Beyond - Legends Life and Limmie: Senator Tales (OC)

TAGS to Tim Battershell, jcgoble3, Trieste

Gark opened the front door of his home. He hoped that he wouldn’t run into an angry wife, and when he looked down the hallway, it was clear. So he went inside, and took off his jacket. The flowers he had purchased at a local floral shop were firmly in his hands; he had gone to great lengths to find the varieties that he knew Me’lin liked the most. They hadn’t been the cheapest, but when he was faced with a possible divorce, he was willing to spare the expense. After all, he had muddied his own name with the one-night stand he had with the Chiss assistant on Ralltiir. That night had stripped him down to nothing more than just a hormonal man with no sense of scruples. He realized afterwards that his wife meant everything to him. All he could hope for now was that she still wanted him back.

Finally his wife came into view. When she saw him, she looked disgusted. “Still on the couch,” she said.

“Look, Lin, I know I’ve been an ass,” Gark said. “I should have told you about the gambling, but I was afraid to say anything. I knew you would be mad, so I kept the secret.”

“And it wasn’t a very good secret to keep,” the Twi’lek said with a disapproving look on her face.

“I don’t know if it will melt the ice, but I got these for you,” Gark said. He brought the flowers in his hand out towards her so she could see them. “I know they are your favorite kinds.”

Me’lin reached out and took them from the Bothan’s grasp, and then she smelled them, one by one. Her expression lightened up a bit, but it still felt stern and uninviting. “Thank you,” she finally said. “But it will take more than flowers to make up for what you’ve done.”

“Good, because I also got these,” Gark said. He picked out a small box and handed it to the Twi’lek. She opened it, and found a small tote of sweet treats that he knew she liked.

“Again, it’s nice, but still not enough,” she said, still somewhat disapprovingly.

“Then I’ll take you out to dinner. Somewhere fancy. I’ll even wear a tux,” Gark said in a rushed manner. He didn’t like wearing formal wear, but if it would help woo his wife back, then he would do it in a heartbeat.

The restaurant was a posh place, but something was still wrong when the food came. Me’lin sat there, eating quietly. The silence she was giving him bugged Gark, and he knew that he had to get her back on his side. But what to do, he wondered. It was hard to understand how badly the last few weeks had gone in his relationship considering how nice it had been to begin with, but the only thing he knew was that he needed to do something quick.

He looked around the venue. Lots of people were eating at the restaurant, but none of them could likely help him. Unless there was a professional relationship counselor in attendance who wouldn’t mind putting in a few hours here, he was out of luck. His eyes shifted to the live house band that was playing quiet music in the background.

Then the lightbulb went off in his head. He excused himself from the table, which didn’t cause Me’lin much consternation, and he went to the band leader after the latest song was over. He talked a few things over with the man, and then handed over a few spare credits.

Me’lin didn’t care where her husband had gone; she didn’t want to see his face again for a while. She still felt betrayed by his actions, and nothing would change her mind on that.

Then a familiar voice was on the mic. “The next song is for a very special someone who knows who they are. I just hope it’s worth the expense of me making a fool of myself.”

The band leader then shouted out, “One, two, three, four!”

Then the song began to play. It was an older tune, one that had fallen out of favor in most circles in recent years

Me’lin looked up at him, mid-chew and all. The song sounded familiar, that was for sure. But she didn’t realize who the “special someone” was until she looked up at the bandstand.

Throughout the song, the Twi’lek just stared at her husband, a mixed look of horror and of confusion on her face. Gark was there, playing with the band on the amplified quetarra he had been handed. She had never seen him play an instrument before, and certainly not in front of any crowd she had been in.



“I know you want to leave me, but I re-fuse to let you go,” Gark sang. “If I have to beg, please, for your sympathy, I don’t mind, ‘cuz you mean that much to me . . .” He didn’t have the greatest singing voice in the world, but somewhere in Me’lin’s heart she knew that was the kind of sound she wanted to hear. It resonated for her.

Ain’t too proud to beg . . . went the refrain, and all the backup singers were into it as they each covered a part in their harmony. It was a work of art, this song, and Gark hoped that it would help bring Me’lin back into his life.

All the while, the Bothan kept his steady presence on the instrument. He stared at his wife at the table as he went along, plucking the strings, letting it all out. He wanted this to be his apology, his way to atone for his sins.

When the song was over, Gark took a bow and handed the instrument over to the band leader, and then went back to the table. There were a few awkward moments of silence before Me’lin finally opened her mouth. “You did that for me, didn’t you?” she asked.

“Of course,” Gark said, treading carefully.

There was a long pause after his response. Then Me’lin spoke up again. “Do you mean it?”

“I don’t understand,” Gark said.

“You chose that song for a reason, I can tell that,” his wife said. “Do you mean it?”

“Every word,” Gark said.

Me’lin sighed. “But how can I trust you? You’ve let me down before.”

“Why can’t you trust me to make things right?” Gark asked. That was the question he had wanted to ask all along.

“Because I want to trust you, but feel let down by your previous actions. Felt very hurt, betrayed.”

“Then let these be my apologies.” Gark then moved slightly forward. “I want you to know that I’ve thought a lot about this. And I realize that I was foolish. I messed up. I get that. But I don’t want you to still be mad at me, because I realize that it hurts you to see me being so naïve. I want you to be able to trust me again, because I’m willing to basically lie prostrate on the ground in front of you to keep you from walking out the door and leaving me. Please don’t make me do that; I don’t want to. And deep down I don’t think you want to either. Just trust me that I’ve learned from my mistakes and am ready to make things right. Give me another chance.”

“All right,” she finally said.

“Does this mean that we’re back on speaking terms?” Gark asked hopefully.

“Yes,” Me’lin said. “I appreciate going out of your way like this to make things right with me. However, it’s going to take a little more than that to firmly get me back. After what you did, it’s not easy to repair the damage.”

“Like what?” Gark asked. What more did he have to do for this woman?

“I want to make sure that you are sincere,” Me’lin replied after a pause. “Because that’s all I want, Gark. I want you to be honest with me on your dealings, because I need to trust you. And right now I don’t feel that I can. I want to, but I can’t. Not until you prove to me that you are indeed worthy of my trust once again.”

“I take it that sleeping in the bedroom with you tonight is out of the question, then?” Gark asked, now sighing himself. He had been hoping that he would at least be readmitted there, even if his wife was still somewhat leery of him.

“Exactly. You want to know what I want?”

“Yes.”

Me’lin paused once more. It was obvious to Gark that she had something important to say. Her eyes flitted down, and then back up at him. “I want you to be the man that I married five years ago, the man I started a family with, the man whom I could trust completely about anything and everything. Honest, trusting, faithful . . . can you be that for me, and never deviate from that course?”

“I know I’ve strayed a bit in the past few years,” Gark admitted, “but the truth is that I want nothing more in this galaxy than you. The last few weeks have bene torture, and I want it to end. Please take me back.”

“Things aren’t easy like that, because I can’t just forgive you on a lark” Me’lin commented. “Your gambling habits left a deep scar on me. I feel hurt still, because that’s a stain that can’t be remedied easily.”

“Do I have to beg you to stay with me?” Gark finally asked. “Because I will, if that’s what you want. I need you, Lin. I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

“Keep it that way,” Me’lin said.

“Is that enough?” Gark asked.

Me’lin shook her head. “You’re on your way back, but I can’t forgive you just yet.”

“Why not?” Gark asked.

“Because you still need to prove yourself worthy.”

“And how would one go around doing that?” Gark asked.

“You need to say the magic words.”

“And what are the magic words?”

“What does your conscience tell you?” Me’lin asked.


Gark wasn’t sure about this, and it took him the whole ride home to think about it. He spent that night on the couch trying to rack his brain to figure out what he wanted to say. This was going to be harder than he thought.

 

Gark has excellent taste in make up music, but I think Me'lin is right--more work needs to be done. I'm trying to think how I would patch things up if I were Gark. It seems like a long, slow road that Me'lin needs to be open to both of them walking together.

From a storytelling perspective, I don't know what that looks like. But I'm curious to see where it goes!

 

Love Gark playing and singing a make-up song. I wonder how many people in the restaurant recognized him?

Let's see how much further this goes!

 

TAGS to Tim Battershell, jcgoble3, Trieste


Gark awoke early the next day. He had things to do, and not a lot of time to get it done in. He went to the kitchen and started to pull out all sorts of items from the shelves and counters. Breakfast was going to be the first thing he was going to challenge today, the first thing that he hoped that Me’lin could appreciate him fixing for her and the kids. It was something that he knew he had to do; he couldn’t risk her getting away from him, not after all this time.

As he fixed the breakfast, he thought about what else he could do to keep her with him. His gambling habits had gotten him into this, and thus he would do whatever it took to shake free of those specters. He was going to become a new man, a changed man, the husband his wife wanted him to be. And thus Gark S’rily was going to find a way to make that change happen, whatever the cost.

Breakfast eventually was served, and Gark waited for someone to arrive in the kitchen. Mykal was the first, and he began to eat. Galin then came running in, thinking that school was going to be fun that day. Gark didn’t necessarily agree that school was fun, per se, but the young boy seemed to have a good time. If that would last when he started getting complicated homework assignments, Gark mused, that was for another day. Right now, his son was enjoying his life, and that was important.

Finally Me’lin came to the kitchen, obviously curious about what had been going down in there. When she saw the meal on the table, she looked to Gark. “You cooked this?” she asked.

Gark nodded. “I thought it was the least I could do,” he commented. “I owed you one.”

“That you surely did,” Me’lin said as she sat down and began to eat. Gark took a few nibbles of one of the pancakes, knowing that he hadn’t made this for himself. Instead, he had made this for everyone else, a chance to prove himself worthy.

“And I have a plan to prove myself to you,” he then said.

“And what would that be?” the Twi’lek asked.

“I’ve volunteered to help out at a gambling hotline,” Gark said. “Counseling services. There are a few clients that need help today, and I offered to assist the counseling staff . . .”

---

Gark listened to the stories of the Ishi Tib in front of him, about how the man had almost bankrupted himself on binge gambling. Gark then spoke up. “And you realize your errors now?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” the man said. “I had a girl who really liked me, but my gambling drove her away. Now I want nothing more than to get her back.”

“I have a similar story,” Gark said after a quick pause. “My wife threatened to divorce me if I didn’t quit gambling. It was hard, let me tell you, but I was able to quit.”

“Did it work?” the man asked.

“I’m still in the process of it, but I think it’s had a major impact on her since I quit,” Gark said. At least he hoped he had.

---

Gark picked up trash on the sidewalk using the grabbing tool. Now he was assisting the neighborhood association by cleaning up a public park near his home. They always needed extra hands, and he was offering to help. It was a long, hard process, but it looked like progress was being made. He hadn’t volunteered this much in a long time, since he usually had other things to attend to. Yet now, with his pride on the line, it didn’t seem so bad. Instead, he gained a new sense of fulfillment from the work. And it only further fueled his drive.

---

A week passed, and every day Gark spent some time with the gambling help center, and two more days with the neighborhood cleaning up. He listened to the stories of many addicts, and tried to help get them through their crises. All the while he hoped that Me’lin would take notice of his actions. He made dinner most of the nights at home while she was at work or out of the house, and then made sure that he only ate the leftovers as the lowly chef.

At one point he even cleaned the house by himself, vacuuming, scrubbing the hard surfaces, and then washing and making the beds. The towels were all washed and hung up neatly, and finally the lawn was taken care of. It was hard work, and the Bothan built up a sweat, but everything he did was going towards keeping Me’lin with him. This had to work.

Finally, Me’lin had to ask him something. “Are you doing this for me?” she inquired.

“Yes. Because I want to impress you,” Gark said. “I know I’ve done you wrong, and I want to fix it. Please take me back.”

“I really appreciate the time you’ve spent helping others out. That’s what I’ve always wanted to see from you. But you’re not done yet. Do you know what the magic words are?” the Twi’lek asked.

“Not yet, but I think I’m getting there,” Gark said.

“How are the gamblers doing under your care?” Me’lin asked.

“Fine. The center thinks I’m doing a good job,” Gark said proudly. “They think I’ve helped at least two kick their habits entirely, and several more have sought additional counseling. So I’ve been a nice stopgap for them as a volunteer.”

“That’s great. You’re finally wising up to your mistakes,” Me’lin said.

“And I realize even more the mistakes I made with you,” Gark said. “I don’t want to feel alone anymore. I can’t take it.”

“This is a path that both of us will have to take if we want to stay together,” Me’lin said. “I’m willing to take you back, but you need to take that road as well as I do. Are you willing to do that for me?”

“Yes, whatever it takes,” Gark said. “Just please let me back.”

“Still need the words,” Me’lin said. “Only then will I accept your apology.”


Gark went to sleep that night trying desperately to figure it all out. As for Me’lin, she knew what her prerogative was as she settled into bed. If Gark took the hint and could prove to her that he truly cared, then she was all his again. If not, then this would get a lot more complicated . . .

 

"The words"? Somebody's playing hard-to-get...

 

Of course she is. She knows how to play the game.

TAGS to Tim Battershell, Trieste, jcgoble3


Gark awoke on the couch the next day to the sounds of rustling in the kitchen. He groaned and turned over, and finally sat up. The couch was not a friendly beast by any means; it was harder than he wanted a bed to be. He missed his old one, but was still banished from using it. And that struck him the wrong way. He had to change that.

Getting up, he went into the kitchen to find Galin and Mykal eating. Me’lin was there, having finished her breakfast serving. The boys finished up and then went off to the refresher before heading off to their respective schools, Galin to kindergarten, and Mykal to high school. Both of them later on passed through the kitchen as they left the house, but not before Gark gave them their lunches from the fridge. “Have fun at school if you can,” he told his younger son.

“Come on, dad, school’s fun,” Galin said.

“Wasn’t always,” Gark said. “Just do your homework and listen in class.”

Eventually the house was back to both he and his wife, still a battleground between the two of them. As Gark stared the Twi’lek down from across the room, he thought about what she had said to him to prior day. What magic words did she want, anyways? It was ludicrous to be able to read her mind like a Jedi; that would be downright crazy to expect from him. Love was a fickle beast.

And then it came to him. The magic words that Me’lin had wanted, that was it. He loved her. Now it all made sense. Whether she had been truthful the night before, or just messing with him, he wasn’t sure, but it all came down to one thing: she wanted to be loved. And now was his chance to make it right, hopefully for good this time.

He went into the kitchen, and Me’lin took a break from what she was doing to face him. She didn’t betray any emotion when he came in. “Do you know what the words are?” she asked.

Gark just took a breath and spoke. “It’s simple.”

“Then what are they?”

“I want you, I need you . . . I love you, with no strings attached.”

“Congratulations,” Me’lin said. She came a little closer. “You finally figured it out. But what took you so long?”

“I had to do a lot of soul-searching,” Gark admitted. “And I know that what I did was wrong. There is no denying that. I want to make it up to you in any way that I can. And I’m prepared to sleep on the couch again, just to prove that I’m serious. Just take me back. I’ll never stray again. Please.”

Me’lin came closer, now near enough for Gark to reach out and touch. Then the two embraced each other, in a silent show of respect to the other. Gark then looked into his wife’s eyes, and she into his. He knew that this was the greatest treasure. Credits weren’t important when he had Me’lin at his side. Then they kissed each other, something he had sorely missed for several weeks. It felt good to taste her lips, to be reacquainted with her on an intimate level. It was like a black hole, sucking him in. The feeling of her body next to his, the swollen belly that bridged the gap between their bodies that he had helped make happen, feeling the soft tone of her skin . . . he had missed this so much.

“Promise me to never, never, ever, keep another thing like that from me, and to be honest when I ask you questions about your actions,” Me’lin said.

“Promise,” Gark said. And he meant it this time. “Just don’t speak of leaving me ever again. Because I don’t want you walking out that door.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. My place is here,” Me’lin said. The embrace ended. They were back together at last, the two souls left adrift for a few weeks, and now brought back together. “I love you, and I always will” she said.

“Love you too,” Gark said with a hint of a smile on his face. His mission was complete.

“Do you have work to get done today?” Me’lin then asked.

“I think I do, but I can spend part of a day here,” Gark said.

The next two hours were spent on the couch, watching a really terrible Holo film. But the two didn’t care; it was personal time spent with their significant other, and they wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

When Galin and Mykal got home, they found that their father was reinstated back into the family, and Galin got a big hug from the elder S’rily. And Gark knew this was the best thing he could have hoped for.

That night, getting to sleep in the same bed with Me’lin, feeling her warm body against his, the feeling of her headtail that occasionally hit him in the face even though she tried to keep them out of the way, it all clicked for him. He was excited to be back, and to have his wife love him once more. Even a Galactic Cup victory wasn’t as sweet as the emotions he was experiencing now. Because a Cup was lifeless and cold. His wife was anything but. And he liked it that way.


Things were back to normal.

 

Hooray! So Gark has gotten over not winning the 278 Commissioner's Trophy in the Elite League. Phew, glad to hear that got resolved.

 

Just a bit of harmless backstory.

TAGS to Tim Battershell, jcgoble3, Trieste

“About a month or so left until the little one is due,” Me’lin proudly told her husband after her latest doctors’ visit. “Says they look healthy.”

“That’s great news!” Gark commented. “I take it we still don’t know the gender yet?”

“Of course we don’t,” Me’lin said. “I specifically have told them not to say until the birth happens. It’s better that way.”

“And I’m sure you enjoy the suspense of it all,” Gark said wryly.

“I know it’s still a secret that they’re keeping, but I do hope it’s a girl,” Me’lin said. “I’ve always wanted a daughter, ever since I was a little girl.”

“Sounds like the dream of about any little girl in this galaxy,” Gark said.

“I’m serious,” Me’lin said. “It was a big deal for me.”

---

32 years ago

“Father, I want to be a mother someday,” a very young Me’lin said after going through a city park with her father and younger sister.

“It’s a lot of work, young one,” her father commented. “Rewarding, but a hard life.”

“I know, but I want to dream, Father,” Me’lin said. They were speaking in Basic as they walked; her father hadn’t been interested in teaching his daughters the native language of the Twi’lek people, because he was so far removed from Ryloth that it didn’t seem important anymore to hold onto a culture he never really knew. Three generations of his family had lived away from their homeworld, and he was the fourth-generation son who was starting to see Coruscant as more of his homeworld than anywhere else. And he wanted his daughters to feel more at home here by speaking the local dialect rather than let them learn a language on a world they would likely never acknowledge as home.

“And I suppose that you would like it to be a girl like yourself?”

“Of course.”

“So what else do you want when you grow up?”

“I want to be married someday, to a real nice man, one that can support me. I want to have two or three children. All girls, hopefully.”

“I suppose I should ask what you want to do when you grow up, but I think I already know,” her father said with a smirk.

“To be a CEO someday. Then people will work for me, and I’ll have a desk and everything,” the young Twi’lek said.

“That will take a lot of work,” her father said.

“I can do it, Father. Just watch me. I’ll go to college, and then I’ll get a good job.”

“I wish it was that easy,” her father said, his voice trailing off.


“I also want to drop my full name,” Me’lin said. “Why did you want me to keep it, Father?”

Her father stopped and then kneeled down to be at eye-level with his eldest daughter. “You do indeed have a full name, a full Twi’lek clan name. Your mother and I gave it to you out of tradition. But now that she’s gone . . .” he paused, obviously choked up with memories of losing his wife. She had died when Me’lin was only four years old, her sister Re’lia only two, cruelly taken in a random drive-by shooting while out shopping. Her body had been found twenty minutes later still clutching her shopping bag, as if nothing was wrong. Me’lin’s father had never been the same since that day, and he had been impossible to console for months afterward. Things had improved as the girls had gotten older, but it still burned in his chest. “ . . . I see a need to keep the attachment to the old world, even if we have no other attachments. Your mother was more of a stickler for tradition than myself, but in her honor I wanted to keep it the way it was originally. So I kept it.”

“But I don’t know if I want it all,” the girl replied. “Seems so long and strung out in this world. Other kids have laughed at me not having a surname, and I want them to stop.”

“Then the choice is up to you,” the man said. “I cannot tell you how to live your life. But, no matter what, you will always be my little girl, Me’lin’olani, full name or not. And that will never change.”

Me’lin soon began to drop the clan name “ ‘olani” from her name, so teachers and friends now knew her simply as “Me’lin”. It seemed easier that way, and Re’lia eventually followed suit with her older sister, although she was a bit more apprehensive about the change at first. Their father didn’t say anything against their actions, but it was obvious that he felt slightly pained that their mother’s traditions didn’t pass on to her daughters. Of course, if she was only alive to see them, maybe they wouldn’t have changed their minds. But it was their decision, not his. They had every right to do this, and he had to make the best of it.

---

“You never told me you had a longer name than the one you gave on your application,” Gark commented after this point came out.

“Never thought it was important,” Me’lin said. “It’s mostly just a formality. I don’t tack it on if I don’t have to.”

“It’s odd that you can just drop part of your name. I had a surname given to me from birth, and was expected to keep it. You could drop it. Of course, I don’t mind ‘S’rily’. It’s a pretty nice clan and family name. I like it. And I want the kids to keep it alive as long as possible.”

“You notice that I didn’t hesitate to add it as my surname,” Me’lin said. “I could have been Me’lin Olani, but I didn’t want to be. That is a sign of shame in Twi’lek culture, to have your name spread out in two parts. But I think your surname is so much better, even though mine is a clan name that goes back many generations.”

“You ever find out who your clan was?” Gark inquired. He had never really found his clan on the Bothan side of things.

“My father says that they had no distinction on Ryloth, that they weren’t rich by any means, and had little prestige. So my ancestors moved here to Coruscant to find a new life. They struggled for many years, but then things looked up. I went to college, Re’lia got a nice job as a masseuse, and finally I landed the Senators job. And now I’m married to a nice man and will soon have three kids. Its funny how that all came to work out.”

“It is,” Gark replied. “The galaxy doesn’t always make sense.”

“But I wouldn’t trade it for anything,” Me’lin commented.

“Now we have to find out if it’s a girl or a boy,” Gark pointed out.

“We shall see in a month or so. Until then, we can only sit tight and hope for the best,” Me’lin remarked as she rubbed her stomach gently. It felt so smooth to the touch, and while she wanted the child to get out, it would sadden her when her pregnancy was over. Gark would never understand as a man; many things in life wouldn’t make sense out of context.

But hopefully it was all for the best.

 

Great backstory.

 

I know this isn't related to anything, but I think it's hilarious and needs to be written.

TAGS to Tim Battershell, Trieste, and jcgoble3


Gark had been staring at the roster too long. His eyes were beginning to droop, and he was losing interest in working. But he had to press on; lots of contracts to deal with, lots of footage to go over, the fate of the team in his hands. The Senators needed to win for once; they had been kicked around too much in recent years, and it was time to get revenge against the rest of the League. They would be shown that the Senators were no longer the whipping boy. Six wins this season be damned; it wasn’t enough. Only a Cup title could shut the critics up.

But damn was he getting tired. His vision was blurring as he stared at the names, and finally he had to succumb to the darkness. His head landed on the table, cradled in his arms.

And it was thus that the Magic Bothan began to dream.

---

Spoiler

A very short time ago, on a pitch not very far away . . .

Spoiler

LIMMIE WARS

Spoiler

Episode 10: Return of the Peculiar Sleep-Induced Dreams (Imagine the opening crawl here)

GARK S’RILY, GM of the Coruscant Senators Limmie squad, has recently fallen asleep at his desk for a lack of anything better to do. He is now to undergo a very strange dream sequence in which nothing will quite make sense, but everything will be 100% goofy.

Anyways, back to the story. The Galactic Limmie Wars rages on. Rebel forces, striking from anywhere between the midfield line and the goal line, have scored their first goal against the evil Limmie Empire. During the goal-scoring play, the Rebels have obtained the plans of the Empire’s new offense: The ‘AIR RAID’, an offense that is so powerful that it can wipe out opposing defenses in one game.

Pursued by the Empire’s sinister corner backs, Princess LEIA ADAMA returns to her homeworld of Bakura, hoping to get the plans into the hands of her defensive coordinators to stop any other defenses from being destroyed by the Empire’s. However, things take a turn for the worst, as is to be expected coming out of the opening credits . . .

Over Bakura

The blockade runner shot towards Bakura, hoping to reach its atmosphere before the Imperial forces could catch them. It was of utmost importance that the plans to the offense could be handed over to Rebel agents, or at least sold to telemarketers. They could likely spam the Empire into oblivion with their ‘Cheap Abs in Two Weeks’ and ‘Free GalactiPads’ advertisements for sharing on social media. But that was not important, as the ship came under attack. An Imperial vessel, the Glencross, had followed the Rebel ship, the Nalo, to the Bakura system, and was preparing to capture the Rebels on board.

The two ships traded fire for about a minute before the main shield generator on the Nalo was hit and demolished. This left the tiny Rebel ship with very little protection against the Imperial cruiser. On board, the Rebel troopers began to scurry about, trying to figure out what their best course of defense was in such a situation.

“You hear that? They’ve shut down the main reactor. We’ll be killed for sure!” said the old man who kinda looked like a droid in rather-crappy looking metal garb. He seemed familiar, like the man who worked in the Senators’ film room downstairs at Team HQ. But since it was a droid, not a man, the script named him as Bob-4KO.

His sidekick, Arco Gas’oleen, also known as ARCO-D2, as his speeder plate indicated, frowned. “Stop overreacting. We’re not dead yet.”

“This is madness!” Bob said.

“Dude, we’re main characters. Of course we’re gonna live,” Arco commented snidely.

Then the two of them could hear the sounds of metal scraping on the top of the ship. “What was that?” Bob asked, although it was obvious that no one could answer his question because they didn’t know either.

“There will be no escape for the Princess this time,” Bob then said.

But Arco was already on the move. Bob turned around to see his companion go down a hallway. “Where are you going?”

But Arco didn’t reply, just moving the whole time. Bob started to move slowly after Arco, hoping to catch him before anything happened to separate them. Even as a cyborg, or droid, depending on which version of the script you read, he wanted to make sure that he wasn’t alone on a ship in trouble. Perhaps someone would come up with a brilliant plan to get them out of the problem.

All the while, Rebel forwards began to stand guard in the entryway to the ship. They had their playbooks read and understood, and then prepared their defense using slingshots and chewing gum. More metal scraping noises indicated that the ship was in dire peril, and that they were being taken hostage. The only course of action available now was the fight. The forward readied themselves for action.

It didn’t take long for an awkward silence to fall over the scene. Each forward could hear their breath echo in the silence. But then it was shattered when the door fell open, and in through the haze swarmed Imperial Minertroopers, each decked out in their dark-blue armored uniforms. They began to exchange fire with the Rebels, the forwards throwing their chewing gum spitballs at the troopers, and the Imperials launching bolo-balls at their opponents. Rebel after Rebel got hit in the head, face, or groin, and fell down onto the floor in agony, needing medical assistance. Several Minertroopers had chewing gum stick to their helmets and boots, and fell over onto the ground when they lost visual coordination or because they just tripped and fell.

It was obvious that the Imperial troops were winning, so the remaining Rebel soldiers retreated, hoping to stall just long enough for the important plans to get to safety. As they ran down the corridor, they joined up with some of their other fellows to create one final stand against the Minertroopers. As the battle raged in a hallway, the plans were being transferred to a new individual.

“Arco, where are you?” Bob asked as he walked through the bowels of the ship. Then, he could see in a slightly-backlit portion of bulkhead, a woman dressed in white handing a datapad over to Arco. The man then came over to Bob, and the woman disappeared, her silky white road uniform starkly visible in the darkness of the room. “Where have you been? They’re headed in this direction!”

“I wouldn’t worry about that too much,” Arco stated. “Now, let’s go!”

“Do you think they’ll smash us or send us to the spice mines of Kessel?” Bob inquired.

“Probably both,” Arco said. He kept moving towards the back of the vessel.

“Wait! Where are you going? Come back!” Bob said as Arco kept moving.

Meanwhile, the princess found herself in a trouble spot. The fighting was over, and the remaining non-injured Rebel forwards were taken prisoner by the Minertroopers. Hands on their heads, the forwards were marched along down the hallway to the central staging area. All the while, back at the entrance, a figure in a distinctly black uniform came in. Surveying the injured troopers and forwards, the figure coughed a few times, cursing the smoke machine, and then kept moving.

Then they got to the staging area, and the leader of the Rebels was brought forward. The figure started to choke the Rebel commander, Captain Calo Mornd. “What happened to those plans?” the dark figure demanded.

“We’re received no plans! This is a consular ship . . . we’re on a diplomatic mission . . .” Mornd spluttered.

“If this is a consular ship, then where is the ambassador?” the figure asked, but it was too late. The neck of Mornd snapped, and he was dead. Annoyed, the figure tossed the body aside and then turned to a Minertrooper. “Commander, tear this ship apart until you’ve found those plans, or until you’ve found us money for the cab ride home under the gravcouches! I want them alive, or at least not covered in lint!” The troopers started to move around, and the figure cursed themselves for not letting the Captain live to tell her the answer to her question.

Several Minertroopers went through the central portion of the ship, especially through the bulkhead and cargo sections. Leia stepped out to size them up, but a trooper saw her. “There’s one!” he commented. “Fire!”

But Leia was too quick. She nailed the trooper in the groin with an excellently-placed shot with her rock slingshot, and he fell down. But another trooper, seeing the Princess try and escape, tossed a bolo-ball at her, causing her to fall down. Leia landed on her face, and the troopers caught up to her. “She’ll be alright. Inform the Commander that we have a prisoner!” the new head trooper said.

In the escape pod bay, Arco was trying to pick the lock on the nearest pod. Bob finally caught up to him. “What are you doing? This is restricted! You’ll be reprimanded for sure!” Bob commented.

“Who cares? Better to get away than to be captured. Especially with these plans, and the secret mission.” The pod door opened, and the man crawled inside.

“Secret mission? What plans? Now get out of there before someone sees you.” Bob said. But then a ball whizzed past his head, and he got inside the pod. “I’m going to regret this,” he commented. The pod was quickly jettisoned, and it shot out into space.

On board the Glencross, Commander Cuth Hulu was informed that an escape pod had been jettisoned. “Should we fire, sir?” the lieutenant asked.

“Hold your fire,” Hulu said. “They have an antiquated offense aboard. They are no threat to us.”

So they held their fire, and the pod spiraled towards Bakura. Looking out the view, Bob had a few things to say. “Hm, it doesn’t look nearly as bad from out here.” He turned to Arco. “Are you sure this thing is safe?” The pod continued to wobble in a straight path down towards the planet.

Back on the Nalo, Leia was taken prisoner and escorted by six Minertroopers to the leader of the operation. And then she saw the leader of the Imperial forces. “Darth Gamble. Only you could be so bold. The League won’t stand for this. When they hear that you’ve attacked . . .”

“Easy, Princess, you weren’t on any mercy mission this time,” Gamble said. Her blonde hair was tied up with a black scrunchie to keep with the rest of the evil villain black leather thing. “Several transmissions were beamed to this ship by Rebel scouts. I want to know what happened to the plans they sent you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leia said. “I’m an Imperial forward on a diplomatic mission to Bakura, to . . .”

“You are part of the Senators Alliance, and a traitor! Take her away!” Gamble roared. She waved her hand, and the troopers took Leia out of the area. The Imperial officer next to the Defense Lord spoke up.

“Holding her is dangerous. If word gets out to the League . . .” said officer Vex Blooker.

“I have traced the Rebel offense to her. Now she is my only link to finding their training facility so that we can spy on their intentions.”

“She’ll die before she tells you anything,” Blooker said.

“Leave that to me. Send a distress signal, and inform the League that all aboard were killed,” Gamble said. She and Blooker went down the next hallway, but another officer appeared.

“Lord Gamble. No plans are on this ship, and no transmissions were made. An escape pod was jettisoned during the fighting, but there was no intelligence aboard.”

“She must have hidden the plans in the escape pod,” Gamble said. “Go down to the planet to retrieve it. See to it personally, Commander. There will be no one to stop us this time.”

To Be Continued, likely in a very predictable fashion . . .

 

TAGS to Tim Battershell, Trieste, jcgoble3

Bakura

The pod crash-landed on the planet’s surface, shaking the two inside the metal shell. Bob staggered out into the daylight, and although he was most likely a droid and couldn’t technically feel pain, could tell that something was wrong. Arco came out quickly afterwards. “What a desolate place this is,” Bob commented, looking out over the plains they found themselves on.

“Could be worse,” Arco said.

“I think my joints are going to freeze up if I don’t get any maintenance,” Bob said on a sour note. “They forgot to remedy that, before the ship was under attack.”

“Eh, you’ll get over it,” Arco commented. He turned around and started to move. Bob stopped him. “There’s probably a town or something in this direction.”

“What makes you think there are settlements over there?” Bob asked indignantly.

Arco shrugged and just kept moving. “You’ll get lost within a day, you idiot,” he said. “You need me.”

“I’ve just about had enough of you,” Bob said. “Go that way. You’ll be lost and confused by nightfall, you scrap heap.”

“Watch your mouth,” Arco said. “And I’ll show you. Good bye.” With that he left in a huff, and Bob kept walking in the opposite direction.

About two hours later, the plains were still rolling in all directions. Bob was starting to get really frustrated; there didn’t seem to be towns anywhere near his location. “That little twerp. He tricked me into going this way. But he’ll fare no better.” Behind him was the skull of a dead animal, obviously left here to die.

Then Bob turned around, and a vehicle of some sort came into view. “What’s this? A transport! I’m saved!” Bob exclaimed. “Over here!” he yelled, raising his arms to try and catch the attention of the approaching vehicle. “Hey! Hey!”

Elsewhere, Arco found himself beaten up by thugs who had come out to the plains to cause trouble, and had ended up on a small vehicle with farm workers that were going to a nearby farm. He hoped to be able to disembark there and find his way off the planet. This was his ticket out of here, to hide with droids.

When he sat down, Arco realized that he wasn’t alone. Several droids burped and whirred at him in their binary code, and he wanted to punch a really small orange one that was bugging him after about ten seconds. Then he heard a familiar voice. “Arco?” Bob asked. “Arco-D2, it is you! It is you!” The vehicle kept moving, and the two “friends” were back together after being separated for several hours on their own.

---

The vehicle finally stopped at dusk, and Bob looked to Arco. “We seem to have stopped,” he commented.

“Probably to make a delivery,” Arco said.

Then the driver and a worker came to open the back and let the droids out. Arco pretended to be a droid, and he was led out towards a small cottage that looked over a vast landscape of green fields. It was a desolate place to a man who had seen many urban places and was not used to rural landscapes.

The droids, many of them astromechs, were led out to the cottage, where two humans came out to meet them. One of them heard his name called. “Levi! Levi!” came the voice from inside the cottage.

Levi Cornersitter, the teenager who lived at this residence with his uncle and aunt, Xander and Reena Darkrider, went over to check on what his aunt wanted. “Yeah?” he asked, brushing aside a blonde wisp of hair that had gotten into his face.

“Tell Uncle to find a droid that speaks Spanglish,” his aunt shouted to him.

“I don’t know if we have much of a choice, but I’ll remind him,” Levi said. He turned and then joined his uncle by the transport vehicle.

“Not that one,” Uncle Xander said to the operation leader when he saw Arco, and the man secretly wanted to sneak out of this situation and steal the vehicle he had been stuck in. That would allow for his quick getaway . . .

“You’re a protocol droid, are you not?”

“Yes sir,” Bob said to the human man.

“I suppose you’re programmed for etiquette and protocol,” Xander said.

“Exactly, sir,” Bob commented.

“I have no need for a protocol droid,” Xander replied coldly.

“Of course you don’t, sir,” Bob said, taking a look out at the plowed fields around the cottage. “That is why I have been programmed to . . .”

“What I really need is a droid that can give me an updated weather forecast and clip-it coupon offers,” Xander said. “Because my wife loves to collect coupons.”

“Sir, my first job was working at a grocery store as a stocker, very similar to your coupon clippers in most respects,” Bob said, somewhat cheerily. This was his last chance.

“Do you speak Spanglish?”

“Of course I do, sir. It’s like a second language to me!” Bob said.

“All right, shut up. I’ll take these two,” Xander said, pointing to Bob and then to a blue astromech. “Levi,” he then said, turning to his nephew. “Get these two cleaned up, and ready to go for tomorrow at daybreak.”

“But I was gonna go into town to pick up some power converters!” Levi whined.

“You can waste time with your friends later. Right now, you need to clean up these droids,” Xander said sternly.

“All right, come on,” Levi said to the two droids in a dejected tone. He turned to go, but noticed that the blue astromech wasn’t coming. “Come on, Blue! Let’s go!” he exclaimed. The blue droid went forward, but then quickly blew a circuit, and smoke came out of its lid. When Levi noticed this, he got the attention of his uncle. “Hey, Uncle Xander?”

“What?” his uncle replied.

“This R2 unit has a bad motivator! Look!” Levi said.

“Hey, what are you trying to push on us?” Xander asked, and the operation leader shrugged.

Bob then tapped Levi on the shoulder. “Pardon me, sir, but that worker over there is in prime shape. A real bargain.”

“Uncle Xander? What about that one?” Levi asked, pointing to Arco.

“We’ll take that very lifelike one that looks like it’s human,” Xander said. He paid the operation leader, the bad droid was led away, and Arco rejoined Bob.

“This is the last time I stick my neck out for you,” Bob said to Arco when Levi was out of earshot. “It’s quite beyond my capacity.”

“Don’t worry, it all worked out,” Arco said. He slipped a screwdriver into his pocket, with which he had sabotaged the other droid unit to make sure that he got picked. But Bob didn’t know he had done such a thing.

“Let’s go,” Levi said, and he went into the garage next to the cottage.

---

“Thank the Maker! This oil shake is going to taste so good!” Bob said as he sat down to a can of oil. His joints needed it after the long and arduous journey across land.

Levi was sitting in a chair, playing with a model spaceship. He moved the model back and forth, but frowned after a few seconds. “Agh. Rickard’s right; I’m never gonna get out of here!”

“Is there anything I can do, sir?” Bob inquired, taking a quick break from the oil sipping.

“Not unless you can travel through time, speed up the harvest, or teleport me to somewhere with good cell reception,” Levi said, shaking his datapad for a moment. “It’s so crappy out here that I always get dropped calls.

“I’m afraid not, sir,” Bob said. “I’m an interpreter; I’m not capable of doing much beyond that, I am afraid. Not in a place such as this. Speaking of that, I am not quite sure what planet I’m on.”

“Well, if there’s a center to the universe, you’re on a planet it’s pretty far from,” Levi said.

“I see, sir,” Bob said.

“You can call me Levi,” Levi said.

“I see, Sir Levi,” Bob said.

“Just call me Levi,” the teen replied with a chuckle.

“And I am Bob-4KO, human-cyborg relations. I have been described as slightly annoying. And this is my counterpart, ARCO-D2 . . . or, just Arco.”

“Hello,” Levi said.

“Hey, whazzup?” Arco asked.

“Your clothes seem to have a bit of carbon scoring in them,” Levi noticed as he sized up Arco. “You boys must’ve seen a lot of action.”

“Sometimes I don’t know how we’ve made it through alive,” Bob said. “What, with the Rebellion and all.”

Levi jumped excitedly and turned to face the droid. “You know of the Rebellion against the Limmie Empire?”

“Yes. That’s how we’ve come into your service, if you understand what I mean,” Bob commented.

“Have you been in many games?” Levi asked.

“Several, I think. Actually, there’s not much to tell. I’m an interpreter, and I’m not very good at telling stories,” Bob said with a metallic sigh.

“He’s just not willing to say,” Arco commented snidely.

“You look like crap,” Levi said to Arco. “Were you two on a starcruiser, or . . .”

Then Arco dropped whatever he was holding, and a hologram appeared. Levi bent down to see what it was. The hologram showed a woman in a white uniform, obviously in some sort of distress. She was beautiful, the teen though. “Help me, Jenna-Wan Leedobi, you’re my only hope,” the woman said. The she said it again, and again. It was obviously on a loop.

“What’s this?” Levi asked incredulously.

Arco shrugged. “What is what?” he asked.

“What do you mean ‘what’? He asked you a question. What is that?” Bob demanded.

“Help me, Jenna-Wan Leedobi. You’re my only hope,” said the message.

“”It’s merely old data. Pay it no mind,” Arco said.

“I wonder who she is . . . she’s beautiful,” Levi said.

“I’m afraid I’m not quite sure, sir. She may have been a passenger on our last voyage, a person of some importance,” Bob said.

Arco then commented to himself, “Duh, genius. You don’t remember the Princess you talked to a few hours ago? How in the hell can you forget that fast?” He then spoke to Levi. “I’m looking for Jenna-Wan. Do you know her?”

“I don’t know anyone named Jenna-Wan . . . but I do know a Jen Leedobi. She’s kind of a strange hermit, living out beyond the college stadium.” Levi then paused. “She sounds like she’s in trouble. I better play back the whole message,” Levi said, reaching for the datapad. But Arco scooped it up and put it in his pocket.

“If you let me get some air overnight, I’ll play you back the message later,” he offered.

“Alright, I guess you won’t run away on me,” Levi said. “You look like a decent fellow.”

“Boy do I,” Arco said with a grin.

“Levi! Levi!” came the voice of his Uncle Reena. “It’s time for dinner!”

“Blast!” Levi said. He turned to Bob. “See what you can do. I’ll be right back.” He then left the garage and went into the cottage. Bob turned to Arco.

“Just you reconsider playing that message for him,” the droid scolded his companion.

“I don’t think he likes me,” Arco said.

“No, I don’t think so. And I don’t like you either.”

“Fine. Be that way,” Arco said. He didn’t have time for this crap. He needed to be somewhere.

Levi went into the kitchen, where his aunt and uncle were already eating. He sat down and poured himself some blue milk. “You know, I think that droid and the worker might have been stolen and be a stowaway,” he said in an offhand manner.

“What makes you think that?” Xander asked gruffly.

“I stumbled across a message while cleaning them up,” Levi said. “They say they work for a Jenna-Wan Leedobi. I thought they might have meant Jen . . . do you know what they’re talking about?”

“Nah,” Xander said bluntly. “That woman is just a crazy hermit. Now, I want you to take the droid down to the Acme Corporation tomorrow and have its mind jumbled with Looney Tunes cartoons. That will be the end of it; it belongs to us now. And the worker, he’ll probably need to be broken a bit. Sounds like a bit of a free spirit.”

“But what if this Jenna-Wan comes looking for them?”

“She won’t. I don’t think she exists anymore. Retired about the same time as your father.”

“She knew my father?”

“I told you to forget it.”

“You just told me now to forget it.”

“He has a point,” Reena said.

“Fine, then,” Xander said. “But that’s all I’m going to say.”

“I think these new workers will work out fine,” Levi said after a pause. “And, it’s got me thinking about our agreement, that I stay on another season. If these workers do well, I want to send in my recruiting tapes to colleges this year.”

“You mean the next semester before the harvest?”

“Sure. There are more than enough droids.”

“But harvest is when I need you the most. You must understand that I need you here, Levi. Maybe this year I can make enough to hire some more hands, and then you’ll be able to go to college next year.”

“But it’s a whole ‘nother year!” Levi protested.

“Well, it’s only one more season . . .” Xander commented.

“That’s what you said when Rickard and Aron left,” Levi said as he stood up.

“Where are you going?” Reena inquired.

“Apparently I’m going nowhere,” Levi said. “I’ve gotta clean up that droid.” He then walked out of the kitchen and back to the garage. Xander and Reena shared a look.

“He has a point,” Reena said. “Most of his friends are gone. It means so much to him.”

“I’ll make sure he goes next year. I promise,” Xander said.

“Levi’s just not a farmer, Xander. He has too much of his father in him.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” the man said before taking a sip of blue milk.

Levi went out in the gathering darkness, and kicked at the ground a little bit. He hated how his uncle would never let him leave the farm. He wanted to play college ball, but Xander would never allow him to leave. They just didn’t have enough hands to do all the work, and he was a healthy young man. It just wasn’t fair. So Levi watched as the sun set over the outline of the nearby college stadium, its rays casting a shadow around its magnificent frame. He wanted to be there, but knew that he likely never would.

When he got back to the garage, it was dark inside. He looked for the two new acquisitions, but they were nowhere to be found. Finally he pulled out a buzzer, and it brought out Bob from the corner. “What are you doing back there?” he asked the droid.

“Please, sir, don’t deactivate me. He’s gone! Stupid man has a mind of his own, kept babbling on about his mission!”

“Oh no,” Levi said as he suddenly changed course and grabbed his binoculars. The two of them went outside, and he looked in all directions. “Blast, he’s nowhere in sight. How could I be so stupid?”

“Pardon me, sir, but couldn’t we go after him?”

“It’s too dangerous with all the random cameo characters roaming around. We’ll have to wait until morning,” Levi said.

“Levi! I’m shutting the power down!” Xander yelled.

“Alright, I’ll be there in a few minutes!” Levi yelled back. “Boy am I gonna get it,” he commented. “You know, that guy is gonna get me into a lot of trouble.”

“Oh, Arco excels at that,” Bob said before the two retreated into the garage as the lights turned off around them.

 

Since it's Halloween, and I'm trying not to be the curmudgeon that shakes a stick at the darned kids on my lawn. So, I'll try to be in the spirit and give you all a treat. Or a trick. Or a trap.

You following my thought track?

Anyways, well-deserved TAGS (and I'm probably spamming you with these by now, but I don't care because it's your Alerts box, not mine ) to Tim Battershell, jcgoble3, Trieste

And remember, may the Treats be with You.



Me’lin sat down on the sofa, completely unable to move due to her massive pregnant stomach. Eight and a half months or so, maybe it was nine, had passed since she and Gark had accidentally conceived, and she was ready for the baby to come out. She was sick of sitting around; housework was virtually impossible now, and the soreness she was getting in her feet and back was hellish. Besides, she could barely change outfits; she wanted to wear a pretty maternity dress when the weather was nice, but she was just too sore to want to change. So there she sat watching the Holo while the pains continued in her gut every so often when the baby kicked.

There was a C-section planned for the next day, and that meant the end of the pregnancy period and the beginning of another baby’s stay in the S’rily home. This day had seemed so far away months earlier, almost like it would never come. Each day her belly became a slight bit more swollen, and she was ready to get that done with. Childbirth was not an easy process as she remembered, and given how the whole process was almost complete, it gave her a little bit of hope that at least she wouldn’t get the dangerous contractions this time around. Or at least she hoped not. She had heard that C-sections were much easier than the normal birth, but then again, the memories of that last one she had still stuck firmly in the back of her mind. She wanted to be certain that this was the way to go.

Gark finally joined her on the sofa. “By this time tomorrow, we’ll have another one to deal with,” he said.

“Yes,” Me’lin replied. “And I’m ready for it. Been a long time coming.”

“Well, enjoy your last day of being a mom-to-be,” Gark said. “We’re not having another one after all this.”

“You never know, biology might make it so,” Me’lin said with a wry grin on her face. “And we might have the power to do it again.”

“Don’t go there,” Gark warned her.

“I know,” Me’lin said. She had obviously been joking. “Actually, I think we’re fine with three kids; two of our own, and Mykal. That’s the right number.”

“And here we thought we would never have even one,” Gark commented.

“I’m glad those days have passed. Galin’s brought us so much joy over the years,” Me’lin said, “and I hope the new baby does as well.”

“We’ll see when tomorrow arrives,” Gark commented.

“You sound worried,” Me’lin said.

“I’m more anxious than anything, just to get this over with. I’m not looking forward to the sleepless nights again.”

“I know things will be difficult, but we have to be positive. It’s a new beginning for us.”

---

The next day, the C-section went as scheduled. The boys were at school, so they didn’t have to worry about being left home alone. Galin likely wouldn’t understand the process, and Mykal likely wasn’t going to fill him in, even if he knew. Some things were better left unsaid.

As for Me’lin, it was definitely a piece of work. Birthing a child was no picnic, and she had a hard time with it. However, unlike the prior time, Gark was there with her every step of the way. He grasped her hand tightly as she pushed, the sweat running down her face in droves. He was a calming influence for her, like he said all those years ago that he would be when she needed help. His wife appreciated the gesture, even though she was in major pain. There would be no longing for him to be at her side; he indeed was helping her through the discomfort.

Finally, after the process was completed, a tiny Twi’lek, headtails and all, was finally born, and was quickly bundled up in a blanket, still crying from being roughly taken out of the stomach of its mother.

Me’lin took several breaths as she stared at the blanket, dazed from the effort. At least this time she was conscious and breathing normally. What gender was it? Boy or girl?

“It’s a girl,” the doctor, a female Cathar, said. She then handed the infant to her mother. Me’lin hugged her new daughter close to her body, the baby still not opening its eyes as she breathed real air for the first time.

“If it’s a girl, then . . .” Gark said. He remembered what name he and his wife had come up with for a girl.

“Cecilia,” Me’lin gasped, completely winded. And so Cecilia S’rily was finally christened, rough entrance into life and all.

The Cathar doctor then spoke up again. “As you can see, she has small patches of fur in several places, including on the ears. It may be an issue for her later on in life. High school girls are merciless. We can remove those fur patches for good if you would like.”

Me’lin looked to Gark, who stared at Cecilia. Galin had been lucky that he didn’t have braintails . . . but girls were more objectified in the society they lived in. If the newborn baby had to suffer a little pain now to prevent heckling issues later, then she was all for it.

“Do it,” Me’lin said. “I want her to be happy with herself.”

The doctors were gone for an hour, and when they returned, Cecilia was devoid of fur on her body. Now she had smooth skin. She was bawling her head off, but the doctors knew that she wasn’t their problem. Now Me’lin had hold of her child once more, and she lightly kissed the baby. Her little angel was here in her hands, and she loved every moment of it. The pregnancy had been hard to deal with, but now it had paid off with this small child.

“She has your eyes,” Gark remarked.

“And your good looks,” Me’lin said with a weak smile. She was exhausted from the effort, but still had enough to hold her child. “Welcome to the galaxy, baby. Mommy loves you.”

The S’rily family would never be the same.

 

Cece S'rily? Say that five times fast.

Also, I just now read the last four posts in this thread, having saved them for a rainy day. When the dream sequence started I could not help but have a huge grin on my face. I can only wait to see how more characters show up in the dream.

 

TAGS to Tim Battershell, jcgoble3 (who's probably bursting with anticipation for this story), and Trieste


Gark stole another glance at the chrono on the wall. Five minutes until he was going to check out for the week. He steeled his nerves and powered through the last application on his desk. It was an order for parts, and he stamped it with approval. It was Ondal’s company on Nipseb, and the terms looked good. For all his quirks, Ondal was a trustworthy businessman, always filling his contracts, always staying on time.

Five minutes later, Gark shut off the Holo terminal on his desk and grabbed his jacket from the rack. He had important things to get to at home today, so he had no time to spend after work. Taking his folder with him that had all of his important information, he left his office, exchanged a few words with the security officer assigned to his office, and then bade farewell to his staff for the week.

It was a somewhat long ride home, as traffic seemed especially bad today. It was as if everyone else had the same idea as he had. As he sat in traffic, he listened to the audio files being played over the air, trying to use them to lower his stress level. He just wanted to get home to his beautiful wife, his sons, and his very young daughter. They made all the work he did on a regular basis worth it. And today was especially important.

Finally, after a forty-five minute commute home, he pulled into the driveway, where he was immediately accosted by Galin. The young boy and his brother were out on summer vacation, so they stayed home all day. Mykal had picked up part-time work stocking shelves at the local grocery; Gark had told the teen that it would build a work ethic, and that it was important for him to make some money on his own. The senior-to-be didn’t like the work, but it kept him busy during his work hours. Galin, according to Me’lin, spent a lot of time in his room playing with his toys, and watched a lot of Holo. She didn’t want him to turn into a Holo junkie, and sometimes forced him outside to play instead of staying indoors. Gark wasn’t sure where he stood on this, but he would play games with Galin outdoors when he got home from work or from Team HQ.

“When are we going?” Galin asked.

“Easy, son. We don’t go anywhere until tomorrow.”

“But I wanna go now!”

“You’ll get there soon enough,” Gark said, ruffling his son’s fur a little bit. The two of them entered the house, and Gark got a big kiss from Me’lin upon entrance.

“How was work today?” she asked.

“A lot of busywork,” Gark replied. “Not always fun having to go through parts order forms and applications. But the week’s over, and now we get to have a little fun.”

The fun he was referring to was the two-week cruise he and his family were taking to the Mid Rim. They were scheduled to take off from a starport on the other side of Coruscant at 0600 the next day on the adventure; it had been hard to free up enough time to go, but Gark had managed it. Having Londy Whiste worked out in spades for the Bothan; Whiste knew how to keep things running smoothly at the company in Gark’s absence.

The cruise itself, on a sleek modern starliner, the Regal Majestic, was a high-roller trip. It proved to be more expensive than the average cruise, but both Gark and Me’lin had agreed that the destination was optimal, and that it would give them a chance to get away. From images they had seen on the Holo, the ship itself was going to be quite enjoyable, and hopefully would provide them a lot to do while in transit between planets.

That night he found it difficult to sleep. For some reason he was excited about the trip, and he couldn’t shut off the thoughts in his mind. He knew the alarm next to his bed was primed to go off at any moment to rudely wake him, and it made for a rough night of sleep. He somehow managed about four hours before it went off at 0415. Groggily he got up to check on Cecilia in her crib while Me’lin finished packing her last bag.

The young Twi’lek was asleep, and Gark made sure to sniff down near her diaper to make sure that it didn’t need changing. Somehow it didn’t, and he was able to get his daughter into her stroller while Me’lin zipped up the last bag. They loaded the speeder with their luggage, and then ate a quick breakfast as Galin and Mykal readied themselves. By 0450, they were off.

At 0520, they made it to the gate. But Gark knew that he was waiting for something . . . or someone. “We can’t go on yet,” he said.

“Why not?” Me’lin asked.

“I’m waiting. Shouldn’t be long,” Gark said.

Me’lin just rolled her eyes. She didn’t like to hear that Gark had something he was hiding from her. She had dealt with too much of that over the prior year.

Luckily for the Bothan, the wait wasn’t long. Five minutes later, a familiar voice came to his ears. “You realize that I don’t like getting up this bloody early when I don’t have to,” the woman said. She appeared in a t-shirt, cargo pants, fuzzy boots, and had star-shaped sunglasses on her face.

“It’s not my fault they decided to leave port early like this,” Gark said to the newcomer. She pulled off her sunglasses to reveal the all-too-familiar face of Nat’alia Patrovish.

“Nat, what are you doing here?” Me’lin inquired. She and the Hapan had been part of the support team for Gark as Superbothan in 272.

“The boss asked me to come along on the trip,” Nat said without missing a beat. “And I figured that if he was paying for it, might as well enjoy getting some time off.”

“You what?” Me’lin asked, turning to Gark. “What’s she talking about?”

“Security, Lin,” Gark said. “Even though this is supposedly a secure passenger liner, I wanted to make sure I brought along my own security personnel. The safety of our family is paramount to me, especially for Galin and Cecilia. They can’t defend themselves. So I’ve paid for a room for Nat to stay in while she performs security duties for us on the trip.”

“Then just tell me what you need me to do,” Nat said. “You have my ticket?”

“Yep, right here,” Gark said. He transferred Nat’s ticket to her datapad. “But you can’t go on yet.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Nat asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Look, in order to maintain maximum effectiveness, you can’t be easily discernable as our security. So you’re going to have to try and maintain a separate identity,” the Bothan told his security agent.

“What kind of identity?” Nat asked.

“A clever disguise,” Gark said. “I see you’ve already got a good start on it,” he said, motioning to Nat’s eclectic choice of clothes.

“Can’t be too careful,” the Hapan commented.

“You’re going to be part of a newlywed couple who’s on their honeymoon,” Gark said. “If anyone asks you, that’s why you’re here. You don’t officially work for us, just know us. I was the Best Man at the wedding.”

“There’s only one problem,” Nat said with a frown.

“What’s that?”

“If I’m supposed to be newly-married, then where is my pseudo-betrothed?”

“Right there,” Gark said, pointing off in the distance. Nat turned around to see a lanky man carrying two luggage bags and wearing a t-shirt and shorts. He had shoulder-length brown hair, but his face looked familiar . . .



“Bucky?” Nat asked.

“Hey,” Bucky Darnes said as he came up to greet them. “Been a while.”

“Yes it has, Bucky. Welcome back,” Gark said to his former agent, the sniper who had kept them safe several times.

“Bucky?” Nat asked incredulously.

“Nat? It’s been ages!” Bucky said. “How are things? Haven’t seen you in years.”

“Long story. We can cover it on the ship,” Nat said.

“Bucky, I need you and Nat to stay close. Remember, married couple,” Gark said with a wink.

“I’ll get you back for this,” Nat said angrily, but Gark chose to ignore her. They went on to the ship, the S’rily family going first. Gark asked the staff if they could arrange the dinner seating so that the two groups could sit together.

“I was Best Man at the wedding, so Dys is a friend of mine. Can you do that for us?” Gark asked.

“I think so,” the staffer said.

“Much obliged,” Gark replied before moving on.

When Nat and Bucky had their tickets checked, the staffer took a look at the names. “Ah, welcome aboard, Mr. Ant. And Mrs. Ant, nice to see you. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said. Nat stifled a laugh. This was all so absurd. They went on board.

“So, what’s my codename for this one?” Nat asked.

“Well . . .” Bucky said as he looked at the ticket. “My name is Mr. Dizt Ant, ace attorney. And you are Miss Cree Ant, renowned painter.”

“Cree Ant? Did he come up with this crap on a random name generator or something?” Nat asked.

“Dunno. It’s probably like asking if Limmie games are determined by a random number generator,” Bucky offered.

“Touche,” Nat said. They went off to their room, which they were going to have to share for the voyage. Nat knew that she was going to get the bed; Bucky would just have to sleep on the floor or on a sofa. Just because they were playing a married couple didn’t mean they had to act like one in their guest room.

When the S’rilys checked into their room, Galin immediately wanted to sleep on the sofa bed. Me’lin asked him why, but the boy seemed insistent. So he got that bed. Mykal was going to get his own bed, and Cecilia had a crib near the foot of the large bed that her parents would be sleeping in.

As they unpacked their luggage, Me’lin had something to say. “I hope this trip is worth it.”

“How so?” Gark asked.

“I hope it helps us get away,” Me’lin said. “After all, it’s our first trip out with Cecilia.”

“And hopefully it will be a good one because of that,” Gark said. Me’lin smiled and then kept unpacking her luggage.

They hoped it would be a good voyage.

 

Love it! Getting the team back together (kind of).

 

"Miss Cree Ant"? Are you sure that's not a commentary on Nat's behavior of wearing cargo pants and fuzzy boots? That's almost bad as a mini skirt and fuzzy boots.

 

Next piece of the story. Could be the only one for a while, but at least it gets things going.


TAGS to Tim Battershell, Trieste, jcgoble3



“I could get used to this,” Gark said as he stared out at the black void of space out the viewport. “Just a chance to sit back and relax while eating dinner. Anyone else agree with me?”

“Yeah, sure,” Galin said as he tried to scarf his food down.

“Galin! Don’t speak with your mouth full, and slow down!” Me’lin reprimanded her son. She rapped her knuckle against the table to prove her anger, and Galin stopped. He looked to his father.

“She’s right, kiddo. Slow down and enjoy your food,” Gark said. Galin sighed and started to eat his food slowly. Gark turned to Mykal. “Mykal, how goes it?”

“It’s OK,” the teen said. “Not my choice of food.”

“Eh, you’ll live with it,” Gark said. “After all, there’s no rush. We’re not in a hurry to go anywhere, no one is home late from work or school. We don’t have to sit with Cecilia crying her head off . . .”

Me’lin punched Gark in the shoulder, and he grimaced. “Cecilia doesn’t know any better,” the Twi’lek said sternly. “She’s only hungry, that’s all.”

Gark rolled his eyes and continued to eat. The four of them were sitting at a table on the edge of the dining room. The other passengers were arrayed out towards the center of the room, with tables every so often that diners sat at. Everyone was wearing fancy formal attire for dinner; it was expected that they do so. Gark, Mykal, and Galin all wore tuxes, while Me’lin wore her famous white (she said silver, but Gark always insisted it was more white than silver) dress from the 275 Elite League Awards ceremony. While she had gained a few pounds from her pregnancy with Cecilia, she had done her best to slim down to where Gark felt that she rocked the dress. Still, you could tell the scars on her stomach from the pregnancies; those were unmistakable if you looked hard enough. Yet it didn’t bother her.

Cecilia was off in the nursery on board the ship. Although it wasn’t a family-oriented cruise, there were still enough young children under the age of 3 who were being brought on board that the ship nursery and childcare center was open and active. After feeding Cecilia, her parents had handed her over to the staff before going to dinner with their sons. Me’lin felt a little apprehensive about leaving her precious daughter behind like that, but Gark had assured her that it was only for an hour or so. Besides, he said, it was a better alternative than bringing CeCe to the dining room and having her bawling the whole time, which would piss off the other diners. There was no need for that, he explained, and finally his wife gave in to his reasoning.

“How’s it going over there?” Gark finally asked as he turned to look at Bucky and Nat at the next table over. Bucky had pulled his hair back into a neat ponytail, with a finely-pressed blazer and slacks. Nat wore the same knee-cut dress that she had once worn while trying to seduce Gark during the Binn Kinshry. It definitely made up for her less-than-stellar outfit choice when coming onboard the ship, but Gark guessed that the whole outfit was part of a plan to ‘mix in’. The Bothan didn’t see it, because Nat looked like she belonged with the teenagers at the mall more than a newlywed on her honeymoon. But as long as no one called her out on it, he couldn’t say anything to change her mind. Nat was stubborn like that, and oftentimes it was best to leave her be on matters such as that.

“Food’s pretty good,” Bucky said. “Tastes better than reheated packaged noodles in a cup.”

“And I take it that’s the majority of your diet?” Nat said.

“Guilty as charged,” Bucky said, shrugging.

Gark then leaned in a little closer. “We all safe right now?” Bucky nodded.

“I did a sweep fifteen minutes ago,” he said. “Designed cleverly as a retreat to the ‘fresher. Got a nice look at things. Shouldn’t be any problem.”

Minutes later, the waiter came over to serve their table, and Gark had to stifle his laughter as Nat’s face almost turned beet red as the waiter lauded her supposed marriage to the man sitting across the table from her. Bucky looked a bit more in-line with the disguise, but Nat certainly didn’t. Hopefully her reaction would be taken as a blush, and not as anger. Gark wasn’t sure which it was, but he figured that Nat would rather be hiding under a rock than being subjected to this talk. Finally the waiter moved away, and Nat could take a sigh of relief.

“Seems like we’re in good shape,” Gark said with a chuckle as he turned back to his family’s table.

Meanwhile, there was a private space that a high-roller had set up his dinner party in. Over the din of the crowded dining room, Gark couldn’t catch a word of what was going on in there. Of course, they were on the other end of the dining room from the walled-off portion, so it was understandable.

The high-roller, a graying human male, stood up. “I want to thank you all for your kind words,” he said. Some of his colleagues raised their glasses to toast him. “A birthday is special in more ways than one. It makes you feel wiser, and also one day closer to death. I think I like the first option a lot better.” Some laughs came from his compatriots. “So today I celebrate my 57th year of life, and things couldn’t be better. My sons are all through college and are in the business, and things are going swell thanks to all of you. Here’s to continued success in the future for all of you, and for my family going forward.” He motioned to a servant, who readied to cut a large cake that was sitting on a pedestal that was fixed to a podium so as to be body-high. “Because there’s nothing that can stop me from enjoying this day . . .”

The server cut into the cake using a knife. Its soft layers crunched as the implement went through, and it looked delicious.

The only problem was that he wouldn’t get to enjoy it.

BANG!

Gark had just heard the noise when he felt the table leave its spot in front of him and smash into the wall. He ended up having his chair spun around by its force, and the chair landed on its side and unceremoniously dumped him on the floor. The shock of the explosion that he had heard, plus the shattering glass, stunned him momentarily. When he got his wits about him moments later, he immediately thought of the table. Rolling over a little on his elbows, he looked to where the table had smashed itself into the wall. “Galin!” he exclaimed. The boy had been sitting on the other side of the table, the side that was now planted into the wall.

The Bothan began to worry that his son had been impaled by the table. He leapt to his feet and then pushed the table away from the wall. It was heavy, and several dishes and food scraps flopped around, but he didn’t care. A little bit of lost food was a small price to pay to find his son. There was Galin, sitting on the floor. Gark bent down to check on his son, and he stared into the boy’s scared eyes. “You hurt, kid?” Gark asked. Galin shook his head. “You alright?” the elder Bothan asked.

“I . . . I think . . . I think so . . .” Galin stammered out. He looked more scared than anything; a quick check of his face found no major bruising; he likely had been terrorized, and not physically hurt.

Gark stood up and looked at the scene around him. The walls that had once housed the private dining room space had all fallen down or had been splintered entirely. Tables had been knocked over, their food contents flying everywhere.

And then there were the bodies. Gark couldn’t tell which were injured and which were corpses; it was difficult to tell in the smoky haze that surrounded the dining room. An incredible stench of explosives reached his nostrils, a pungent odor he was all too familiar with. And then he could smell the charred flesh, the scent of the dying. It was like a war zone. He could hear faint cries for help, likely by those a sliver away from meeting the Maker. It was a terrible scene.

And yet he still had two unaccounted for. He wheeled around again and began to search for Mykal and Me’lin. It didn’t take long to find Mykal; his head was visible above the table. Gark went to him; the teen looked nicked up, but otherwise fine. Next to him, panting heavily, was Me’lin. “Lin, are you alright?” Gark asked, kneeling down to check on his wife. She nodded meekly.

“I kept her safe from the table,” Mykal said. “But my back hurts.”

“Let me check,” Gark said. He ran his hands over Mykal’s back, and the teen grimaced in pain. “Does this hurt?” Gark asked as he carefully examined his adopted son’s back.

“Yeah,” Mykal said.

“Badly?”

“I think I can walk,” Mykal said.

“Look, Mike, you don’t need to be the hero,” Gark said. “If it hurts too badly, you don’t risk it.”

“Is Galin alright?” Me’lin asked, extricating herself from the wall and Mykal’s protection.

“He’s fine,” Gark said. “We need to get Mykal medical treatment if at all possible.”

“What happened?” Me’lin asked. “I heard an explosion, then the table came at me . . . Mykal protected me, but . . .” She turned to Mykal. “You OK, Mykal?”

“I think so,” the teen said feebly.

“What’s going on?” came a familiar voice. Gark turned to see Nat and Bucky standing behind them, pretty much unscathed.

“How’d you not get injured?” Gark asked.

“We were both facing the explosion site. And our table didn’t shoot backwards; it just fell over,” Nat explained. “We were able to get out from underneath it without any injuries.”

“Find us some med kits,” Gark said. “Mykal could use some treatment for a back injury.”

“It’ll be hard to find those,” Bucky said. “After all, it’s . . .” But he never finished the statement, because a blaster bolt rang out and he fell to the ground. Nat looked back, shocked, and realized that things weren’t over.

On the other side of the dining room, several white-coated men were firing their weapons at another crew of white-shirted men. Obviously one group were employees, the other imposters. But there was no telling who was which. The sounds of the bolts echoed around the room, covering up the sounds of the helpless.

“Bucky?” Gark asked. The sniper raised his head.

“Frak, that was too close,” Bucky said, lifting himself off the ground. “I never thought there would be a battle in here.”

“And that’s our only way out,” Gark said, looking at where the fighting was going on.

“No, there is another,” Nat commented. “We just need to get to it. Something’s up, and we’re in position right now to stop it.”

“But how? We don’t even know what we’re up against,” Gark said. He looked at an injured Ishi Tib passenger, who was staggering around with a limp arm. One of the white-shirted men with his back to the injured man turned around and shot him dead on the spot. The body of the passenger hit the floor with a thud.

“This is serious,” Gark said when he saw the blatant murder. He then hid himself behind an overturned table, and Bucky and Nat did the same. “So how in the hell are we going to get out?”

“We’ll have to force our way out. Create a diversion, and get everyone out,” Nat said.

“But how? Mykal and Galin are pretty banged up . . .”

“I’ll cover you. Just get them out of here,” Nat said. She lifted up the hem of her dress and pulled out a concealed holdout blaster from a side holster. It wasn’t a big weapon, but it still packed a lethal punch.

“How’d you get that in through security?” Me’lin asked.

“It’s pretty easy, frankly,” Bucky said. He grabbed a blaster out of his pocket and snapped a power pack in. “As long as you can hide it inside other things, you can sneak in pretty much anything.”

The battle between the white-coats was pretty one-sided. The one group was obviously well-trained, and the other was weak. Many of them lay dead on the floor, and the few remaining survivors were hoping to hold out as they got mowed down one by one.

“We need to go now before those employees run out of bodies to fight back with,” Nat said. “Go!”

Gark emerged from the table’s cover, and Bucky tossed him a weapon. The Bothan picked up Galin, and then made a run for the door. One of the fighters noticed him and fired a shot in his direction. It was wide of the mark, and Gark made it to the door. Now Mykal, with a busted back, struggled to go as Me’lin and Bucky tried to help him off. Nat stood up and waited for any enemies to fire at them. Some of the victorious fighters began to change targets now that most of their enemies were dispatched, and started to shoot at the three as they struggled along. Nat picked her target and fired, downing one of the enemies immediately with a well-placed shot to the chest. The Hapan had to duck as blaster bolts hit the table in front of her, causing sparks to fly. This was enough of a diversion to get the three to the door, and now Nat was the only one left in the room. She squeezed off a few shots, and then knew it was time to move.

Full attention was now being paid to Nat as she cowered behind the table. Gark knew he had to do something. He stepped out from the cover and then fired off some shots as covering fire. That allowed Nat a chance to stumble her way across the mess of tables, injured passengers, and food on her way to the door. Somehow she managed to get to safety, and the six of them exited the dining room before more blaster bolts whizzed past them.

Then the sound of another explosion, potentially even larger than the first one, shot out of the hallway, and the ship groaned. It was a sickening sound, to hear a ship like this one be rocked by explosions. Gark could feel his momentum take him forward, but he tried to put on the brakes. Yet it became impossible as the entire ship began to list to the side. The hallway became a slide, and the group began to zoom down the hallway. At one point Gark even went airborne as the ship slowly keeled even further to the side.

When Gark hit the wall, it was a hard thump. He was able to get his knees to take the majority of the blow, but he barely got out of the way before Mykal nailed the wall hard, and winced in even more pain. Then the keeling stopped.

“Are we stopped?” Bucky asked, bewildered as he poked his head out from the mass of bodies stuck along the wall.

“I think so,” Me’lin commented.

“Oh frak,” Nat said. She looked up at the ceiling. Gark followed her gaze. The floor they had been running along was now on the ceiling. The Bothan looked down and saw that he was sitting near a very hot glowpanel. Those weren’t on the floor; they were ceiling lights.

It could only mean one thing. The ship had turned completely upside-down.

 

Um... wow. Gark, put your thinking cap on. There is no up or down in space, so clearly that last explosion screwed with the artificial gravity generators. Right, Gark?

Let's see where this goes from here!

 

That must be it!

 

TAGS to Tim Battershell, jcgoble3, Trieste



“This is awkward,” Bucky said as the group walked along the ceiling of the ship. “Never thought I would be walking on the ceiling.”

“The gravity generators must have been hit,” Nat commented. “That’s the only reason we’re in this ridiculous position.”

“So what are we going to do about it?” Gark inquired, wondering if the two security agents could come up with a brilliant plan to get them out of the pickle they now found themselves in.

“Well, it’s obvious that we’re going to have a difficult time doing anything,” Nat said. “Being upside-down means that it’s going to be hard to get back to ground level, or at least to what ‘up’ is in space . . .”

“We need to get back to our cabin,” Bucky said. “Something’s going on here.”

“So you’re just going to hide in a cabin that isn’t even right-side-up?” Me’lin asked, shaking her head at this ridiculous notion.

“We have some gear in there to pick up,” Bucky said. “Come on.”

The group, six strong, went through the door at the other end of the hallway into the stairwell. It wasn’t the main staircase by any means; it looked like a back stairs at a roadside motel: not fancy, and the carpet colors were garish. But it would do the job . . . at least if they weren’t on the opposite side from them.

“And how in the hell are we supposed to access them?” Me’lin asked. “We can’t exactly walk up stairs that are on the ceiling from here . . .”

“We could use the lift . . .” Gark said optimistically.

“The lift? Are you crazy?” Nat retorted. “The enemy, whoever they are, will expect us to use the lift. I wouldn’t be surprised if stuff was happening around there that we don’t want to get involved in.”

“Then what’s your other solution?” Gark asked. “We’re not exactly going anywhere just by standing here talking.”

“Wait, we’re not dead yet,” Bucky said. He looked around the side of the nearest stair landing. “We’re in luck. This staircase goes both directions, up and down. At least relative to where we are.”

“So?” Me’lin inquired.

“Even though we can’t reach the lower levels, we can still go up,” Bucky said. “It’s not exactly going to get us where we need to get to, but . . .”

“And why in the hell would we need to go up?” Me’lin aksed. She was starting to get a little bit hysterical. “There’s nothing on top of the ship that is very important . . .”

“The artificial gravity generators,” Nat said, cutting off the Twi’lek mid-sentence. “They’re up in the command center.”

“How do you know that?” Gark asked.

“I checked out the specs on this ship before coming. You didn’t expect me to just show up without any background knowledge, did you?” Nat said dismissively.

“No, I . . . it’s just . . .”

“Look, if we can get up there, we might be able to get those things working again. And if we’re upside-down, it’s a lot easier to get to the command center than it is to get down to the cabin. The down-stairs are above us, and the up-stairs are below us. So all we need to do is take these stairs in the upwards direction, except watch your step. Since the staircases are backwards, so will the stairs themselves. Be careful, and go slowly. No need to slip and hurtle down . . . or, technically, up . . . the stairs.”

“Or we could just get to the cabin the hard way,” Bucky offered.

“And how do you suggest we do that?” Gark asked.

“There are too many of us to do that, Bucky,” Nat said icily. “We have to go up.”

“But I wanted to get the gear,” Bucky protested.

“We don’t have time, Darnes!” Nat said angrily, snapping Bucky’s will with this statement. “Right now, if we don’t get this ship righted, we’re not getting to the cabin to get any of our gear. So we just need to go up and see if that stabilizer can be fixed. If not, we’ll find another way down . . . or up . . .”

“Wait a second,” Gark interjected. “These stairs here go down normally, correct?” he asked, pointing to the stairs that they could easily access.

“Correct.,” Me’lin said to finish her husband’s statement.

“That means if ‘down’ is really above us, then . . .”

“All we need to do is go up these stairs that will take us down,” Bucky finished. “Brilliant.”

“But it still doesn’t deal with our problem of being upside-down in a lame duck cruise ship in the middle of nowhere on the galactic charts,” Nat said, frowning. “Say we get the gear. What then, Bucky? How are we going to get off this ship if we’re stuck on the ceiling of every room we enter? At some point something’s going to give.”

“We need that gear,” Bucky said, ignoring Nat. “Come on!” He started up the stairs, which were actually the backs of the regular down stairs.

“Careful, those don’t look stable,” Me’lin said to Gark as the Bothan tried to help Mykal and his bad back along. “I’ll take Galin.”

“Let’s go!” Gark said. He helped Mykal hobble up the stairs, one at a time. It was hard to get the teen up them, but finally they were able to go two floors to where the security agents’ cabin was located. Nat busted the door open and walked out into the hallway ceiling.

“Unfortunately, now we have another problem,” the Hapan said. “The door is all the way up there,” she said, pointing.

“Leave that to me,” Bucky said. He slid a small toolkit out from his belt and found a grappling hook. He loaded it into the blaster he was carrying. When the hook was loaded, the man used the ascension gun in his blaster; the hook found a crag to snap into, and he rocketed up to the level of the door.

“Hurry! We don’t have much time!” Gark reminded the long-haired human agent.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” Bucky said. He slid his room key through the card reader, and the door opened. He let the hook go and shot into the room. While suspended in midair momentarily, Bucky then realized that he had nowhere to land but on the furniture that had not been secured to the ground. That included the bags he was looking for. He hurtled down to the ceiling, where some pillows and blankets that had been in the closet but had somehow escaped custody softened the blow as he made impact. He shook off the hit and then scrounged in the dark for the bags.

When he finally found them, he hoisted them over his shoulder and then looked up. It was odd to see the bed, big enough for two beings, to be looming above where he now stood. This whole thing was too wacky for him, and he knew that getting out of here would be a good idea. No need to let the bed be cut loose from its moorings and squish him. So he used his grappling gun to catch hold of the end of the bed. Somehow the hook didn’t make connection, and the hook came screaming back at the shooter. Bucky barely got out of the way in time before the hook sliced open a pillow, forcing it to spill its guts in the process. “That won’t work,” he said to himself as he gathered the hook again.

If the bed wasn’t good enough to use as a leverage hook, maybe something else was. He scanned the rest of the room. The sofa wasn’t good enough, nor was the endtable that was now sitting next to him in a pile of rubbish on the ceiling that was now acting as the floor. Then he found the sink; it was somehow still in place. And it had a metal drain pipe. That was perfect.

“Gotta make the perfect shot,” the sniper muttered to himself. He closed his eyes and composed himself; he had shot through smaller windows than this before when on military duty. But it would have to be exactly precise; even if he got the hook into the drain and it could hold his weight, it would still need to be enough to get him out of the room on one swing. No need to lose the pendulum momentum and then be impaled on a sharp piece of what used to be the endtable. Taking a deep breath, he shot the grappling hook at the drain. It clanked around a little in the relative darkness, and Bucky just hoped it would work.

Then he felt the tug of a secure connection. He only had one chance at this. The trigger was pressed, and he shot into the air, bags over his shoulder. The drain creaked under the intense weight it was now being asked to take on, and the sink began to pull out of the cabinet. Bucky found himself shooting towards the door, and then he finally let the grappling hook go. It let itself free right before the sink popped free and joined the endtable down in pieces on the other side of the room. Bucky then shot out of the door without any means of stopping his momentum.

Somehow he was able to turn around in midair and use his feet to hit the wall halfway up. That allowed him to brace himself for impact before finally hitting down. Mykal and Gark were able to catch Bucky as he came down, although it knocked both of them to the ground in the process. Bucky looked at Gark, who was sprawled down underneath the human’s backside.

“Thanks. I owe you one,” Bucky said with a slight grin.

“Yeah. You could get off me,” Gark said, obviously not amused. Bucky rolled off, and the Bothan sat up. “Now we have to hope that whole venture was worth the price we paid.”

“Oh, it will be,” Bucky said. “Trust me.” He tossed one of the bags to Nat, who unzipped it effortlessly. Out came a jumble of clothing, supplies, and various pieces of metallic objects.

“What is this junk?” Gark inquired. It looked like a real mess.

“This is our gear pile. Don’t let its appearance fool you, though; it’s going to help us get out of this mess,” Bucky said, his grin widening. He grabbed one of the metal pieces, then another, and finally a third, and within fifteen seconds had put together a dangerous-looking blaster weapon. It looked prefabricated, so all the parts fit right in like a glove. “Like this. It’s something I’ve been working on for a while. Pretty powerful sucker.”

“You scrounge all the parts?”

“Yep. Then I machined them down to the right size so that they fit together. It’s got the punch of . . . well, less-savory weapons . . . with the usability of an older military rifle. It’s pretty easy to carry, but packs a potent payload. Plus I’ve rigged it so that the power pack doesn’t overheat all the time; it’s a nifty little gizmo, and this is coming from a guy who loves long-distance rifles.”

“Plus we have these,” Nat said, pulling some dark-blue uniforms out of the pile. “Here, put these on.” She had another one in her hand.

“What are these for?” Gark asked as he took one of the suits from Nat. He opened it up to find a standard action suit like what Nat herself usually wore while on the Superbothan missions in 272.

“They’re for you looking your best,” Nat said. “But to be honest, they’re not going to protect you much. Really, they’re old designer suits made back for the project. Our tech . . . don’t remember his name right now . . . he made them for all of us. Most of you just never used yours. I know Dun Dun never did . . . always preferred that stupid jacket of his.”

“So what are they good for?” Me’lin asked.

“Makes you more aerodynamic, which could be helpful in this situation,” Nat said. “Besides, anything is better than a dress and high heels. But since we’re in a rush here, let’s get this stuff on.” She was already pulling her dress off, and Gark knew that Me’lin would kill him if he ogled too much at Nat’s lithe body.

But Me’lin was also taking off her dress. She felt sad that it required her to take off the pretty dress, because she liked it so much. Yet it wouldn’t do her any good at this juncture; she had no other choice. Gark ripped off his tux coat and slacks and put the suit on. It did indeed fit like a glove, with very pliable material.

When all four of them were in their new action suits, Nat tossed their old clothes in the bags and then tossed them aside.

“What are you doing?” Me’lin stammered. “My dress . . .”

“We can come back for this stuff later,” Nat said, motioning to the bags. “Right now, you need weapons. Here, catch,” she said, tossing a blaster to Gark. He caught it and then took a quick look at it; looked like more than he bargained for.

“This isn’t standard-issue,” he said. “Can’t ever play by the rules, can you, Nat?”

“I’ve found the rules to be more . . . what do you call it . . . guidelines . . . more than actual rules,” Nat said with a sly grin. She was obviously more in her element here than she was in a knee-length black dress.

“Besides, there are no rules in a fight,” Bucky said. “We’ve just gotta make sure we survive.”

“And here I was hoping I could leave this all behind,” Gark bemoaned. It was true; he didn’t always like having to reprise his crimefighting persona. It had nearly gotten him killed so many times he had lost count. And it had threatened to pull he and Me’lin apart; he didn’t want to stomach any more of those potential breaking points on his relationship.

Me’lin was tossed a blaster, and then Gark caught a utility belt. “That one’s got some nasty stuff on it,” Nat said. “A thermal detonator or two, some assorted tools, some explosive powder, and a flash-bang.”

“I don’t suppose it’s got a grappling hook on it?” Gark asked.

“Nope. You’re lucky I was able to sneak this much through security,” Nat said as she fastened her utility belt around her waist. “And make sure to activate your headsets.”

“We don’t have . . .” Gark began, but then Bucky tossed he and Me’lin headsets. Gark put his on. “Now we do,” the Bothan finished.

“And now all we need to do is . . .” Nat said, but she was cut off. A blaster bolt rang out in the hallway, and everyone snapped around to look at the intruder. It was a white-collared being from the earlier fight, likely one from the trained side. He was brandishing his weapon menacingly.

But he didn’t get a chance to do anything, because Me’lin shot him dead on the spot. The man’s body fell to the ground limply, and everyone turned to look at the Twi’lek.

“Where’d that come from?” Bucky asked, his jaw dropping a little.

“They’ve threatened my husband . . . they’ve threatened my children,” Me’lin said. “And now they’re messing with me.” She pulled out a hair tie and tied her headtails together so that they weren’t going in two different directions anymore. Now they were snapped together like they were when she was in bed, so as to not whack Gark in the face with one of them during the night. Then she turned around to face Gark.

But the Bothan saw the act in slow motion. He could see the woman’s head snap towards him, like it would in a Holo. The woman the hero got in the end usually did something like that to catch the hero’s eye, to make him lust for her. And it made Gark’s heart skip a beat; his wife looked hot. The suit captured her figure even better than he originally thought.

“Let’s do this,” Me’lin said.

“Let’s,” Gark said. He looked into Me’lin’s eyes, and her into his. They knew this would be a dangerous mission, but they were going into it together.

“I hate to break up the gung-ho moment, but what do we do with these two?” Nat asked, pointing to Galin and Mykal. “They can’t fight.”

“Mykal, can you help us?” Me’lin asked, turning to her adopted son.

“No. It hurts,” Mykal said with a grimace.

“I see. Well, I could take them to safety,” Bucky said.

“Where could we keep them safe?” Gark inquired. “It’s not like we can have them sitting in a room. If the gravity comes back on, they’ll fall from the ceiling onto the floor. That could kill them, especially Galin. He’s too small to survive that sort of hit.”

Then the ship shuddered, and everyone stopped talking. “Something’s going on,” Nat whispered in the silence that followed.

“We don’t have much time,” Gark said.

“But what do we do with Mykal . . .?” Me’lin asked.

“He needs to go down to the nursery, to check in on the other kids,” Gark said. “If he and Galin go up the down stairs, then he can get there. It’s only a floor down. Mykal,” he said, turning to the teen. “I need you more than ever now. Keep Galin safe, whatever the cost.”

“Got it,” Mykal said. Me’lin gave the teen a huge hug, and then he went off to the stairs with Galin in tow. The young boy looked back at his parents, like he would never see them again. It made Me’lin wonder if she would ever see her sons again. She wasn’t used to fighting while having to worry about children; it hadn’t been since the Trimfi debacle where she had dealt with such fears. But they were now being realized with Galin and Mykal walking away. When they were gone, the four fighters looked at each other.

“Now what?” Me’lin asked.

“Get upstairs, turn on the gravity projectors, and then we can go from there,” Nat said.

“Sounds like a plan,” Bucky commented. It was the best shot they had.

 

Love Me'lin not hesitating to shoot that guy.

Hope the kids will be alright.

 

Long awaited TAGS to Tim Battershell, Trieste, jcgoble3


The four adults charged back to the stairs. It was going to be difficult to get up them since they were upside-down.

“How in the hell do we get up there?” Nat asked.

“I thought you would be the one with the plan,” Gark replied curtly.

“I need time,” Nat said. “If we’re upside-down, then we need to find a way to climb down to go up.”

“To get the generators?” Bucky asked. Nat nodded.

“It’s our best chance,” she commented. “So what are we waiting for?” She charged down the up-direction stairs, and the rest followed her. It was awkward sledding, but they made their way up a floor at a time. It took them several minutes to get to the top levels, where the recreation attractions were housed. They could see the pool, sitting on the ceiling void of all water. The ceiling was flooded with all of the water, the light fixtures now out due to short-circuiting. It would be dangerous to go in there the four reasoned. No reason to be electrocuted in case there was a stray wire or source of power lurking in there.

Finally they got to the upper level where the command center was located. Nat toted her blaster when they got to the door, and Bucky smashed it open using the butt of his rifle. The door swung open, but it was eerily quiet inside. The lights were dimmed, and not a sound could be heard. “There should be generators in here,” Nat whispered. She then waved them all forward. Gark went in first, Bucky second, Me’lin third, and the Hapan last. She shut the door behind them.

Gark looked at the control panels. They were all lit up like he would expect them to be. But something was out of place here. It was too quiet. Where was the captain? What about the crew? Where were they?

Then Gark could feel a hand around his neck. It was trying to strangle him, and he grunted out in pain. The invisible force threw him into the console, and he rolled down onto the floor hard. He looked up to see an enemy behind him, ready to shoot him. But the man was cut down by Nat’s expertly-placed kick.

“They’re all over!” Bucky stated. He shot an enemy dead, but another fighter kicked the rifle from his hands. It skittered onto the floor, unable to be used by the sniper. Me’lin found herself trapped by three fighters in the corner.

“Help!” she exclaimed as two of them attacked her and the third stood by.

Gark got up from the floor and charged the third enemy. It was hard to see in the dim light of the cabin, but he was able to make contact and tackled the man to the ground. Then he could see it wasn’t a man at all. A cold-staring woman looked back at him before punching him in the face. Gark rolled over in agony, holding his face after the hard punch. The woman then got up and stomped on his gut, the pain now shooting through the Bothan’s mind. The woman’s boot continued to stab itself into his midsection, and he grunted out in pain. Finally he was able to twist her ankle enough for her to lose her balance slightly, and he made his move. He got out from underneath her foot and toppled her over by throwing her aside. She smacked into a control console and fell down. Gark then jumped towards her and landed a punch right in her face. The woman was knocked out momentarily.

Me’lin was struggling to fend off her attackers. One of them held her back while the other punched her in the stomach. The Twi’lek was glad that this hadn’t happened whilst she was pregnant; that would have hurt her and the baby. But each gut punch hurt a little more, and she struggled to try and free herself. It only got better when someone lunged for the first attacker’s knees and took them down. That gave Me’lin enough time to sink her elbows into the midsection of the attacker behind her. The distraction was perfect, since she then turned around and smacked the attacker in the face with a hard fist, and the man was downed. She then kicked the other attacker, and Bucky finished him off with a nice kick to the midsection.

Nat finished off a last fighter with a kick to the groin followed by a punch to the face. Now all the attackers were down for the count, at least at the moment. Bucky went to pick up his rifle, and made sure that it wasn’t damaged too badly. The carbine looked fine. “Now what?” he asked.

“Ah ha, exactly what I thought would be here!” Nat said. She went to a door on the other side of the control cabin, and set a charge.

“What are you doing?” Gark demanded.

“Get down!” Nat exclaimed. She sprawled out on the ground just before the explosion rocked the door, shaving the door itself clean off. In the smoke and haze, Nat entered the next room over. Inside was a bunch of smoke that hadn’t come from her explosion.

The field controls for the ship were damaged, likely beyond simple repair, Nat thought as she looked them over. “The field generators are gone,” she announced as the other three joined her. “We’ve gotta find some emergency generators to at least get this ship right-side up.”

“And where would those be located?” Gark asked.

“Down in the bowels of the ship, where they keep all the spare parts,” Bucky said. “It means that we need to get down there, or up there, so that we can flip the ship upright again.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Gark asked.

“We’ve got to split up,” Nat said. “Bucky and I will go find the generators.”

“Then what do we do?” Me’lin asked.

“We need to try and call for help,” Gark said. “The control consoles look like they’re still on. We have to send out a distress signal so that we can be rescued.”

“Then it’s set. Good luck,” Nat said. “Come on, Bucky, to the stairwell.” The two of them left the control room, and Gark and Me’lin were alone in the dark control cabin with the bodies of the baddies they had knocked out.

“Can we trust them to succeed?” Me’lin asked.

“Of course we can. We don’t have much of a choice. Nat and Bucky are pros. They saved my life several times. I trust them to get it right,” Gark said.

“This isn’t the Superbothan Initiative anymore,” Me’lin said. “Times have changed.”

“We don’t have much of a choice,” Gark reiterated. “But enough of that. Help me find an emergency code.” The two of them scoured the cabin, Me’lin finally finding an emergency glow panel to help them. Finally they secured the code and the sending device. Gark started to enter the code.

“Calling any ships in the area, this is the Regal Majestic,” Gark said when the distress signal was transmitting. “We have lost power, and are in need of help. Armed fugitives are taking control of the ship, and the crew is nowhere to be found. Send help immediately.” He sent the coordinates along with the message.

When the message was sent and set to continue sending out a signal, Gark stopped and turned to Me’lin. She looked back at him in the dark, the glow panel the only source of light besides the console buttons.

“Looks like I’ve really messed it up again this time,” he said.

“What do you mean? The signal should be sending.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Gark, what’s troubling you?” Me’lin asked.

Gark paused for a few seconds. “I’ve gotten us into another fine mess, that’s what,” he said angrily after breaking his silence. “Again.”

“We can fix this . . .”

“What in the hell am I doing, anyways?” Gark said. “Lin, when I married you six and a half years ago, I thought it would have been the end of the craziness in my life. I thought we could have settled down, could have had a nice life together. But those years have been filled with all sorts of crap. I’ve gotten us mixed in so many different fights, so many times where I, or both of us, may not have come back alive. I keep screwing up, keep getting us in these dangerous situations. This was supposed to be a nice cruise to get away from our day-to-day lives. And guess what, now it's turned into another life-or-death situation. I can’t keep endangering your life.”

Me’lin didn’t say a word.

“It’s apparent to me now that I’ve been going at this all wrong over that time,” Gark said. His stare bore into Me’lin’s. “And now I know why. I don’t deserve you.”

“What do you mean?” the Twi’lek asked.

“You deserve a lot more than me,” Gark said. “You deserve a man who can keep you safe, one who can meet your needs without getting you in dangerous situations all the time. That’s all I’m good for, trying to get either myself or you killed. I’m accident-prone, Lin. All I do is mess up. Thus, I don’t deserve you. I’m better off on my own, putting myself in all the danger I find myself in without endangering you or the kids. It’s only fair that way.”

“Gark . . . how could you say that . . .?” Me’lin asked. A tear went down her cheek. It was obvious that she was hurt by these comments.

“I’ve put your life in danger too many times for my own good. If I get killed off, you’ll never get over it. Thus, I think it’s only fair that I let you live your life and go off on my own. Because of me, you were endangered by the Double Threat Duo. Ciscerian Barbosa almost killed you, and he froze me in carbonite. Fek Widor wanted to shoot us. Mane, he was crazy. He almost killed us. Binn Kinshry . . . because of me, you got raped . . . and got pregnant because of it . . . and now our vacation has turned into a nightmare. All I do is mess up, and I realize now that I never should have tried to get back together with you after the gambling issues you discovered. At the time I thought our marriage was the only thing I had to live for, but now I know that it’s only holding you back. It’s all my fault, it really is.”

Now Me’lin was truly in tears. “Are . . . are you wanting . . . to leave me?” she stuttered in her sadness.

“It’s the only thing I can do, get myself out of your life so that you can live like you deserve. You have the kids, you can be happy. You don’t need me getting you stuck in situations like this where you could die. I need to move on my own, and if I get killed, then you’re not burdened.”

The glow panel dropped from Me’lin’s hand, and it hit the ground with a thud. All he could really hear in the darkness was Me’lin’s sobbing. He had obviously struck her real deep there, but it was true. He was a monster, even if he didn’t try to be.

“I want to get us out of this pickle now so that we can move on,” Gark said. “Can we work together one last time before I leave?” He paused for a few seconds. “I wanted this marriage to work out. I really did.”

Then he felt a very hard slap to the face, and he knew that Me’lin had struck him. She was right there, the tears flowing heavily now. He barely noticed the pain coursing through his mind. All he could focus on was his wife’s pain.

“Don’t you ever try to marginalize our marriage,” she said angrily. “It’s been the best six and a half years of my life. And I won’t let you ruin it, now or ever.”

“But I’ve screwed it all up . . .”

Another slap to his face kept him quiet. Me’lin got right into his face. “No you haven’t!” she yelled. “It’s been a rough ride, I know, but don’t you ever talk of leaving me. I won’t have it.”

“Isn’t there a man you’d feel safer around?” Gark inquired. “Someone who can meet your needs without getting you in harm’s way all the time?”

“No,” Me’lin said as she sobbed. “Because you’re it, Gark. And it cuts me real deep to know that you don’t want me anymore. After all we’ve been through . . .”

“And that’s why I have to leave,” Gark said. “I don’t want to harm you anymore. This is not an easy decision to make . . . we’ve been through so much . . . but it’s the safest for you. It’s the best for the kids. I want Cecilia to know someday that her father left not because he was a coward, not because he was a cheater, but because he knew the best thing for his children was to leave them. Because they’re in danger right now, and that’s all my fault.”

“We chose this trip together . . .” Me’lin said.

“But it was my final decision to order the tickets. And now look where we are, stuck in a control room of a screwed-up ship and fighting for our lives. That’s not what I wanted for us. And it’s time I get myself out of your life before I get us all killed, us and the kids.”

Another slap hit him in the face. They were getting harder each time, he noticed. But the pain really wasn’t bothering him; Me’lin was. “I loved you, you son of a Hutt. I really did,” she said. “More than you could ever know.”

“I know you did,” Gark said gently. “And I love you. That’s why I need to go. You’re too important to me to keep putting in danger.” He got up from the control panel and walked towards the door. But something stopped him. Me’lin had wrapped her arms around him, trying to stop him from leaving. “Lin, it’s best for you to let go. Or to shoot me,” Gark said.

“No!” she yelled. “I could never do that!”

“Trust me, Lin, it’s what’s best for both of us. Let me go, and tell the kids that their father was a great man who did what was best for them . . .”

“Best for them?” Me’lin said angrily. “Don’t you mean what’s best for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I bet you’re doing this because you have some other woman you want to sleep with. Is that right, you frakker? Are you looking to leave me because I’m not woman enough for you? Am I too old? Am I not pretty enough?”

“No, it’s not that . . .”

“Then what is it?”

“I need to go because I don’t deserve you. You deserve a lot more than me,” Gark said. “Now let go.”

“No!” Me’lin yelled. She tackled Gark to the ground to prevent him from struggling too much and breaking her grasp. She then slapped him across the face once again. “Don’t you see, Gark? I’m not going to let you go. No matter what you say, no matter how you try and hurt me, I won’t let you go.”

“Why not?”

“Because I do deserve you,” Me’lin said. “And you deserve me, every bit of my mind, body, and soul. I married you not because of the money, or the fame, but because I knew it was the right thing to do. I loved you then, and I love you now. Every time we got in danger, even when hope seemed bleak, you came for me, rescued me from despair.”

She continued to hold Gark down as she spoke. “After I was raped . . . when you saved me . . . you showed compassion that most others would never think of. You helped me through those dark times. When the baby was there, no fault of my own, you helped me cope. You’re my beacon in the dark, and I don’t want you to leave. I could never bring myself to love again if you were to leave me.

Think of what you’d be walking out on. You’d be leaving the one woman who really wants you, likely for some hermit life or for a one-night fling every few evenings. What would some other woman have that I don’t, hm? I know more about you than you care to realize, Gark S’rily; I’ve been with you for over six years. We’ve had two beautiful children together, and an adopted son who needs our support. And you want to walk out on me, after all that? You’d be turning your back on what we’ve built. I feel ashamed now that you’ve tipped your hand. Why did you ever want to come back if this was your plan all along? Why trick me with hope and presents when all you could think of was leaving me?”

“Because that’s when I knew I wanted you,” Gark said.

“So you don’t want me now?” Me’lin asked.

“I do want you. I just don’t think I can have you . . . I don’t deserve . . .”

Gark’s sentence was cut off when Me’lin kissed him. It wasn’t the quick kind that two lovers would five each other every few minutes. This was one of those deeply-emotional ones that really had weight behind it. It must have lasted for a good fifteen seconds.

“Don’t you see?” she asked after the kiss. “You deserve me more than you realize. No matter what, no matter how you try and hurt me . . . I love you. That will never change. And if we’re to get out of this together, I don’t want you to leave. I’d rather shoot myself than let you walk out the door on me.”

“Are you serious?” Gark asked incredulously.

“Yes, I am very serious,” Me’lin said. “Gark, don’t do it. I know you’re hurting . . . I know the vacation is going to hell . . . but please don’t leave me. We can do this. All I need is your love, and your promise to never leave.”

“What about the danger I keep getting you into?” Gark asked.

“It’s your job, your duty, to get me out of it, and for me to help you when you need it. During the wedding vows, we were asked to watch over each other in sickness and in health, on good days and the bad ones. And I intend to make sure we get out of this alive. For the kids . . . for both of us.”

“So you can love me even though I’m accident-prone?” Gark asked.

“Yes,” Me’lin said, sobbing again. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

“And what if I get us in danger again?”

“Then it’s time for Superbothan to show his worth,” Me’lin said. “I need you, and you need me. That will never change.” They kissed once again, still sprawled on the floor.

Gark knew that his wife was right. Even though it pained him to keep getting them stuck, she wasn’t willing to let him go. That was true dedication right there, the kind that wasn’t found every day. Obviously he had made the right choice of woman to marry.

“I love you,” Me’lin said, stroking Gark’s head with her hand. “And I always will, no matter what.”

“And I love you too,” Gark said. He smiled for the first time in a long time. “Now, we have a job to do . . .”

“Oh yes we do,” Me’lin said. But she wouldn’t get off him.

“What are you doing?” Gark asked. “We have a ship to save.”

“We’ll get to that in time. Right now, we have more important things to attend to, like our marriage,” Me’lin said. She kissed her husband again, and Gark finally knew what she wanted. He knew what he wanted. In the darkness, they had very pleasurable sex on the floor of the control cabin.

When they were done making love to each other, the two of them got up from the floor. Gark checked the emergency transmitter. But something seemed out of order here. “The signal’s being jammed!” he said when he realized what the issue was.

“Jammed?” Me’lin asked. She zipped up the last bit of her suit so that it covered her whole body again.

A ship scanner blipped, and both S’rilys looked at it. A ship was incoming. Then, right before their eyes in the control cabin, a large ship, comparable in size to an old Victory-class Star Destroyer, popped into view. The weapons on the ship started to aim at the cruise liner.

“We’re in trouble,” Gark said as he stated the obvious. They were indeed in a pickle.

 

I got to the middle of the post and this was my reaction: