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cinlat · 10 months

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Blood in the Breeze: Ch 18 (End Times)

Parts one and two of this series linked.

Read every chapter on FFN or Ao3.

Summary: Vaylin Attacks! Everyone else scrambles.

Chapter Word Count: 5,237 Chapter Rating: T Characters in Chapter: Fynta Wolfe, Aric Jorgan, Theron Shan, Zolah Holran, Vector, Malavai Quinn, Torian Cadara, Vette, Lana Beniko, Shillet Jorgan, Verin Ejnar/Wolfe, Tranx Vaak, Elara Dorne, Arcann, Senya, Vaylin, Balic Cormac, Darth Kozen, Master Kaeto Vaa, and special appearance by @kunoichi-ume Noara Starspark. And probably others that I've forgotten...

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

Odessen War Room 03:55 Hours

"Squads two and four to Alpha Quadrant Three. Seven and Ten, you're needed on the landing dock to clear the wreckage. And would someone shut off those fucking alarms?" Zolah didn't look up from her monitor while divvying out orders. To her right, Vector communicated with the medical staff, organizing and dispatching as needed based on the reports pouring in and security footage. Theron huddled at his desk, talking in short sentences with Fynta while she dressed in full view of the camera.

Quinn appeared at Zolah's back, brushing the tips of his fingers against the back of her arm before speaking. It was a friendly warning that he was in her blind spot. "Electrical grids for floors one and two have been damaged by orbital bombardment. I've cut power to the lower levels under construction and routed everything to the infirmaries."

"Good work." Quinn hadn't become Zolah's lover, but they'd developed a professional friendship with Vector at their center. She trusted the man and Vector's judgment. "News on the Enclave?"

"Unharmed. I've tasked units with escorting the young and injured there for safekeeping." Quinn tapped his datapad, then looked up. "It should be deep enough in the mountain to withstand the worst of the assault."

Though Zolah didn't fancy children of her own, the galaxy was nothing without a generation to leave it to. It eased something in her chest knowing that they would be protected. Then, Zolah wondered if that meant she'd gone soft. Maybe she was just getting old.

"Fynta's on her way to the surface." Theron appeared by Quinn's side. Any unease between the men vanished under the chaos of battle. "Torian is leading a group of Mandalorians into the forest, and we have pockets of Force Users taking charge of ground troops."

Zolah flicked the monitor in front of her. The crack down the middle gave it a double image, but there was no mistaking the dropships unloading hundreds of Skytroppers. She sighed and pointed at Quinn. "Make sure we have access to all armor cams. I want a full view of the battlefield."

Quinn saluted and strode off. The man never ran, he never increased his speed so far that Zolah could tell, but he had a certain walk that warned people to stand aside or fall in line. He snapped off orders, sending runners to pass along the frequency all ground troops should tune their cameras to.

Zolah watched the man, grateful for his professionalism, then her gaze fell on Theron. He forced a weak smile. "Just like old times, huh?"

There was no need to ask what Theron meant. Zolah's chuckle ended in a sigh. "We did it on Yavin IV, we'll do it here."

Odessen Commander's Quarters

"I won't be able to join you." Aric's sighed words through Fynta's helmet almost made her stumble. When she'd rushed for the door, still pulling on her armor, Aric had turned in the opposite direction. He was going to get Shillet because that was his first duty as a father. Fynta's was to protect the base.

They'd sworn to meet once Aric was sure that Shillet was safe. Something must have happened to delay him. "Everything okay, riduur?" Fynta asked, focusing her attention back to the lumbering hunk of machinery beneath her. Bolts pinged off the walker's shell, and then the self-destruct of a sky trooper underfoot teetered her to one side. The Walker dropped back onto both legs with a jarring crunch that drove a curse from Lana.

"Ran into some trouble on my way out of the base," Aric answered. His breath puffed in between words. "I'm taking up a sniping position in the ridge overlooking the landing bay. Fighting is pretty thick there."

"Understood." Fynta had known when they promised to stay together in those dark, silent hours of the night that it was a lie. Aric was a soldier. More than that, he was a protector. He would go where he was needed. That wasn't presently by Fynta's side. "Lana and I are nearly at the Gravestone. We'll link up with Sonya and Arcann, then get the Gravestone free to join the fight in the atmosphere."

Silence met Fynta's plan, then her husband sighed. "Stay safe." Aric didn't like her working with Arcann. Fynta wasn't thrilled about the prospect either. That man had single-handedly turned her life, and the lives of those she loved, into a steaming pile of osik for years. But, Fynta never turned down an advantage. Right now, the contrite emperor owed her a debt, and she planned to collect.

"There." Lana gripped the back of the pilot's seat and leaned forward. Fynta followed her finger to the slash of gold and blue against the darkness of the Gravestone's hull. She didn't say goodbye to Aric, she never did. But he knew; she'd spent all night being sure that he knew.

The walker came to a grinding halt at the bottom of the narrow ramp leading to the Gravestone's perch. The ship was too big to keep close to the base, so they'd chosen a cliffside to dock it at. That seemed like poor planning now. Skytroopers swarmed the grating, threatening to overrun the Zakuulan Knight and her spawn.

Fynta flipped the lever to open the hatch, then unbuckled herself from the driver's seat. Without a word, Lana pulled the hilt from her belt and stepped into the opening in the floor. She landed with the practiced skill of a Force user, then darted into the fray. Fynta, being a mere mortal, grabbed the slender handrails and slid down the ladder that extended to the ground.

Lana had left a trail of broken droid parts, making tracking the Sith's progress simple. Fynta took potshots while she ran, finishing the crippled skytroopers that Lana hadn't bothered with. By the time Fynta reached the top of the ramp, the three were fighting in a tight circle formation.

The display of power impressed even Fynta. Arcann was the former emperor and galaxy conqueror, and Senya a vaunted Zakuulan Knight of legend. But Lana, with her quiet smiles and subtle manipulations, shined brighter than both when she finally displayed her full capacity for destruction.

The Sith woman leapt into the air, releasing a Force wave strong enough to topple trees when she landed. The remaining enemies were flung off the edge of the cliff and into the abyss beyond. Then, she straightened, fixed her hair, and nodded. "That takes care of that. What next, Commander?"

Docking clamps groaned free, and the Gravestone lifted into the night. Koth let out a gleeful shout over the comms. "Time to see what these new upgrades can do."

Fynta watched them go, then turned to the rest of her group. "The fighting has spread across the surface. Let's fix that."

"We will fight with you until the end." Arcann's gravelly voice carried a hint of emotion that Fynta almost pitied. She was sure the man cared for his baby sister in some capacity. It remained to be seen if he could hold up his end of the bargain.

Fynta looked at Senya, the real concern when it came to Vaylin. The woman had already betrayed them once by saving Arcann instead of letting him face justice. So far, it had worked in their favor. Fynta doubted they would be so lucky with Vaylin. "You saw what Valkorion did to your daughter?"

Senya winced. Fynta brought up the familial link to gauge the woman's reaction. The older woman didn't hide how difficult this was. With a dejected sigh, Senya met Fynta's gaze. "Valkorion destroyed what was left of my daughter long ago." The dead emperor chuckled in the back of Fynta's mind but otherwise stayed silent. He was enjoying this family drama.

Pulling her shoulders straight, Senya looked Fynta in the eyes. "Vaylin must be stopped."

"You need to draw her out," Arcann suggested, switching the military commander he'd once been. "Bring her to the surface."

Theron's voice cut through Fynta's helmet comm. "Sana-Rae just flanked the enemy, but she could use some more firepower."

Fynta nodded to Lana. The woman hesitated only a moment, her gaze flickering between Senya and Arcann, before darting down the bridge leading deeper into the wild. Her comm chirped again, and Torian's voice echoed through her helmet. "We're getting hammered over here, could use another vod."

Fynta checked Torian's position in the feed that Zolah had linked to her helmet. He was near the front lines. That didn't surprise her. "On the way."

As Fynta turned, Arcann joined her. She spared him a glance, and the man simply shook his head. "You will not face her alone." Fynta almost ordered him to stay, then decided against it. Her gut warned that she would need these two before the end.

Odessen Command Center Force Enclave

Cormac had three children clinging to him, and none of them were his son. Instead, Tayl stood by Shillet, who had started a game of jacks with a few of the tween kids. The younger ones looked on, learning from the mistakes of their elders. Meanwhile, the older kids, the ones who stood on the cusp of adulthood, paced with the relentless stride of a caged manka cat. Most were the Mandalorians that Verin had brought along, so it wasn't a surprise that they itched for battle.

Twice, Cormac had broken up a group of teens who had their heads together, casting keen glances at the exits. He had his eye on Tranx's girl at the moment. Zula barely reached Cormac's elbow, but she had the makings of a leader, unfortunately, it was the young and dumb sort, at the moment.

"Shhh, it's alright." Noara rocked a whimpering toddler, bouncing the boy on her hip. He curled closer when the thumps from above scattered dirt from the Enclave ceiling. Sana-Rae had requested the space be reinforced, but left as natural as possible to help the Force users meditate. It was a beautiful place with the rugged appeal of a long-forgotten cavern. It also gave the impression of instability when bits of the roof broke away and landed among the frightened children.

Then, there was Tayl. Cormac couldn't believe how big the boy had gotten. How much he didn't cling to Elara when she ran out the door with her medical bag. The resignation in those big, grey eyes when he took Cormac's hand for the trip down to the shelter. That was far more worrying than the cries and occasional screams of his peers.

Tayl's entire life had been war. Even when he and Shillet went to the best schools, they'd fought against their parents' reputations and struggled under the weight of those shadows. To Tayl, this wasn't the potential end of their brief moment of happiness, but the simple truth of life. He didn't cry, because all of his tears were gone.

The same could be said for Shillet. She remembered bits of her life before Havoc found her on that wrecked mudball of a planet. She'd won and lost so many battles that now all the girl did was survive. They might all perish in Vaylin's assault, and that was fine because it had always been a possibility.

"Are we missing some?" Noara stood on her toes, scanning the room. "I swear there were—oh no."

Cormac saw it at the same time. The Mandalorian teens were gone. He'd looked away for a second to consider his failure as a father and fucked it up again. "I'll find them."

Noara helped Cormac peel the skinny arms and legs from his body, only for them to latch onto her. She must have been using the Force to prop them all up because there was no way that tiny woman could support all of their weight. He made a placating motion at the Jedi as he backed through the throng of kids. "I'll bring them back."

The last thing Cormac saw as he snatched his rifle from beside the door was the resignation in his son's eyes.

Odessen External Docking Site Alpha

"We need more light," the medic to Elara's right complained. He was right, but they couldn't risk it. Not so close to the front lines.

"Night vision will have to do." The chrono in Elara's helmet told her that less than thirty minutes had passed since the first blaring siren, yet their triage had outgrown the medical tents.

Yuun carried the tail end of a stretcher, having volunteered to leave the confines of the base's intelligence command to aid his friend. They stopped beside Elara so that she could examine the boy. He was Mandalorian, barely older than the group that Verin had brought to Odessen. Her stomach churned at the thought that this could have been one of the children from Torian's clan. Verin's son.

Shaking those dark thoughts away, Elara scanned him and was relieved to find only a shattered foot. He'd lose it more than likely, but that could be replaced. "This one isn't critical, mark him blue and have the medics there administer a sedative. His fight is done."

Yuun tipped his head, then looked up at the sky. Flashes of light in the upper atmosphere, weapons fire between ships, looked like lightning in the clouds. "Many have fallen," her old friend clicked. "But, the way remains clear."

"Of course." Elara pulled her attention back to the surface, to the people who needed aid. Yuun was right. There was work to do on the surface.

The pair staggered towards the medical tents for the severely wounded but not fatal. Eara felt a familiar presence at her back and turned to find Malavai Quinn staring at the sky. She didn't know how to feel about the man. He'd made his opinion of deserters known from the beginning, labeling himself as one of the few people in the galaxy that her husband wouldn't try to befriend.

"Something isn't right." A line appeared between Quinn's brows. Elara looked up and saw the same thing he did. The lightning had stopped, and the clouds above the base began to boil.

Before Elara could register the danger, Quinn cursed and spun towards the captivated crowds. "Get the wounded inside, now!"

The first bolt struck the ground half a klick away. Bright light blinded Elara, she felt a bone-rattling tremor in the ground, then sound and pressure tossed dirt into her faceplate. Instinct kicked in, and Elara wrapped herself around Quinn, the closest unarmoured being. She'd barely recovered when another round struck further away.

"Orbital bombardment," Quinn stated from beneath Elara. He seemed unfazed that they were half buried in loose dirt with the weight of her armor bearing down on him. He wiped grit from his face and squinted into the sky. Had their lives taken different paths, Elara could have respected this man.

Elara pushed herself off Quinn and stood, she needed to pick a direction and move before more damage could be done. To her surprise, Quinn grabbed her arm. When Elara looked back, his face was open and earnest. "I have medical training. Put me to use."

"Get the wounded closest to the base inside and begin triaging any fresh injuries." Malavai nodded and released Elara. She had a direction now. He could handle the medical tents. Elara needed to get into the field. She turned and chose people at random, three Mandalorians and one Imperial soldier. Then, she took the medical kits off the nearest orderlies. "Men, we have comrades to rescue."

Odessen Skytrooper Landing Position Beta

Verin lifted Cinlat's old blasters and felt her soul in the kick of each shot. She'd have enjoyed this, he thought, taking down mechs instead of flesh and blood. For all her ruthlessness, Cinlat had never savored a kill. She'd done her job, and she'd done it efficiently. Skytroopers, however, now they were fun. Verin loved the little self-destructive pop that wrecked the machinery.

"Enemy ambush cut us off." Torian's voice wheezed through the speakers in Verin's helmet. There was pain in each word, and it stole any delight that Verin had found in battle. "I'm the only one left. Position's about to be overrun."

"Almost there, Torian." Fynta had started running, Verin could tell by the bounce in her tone. He pulled up a map that marked the members of Clan Cadera, then noted dots that marked Fynta's approach. Torian wasn't far, Verin could beat his sister there.

Turning, Verin took two steps when another group of markers caught his attention. His blood turned to ice even as he opened a line. "Boy, tell me you are not this stupid."

"Had to do our part, buir." Blaster fire and wild shouts overlaid Tranx's response. He was supposed to be in the Enclave with the rest of the young, not out here with—

The ground rose beneath Verin's feet, making him weightless for a split second before slamming him back to the ground. Tranx's cry was the only thing that kept Verin's wits about him even while his ears rang. "Hold on, son."

Verin scrambled up a newly formed hill of silt and mud. When he reached the top, the world was on fire. Dizziness pulled at him, but Verin shoved it aside and focused on the life signs of his son and those stupid enough to leave the safety of the base. The ground gave way under Verin's boots as he slid down the other side. What had been solid dirt seconds ago felt like rolling in sand.

When he reached the group of verd'ika, he did a quick head count. One was missing, but the rest were on their feet. Verin spotted Tranx's helmet and stormed towards him. The boy saw him coming, and even being a head taller, backed away and held up his hands. Verin grabbed his son's pauldrons and smacked their helmets together. He held him in that embrace long enough to swallow the lump in his throat. "Are you alright?"

"Think so." Tranx's gloved fingers dug into the grooves of Verin's chest plate like they had when he was young. It was the only indication of how shaken the boy was.

Verin released his son and addressed the rest of the group. "Weapons hot, do not hesitate to take the shot. You stay on my back and you keep up. Is that understood?"

Helmets nodded and the kids pulled into a tighter formation. Zula, in her white and orange armor and barely tall enough to touch Tranx's shoulder, stepped up beside Verin. "Lead on."

Verin took the long way to Torian. They were as close to their injured alor as they were to the base, and Verin saw no reason to leave Torian to die alone. By the time they reached the spot on Verin's map, Fynta had arrived with an unlikely escort. Arcann straightened, pulling his blade from a downed knight.

A bolt shot past Verin's shoulder, only to be deflected by Senya. The older woman glared, and Verin turned to find Zula's rifle pressed to her shoulder. As if sensing his gaze, the girl shrugged. "You said not to hesitate." Verin smacked the back of Zula's helmet, but inside, he beamed with pride.

"Friends of yours?" Arcann rumbled as he hooked his now dormant weapon to his belt.

Fynta didn't look back as she tapped on an alien communications panel. "My brother, Verin, and his gangly host of young warriors. Nice shot, Zula."

"I see." Arcann said no more, but he and Senya both took several steps back, making room for the Mandalorians to crowd around Fynta.

Torian leaned against the panel, one arm wrapped around his middle and pointing at the screen. "That was the main comms array. Should get you all the way up to the ship."

"Good." Fynta had removed her helmet and finally looked up at Verin. "Keep everyone back and quiet." She pressed the screen, and evil appeared.

"Well, if it isn't Father's pet." The girl couldn't be older than sixteen, but Verin felt the hatred radiating off her holo. "I was just talking about you."

When Fynta answered, she sounded exasperated. "I have been up and down this battlefield looking for you. I can't believe you're cowering on a ship."

While Vaylin and Fynta traded barbs, Torian limped closer. "She'll be coming for your sister."

"Never doubted that." An odd peace settled over Verin. He had a feeling that Fynta would find a way to cheat death again because this time, she had family at her back. Torian tripped, and Verin caught him. "You going to live?"

"Probably." Torian's voice sounded more strained than before. "Wouldn't mind a hot shower."

Verin chuckled and slipped his friend's arm over his shoulder. "I'll have Noara get right on that."

"The longer you draw this out," Fynta said, arms folded over her chest and smug grin in place, "The more time my agents have to infiltrate your empire. That throne's as good as mine."

Vaylin let out a hellish screech and the image flickered out. Verin couldn't say he blamed the girl, he'd been on the receiving end of Fynta's shit eating grin more times than he wanted to count. If anyone could needle a person into a fight, it was his baby sister.

Turning away from the comm, Fynta's expression turned serious. "Time to shore up our defenses. It won't take Vaylin long to launch her next strike."

At last, Arcann joined the group, though Verin noted that he kept his hands clear of his weapon. "We are ready."

Odessen South Quadrant

Kozen lowered his blade as the last skytrooper fell. He sensed Kaeto on the other side of the trees, her blood singing with the joy of battle. It drove his higher, strengthening his muscles and his will.

"Hey. Hey, can anyone hear me?" The tiny voice rang from the comm on Kozen's belt. He'd lost himself to bloodlust, but Vette's anxious tone brought him back. Kozen palmed the device to find the small Twi'lek who had once shared his ship.

Vetty blew out a breath. "It's about time, big guy. I could use your help."

"Where are you?" There was never a doubt that Kozen would go to her. Vette had softened his heart once, a reason why he'd sent her away. Spoiling the girl, is what Quinn had called it. Though the traitorous bastard had little room to lecture Kozen on the merits of command.

"South Quadrant." Vette popped up over a broken speeder and fired her blasters. "Getting real low on ammo here."

"We are on our way." Kozen ended the call and began running. Before long, Kaeto sprinted by his side, their Force-enhanced strength driving them faster than should be possible.

Though Kozen had never understood why, Kaeto often moved with her eyes shut, sensing the world around her. He supposed it had something to do with Notiac's teachings. A Mirialukan could not help but describe the Force in a different way than sighted beings.

Keato's eyes popped open. "She's close."

Kozen didn't question his lover's ability. She took the lead, and he followed. Together, they vaulted downed walkers and tore through straggling Skytroopers. A pang of, not fear, but sadness caressed Kozen's mind. It wasn't until they broke through the foliage that he understood why.

Vette's feet kicked uselessly in the air. Time seemed to slow down as Kozen took in the multitude of Zakulaan Knights and the woman standing at their center. Vaylin turned a wicked smile on them even as Kaeto drew her blades.

"You're not who I was expecting." Vaylin released Vette, letting the gasping Twi'lek collapse without warning. Kozen took only a second to note that she was breathing before shifting his focus back to Vaylin.

"I recognize you." The girl folded one arm around her middle and pointed at each of them with lackadaisical ease. First at Kaeto, then Kozen. "You're the one who killed father the first time, or so I'm told. And you, you were his Wrath." Vaylin chuckled. "What a useless title."

Kaeto's muscles tensed, and Kozen felt it in his own. They were in sync, one mind in separate bodies. He knew she was going to strike before she moved, and his reflexes followed. Vaylin's eyes widened for the span of a heartbeat, then Kozen was hurdling backwards. His back slammed into an overturned communications relay and pain stabbed through his right side.

Pushing himself upright, Kozen looked down to find his fingers coated with blood. Kaeto saw, and her eyes met his. "I'll see you in the beyond," she called over the roar of Vaylin's building Force. A smile touched her lips, and Kozen remembered this from the vision they'd shared one silent evening. The night Kaeto had finally let him in.

Kozen dipped his head. "In the beyond." There were other things that he wanted to say, but Kaeto knew them already. He'd held nothing back from this strange, alien woman who should be his enemy. They were two sides of the same coin, hopelessly entangled in a fate bigger than both.

There was nothing left for Kozen to lose. He would die beside his soulmate, a perfect equal. Kaeto leaped towards Vaylin with a guttural cry, paving the way for Kozen's attack. His legs already felt weak, his life's blood dampening the fabric of his pant leg. With a final surge of hatred from the Dark Side, Kozen followed Kaeto for the last time. Run, Vette. He sent the thought to the Twi'lek as he passed, moving sluggishly in that moment of pure clarity that comes with a final battle. Vette didn't hesitate, and Kozen didn't see where she went.

The agony of Kaeto's death could not be compared to anything Kozen had experienced before. She had been a vital part of him for so long, that the abrupt severing of their link left ripples in the Force that struck Kozen like physical blows. The golden light that warmed him snuffed out, leaving only cold rage in its place. He would not live through this battle, he refused to. His place was in the Force, beside Kaeto. Kozen would die to give Vette time to escape, but mostly, he would die to be reunited with his soul.

Odessen South Face of Mt. Ne'johaa

Jorgan turned away with a hiss. The image of Kozen's body, impaled by Vaylin's golden blade, his bloody sneer when his fingers closed on nothing but air, was burned into Jorgan's mind. Steeling himself, he looked back down the scope. It had all happened too fast, and Jorgan had never had a clear shot. He panned the scene, noting Kaeto's crumpled body at the Sith's feet.

Vaylin lowered her weapon and watched Kozen slide lifeless to the dirt. Then, she turned and shouted at her men. Jorgan couldn't hear the orders from this distance, but they no doubt included finding Fynta. She stormed into the forest while two sets of Knights gathered the once proud Sith and Faithful Jedi's corpses.

Until that moment, Jorgan had held out hope that they could beat Vaylin. They would turn away her attack because it only made sense for good to win. After seeing the almost casual way she'd dispatched two of the most powerful Force users in the known galaxy, Jorgan doubted. Even Fynta's indomitable stubbornness was no match for the unbridled hatred that fueled Vaylin.

Jorgan had repressed the urge all night to call his wife, now he didn't hesitate. "Fynta, you read?"

"Loud and clear, Riduur." Metal groaned in the background, and Fynta's maniacal chuckle gave Jorgan something solid to hold onto. "How are things on your end?"

Guilt tugged at Jorgan. He was supposed to have met her an hour ago, but circumstances kept detouring him. He looked back down his scope, noting the absence of Kaeto and Kozen's bodies. The decision of whether or not to distract Fynta with their deaths made him hesitate long enough for Fynta's tone to turn worried.

"Fine," Jorgan answered when Fynta prompted again. "I'm up in the mountains, picking off what I can. You?"

"Stomping towards the landing bay in a stolen walker." Someone cursed in the background, a deep, masculine tone that set Jorgan's hackles up.

Jorgan barely controlled the growl in his voice. "Who was that?"

"Sounds like you already know the answer to that one, love." Jorgan could hear the grin in his wife's voice until she sighed. "Arcann and Senya are helping me. We're going to take Vaylin down once and for all."

"You can't." The shouted words tore from Jorgan before he could stop them. Cold silence answered, and Jorgan tried to reign in his panic. He couldn't let Fynta face Vaylin head on, not after what he'd just witnessed. "Are you sure you can trust them?"

It took a few more seconds for Fynta to reply. "Yes."

Jorgan heard the tone of command in Fynta's voice, the subtle reminder that right now, she was his superior and he needed to accept that. Aric blew out a breath. "I'll head that way and offer support. You don't have to do this alone."

"Thanks, Riduur." Fynta's voice softened. "Stay safe."

"You too, and hey, leave the line open, will you?" It wasn't something Jorgan would normally request, but dread tightened his stomach so much that he felt sick. If Fynta was going to her death, he was going to damn well be in her ear. Jorgan had to face the fact that he might lose her again. This time, he wasn't going to miss the chance to say goodbye."

Jorgan stood and had taken two steps towards the landing bay when Bey'wan's growl filled his helmet. "Oggurobb's position is overrun, we need any available troops to cover their retreat."

"Sound like another detour," Fynta teased while the information filled Jorgan's HUD. "I'll be waiting for you."

"You better be." With a growled curse, Jorgan tore through the foliage in the opposite direction, away from his wife. Dropping onto his belly at the edge of the cliff, he sighted on the Skytroopers closest to the retreating forces. "Jorgan to ground troops. I've got your back."

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cinlat · 1 year

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Blood in the Breeze: Ch 17 (Choices)

Parts one and two of this series linked.

Read every chapter on FFN or Ao3.

Summary: LOTS of hard choices to make, some tangible wisdom, a little bit of fun on the firing range, and one pissed off dead emperor...

Chapter Word Count: 7,200 Chapter Rating: M Characters in Chapter: Fynta Wolfe, Aric Jorgan, Theron Shan, Zolah Holran, Lana Beniko, Shillet Jorgan, Keshal Vaak, Balic Cormac...

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

Odessen Private Quarters

Jorgan tossed the empty bottles into the bin while Cormac and Fynta hazed each other about who drank more. Tayl yawned as Elara said her farewells to Shillet. The girl promised to come stay with them soon, then hugged the only mother she'd ever known before bidding him and Fynta good night. All things considered, the night had gone perfectly. Yet, Aric felt more restless than ever.

The skirmishes on Nathema sat clearly in Jorgan's mind. Force-mad guardian and the way his blades sparked off Fynta's armor. Jorgan had taken the shot. He'd missed. If not for Fynta's beskar, that bastard would have cut her in two. Because Aric had missed.

Jorgan pulled the patch off his eye and rubbed it. Fynta had given him his sight back, but when it mattered, he hadn't been good enough. The world still looked like a white haze when Jorgan closed his good eye. Tech might have been able to get Fynta back on her feet, but it couldn't make him a sniper again.

Sighing, Jorgan swept crumbs from the counter into the tash. He'd find some other way to be useful, even if it meant hanging up his scopes. The pain of that thought stole his breath.

Strong arms snaked around Jorgan's waist from behind, and the familiar weight of Fynta's head resting against his back brought a sense of peace. For her, he'd give it all up. Maybe they should. Turning, Jorgan wrapped his wife in a hug. "We should retire."

Fynta chuckled and let Jorgan pull her closer. "You keep saying that."

Jorgan tightened his hold until Fynta looked him in the eye. "I'm serious. What if we just…stopped."

The smile that a pleasant evening had put on Fynta's face slipped. "Are you serious?" Jorgan held her gaze, and familiar frustration replaced it. She pushed away and flailed her hands. "I can't just stop, Aric. I have to get him out." The last line was delivered with a sharp slap to her forehead.

"Why?" Aric crossed the room and gripped Fynta's shoulders. Every time his panic felt under control, something sparked an attack that made him feel like it was all slipping through his fingers. It didn't matter that it wouldn't work, Jorgan argued. "What power does he have if you keep him bottled up? Some bad dreams and whiplash when he stops time? We can handle that."

Fynta tried to turn away, but Jorgan held her fast. "Damn it, woman." Every fear from the last six years crashed over Jorgan all at once. His fingers tightened, desperate to hold onto a past that he saw fading with each day. They were growing apart, him settling into life as a husband and father first, her always the reckless soldier.

Unbidden, anger replaced his fear and Jorgan snarled. "What more do you have to lose to see that this war will never end. Your other leg? The rest of my sight?" Fynta glared at him, but Jorgan couldn't stop the torrent of accusations even though he knew they weren't her fault. "For fuck's sake, Cormac's still walking with a limp. Havoc squad is gone. Vik is dead. When will it be enough?"

Jorgan regretted those last words even as they left his lips. Fynta's eyes widened, and for the first time he saw true, unadulterated emotion on her face. He'd crashed through her shields while she was vulnerable and left her exposed. That had never been his intention.

Slowly, Jorgan lifted his hands. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. This was the second time in as many days that he'd fucked up what could have been a civil discussion. "That didn't come out the way I meant."

Watching Fynta's mask slide back into place left Jorgan cold. "I know." Her whispered words hurt more than any slap could have.

Jorgan took one of his wife's hands and studied it against his. It was smaller, the fingers more delicate despite the years of calluses and scars. Fynta projected herself as a giant, and sometimes even he forgot that she was only human. Without looking up, Jorgan blew out a breath. "Will you at least hear me out?" Now that the heat of the moment had faded, Jorgan felt like shit. "Please."

"Of course." Jorgan winced at the distance in Fynta's voice, but it was no less than he deserved.

"I need to show you something." Jorgan pulled Fynta to their room. She sat on the end of the bed while he dug out the ruck sack that he had neglected to unpack earlier. He'd warred with himself all night about when to bring up the black box from Nathema. Now seemed as good a time as any.

Sighing, Jorgan turned. "I found this in the vault."

It happened too fast for Jorgan to react. Fynta had been sitting on the bed, then he was tripping over the desk chair, landing on his ass with her on top of him. The face hovering above Aric didn't belong to his wife. It twisted in rage, fingers clawing for his throat.

"Fynta." The knee she drove into Jorgan's gut drove a grunt out of him. He growled and squeezed her wrists so tight that he felt the bones grinding under his fingers. "Stop."

With a shout, Fynta threw herself backwards. The nails that had clawed for his throat were now tangled in her hair. She cried out, more of a belligerent curse than tortured scream. Jorgan scrambled to her and wrapped himself around her. He muttered nonsense, holding her stiff body until it began to relax. By the time Shillet appeared at the top of the stairs, Fynta was sweaty and panting.

"It's alright," Jorgan assured the girl, though he didn't loosen his hold. He couldn't imagine what they must look like, sitting on the floor with Fynta curled into his body. "Nightmare."

"You're sure?" Shillet didn't sound convinced, but she wanted to be. Jorgan nodded, and the girl half turned. "I'll go get her some water."

Fynta shivered, then lifted her head. "Fierfek." Jorgan let out a relieved breath, that word becoming one of relief instead of the curse it was meant to be. It meant his wife was back.

At the sound of returning footsteps, Fynta pushed away from Jorgan. She managed a weak smile at Shillet. "Thanks, Shil'ika. Sorry to wake you."

The girl wore her favorite pajamas, consisting of an old SpecForce shirt that Jorgan had given her years prior and a pair of shorts that she'd proudly lifted from under the quartermaster's nose. She'd been supposed to return those. "You good?" Shillet asked, keeping her distance with thin arms wrapped around her middle.

Fynta drank deep, then let out a shuddery breath. "I'm good. Thanks."

Though Shillet didn't look convinced, she turned and went back to her room. Jorgan waited until she was gone to open his mouth, but Fynta beat him to it. "What the hell?" She pressed the heel of her hand to her eye as she gestured at the box he'd dropped. "Why did you bring him with us?"

"He gave me an idea." The ghost living in Jorgan's box claimed to be Valkorion's father. Trapped for an eternity in a lonely vault by his petty son.

Fynta winced. "The old shabuir doesn't like that."

"Good." Jorgan took Fynta's face into his hands. They'd need to discuss what had just happened and why she had reacted so violently, but first— "Ever wonder why he didn't want you in that vault?"

Eyes widening, Fynta's lips parted. "You want to trap him." She hissed and squeezed her eyes shut, nails digging into Jorgan's forearms. No doubt that old Sith was raging inside her head.

Jorgan brushed loose strands of hair from Fynta's face. "It won't be easy." Hell, he didn't even know if it would be possible. What Jorgan did know was that their current life would lead Fynta to the grave. That wasn't something he'd survive a second time.

"We'll need help," Fynta rasped. Her spine straightened, life entering her eyes once more. "And a galaxy's worth of luck."

War Room Emergency Council Meeting 02:14 Hours

"You're mad." Lana waved a hand at Fynta while speaking to Zolah. "Tell the woman she's gone absolutely insane."

The Chiss shrugged narrow shoulders. "Since when has she ever listened to me?"

Arguments erupted, all the while Fynta watched the hope drain from Aric's eyes. She couldn't say that she disagreed with Lana's assessment. This was one of those grasping at straws plans. The sort that only the truly desperate made up. Fynta hadn't realized that they'd reached that point until Valkorion's rage over the holocron took over.

Fynta knew what, more specifically, who was in that box. She had ordered it to be left behind, to let the old bastard who sired the dead bastard in her head rot for all of eternity. Apparently, her husband had other plans.

A shiver traveled up Fynta's spine at the memory. It hazed, becoming more cloudy as the moments passed, but the rage lingered. Valkorion had roared in her mind, awakening some deep part of her that needed to kill. That old blood lust from childhood that Fynta had buried so long ago. Valkorion hadn't so much taken control of her body, but he'd unleashed the beast within, and she'd gone after the nearest target. That couldn't be allowed to happen again.

"We could use the same technique on Fynta that was used on me," Zolah suggested. Fynta's attention snapped back to the conversation. Zolah rarely spoke about her conditioning, only that it had been unpleasant, but she wouldn't hesitate to use that knowledge to better their position in the war effort.

Vector shook his head, his jaw taut with what Fynta assumed was disapproval. "We will not be a part of such tactics again." Zolah's eyes rolled towards the ceiling, evidence of a years-long argument between the couple. Vector continued without acknowledging his wife's chagrin. "Furthermore, that was an absolute loss of autonomy. Fynta would become a powerful weapon in the wrong hands."

Voices clambered for attention, and Fynta lost interest again. A yawn built in the back of her throat, and she clamped her teeth together to keep it caged. Finally, Notiac interjected with a calm that silenced the room. "I would like to speak with Felix about this."

Only the uncomfortable shuffle of feet answered. Felix Iresso had been a prisoner of war more than a decade ago, the only surviving member of his squad. Only later did the Republic learn that he'd been implanted with experimental holocron tech. No one knew how it worked or what knowledge lay dormant in his mind. Not even the Imperials. And, not for lack of trying. By the time he joined the Alliance, Felix had as many or more scars than Fynta.

"Is that a good idea?" Theron asked. He cleared his throat, and Fynta noted the intentional way he didn't look at their Imperial allies, specifically his girlfriend, the former Cipher Nine. "We promised that he wouldn't be prodded here."

Somehow, Notiac projected peace. Her lips tipped up, a matriarch indulging a child's concern. "No prodding. I simply wish to hear his thoughts on the matter. Fynta, Jorgan, I believe you should accompany me."

"Do you see a way for this plan to work," Lana hedged, eyes narrowed at her Jedi lover. Fynta didn't bother pointing out that Notiac didn't have eyes, though her fatigued thoughts snagged on that bit and refused to let it go.

As Fynta looked around the room, she realized how odd they were. Discounting her, a born Mandalorian, marrying a Cathar. That left the two pairs of Sith/Jedi couples, and a handful of intelligence agents from opposing sides settling into a foursome of domestic bliss. Technically, Theron had surrounded himself with Imperials, but he was stubborn enough to keep whatever loose morals guided him. What had started as a paltry group of radicals had merged into a single force, with no room for Imps and Pubs. They were simply the Alliance now.

Notiac dipped her head. "Possibly. I understand the idea behind Major Jorgan's proposal. Vitiate's father has been trapped for eons, unable to do harm. They want to do the same with Valkorion, trap him in Fynta's mind where he can no longer sway the growth of our galaxy. If done correctly, when she dies, he will simply cease to exist."

Fynta noted that the emperor in question had been silent since his outburst in their quarters. She didn't know what to make of it, but assumed there would be dreams and visits in the coming days to talk her out of this plan.

"I would also like to include Kaeto and Kozen. His skillset could prove useful," Notiac continued. Then, she looked at Fynta. "On second thought, I believe perhaps you should not be there. Major Jorgan can relay any pertinent instructions to you, and I have little doubt that he will base every decision on your wellbeing."

"Sure." Fynta didn't doubt it either, but she made a mental note to remind Aric that they were doing this for the sake of the galaxy too. That there would always be risk.

Zolah nodded, then added her concerns. "Say that we cage the mad emperor. What then? He will always be privy to our plans, even if he's rendered impoten—"

"I retire." Fynta saw Aric straighten, and Zolah let her sentence go unfinished. "We lock him in, then throw away the key. Take me off the board. Without access to fancy weapons and galactic armies, I'm just a Force blind human with a short temper and good aim. He can't do too much with that. Aric and I leave the Alliance and find somewhere remote to live out the rest of our lives." Now that she'd said it out loud, it didn't seem as terrible a plan.

"And what of the Alliance?" Zolah asked, her tone more clipped that Fynta expected. The Chiss had never sung Fynta's praises; she assumed Zolah would be pleased to have her out of the way.

Fynta gestured at the gathering. "It's yours. I was a figurehead, a way to draw people in. You've outgrown me." It was true, she realized. The Alliance was bigger than Fynta Wolfe, in truth it always had been.

Lana sighed and rubbed her temples. "That is—a lot to process." She dropped her arms and addressed the room. "It's late, and we all need rest. Before making any decisions, we must figure out if this plan is feasible. Once that question is answered, we can deal with what comes after. All in favor of dismissal?"

Three hands raised at once, Fynta's being among them. Aric and Vector seconding. It was no surprise that Theron, Quinn, and Zolah wanted more time to argue. "Motion carried." Fynta clapped her hands, then rubbed them together. "Good night, everyone. I'll see you at lunch."

Fynta angled for the door, speeding up when Aric joined her. They turned the corner before he leaned close to her ear. "Thank you."

Somehow, Fynta found a weak smile in her exhaustion, even though she felt hollow. Retirement had never been a concern for Fynta. She'd never expected to live long enough to see it. Now that it loomed on the horizon, Fynta didn't know what to think.

Odessen Officer's Quarters 10:00 Hours

Even as large as the Odessen was, it was hard to find privacy. Jorgan was used to the constant press of bodies and movement after years in the military. Still, there were moments when he felt the invasion more keenly. Jorgan hadn't meant to eavesdrop on Fynta's conversation, but Keshal's voice snagged his attention when he stepped into their quarters after a training session with Bey'wan.

"I hear that you've been questioning the Resol'nare." The woman hefted her daughter, who'd reached the age of non stop wiggling. She sighed and shifted Jodi to the other hip. "Care to hash it out?"

Jorgan pressed himself to the wall and ignored the guilt that gnawed at his gut. He knew that Fynta had been struggling with her identity lately. So many things had changed for all of them, but time had been compressed for Fynta, and she felt the ripples of his more keenly. It was part of why Jorgan had pushed for retirement. They needed to separate themselves from the constant battle that had become their lives.

"What makes you think that?" Fynta's tone sounded guarded. Then, she signed. "Verin's got a big mouth."

"Only when it comes to those he loves." Keshal blew air through her lips, and baby Jobi giggled.

"I'm not questioning the Resol'nare," Fynta admitted after a moment of silence. Jorgan's brows lifted. He'd never seen anyone bully Fynta into sharing her feelings as fast as Keshal did. Then again, few people said no to the matronly Mandalorian. "Just my place in it."

"Explain what—shab, let go you greedy little strill." Jorgan heard a scuffle and fought the urge to look around the corner. He assumed it involved one of Keshal's many braids and Jodi's tiny fingers. With a huff, Keshal continued. "You've got Cinlat's armor. You speak the language and put clan above all else, and—"

Fynta growled, and Jorgan heard the heavy clatter of her metal foot as she paced. "And no colors for that armor. A child that I can't raise in our culture because her father is Cathar, a Mand'alor that I'll never answer the call of…" She trailed off, footsteps falling quiet. "I'm dar'manda now." The horror in Fynta's voice twisted Aric's stomach. He knew what the term meant, but had never expected to hear it from his wife's lips.

Keshal hissed. "Hold your tongue, girl." Jodi's cooing paused while the girl puzzled out her mother's shift in temperament. "You take these things too literally. Colors will come. The Mand'alor is your alley, who you will aid if she calls. And as for Aric, well, he married a Mandalorian. That's on him."

Fynta didn't answer, but Aric heard the mattress squeak as she settled on it. Keshal's words echoed through his mind. He had chosen Fynta, knowing how integral her culture was to her. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to let her instill some of the better aspects of Mandalorian culture in their daughter. Thirteen wasn't an adult, though, Jorgan wouldn't budge on that.

"When my husband died," Keshal continued, her voice softer than before. "I felt lost. Do you remember that feeling? When you learned that you were married?"

Fynta must have nodded because Keshal only paused briefly. "That feeling of spiraling out of control. Of the universe plotting a course that you can barely hang onto. I felt that. I had a young son, my clan had scattered, and there was no way out."

"What did you do?" Fynta asked. Jodi squealed, and Keshal swore again. Fynta chuckled in reply. It reminded Jorgan of the way Cormac used to laugh when Shillet flung her food everywhere. Stars, Aric missed those days. "Assuming there's a moral to this story," Fynta continued, but there was a note of laughter in the biting words.

"I shaved my head," Keshal growled. "Something I'm considering doing again before this child rips my hair out by the root."

There was a scuffle, then Keshal sighed. "It was a small change, but something I could control. I felt empowered, and that stupid haircut breathed enough life into my sorry shebs that we survived."

"Not sure Aric would approve of me shaving my head, but I get the point." Fynta chuckled again. "Thanks."

"Now, about your brother." Keshal launched into a tirade about how long Verin had been gone and the trouble he could get into. Aric excused himself, giving Fynta the privacy that he should have from the beginning. He needed to find a way to approach the subject of Shillet and apologize for being an ass about it. If he wanted Fynta to be a part of his daughter's life, then he needed to give her that freedom.

Two days later, Jorgan poked the fire he'd built at their mountainside retreat and sighed. Fynta had run late in meetings and commed to say that she would meet him at their campsite. It had been his idea, a way to get Fynta alone so that they could work out some of the tension building between them.

The weather was forecast to be warm but comfortable. Jorgan had planned a mountain climb and maybe a late-night swim in the spring. That was hours ago.

Fynta arrived well after sunset, making enough noise to announce her presence. Jorgan poked the fire again, letting the knot that had squeezed his chest burn off. He'd begun to wonder if she wouldn't come at all. "Thought you'd forgotten."

"Never." Fynta's tone perked Jorgan's ears. He turned with dread to see what fresh hell the War Council meetings had heaped onto them this time. Jorgan paused half standing when Fynta stepped into the light.

Jorgan didn't remember crossing the campsite. Fynta kept her eyes low in an uncharacteristic scowl. Aric reached for a dark strand of hair that had worked its way free of its binding, then paused. "This is…different."

"I needed a change." Fynta tugged at a lock of hair, then squared her shoulders and looked Jorgan in the eye. "I needed to take control of something."

The defiance in Fynta's eyes barely hid the fear behind them. Jorgan remembered her conversation with Keshal, how one small detail could mean the difference between confidence, and the breakdown that Fynta had been creeping towards for weeks. At least she hadn't shaved it.

Taking Fynta's hand, Aric pulled her into the firelight where he could see her better. Fynta didn't fight or speak as he tugged the tie free so that he could run his fingers through the now black strands. He'd only known Fynta as the feisty blonde, with hair caught between pale highlights and brown undertones with no direction as to where it would end up.

The black complimented her skin, bringing out the bronze hues, and making her eyes blaze brighter. Jorgan had always known his wife was beautiful, and had spent many a grumpy meeting glaring at the men who threw themselves at her. The new color amplified that, contrasting where the blonde had blended.

Jorgan smiled and tucked the strand behind Fynta's ear. "It suits you."

Odessen Training Room

"You sure about this, boss?" Cormac blocked two high strikes and a dirty kick. His hips almost had full range of motion, and his left knee didn't give out anymore. Which was good since Fynta wasn't holding back.

"Of course not." Fynta ducked beneath Cormac's jab, then stabbed two fingers into his ribs. He grunted, and she danced away. "But, Aric has a point."

Rubbing his abused torso, Cormac put some distance between him and the agile not-blonde. He liked the new hair color and thought it brought out the light in her eyes. He hated seeing how dull they had become lately. "That means you'll be stuck with him for the rest of your life. Is that what you want?" If Cormac had his way, they'd fight to the throne room of Zakuul and find a way to be rid of the old emperor once and for all.

Fynta blew out a breath, and Cormac used that opportunity to box her ears. He managed to get one before she stomped his foot. With a curse, Cormed limped back to his side of the mat. Fynta waved at the ceiling, and damn it, Cormac looked up even though he knew she was being rhetorical. "I don't know. You weren't there. You didn't see him."

"Pretty sure I was," Cormac responded, dragging his gaze down from the nothing above them. Fynta's features clouded, and he shrugged. The poor woman had gotten a healthy dose of reality from a lot of people lately, and it looked like it was his turn.

Cormac started unwrapping his gloves and jerked his head towards the bench where their bags were stored. He flopped onto the metal seat, pleased that it didn't hurt. Fynta joined him, focusing too hard on her gear. She sighed. "Tell me."

They'd never spoken about the time when Fynta was away, not at length. He'd been so damn grateful when her memory returned that rehashing those emotions didn't seem worth it. But, Cormac was good at reading people, and right now it seemed that the bosses were out of sync. That was bad for everyone.

Leaning back, Cormac took a deep breath. "It was hell." Fynta winced, and he patted her leg. He didn't want to hurt her or betray Jorgan's worst moments, but she needed to know in order to make the best decision for everyone. "He stopped eating, dropped maybe ten kilo. He's never been a jolly bloke but all the life was gone from him. Jorgan woke up, did his duty, then went to bed. Shillet was the only thing keeping him going after they declared you dead."

"Yeah." Fynta breathed the word and leaned against the walll. Her shoulder pressed against Cormac's, but she still didn't look at him. "I've never seen him like this."

"He's scared." Cormac knew the feeling. It was worse with Elara and Tayl on Odessen than it had ever been while they were apart. "I don't think he'd survive losing you again." Cormac stopped short of voicing his opinions on how that end would come, only that he had doubted the Cathar would outlive his mate a second time.

They sat in silence for a moment, then Fynta dropped her face into her hands. "I need to figure him out again." Her voice was muffled, but Cormac understood. "We are so different now. I don't know how to get us back on the same page."

Plastering on a grin, Cormac nudged his best friend's shoulder until she looked at him. "Go back to the basics. Find something that you can connect with and build from there." He wiggled his eyebrows for added effect.

Fynta chuckled and shoved Cormac away. Then, she straightened. "Actually, that gives me an idea." She reached beneath the bench and snatched her gear. Fynta took two steps, then came back and planted a kiss on the top of Cormac's bald head. "You're a genius. Give Elara and Tayl my love."

Cormac lifted a hand to wave his friend off, then set about gathering the rest of his gear. Maybe he should take his own advice and treat Elara to a nice night at the cantina. Shillet probably owed him a favor, and she wouldn't turn down time with her little cousin anyway. By the time Cormac stood, he had an entire evening of dancing and relaxation planned. Now, all he had to do was pry his wife away from the medical bay long enough to enjoy it.

Odessen Alliance Base Indoor Rifle Range 0023 Hours

Jorgan followed Fynta into the rifle range and flipped on the external light to warn others that it was occupied. It was late, after midnight, and he felt the weight of the day wearing on him. They'd enjoyed a day in the mountains, but had been recalled early to deal with a new development in Vaylin's plans. Since then, Jorgan had barely seen his wife.

Stifling a yawn, Jorgan set his kit down and flipped through the target options. Fynta had refused to leave until Shillet was asleep, which the girl seemed to recognize and found every reason to stay awake. That was after a run with Iresso, a fresh batch of recruit testing, and general fretting over things he couldn't change. Jorgan had dozed once or twice on the couch while the girls had their battle of wills.

"What are you up to?" Jorgan didn't want to be on the firing range, but could tell Fynta had planned a special evening for them. He just hoped they could get through it without another argument.

A hand settled over Jorgan's, jerking him out of his glum thoughts. Fynta nodded to the far lane. "Come on, I've already got it set up."

"Been planning this?" Jorgan aimed for flirtatiousness and was rewarded with Fynta's signature grin. Her gaze traced along the blacks he wore, stirring a twinge of excitement in his gut. A quick glance towards the door revealed that she'd unplugged the security camera. Her grin widened when his lifted brows found her again.

Instead of the blankets he'd hoped to find behind the dividing wall, Jorgan's sniper rifle perched on the flat countertop and a target blinked at the hundred yard mark. He shifted a wary glare towards his wife. "I could probably hit that without the fancy new eye patch."

"Gotta start somewhere," Fynta answered with a wave for Aric to step up. "We need to calibrate it better so that there are fewer unknowns in the field." She didn't say it, but Jorgan knew that she'd seen his mistake. He was a liability now.

Sighing, Jorgan pressed his shoulder into the rifle butt and propped his elbows on the table. The patchwork of lines flickered to life the moment his eyepiece touched the scope. Shapes formed, creating the other half of what his good eye saw in a precise, green grid. The target appeared last, though the entire process took less than fifteen seconds. Even though he didn't need it for such a short distance, Aric ran through the routine of relaxing his muscles and counting heart beats. He squeezed the trigger on an exhale and the target flashed a sequence of colors to mark a bullseye.

Straightening, Jorgan smirked at his wife. "Satisfied?"

Fynta bent forward and unlaced her right boot. "Eventually." Jorgan watched the woman gracelessly relieve herself of the shoe, tipping so far to the side that he reached out to steady her on instinct. Fynta batted his hand away. "No touching."

Jorgan withdrew and gestured at the firing lane. "What's this all about?"

Fynta kicked the offending boot to the side, then nodded towards the target. It had moved out to one hundred and fifty yards. Jorgan attempted one of her brow raises in response. "For every hit," she continued, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms in a way that lifted her breasts for his appreciation. "I'll drop an article of clothing."

"Now the security camera makes sense," Jorgan replied, hoping that his voice didn't give away the speed of his racing heart. Fynta didn't respond, which set his nerves on edge.

Carefully, Jorgan set his rifle on the table and folded his arms to match Fynta's stance. "What happens if I miss?"

Fynta's shoulders lifted. "Nothing, but I'll pull the target in closer." Pushing off the wall, she slinked closer, hips rolling and eyes dancing with challenge. "You either get me naked, or prove that you can't hack it as a sniper anymore." Her voice dropped an octave, and she stopped short of touching him. "The choice is yours, Major Jorgan."

"Damn you, woman." Aric spun around and snatched his rifle from the stand. Echoes of a similar conversation a lifetime ago rolled through his thoughts. A time when Fynta entertained the prospect of giving up the life she loved instead of trusting in technology. Fynta was making her point in the same way he had after losing her leg. Accept the hard truth that his fighting style had to change, or retire. There was no room for half measures on the battlefield.

This time, Fynta rested her hand on Jorgan's arm, but he couldn't make himself look at her. "There is no one I would rather have at my back. We do this together, or what's the point?"

Swallowing his pride, Jorgan nodded and sighted on the next target. Fynta had agreed not to bench him again. Now, he needed to prove that he could still be counted on. When Jorgan executed another perfect shot, Fynta removed her sock, then her jacket, leaving her in just the casual blacks she wore around the base. When the target hit three hundred yards, Jorgan felt the warm press of breasts against his back. "Don't miss," Fynta whispered against the shell of his ear. A shiver ran the length of his spine, but Aric pushed it down.

The kaleidoscope of color announced another perfect shot, and Jorgan looked over his shoulder in time to see Fynta pull her belt free. He let his eyes trail over her before finding her face. "You're running out of clothing." Glancing back at the target, Jorgan estimated how far he could make it out before she was out of bargaining chips. "You've only got until five hundred yards before I win."

Fynta shook her head. "Don't worry about me." Something in her tone made Aric hesitate. He stared at his wife, trying to peer past the smug exterior to work out her plan. Eventually, he gave up and found the target again.

Three-fifty wasn't a difficult shot, but he'd never taken it with the eye piece. An uneasiness settled in Jorgan's stomach, and he flexed his hands to work out the stiffness. Insecurities that he hadn't felt since his rookie days creeped into the back of his mind until warmth slid around his ribs.

Jorgan looked down to find Fynta's hands splayed across his stomach. "What are you doing?"

"Distracting you." Fynta nipped his ear, making Jorgan start. He heard her laughter when she spoke again. "Is it working?"

"No." Jorgan didn't believe his gruff answer any more than Fynta would, but her touch gave him something to focus on more than his fear. Something to conquer.

The rifle kicked, and Jorgan let out a relieved breath when the target signaled a hit. Fynta's hands unwound from his body, but Aric felt movement as his back. When the target positioned itself at four hundred yards, he leaned forward to let the instruments read the field.

Tan skin slid into Jorgan's peripheral, a naked leg that rubbed suggestively alongside his. Aric cleared his throat and squinted down the line. His best shot was more than twice this, but the range only went to one thousand yards. He could do this, and prove to himself that his career hadn't ended.

Fynta's hands returned to their positions on Aric's stomach, the warmth of her exposed skin seeping through his pant leg made for a better distraction than enemy fire. He huffed a breath and focused on his heart beat, listening to a rhythm that was faster than he'd have liked. Another shot sparked cheerful colors from the target.

Straightening, Aric turned to his wife. "Fynta, this isn't going to—" His words dried on his tongue. After so many years together, the sight of her wiggling out of a shirt still brought him up short. He was mesmerized by the seductive way her hips twisted while she worked the fabric over her head and the flex of abdominals when the shirt finally cleared.

Fynta dropped the cloth on top of her pants and boot, then stretched. "Sorry, riduur, you were saying?"

Jorgan growled low in his throat, a primal sound that he'd hidden from other women. Fynta loved it, often coaxing more from him. She stepped back and held up one finger when Aric started towards her. "Remember? No touching."

With narrowed eyes, Jorgan returned to his perch and leaned forward to peer down his scope. Before he could find the target, Fynta's body pressed against his back, her hands toying with the hem of his shirt. Aric's body was more than aware of the change in her scent and how little separated their skin.

Target acquired, Jorgan's finger tightened on the trigger until the drawstring in his pants loosened. "That's. Cheating." He bit the words out through gritted teeth while Fynta wound her fingers in the flimsy ties.

Fynta's hand slid into the loosened waistband of his pants and offered a tantalizing massage through his underwear. "I never specified my rules," Fynta husked, fingers squeezing and flexing around his clothed shaft. The combination of heat and coarse material made for a dizzying sensation. "Think you can make the shot under—" her fist tightened, stopping short of pain. "Duress?"

Air wheezed between Jorgan's lips. Fynta's heady scent filled his nostrils, clouding out everything except removing that final barrier between his erection and her heat. Teeth bared, Aric met those deep, blue eyes over his shoulder. "Watch me."

The target flashed a hit, and Fynta rewarded Aric with several, quick strokes. He yelped in surprise, gripping the table with one hand while trying not to send his rifle clattering to the floor. When she released him, Jorgan felt like he could breathe for the first time. Until he saw that she'd removed her bra. His mouth went dry, attention drawn to the two perfect peaks that he wasn't allowed to caress.

Fynta pretended not to notice, nodding down the line. "Five hundred yards, Major. Make this shot, and…" Her thumbs slipped into the elastic of her underwear, dragging one side low enough to expose her hip bone.

Snapping his attention back to that infuriating smirk, Jorgan's eyes narrowed. "I'll have you when this is over, woman."

The impish grin widened. "I'm counting on it."

With rolled eyes, Jorgan forced himself to bend forward and press the high tech eye patch to the scope again. Visions of what he planned to do to Fynta after this shot played out in distracting clarity. He'd bend her over the stall and take her from behind until she was panting in Mando'a, then—

The brush of fabric caught his attention a second before Aric's thoughts splintered into a hundred shards of light. Wet heat enveloped him, wrapping his mind in cotton while his body hummed to life. Even when he looked down to find Fynta on her knees, head bobbing while her mouth made delicious sucking noises, his mind couldn't make sense of it. He'd had a fantasy like this a long time ago and was almost certain that he'd never mentioned it to Fynta.

Fynta took Aric into the back of her throat, gripping his hips when he tried to push for more and glanced upward. The damn woman smiled, and somehow it was all the more radiant with his cock in her mouth. "What—" her throat flexed and his words scattered.

Pulling back, Fynta smiled with an innocence she'd never possessed. "Take the shot, riduur." Her tongue flicked out to tease him, and Aric shivered. "If you can."

The defiant note in Fynta's voice battered against the haze of pleasure she'd lured Jorgan into. It reminded him of his purpose. With one hand, Jorgan cupped Fynta's chin, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip. "You're on."

Odessen Alliance Base Command Quarters 03:47 Hours

Fynta should be asleep. Her body ached in that delicious way it always did when Aric let loose in bed. She'd never been more grateful that Shillet chose to stay over with Elara and Cormac. There were some sounds that a girl should never hear her father make.

The man in question sprawled on his stomach, one arm draped over Fynta's torso. He'd meant to cuddle, no doubt, but had succumbed to exhaustion before completing the act. Smiling, Fynta scraped her nails over Aric's scalp. It had been a good night, a way to reconnect over what they did best. Probably not what Cormac had meant with his pep talk. But, Fynta felt more in sync with her husband than she had in months. She hoped that their unorthodox exercise had bolstered his confidence behind the scope too.

Fynta stretched, then settled closer to her husband. Aric pulled her against his body without opening his eyes, sliding one hand under her shirt while burying his face in her hair. It reminded Fynta of those stolen moments back on the Thunderclap in between missions. Their romance had been fresh and forbidden back then. They'd risked their careers to be together. Now, Fynta worried that they risked more.

You can't do this without me.

Valkorion had been sedate since Aric's reveal of the mad Sith's long trapped father. He muttered ominous warnings in the back of Fynta's mind, but had yet to approach her outright. Fynta didn't think he was scared. More like the chakaar was plotting, biding his time until an opportunity presented itself; a way to take away her choice.

Fynta's comm buzzed across the room. A second later, Aric's joined it. Muttering a curse, Fynta wiggled out from under her husband's arm. Aric grumbled and rolled onto his back. "Thought we'd banned those things from the bedroom."

In the second it took Fynta to open her mouth for a snarky retort, the floor lifted her into the air. There was the feeling of weightlessness, a moment to think of some choice words, then her weight drove the air from Aric's lungs. Their eyes met, and Fynta's comm flickered to life at the end of the bed where it had landed. Theron appeared in muted blues, shirtless and typing furiously.

Fynta scrambled off her husband while he rolled to his feet to find his gear. "Theron, what the hell was that?"

Fynta had known Theron for a long time. She'd seen him in all manner of circumstances from exasperated friend to cold blooded murderer, even a desperate lover once or twice. She'd never seen fear on his face, not until his hazel eyes met hers through the holo. "It's Vaylin. She found us."

#blood in the breeze #meet me on the battlefield #fynta wolfe #aric jorgan #balic cormac #keshal vaak #theron shan #shillet jorgan #zolah holran #lana beniko #smutty fun on the firing range #a lot of choices #some bigger than others #all important #valkorion is not impressed

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