted slightly in his chair, having been sitting for hours now and set his hands in his lap. “I do also understand his concern regarding working together. It is not as though we are compromising House Nuruodo secrets -- or, for that matter, any Ascendancy secrets. As I am sure happens in the Ascendancy, full information is never shared -- simply bits and pieces to help a common goal, while also gaining more information from our current….allies.”

“I believe I can speak for everyone here when I say that we recognize the threat that Zakuul still represents, and that our resources are better spent facing such an enemy,” Adela interjected. “The Ascendancy, however, aside from its interaction within the Empire, remains isolated. It offers them greater opportunity to focus on internal targets, rather than external.” She levelled a gaze at Ibiki. “Which is why, my friend, you should be very cautious. Knowing now that you are Keeper, they will be watching.”

The Chiss gave a long sigh and quite possibly swore under his breath. “It seems I may have to have a talk with her on the importance of not flaunting our relationship.” He paused and looked at Adela. “To be honest I had not considered any complications that may arise from my new….affiliations with her, to my standing within the Ascendancy and my sudden promotion to Keeper; nor the political ramifications of all of those combined.”

Ibiki paused, a little at a loss of how to respond to this as he had never, until now, even thought about said complications for himself. He knew the complications between Adela and Olys but he, not being anywhere near head of house, did not know of how any romantic relationship would affect his political standing. He gave a small little smirk. “Well I do suppose she does have the advantage of being a Chiss, even if she is not very...Chiss-y.”

“It is an advantage, no doubt,” Olys replied, amusement flickering across his expression at the description. He drew in a deep breath. “She would be mostly welcomed… provided that she begins to understand a bit more regarding Ascendancy culture.”

“I suppose some lessons will have to be conducted.” Ibiki pauses and smirked slightly. “Not that she is going to enjoy that.” His smirk was replaced with a small frown and he placed one elbow against the arm of his chair. With a small sigh the Chiss leaned slightly to the left and interlocked his fingers.

Ibiki’s red eyes flickered down to his desk for a moment then returned to Olys. The pause felt like a lifetime for him as he worked on formulating how to express how lost he truly was in this subject. “I...this is unfamiliar territory for me. ” He couldn’t help but pinch the bridge of his nose again and shut his eyes for a moment before leaning back in his chair again. “It just kind of happened. I usually think, well over think according to most, everything before coming to a decision on a choice but…”

“But sometimes the decision is made before we even realize there was a choice.” Olys regarded his cousin, brows raised in inquiry. Pausing a moment, his lips curved into a reserved, but understanding smile. “I am well acquainted with the phenomenon. When I first began my adventure with a young Imperial agent, I suspect neither of us believed it more than an indulgence to explore our curiosity, sparked in the line of duty.”

His gaze drifted to Adela and the silver-haired agent imperceptibly nodded. “Almost a decade has passed now, and she is still at my side.” Here, he paused, pursing his lips briefly as he considered his next words. “I had not expected to find the courage, discipline, and honor of our people in a human woman. Nor had I expected to chance the scandal and personal cost to make her my mate, my En’von’ot… and yet here we are. I cannot, for my life, imagine any alternative.”

Ibiki pondered over “mate” and En’von’ot in the same context for a second in his head. Then his eyes widened as he looked between Adela and Olys quickly. “Wait…” He raised his hand slightly to point first to his cousin then to the Watcher then back and forth again quickly. “I know the both of you have been together for some time, well not that amount, but I did not expect for you to officially….” The young Chiss leaned forward in his chair. “Can you officially?”

“I cannot - - officially,” Olys replied. “Unless, of course, I choose to step away from my work, from the Ascendancy.” He gave a taut, humorless smile. “It may well come to that, one day. But for now, it remains… a private affair.”

A smile crept up onto Ibiki’s face as he looked to Adela. “I suppose this makes us cousins now.” Then he looked to Olys. “I believe I now understand what you mean.” He paused for a moment, letting out a small sigh. “Why does the Ascendancy have to be so stubborn and xenocentric about everything.”

Ibiki took a moment to ponder, looking between Adela and Olys; to what they had. Their...situation was already difficult to keep under the ever watchful eye of the Ascendancy. With all of the help he received from Olys, mixed with Ibiki’s own unconventional relationship was not helping his cousin. He felt a bit guilty: Between the mountain of work remaining, hunting down the group that produced their messy situation, combined with his precious down time spent in his new relationship, he realized he had not actually taken the time to think everything through as thoroughly as he knew he should have.

“I do apologize that I have brought on more attention to your predicament, as it was not intended.” Ibiki rubbed the back of his neck with his hand for a second before returning it to his lap. “If the two of you ever need anything I would be happy to assist -- even if that is playing politics more carefully for the Ascendancy.”

To this, Olys nodded. “I do appreciate that, Cousin,” he replied evenly. “I will admit that I inadvertently may have directed their attention to you, as I sought to explain our current position. Tabarin was not yet aware of your promotion, it seems. For that, I must apologize.”

“There is no need for you to apologize.” Ibiki gave a soft smile to Olys. “It is actually for the best that you told him and informed me. Now I can be prepared.” He paused, thinking for a moment. “Even though I am back to being a standing member of House Nuruodo, I still do work for the Empire; my loyalties are still to Imperial Intelligence, first and foremost.”

Ibiki let out a small sigh. “I should set up a time to speak to Tabarin as the new Keeper to inform him officially; play my part of the politics as it were. Hopefully that can alleviate any concerns he may have.”

“He will likely be very receptive to the idea. I will forward the contact details for the syndic as soon as we return to Hoth,” Olys said. “There is one last detail we should address, however - - my own ‘temporary assignment’ with your organization.”

At this, Adela blinked. “I was not aware this was to be a topic of discussion.”

The Aristocra cleared his throat. “It is a logical consideration, beloved. My designation as intelligence personnel would allow an ease of travel, unimpeded and incognito.” He looked to Ibiki. “With your permission, of course, Cousin.”

Ibiki gave a small nod to Olys. “An excellent idea. Such an assignment might alleviate some of the tension, especially regarding the current affairs.” He then looked to Adela and gave a small reassuring smile. “With it, House Nuruodo might see their time is being wisely invested within our organization, while also making cooperation more secure for all involved. It would also reduce complications for us.”

Ibiki turned his attention back to his cousin. “Be sure to forward me all the necessary paperwork for me to sign.” He paused for a moment, pondering. “How do you wished to be attached to the agency? To my knowledge there are very few here that know of your position, making options a bit more open. That could prove beneficial.”

“It could, indeed,” the aristocra replied, nodding. “Some eight years ago, I chose a codename -- Olys Dul’skal -- for use in my travels, to and from Zeltros. With assistance from Tasconu, it would be simple enough to provide a background and personnel details. My alter ego could then be under orders simply as an Expansionary Defense Force intelligence liaison, and a distant cousin to Keeper.”

Adela regarded them with a frown. “That might call too much attention to our actual history… and appear as no small amount of favoritism to our officers because you are ‘sleeping with the boss.’”

“It could, for Tabarin, be attributed to the cover,” Olys began slowly, words carefully chosen. “In placing a liaison officer, the Ascendancy would exploit a past relationship to gain advantage, ostensibly to provide better access to potential assets and classified information. As to the agency personnel -- you know I am more than qualified for the position, and such ability can be proven, as necessary. It is not my intent, however, to undermine your authority.”

The Watcher pursed her lips as she considered his response. His sincerity was apparent in his expression, his body language, and in her Force perception. Yet the idea of public, personal interactions -- feeding the agency rumor mill -- with a man who was, essentially her husband in secret, set her off-balance. She could not, however, discern whether the foreboding she felt originated in the Force or her own doubts. Still, she implicitly trusted Olys. If this was a risk he was willing to take, then she would follow.

“It does make sense, for exactly the reasons stated,” she replied at length. “If needs be, alterations may be made at a later time.” A wry grin twitched at her lips. “Given that there has already been quite a bit of rumour associated with my personal life, why not fan the flames a bit?”

“I agree with you, Cousin.” Ibiki gave a small nod. “The ties associated with this cover are almost too perfect for the Ascendancy; prior relationship ties” -- he looked back and forth between the two with a smirk -- “and the ties to me as the new Keeper. They would feel as they would have two of the higher-ups under watch and have potential influence over us.”

Ibiki placed his red eyes on Olys. “In addition, I trust you and I know you have both organizations in mind vice if the Ascendancy sent someone else they would be more prone to bias, making them...complicated to work with.” He paused, shifted slightly in his seat. “I am almost certain that Tabarin would have asked or placed someone within Imperial Intelligence after we have had our meeting.” Ibiki then shifted his gaze to Adela. “As for the whispers within the agency...we will have to fabricate and solidify a more concrete ‘rumor’ -- as it were -- for them.”

His amusement was apparent, second only to his concern; Adela could almost see that he was thinking. She eyed him warily, wry smile sneaking across her lips as she found herself unable to remain entirely serious. “I am almost afraid to ask what you have in mind… Cousin.”

Ibiki leaned forward in his chair and gave his new cousin a mischievous smirk. “Well why have them start their own when we could just as easily place our own?” He gave a shrug. “Now this subject is not my strong suit, but I happen to know someone that likes to think herself an expert in this predicament we have.” He leaned back and looked at both of them. “And of course we will need to have our stories straight.” Then he rested his red eyes back to Adela with a hint of concern. “Still, I do not wish to do anything that would affect you without your permission.”

“I think,” Adela began slowly, “that decision should be made based on her suggestion.” She paused. “Though I do wonder if you mean Ibika or Kerinn?”

Ibiki couldn't help give a small chuckle then he shook his head with a slight smirk.“I was thinking my sister, but I do suppose I now have two individuals in my life with similar talents.” Ibiki paused as he got an idea. “I suppose that could come to our advantage as well...though with both of them together I think we may need some ground rules to not come to the same conclusion of your last meeting, cousin.”

“That would be appreciated,” Olys replied. A lopsided grin twitched across his lips before he regained his professional demeanor. “I understand that the liquor responsible has been determined to be a useful tool during interrogation of Chiss informers.”

Adela nodded. “It has. And, as such, any found at headquarters has been placed under lock and key… or given back to Yawkar.” She looked back to Ibiki. “And, while it might be beneficial to building the story, I think I would prefer not to poison Ch'asercuvsici again.”

“That...liquid has its own set of problems I am still trying to clean up.” Ibiki rubbed the back of his neck quickly before catching himself and returned to sitting upright. “The drink’s effects could be used in rumor but I would prefer if it was not actually ingested.” He looked to Olys. “I have already inquired to my friend about synthesizing an antidote of sort to try to counter its effects.” The younger Chiss let out a small sigh. “I will work on getting in contact with Ibika. She and Yawkar have been working together on one of the leads we acquired from Kaon.”

“A much needed innovation,” Olys replied. He shifted forward in the chair, looking to his En’von’ot and then to his cousin. “Then I believe we have discussed all we needed to address for the moment. Adela and I will await word on Cousin Ibika’s availability, and we can coordinate further at that time, yes?”

“Yes.” Ibiki nodded then stood up. “And while I do, if both of you could find the best angles that Ibika can use to find the best approach when we do meet with her.” He leaned down slightly to key in a few commands on his desk. “Now, I feel like I need a refill of caf.”

“That,” Adela said, rising, “is a brilliant idea.”

Olys rose as well, lopsided smile curling his lips as he regarded her. “I will ensure Toscanu has a fresh pot available when we arrive.” He nodded to his cousin. “Until later, Ibikinu.”

Ibiki gave the two of them a small smile and grabbed his datapad from his desk. “I shall follow both of you out.”

“Very well,” the Aristocra replied with a nod. He fell into step beside Adela, his hand at the small of her back. The trio then headed for the lift and their separate destinations.

#the emrys legacy #adela emrys #codename: olys #keeper ibiki #headcanon: chiss politics #swtor oc

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theemryslegacy · 7 years

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Adela: Opening Gambit [2/2]

Summary: For the Chiss, family politics and galactic politics are often one in the same.

And yes, this is my last one for today. =)

Even as she made her way down the icy corridor and into the commander’s office, Adela could feel the apprehension rolling off Olys in waves -- tidal waves. His voice, directed at the unstable blue holoimage before him, betrayed nothing, however.

“I am always pleased to hear from you, cousin,” he said in clear, untainted Cheunh. His eyes flickered to her and he discreetly held up his hand. He wanted to make sure she remained out of visual range of the holo.

Adela nodded, moving toward the side table where a morning cup of caf awaited her. She leaned against the table and sipped the hot beverage as the family conversation continued.

“But you are wondering why I contact you,” the holoimage said. Like Olys, his voice registered low, and Adela could detect the slightest hint of a true Csillan accent, buried beneath the digital distortion. There was also a trace of amusement in the tone as he spoke.

Amusement also crinkled the corners of Olys’ eyes ever so briefly. He nodded. “You could say that,” he replied. “So why have you called, Tabarin?”

Tabarin clasped his hands behind his back. “There are rumblings within my house -- whispers concerned about your recent and ongoing support for a particular Imperial intelligence branch.”

A spike of frustration lanced through Olys, followed quickly by a conscious effort to remain collected. He furrowed his brow, outwardly offering an aura of confusion, his tone touched with caution. “As members of the Imperial Intelligence community, they have long been our allies,” he said, “even when we do not share everything with them.”

“Ah, but they are no longer simply ‘Imperial Intelligence,’ are they?” Tabarin regarded Olys, gesticulating with one hand. “They have become key contributors to the Alliance against Zakuul… an alliance which partners them with Republic interests. That could put them in direct conflict with Imperial interests.”

“Which, in turn, could put our support of their activities in direct conflict with the treaties in place with Imperial authorities.” The frustration spiked again, internally, and Adela could sense the stronger effort it took to rein it in. “I am not naive, cousin. I have considered the political realities of our current situation. As our allies, however, I felt it would be a betrayal of our honor to allow such criminal elements to destroy the organization… or to assassinate essential members of their staff.”

“I see.” Tabarin nodded. “And this liaison officer -- Emrys, is it? She has nothing to do with this?”

Adela narrowed her eyes at the holoimage, while she felt Olys struggle to maintain his focus on his cousin. This was the heart of the matter, then, she thought. There was only a brief pause before her partner responded.

“Of course she has something to do with it, cousin,” the commander answered. “We have worked together in the past, and I know her to be a valuable asset -- to the Empire and the Ascendancy alike. Her life has been on the line, as have any of the other agents serving the organization.” He shook his head. “I would do the same for any of them. She was simply assigned here due to our past collaborations. We have since formed an efficient and successful partnership.”

There was a long moment of silence that followed, Tabarin obviously looking to his cousin with a cautious eye. “Then you have not been compromised?”

Olys shook his head. “Our allies have long known of Chiss intelligence operations on Hoth, but the location and purpose of this station remains classified,” he replied. “Beyond our own personnel, it is known only to Agent -- ah, excuse me -- Watcher Emrys and our cousin, Ibiki, who now serves as Keeper.”

“Keeper?” Interest sparked, Tabarin shifted his position, straightening. “When did this occur?”

“Within the last week,” Olys replied. “Their former commander has been classed as ‘missing in action.’ Ibiki was named as his successor. He has, in turn, promoted Agent Emrys to Director of Intelligence, and recruited several new officers to fill positions previously vacated.”

“Well, that is an interesting turn of events.” Aristocra Tabarin tilted his head to the side, regarding his cousin. “Perhaps it is best, then, if you continue to… monitor… the situation, and keep me informed.” He paused. “And do advise Cousin Ibiki regarding his own responsibilities to the Ascendancy… especially in light of his status.”

“Of course.” A terse note of irritation filtered into the phrase, one likely lost through the distortion of holocommunications. Adela watched Olys clench his hand into a tight fist, resting against the arm of his chair. “I will speak with him.”

“Thank you,” Tabarin replied. “And now, much as I would like to ‘catch up,’ I have several other calls to make this morning. I look forward to your next report.”

Olys swallowed back a retort, nodding instead. “As do I. Until then, cousin.” He reached up and severed the connection with the tap of a button. With the connection severed, he leaned backward in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Kriffing Hells!”

“I thought that was my line,” Adela said. She looked to Olys with a rueful grin. “I knew supporting current operations would put you in an uncomfortable position, but I was not aware it would create so much… family turmoil.”

“Family turmoil, as you put it, is what we do best,” her companion replied. Shaking his head, he regarded her with a derisive snort. “I am actually surprised it took this long for him to step in. He will now be expecting regular reports on our activities -- for better or worse.”

Placing aside her cup of caf, Adela crossed the office to close the distance between them. He looked up as she approached. His features relaxed slightly as she reached down and swept an errant lock of dark blue hair from his forehead, carding her fingers through the length. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked quietly.

“To be brave and disciplined and cunning,” he replied. “All the things you already are.”

She smirked at him, their hands joined now on the arm of his chair. “Keep talking like that, and you will very likely give me a complex.”

“I can do no less than tell the truth, beloved.” A wry grin twitched at the corner of his mouth, and he drew her hand to his lips, delivering a kiss to the back of her palm. “You are an asset -- to the Empire, to the Ascendancy, and, yes, to the Alliance.”

Adela settled back against the edge of his desk. She could feel the sincerity of his words, even as she watched him, asking, “Then you have no objection to our support of the Alliance?”

“Only a few concerns,” he replied. “It is entirely logical and efficient, however, to join forces against a common enemy -- especially one who represents such a dire threat to the galaxy at large. We both know that, as much as Sith rely on lingering hatred and strong passions, some are more… aware of the threat. It is my hope that even Empress Acina will come to a similar conclusion.”

“I would not hold my breath,” the agent replied. “Though, if she has surrounded herself with competent advisors, even miracles can happen.”

“Indeed.” Drawing in a deep, cleansing breath, Olys shook his head. “And now, beloved, we should get back to work. The sooner these brigands are caught, the sooner you… and your colleages… are safe.”

Adela arched a brow. “Even if it means an end to my temporary station?”

“We will… face that eventuality when it arrives,” the Ch’asercuvsici answered.

“You,” the agent began slowly, narrowing her eyes at him, “have something in mind already.”

He nodded. “Only if events unfold as I suspect they will. Now, I believe Tasconu is hovering outside my door with dispatches from last night…”

A glance over her shoulder revealed the angular, wiry Chiss as he stepped around the doorframe, a datapad and stack of flimsi in his arms. There was a slight purple tinge to his cheeks. “I am sorry to interrupt, Ch’asercuvsici, En’von’ot, but I did not --”

Olys waved him to silence. “No apologies are necessary, Lieutenant.” He gestured to the two empty seats opposite his desk. The junior Chiss moved to take one, placing the reports onto the desk. Adela moved into the other. “Let us begin.”

#the emrys legacy #adela emrys #codename: olys #lieutenant tasconu #aristocra tabarin #headcanon: chiss politics #swtor oc

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theemryslegacy · 7 years

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Adela: Opening Gambit [1/2]

Summary: Lieutenant Tasconu knows sudden interest from the head of House Nuruodo could be nothing. Or it could be something -- a very big something.

Notes: My first little foray into Chiss politics, so I’m a touch anxious about posting in the wild. But, well, nothing risked, nothing gained, right? Cheunh words once again snatched from the Coruscant Phonebook translator. For better or worse, it does, at least provide a few key words to pepper into the text. At least it’s not Minnisiat...

Seo’tasco’nuruodo -- Lieutenant Tasconu -- lowered himself into the seat behind his commanding officer’s desk and frowned. Flimsi and datachips littered the surface, along with two empty cups of what, presumably, had been caf, all of which had been in similar positions when he departed for the evening. Another late night for he and the En’von’ot, then, Tasconu thought. Such nights had always been common occurrences for his commanding officer. They had not, much to his surprise, decreased in frequency since the assignment of the former Imperial agent to their station. She shared the same dedication to duty, it seemed, as the Ch'asercuvsici -- the Aristocra. That shared dedication was perhaps, he reasoned, one of the reasons the two had discovered a deep affinity for one another… and why she was now En’von’ot.

The furrow in his brow deepened briefly. In most ways, his commanding officer was the epitome of Chiss behavior and restraint, executing his duties efficiently and effectively. He was disciplined, focussed; he maintained the proper air of authority; spoke in the appropriate riddles.

...and then there was Adela Emrys.

It started simply enough: A brief flirtation with an attractive, disciplined and loyal Imperial operative. Still only a junior lieutenant at the time, even Tasconu had to admit she was impressive -- for a Human. As tactical support to the Ch’asercuvsici, he simply… turned the other cheek for the duration of the partnership. He was sure that, once she completed her assignment and departed the icy planet, it would be the last he would see of the promising Human agent.

He was wrong, of course. The first inkling that something had changed was some eighteen months later. The Ch’asercuvsici had him make arrangements for a stay on Zeltros, a planet known for delights of a more hedonistic nature. It was not unheard of for a Chiss to enjoy such delights, but it seemed… unusual… given what Tasconu knew of his commanding officer. Following through, the junior lieutenant would make similar arrangements, as directed -- once or twice a year at first, and then, as time progressed, every few months.

Rumors circulated wildly among station personnel regarding the Aristocra’s departures. Many speculated that he was involved in a wild affair with a Zeltronian woman. Others believed he was meeting with others within his family to discuss the next political maneuver that would give them prominence. For his part, Tasconu chose not to speculate. He simply did not wish to know.

Then came the destruction of the classified Imperial data center, some eight years later. The call for assistance from Imperial Intelligence came not to his desk, but was placed directly to the Aristocra. Adela Emrys, now a senior intelligence officer, would be arriving the next morning, to be briefed and discuss operational support.

“Before she arrives, Tasconu,” Ch’asercuvsici began slowly, “there is a small matter we should discuss.”

The lieutenant regarded his commanding officer with a furrowed brow. “Yes, sir?”

“Agent Emrys is… unique.”

“Of course, sir,” Tasconu replied. “I recall our first meeting some years ago, when she was merely an agent. She made quite an impression, even then.”

The Ch’asercuvsici nodded. “She did, indeed,” he said. The corners of his eyes crinkled, a smile twitching briefly across his lips. “Perhaps more than you realize.” His expression sobered as he regarded the junior officer. “You recall my occasional respite on Zeltros?”

A chill washed over Tasconu, and he struggled to maintain a neutral expression. He was not sure he appreciated where this conversation was directed. “Of course, sir. You have another on schedule for next month.”

“We have never spoken of the reason for such leave,” the Aristocra explained. “And, while I recognize your inclination toward plausible deniability, you should know that such departures were planned to permit me to meet with Agent Emrys. Privately.”

“I… see.” Tasconu blinked, feeling the combined weight of his commanding officer’s gaze and the knowledge that he had once fought to ignore. “That is quite a long while to conduct a clandestine relationship, sir.”

“It is.”

Internally, the young officer struggled. Indulging such passions was, in high society, frowned upon. To indulge in such passion with a Human -- or a race other than Chiss -- could be grounds for renunciation by his family and banishment from the Ascendancy. And yet… the Ch’asercuvsici had taken that risk, repeatedly, for eight years. His leadership had not suffered; his duties had not been neglected. And he trusted him, both to make arrangements and now, to understand the relationship the senior officer shared with the Imperial. How, then, could he violate that trust?

Tasconu looked up at the elder Chiss. “I will reacquaint myself with her, Ch’asercuvsici,” he said, “before I make a determination… but I suspect this will not be an issue for me.”

The station commander nodded, once. “Understood, Lieutenant.” He turned to depart, only to pause in the doorframe. “And Tasconu?”

“Yes, Ch’asercuvsici?”

“You should cancel my upcoming respite. I expect she and I will… make other arrangements.”

“Yes, sir. I will take care of it immediately.”

Tasconu remembered watching as his commanding officer nodded, then disappeared down the icy corridor. He did, indeed, greet Agent Emrys the following morning; he -- and the Ch’asercuvsici -- worked closely with her over the next few months, as they attempted to track the crime organization intent on the destruction of the Imperial intelligence organization and its personnel. And, while he had been unsure of her initially, any hesitation quickly passed by the wayside. The former Imperial operative was still as disciplined, dedicated, and focussed as she had been those eight years prior.

Watching the interaction between she and the Aristocra was also enlightening. What had begun as a questionable affair seemed to have grown exponentially… to the complete surprise of both participants. The two complemented one another in a way that surprised Tasconu -- mentally, physically, and emotionally. They anticipated actions, phrases; conducted conversations without speaking a word in any language. It was a feeling he could not, even now, put into words. Human or not, she simply was his En’von’ot.

Even with her assignment as liaison officer, the two had remained discreet…at least, until recently. Visibly shaken, Agent Emrys had appeared in the commander’s quarters, a strict departure from her usual demeanor. Tasconu knew immediately that something disturbing had happened in their pursuit of the criminals. He directed her to the Aristocra’s quarters, and then turned his attention back to the task at hand. She had not emerged again until morning.

That had been some two weeks previous. Given the unsettled nature of the desk before him, however, he suspected the previous night had ended in similar fashion. He would need to pull all security footage and ensure that it was… revised… well enough to account for her departure, and readmittance this morning. While he did not mind the effort, it was something that should not become a habit.

The chirp of the holocommunicator drew him from his planning. He frowned, activating the device. He was surprised to see the glow take the familiar shape of San’tasi’nuruodo, the current Syndic for House Nuruodo. “Syndic,” he said smoothly, schooling his expression. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” Santasi said with a curt nod. “I hope all is proceeding well?”

“For the moment, we are without incident.” Tasconu organized the flimsi into one pile, and began to sort the datachips. “What is it that I can assist you with?”

“Aristocra Tabarin wishes to speak with your commanding officer,” the syndic replied.

“My apologies, Syndic, but he is currently unavailable. He and his support staff have been conferring over a series of intelligence reports that demanded immediate attention.” The lieutenant pursed his lips. “Would you care to set an appointment for our respective commanding officers to meet and address any concerns Aristocra Tabarin harbors? We will, of course, work to his schedule.”

Santasi nodded. “That is quite acceptable, Lieutenant,” he replied. “I will discuss a time with the Aristocra and contact you soon.”

“I will look forward to your communication.”

The blue light-image blinked out and Tasconu sighed. Sudden interest from the head of House Nuruodo could be nothing… or it could be something. A very big something. He pinched the bridge of his nose. His morning brief with his own aristocra was about to get interesting.

#the emrys legacy #adela emrys #codename: olys #lieutenant tasconu #swtor oc #headcanon: chiss politics

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theemryslegacy · 7 years

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Adela: Fallout [1/1]

Summary: Following an intelligence operation on Kaon, Adela must deal with the emotional fallout... and the reassertion of her Force sensitivity.

Note: Our guild storyline brought us to “Kaon Under Siege” in a different context. This was written following that op. Takes place some time following “Rude Awakening,” as the investigation continues. The Cheunh used in this story is the closest approximation I could make, based on the word parts gleaned from the Coruscant Phonebook translator, some long discussions with our resident Chiss-y Chiss expert, and no small amount of poking around the Csillan Rose site. I consider the word used here as a contraction of descriptor and noun.

Adela dismounted her speeder in silence, mind occupied as she attempted to sift through the echoes of Kaon. Raw hatred intermingled with terror, the darkness amplifying the chill of the winds sweeping across the plains. She absently drew her coat tighter around her, making her way into the relative warmth of the Ascendancy installation.

Overnight watch had already begun as she entered. Already a common fixture on the base, the few staff on station paid her little mind as she strode across the open bay, on a direct line for the durasteel panel that led to the commander’s office and quarters. She paused just to the side of the door, her body shielding the keypad. Glancing to ensure she was unobserved, she then keyed the entry code, rather than ringing the chime. The heavy door slid away. With one last glance over her shoulder, she shoved her gloves into her pockets and stepped through the portal. The door hissed closed behind her.

She found the corridor dim and empty. To be expected, she thought, at this time of night. Her sensitivity, however, told her she was not alone. Reaching out beyond her implants, she could sense both Olys and Tasconu ahead, occupied with other tasks. Unfortunately, the jumbled mess of emotions whirling through her made it impossible to distinguish between them.

A shaft of light spilled into the icy corridor, extending from the office. Adela paused and peered around the corner. Inside, she found Lieutenant Tasconu hovering behind the commander’s desk. He looked up from his task -- organizing the various sheets of flimsi on the desk -- and spotted her, then looked back down, returning to his work. She received the distinct impression he was pretending he had not seen her. “You will find him in his quarters, En’von’ot,” he said.

Adela blinked. En’von’ot, she thought. Consort. He was referring to her as --

“I will run interference for you in the morning,” he continued, his attention still focussed on his work, “and give you as much time as I can.”

She regarded him with furrowed brows. “Lieutenant --”

Tasconu paused again, looking up at her. “I know you were in the field today,” he said. “And I figure something awful must have happened for you to chance walking in like that, at this hour.” He nodded to indicate the direction of the commander’s quarters. “He will not be expecting you, but I imagine he will be glad to see you.”

Adela swallowed back the knot that rose in her throat. She could sense his understanding and his concern for not just Olys, but for her -- understanding she had not expected from another Chiss. She drew a deep breath, searching out the peace she knew she needed to find in the Force. The warmth she suddenly felt embracing her seemed to provide that peace, soothing the rough edges and bolstering her strength. “Thank you, Lieutenant,” she finally managed.

The younger Chiss nodded. The hint of a kind smile lit his features. “Doing my duty, En’von’ot,” he replied. He then nodded once, returning to his work. “I will speak with you again in the morning.”

She stood, motionless for a moment, watching the crown of his head as he moved a stack of datapads, once again pretending she was not there. Taking the hint, Adela continued down the corridor to the commander’s quarters.

The commander himself stood just to the right of the bed, attention focussed on a datapad. He had already changed into his sleep wear: A long, loose shirt of a lightweight weave that he would remove before going to bed, and a pair of relaxed pants, constructed of the same material. She was at once struck by how very glad she was to see him; to know he was alive; and just how very much she had come to care for him.

He raised his red eyes to meet hers. Surprise registered across his features, followed immediately by concern. “Beloved,” he said. “Are you all right?”

Adela drew a deep breath, steadying herself. Stepping into the room, she turned and keyed the door closed before turning back to face him. “No, I--I’m really not,” she replied, shaking her head. She began closing the distance between them. “I...As much time as I have spent in the field, I never…”

Olys met her halfway, his hands coming to rest on her hips as they regarded one another. The furrow in his brow deepened. “A field operation?”

“Tion Hegemony,” the agent said. Her own hands came to rest against his upper arms. As a Chiss, his body temperature was well below that of the average human. Still, she could feel warmth radiating through the lightweight garments, a sharp contrast to the icy surroundings. She savored the familiar lukewarm touch, the solid feel of him, reassuring and welcoming. “Before we completed tracing the freighters transporting the bioweapons, we received a comm from our allies in the Hegemony. It seems our friends already paid Kaon a visit.”

She grimaced. “They were overrun by rakghouls -- smart ones. Ones that retained at least some of their education, their training,” she continued. Recalling the events brought the echoes of rage to the surface, however, and she paused, closing her eyes. Lessons almost forgotten swirled through her mind, encouraging her as she struggled against the darkness. “And yet, they were almost entirely consumed by base instinct and rage.

“Nothing I have encountered in the field has unsettled me this much…”

Opening her eyes, she looked to Olys. He studied her with an expression she could not name, a spike of anxiety sweeping through him. When he spoke, it was a statement and not a question: “You felt their anger.”

“I did, yes.” Adela averted her eyes from his, fingertips tracing the seamline of his shoulder as she struggled to find her words. As a good intelligence officer, she knew he had read her dossier even before they first met. Now she had to tell him what the personnel file didn’t say.

“I am...somewhat sensitive. I even trained, as a child, under my aunt,” she admitted at length. “When she was killed, I chose a different path -- that path led to CorSec and, ultimately, Imperial Intelligence.” She flattened her hand against his shoulder, finally looking him in the eye again. “I chose to have implants installed, to hide my sensitivity from the Empire. At the time, it was enough.”

Despite her admission, Olys made no move to step away. If anything, the brief tension she felt seemed to dissipate -- a curious reaction for a Chiss, Adela thought, given their usual suspicions toward Force wielders. Then again, she reasoned, they tolerated Jedi much easier than Sith, due to the disciplined nature of Jedi training. “But it no longer is?”

Adela shook her head. “Something is… different,” she replied. “I find myself relying more and more on my childhood lessons, and less on the implants. For this mission, it all felt so… strong; dark. Like a weight on my shoulders -- heavier, more oppressive, the farther we progressed. The anger and the screaming…”

She shuddered. As first an investigator, then an operative, a clear head was essential. She prided herself on her ability to think quickly on her feet, reacting to situations as they arose, whether the challenge be mental or physical. Infection by this particular strain would have kept such processes intact… while engulfing the identity she had struggled to regain: Her sister, her father, Olys -- lost to her forever, as she slipped into the raw anger and hunger of the rakghoul. The possibility of that loss haunted her throughout the mission, and now lingered.

“Had it not been for the implants,” she continued, looking up at him, “I might not have returned altogether sane.”

Olys’ eyes were troubled, his emotions complicated as he looked down at her. She was, however, gratified to sense his affection and respect for her seemed undiminished. Hesitating only a moment, he slipped his arms around her and drew her to him. She allowed her eyes to close as her head came to rest against his chest, her ear inches from his heart. There, she concentrated on the steady beat, on the whisper of his breath through his lungs. She felt the rumble of his voice when he finally spoke. “You are here now, beloved, and you are safe,” he murmured.

“We returned for the debrief, and I…” She sighed, struggling to confess aloud the thoughts occupying her mind. She knew how cliche they sounded, how vulnerable the thought of such a confession made her feel. And yet, she knew she had to take the risk. “I realized that, as difficult as this is -- as dangerous as this is -- the thought of not being myself -- of being without you, for any reason, was unacceptable.”

Drawing back, she looked up at him, hands trailing down his biceps to rest in the crook of his elbows. “You have told me -- more than once -- that, despite it all, you consider me your mate and your equal,” she continued. “I… I’ve never vowed the same.”

Olys shook his head. “I have known for a long while how you feel, beloved. There is no need --”

“You deserve to know -- to hear from me that you are my mate, my equal, and my partner; my husband,” she said, placing a finger against his lips. A slight smile tugged at her lips as she recalled that he had done the same when he had told her the same. “I cannot, in public, be your wife or consort, Ch'asercuvsici --”

Reaching up, Olys wrapped his hand around hers, pulling it away from his lips and resting their joined hands against his chest. He looked her in the eye. His voice was low, tone intimate as he spoke: “But in addition to all of that, I...” he said slowly. He paused a moment, considering his words. “If these passing weeks together have taught me anything, it is that you are my wife, my en’von’ot -- whether or not I can publicly acknowledge it.”

Shaking his head, he glanced briefly to their hands, then back to her. “Our lives are fraught with danger, and I know that you, especially, face it frequently -- and directly. I will always fear for your safety, beloved.” He swallowed. “And I will be eternally grateful each time you return to me.”

“And I will do everything in my power to do so.” Adela offered a taut but genuine smile, her heart lifted by sharing her burdens. Remembering her arrival, however, her expression shifted to one of confusion. “Wait -- you didn’t discuss my... status… with Tasconu, did you?”

“Not at all,” Olys said. His features mirrored hers. “Why do you ask?”

“He addressed me as ‘En’von’ot,’ even as he was directing me to you,” the silver-haired agent replied.

Olys gave a chuckle. “He is very observant and more than aware of your part in my life,” he said. “And it is, after all, an insult should he not address you properly.”

“Chiss and forms of address,” she commented with a sigh. She allowed her gaze to drift over his features, the smile shifting to something much more impish. “And how, exactly, should the Ch'asercuvsici address his en’von’ot?”

An answering, wicked grin curled his lips. “I was beginning to think you would never ask.”

It was the last intelligible comment between them for some time.

#the emrys legacy #adela emrys #codename: olys #swtor oc #imperial agent #utterly and completely sappy #not sure if I'm sorry or not #adela x olys

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theemryslegacy · 7 years

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Adela: Duty and Devotion [1/1]

Summary: Adela and Olys take a moment to discuss the nature of duty.

Notes: In working on posting more of Adela’s story, I realized I missed this one. Takes place following “Missing Pieces,” Parts 1 & 2.

Sighing, Adela leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. She could feel the concerned, red-eyed gaze of her companion focus on her as she did so. “Are you feeling unwell?” the deep, accented voice asked.

Opening her eyes, she noted his furrowed brow and drawn mouth. “I am fine,” she assured him with a wry grin. “One of the drawbacks to being a task-oriented person: I frequently forget that my puny human brain needs a break once in awhile -- even if the task is incomplete.” She shook her head. “And it is especially needed when reviewing recon images of icy plains. It all begins to blur a bit.”

His expression lightened, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. He then directed his gaze toward the open hatch, where his two guards stood beyond the frame. Their attention was, Adela noted, piqued by the sudden spark of conversation within the office, physically evident as they both turned their heads to a slight angle, hoping to catch a snippet. This movement was not lost on her companion. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, and she sensed his struggle to choose his words carefully. “I suspect there is nothing ‘puny’ about your human brain… Agent,” he replied.

“Thank you… sir,” she replied. She gave him a flicker of a smile, allowing herself to consider him with a rare show of open affection. Pushing herself to her feet, she readjusted her duster over her shoulders and crossed the office to a small table where snacks and drinks had been placed. She was reaching for the thermal container of caf when she heard the door hiss closed. A spike of concern lanced through her, radiating off of him.

Adela furrowed her brow as she turned. “Olys…”

“I must confess that my attention has been divided,” the Chiss began slowly. “This quiet -- and the information we shared -- has provided me the means and opportunity to consider the current situation.”

He pursed his lips for a moment before continuing. “It is highly concerning that someone would make an attempt on Keeper, aboard his own ship -- a brash move, indicating the involvement of individuals capable of dangerous unpredictability. To learn that such threat now expands to the entire organization…” The furrow in his brow deepened and he gestured with his gloved hands. “I am… greatly concerned for your safety, beloved. I thought, perhaps, until the responsible party or parties are captured, you might remain here.”

Adela blinked. He was worried -- she could tell now that the spike she felt only skimmed the surface, the depth of his concern buried deep beneath his Chiss reserve. She regarded him a long moment before reaching out and placing her hand against his cheek. “I would like nothing more than to remain here, by your side,” she replied quietly. “I know that I would be safe -- safer than even headquarters.”

“I sense a conjunction…”

“But,” she continued, lips twitching, “the answers I need are out there -- either among the ice and snow, or on planets beyond. I cannot sit idly by while myself, my colleagues, and friends are at risk.”

Olys stepped closer, his hands coming to rest on her hips and encouraging her closer. His wide mouth curved into a soft smile as her hands came to rest against his chest. “I expected no less,” he said. “I would, however, have been remiss in both my duty and my devotion if I did not offer.”

Her expression mirrored his as she closed the gap between them. “I do understand,” she said. “Were our situations reversed, I would offer the same to you.” She traced the gold trim of his tunic with her fingertips. “Might I suggest an alternative?”

“Of course, beloved.”

“What if I… remain here, working with you and your personnel to track these nefarious individuals, and using this location for my base of operations?” She looked up to him, sensing his affection and interest. “You could even accompany me on any jaunts offworld, if you wished … though, fearing for your safety -- physical and political, I would prefer if you dispatched Dev or one of your other trusted officers. Combined with our current work habits, your accompanying me could cause quite a stir.”

Olys shook his head. “Duty is my utmost concern. Just as I have a duty to assist your organization in tracking these ch'itvosihe'oti… these cowards, I also have a duty to protect you.”

Adela swallowed back the knot she felt rise in her throat, rush of emotions swirling within. “My love, I am not your wife. If you were to --”

“Adela.” He pressed an index finger to her lips, shaking his head. “I may not be able to declare you my consort, but you are my mate; my partner; my equal. I had thought that you understood this: If you need me, I will be there -- not Dev, and not Lieutenant Tasconu,” he said, referring to his trusted tactical officer. He then reached up and tucked the ever-present loose tendril of silver hair behind her ear before bringing his hand to rest against her cheek. “We will find these scoundrels -- together.”

She sighed, regarding him with a rueful smile. “Then, as much as I am enjoying this break, perhaps we should open the door and return our attention to our work?”

The broad-chested Chiss drew her into his embrace and she revelled in the comfort radiating from him. Adela felt his chest rumble as he spoke. “We shall,” he said, “once you prepare your cup of caf.”

Drawing back, the agent smiled up at him. “Perhaps, with a touch of emotional recharge and some caf, something else will leap out at me from all those images of snow and ice.”

Olys allowed a wry grin. “Perhaps.” He released her slowly. Within a few moments, they settled back into their places at his desk, the door open, and her cup of caf steaming just to her right.

#the emrys legacy #adela emrys #codename: olys #swtor oc #imperial agent

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theemryslegacy · 7 years

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Adela: Rude Awakening [1/1]

Summary: Olys continues his recovery after meeting his cousin while Adela discovers just how close she came to losing him.

Note: Follows on “Hangover,” posted some three months ago now.

She was in the conference room, scrolling through datapads full of reports when Olys appeared in the doorway. Clad only in his undergarments, his hair was askew, sticking out at odd angles along his usual part, while other sections were matted against his skull. Beneath weary eyes, she could also note more than a little puffiness, the delicate skin bagged slightly with fatigue. His voice was a deep, gravelly rumble when he spoke. “Good morning,” he managed.

Adela lowered her datapad. “Good evening,” she replied. She reached for the nearby carafe, pouring a glass of water, then handed it to him. “I was beginning to worry.”

The Chiss crossed to join her, taking the water and slowly lowering himself into the chair beside her. He sipped the water cautiously, his brow furrowed. “Dare I ask how long I was unconscious?”

“Almost a full twenty-four hours,” the silver-haired agent answered. “Tasconu commed in a panic, concerned when you did not return from the ship. I told him that we were reviewing reports until the wee hours and that you had opted to remain on board for the night.” She frowned. “Not likely to help with his suspicions, but it was closest to the truth without telling him you were four sheets to the wind.”

Olys nodded. “It will not allay suspicions, no, but Tasconu has been my tactical officer for a long while. He can be trusted.”

“Noted.” A momentary silence fell between them as Adela leaned back in her chair, watching as her companion took another careful drink. She could sense the ache echoing through his head, the low-level nausea that still roiled in his stomach. “So what do we tell him? You are still not in any condition to return to station.”

“No, and I rather expect that to be the case for at least another day, if not two,” he replied. “My system is attempting to process the liquor… but the liquor seems to have been slightly toxic for Chiss digestion.”

A chill swept down her spine. “Toxic?” she echoed. “You mean to say that your body is reacting as though it was poisoned?”

The Chiss nodded. “Exactly that.”

Shifting forward in her chair, Adela placed her hand over his forearm. “Olys, I don’t --”

“It really is all right, beloved,” he said. He brought one hand to rest over hers. “I will recover.”

“If you had accepted any more from her, and I left you to ‘sleep it off’ --” The agent cut herself off as realization struck her. “Force, Olys, you could have died.”

Olys shook his head and placed his glass of water to the side. He then took both her hands in his own, bright, red eyed-gaze holding hers. “I realize we deal frequently in ‘what if’ -- it is the very nature of our analytical work,” he said. “But I am here; I am awake; and I will be fine, I promise you.” He offered a gentle smile. “And thank you for tending to me.”

“It is simply what you do when you care about someone,” Adela said. Their intertwined hands seemed to enhance her ability to sense him as waves of sincerity, gratitude, and very deep affection radiated from him. She wanted nothing more than to acknowledge that, crawl back into bed with him, and ignore the rest of the galaxy -- if just for a little while. “I only wish there were more I could do -- alleviate the hangover you undoubtedly have right now.”

Releasing one hand, Olys reached up and tucked a stray curl of silver behind her ear. “Time and care will allow me to heal,” he said. He dragged a hooked index finger across her cheekbone, his palm coming to rest against the cheek. “Though your company will ease the burden considerably.”

Adela chuckled despite herself. “Only if you shower first… and call Tasconu when you look a bit more like yourself.”

“I can accept these terms,” Olys replied, the corners of his lips twitching slightly into a wry grin. “Lieutenant Tasconu will be highly concerned over my continued absence… and we will need his assistance to provide a plausible cover.”

The agent gave her own smirk. “Yes, unlike my illustrious commanding officer, a three-day bender with alcohol and women does not constitute an excused absence from a Chiss facility.” She smoothed a hand over a spike of blue hair. She then rose, tugging on the hand she still held. “Come on…While I know you are not well enough anything adventurous, I can at least wash your back for you.”

Olys stood, the wry grin sliding decidedly lopsided as he fell into step behind her. “Hardly a strong bargaining tactic, Agent.”

“I might be a touch biased toward the other party… sir.” Adela tossed an impish glance over her shoulder. She was still grinning when they disappeared into the shower suite.

#the emrys legacy #adela emrys #codename: olys #star wars oc #imperial agent #headcanon about blueleaf liquor

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andveryginger · 5 years

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29 and 30 for Adela x Saganu!

Here ya go, Nonny! Thanks for asking!

29. one headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart

That, as it stands, Saganu would have to be exiled to be with Adela. During “Traitor Among the Chiss,” the headcanon is that, while her sister Annya is Commander of the Alliance, Adela handled the operation on Copero. As a result, she is known by the Ascendancy as an Alliance operative, and thus publicly considered a responsible party in the breach of sovereignty, meddling in Ascendancy affairs. The Ruling Houses and Council both know that what she did had to happen, but they cannot publicly condone the actions she took. Thus, were the couple to come forward now, Saganu would likely be exiled for an improper relationship with an outsider -- especially such an ‘infamous’ one.The truly heartbreaking part of this is that he is more than willing to take exile to be with her.

30. one headcanon about this OTP that mends it

Saganu’s initial meeting with Adela’s father, Hamilton, was an awkward one. He is, after all, from a race of beings who are in an alliance with the Empire, and Hamilton has been a part of the Corellian resistance for as long as the girls can remember. But as they spent a bit more time together during the all-too-short visits, the two men have come to respect one another, and understand that their concerns are both focussed around their love for Adela. Hamilton has since taken “Ollie” under his wing, showing him the ropes. He recognizes, too, that exile may be a very real possibility, and he wants to ensure the Chiss can succeed as a Corellian.

#character memes #character asks #oc headcanons #swtor #adela x saganu #swtor oc: adela emrys #aristocra saganu #Anonymous

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andveryginger · 5 years

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Headcanon: Chiss Emoting, Conversational Layers, and Interactions

So I just reblogged this post by @codariidoescrimes, discussing some basic ideas about Chiss emotions, reactions, conversational layers, and other interactions. I didn’t want to toss my own stuff on there, to muddy up the original post, but I thought I might expound upon a few things.

What follows is strictly my conjecture, drawn from lots of reading, political study, and inference from a lot of interaction. For those of you who RP Ascendancy-born Chiss, especially in the SWTOR-era, the Csillan Rose community is a great asset, even if you don’t actively participate in their structures and arcs. They -- and a very good friend -- helped me get started writing Chiss, and it’s kinda (ahem) snowballed from there.

In short, I agree almost wholeheartedly with the previous post: I think, much like Vulcans, Ascendancy-born and raised Chiss are beings of intense emotion that -- unlike Vulcans -- they acknowledge, but keep tightly reined. Decisions are made not on emotional reaction, but as logically as possible, based on the hierarchy they serve: Does the action benefit the Ascendancy? Their House? Their family? Any action taken that is not seen to be in keeping with their duty to any of the above is suspect, and can subject them to censure at best, and exile at worst. Action taken for personal reasons? ::gasp:: Scandalous!

Living politics as they do, it’s thus very rare for an Ascendancy Chiss to say exactly what they mean. Any stray word or movement could be used by a political adversary to discredit them, their House, or their family. Thus, they rely heavily on inference, using diction, tone, and body language to convey what they can’t say directly.

This means that there is also a heavy reliance on etiquette and protocol. In a public conversation, they are addressed by rank. To use common or familiar names in such a setting is an insult of the highest order; the familiar or core names are saved for private conversations with family, merit adoptives, and very close friends.

In regard to interactions with non-Chiss, Ascendancy Chiss do consider themselves superior to just about every known species. Some are better than others at hiding this. One means of asserting their dominance is the use of their native language, Cheunh, in the presence of non-Chiss. It is a difficult language, almost impossible to be spoken by an outsider. Speaking their native tongue in the presence of said outsiders, however, is considered rude and thus done only when one wishes to make a point. Chiss are then more likely to revert to a trade language such as Minnisiat or Basic, to converse with those they like, respect, or must interact with in some official capacity.

I also suspect that, when socialized with outsiders regularly, Ascendancy Chiss learn to read others and, when the situation calls for it, convey their point in an outside manner. Depending on the Chiss, this can prove more or less uncomfortable for them. It will largely depend on their own upbringing and the perspectives of their elders and Aristocra.

The converse is also likely to be true of outsiders who spend a good deal of time around Ascendancy Chiss: They eventually learn to read between the lines themselves, noting the tone, word choice, body language, and other social cues. Raina Temple is a prime example of this, going so far as to be functional and welcome in the Defense Force intelligence service.

When dealing with Empire- or Republic-born Chiss, however, all of the above can get tossed out the window.

...and I could go on, but I’ll put on the brakes here. =D

Needless to say, I love writing the Chiss. There is an inherent tension in them, in their society that makes them incredibly interesting to explore. It’s one of many reasons that I really hope the SWTOR team bring Zahn back to work with the seeds they planted in “Traitor Among the Chiss.” Despite my love, however, the double-talk and incessant politicking can make them exhausting to write. =D

#ginger writes swtor fic #chiss #chiss headcanon #see also:#aristocra saganu #captain yudrass #saganu for LI companion 2019 #raina temple #swtor oc: adela emrys

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keldae · 5 years

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Drastic Measures (Chapter Twenty-Six)

Even with Corellia effectively under siege, the Coronet spaceport was remained busy: The sight of civilians, pilots, and CorSec personnel hurrying about on their business was not uncommon. Since the attack on the Green Jedi Enclave, the comings and goings of the Green Jedi were a slightly more unusual sight, considering how few members of the Order survived. Few left the Enclave now, and even fewer left Corellia, but departure wasn’t unheard of.

It didn’t stop Annya Emrys, twin lightsabers swaying against green-clad hips, from feeling as though she rather stood out as she hurried to a private hangar in the spaceport. Owned by her father, Hamilton, it had served to funnel numerous members of the resistance to and from Corellia. One might never guess that the hangar itself was technically owned by CorLion, LTD., the Emrys family logistics firm. Two ships currently waited within the hangar — it a tight fit, but hardly the first time they had made efficient use of the space.

She finally emerged from the lift to see Balance of Justice emblazoned on the hull of the Defender-class corvette, all but towering over a small, two-person shuttle. A small gathering of personnel stood between the ships. She made her way toward them as the tallest among them saw her first and raised a hand in greeting. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it.”

“Uncle Connall wanted to talk at me for the last hour and express his displeasure with this entire idea.” Annya rolled her eyes as she finally came to a halt beside Jonas.

“He’s really against you leaving Corellia, is he?” Jonas asked with a slight smirk.

“Half that, and half something about Imperial-spawned bastards not being worth time and effort, even if the other half of them is Corellian.” The redhead sighed and shook her head. “I’m making it back after this, if only to prove that Green Jedi who leave the system don’t always wind up dead or defected like dear cousin Airna.”

“Oh, I don’t count?” Jakar Forseti snorted. “If I didn’t know the old man, I would be offended. Essi isn’t overly enthused about this idea either, but she’s worried about Xaja too. She’d be coming along if the girls didn’t need care.”

“The struggles of half-Tythonian Jedi,” Jonas deadpanned. “You’re the last one we’re waiting for. Cole’s staying to keep a haven open for us and to keep CorSec running. Risha’s had to run back to Dubrillion for some sort of a gong show there. The rest of us are heading to Alderaan.”

“And no word yet about your cousin or Agent Shan, from official channels or otherwise,” Bey’wan Aygo finished. “I can’t get hold of Corso on the comms systems, and according to Balkar, the SIS has no news.”

Annya frowned, turning her focus to the Force. She had trained with Xaja Taerich on Tython, years before the two discovered they were second cousins. She considered herself reasonably familiar with the petite Jedi’s Force-signature, but when she reached out, she felt nothing. Of course, if she was still alive, Xaja was likely in the Dantooine system, far distant from Corellia. “If she’s still alive,” she finally said, “I can’t feel her.”

“Neither can I, and I’ve known her for over a decade,” Jakar murmured. “She’d better still be alive when we find her, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

“As in hunting down the Zaks who may or may not have done them in, or dragging her spirit back to the realm of the living for an ass-kicking?” Jonas asked with a grin.

“Pick one.” Jakar shook his head as he started walking to his ship. “Or both. Are you sure you don’t just want to ride along in my ship, Agent Balkar? I have plenty of space available.”

“Thanks, but I’ll need my shuttle. The Director’s promising to send me all over the damned galaxy in the next few weeks.” Jonas flicked a lazy salute at the Barsen’thor. “My next stop is Alderaan, same as you, so I’ll just follow you there.”

“I’ll send you the rendezvous coordinates when you arrive in the system,” Jakar nodded. “May there be good news waiting for us there.”

“Preferably tangible good news -- like Master Taerich or Agent Shan themselves being there,” Bey’wan muttered as he turned to follow Jakar to the Balance. Annya could hear the engines already powering up as the Jedi and the Admiral walked up the ramp into the ship. Looking up with a squint, she could just see Jakar’s Trandoshan companion in the cockpit of the ship.

Annya started to take a step toward Jakar’s ship before she felt a hand cradle her elbow. “Y’know,” Jonas drawled, a smirk pulling at his lips, “there’s more than enough space on my shuttle if you didn’t want to share breathing space with one of the Council.”

Despite her worry for her cousin, the redhead grinned and slipped an arm around Jonas’ waist as they walked toward his shuttle. His came to rest over her shoulders. “You’re just saying that so you don’t get lonely in transit.”

“Me? Ulterior motives? Never. I’m rather offended, Master Emrys.” The SIS operative couldn’t help the grin that curled across his lips.

The Green Jedi shook her head, her grin a suitable echo of his. “Shut up, Balkar.”

Aside from Thunder’s leadership, the Resistance had learned that mobility was arguably their most valuable asset: sitting down and getting comfortable was never going to be an option for them while the war waged on and Zakuul’s banner flew over the galaxy. Still, Sorand was impressed with how quickly the Tatooine cell had managed to pack up what they could, and wipe or destroy what they couldn’t. He supposed it helped that a solid three-quarters of the cell was comprised of Mandalorians, who were more accustomed to bas’lan shev’la than others. Add Lana Beniko, former head of Sith Intelligence herself, as the taskmaster overseeing the evacuation, and things happened quickly.

He drew to a halt beside the aforementioned Sith as she looked up from a datapad. “We’re proceeding on schedule,” she informed him. “The first shuttles are departing now, and the last of us should be gone within two hours.”

“Good. The sooner we’re gone, the better.” Sorand looked up at the cave roof, as though he could see the Star Fortress construction and the two freighters flying around it. “Any updates from Corey and Korin?”

“Rudimentary shields are in place — the Star Fortresses rely heavily on the ground bunkers for stronger deflection. The station’s not equipped for life support systems yet, but it seems to be habitable for droids. Weapons systems are online, so they’re attempting to keep the Skytroopers and droids distracted enough so our evacuation can proceed.” Lana frowned down at the datapad. “Tee-Seven transmitted back something about a star in the centre of the fortress as well.”

The dark-haired Sith frowned in confusion. “A star? Inside the fortress? That can’t be right.”

“He’s insistent. And with your brother and Corey too busy trying to keep themselves from getting shot, they can’t exactly clarify what he means.”

“Hmm. We’ll debrief them when we’re all away from here.” Sorand looked back down at Lana, feeling nervous worry clench around his heart. “Any word from Dantooine?”

“Nothing.” The look Lana exchanged with Sorand reflected her own fear of what the end result of that attack had been. “No further word from Riggs, and no reports of survivors from other cells or independent assets.”

“It’s still early,” Sorand murmured, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the mostly-empty cave in front of him. “They could have escaped and still be running.”

“It’s possible.” Lana reached over, placing her hand on his forearm. She offered a comforting squeeze. “There is one glimmer of hope, however: Zakuul has made no statement regarding elimination of a resistance cell, nor capture or demise of either your sister or Theron. Arcann would be gloating to the entire galaxy, had he apprehended them.”

Sorand slowly nodded. Lana did have a point — Arcann was enough of an egomaniac that he wouldn’t have been able to stay quiet about his triumph over the ‘assassin’ and ‘terrorist.’ Unless they’re in transit to Zakuul, or the Empire or the Republic got there first. Wait, the Republic wouldn’t have attacked them like that, not with so many Jedi there… would they? “I still need confirmation, one way or another,” he said.

“You’re not planning on going there yourself, are you?” Lana’s eyes widened. “You’re as valuable a target as they are!”

“I’m aware.” Sorand sighed and uncrossed his arms, running his hand over the scruffy beard he’d let grow in. It would help disguise his identity a little bit, he thought. Besides, the look was rather growing on him, and Shara seemed to like it. “If we’ve heard nothing by the time we’re on Alderaan, I’m sending someone out to investigate. Right now I need all hands to get this cell moved out quickly.”

Lana nodded, then glanced down at her datapad as a small ping came through. “The second set of shuttles is away. We had best get to the Shereshoy and be ready to leave, my lord.”

“Lana…”

“Apologies. Changing four years’ worth of ingrained habit is difficult, Sorand.” Lana shot the taller Sith a small, tight smile. “Come.”

Nar Shaddaa never slept, and neither did the security systems of the Zakuulan bunker. Fully staffed, Knights and Skytroopers took shifts to guard the site and the control panels for the shields of the orbiting Star Fortress. They believed each potential vulnerability had been secured. But, in their arrogance, there was one significant blind spot that they hadn’t thought to guard against.

Reanden grunted as he slowly made his way through the narrow maintenance tunnels snaking through the sector, a blueprint of the area displaying itself through one of his retinal implants. It was an area usually left to rodents, droids, and the occasional vagrant. Needless to say, it had seen better -- and cleaner -- days. He tried not to think too hard about the puddle he planted his elbow into, crawling to the next intersection. “I’m getting too old for this shit,” he grumbled into his comm.

“This was your idea, Legate,” Kothe retorted, voice crackling in the earpiece Reanden carried. “Vette could have gotten in there easier.”

“Vette’s a bright girl, but she doesn’t know how to do my job.” Reanden muttered a curse as his head bumped against a pipe that had no business being in his way like that. Gingerly rubbing the sore spot through his greying hair, he blinked at the blueprint he was following. “I’m under the bunker.”

“Good work. Standby.” The former Jedi went quiet for a moment; Reanden knew the other spy was tracing his position on sector maps. “The comms centre should be about six more metres north, then two metres west. Be careful; that’ll put you right under the shield generator.”

“I’d still like to know how they managed to get their own power station in here to run the damn thing,” Reanden mused as he resumed crawling forward. He scowled as his implants started to quietly hum, picking up the energy of the Zakuulans’ shield generator.

“Heh. You should see some of the intel your son sent back about the Tatooine fortress they got a look at. Miniature suns inside the damned things.”

“Wait, what?” That report was concerning, but Reanden couldn’t spare the time to think about the apparent interior structures of the Star Fortresses. That was something to concern himself with at another time. He had another job to do. “On second thought -- fill me in on that later.”

The old spy reached the corner in the tunnels and turned to the west, grumbling about the stupid things he did for his job and the sake of the galaxy at large. “Remind me again why I didn’t retire, Kothe?” he muttered into the comm.

“You tried once, if Marcus tells the story correctly, and lasted perhaps half a day before getting bored enough to take apart the Shadow’s comms systems and put them back together.”

“That bastard knows far too much,” Reanden groused as he pulled himself forward the last few feet, ignoring Kothe’s snort of laughter. Yes, that was a peculiar pipe running through the middle of the maintenance tunnels, only a few metres from the bottom part of the power generator. “I’m here.” He blinked to take a snapshot of the area; another series of blinks sent the image to Kothe.

“That looks about right. You find an access point?”

“Not yet — oh, there we go, you look promising.” Reanden grunted as he pulled himself around the side of the pipe and started removing an access panel. From how difficult it was to remove, he suspected it hadn’t been touched since the bunker was under construction. With a few more muttered expletives, he managed to pull the panel off, exposing a series of wires and transmitters to his cybernetically-enhanced eyes. “Jackpot.”

He smirked tightly to himself as he reached into his belt pouch and retrieved some small, barely-noticeable parts. With almost forty-odd years of experience behind him, installing his own transmitters into enemy feeds was a task he could practically do in his sleep -- even on the advanced Zakuulan tech. It still operated on the same basic premise as Republic, Empire, and Huttese technology. Thus, slipping a transmitter onto the main conduit remained a simple task. “Test.”

“Standby…” Kothe went quiet for a moment. “Receiving. Force, I’m seeing everything: comms, transmissions records, security logs, personnel records…”

“Excellent. Hang tight while I set up part two.” Installing a systems override without being detected was a fair sight more difficult, and Reanden spent several long minutes sweating in the stifling tunnels as he delicately wired in the tiny device. He swiped at his forehead with the crook of his arm. “Give that a try.”

“Let’s see…” Kothe gave a low whistle. “Looks like that took. I’m not gonna try pulling anything with Zaks awake in the bunker, but I should be able to override their system controls from here.”

“Still got it.” Reanden smirked, then gingerly extricated himself from the tangle of wires, carefully replacing the panel cover. “Can you open the surveillance feed enough for Thunder to observe? Or Marcus?”

“Marcus for sure. We’ll have to wait to get Thunder’s latest encryption key. They’ve got some people hiding them who’re damn good at their jobs.”

Damn straight, Reanden thought. He’d been the one to make Sorand’s ‘Thunder’ signal nigh untraceable, and had taught his son how to maintain the scrambling. “Works for me. I’m heading out before I melt down here.”

“Salt doesn’t melt that quickly,” the spymaster remarked.

The double agent gave a snort of laughter. “That’s another drink you owe me.”

Kothe chuckled. “Then get your sorry shebs back here. You can collect on the way out of the system.” He paused a beat. “In case I didn’t mention it, good work, Legate.”

Trying to find somewhere quiet on a Republic warship was like looking for dry land on Manaan. The small briefing room that Xaja had eventually found still wasn’t what could be called a ‘relaxing environment’, but at least it muffled most of the noises of Commander Malcom’s troops and the Jedi refugees.

“I don’t get it,” Theron quietly murmured to her as they sat on the floor of the briefing room, legs crossed and knees just touching each other's. “I wasn’t imagining it — my mother saw it too. It…”

“After all this time…” Xaja took one of Theron’s hands in both of her own, fingers slowly tracing the calluses earned over the years. “Shouldn’t this have shown up with Master Zho’s training?”

“I dunno.” Theron frowned, twisting his hand in hers to run his thumb over her knuckles. “I’m kinda wondering if it’s not the bond that’s doing this. I mean, I couldn’t feel anything before the Voss ritual.”

“But even then, you could only feel what I was channeling.” Xaja bit on her lower lip in thought. “There isn’t really any records of this ever happening before, with a Force-user bonding to a Force-blind person and making them Force-sensitive.”

“How many records are there of people walking around with Sith ghosts in their heads?”

“You might be surprised. Sorand had some stories.” Xaja shook her head at Theron’s rising eyebrows and turned her focus back to the perplexing question at hand. “You don’t think another Jedi could have pushed your blaster back to you?”

Theron shook his head. “It didn’t feel like that at all. It… I could feel it, Xaja. It was… kriff, how do I explain it…” He sighed. “… It was like I could feel the blaster, and feel something connecting me to it. I could feel it being pulled back to me.”

“And it wouldn’t have been me you sensed,” Xaja murmured. “I was trying to not die.” She hummed in thought, an idea glimmering in her mind. “Do you think you could do it again?”

“Maybe?” Theron shrugged his uninjured shoulder. “I don't know. I guess it’s worth a try?”

Xaja nodded in agreement as she looked around the briefing room. Someone had left a datapad behind on the table; she reached out a hand and, using the Force, drew it toward them, setting it down a couple of metres away. “See if you can pull that over?”

Theron frowned at the datapad, then stretched his arm out. “Kriff, how the hell did I do this last time?” he muttered. Xaja watched his forehead wrinkle as he stared down the length of his arm. She could just feel the Force shifting around him faintly, erratic ripples pressing against her senses. It was like she was watching a new Jedi Youngling trying to touch the Force for the first time— which, she supposed, wasn’t inaccurate. This particular ‘Youngling’ just happened to be thirty-three years old.

The bond prickled. “Youngling?” Theron mumbled, raising one eyebrow incredulously at Xaja.

“Sorry.” Xaja offered him a cheeky grin. “Would ‘Padawan’ feel better?”

Theron broke his focus long enough to very maturely stick his tongue out at Xaja, earning a giggle from the Jedi. “Brat,” he muttered.

“And you keep me around anyway,” Xaja retorted with a smile as she reached to take his other hand.

“Yeah, for some reason. The things I do for cute Jedi girls.” Theron grinned and shook his head before turning his focus back to his task. Xaja watched as his smirk fell away, replaced by a frown. Amber eyes narrowed as the spy honed in on the datapad, a muscle in his jaw twitching. The ripples in the Force grew more pronounced, but not quite strongly enough for any visible motions.

Xaja’s gaze darted between Theron’s frown and the datapad, anxiously watching for any movement. When Theron had told her about the blaster returning to his hand, she almost hadn’t believed it. She desperately wanted to know if it was possible for Theron to touch the Force, even if his odds were astronomically low. And he wanted it just as badly as she wanted it for him, likely even more. For all his offhanded comments about not needing the Force, she knew he was always bitter he hadn’t shared his mother’s aptitude for it.

She squeezed his hand as she turned back to look at him. Sweat was starting to bead on his forehead with the effort he was putting into his attempt to move the datapad, every muscle in his neck and jaw rigid. “Breathe, Theron,” she said quietly.

Theron wordlessly nodded, not taking his gaze from the datapad. Xaja felt a burst of growing frustration mingled with desperation along the bond. “Come on…” he whispered. She could feel the strain building within him. The hand not stretched out to the datapad squeezed Xaja’s fingers in his lap tightly.

Maybe thirty seconds later, Theron slumped in frustrated disappointment. “Must’ve been a fluke,” he muttered. “I can’t do it again.”

Xaja sighed and reached up to caress Theron’s uninjured shoulder. “I’m sorry, Theron,” she murmured, reaching out with the Force in an attempt to soothe his frustration. “Maybe the Force answered you in a high-stress situation? We’ll figure something out.”

Theron rested his forehead against Xaja’s, jaw clenching with his disappointment. He had so desperately hoped that he could repeat it, she knew — that he would be able to live up to the Jedi lineage that weighed on him. “Might have been another Jedi flying it back to me in the fight, or my mother might have unconsciously done something. It doesn’t matter.” He sighed heavily and waved his hand in a frustrated motion in the datapad’s direction. “It’s not going to happen for me—”

The datapad didn’t move much, but it did noticeably wiggle in the direction of Theron’s push.

Xaja felt her jaw drop as she felt Theron freeze. Shock flared in the Force, and it was impossible to tell who radiated it more. Slowly, she turned her stare from the datapad up to Theron’s face, as his shock mingled with the strongest sense of joy and relief that she had felt since the moment he’d broken her out of carbonite. “So, what were you saying about that being a fluke?” A grin pulled at her lips.

“That… it actually…” Theron stared down at his hand, then at the datapad in disbelief. “I…” When he looked back at Xaja, his eyes were wide, a smile starting to appear. Elation radiated from him strongly enough that Xaja could almost physically see it. “You saw that, right?!”

“Yes, I saw it!” Xaja beamed as she lifted her hands to caress Theron’s face. “Force, Theron, you—” Her words were lost as Theron abruptly pulled her in to kiss her hard, too much at a loss for words to try to verbalize his joy. She tangled her fingers in his hair as she kissed him back, pulling him closer to her in turn—

They both heard the sounds of the sublight engines kick in as Malcom’s warship dropped out of hyperspace. Xaja reluctantly pulled back from the kiss and looked upward. “Is this another one of the false-trail jumps your father’s doing to keep the Zakuulans off our necks?”

Theron blinked in the odd way that told Xaja he was interacting with his implants. “Yes,” he finally said. “We’re approaching the Rhen Var system, next detour looking like it’s going to be past Onderon.” He sighed as he loosened his grip on her. “Want to go find somewhere more comfortable to crash?”

“Consider my rubber arm twisted,” Xaja said as she got to her feet, Theron a second behind her. She watched as his gaze still went back to the datapad and a smile pulled at his mouth again. “We’ll make a Jedi out of you yet,” she said with a grin.

Theron just shook his head as though disbelieving what had just happened, even if his elation hadn’t subsided much. “I still can’t believe it,” he whispered as he reached down to take Xaja’s hand. “After all this time…”

“The Order just gave up on you too early,” Xaja laughed as they started walking out of the briefing room. “It—”

A stabbing pain lanced through her head, badly enough to make her wince and stop walking. She could sense Theron’s sudden worry, but couldn’t hear him speaking to her as another voice filled her mind, a cold, malevolent whisper. So your pet can now do parlour tricks. So very impressive. Certainly the apex of Revan’s line. Vitiate was still as cruelly sarcastic as Xaja remembered from her carbonite nightmares.

Shut up! Get out of my head! Xaja ground her teeth as she tried to wedge a mental wall between her and Vitiate, even more than what the Voss had done. The Emperor chuckled coldly before the icy, painful pressure lessened on her shields, and the waking world came back into focus.

“--ja? Xaja!” Theron was lightly shaking her shoulders, eyes wide with fear this time. “Look at me, sweetheart, please…” His hand came up to caress her cheek; Xaja could feel moisture on her skin when his thumb traced her cheekbone, and realized she had shed a tear. “The hell was that?”

Xaja had buried her face in Theron’s chest almost before she realized she was moving. Fear raced through her veins, fear of the monster inside her head and what she knew he was capable of, fear mingled with hatred. “It was him,” she whispered, and felt Theron tightly wrap his arms around her, his earlier joy dissolving into mingled anger and dread. “He’s watching, Theron. He’s… he’s trying to get in.”

A cruel laugh echoed in the depths of her mind. .

With a whoosh, ships of the Eternal Fleet dropped out of hyperspace in Tatooine’s orbit. At first glance, all seemed normal and deceptively peaceful... until one of the GEMINIs registered the two light freighters being chased around the Star Fortress skeleton by the station’s rudimentary fire. But those pilots had seen the Fleet’s arrival, and were already diving away from the warships. The Paladin overseeing the battle group scoffed derisively as the ships, likely owned by the miscreant smuggler types that ran rampant in the Core Worlds, fled from the Fleet. He watched as the ships opened fire on the freighters, then raised an eyebrow, begrudgingly impressed, as the pair vanished into hyperspace. The Core Worlds did produce some decent pilots, it seemed.

But two spacers playing chicken with the Star Fortress weren’t his concern. He sharply barked out an order to deploy ground troops to Tatooine’s surface. He would get his answers for the blatant attack on the bunker there.

He turned to march away from the bridge, but glanced back just in time to see another ship leave Tatooine’s orbit and jump to hyperspace before they had quite broken out of the atmosphere.

The bunker was destroyed. As far as the Paladin could tell from the reports of his droids sent in to analyze the ruins, the rebels had managed to overload the generator under the desert’s sandy floor. The scattered remains of demolished Skytroopers still littered the ground around the bunker, but little remained of the human inhabitants. It was likely that the barbaric rebels had left their bodies for Tatooine’s wildlife.

The Paladin snarled in rage at the disrespect of the rebels, stalking back toward his transport. “Tear the planet apart if you have to. I will have their heads!”

Two hours later, he stepped into the hidden cave labyrinth, seeing everything tinged with red. The rebels had been here — they hadn’t vacated the caves fast enough to take everything with them, and there were empty crates, blaster parts, and ration wrappers left laying about. But the few computers still around had been destroyed with a barrage of blaster shots. There were no datapads or scraps of flimsi left behind. And there was no information to be gleaned about the recent inhabitants of the caves.

He stalked through the caves, noting the different alcoves filled with abandoned items from the resistance. Some caves, and even whole open parts of the canyon floor, bore the signs of recently being occupied by starships. When he held his bare hand against the sand, he could still feel lingering warmth, despite the cooler interior of the cave. The last rebels must have fled within the hour, barely a step ahead of the Zakuulans. He glowered at the stone walls of the cave before whirling on one of his subordinates. “Get me every departure log from Anchorhead and Mos Eisley!”

“We’ve been trying, sir,” the corporal stammered. “But this part of Tatooine is considered no-man’s land. Neither the Republic base nor the Imperial has any control over who takes off from here. And if the rebels are this good, they will have been able to dodge any identification attempts —”

“I did not ask for excuses. Get me answers!” The Paladin stormed through the caves, seeking to return to his shuttle. Which resistance leaders had been here? Had Thunder themselves been present to oversee the attack? Either way, he needed answers. Emperor Arcann would accept nothing less.

#drastic measures #the plot thickens #Spydad pulls a Theron #he and Kothe are terrifyingly buddy-buddy-like #featuring the entry of Clan Emrys!#friend's OCs #Annya Emrys #Ginger and I figured out that Annya/Adela and Xaja/Korin/Sorand are second cousins #the Corellian gene pool is strong with these ones #Force-Sensitive!Theron #as he apparently has just discovered #we can't go too long without Valkemort poking his nose in where it's not wanted #grumpy Zakuulans are grumpy

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