#pash cracken

[incorrectstarwarslegendsquotes]

Being a ginger has plagued me my entire life. People say I smell like copper. I can get a sunburn indoors and night. According to recent legend, I have no soul.

half the EU

[from-a-legends-pov]

Star Wars Legends Spotlight: The Liberation of Coruscant

In this last week of writer signups for the From a Legends Point of View fanfiction event, we’ll be celebrating Legends by highlighting some key events, characters, and moments from the Legends continuity.

Writers: Help us add to the story! Sign up to write for the From a Legends Point of View fanfiction event now through June 2. Together, we’ll build a collection of Star Wars Legends fanfiction set during the time of the Original Trilogy. Use our Signup Form to pitch your story concepts (Signup Guidelines available here) and please encourage your favorite writers to participate!

Our next spotlight is the Liberation of Coruscant (the capital planet of both the former Republic and of the Galactic Empire) from the Empire in 7 ABY.

Why is this important?

While the Battle of Endor cleared the way for the establishment of the New Republic and the beginning of the end of the Empire, the Galactic Civil War wasn’t yet over. The celebrations and uprisings upon hearing of the Alliance victory at Endor were quickly put down, and much of the galaxy remained under an oppressive regime. With the death of the Emperor, various Imperial warlords battled for power and sought to declare themselves the successor to Palpatine or to at least amass enough territory to prevent the New Republic from gaining a foothold. On Coruscant, that person was Director of Imperial Intelligence Ysanne Isard (“Iceheart”).

As the seat of power for both the old Republic and the Empire, Coruscant had important strategic and symbolic value for the New Republic. The New Republic also reasoned that the sooner Coruscant could be taken, the faster the remainder of the Empire would fall.

Equally important is the way in which Coruscant was taken — not by the straightforward bombardment one might expect from a power like the Empire, but a combination of creative strategies involving Rebel spies, Black Sun gangsters, and Rogue Squadron pilots.

How does it happen?

As Han would say, this is where the fun begins. The major events take place in Michael Stackpole’s novel X-Wing: Wedge’s Gamble, although parts are referred to in the following book X-Wing: The Krytos Trap (turns out “It’s a trap!” Isn’t just a saying for Bespin or Endor).

The New Republic gets things started by releasing 16 Black Sun criminals who were being held on Kessel and transporting them to Coruscant to distract the Imperials. Meanwhile, members of Rogue Squadron sneak onto Coruscant under various cover identities (Wedge Antilles and Pash Cracken as Imperial officers, Erisi Dlarit and Corran Horn as an Kuat noble and her attendant, other members of the squadron traveling with Mirax Terrik in the Pulsar Skate) and meet up with Rebel Intelligence contacts on planet (including Winter Retrac and Iella Wessiri). Their goal is to sabotage the planetary defenses long enough to enable a successful attack from the New Republic forces.

Their first sabotage attempt involves trying to insert sliced computer cores into all the major computers that control systems on Coruscant, to enable them to take control of the planet’s shields and bring them down when the New Republic forces arrive. While the initial part of the plan is successful, they are sold out to the Imperials by one of the Black Sun operatives on the team and have to go to plan B (and reveal Tycho Celchu, who was on-planet secretly to help with hideouts and espionage).

Their next attempt involves using a series of solar mirrors to cause a super storm — a huge electrical storm that disrupts power to the shields and enables Corran Horn to fly in and destroy the substation controlling the shields. That attempt is successful, and the New Republic attacks from the air and lands ground forces to take the planet. There are several tough battles on the ground, and General Han Solo sends in a special force led by Luke Skywalker to help take the Imperial Palace, where members of the Imperial High Command have barricaded themselves. The New Republic forces prevail, and the capital planet is now in the hands of the New Republic.

What’s next?

The liberation of Coruscant sets up several plots and themes that carry into other Legends materials, such as the Krytos virus that targets non-humans, Tycho Celchu being framed for murder, mistrust between humans and non-humans, Ysanne Isard as a major Imperial villain, and even the use of starfighter pilots in more of a spy or commando fashion rather than only in straight battles.

[theology101]

Who’s the Best Pilot?

In general, I tried to take someone's Force Talent into account and have that be somewhat weighed against them - Luke is probably equal to Wedge, Tycho and Sootnir (Which really should be the S Row, Vader alone in S+ cause the man was dogfighting at near lightspeed and everyone shifted down) but they're just humans were as he's a Jedi. Other times though, like the Force Users we do have at the top, they're just so overwhelmingly better then the people around them that they deserve to be that high up.

S+ —> Vader/Anakin, Wedge Antilles, Soontir Fel, Tycho Celchu

S —> Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Jaina Solo, Jagged Fel, Saesee Tiin, Corran Horn

A —> Hera Syndulla, Rey Skwaylker, Jacen Solo, Kylo Ren, Plo Koon, Poe Dameron, Kyp Durron, Pash Cracken, Ooryl Qyrgg

B —> Maarek Stele, Shea Hublin, Ventress, Ahsoka Tano, Gavin Darklighter, Bror Jace, Lowbacca, Din Djarin

C —> Tri-Fighters, Bo-Katan Kryze, Obi-Wan, Chirdaki, Che’ri, Biggs Darklighter, Shara Bey, Biggs Darklighter, Garven Dreis, Nien Nunb

D —> Clone Troopers, Ello Asty, Porkins, Jessika Pava, Varko Grey,  Inyri Forge, Aril Nunb, Rella Sol, Jake Farrel

F —> Vulture Droids, Cade Skywalker, Lujayne Forge, Eresi Delerit, Havina Vonreg

[barbiejedi]

I just have a lot of feelings about Pash Cracken and Judder Page okay

Okay so you know how when you're a wee babby fan, and you read stuff, and maybe you don't know what shipping is yet, or you've juuuust about advanced to the point where you pick up on the ships that most writers are going HEY HEY LOOK THIS IS A CANON RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN A CANON COUPLE, AND THEY ARE TOTES DATING AND MAKING OUT RIGHT HERE ON THE PAGE LOOKIT, but most of the time you're just going WOAH SPACESHIPS MAN PEW PEW PEW

And then sometimes there are characters you can see in your head because they were in films, or were referenced in films, and you attach to them because they've got names like Wedge or Janson or Darklighter, and you pay attention to them because the writer is going HEY LOOK AT AWESOME PEOPLE DOING AWESOME THINGS

And THEN sometimes there are these characters that don't have names you remember from movies, and you have a hard time seeing them in your head because they don't look like anyone you know, but then the writer has them doing AWESOME THINGS and you go WOAH AWESOME CHARACTER

And then somehow in your head these awesome characters start hanging out, despite the fact that they never really had a whole lot of interaction in the pages of the books you first loved them in

And then suddenly you're writing fanfic where they're space-married.

Because like, they're three years apart and Pash grew up in a family of freedom fighters during the Galactic Civil War he followed his daddy into service, and was a kickass A- and X-wing pilot, and Judder was the son of a rich Imperial senator who went to the Imperial Academy and defected after hearing Princess Leia give a speech about how SUPER SPECIEST THE EMPIRE WAS, and HE was a kickass commando.

AND THEN DURING THE NEW JEDI ORDER THEY SERVED TOGETHER ON THE MEMORY OF ITHOR WHICH WAS DESTROYED AT BILBRINGI AND THEY SPENT MONTHS IN A YUUZHAN VONG POW CAMP ON SELVARIS, WHERE THEY ARE BASICALLY THE HEAD GUYS IN CHARGE OF ALL THE PRISONERS THERE, AND MADE PLANS AND KEPT EVERYONE FROM LOSING HOPE OR GOING CRAZY, AND JUST--

(This has been in my drafts since Sept 11 2012, as evidenced by the SPN gif, and I'm finally setting it free. idk what happened to fic, I don't remember writing anything, but it makes me want to reread Legends stuff.)

[mando-of-esverr]

The agent pushed a little harder, he bent over and braced his hands against the table using the same dangerous tone, "And I told you at the beginning of this interview, that everything I speak is classified and that I had no interest in going through official channels." He pointedly did not look at the gauntletted bracer or the threat inherent there. His words hung in the air for a moment.

"Very good." The edge left and again the agent's voice was pleasant. "Here's a data card. Make sure that you study the information well. It won't allow you to copy it, and it will erase itself after twenty minutes of you inserting it into a reader." Again he opened his hands like a shrug, "An advance will be sent to your account, non-traceable."

A few credits were placed on the table to cover Darius' drink. "What is it those pilots you're so obsessed with like to say? Clear skies and may the force be with you."

He left.

On the data card is a list of assets to be secured and removed:

Those named starred are required, all others are suggestions which will earn additional rewards and payment.

*Supreme Commander Admiral Ackbar - Fleet/Starfighter Command *Commander Wedge Antilles - Starfighter Command/Rogue Squadron *Councilor Leia Organa - Provisional Council Admiral Hiram Dreyson - Fleet Command Major Bren Derlin - Intelligence Captain Pash Cracken - Starfighter Command

Darius met the agent's glower with a glare of his own. He wouldn't be intimidated, not by a slinky gray-hat like this. He was still glaring even after accepting the card. The departing "well-wishes" left a sour taste in his mouth but he didn't return them, he only nodded as the man left. Good riddance.

Darius looked down at the data card and frowned deeply. Something in his gut told him he wasn't going to like this. But he'd accepted the job so he was duty bound to do it. Fortunately, there wouldn't be any way to trace this job to any Imperial sources and Tajur wasn't privy to his accounts outside of contract payments which meant this was completely on him.

The Mando's gut clenched uncomfortably and he got up from the table. He wasn't in the mood to drink now, but at least the Imp had done him the favor of paying for his table. He debated on taking the data card to the Corvid to copy down the information. Darius might not be able to duplicate the list directly, but copies were easy enough to remake from memory.

'Mm, I've got a bad feeling about this,' he thought, making his decision and heading off to his ship. He wasn't sure his pilot would be keen on this job. Or maybe he wasn't keen on getting Theo involved in a job like this? He didn't know but he would once he saw what was on the card. Still, he didn't want to read the data card too soon, lest he miss his chance at recording the data he needed for the job which would only add to things.

With a brief greeting to his pilot, he made his way into his quarters, locked the door, and proceeded to get his reader and data pad out. Ready to take notes, the Mandalorian inserted the card and felt his stomach clench.

His eyes flicked down the list of six names as dread bubbled up his throat like bile. These weren't assets. These were enemy commanders. This was private bounty - a hit job! Worse, it was for all names the Empire probably had bounties for already.

Darius pounded a fist on the table, making the datapad jump. 'Sithspit!' he thought cursing himself. 'This is why you never take a job unless you know the details!'

Shaking off his self-directed fury, Darius typed in what he could get from the list as his mind whirred on how he was going to get this done. Secure and remove. There were plenty of ways to do that and the deposit to his account was untraceable which meant no one could prove he'd stolen anything. For all anyone knew, it could've been a generous donation or a mistake. That and there was no timetable given to him either. He could take his time doing this, or earn a bounty on his head too.

After the time had exceeded its limit, Darius removed the data card from the reader and stared at it in his hand. One part of him wanted to throw it away, trash it had wiped itself. But another wanted to keep it in case something else was on it that could be useful. Maybe something some Splicer could use if he needed it.

With a soft sigh, he pocketed the wiped data card and encrypted the list he'd made on his data pad. This was going to be a tough job - not just for who he was being sent after and the security surrounding them, but the thought that he might catch his vod in the crossfire. He had to do this carefully and he had no doubt in his mind this agent would be keeping an eye on him. After all, he'd been able to find him easily enough. Why not keep tabs on him with this mission too?

[captaingondolin]

leia is there and she doesn’t really hang out with them but she’s sometimes just there with wedge. she’s the school president. she’s dating dumbass han solo who buys weed from mirax and looks enough like corran that there’s a running joke they’re the same person, because they have never been seen together, ever. (this is actually a thing in star wars lore that is my favorite thing.) wedge hangs out with leia every weekend. sometimes han and luke are there too.

2/4 wedge and han and corran and mirax and iella all live on the same street and somehow corran interacts with all of them except han (this is also star wars lore. THEY WERE ON THE SAME SHIP but never met, once)

3/ 4 wedge is in the engineering club thingy which is something i used to do and you have to build a mini bridge and then compete with all the other mini bridges from the other schools. wedge’s bridge always wins because he’s wedge antilles, no bridge of his is gonna be a weak ass bridge. pash is also in that club because his dad made him do it as a compromise for also doing football and he likes it because he gets to hang out with wedge and they make a FUCKIN AWESOME BRIDGE

4/4 iella and corran take an elective in forensic science together and have a lot of fun with that! wedge’s classes are all things that he has painstakingly determined will be the best to make him an architect because he is very stubbornly attached to this goal. nawara is in corran and iella’s forensics class and also taking a class on LAW. gavin is like “i don’t know, space? space sounds cool” so he takes astronomy. asyr tries to take french for an easy A but isn’t allowed because she’s from france

lol, i’m absolutely dying at Han and Corran being EVER mistaken for one another. they would both be SO OFFENDED.

awwwww, yes, Wedge and his fucking amazing bridges

ASYR please, you can’t do that, I had a half Swiss kid in school who obviously excelled at German and we all hated him. so. no, Asryr, no.

[girlbossk]

pash cracken, love of my life, 

[ri-writing]

Cassian Andor and the No Good, Very Bad Day

Title: Cassian Andor and the No Good, Very Bad Day Rating: PG?  Mild cursing, and Cassian kills someone Summary: Cassian isn't sure what he did to deserve this punishment, but ultimately, it doesn't matter.  He'll follow orders – even if they are to bring General Cracken's teenage son with him on a mission to purchase a datacard.  At least it's Taanab.  What could go wrong on Taanab? Disclaimer: I have been ficcing it for 20 years, but I still own nothing.

Note - I wrote this originally in December 2016.  I wasn’t planning on really sharing it - it was meant to be me getting Feels out of my system - but there hasn’t been as much R1 stuff on Tumblr lately and that makes me sad.  So this is me trying to add at least one other R1 post to the Tumblr verse.

(Oh, and I really am going to finish that Jyn, Bodhi, and Mon fic.  Promise.)

Dramatis Personae: General Airen Cracken (Alliance Intelligence) Captain Cassian Andor (Alliance Intelligence) Talon Karrde (Smuggler and Information Broker for Car'das organization) Pash Cracken (15 year old kid) Wes Janson (16 year old kid) Approx. 1 BBY Despite what Cracken said, Cassian Andor knew he was being punished for something.  No one was assigned a babysitting mission when they were doing quality work.  He mentally ran through the past few months, but found not one thing that Cracken could realistically take issue with.   He was given jobs.  He got them done.  The Alliance received what they needed.  Open and closed.   And yet, Cassian could find no other rational for being told to take a kid with him than babysitting mission.   Of course it was a babysitting mission, he told himself.  They were on Taanab.  The world was hardly a hotbed of useful information, unless one was particularly excited on the growing conditions of turnips.  Meeting an information broker on this type of world was the sort of thing that not even Cracken's greenest recruit could mess up. Behind him, he heard a crash and shut his eyes.  Correction.  Not even Cracken's greenest recruit could mess it up – unless that recruit was Cracken's own son.  If they didn't look so similar, Cassian would have sworn they could not possibly be related. 

Why Cracken insisted the boy accompany him was beyond Cassian.  The only explanation Cracken gave was: “Pash needs experience.”  Roughly translated, that meant Cracken saw some sort of potential in his son as an intelligence operative. Cassian was quite sure that was wishful thinking on the general's part. Anyone with even the slightest bit of common sense could tell that Pash Cracken would make a terrible spy.  He was hardly the sort who could make himself look forgettable – lanky and awkward, with bright red hair sticking out in several directions, a face full of freckles, and clothes that were just a bit too baggy.  He also had all of no stealth ability.  His track record in the fifteen minutes they'd been off the speeder bus spoke for itself - the kid had managed to knock over three fruit stands and trip over his own feet so many times that Cassian lost count.  How he was going to get the kid through the open air market that lay between him and the meet point for Cracken's contact was a whole other problem.   Steeling himself, he turned to survey the latest round of damage.  Pash was scrambling to collect some sort of bright pink fruit and trying to return it to a stand in front of a grocer.  Nothing looked permanently harmed.  It probably could have been worse.  Probably.  He briefly debated sending the kid back to the speeder bus depot to wait for him.   Tempting as it was, he suspected it would only result in being demoted even further in Cracken's opinion.  The only thing that could be worse than being demoted to babysitting a child and going on a joke of an assignment was having no assignment at all. He'd given up too much for the rebellion to let Pash Cracken be the end of his Intelligence career. “Sorry.”  The kid returned the last of the fruit to the stand, then hurried over to where he was waiting. Cassian gave him a long look, considered ten different ways to chew him out from here until next Sunday, and swallowed all of them.  “We're late.”  He turned back towards the street.  “Don't touch anything else.” Pash fell into step beside him and dutifully shoved his hands in his pockets as if to say See?  Cannot touch.  “Is there anything I should be doing?” “Not touching anything,” Cassian reminded him. “Anything else?”  Pash asked hopefully.  “Is there anyone I'm supposed to look out for?  Suspicious people?  Contacts?” “No.” He turned into the market and prayed to whatever Taanabian deities existed that this would all be over soon. “Should I count red shirts?”  Pash added. Don't ask, Andor.  You don't want to know the answer.  Despite his better judgment, he heard himself do the exact thing he'd decided against half a heartbeat earlier.  “Red shirts?” “Dad says you should always pay attention to your surroundings.  We play this game where we walk through a crowd and, when we're on the other side, I have to tell him how many red shirts I see,” Pash explained, as if these sorts of behaviors were normal father-son bonding activities.  “Sometimes, he changes the color, so I can't get away with planning for the questions in advance.  When we're around pilots, it can also be helmets.” He was right.  He hadn't wanted to know.  “You don't have to count shirts.” “Do you have another lesson I'm supposed to work on?”  Pash asked. “No.” “Captain Andor?”  Pash asked as they began to cut across the market. What could the kid possibly want to ask him now?  Cassian was sure they'd depleted all possible sources of questions.  He suppressed a sigh.  “Yes?” “Dad said we're picking up some information about Imperial shipments from someone who works for Jorj Car'das.”  Pash said. Cassian's shoulders tensed.  Why not announce it to the entire planet? At least, he reminded himself, no one on Taanab cared what they were doing.  He'd seen all of three stormtroopers since landing.  All three were lazily resting with planetary control officers at customs checkpoints in the spaceport.  Even the Empire knew there was nothing of use to the Rebellion on Taanab.  Nonetheless, it was stupid to tempt fate.  Cassian ground his teeth together and made a mental note to explain how the galaxy worked to Pash Cracken once they were back on base.  “Yes.” “That doesn't make any sense.”  Pash frowned.   “Car'das – he's got connections to the Empire.  What's to stop him from selling us out?  They'd know what shipments we'd be targeting, and could set a trap.  You don't actually trust him, do you?” Cassian could count the people he trusted on one hand without using all his fingers – and even one of those people was a droid.  “Of course not.” “So then why....oh.”  Pash said as they came to a stop outside an old building bearing the sign Ye Olde Ale Hall.  “You're counting on Car'das selling us out.”  He looked thoughtful as he worked through it.  “The Imperials will be looking for a raid at the wrong places, meaning it'll be easier to go after a different target.” He had to hand it to the kid.  He'd started seeing different ways information could be used.  Cassian nodded once.  “Something like that. Now, listen.  You.”  He gestured at Pash, “Are going to wait here.  I'm going to go in and talk with this contact.” Pash pouted, looking even younger than his fifteen years.  “Why can't I come?” Because my orders didn't say you had to meet Car'das, and I can't trust you not to blow this.  “Because I told you to wait here.”  He stuck the boy with a look.  “I could have told you to wait at the depot.” Pash sighed in what Cassian defined as 'that privileged obnoxious teenager way,' but leaned against the side of the building and got comfortable. “And don't talk to anyone.”  Cassian added. “You won't let me do anything, so no chance of that happening,” Pash muttered under his breath.  He crossed his arms against his chest, but stayed put. For half a heartbeat, he wondered if keeping the kid outside was safest.  He didn't know what was happening inside, but, if he brought Pash with him, at least he could put himself between danger and the child that he was supposed to ensure did not die.  At the same time, he also wasn't sure what to expect from anyone associated with Jorj Car'das.  A man did not get a reputation for brutality for no reason, and that sort of man would value others who shared his opinions on those types of topics.  Cassian took one last look around the small central city.  There were mothers pushing strollers, people buying vegetables, and a teenage boy trying to impress a group of girls by a nearby fountain.  Not exactly a war zone.  It's Taanab.  He reminded himself.  How much trouble can one teenager get into in a farmer's market on Taanab?  “Stay here.”  He repeated as he ducked inside the door. He'd expected some sort of hole in the wall or seedy bar.  Instead, he found a sparsely populated, halfway decent restaurant.  A few nicely dressed Bothans were holding some sort of business meeting over a meal in one corner.  A young couple appeared to have opted for an afternoon caf as a first date, while a man with thick black hair and a shirt that likely cost more than Cassian's entire life perused a wine list at the bar.   A woman in a waitress uniform had even taken up residence at a large table inside the door and appeared to be doing schoolwork.   For the first time in a long time, Cassian found he didn't belong.   How, he wondered, had no one bothered to include this information in his orders?  While he should have known that anything safe enough for Cracken's son to tag along on wouldn't be the sorts of places he normally frequented, someone should have warned him to at least bring a jacket that didn't look like it had been to a war zone. “Ah.”  The man with the wine list laid it down on the counter.  “Something tells me you're looking for me.” Cassian nodded.  “If you're waiting for Schopf.”   “I was.”  The man gave him a thin smile, then asked conversationally, “Will he be joining us?” “Unfortunately, he won't be able to make it.”  It was, after all, quite difficult to make a meeting when you're dead.  Another good man.   Another mission incomplete. “I'm sorry to hear that.”  The man did look sorry.  “He had a rare appreciation for good food.”  He pushed the wine list across the bar and fixed his full attention on Cassian.   “So.”  This time, the man's smile carried all the way up to his ice blue eyes, “What can Jorj Car'das do for you?” There was no way this man was Car'das.  He was too young – at most, only a few years older than Cassian.  A lackey, then.  He wasn't sure if that was better or worse.  It didn't matter; his personal feelings on the issue weren't important.  “I understand you have shipping records.” “Ah.   Yes.”  The man motioned to the bartender to pour him a glass from the bottle she was holding.  “Do you enjoy wine, Mr. …?” “Not particularly.”  Cassian replied. “That's a shame.  They have a local variety on world that is quite good.”  The man watched him carefully.  When Cassian didn't react, he shook his head slightly, as if disappointed.  “Well then.  Shipping.” Shipping schedules for Imperial supply freighters.  “Yes.” “I hear it's a booming market out there these days.”  The man picked up his wine glass and sniffed at it as if they were in a vineyard tasting room and not a building alongside a street market.  “Cargoes going everywhere, comprised of every sort of thing imaginable.” “So I've heard.”  Cassian agreed. He tasted the wine and smiled slightly.  “Good vintage.”  He set the glass on the edge of the bar and gave Cassian his full attention once more.  “Well then, down to business.  I'm afraid I'll have to ask for cash.  Car'das is a bit behind the times and refuses to deal with accounts.”   “Cash is fine.”  Cash didn't leave a paper trail.   Cassian couldn't imagine anyone would be stupid enough to pay by account – especially since that account information could easily be sold to the highest bidder.  “Assuming you've got what was promised Schopf.” “If I didn't, I wouldn't be a very good businessman.”  He smiled again.  “You can't honestly think we're all savages.” Businessmen.  Was that what they were calling themselves these days? Before he had a chance to respond, his contact's comlink chirped.  The man gave him an apologetic look, murmured, “Excuse me one moment,” and motioned for Cassian to check out the datacard before directing his attention to the comlink. “Go ahead.” Cassian pulled his datapad out and slid the card into it.  Pages of dates, shipment numbers, and freighter IDs sprung to life.  He pretended to inspect it as he tried to catch what he could of the conversation. “And what sort of shape are they in?”  Car'das' man asked.  Cassian strained his ears to try to catch the other voice, but the comlink's sound was turned down just low enough that, to anyone even slightly outside the range, it sounded like nothing but a garbled mess.  “Ah.  Yes, I'm interested.”  The man said softly.  “Tell Ms. Hallik I'm finishing up with a client, but I'd like to meet her and see if we could do business.  Say – an hour?  Thank you.”  Stowing the comlink, he turned back to Cassian.  “Sorry about that.  One of my colleagues stumbled upon a potentially profitable deal.  I trust the datacards are acceptable.” He couldn't see anything wrong with them.  The information certainly looked legit.  Cassian nodded and handed the stack of credits over to Schopf's contact. The man smiled genteelly as he pocketed the money.  “A pleasure.  If you'll excuse me?” Yes, go find a new home for whatever spice or guns someone wants to sell you.  Cassian nodded at him.  He withdrew the datacard from his datapad and stashed it in an inner pocket to his coat.   “Oh,” the man laid a few cred chips on the bar to cover his tab, “One more thing, Captain Andor.  If you're interested in doing business in the future, just contact the owner of this establishment and ask her to put you in touch with Sabacc.  She'll be able to arrange whatever meetings are necessary.” Cassian blinked.  His mind tried to put the pieces together – tried to figure out how Sabacc (what kind of a name was Sabacc anyway?) knew the first thing about him – and reached two potential solutions: either Schopf had mentioned him (possible) or there was a mole in Alliance Intelligence (something he did not want to consider but now had to).  His potential new contact smiled once more as he slid his hands into his pockets and walked towards the door.   Cassian had half a mind to tail the man before he remembered the flaw in that plan.  It was going to be impossible to tail anyone with Pash Cracken tagging along.  He sighed to himself, then pushed away from the bar.  Finding out more about Sabacc-the-man would have to wait.  At least, he told himself as he crossed the restaurant once more, the mission was technically a success.  He had the information.  No one had died.  He wasn't sitting in an infirmary somewhere.  All things considered, it was better than most of the things he did for the Alliance. He blinked in the sudden brightness of the sun as he stepped outside and turned towards where he left Pash.  The wall the kid been holding up earlier was now standing just fine on its own.  Damn.  What part of stay here had been that hard to understand?  Cassian spotted the kid a moment later, standing by a nearby vegetable vendor with the boy from the fountain as they poured over a magazine.  The boys' eyes were wide as they stared at the images. Pathetic.  The Galaxy's Worst Spy could not only not understand the concept of orders, but was easily distracted by a skin magazine.  Cassian strolled towards the kids.  The other boy pointed at something in the magazine they held between them, and Pash nodded enthusiastically.  Cassian snatched it from their hands.  Rolling it up, he glared at his charge.  “I thought I told you not talk to anyone.” Pash frowned.  “I thought you meant people who could be dangerous.” “Anyone,” Cassian repeated. “But,” Pash tried again, “Wes had a magazine about TIE fighters,” he said as if that made it all better. How was he even supposed to respond to that?  How?  Wordlessly, Cassian unrolled the magazine.  Imperial propaganda images stared back at him. He wasn't sure if that was better or worse than a skin magazine.   Deciding that was Airen Cracken's problem, he shoved the magazine into the inner pocket of his coat.   “Is this your dad?”  The other kid (apparently Wes: owner of TIE magazines) piped up.  “Maybe he can help us.”  He looked up at Cassian for a moment, then asked, “How do you get girls to talk to you?  I've tried 'hi,'” he began counting on his fingers, “And compliments, and jokes.  And my new buddy here said he tries to talk with them about spaceships-” “We're leaving.”  Cassian interrupted.   “But this is important information,” Wes protested. Cassian ignored him.  Motioning at Pash to follow him, he started into the market once more.  “Sorry.”  Pash muttered over his shoulder at his new friend. “Bye Pash,” Wes called after them as they rounded the corner of the building.  “Bye, Mr. Cracken.” Cassian froze.  Beside him, he felt Pash falter at the sudden stop. “What's wrong?”  Pash looked around the market in confusion. “You told him your name?”  Cassian asked softly. “Yes?”  Pash's confusion doubled. Cassian resisted the urge to find the nearest wall and repeatedly bang his head against it.  Airen Cracken's son thought telling people who he was ranked among his better ideas.  Tilting his head back, he stared at the sky and counted slowly backwards from ten.  What kind of idiot...?   He grabbed Pash by the back of his jacket and pulled him behind the nearest building.  Seeing the empty alleyway, he turned to face the kid.  “Listen.  When you aren't on Contruum, or with your father, and someone asks you your name, give a fake one.” “I'm a nobody,” Pash reminded him.  “It's not like I'm Bail Organa.  My name is as worthless as if it was John Antilles.” Cassian lowered his voice, “Do you have any idea how valuable you would be to the Imperials?  Your father liberated a planet.  He's helped set up resistance cells across the galaxy.  He's one of the biggest thorns in the Empire's side.  What do you think would happen if they could get their hands on you?” Judging by the look on Pash's face, he never thought that through before.  And, Cassian suspected, right about now, he was probably trying to envision how his father would rescue him should the unthinkable happen.  For half a moment, he considered letting Pash keep his childish illusions...but he couldn't.  Cracken clearly thought it was a good idea to send Pash with one of his operatives.  Pash needed to know what that meant. “Best case scenario?”  Cassian told him, “They kill you quickly.  Most likely, though, they'll slowly torture you to get every bit of information you might possibly know.  You'd be surprised how much valuable information is already in your brain – things your father told you, things you've overheard, things about your family.  You might tell yourself that you would never tell them – we like to think that – but you will.  In the end, you will.  Everyone always does.  And after they've gotten everything out of you, after you've betrayed each and every secret you have, they will kill you.  I can see what you're thinking, but before you kid yourself that there's a rescue coming, it's not.  You aren't valuable to the Rebellion.  Your father might love you – he might even be willing to die for you - but he can't send dozens of good men to their deaths to rescue someone who doesn't gain the Rebellion anything.  They capture you.  They torture you.  They kill you.  That is the only way it ends.”  Cassian watched as Pash's face continued to lose color with each word he heard.  When he still didn't speak, Cassian added, “Do you understand?” Silently, Pash swallowed, then nodded. “Good.”  He held up two fingers.  “Next lesson.  Unless you are on base, never imagine for a second that you are safe.  To the average person, Taanab is not dangerous.  It's a farming world and Imperial oversight is lax.  Just because they're lax, doesn't mean you are, because your stakes,” he pushed a finger into Pash's chest, “Are too high.  You have everything to lose.  The moment you forget that, or discount that?  Is the moment you put yourself and your team at risk.   And if your commanding officer gives you an order, you follow it unless you have a damn good reason not to.  Do you understand?” Pash nodded again. “Good.”  Cassian turned towards the entrance to the alley.  “Let's go. Do not touch anything.  Do not talk to anyone.  Stay by me.” For the first time all day, Pash obeyed, no questions asked.  The boy did not make a single peep as they waited for the speeder bus.  He didn't even kick at the pebbles in front of his feet.  Most of the time, he hung his head and stared at his shoes.  Given what he'd seen so far from Pash Cracken, Cassian doubted it was an act.  He almost felt sympathy for the boy, but pushed it away.   Airen Cracken wanted Pash to learn about intelligence work.  Cassian had told him what that meant.  The sooner Pash came to terms with how war worked – with how the galaxy worked – the better.  People didn't survive long in this sort of work.  The ones who made it a little longer than most knew how to play the game, knew how to avoid stupid mistakes, and knew how to think on their feet.  It didn't matter how many red shirts there were.  It mattered whether you got the information you needed into the hands of the person who needed it. Period. The end. The transport bus slid to a stop in front of them and its doors whispered open.  Cassian motioned for Pash to climb aboard, then dropped two cred chips into the bin in the front of the vehicle.  A cold blast of air conditioning hit him in the face.  Who, he wondered, felt the need for air conditioning on a day like today?  It didn't matter.  In thirty minutes, they'd be at the spaceport.  He could probably get a slot to leave within an hour after that. His time babysitting was drawing to a close. Cassian leaned back in his seat and propped his knees on the back of the seat ahead of him.  He resisted the urge to pull out his datapad and scroll through the information they'd purchased from Car'das to find anything of use.  Whatever was there wasn't his business unless someone higher up decided it was.  Considering how far he'd fallen, he doubted anyone wanted to trust him with any sort of useful information at the moment. Beside him, Pash looked out the window and shivered.   Cassian watched him – watched the stubborn look building around the kid's eyes – and then shrugged out of his jacket.  “Here.” Pash looked at him. “I'm warm,” he offered by way of explanation. Pash took the jacket and pulled it on with a mumbled, “Thanks.” “Guard that with your life.”  Cassian told him. “Because it's your favorite?”  Pash asked. “No.”  Cassian tapped the side of the jacket with the datacard.  “Because it has my cred chips and your magazine.” Pash nodded and zipped the jacket as if this would keep everything safe.  It would, Cassian had to admit, protect against pickpockets.  He hoped that the kid had done it for that reason.  It would show risk management – or at least thinking.   “When we get to the ship,” Pash finally spoke, “Can I do anything to help you?” “You can com home and let them know we're en route,” Cassian told him. “I can fly.”  Pash's session of silence was apparently over.  He should never have given the kid his coat.  It wasn't meant as a silent everything between us is fine now.  It was a I don't want to explain to the man who holds the future of my career in his hands how you died of hypothermia. “Can and will are two different things,” Cassian replied as the transport came to a stop.  “I'll fly.  You'll be on communications.”  He tapped Pash on the shoulder.  “This is us.” The spaceport was slightly busier than it had been when they arrived.  While that wasn't saying much, “busy” on Taanab did come with a line all of seven people long at the Customs station.  Cassian let his gaze sweep over the others, picking out five cargo pilots, an employee for a civilian transport company, and a kid not much older than Pash dressed in a coat with a crop dusting logo on the back.  A discussion broke out over the transport company employee's papers, and Cassian leaned against the metal railing for the line area to wait.   “Is it okay if I read?”  Pash asked.   Cassian nodded – it wasn't as if Pash could get in trouble reading – and watched as the kid pulled out his magazine and flipped it open.  Now that he was paying attention to it, he could see the logo of the Imperial Flight Academy on Carida blazoned on the front.  Of course, Cassian thought bitterly, It had to be Carida.  Pash looked at it with the sort of rapt awe that Cassian had only seen on the faces of religious fanatics.  Remembering the kid's requests to fly their shuttle, he asked, “You want to be a pilot?”   “Yup.” Pash nodded as he turned a page.  “As soon as I turn seventeen, I'm going to apply.  My simulator scores are already better than most cadets' and my scores in mathematics are on track.  Carida is my top choice – they have the greatest variety of programs – but Dad says Vensenor is a better program for pure flight training.” Pash needs experience.  Cassian felt something settle in his stomach as he watched Pash read about Imperial starfighters.  Sweet Force.  Cracken wasn't planning to send Pash into the field to do what Cassian and countless others did.   He was planting a mole into the Imperial military. “Next.”  The Customs officer called out. “We're after her.”  Cassian tried to keep his voice neutral as he played through the implications of Cracken's plan.  “Find your travel papers.” What sort of man sent his own child into the Rancor's pit?   You've been fighting since you were younger than Pash.  Cassian told the voice in his mind to be quiet.  That was different.   When he joined the fight, he didn't have a family.  There hadn't been anyone left to look out for him.   The woman who had been talking with the Customs officer moved off into the spaceport.  The officer waved at them to step forward.  “Papers?” Cassian handed his over and waited for Pash to retrieve his from the rear pocket of his pants.  He made a mental note to explain the importance of stashing papers in places from which they could not be easily stolen to Pash on the ride home. “Name?”  The Customs officer looked bored. “Britt Dorset,” Cassian matched the officer's bored tone. “I'm Jon.”  Pash put in. The officer glanced at their photos, then at them.  “Your kid?” “Nephew.”  Cassian offered. “Purpose on world?”  The officer began stamping the documents. “Picking up a shipment of turnips.”  Cassian replied. The Customs officer nodded once, then passed them their documents.   “You're good to go.  See Control on the second floor about scheduling an exit window.” “Can I meet you at the ship?”  Pash asked as they moved into the spaceport.  “I want to see if I can do the calculations for the nav computer and then compare them with yours.  For practice.” Cassian tried to find the catch to that.  The spaceport was pretty dead.  It wasn't that far to the shuttle.  The kid wanted to do math – and Cassian believed he was being truthful about that.  “Sure.”  He handed Pash a control chip.  “Just lock it up once you're on board and don't let anyone until I get back.” He waited until Pash disappeared in the direction of the shuttle before taking the stairs to Traffic Control.  Several rounds of paperwork – the boring predictable sort – and the traditional bribe, and he had an exit slot within the hour.  It would have been perfect except that, upon returning to the ship, he was greeted with a locked hull and no Pash.   You have got to be kidding me.  Cassian stared at the hull of the ship and wondered how – how – he'd let himself be played by a fifteen year old kid.  He was the galaxy's greatest idiot.  No wonder Cracken no longer trusted him.  He was dumb enough to believe a fifteen year old actually wanted to do math. “Are you looking for the redhead boy?” Cassian turned and saw an older man leaning against a pile of crates and smoking a pipe.  “Yes.” “He went off with the Roat boys.”  The old man pointed at Cassian with his pipe. He didn't know who the Roat boys were.  He found he didn't care.  All he knew was that he was going to make that kid's life a nightmare from now until they arrived back with the Alliance.  “I don't believe it,” Cassian muttered. “Oh, believe it,” the man told him.  “If it helps, he didn't really have much of a choice in the matter.  They jumped him right quick.  Can't say I'm surprised after all that nonsense with his old man.” Cassian felt himself turn cold.  There was bad, and then there was bad.  Pash Cracken being made as Pash Cracken – someone taking Pash Cracken because of Airen Cracken – that was about as bad as it could get.  Cassian bit back a growl.  Apparently, Pash's little revelation in the market did not go unnoticed.  “Which way did they go.” “Can't seem to remember.” Cassian held up his last cred chip. “Just remembered.”  The man pocketed the chip.  “Their ship is docked in Bay 17.” A quick check of the spaceport map revealed Bay 17 was one of the furthest landing bays from the center of the spaceport.  Of course it was.  The sort of people who abducted children weren't going to do their dirty work where anyone could see them.  If they were smart, they were also the sort who wouldn't hang around long. He ran. He ran because he needed to return Pash in one piece to keep his place in the Rebellion.  He ran because he had orders and he'd be damned if some thugs named Roat were going to keep him from following them.  He ran because Pash was a stupid, naive, privileged little idiot, and some damn foolish part of Cassian wanted the boy to stay that way – to stay a child even if it was just for a few more months. He needn't have worried about the Roats leaving Taanab.  When he reached Bay 17, he found stacks of crates, some as high as the ship, that were either being loaded or unloaded.  For now, they were forgotten.  For half a heartbeat, Cassian wondered if the bay was deserted or if he had been misled.  Then he heard the voices. Walking around the crates, unarmed, to confront people who almost certainly were not in compliance with Taanab's spaceport blaster restriction laws did not seem like a good way to recover his charge.   Cassian glanced at the piles of crates, mentally measuring the heights of various stacks against the height of the ship.  If he could get above them, he might be able to jump them.... He climbed. It was, as climbs were concerned, one of the easier ones.  The crates were large and stable, despite not being tied down or otherwise attached to anything.  At a height of about one standard story, he was able to transition from the boxes to the wing of the ship, and from there, crawl along the wing towards the voices near the back of the ship. “But that's what I'm trying to tell you,” Pash was saying as Cassian peered over the back edge of the wing.  “ I'm not Jon Dorset.  I'm not even from Taanab.”  He looked between two scrappy looking thugs, neither of whom had been anywhere near a sink for days and both of whom held battered blasters. “You're a terrible liar,” the thug on Pash's left said.  “We saw you in the market.  Don't look at me like that.  Everyone knows you run with the Janson kid.  How many redheaded friends do you think Janson has?  Mort here was even behind you in line when you went through Customs.” The thug on the right, obviously the “Mort” in question, looked down at Pash at sneered.  “Yeah.  How dumb do you think we are?” “Next he's going to tell us his daddy really doesn't have any money,” the other thug joked, waving a blaster under Pash's nose.  Pash's eyes somehow managed to get even larger. Cassian rolled onto his back and took stock of the situation.  It was not good.  If K-2 was here, he could give Cassian a percentage of 'not good,' but Cassian was going to take a stab in the dark and say it was 100% not good.   Alliance intelligence had messed up.  Their names were supposed to be objects of fantasy, but either sloppy work or failed research resulted in Intelligence giving at least Pash the name of a real Taanabian.  Worse yet, it was the name of a Taanabian that he resembled and that petty criminals cared about.  Cassian silently hoped Jon Dorset was worth more alive than dead – and that the men would give him an opening to reclaim his teenage charge. Mort looked at Pash, who was doing a good job of saying nothing, and cycled through several more sneers.  “Not so clever now, are ya?”  Another four versions of sneer crossed his mouth. He caught his partner's eye and jerked his thumb around the back of his ship.  “Load him in the speeder.  I'll contact his father.” Cassian ran through a quick mental catalog of what he had available to him for use as a weapon.  It turned up nothing useful – no knives, no sharp implements...he didn't even have his coat any longer.   Beneath him, the remaining thug was waving the blaster in the direction of the speeder and ordering Pash inside.  If that happened, his chances of recovering a breathing Pash Cracken went down dramatically.  Don't get in the speeder.  Don't get in the speeder.   Pash hesitated. “Kid, don't make me tell you again.”  The thug's slid the safety off the blaster.  “Mort might want money from your dad, but I'm fine with my revenge the old fashioned way.” He was done waiting. The drop wasn't as bad as it could have been.  Landing on the thug helped.  And then there was nothing – no emotions, no pain – just simple, basic flashes from his senses.  The clatter as the blaster fell to the floor.  The hard muscles in the back of the other man.  The flash of light against metal as his opponent drew a knife.  The crack of ligaments as he manipulated the wrist of the knife hand.  The way the knife bit into the skin of his arm as he tried to wrest it away.  The heavy breathing as his opponent moved to throw him.  The feel of a clean snap as he broke the neck of the other man. And then it was over, and Cassian found himself staggering backwards from his opponent. He was aware that his breath was ragged, and that his heart was racing, and that less than a minute had passed since he leapt from the top of the ship's wing.  Regaining his footing, he straightened and looked at Pash. The kid's eyes were huge.  They moved from Cassian, to the body on the floor, and back to Cassian.  His right hand, Cassian noted, clutched the blaster the thug had dropped.  “Is he...?” “Yes.” He retrieved the knife from where it had fallen and set to work cutting a sleeve off the thug's shirt.  He didn't even want to think about how the gash on his arm was going to feel once the adrenaline began to wear off.  Thrusting the fabric at Pash, he pulled back his own sleeve.  “I need you to cover the wound, and bind it with this.” For a long moment, it looked like Pash was going to do nothing more than stare at the corpse.  Then he blinked once, grabbed the stripped away sleeve, and pressed it against Cassian's forearm.  “How much pressure?”  He began to wrap the makeshift bandage. “I'll let you know if its too tight.”  It was starting to hurt already.  Damn.  He couldn't get a good look at it, but he knew it was bad if it hurt already.  Cassian waited in silence until the bandage was tied off.  As long as the knife hadn't gotten an artery, that should hold until they got back to the spaceport.  If the knife had caught an artery, well, then it wouldn't matter. “Here.”  Pash shrugged out of Cassian's coat and held it out to him.   “This is bulky enough that it should hide the, uh, bandage so we won't attract attention on the way back to the ship.” It was a little less bulky on him than on Pash, but at least the kid was thinking.   Careful of the arm, Cassian pulled the coat on, then motioned to Pash with his good hand.  “Okay.  Good work.  We're leaving.”  He took three steps, watched the world swim, paused, then shut his eyes.  “Kid?” “Yes?” “When you said you knew how to fly a shuttle,” while asking me to let you fly every five minutes on the way here, “How much experience do you have?” “I've been doing solo flights in a Z95 since I was twelve.”  Pash told him.  “Are you going to let me fly?” “No.”  Cassian said gruffly.  “But if I pass out on the way out of here, then you are allowed to fly.” ~*~ “Are you sure you don't want to use Bacta patches for this?”  The medic set down a metal tray on to the table.   Cassian cast a look at the suture needles and thread on the tray, then made a point of looking anywhere but at the tray.  “Positive.”  Bacta patches might be painless, but they were also not as plentiful on bases as the more archaic methods of healing.  “It's just a scratch.” “It'll probably be a good twelve stitches.”  The medic corrected him coolly.  “You're lucky your assailant didn't nick anything important.”  When he merely held out his arm in response, she shook her head once, then got to work cleaning the wound. He tried to ignore the pain and concentrate on developing a decent explanation for why a routine pick up had gone wrong.   Sometime around the fourth pass of the needle through his skin, he had to admit the worst: there was no good way to spin your kid almost died on my watch to a commanding officer. There was also a good chance this was the end.  Cassian shut his eyes and kept his teeth clenched together.  He still wasn't sure what he'd done to get this unofficial demotion, but the day's events had surely cemented whatever poor opinions Cracken and the others must have had of him.   This job was all he had.  This fight was all he had.  Everything had been lost or taken or given in the name of this cause.   It would all be for nothing. “How bad was it?”  Airen Cracken's gruff voice interrupted the silence.  Cassian opened his eyes to see the general just inside the room, his shoulder leaning against the wall. “Twelve stitches.”  The medic replied as she finished a knot on the sutures.  “But the wound wasn't dangerously deep.  He'll live.” Cassian gave her a wane smile and reached for his sleeve. “Don't even think about it, Captain.”  The medic stuck him with the sort of stern look he always imagined school headmistresses would perfect for unruly students.  “That shirt is filthy.  Unless you'd like to be back in here with an infection?” He dropped his hand back to his lap. Cracken gave the medic a tired smile as he pushed himself upright.  “Do you mind if we use the room for a few minutes?” “As long as you make sure he doesn't try to roll down that sleeve,” the medic waved a hand in Cassian's direction, “Be my guest.” As Cracken took up the spot that the medic vacated, Cassian found himself subconsciously reaching for his sleeve, only to stop under Cracken's gaze.  He forced his hand away again and his chin to stay up.  He opened his mouth to report, only to have Cracken hold up a hand.  “Pash filled me in.” Cassian took a moment to run that through his mind before choosing the neutral response of, “I see.” “Not exactly how I expected things to go.”  Cracken continued. It was the sort of moment where someone could use the phrases “I can explain” or “I'm sorry.”  Either of those phrases implied guilt, however, so Cassian said nothing. Cracken sighed heavily and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the small table.  “I just thank the Force you were the one with him.” Cassian blinked.  That was not exactly the direction he expected the conversation to go.  “Sir?” Cracken favored him with a tired look.  “I suspect you're wondering why I pulled you from your typical roster of assignments to accompany a fifteen year old.”  He rubbed at his temples, then leaned back in his chair once more.  “Pash is a prodigy at military spaceflight.  He was better than me by the time he was thirteen.  He can beat any of the old simulator scenarios we have, and he's likely better than at least half of the military grade pilots we've got in the Rebellion.  What he's not good at is espionage.” “He told me about the flight academy,” Cassian offered. Cracken blinked.  “He told you?”  He sighed heavily and shook his head.  “Figures.  Yes, I plan on sending him to one of the flight academies if I think he can handle it.  We're setting up some small training ops for him – things like spending a month at a boarding school here or several weeks in a group home there.  They're ways for him to practice being someone else without the stakes being quite so high – and tests to make sure he won't make the sort of mistake that could end his life.” The several hours he'd had to mull over the idea of Cracken using his own son as a spy hadn't given Cassian any additional guidance on how to feel about that.  Part of him wanted to shake the man and tell him how lucky he was to have a normal family, and that he needed to do everything he could to never, ever risk that.  Another part of him had to admit that planting a mole Cracken knew he could trust was smart.   Neither of those thoughts were thoughts he could voice, so he chose to stick to the practical aspects.  “He's not going to be like your regular operatives.  He sees life as black and white.” “He's young.”   Cracken nodded.  “Fortunately, he just has to attend classes and fly fighters and keep an ear to the ground.  And when the time comes...well, he's starting to have his eyes opened to the realities of war.”   Yes, watching a man get his neck snapped had that effect on a person.   Cassian wasn't about to share that thought either, and returned to the safely neutral response of, “I see.” Cracken studied him a moment, then announced, “I'm looking for people to act as handlers.” “Handlers,” he repeated. “People to train Pash, get him ready.  Make sure he knows how to take care of himself.  Make sure he learns how to blend in and cover his tracks.  Make sure he understands what he's getting into before it's too late.  Make sure he stays alive.”  Cracken continued.  “I was wondering if you had anyone you'd recommend.” Cracken meant him.  Cassian took a moment to consider the implications.  What he'd seen as a demotion was, in fact, an audition - one he'd apparently passed with flying colors.  There was probably some sort of promotion in it.  It was most definitely meant to be some sort of honor.  At the end of the day, though, he couldn't see himself spending the next two years grooming a kid for a long term undercover op.  There were better ways he could be useful.  “I'd recommend Lena Cavert.  She's smart, trustworthy, and has a fair bit of undercover experience thanks to her days at CorSec.” If Cracken was surprised, he didn't show it.  He merely picked up a pencil and jotted the name down on a piece of flimsy, as if he had just heard it and hadn't been speaking with the woman the day before.   “That's a good recommendation.  Anyone else you can think of?” “If I was going to send my son into an enemy stronghold, I'd want Cavert training him,” Cassian replied. Cracken was silent a long moment.  Finally, he climbed to his feet.   “Draven has a neutralization assignment on his desk.”  The unspoken care to reconsider hung in the air. No one liked neutralization work.  It was a necessary evil – and the sort he'd do dozens of times over during the two years he could be spending training Pash Cracken to infiltrate the Imperial military.  He tried to imagine switching from ops to training, what it would be like to work behind the scenes and play an occasional character role if the situation required it.  It was a relatively safe assignment – and a relatively unmessy one.  And it was all to get one kid ready to do one thing two years from now.  There was too much to do now.  Cassian cleared his throat.  “Thank you, sir.  I'll report to him once we're back on world.” Notes: - There’s a lot of conflicting information on Pash’s age.  Based on his story arc pre-RotJ, I calculated he'd have been born 15 or 16 ABY.  *shrug* - Janson was one of the younger pilots at Yavin (despite not getting to fly because he was ill).  I have him about Pash's age here. - Cassian suspects Car'das's organization would sell them out.   Ironically, he deals with Karrde, who wouldn't have done so, as selling people out is terrible for business.  Also “Sabacc Card” seemed to me like the type of absolutely horrible pun Karrde would love. - The “count the red shirts” game is taken from Psych, where the main character's father would have him count hats.  I used red shirts because...red shirts. - Liana Hallik was one of Jyn Erso's pseudonyms.  In about a year, “Liana” will be arrested for, inter alia, having weapons she shouldn't. - Johnny Dorset is the name of the kidnapped child in 'The Ransom of Red Chief.' - When I originally wrote that Pash had a brochure for the Imperial Academy on Carida, I did not know of Cassian's family connection to it. It actually came from some old Pash-centric stuff I'd written that he'd wanted to go there, but ended up elsewhere and just re-used it.  The Universe apparently decided this was Meant To Be.       

[keeve-trenniis]

Anyway this all started over tycho's supernova and 100% is @pash-cracken 's fault

[corelliaxdreaming]

Title: Rebel Redhead Fandom/Setting: Star Wars Legends, Legends/Jedi: Fallen Order Characters/Ships: Tycho Celchu/Pash Cracken; Pash Cracken/Cal Kstis, BD-1 Rating: G Words: 1,073 Summary: Three short ficlets where Pash gets some love. In two, he commiserates with Tycho during and after his trial. In the unrelated third, he awkwardly flirts with a shy Cal. Note: A drop of a trio of ficlets I wrote two years ago back when @leiasighwalker was determined to make me ship Pash with everyone. :)

( Rebel Redhead )

[incorrectstarwarslegendsquotes]

It's just God punishing me because I'm a ginger.

half the fucking EU

[maryellencarter]

so @corelliaxdreaming​ put 48 star wars characters into a hunger games simulator, and the results were entertaining (Snap Wexley fell out of a tree onto Hobbie and killed them both! WHY IS THIS SO FUNNY TO ME), so I was like “I will do the thing also!” So here is the link to the generator, and here is my cast list:

Wedge Antilles, Tycho Celchu, Wes Janson, Hobbie Klivian, Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Han Solo, Chewbacca, Corran Horn, Erisi Dlarit, Mara Jade, Kirney Slane, Myn Donos, Face Loran, Piggy saBinring, Ton Phanan, Asyr Sei’lar, Gavin Darklighter, Mirax Terrik, Iella Wessiri, Kell Tainer, Falynn Sandskimmer, Shalla Nelprin, Tyria Sarkin...

...that’s 24, I’m not sure I *have* 48 characters if I stick to pilots and pilot-adjacent characters? It seems weird to throw in, like, Thrawn or somebody...

...Plourr Ilo, Koyi Komad, Xarcce Huwla, Dia Passik, Nawara Ven, Rhysati Ynr, Lujayne Forge, Inyri Forge, Poe Dameron, Squeaky, Pash Cracken, Castin Donn...

...jesus. This is hard fucking work...

...Elassar Targon, Dorset Konnair, Jesmin Ackbar, Snap Wexley, Jek Porkins, Biggs Darklighter, Bror "Bro" Jace, Tetengo Noor, Target Nu, Tal'dira, Runt Ekwesh, Sharr Latt. HOLY FUCKING MACARONI I DID IT!

Stay tuned for updates? :-) "star wars hunger games" to block/track the tag

[knightedrogue]

Hey KR. I just wanna say how much I LOVED your 5 installment NRI series. That was so 2008 but I thought that was really badaass. That series was always so concise and each case that Undercover/Detective Han and Leia tackles always leaves everything to the imagination that I had so many questions about what happened between the lines. Any chance of you continuing that series? Or are there headcanons of your that changed between then and now?

Hi there, anon! I loved writing the NRI series (and am, in a way, STILL writing it!) For clarification purposes, I’ll put it all in order below in story-order so that everyone knows where to find the fics in question.

The NRI series was born out of a desperate need to have a different career for Han and Leia. As you pointed out, it was so 2008: we were neck-deep in Expanded Universe adventures in which Han and Leia were a married pilot-team, kicking ass and being pretty damn adorable. So college-me made them spies and it was fun and sexy and I had a blast.

But then I realized that the fun parts of this AU were NOT the missions (as I showed in the vignettes), or the end of their careers (shown in “Urdur”) but the beginning of the whole thing. “Mighty Things” grew out of a desire to show how Han (but especially Leia) got into these positions in the first place. And if you’ve been with me for the past decade or so, you know that I abandoned MT for about seven years in the middle of it. After TFA I was called back (because I despise what Disney has done to our OT trio) and finished MT. 

And then last year I started a three-part story called “Ride” as a kind of follow-up to MT. It’s not finished–I had to focus on C&P–but that will be finished in the next few weeks. To be honest, I love MT-Han and Leia so much that I doubt I will ever be totally done with them. I DO have a headcanon for their post-NRI lives that I want to write someday. That one will show Han and Leia as NRI trainers, working to build up the next generation of agents without having to do the work themselves. Sometimes I play around with Leia actually becoming NRI director (Pash Cracken, who?), but that’s so far into the future of the AU that it hasn’t solidified. 

And, too, I wanted to give one more little nugget: NRI Han and Leia adopt children. I see them foregoing having biological children in order to make a big difference in a few orphans lives, children with whom they’ve met or interacted with during their time on NRI missions. I don’t know how many, I don’t know how old, I don’t know their names, But NRI Leia has always felt very resistant to Jedi training and very afraid of her own genetic power. NRI Han and Leia are grounded in the desire to help individual people, and I think adopting goes into that philosophy like hand in glove. So! The NRI series is still alive. If you missed any of the stories or want to revisit them, I’ve put links to them all in order below. Please keep in mind that these have been written over the course of the past 12 years or so: some are going to read more like my current work, some are going to look a little more raw. But I hope you enjoy them and stick with me as I wrap up “Ride” in the next few weeks! 

The NRI series (in story-order):

Mighty Things

Dark Corners (this was requested by readers of MT and takes place before the events in that fic)

Ride

Solo’s Girl

Of Bruises and Whores

The Infinite Pleasures of Paperwork

Dusting Off

Hero Worship

Urdur

[barbiejedi]

please tell me all about judder page because that one does not ring a bell as loud as pash cracken

the entirety of my brainrot is contained within the X-Wing books and the NJO-- Page led a commando group that worked with Rogue Squadron a few times, and at the end of the NJO (in the novel Unifying Force) he spent time in a Vong POW camp with Cracken. His Wookiepedia page suggests he was in the Rogue Squadron comics as well but I'm not as caught up with those.

Mostly it was the POW camp plot stuff that made my teenage brain go "👀 something is... here???"

... fuck it maybe I release the post from my drafts and just own my shame

[captaingondolin]

asyr shows up just as the second semester is starting and she's from france because for some reason i thought of beauxbatons when you said she's an exchange student. so she is from france. and she's the same age as wedge and the others so gavin is intimidated because she's from france and she is a bit older than him. and he is a BABY. and he gets the biggest crush on her and it is very very cute

nawara ven is on the school’s model un

starwarstheriseofskywalker said:what is borsk fey'lya there to be annoying about. he’s ackbar’s rival so who hates the history teahcers. WAIT OH he also teaches history but like the current history and politics classes!!! whereas ackbar teaches the older things & military history. and they are constantly fighting over which is more important or more interesting. also students hate fey'lya’s class because he just lectures the whole time and then is like “ok write a paper on that, it’s due tomorrow” and doesn’t answer questions

starwarstheriseofskywalker said:corran and bror jace are GYM CLASS RIVALS aka they are always on opposite teams for all the sports and when they do the pacer test it’s always the two of them still running after everyone else has dropped out. the teacher just makes them stop because they have to move onto the next fitness test. which is crunches. the crunches stop at 75 (i know this because i always get to 75) but they just KEEP GOING. the gym teacher makes them stop and move onto PUSHUPS! and so on. no one ever wins

starwarstheriseofskywalker said:isard is the mean math teacher who everyone hates. she made gavin cry once when he wasn’t doing well in her class because she doesn’t even teach the kids, she just expects them to know how to do it automatically!!! this is why gavin went to wedge to get tutored because wedge can do math (he has to if he wants to be an architect!!!! which is what this wedge wants to do) and then they become friends FOREVER

starwarstheriseofskywalker said:kirtan loor is a BULLY and he calls corran a nerd but really HE’S the nerd. corran begins anticipating this and carries around reverse uno cards

starwarstheriseofskywalker said:whistler is corran’s dog who corran finger painted green once when he was a kid and he has never lived that down. there is a framed photo of corran hugging green puppy whistler in the living room. hal brings it up every time corran has friends over

starwarstheriseofskywalker said:ooryl qrygg is corran’s shy nerd bff. they sat together in class one time and then became friends. ooryl has been trying to get corran to read books, which is how corran discovers he really likes space battle military sci fi (he’s ME ok) and they start a book club which is just them sitting together at lunch talking about whatever book they discovered. iella joins the book club but makes them read some mystery next and corran texts her and ooryl in the group chat at 3 am “MUST FIND THE CLUES!!!”

starwarstheriseofskywalker said:admiral ackbar is a history teacher and everyone loves being in his classes because you can distract him with a well-thought out question. wedge is very good at this and therefore his favorite student. also, ackbar keeps being like “ok so i am supposed to just briefly cover this battle and then get on to what happened next but LET’S SPEND THE NEXT HOUR BREAKING DOWN THE STRATEGIES USED!!!!” and yes, whenever someone used a trap, he says “it’s a trap!” that’s his catchphrase

starwarstheriseofskywalker said:the elder cracken is the school principal and he keeps trying to make pash like, study all the time and get good grades but pash is like “no i want to study like one tenth of the time and get good grades and be on the FOOTBALL team” aka pash cracken is the football jock of this group. but i can’t imagine him being not naturally smart or studying so like. he still does well in class. and he’d be insufferable except he’s SO NICE TO EVERYONE so everyone likes him

i love everything about this, especially the reverse uno cards, corran & ooryl’s book club, whistler getting painted, ackbar

this AU is The Best

[girlbossk]

there’s. a wraith squadron in this book