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

A silly post with little to no redeeming value. Just found this today out of the blue whilst looking online at other videos, and I figured I'd have to include it in a post.

TAGS to Tim Battershell, jcgoble3, and Trieste



Sometimes a song just got stuck in your head. As Nat’alia Patrovish discovered, maybe even a snippet of song could enter the recesses of the mind and never want to leave until you purged it with another song, a stiff drink, or another distraction.

The lithe Andromeda security supervisor, and one of the former Superbothan agents, kept humming something to herself as she walked through the corridors of the Andromeda headquarters. She had to prepare a report on how things were proceeding at the local processing factory the company operated. New safety measures had been implemented, and she was supposed to take a look at how those rules were being enforced and maintained. There was nothing major to report, but she had to do this work anyways. It was a pain, yes, but for the trained assassin, it meant a steady job. And that was the biggest prize of them all.

When she got to the lift, she got in, immediately turning around to face the closing doors. She continued to hum the song that was in her head, but this time started to let words escape her lips. There was no one around to hear her, so she might as well let loose a few words. That stupid song was still stuck in her head, and it just wouldn’t leave.

“I didn’t know you sang,” came a familiar voice from behind her. Nat wheeled around, almost tripping on her high heels as she made the immediate turn. Gark S’rily was standing in the back of the lift car, an amused look on his face. “Something you never wanted to tell me about?”

“It’s nothing,” Nat commented.

“Oh come on, you don’t have to be modest, Nat,” Gark replied. “I understand if music is something that speaks to you. It has for me, at least a little bit.”

“I’m not a very good singer. I just get songs stuck in my head,” Nat said.

“Well, if you ever decide you can sing, you should enter in the company talent show,” Gark said, a wry smile on his face. “Never know, you might get some people to like you after that.”

“I’d prefer that some of those people never meet me, because it makes my job a little bit more dangerous,” Nat said.

“How so?”

“I don’t like to be seen in my monitoring efforts. I keep to myself.”

“Oh come on, Nat, take a chance. See if you like it. Hell, I’ll even accompany you if you want to sing something at the talent show,” Gark said. “Because I think you’ve got an interesting voice.”

“Are you trying to hit on me?”

“Nope. Just thinking that you’re doing yourself a disservice by not giving it a try.”

“I have a report to get to,” Nat said. She got off on the next floor without saying a word, leaving Gark miffed. He hadn’t heard much, but maybe Nat had a decent singing voice after all.

As Nat sat in her cubicle drafting her report, the song came back into her mind. She wanted to swat it away, but that would have meant punching herself in the face. She wasn’t stupid. The song would leave eventually, she reasoned. So she kept working, trying to distract her mind. But it wouldn’t leave, and she just had to push the report aside in disgust. That song was making it tough on her to think straight.

When she got to her apartment, she kicked off her heels and prepared to take a shower. But with every step she took towards the shower, the song beat kept coming back to her mind. Oh well, doesn’t hurt to belt it out, no one’s around, Nat thought to herself. So she sang the song in the shower, the sounds of her voice coming over the rush of the water.

And the weirdest thing happened; she liked what she heard. Maybe it was just her getting an ego, but maybe S’rily was right. Perhaps she had a better voice than she thought.

The next day, she had to track the Bothan down. “You said there’s a talent show?” she asked.

“Yeah, a month from now,” Gark replied. “Why, you finally come around to join the band?”

“I wouldn’t join a band, per se, but if you want to accompany me on some instrument . . .”

“I can play quitarra fairly well,” Gark admitted. “I'm teaching Galin how to play, and learning quite a bit myself.”

“Then I have just the song to play,” Nat said.

---

One Month Later

“And for our next act, we have the CEO himself, with his band,” said the MC for the talent (or no talent) show. “And Ms. Nat’alia Patrovish is the special guest, who works security detail for the company. Please welcome them to the stage.”

Gark and Nat went to the stage, Gark dressed in a black t-shirt and slacks, and Nat in a white summer dress. Her hair, usually straightened out, was now curled again. Gark sat down on the bench with his quitarra, which would be amplified through his old speaker from college. It had an interesting tone to it, and that’s why he had kept it. A few other employees had helped form the rest of the band, one which Gark hoped to someday get Galin in on when he got good enough.

“You ready?” Gark asked as he plucked a few strings to make sure his instrument was in tune.

“Hell no,” Nat said. “I’m nervous, OK. Not good with being in front of crowds.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Gark said. “Now, let’s begin.”

The first couple of notes blared out of the amplifier from behind Gark, and then the song began.



Nat was nervous the first few bars of the song, because she had never done this before. But Gark was there to help catch her and provide some of the other vocals. He was simply playing chords, making it easier for him to chip in vocally. There were some nervous moments for him as well, but he had practiced this song hard, and was ready to perform it when he stepped on stage. At one point he even got Nat to smile; it wasn’t a long one, but if he could keep her mind on the song and not on the audience, then it was well worth it.

By the time the song was over, there was plenty of applause. Gark made sure to push most of the attention over to Nat, who was blushing. When they left the stage, Gark had to comment. “Now, that wasn’t too bad, was it?”

“It was hard,” Nat said.

“It’s supposed to be. Playing in front of audiences is a phobia one just has to conquer.”

“Guess that’s not my thing,” Nat admitted.

“Don’t worry too much,” Gark said as he got the quitarra strap off him. “You did well. Not a bad first gig.”

"But did it sound fine?"

"Sounded pretty good. You should quit your job and be a singer or actress or something."

"Really?"

"Nope. I hope you stay here and work for the company, because it's good to have you running security."

"And that's fine by me. Besides, singers have huge egos. I don't."

"Really?" Gark asked, an amused look on his face.

Nat punched him in the arm. "I'm serious," she said.

"I know. Just hoping you'd stick around. Never know when I'll need the agents around."

"We'll be there," Nat said. "Trust me. We will be there when the time comes."

 

Skipping ahead a ways, about 10 months since Me'lin announced she was pregnant.

TAGS to Tim Battershell, jcgoble3, Trieste



It was another fine day at the Barten Zoo on the lower eastside of Coruscant. Being a weekend day, all sorts of families and their children were going from place to place within the zoo’s confines, seeing all the strange creatures from all over the galaxy. Yes some of the creatures looked scary, but they were all kept a safe distance away from the spectators as to not aggravate the creatures or the customers. It was a win-win for all involved; the creatures were not put down or hunted, the zoo made money, and the customers came to enjoy themselves. Business was thriving as usual.

Doctor Julius Stead, a well-respected neuroscientist at the University of Coruscant Medical Facility, was taking the time to enjoy himself in the sunshine. It was a rare pleasure getting time off, he thought as he sat on a zoo bench watching the families go by on their way to see the aquatic exhibits or to climb up a few flights of stairs to witness some other truly spectacular show. There was no way not to enjoy the park. He had once wanted to be a zoobiologist, and had wanted to understand why creatures acted as they did. But neuroscience had called to him instead, allowing him to get inside the head of sentient beings and see what made them tick. After all, after countless hours spent in his lab over the years, he had come up with all sorts of ideas and theories, many of which had won him critical acclaim. His treatise on the mental capacities of Clawdites had pushed aside long-term negative connotations of the shapeshifter species. He had thus been thanked by the Clawdite people himself for the discovery, because they wanted understanding, and the galaxy wanted answers. For a race known for treachery and thievery, it was a breath of fresh air to show that they could use their form-shifting powers for less illegal goals.

As a family passed by very closely, Dr. Stead watched them go. He had been married once, but his wife had left him after he spent too much time at the lab. She had taken their two children with her, and while he had some contact with them over the years since the divorce, he felt like he had never quite been there for them. One was struggling in menial jobs after barely graduating high school, the other was a troublemaker who had spent several instances in local jails after petty crimes. For all their namesake had accomplished, his two children had never liked him, especially after the split. He felt like he was responsible for their failures as people, and it wore on him every now and then. When he felt binges of depressive thoughts coming on, he would retreat to his lab. Only there did he know he could be safe from the feelings he harbored inside. It was his safe haven, a place where he had no one to answer to but himself.

Nearby, he could hear the screams of little children as they gazed upon the main attraction of the zoo; a live rancor captured in the wild and brought all the way to Coruscant. Dr. Stead sometimes wished he could understand how “primitive” creatures saw the world, and if the rancor would ever know what it’s life was like. Could it really process its situation like a “sentient” being could? For all the neuroscience he had done, Dr. Stead wasn’t sure if he could prove anything about the mind of a rancor, a vicious beast in a savage world where it came from, and now brought to be the main attraction for small children. Was a zoo cruel in some ways? Yes, the doctor thought to himself. There was a fine line between bondage for protection and enslavement. For all the work he had done on bonded individuals, usually slave girls trafficked for their looks by criminal cartels; there was something that he had never quite understood. Could a creature like a rancor really process what it was going through? Could it understand that it was to be gawked at, and not free to roam around its own territory? Surely there was inkling in its mind that something was wrong, but he didn’t know what. Some beings he had come to known claimed to be able to work with creatures such as this by playing to specific traits. These keepers held dangerous jobs, but if it kept the rancor from being in a constant sense of rage, then it was all for the best.

“Look, mommy! Look at the creature!” shouted a young child as it gazed upon the rancor from its pit down below. There was plenty of transparisteel in place to keep the creature from trying to escape, and it was fed regularly in order to keep it happy. Making sure it wasn’t angry was the main concern for its keepers, because an angry rancor pretty much would destroy anything in its path. And that wasn’t something the zoo could afford, after all the expense it had gone to acquiring the creature, and then keeping it on display. Jabba the Hutt had famously owned one in the basement of his palace on Tatooine, and it had plenty of fresh meat in whoever double-crossed the crime lord.

A keeper down in the pit stopped the meat handtruck he was pushing along. Another keeper, whom he had never met before, stopped him. “What’s the holdup? We’re on a schedule,” he complained.

“I wouldn’t get upitty if I were you,” the other keeper said gruffly. “Now get over there and keep your hands up.” A blaster appeared in the stranger’s hands. The keeper decided it was best to do what the man said, and went over to the wall. “Thank you,” the stranger said. “Now, to feed the beast.”

“What do you want?” the captive keeper asked, still facing the tunnel wall.

“Nothing of concern to you,” the stranger said. He moved the handtruck aside and then opened up a communications channel. “Start the plan.”

A small barrel near the rancor, which was supposed to house supplies necessary for keepers, exploded. The rancor, which was expecting to be fed and was hungry, was greatly disturbed by the flash and the stench of smoke. It reared its fearsome head backwards momentarily, and then looked to the source of the explosion. Then another explosive went off, pushing the rancor to the side of the pit where the glass was the closest to spectators. Most of the beings watching were confused; was this supposed to be some sort of live demonstration?

“Come on, you big lunk,” the stranger whispered to himself.

“What’s going on?” the captive keeper asked, not able to see anything.

“Nothing. I’d shut up if I were you,” the stranger said, sticking the blaster into the keeper’s back.

“Ok, I’ll be silent,” the keeper said, shutting his mouth. He could hear the screams of the rancor as it became incensed, but he didn’t know why.

The rancor was enraged at this point, and another explosion was poised to make things happen. The detonation rocked the glass where the spectators watched in horror, and then the glass gave way. Several beings who were too close to the glass fell down into the rancor pit. There were many screams now of the injured and their families, all overtaken by the roar of the rancor. It slowly advanced on its new prey, wanting a meal. A man tried to scale the wall, but was quickly eaten by the beast as it got its claws on the man’s jacket and then swallowed him whole.

“You’re killing it!” the captive keeper yelled at his captor.

“No, I’m not. It’s going to kill itself, and you’re to blame,” the stranger said. He then shot his captive dead on the spot, the man’s body slumping down to the floor. With the hostage out of the way, the stranger went back to his comlink. “Work is done down here. Time to move in.”

The rancor could see frightened people staring back down at it from the top of the pit. The fresh air it could feel from down below was something it had not felt in years. It was like the rancor had never left its home, and it could see prey up top. Flexing its claws, it stuck one into the chunking rock that had once been a strong side of the pit, and began to try and climb it. Its first try was unsuccessful, but then it finally found a hard spot, and then it began to climb. Its tongue was ready to strike, its teeth preparing for the rest of its upcoming meal. The crowd scattered, running in fear of the creature that was coming for them.

Dr. Stead, sitting on a nearby bench, could hear the screams, and went over to investigate. As soon as he saw the rancor begin to climb, he ran the opposite way like everyone else. They were running every which way to get away from the beast as its talons appeared at the top of the pit; it was mass hysteria. Dr. Stead ran towards the front gate, but tripped over someone’s leg in the frenzy. He fell down onto the ground hard, losing his glasses. They went skittering over to the side, and he frantically tried to reach them with his fingers.

He could hear the rancor approaching. It steps were loud and ominous, death personified in its feet and the earthquakes they made as it moved slowly along. Dr. Stead continued to frantically search for his glasses, and he could hear the beast ambling closer.

He never found his glasses, because something stabbed him in the back, and he died without knowing what had happened to him.

---

The S’rily family was taking the weekend day at the zoo. Gark and Galin were chatting like crazy while the elder Bothan pushed the stroller for Cecilia along. Me’lin had strapped to her chest little Davan, the tiny baby only two months old. She loved looking at her little one as she walked along; the young child wasn’t able to understand what was going on, but someday she hoped that big things would be ahead for him. All of her children deserved the best, but only if they worked hard. It was what she and Gark had both done to make names for themselves, and the Twi’lek desired for the kids to be the same way.

“Dad, are we going to see the rancor?” Galin asked. “All the kids at school say that’s the big attraction here.”

“We’ll get there eventually,” Gark said. “But your mother’s right, Cecilia will probably be afraid of it. I know if I was that age I would be, too.”

“But Dad . . .”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t take a look,” Gark said.

Then they heard the screams. “The beast is loose!” one panic-stricken person yelled as they ran past. Several more people fled in terror. Gark stared at the people like they were crazy; what was going on here, anyways?

“Gark, what’s going on?” Me’lin asked from behind him.

“I don’t know. Strange behavior,” Gark said. He looked back, but there was nothing to see. Finally he had to know what was going on. He flagged down a security officer who was going past them. “Officer, what the hell is going on? Why are people running?” Gark asked.

“There’s been a major accident in the Rancor Den,” the man said. “The beast somehow got loose, and its preying on customers. They’ve already called out the Planet Guard, but it will take them some time to respond.”

“Need any help?” Gark asked.

“You qualified to deal with an angry rancor?”

“Probably not,” Gark said with a shrug.

“Do you at least have experience with emergency situations?”

“You could say that,” Gark said.

“Then come with me,” the officer said.

Gark looked to his kids. “Kids, I need to go help out with the recovery effort. Stay with your mother, and don’t leave her side. Got that?”

“I wanna go with you, Dad,” Galin said.

“It’s too dangerous,” Gark said. “Right now, it’s best for you to find a safe place to hide with your mother and siblings. Be strong, son. Your time will come someday.” Without another word, he turned tail and followed the officer towards the scene of the accident.

“Your father’s right, Galin,” Me’lin said.

“Someday I want to be like him,” Galin said. “Saving people from danger. It’s the Superbothan way.”

“But for right now, you’re not ready,” his mother assured him. “Now come on, we have to find somewhere safe to hide.” She grabbed Galin’s hand and then took hold of the stroller. Gark was a fading spot in the park, and the Twi’lek hoped that she would see him again. An angry rancor sounded like one hell of a bad situation.

---

One hour later

“I think that’s all of them,” Gark said. He was winded trying to get people out of the zoo and to safety, his voice partially gone with all the yelling he had to do. The security guard looked around.

“We’ll have to do cleanup work,” he said, surveying the damage. “It’s going to cost a lot of money and time to get this cleaned up.”

“What happened to the beast?” Gark asked. He had been too busy to notice what else had gone on.

“The Planet Guard arrived half an hour ago. I got the call in on my communicator,” the guard said, holding it up. “Hopefully they can deal . . .”

Then a loud, enraged roar enveloped the park. The two of them turned around to see the top of the rancor’s spine, which had previously not been in sight, moving around. Then there were sounds of blaster fire, and eventually the top of the rancor dropped out of sight.

“The deed’s been done,” the security guard said.

Indeed the monster was dead, the Guard officials said. However, it wouldn’t be safe to return to the park. This began the long search for the injured, dead, and missing. Gark was swept up in these efforts as the Guard and police began to look for anyone hurt by the rancor, or worse. As the scene was being swept, Gark came face-to-face with the police chief. The man recognized him, as he had once been a lower-level officer in 272 when Gark had been masquerading as Superbothan.

Then they found Dr. Stead. “Maker, that’s Dr. Julius Stead,” a cop said breathlessly. “It can’t be.” A quick check of his body found that he was dead. On the back of his jacket were three large lines like he had been clawed by the rancor.

“Looks like the Doctor met his match in a rancor,” the chief said. “It’s a shame, really. The zoo’s going to be pissed that it got loose, and then we have dead to deal with. This is a real mess.”

But Gark didn’t respond. He was staring at the Doctor’s back. Something didn’t feel right. “Wait,” he finally said. “I don’t think that wound was caused by a rancor.”

“What do you mean?” the chief asked.

“It’s made to look like it is, but I’m suspicious of foul play here, beyond a giant rancor escaping captivity,” Gark commented.

“We’ll get it looked at,” the police chief said. “But if we find that it’s a homicide, then we’ve got another element to deal with. Again, are you sure?”

“I’m not certain of anything, Chief, but I just think it would do some good to determine if the beast got him, or if we’re looking at a cover-up,” Gark said.

“We’ll get it checked out,” the Chief said.

Later on, Gark went off to find his family. They were hiding in another exhibit, and when Gark was there to discover them, Me’lin felt very relieved. “Good to see you in one piece,” she said.

“I didn’t deal with the beast, just helped people get out of the zoo,” Gark replied. “But the beast is dead; the Planet Guard shot it.”

“What does that mean, Dad? Is the zoo going to be open next week?” Galin asked. Obviously he was oblivious to the damage the rancor had caused.

“I’m afraid not, kid,” Gark said. “And while the police may not admit it, we may have a murder in addition to the escape of the beast.”

“I think that anyone letting a rancor out of its pit, if that’s indeed what happened, would be murder, no matter how you look at it,” Me’lin commented.

“They’ll look at the body and make a determination,” Gark said. “Don’t worry, this will hopefully get solved.”

“Oh, they probably won’t make any determination anytime soon,” came a voice. Gaek wheeled around, but didn’t see anyone.

“Who’s there?”

“Who do you think it is, genius?” came the voice again. Then a shape appeared from the darkness of the exhibit and landed on the ground. Nat’alia Patrovish stared back at the S’rily family.

“Nat? What are you doing here? It’s your day off. Enjoy it,” Gark said. Nat was always working hard; sometimes he wondered how she juggled so many responsibilities.

“I came when I heard that a rancor had escaped,” the Hapan said. “And I must admit that you did a good job on evacuating people.”

“But why did you come?”

“Because I had to see it for myself,” Nat said. “But then to hear that it murdered Julius Stead, that was interesting. And I don’t think the police will call it a homicide.”

“Why not?” Me’lin asked.

“I have a few Holos of it. Took them while the police were looking the other way,” Nat said, holding up a small device in her hand. “We should take these back to the lab and take a look. I’m with the boss; I think this is a murder. And I would very much like to know who.”

“But why would you care so much about the murder?” Gark asked. “I don’t think you and the Doctor had any connections . . .”

“You’re wrong,” Nat said, shocking the Bothan. “I knew Dr. Stead.”

“How?”

“I was one of his patients many years ago when I was stuck in a transitional period of my life,” the Hapan said. “He was offering ten credits to anyone who was willing to subject themselves to psychiatric review. He was trying to publish some paper, and needed test subjects to see if pathological violence was controlled by brain impulses.”

“What kinds of things did he do?”

“Nothing like what I went through in my earlier years, being trained to fight,” Nat said. “He seemed like he was on the cusp of something big at the time. I hoped that he would have an answer to my penchant for hurting others. But he couldn’t help me, because he didn’t know the root cause. I was looking for a friend, and he was looking for a cure. But he came to a conclusion. Sometimes you can’t explain why beings are the way they are. Look at me; I fight for a living, and I’ve brushed with death so many times it’s unreal.”

“But why do you want us to investigate his murder?” Gark asked. “That could take a lot of time, and risk, to solve.”

“He was the first person in a long time to understand me, and to tell me that I had worth. I didn’t know what in at the time, but now I can thank Julius Stead for at least giving me a conscience.”

“That doesn’t quite fit in with your backstory, or at least what I can remember you telling me.”

“I’ve had rough times, yes. But he helped me, and now I need to help him,” Nat said. “By finding his killer. That rancor couldn’t have gotten loose by itself.”

“Why do I have the idea I’m going to be dragged into this, and that I don’t want to know what we’re about to do?” Gark asked.

“It’ll be just like old times, boss,” Nat said. “I think it’s time Superbothan, or whatever you called yourself all those years back, rides again.”

“I can’t,” Gark said. “If you haven’t noticed, I have a family to take care of.”

“Come on, we can do this,” Nat said.

Gark looked to Me’lin, who didn’t say anything. He then stared at little Davan; the boy was asleep in his pouch. Then Me’lin had something to say. “Honey, I support you no matter what you do,” she said. “Even if it means you going into danger again. I support you.”

“But I don’t want to get hurt and then leave you with three kids,” Gark said. “Your life has been hard enough without me always there to take care of you.”

“Who says you’re going alone?” Me’lin asked. “I’m going to help you solve this case.”

“But what about Davan? The kids?”

“Let’s get this solved quickly so that we don’t have to worry about them,” Me’lin said with a wink. “Besides, it’s time I get to be a field agent. I could surprise you with the things I’ve learned.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Nat said. “Now, here’s what we’re going to do . . .”

 

YES! Superbothan is back!

 

TAGS to Tim Battershell, jcgoble3, Trieste


“So what do we know?” Gark asked as he leaned on the table.

“The Doctor was killed, and it was made to look like a rancor had gotten him,” Nat said. She was playing with a puzzle cube in her hand as she spoke.

“But we both think it was a cover-up for murder,” Gark finished.

“That’s as far as we’ve gotten. We have no motive,” Nat replied. She looked up from her puzzle. “Or any idea of who may have wanted to kill Dr. Stead.”

“The police finished their investigation,” Me’lin said, coming into the room with reports in her hand. “They say the rancor got him, and that there was no foul play involved.”

“Unless you can call a rancor getting free from a transparisteel cage as ‘fair’ play’,” Gark said, rolling his eyes. As expected, the police were of no help in this instance. He would have to take things into his own hands.

“Why would someone go to all that work to kill him? Couldn’t they have slipped some poison into his drink?” Nat asked herself as she played with the puzzle in her hands.

“Obviously this goes deeper than we think,” Me’lin said, stating the obvious.

“But why?” Gark asked. “Why kill a renowned doctor who was known for working with brains and bodies?”

“Must have gotten too close to something, probably something big,” Nat surmised. “I once had a job where a guy had gotten too close to someone else’s ideas, and I was contracted to menace the guy. I did a great job, actually, and those ideas were safely copyrighted later. Fair play, not a bit, but hey, I got paid.”

“But it’s just speculation until we can prove something,” Gark said. “For all we know, this is a gruesome gang killing or settling his Limmie debts.”

“We’d have to look into his files,” Me’lin said. “Otherwise we’ll never find anything.”

“Leave that to me,” Nat commented. “I can break into police headquarters and get the info we need.”

“That’s dangerous, Nat,” Gark said. “I’d rather not be fighting a mysterious killer and the police. I’m a respected man, not a criminal.”

“You wouldn’t be a criminal, just a vigilante of sorts,” Nat said. “Basically like you were before. Besides, I’d be the criminal for breaking into cop’s territory.”

“But we’d be aiding and abetting, that’s a crime,” Me’lin pointed out.

“But if you want to get this thing solved, you’ll need to bend the rules,” Nat said, her voice not wavering.

“Why exactly do we want this solved?” Gark asked. “You’re the only one of the three of us with a connection to this man. Why should Lin and I be dragged into this?”

“First off, because you secretly feel the need to go back on another adventure,” Nat said. “I can tell in your eyes, the way you act, that you want to get out there and beat up some baddies.”

“I don’t,” Gark said. “I’ve got a home life I need to tend to . . .”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t fit in another mission around those things,” Nat said with a shrug. “And, secondly, Dr. Stead had another project he was working on.”

“What kind of project?”

“Hell if I know. It was something to do with genetic manipulation of brains to make them more intelligent, but other than that, I have no idea. We’d have to do some digging.”

“Cloning?”

“And then some. I’m guessing the Doctor had a few things he wanted to keep quiet,” Nat said. “There were . . . rumors . . . that he was working on a special project when he was helping out people like me. That he was gaining information on how to perfect a human brain . . . or any sentient brain, for that matter. To make a perfect clone.”

“That sounds so farfetched,” Gark said, shaking his head.

“Hey, my fellow spies know a few things. Maybe they exaggerate if you don’t pay them enough, but they won’t lie,” Nat warned, sticking her finger in Gark’s direction. “Dr. Stead was up to something, intention unknown.”

“So what do you want us to do about it?” Gark asked. “We can’t exactly go running halfway across the galaxy just to find some killer who may or may not be cloning perfected beings . . .”

Then Nat’s comlink beeped, and she picked it up.

“What is it?” Me’lin asked.

“Police communications,” Nat said. She listened intently for several seconds. Then her brow furrowed. “The body’s been taken.”

“What do you mean?” Gark asked.

“Dr. Stead’s body has been taken from the homicide lab,” Nat said. “Unknown assailant broke in, smashed the place, and took the body. Now there’s no evidence whatsoever.”

“We need to know more about the Doctor,” Gark said. “At least if we are to go down this hole. I don’t know if I want to.”

Then his comlink rang. He didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?” he asked as he picked it up.

“Hello Mr. S’rily,” came a voice on the other end of the line.

Gark knew that voice.

“Calo,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

“Yes, it’s me. Or it would have been me, except that I am not merely my mortal body,” the other end said. “You may have been able to kill me once, but my blood and DNA lived on. And now I’m ready to finish the job.”

“What do you mean your DNA lived on?”

“Be wary, Gark S’rily, because I’m coming for you. To finish the job. To finish my mission. You’ll be hearing from me again shortly.” The connection cut on the other end, and Gark was left to stare at the comlink. It couldn’t be true; Calo was long-since dead. There was no way he could still be alive. And what did that riddle mean?

And his worries were compounded when Me’lin received a call on her comlink. “Mom, they’re gone!” Galin said exasperatedly into the unit.

“What do you mean gone?” Me’lin asked her son.

“CeCe and Davan . . . they took them,” Galin said.

“Who did? Galin, who took them?”

“Dad did,” Galin said. “It wasn’t him, I swear, Mom. I know you’re with him right now. But it looked like him. I didn't get the best look, since I was trying to hide, but it looked like Dad. Almost down to the hair. Sounded like him, too. Please tell me this isn't a joke.”


“We need to find the body,” Gark said when he heard the news. “I’ve been cloned. And we're in major danger.”

 

CALO MORND!!!! The Original Superbothan Villain™ is back, baby!

 

Back to the present day


“It’s going to be a little bit harder for me,” Gark admitted to Polis Vayne as the two men sat around the Vayne household. “Running the team, even as owner, isn’t easy, and adding another child will make things somewhat difficult.”

“I think you’ll manage,” Polis commented. He sat with bare feet, crossing his legs so that the feet didn’t touch the carpet below. “We’ve done pretty well with Daisy . . . of course, I wasn’t owner the whole time, so I guess you have me on that.”

“I probably do,” Gark said, sitting back on the sofa. It was very comfortable, he had to admit. “It feels weird, Polis, to be going through the ‘new father’ shtick again. Can’t say I thought this would happen again.”

“Tell me about it,” Polis said. “Even though Meredith and I were trying for a baby, it still felt like a major shock to the system when she announced the pregnancy. I wasn’t sure if I was shocked, scared, or some of both. The twins have been a handful as it is, so to have Meredith in position for a new baby, that was weird. I had a few doubts, but things have turned out alright. Of course, Meredith still wishes that your wife had given birth around the same time she did . . .”

“But it didn’t happen,” Gark said with a shrug. “Strange how things play out sometimes. At least this time she will hopefully succeed, and we’ll add number three.”

“So, do you know the gender yet?”

“Yep. A boy.”

“I bet Galin’s excited.”

“Somewhat. He’s not that enthused about a new sibling, but the brother aspect has him curious. I think he’s interested in a brother, especially since Mykal’s off at college,” Gark said.

“To be honest, I wish Meredith had given me another son,” Polis said. “It’s a Dad thing. But Buck is still awesome. He’ll be a great man someday.”

“As Lin and I found out, it’s never too late to remedy that problem, even if you don’t intend to do so,” Gark commented in an amused way.

“Oh no, I think we’re good,” Polis said, putting his hands up to convey his point. “Three kids are enough; adding a fourth is crazy talk. Besides, Meredith is pretty cranky when she’s pregnant; I got a full dose of that with Daisy in the pipeline.”

“Lin takes it very well,” Gark said. “She keeps telling me how awesome she feels . . . even though I don’t understand how she could like carrying that load around with her, especially one that makes her feel sick and lethargic.”

“Women are just wired differently, man,” Polis said with a chuckle. “Maybe there are some things we guys aren’t really meant to understand.”

“I hear you loud and clear on that one,” Gark said. “But Lin’s also excited that she isn’t alone in the process. Enough other women in the organization are also expecting that it’s like a club of sorts.”

“Sometimes that happens,” Polis said. “Must mean times are good.”

“Or it’s just a major coincidence.”

“Babies are not to be taken lightly. I’ve had three to take care of, so I know all too well.”

“You ever think in your wildest dreams that we’d both be sitting here with three kids in our families?” Gark asked.

“Hell no. If you had told me all those years ago that Meredith and I would be together, and have three children, I’d say you were crazy.”

“Same for me, except that my being married was crazy enough. The kids would have been extra lunacy in such a conversation,” Gark said.

“Playing that hopeless rogue card again, aren’t you?”

“Hey, I didn’t get married until I was 40. Beat that,” Gark said.

“Luckily I didn’t have to. Meredith came along for me, and we settled in quickly.”

“Yeah, I know, you had twins on the way almost immediately after getting married. So if that’s what you meant by ‘settled in’ . . .”

“Frak you,” Polis said, pushing Gark away with a hand. The Bothan almost tipped over on the sofa, but he steadied himself. “Besides, I could probably say the same about you.”

“I guess we were both either very determined, very lucky, or some of both,” Gark said. “Some men go years without impregnating their wife.”

“But hey, the work was worth it,” Polis said, a sly grin on his face. “I know Meredith thought it was worth it, too.”

“So, random question. Lin wants to know how hard the third child’s birth is going to be, since she’s carrying number three right now.”

“Meredith says it was easier, actually. Of course, I take that with a grain of Tatooine sand because childbirth is a scary proposition. And I thought knocking Meredith out cold in that game was a scary thought . . . imagine doing that to yourself willingly.”

“It’s definitely not a guy thing,” Gark admitted.

“You have a name for number three?”

“Yeah. Davan. Lin wants it pretty badly.”

“Interesting . . . not too close to your son’s name, is it?” Polis asked almost in a rhetorical manner. “Well, I’m not one for judging the utility of a name, but it works.”

“I’m more worried about making sure he gets attention, since I have two other kids that need things,” Gark said.

“It’s a game of give-and-take,” Polis replied. “You have to give the baby some face time, but also make sure you can spend time with the others. Buck especially wouldn’t like it if I was just looking at Daisy. But Meredith does enough of that.”

“Just like how Lin always takes the best care of Cecilia,” Gark surmised. “Mother-daughter thing, obviously.”

“Who knows, maybe our wives are instilling a sense of responsibility in our daughters’ heads,” Polis said with a shrug. “Something that could help them down the road.”

“Like when they have their own kids,” Gark finished.

“Maybe. All I know is that that day is a long ways off. I’m not too worried about Buck or Anya getting married and having children anytime soon.”

“That makes two of us,” Gark said. “Galin’s getting older, though, so I guess high school isn’t too far in the future anymore.”

“Just enjoy the ride, because you only get to experience your kids’ childhoods once,” Polis said. “And then they’re grown up and moving out.”

“I think we’ll have plenty of childhood memories coming up when Davan gets here,” Gark said. “18 and a half years of them before high school is finished.”

“Then enjoy every second,” Polis said. “I know I will try my best to be there for Daisy as she grows.”

“And be the best Dad ever?”

“Well yeah, that’s a given.”

“You’ll have to take the title away from me,” Gark said proudly.

“I’ll leave you in the dust,” Polis countered.

“Good luck trying.”

“Are you two boys fighting?” came Meredith’s voice from the other room.

“No,” the two men said in unison.

“Good, because I’d hate for you two to have to change Daisy’s diaper . . .” Meredith chided.

“Nah, he’ll have diapers of his own to change in several months’ time,” Polis said. “Although I do appreciate you doing that work.”

“You better be careful that you don’t need diapers, love, or else you’ll have to change them yourself,” Meredith said. “Do your job for once.”

“Ouch,” Gark said.

“Now you see what I have to deal with,” Polis said, shaking his head.

“It’s not all bad,” Gark pointed out.

“Oh, I know,” Polis commented. “She pretends to get riled up, but she’s harmless.”

“I heard that!” Meredith commented sharply from the other room.

“Probably best to shut up now,” Gark said.

“Yeah, I think so,” Polis said.

Gark didn’t know what lay in the months ahead. All that would be determined by little Davan once his stay in his mother’s womb was complete and he was born to the galaxy. Only then could Gark really know what was in store for him and his growing family.

 

Long time no see! TAGS to jcgoble3


It was the beginning of summer vacation, and the kids were out of school. Galin had finished up the prior week, and was constantly asking his parents if they could go and do cool things over the break. Mykal was back in the house after finishing up his freshman year at the University of Dantooine, but he only had about a month and a half or so before he had to go back for Limmie practices. Cecilia was now two years old, which was a shock to her parents. Where those two years had gone, they didn’t know.

The idea to placate Galin’s curious questions came to his parents that night while getting ready for bed. Gark was brushing his teeth when Me’lin blindsided him with the request. “Honey, I think it’s time we get out of the house for a week or two,” she said.

“And where do you want to go?” Gark asked in between his brushing activity.

“I think we should use our royal status to good effect,” the Twi’lek said. “It’s been five years since we last went, and Mykal and Cecilia have never been.”

“And Galin was younger,” Gark admitted. The boy, now 7, had only been about 2 years of age at the time the family had last went to Trimfi. So much had happened since that trip, namely Gark’s retirement from Limmie for a year, Me’lin dropping her day job to be a stay-at-home mom after becoming pregnant and giving birth to another child, Cecilia being born, and Mykal joining the family. It made sense to go, since it would be a cheap trip but an exciting one.

“Think of it, honey. We can go there, have a picnic on the rolling hills, sit in our little corner of paradise,” Me’lin said in her usual sweet tone. “We can sit there, me in my summer dress, the children romping around, and enough food to fill all our stomachs. And then go for a boat ride on one of the lakes.”

“You’re really trying to push me to this, aren’t you?” Gark asked.

“I didn’t know you were so against it,” Me’lin said.

“I’m not . . . it’s just that I’m booked the rest of this week,” Gark said.

“So we wait until next week. But come on, we need to get away from Coruscant for a few days. I think it’d be best for all of us to leave and get some R & R. Maybe it will give you some inspiration,” Me’lin said with a shrug.

“All right, I’ll see what I can do. But I’ll only go along with it if you promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“To do the majority of the packing,” Gark said, a sly smile on his face.

“It’s not my fault you can’t pack your own suitcase,” Me’lin commented, putting her hands on her hips in an exasperated manner. “I fold things neatly, not just throwing things in there and hoping it all fits.”

“I’m not that bad at it, am I?”

“Sometimes I wonder.”

“So, is that a deal?”

“Always,” Me’lin said, coming over and kissing Gark on the cheek. “I’ll see about arranging things tomorrow.”

And so she did. While Gark was away at work, his wife made plans for their grand trip to Trimfi. She left no stone unturned, and made sure that the vacation home on the planet would be ready for their occupation by the next weekend. A crib would have to be installed, and another bed would be added for Mykal. It wasn’t a grand home, but it would be more than enough for the members of her family.

---

It was a strange feeling being stuffed in tightly into the family shuttle, Gark thought as he piloted the spacecraft. He had originally learned how to fly ships to make sure that if he ever got in a jam and had to fly a shuttle, he could do so. Then he and Me’lin had gotten married, and he had seen the value of having a personal spacecraft in case they needed to attend to business on other worlds. Me’lin’s pregnancy with Galin had brought around a new chapter for both of them, and there was plenty of room for the young Bothan to be while en route to the destination. But now Mykal and Cecilia had been added, and things were a little tighter. They had also added in a soft bed in the corner of the small ship, enough for one person to sleep in. That made two small bunk spaces on the ship, which would provide adequate sleeping provisions for two members of the family. Me’lin spent some of the voyage on the new bed, playing with Cecilia, reading with her daughter, or sleeping. Galin and Mykal looked through the library of Holo zines and books that Gark had collected over the years. Most of the small library on the ship consisted of texts on Limmie, many on strategy and tactics. Mykal was curious to see what he could learn, and Galin liked looking at all the pictures in the books. He couldn’t read many of them just yet, since he was still building his reading and comprehension skills, but he was getting there. What other time they had was spent sleeping, sitting in the co-pilot’s chair next to their father, or in the tiny kitchen at the back near the storage closet where all the bags and spare parts were kept. A commercial shuttle-like lavatory was also on board for necessary refresher trips, and was placed in the back of the shuttle near the exit ramp, which folded into the back of the ship neatly.

The kitchen was a modest one, since the shuttle was not meant for long-term occupation. There was a stove top for cooking of basic items, a small heater in case one wanted to rapidly cook something, and then a small fridge for any perishable items. The family had a set of dishes and necessary utensils, and a supply of fresh water came from a tank in the bowels of the ship. The kitchen was not very much an official ‘kitchen’, more a small kitchen-like stand for food prep. Me’lin spent some time at the kitchen when she was not busy with Cecilia, like when the young child was sleeping in her makeshift crib. Galin had asked for noodles and cheese, and Mykal had agreed since it would be easy to cook, and he liked Me’lin’s recipe for the dish. Gark didn’t have any objections, and thus the Twi’lek got to work on the food prep.

When all was said and done, a nice hot bowl of food was given to each family member, who ate it with no complaints. It was a simple meal, yes, but it was necessary on a long trip like this one. They would eat better once they got to Trimfi, it was reasoned, so there was no reason to push it by forcing Me’lin to cook complicated items on such a small stove.

“I don’t know how you do it, but it’s good as always,” Gark said. “When I make this stuff, it doesn’t taste half as good.”

“That’s because I’m special, dear,” Me’lin said. “You know that.”

“Of course I do,” Gark said. “But I still don’t know how you do it.”

“Motherly instinct,” the Twi’lek said before kissing Gark. She then whispered, “And that’s only possible because of you.”

“Of course it is. I’m special in other ways, beyond that main one.”

“So you are. I’ll leave you to your flight duties.” She moved the dishes back to the sink and began to wash them out.

Gark worked for another hour doing some diagnostic checks on the ship. And signs were not as encouraging as he would have hoped. Most likely the issues weren’t major, but they would have to be addressed upon landing if they wanted to keep their shuttle fully-functional. Some modifications would be necessary to keep the engines running smoothly, the hyperdrive needed some work, and the sensors weren’t as up-to-snuff as they could have been. Mostly, though, Gark thought as he looked around, the ship was just too small. He, Me’lin and Galin had easily fit within its confines when the boy was 2, but now Mykal, who was a fully-grown young adult human, and Cecilia took up extra space. That meant needing more adequate facilities for everyone, because as the pilot he couldn’t sleep in his chair all the time. They needed a better set-up than this. It had been fine for the short trip to Ralltiir, but that had been a quick jump, and wasn’t a long ride. Trimfi was further out, and if they ever went to Kamados, the mysterious planet he owned in the Unknown Regions, they would require a better ship.

When they got to Trimfi, it was necessary to go through all the customs procedures. Once they were positively identified as members of a royal house, they were let through with no further questioning, and allowed to land on a reserved landing pad.

Once Gark got out, he looked at the exterior of his ship. Sure enough, it looked in major need of work. How it had gotten this bad, he didn’t know, but the repairs would be somewhat expensive. He didn’t know a lot about fixing mechanical issues, so it would cost quite a bit to put everything back together and get necessary upgrades in place.

“What are you worrying about?” Me’lin asked as Gark checked things over for the third time.

“Lin, I think it’s time we shop for another shuttle,” Gark said.

“What’s wrong with this one?” the Twi’lek inquired.

“It’s too small for all of us,” Gark said. “I was uncomfortable, and so were you, I could tell. Galin’s fine, but Cecilia didn’t like it much, and Mykal . . . well, it was a long-enough trip that it wasn’t fun anymore.”

“You’re right,” Me’lin admitted after a few moments’ pause. “What do you intend to do about it?”

“Find a dealer, and try to get a better ship for our family. Things are only going to get more crowded as Galin and Cecilia grow older,” the Bothan said. “Or if you were to ever . . .”

“Ever what?”

“Never mind,” Gark said, remembering not to bring that subject up. It was probably best this way. “Let’s use our royal titles and see if we can get some good recommendations on shuttle purchasing.”

After checking in to their vacation home, the S’rilys went shuttle shopping. The royals recommended a dealer down in a nearby valley, and once they got there, they could see why. It wasn’t like some of the sleazier lots on Coruscant full of used and rusty vehicles. Even the nicer ones didn’t always stack up to this. This place was fantastic, and their selection was vast. No doubt they could find a good ship here.

As they wandered through the lot, Gark and Me’lin stared at the various options. Some were small, sleek, and were arrayed in multiple different ways to show their finer features to curious passerby. Others were larger luxury yachts, slower vehicles that exuded a rich lifestyle with their attention to detail and many features that came at a hefty cost to the purchaser. Others were more like freighters, made for cargo sales. Obviously some Trimfians wanted to purchase freighter ships that could be used to transfer medium-quantity loads of goods. The commercial fleet lot was further away, but Gark didn’t want one of those. He wanted something with good value, yet was larger than the one they owned.

The salesman took them to another ship, this one longer than the S’rily family ship. It was also taller; although not quite the size of a luxury yacht, it felt like one. There would be more room in all three dimensions in this ship, and Gark asked about it.

“Would you like to see inside it?” the man asked. Gark nodded.

Once they went up the ramp, Gark and Me’lin were already impressed. The ramp opened up into a hallway, with four small rooms off to either side before reaching the main control cabin. “You may look at it as you like,” the salesman said. “I will be available to answer any questions you may have.”

The five S’rilys looked around the ship for the first time. To the left by the ramp was a storage facility, big enough for plenty of luggage, spare parts, and any other small items that would be taken on a trip through the galaxy. There was probably enough room to fit a small speeder bike in end-to-end inside the storage compartment, so that was a good thing. The back right room was the lavatory, which had plenty of space for refresher, sink, and area where a changing table could be installed for Cecilia. A tiny shower was installed in the very back, which would be enough to get by on interstellar journeys. Mykal the largest of the bunch, was able to get in and out with ease, which was the main concern of travel showers because of the unknown size of the inhabitants at any given time.

Galin ran to the front left compartment and opened it by the press of a button. Inside was the main sleeping compartment, complete with two bed frames. That would be enough for the boys to sleep in, Gark thought. Plus there was plenty of room to stretch out, so Galin and Mykal would be fine in that space.

“Where do we sleep? Where does Cecilia sleep, especially when she gets older?” Me’lin asked Gark as they went to the fourth room. This turned out to be a common room, complete with a hard-wired system for a HoloNet terminal, library space, two gravcouches, a dejarik table, and room for a fold-down bed out of the wall.

“I know where I’m spending my time,” Galin said as he looked around the room.

Then they got to the front of the ship. Off to the right was the galley, and Me’lin’s pulse increased when she saw the size of it. While not as large as the kitchen in their home, it was decently-sized, and would be a very practical space for her to cook in. Right in front was the control cabin, which had two plush-looking seats and all the standard controls, plus a panel for hyperdrive control and other gadgets that Gark would later have to learn to operate the vehicle.

But off to the back left of the main cabin was a sliding door. Gark pressed the button, and the door opened to reveal a few stairs. He went down first, and to his amazement he found a large lounge space down below the control cabin and going to the very back of the ship, making for a two-level shuttle. Side windows on both sides of the ship demonstrated what was outside the vessel, and some lounging space was available. A Holo screen hung from the wall, obviously useful for entertainment purposes and luxury cruising. At the very back were a sink and a small bar where two stools were located. When asked, the salesman commented that four people could sleep in the lounge area, which brought the capacity up.

But Me’lin still was unsure of where Cecilia would sleep. Her question was answered when Gark went through the door at the front of the lounge space near the Holo set. It opened into a small master refresher, which had all the necessary equipment for a refresher. Another door led into a master bedroom, which had closet space in the back, a large bed frame right in the center, and several windows looking out at the front.

“It was assumed that the owner of the shuttle would sleep here, probably someone with wealth and influence who would be throwing a party” the salesman said. “The view is meant for. . . well, impressing any present company,” he continued, trying not hint anything to the kids. “There are light shields that can be closed to allow for total darkness, even during hyperspace flight. It’s been tested by the manufacturer, and everything checks out for light control.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Me’lin said. She then winked in Gark’s direction, obviously her sign of approval.

When the family left the shuttle, Gark asked for the price. “Well, it’s a rather expensive model,” the salesman said. “Even with the trade-in of your old shuttle, it will still cost you almost 60,000.”

“We were told there was a royal discount here at the dealership,” Gark said. He pulled out his credentials to show that he was indeed a Trimfi royal member, and the salesman took a quick peek at it.

“Well, I’ll see that it’s added in, my Lord,” the man said. “We’re #1 with the Royal House for a reason.”

When all was said and done, the price was knocked down to 40,000 credits, plus any additional costs for furnishings. Gark immediately paid on the spot using one of his spare credit accounts, and the ship was soon in their possession.

“When can we expect to have it useable?” Gark asked.

“In a day or two,” the salesman said. “We need to finish installing all the necessary items to your specifications. That means adding in . . .” He went through a list of features that were going to be installed, such as beds, a crib for Cecilia, and the Holo terminal in the rec room.

When the rest of the family was out of earshot, Gark had one major question. “What kinds of defense does this ship have?”

“Local trouble?”

“You never know,” Gark said.

“There are two small blaster cannons in the top of the control cabin,” the salesman said. “Should be enough in case you run into pirates. Sometimes they ply around these parts, so it’s best to stay safe.”

“Shields?

“Standard deflector and ray,” the salesman said.

“Can they be upgraded?”

“We can look into it,” the salesman said. “Anything else?”

“Hyperdrive class?”

“1.8, so pretty fast,” the man said.

“Thank you,” Gark said. He hoped those defenses wouldn’t be necessary, but one could never be too cautious.

Once the ship was paid for, the S’rilys left the dealership and went back to their vacation home. There, they were greeted by a royal welcoming committee featuring several of the other Lords of the Trimfian royal houses. After spending some time talking, the committee left, and the S’rilys could settle in to their home.

“At some point we’ll probably be invited to eat at the palace,” Me’lin said as she opened one of the suitcases.

“Then we’ll need to make sure we’re ready for that,” Gark commented.

That night the invitation came from the palace for the Lord and Lady to visit the palace to eat, along with members of their family. Cecilia would be looked after by royal staff, so it was just to make sure Galin and Mykal were ready to go. Neither was sure of what to expect, and Gark wasn’t exactly able to help them much. “It’s going to be really tough for both of you,” he said as he helped get Galin into his fancy clothes. “You can’t talk about things we normally do at the dinner table like Limmie or high school. I need both of you to remain as calm as you can, and eat with dignity. Don’t talk with your mouth full, and be as neat and tidy as you can be. Got that?”

“Yeah, Dad,” Galin said. Mykal just nodded.

When they got to the palace, it was dark out. Gark got out of the speeder and helped Me’lin get out, her beautiful evening dress an unfortunate tripping hazard if she stepped wrong. The kids got out, and they all marched into the dining hall, where some spots were occupied at the great table, but not all were full like the last time Gark and Me’lin had been here.

“Ah, welcome, my friends!” King Rygoth said from his seat at the head of the table. “It has been a long time since you graced our humble planet with your presence!”

“We’ve had a rather hectic last few years,” Gark commented as they were shown to their seats. “Lots of things going on.”

“I see. Well, put your worries aside and enjoy the night. I promise to make it a good one,” Rygoth said.

And it was. The food was excellent, the company was fine, and it went down OK. All the while, Me’lin talked to Lady Garan, belonging to one of the other royal houses. The woman was six months’ pregnant with her third child, just about like Me’lin had been with her fourth pregnancy. However, she had a secret. “My first child, my daughter, the doctors were afraid I would miscarry her. Still birth, or something like that. They prescribed me this miracle treatment, and after just two weeks they went from not being optimistic to her being perfectly healthy.”

“What kind of treatment?” Me’lin asked curiously.

“It’s a mixture of a native Trimfian plant, some herbs, and sugar,” Lady Garan explained. “The herbs make it easier on the natal system, the sugar provides food for the baby and a medium for ingestion, and the plant, which isn’t well known but I think is grown on the other side of the planet, seems to fix maladies like mine. I’m so happy that it worked out, and I’ve been taking it ever since so that my pregnancies go through fine. My husband and I want four children, so I’m working on number three right now,” she said with a laugh.

“How difficult is it to get your hands on this?” Me’lin asked, lowering her voice.

“Not too hard. If you want, I can get you some easily. Are you interested in having another pregnancy?”

“I don’t know. If it happens, it happens.”

“My doctors also claim they’ve found a way to increase the odds for conception,” Garan said. “At least if it’s of interest.”

Me’lin looked to Gark, who was talking away. “It might be,” she said. “Determines on what I want.”

“Of course,” Garan commented. “It’s up to the two of you in the end.”

Mykal was busy talking to Jhen Corsica, the daughter of the Lord and Lady Corsica. She was about his age, and seemed very interested in his Limmie career. “I’ve never met a real Limmie player,” she said sweetly. “What’s it like, playing that rough sport?”

“Rough,” Mykal said.

“Oh come on, you have to feel proud of what you’re doing,” Jhen pressed.

“It’s a fun game, just hard,” Mykal admitted.

Moments later, Jhen dropped something on the floor, and she had to get out of her chair to get it. But this gave Mykal, who wasn’t expecting it, a good chance to view the girl’s rear end. He tried to look away and act casual, but when Jhen finally got what it was she was looking for, she turned around and smiled at Mykal. “I’m so clumsy,” she said, shaking her head.

Later on, another man told Mykal that, in his opinion, Jhen had been hitting on him. The teen wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

Gark was involved in a long conversation with a bunch of other royals. One of them asked how he had hooked a supermodel into marrying him. “She wasn’t a model, really, just the team secretary,” Gark admitted.

“A good-looking secretary,” the man said. “That’s what’s nice about being you, you have all the good choices.”

Gark wasn’t sure how to interpret this, but he stole a look at Me’lin from across the table. She was in her conversation with Lady Garan, and he wouldn’t stare at her. But it was very hard not to. His wife looked so pretty in her dress, her new level of fitness making sure she stayed in good shape.

By the end of the night, Gark, Me’lin and their family went back home satisfied with their meals. After spending some time getting Cecilia to bed, Me’lin found Gark alone by the sink. “I think that went rather well,” she whispered, not wanting to wake the kids up.

“I think it did as well,” Gark replied. “We got to talk a lot.”

“Gark, Lady Garan brought up an interesting thing in my conversation with her,” Me’lin said. She went on to explain the situation to Gark, who didn’t betray any emotion. When she got to the end of her point, Me’lin had a question to ask.

“If these treatments work . . . would we be willing to have another baby?” Me’lin finally asked.

“Lin, I think we’re fine with the two we have,” Gark said. “They’re a handful, and besides, we don’t know if what she did to get those pregnancies to work will help us. If you want another baby, we can try, but you promised last time not to.”

“And that’s why we’re not having another one,” Me’lin said. “You’re right, honey. Galin and Cecilia are our kids, and I wouldn’t trade them for the galaxy. I enjoyed the pregnancies, and now it’s time for me to be the best mom ever, no longer the best expecting mom.”

“Good. Because if I’m not mistaken, you liked the shuttle design today when we looked.”

“Of course. Now we can have moments to ourselves on shuttle rides. And I intend to make full use of it on the way back to Coruscant,” Me’lin said before she and Gark kissed. “Just the two of us enjoying each other’s company.”

“And no more talk of having a baby,” Gark reminded his wife.

“No more baby talk,” Me’lin promised before the kiss continued.

It was a pact that they would never break.

 

You're playing yo-yo with my emotions. First you get my hopes up that Me'lin might try for another baby, then you crush those hopes when they agree not to.

Of course, it could always happen by accident...

 

TAGS to jcgoble3, Tim Battershell, Trieste


Briar Thorne sat at her desk, looking through stacks of files that had gradually accumulated over time. She had a sharp mind, but at some point this was getting ridiculous. There had to be a better way to sort things and keep them in order. But the interns were not much help, and if things ever came to a head, it might only get worse.

And so it did. An assistant came into her office. “Ms. Thorne, the University called. The duration of the student intern’s internships has expired, and they leave after today.”

“Thank you,” Briar told her assistant, who backed out of the room. The GM then sighed; the interns hadn’t done a very good job in the office, but she was all for letting students do jobs like secretarial duties for the team, as long as they were being supervised by others. But that was the big issue in itself; her secretaries weren’t very good either. She had an older one and a younger one; the older one was organized, but had a habit of putting things in the wrong place. The younger one put things all over the place, and only remembered where things were some of the time. To make matters worse, the older secretary had put in her work notice that she would leave to pursue other opportunities on the job market. So that left Briar with a so-so secretary, and that was putting it mildly. All it did was give the GM a headache, one she would have to remedy soon.

Eventually Briar left her office, and immediately her question was answered when the younger secretary came up to her. “Ms. Thorne,” the woman said.

“Yes?”

“I’m putting in my two weeks’ notice,” the woman replied.

“What for?”

“I’m going back to school to get a graduate degree,” the secretary said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. My husband and I agreed that it would be best for me to do so.”

By the end of the conversation, Briar knew she had no secretaries left. The interns would be leaving by the end of the day, and then she would be left to fend for herself. Something had to be done, something drastic.

So she walked into the marketing department. Someone there had to know a being with secretarial experience, at least enough to get them through a new hiring period to find some new hires. She gathered the head of marketing and a few others, and then went into a room to ask them the question. “Does anyone here know someone who has secretarial experience?” she asked. “The two we have are quitting in a few weeks, and the interns are gone by the end of the day. I’d like to get the new hire process started, but it will take time, time we don’t have at the moment. The Draft is fast approaching, and any day we don’t have a secretary to take calls or file things is going to make it hard on all of us.”

“Lin was always real good,” marketing head Lyndra Corizyl said, almost muttering to herself. The Firrerreo, married to former goalie Tavis Corizyl, had worked for the Senators for a decade and a half in the marketing department. “She’d be a good stopgap, but she doesn’t work anymore.”

“Wait, who?”

“Me’lin S’rily,” Lyndra said. “She has experience, the right attitude, keeps things organized . . .”

“Wait, back up,” Briar said, holding her hand up. “Did you say ‘S’rily’?”

“Yes I did. She’s married to Gark S’rily. You know, the guy who hired you, and half of us,” Lyndra said, motioning to the others in the room. “She used to be secretary for the team, way back when I got hired in the 260s. I think that’s how they met. But she was a good one, always came to work on time, did what was asked of her, and was the best secretary we’ve ever had. Too bad she decided to quit and be a stay-at-home mom a few years ago.”

That gave Briar an idea.

---

Me’lin sat on the floor, playing with little Cecilia. Her daughter looked so cheerful, Me’lin noted, to be around her mother. It was the kind of time the Twi’lek treasured, to be with her children. It was the reason why she had decided to quit her job and become a housewife, also to let Gark do his regular day job and thus have more time to spend at home with his family.

The comlink rang, and Me’lin hastened to pick it up. “Hello, S’rily residence.”

“This is Briar Thorne from the Senators. Can I speak to Me’lin?” Briar asked.

“That’s me,” Me’lin said. She kept an eye on Cecilia to make sure the two-year-old wouldn’t do something stupid when her mother was occupied with the call. “Can I help you, Ms. Thorne? My husband won’t be back for a while.”

“No, I needed to talk to you,” Briar said.

“What’s this about?” Me’lin asked, sitting down on the arm of the sofa.

“My secretarial staff has decided to quit on me, and I’m in dire need of help at the front desk,” Briar said. There was a sense of urgency in her voice. “Lyndra in marketing recommended that I talk to you about coming back to work as the lead secretary for the organization.”

“Gee, Ms. Thorne, that’s a nice offer, but I gave the job up,” Me’lin said. She watched Cecilia laugh and sit with her back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. Obviously she found something rather amusing. “I decided it was time to move on with my life and do what I really wanted to, which was stay at home with my kids.”

“I really need the help. The Draft is coming up, and I don’t have anyone else to turn to right now until I can conduct a new hire process. And that will take a lot of precious time that I don’t have right now. Please, I need your assistance.”

Me’lin paused for several seconds. She looked back to Cecilia, who was now interested in staring at her intently. Thorne was indeed in a pickle, but the Twi’lek thought her place was at home. She had done this for her family, sacrificed her working independence to be a stay-at-home mother. That had been an easy decision at the time, and she didn’t regret it one bit. Cecilia had grown up with her mother constantly around, and it had definitely helped her daughter.

But there was something in the back of Me’lin’s mind that countered those thoughts. Although it seemed obvious at the time to quit her job, there was something she liked about working. The freedom to be making her own way in life, the opportunity to make a difference for others. When she had given birth to Galin, there was no thought that she would quit her job. She and Gark would go to work as usual, and would take care of their baby when they had the chance. That worked for a while until Me’lin got pregnant a second time, which ended up being Cecilia. She had decided to quit her job at that point, but the interest in working had always been there.

Could she go back to work, or would it be better to turn Thorne’s offer down? It would be family against personal gain, and Me’lin felt torn. She looked back at Cecilia, who was continuing to stare at her. She didn’t want to give this precious time with her daughter up, because it meant the galaxy to her. She also got to spend time with Galin when he was home from school, and that was nice as well.

“You still there?” Briar asked.

“I’m still thinking,” Me’lin said.

“Take your time,” Briar said.

It took Me’lin another minute to come to a decision. “Ms. Thorne, I’ll come back to work. When do you need me there?”

Briar obviously breathed a huge sigh of relief when she heard this news, because she didn’t respond right away. “I need you in at 0900 tomorrow,” she finally said. “Regular work time. And it’s not going to be easy for you to get everything settled this week, and I get that.”

“I’ll have it ready by the afternoon,” Me’lin said. And she wasn’t crazy in saying that; she had the knack for secretarial duties.

When Gark arrived home that night, Me’lin surprised him with the job offer she had received. Gark told her that it was ultimately up to her to decide how she wanted to go forward; he would be fine with whatever she decided to do. So it was decided that she would go back to work, timeframe unknown.

---

The next day, Me’lin went into work at Senator Team HQ for the first time in several years. It felt a little bit odd to be returning here, but on the other hand, it almost felt as if she had never left. When she found the desk, she quickly went to work organizing everything.

By afternoon, as promised, things were in order, and when Briar came back from lunch break, she found everything neat and tidy. “You weren’t kidding when you said you could have it all cleaned up by afternoon,” the GM said.

“I never lie, Ms. Thorne,” Me’lin said. “This is how I do my job. Without me, Gark never would have been nearly as productive as GM.”

“I can see that. Thank you for taking the job,” Briar said.

“Which leads me to ask: how long do you want me to do this job? Two weeks? Three weeks?”

“I was hoping you’d be a permanent hire,” Briar said, crossing her fingers behind her back.

“I’ll have to think on it.”

“Yes, you should do that.”

For the moment, Briar had staved off disaster in the Front Office, and Me’lin was back at work for the time being. Only time would tell if she would stay there long, or if it would just be until the Draft, and she would return to her homemaking duties afterwards.

 

Interesting. Me'lin back to work? Let's see what comes of that.

 

TAGS to Tim Battershell, jcgoble3, Trieste


“Daddy wake up!” was almost enough to shock Gark out of his skin. Luckily for him, his fur stayed on, but he was rudely awoken from his slumber by the sound of a very jubilant Cecilia. The two-year-old Twi’lek girl had a giant grin on her face, obviously having seen an opportunity to wake her father in as loud a voice as possible.

“Wha . . .?” Gark asked as he rolled over and looked at his daughter with bleary eyes. “What was that for?”

“Only because I said she could,” Me’lin’s silky voice came from the end of the bed.

“I figured,” Gark said. “You only give permission to the kids to do this when it’s a special day for me.”

“Of course,” his wife said. “Now it’s time for you to get out of bed, you lazy old man. Can’t have you sleeping in all day in your old age.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Gark said as he got himself untangled from the bedsheet (as he always found a way to get stuck in it during the night in his sleep). It was indeed a special day for him, his fiftieth birthday. Sometimes he thought about his age, and it was a sobering reminder that he was getting older. He had been young once, young and naïve that he only had himself to worry about. How wrong he had been then. Now he had a wife and kids to juggle as well as the rest of his life, being CEO at an interplanetary corporation, and being the owner of the Senators. His plate was full, and being fifty years of age made him feel slightly vulnerable. And the sad thing was that he wasn’t going to get any younger; the age change was permanent.

“Happy birthday, honey,” Me’lin said in a lot less jesting manner. “The kids and I made you something, didn’t we?”

“Daddy wake up!” Cecilia said again.

“Yeah, we’ve already established that I have woken,” Gark said.

“Hey Dad, you won’t guess what we made for you!” Galin said. The boy was now almost 8 years of age, and was becoming a very impressionable soul. It seemed like an eternity had passed since he was born all the way back in 273, but then again it didn’t seem that long ago.

“Let me guess, you made me a cake?” Gark asked. He was grasping at straws here.

“Not just any cake,” Galin said. “It’s a Superbothan cake!”

“For the man himself, no doubt,” Gark said as his feet hit the floor.

“For the Bothan himself,” Me’lin said. “You should see it. The kids put a lot of time into it, I can assure you.”

“I bet,” Gark said as he got out of bed. He was still tired, but being awoken by Cecilia’s yelling had shaken part of that to bits. Now he felt awake.

The party of four made their way out into the kitchen from the master bedroom, where Mykal greeted them. He was only a week away from returning to Dantooine for fall camp with the University Limmie team. His goal was to improve upon his freshman season and be a star full back. “Happy birthday,” he said to Gark.

“Thanks, Mykal,” Gark said. He sat down at the table, still somewhat groggy. Me’lin then handed him a plate full of food. “And I see you were kind enough to make me breakfast,” he commented.

“Well, that was my doing,” Me’lin said. “I figured you’d need a good breakfast for today. After all, we have things to do, people to see, places to go.”

“I didn’t know we were going anywhere,” Gark asked.

“We have a party set up and everything,” Me’lin replied.

“How come I didn’t know about it?”

“I’d say it was a surprise party, but we decided it would be best you know ahead of time so you could prepare,” Me’lin said.

“We?” Gark asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” the Twi’lek said, a sly smile on her face. Gark ate his breakfast and then went to clean up. When he returned, his family was ready to go somewhere. To where, he didn’t know.

That place turned out to be the stadium. He was escorted into one of the luxury boxes, where an entire party had been thrown for him. He was bombarded by well-wishers, and it took him a few moments to compute what he was seeing. His fiftieth birthday had brought out all the stops. The Horstses were here with three kids in tow, the Chambers-Vayne clan had their three children plus the fourth residing in the tiniest bump in Meredith’s stomach, Gark’s sister Ryal and her family was also here, and Londy Whiste, the longtime sidekick for Gark on the Andromeda side of things, was anxiously waiting for food. Allie Orchetrada was in the house, the former Cup-winning Coach bringing her son Landen in to see the great Bothan celebrate his 50th birthday, as was Ondal Nalcrissan and his family. Lastly, the duo of Zeke Barbosa and Jenna Leed were here with their two kids. It was an all-out party.

“You’re 50 now, eh?” Dirxx said as he approached Gark. “I can definitely say you’re an old geezer now.”

“Dream on,” Gark shot back. “You’re not a spring chicken, either.”

“Hey, I’m not 50 yet,” the Besalisk said with a gregarious chuckle. “Give it a few years. Don’t want to rush the process.”

“It’ll come soon enough,” Re’lia, Dirxx’s wife and Me’lin’s sister, said.

“Don’t rush the process,” was all Dirxx said in reply.

Gark made the rounds, going around each group and talking to them. “What’s this one going to be called?” Gark asked Meredith.

“If it’s a boy, then we’ll name him Duke. He’ll be the Duke of Limmie,” Meredith said proudly. “At least after our other kids get their chance.”

Next up was Ryal and her family. Gark got a long hug from his sister, whom he had not seen in a year or more. They spoke a few words in their native tongue about their parents.

“I wish they could be here to see us now, both successful and happy,” Gark commented.

“Yeah, I know,” Ryal said, wiping a tear from her eye. But they would have wanted to see us remember them in death as we did in life. I’m just fortunate to have an awesome brother like you.”

“Thanks,” Gark said.

“Even if you are getting old.”

“Don’t go there.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Ryal said.

Ondal and Gark reminisced about a few things from their college days, and Gark got to meet the man’s wife and daughter. When he moved on to Zeke and Jenna, he met their kids, and Landen Orchetrada got in a few words with the legendary Bothan. “My mom says that there might be space on the team when I get out of college,” he said.

“We’ll see. But your mother tells me you’re one good ball player.”

“Thank you, sir,” Landen said. “I’m aiming for a college scholarship.”

“Good luck to you,” Gark said with a nod. Obviously that meant a lot to the teenage boy.

When it was time, out came the cake that Gark’s kids had decorated. It was indeed a Superbothan cake, one with the logo from the comics on it. Obviously Galin had put that on there, since he was an avid fan of the comic series. A few squiggly lines were on there from Cecilia, and Mykal probably had designed something on the cake, but Gark wasn’t sure what that decoration might have been.

When Gark finally got a piece of his cake, he immediately started eating. Even if Me’lin would chastise him for being a little bit rude, he didn’t care. It was his birthday, after all, and hopefully she would understand that and let him be. “I’ll let you get by with those manners just this once, since it’s your birthday,” she said.

“I’m glad we came to this arrangement,” Gark commented as he continued to eat.

When the cake was consumed, it was on to the presents. Gark opened up about fifteen packages. The one from the Vaynes included a card that was poking fun at the age milestone. But the gift itself was nice; a set of Senator glass dishes and plates. “These aren’t even on shelves yet,” Polis said.

“How’d you get your hands on them?”

“Trust me, I have sources,” Polis said, winking.

The gift from Ryal and family was a wrap-around blanket called a “Snuggie”. It was one of those ‘As Seen on Holo’ products, and those were usually crappy. It would fit around Gark’s whole body and keep him warm. Gark got a chuckle out of that one, because he had never thought he would have one. He wondered if it even worked.

Finally they got to the present from his own family. He ripped open the paper to see a comic book inside. Opening it up, he found a one-of-a-kind comic book with the Legion of Bothan inside. There he was, with Me’lin as the Bothangirl in her spandex suit and oh-so-tasty looks, Galin as Sparrow, the sidekick, and Mykal as the bruiser in the back. Together they created the Legion of Bothan, and would save Coruscant from all evil.

“It was Galin’s idea, so I asked the publisher, and they agreed,” Me’lin said.

“Maybe someday the comic nerds will want a series based on this,” Gark said. “Besides, they probably need a hot female co-star in there to ogle.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Me’lin said, wisely wagging her finger at him. Gark just snickered at his joke.

The party went down to the field where a barbecue stand was set up for the main course, and everyone had a good time. Gark and a few of the others tossed a bolo-ball around, “just like old times” Dirxx said.

After an hour and a half, the party finally dispersed, and everyone went home. Gark took his presents and put them in the back of the speeder, and then Me’lin drove the family home.

When they got home, Me’lin let Galin and Cecilia go next door to play with the Chambers-Vayne kids, and then she had a word with Mykal in private. Gark didn’t know what they were talking about, but Mykal nodded and went outside.

“What was that all about?” Gark asked.

“There’s one more present waiting for you,” Me’lin said. “But she doesn’t come in wrapping paper or with a bow. She’s a bit more practical. Besides, it wasn’t suitable for all the kids at the party to hear about.”

“And I take it it’s in the bedroom?” Gark asked, a sly smile on his face.

“Yes,” Me’lin said. She gently rested her head on Gark’s chest. “A present for the best husband in the galaxy, and the greatest father to his kids.”

“Thank you,” Gark said. “When do I get this present?”

“Seeing that Mykal agreed to leave us alone for a while, whenever you want to enjoy it,” Me’lin said, the sly smile now creeping onto her face.

“Then why wait?” Gark asked. “I’d like it now.”

“And so it shall come,” Me’lin said. She playfully tugged at her shirt. “Shall we?”

“I’ve been looking forward to this for some time,” Gark commented. “I’m not holding anything back.”

“Then hit me with your best shot, honey,” Me’lin said. “50 years and all.”

For the next two hours, the couple made very passionate love to each other. It was the best kind of present Gark could receive from his wife, and he enjoyed every moment spent with her.

What he didn’t know about was the mysterious wrapper that Me’lin had been holding while they made love. Finally she let it drop to the floor before they started another round. It was the wrapper for a powerful fertility enhancer she had ingested earlier at the party, and Me’lin had every intention of giving it her best go in bed with her husband.

Gark was getting his birthday present, but Me’lin also silently wished that her present would be coming soon enough.

 

That definitely sounds like a fun birthday.

And don't knock the Snuggie 'til you try it. I have one, and when you're in the mood to be lazy on a cold day, it's a great way to stay warm while still having the ability to use your arms.

 

TAG to jcgoble3

“Honey, I’m pregnant,” Me’lin said proudly as she looked into Gark’s eyes.

“What do you mean?” Gark asked. “I thought we agreed not to have another child, and yet you let this happen? What happened to my end of this situation? What about Galin?”

“Come on, Gark, think about it. We’ll make up for the baby we never had.”

“You mean the one that almost killed you,” Gark said. “I don’t want to lose you, Lin. You’re too important to me.”

“Don’t worry, I have a plan this time to stay in good shape and eat the right diet,” Me’lin said. “This baby is going to live, I can guarantee that.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” Gark asked. He looked into Me’lin’s eyes. This would be the fifth time that she would be carrying a baby, with him being the father for the fourth time. “What if you’re wrong, and you die while I agonize from behind glass that you’re dying? Do you want that?”

“Honey, I’ve wanted this, no matter what we talked about,” Me’lin said. “It was an accident, I swear. And now that it’s happened, I want to keep going. I’ll do this for both of us . . .”

“What are you talking about?” Gark asked. “You knew all along. You made sure it would happen.”

“What?”

“You’ve been using a fertility enhancer, haven’t you?” Gark asked, accusingly. “You made sure I knocked you up. This was no accident. I bet you used me, promising to never have another child but then tricking me into impregnating you. I feel used, Lin, real used. And it’s not a good feeling.”

“I didn’t think you would notice,” Me’lin said. Now a pang of guilt entered her mind; she knew she had done wrong, but there was nothing she could do now to take it back.

“It’s not hard to see it when there are a few wrappers in the trash bin,” Gark said, annoyed. “I saw them all.”

“Please forgive me, Gark. I just wanted another baby, because I’ve never gotten over the last one being lost,” Me’lin said, putting her head down in an act of shame. “I should have told you. I should have told you from the start that I had possession of those pills. But now we’ve succeeded, and I think we should follow through . . .”

“No,” Gark said. “No we aren’t.”

“What?”

“I can’t risk you dying, not again,” Gark said, folding his arms. “This has gone too far. You want to lead a good family life? Live with the children we have now, and don’t go wishing for more.”

“But the other women at work aren’t being held to that standard,” Me’lin said, anger seeping into her voice. “They can have kids when they want, and don’t have a husband telling them they can’t be pregnant.”

“None of them almost died on an operating table in front of my eyes,” Gark said. “Or when I was off at work. I worry about you, and I think you’re tempting fate one too many times. I won’t allow it. If that means abstaining from sex for as long as it takes for you to get the idea, then that’s what it will take. I’m willing to do everything I can to make you reconsider this.”

“It’s too late; I’m already carrying the baby. Our baby,” Me’lin retorted. “And I’m having it, no matter what.”

“This has everything to do with Meredith, doesn’t it?” Gark asked accusingly.

“No,” Me’lin said. “But now she and I will have kids at the same time, make up for the last time we tried.”

“You’re a selfish girl, you know that?” Gark snapped. “You’ve used me, and I don’t think you ever consider what I’ve done for you. Do you know how much better your life has gotten since you married me? Think about it! How much money do you have? More than you know what to do with. You have two kids, plus Mykal. You have a steady job with the team, and a nice home. You have a speeder because of me! You have a job because of me! All that money, that’s mine; I’ve earned it so that we can both use it. But sometimes I wonder if you’re using me, betraying the marriage pact that you’re supposed to be looking out for me. And I feel left out, Lin. You can’t tell me you’re trying to get pregnant again until it’s happened, and now there’s no going back. You make it hard for me to want to stay with you at times, you know that?”

“No!” Me’lin said. A tear fell from her eye. “I know I’ve hurt you, but I want to make it up to you. I feel so bad, Gark, I really do. It was wrong of me to do this, but it’s too late now to change things. I’m having a baby, and there’s not much we can do.”

“I wish you had considered that before lying to me and pulling this behind my back,” Gark said angrily. “I’m ticked off beyond measure right now. If I was a hotheaded man, I’d leave right now. I wouldn’t look back, because if you lied for that, how can I be certain you haven’t been dragging me along on other things? How can I trust you?”

“I never lied!” Me’lin shot back. “Please, honey, reconsider what you’re saying!”

Gark smacked the sofa with his hand, silencing his wife. “Enough,” he said. He went to the door.

“Where are you going?” Me’lin asked, her voice cracking a little bit.

“Out. I need time to think,” Gark said. He opened the door and left the house, slamming it behind him. Me’lin was now standing by her lonesome. She looked down at her stomach. The baby she felt so relieved to be carrying was now a dividing line in her marriage. She had to make it up to her husband somehow.

She found Gark sitting on the ground in the driveway, staring out down the street with his back up against the speeder. “Gark, can we talk? Civilly?” she asked.

“No,” Gark said. “I don’t want to talk to you if all you do is lie.”

“I don’t lie when I say that I love you.”

“If you did, then you would have consulted me before trying a fertility drug. Lin, look at me, I’m 50 years old. I can’t be chasing a baby around at this age,” Gark said. “I’ll be too old for them. Not many men are new fathers at this age; their kids are already teens. We started late because we got married late, and Cecilia was an accident. We welcomed her with the expectation that I could keep up. But now I don’t think I can do that. And you’re getting older, too, and you have a job to take care of your time. I don’t want you to feel obligated to work at Team HQ when you really want to be home with your kids.”

Me’lin kneeled beside her husband. “I know,” she said softly. “I know that it’s harder for you at this age. Sometimes I worry about myself and my age. Can I really have a healthy baby in my 40s? Can I survive this pregnancy? I have a lot of doubts, honey. But one thing that I never doubt is the support I get from you. You may be mad at me right now, but I know deep down that you still love me. You would never leave me. Please just understand that this is happening . . .”

“Must it?” Gark asked. “If you wanted a baby that badly, I wanted you to ask me firsthand. You know me, I would have provided.”

“And you did, splendidly,” Me’lin said. Indeed, the night she and Gark had conceived had been a great night in the sack. “But I should have asked you before we got down to business, because I knew that this could happen. I wanted it to happen. Please forgive me, but don’t take this out on the baby. They deserve a chance to live.”

Gark looked up at Me’lin from where he sat. “Do you really want this?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Do you really want another baby? We still have Cecilia in diapers, and you want to add to that difficulty.”

“Yes,” Me’lin said. “Please, just go with me on this.”

“I’m afraid that I just can’t do that,” Gark said. “I have too many fears about this. I’ve dreamt about it more times than I care to, seeing you on that operating table, dying. And you die; there is no escape for you. All I see is your cold, dead body, and I tell myself that I should have done something to prevent that from happening. And it scares me to the core. You’re the reason for so many things that I do, and I don’t want to lose you.”

That statement stung Me’lin more than anything else Gark could say other than to threaten to leave her. He was obviously paranoid about her birthing history, and for good reason. She had no reason to feel cocky about her odds of a successful pregnancy; she was currently 2 for 4 in that department. Her mind went to Meredith and her baby; could she push through and join the Hapan legend as expecting moms, or could she learn to let the baby go and be happy with the family she had?

Finally she had to go to the Chambers-Vayne house next door and talk to Meredith herself. “Well, given that history, I don’t know if it’s safe for you,” Meredith said with a shrug. “I don’t have that history, so Polis and I have no fears for our twins . . .”

“Wait, twins?” Me’lin asked.

“Yes, the doctor just found out that I’m expecting twins again, a boy and a girl,” Meredith said. “But that’s not important for you. You need to consider what Gark thinks as much as what you think. Polis and I are younger than you two, and we’re fine with being at home since we’re both retired and can take care of the kids, all of them. But you both have jobs, and I don’t know if it’s smart for you to go through with this. Because I care, Lin, I really do. You’re our neighbor, and I care about your well-being. If Gark has concerns about your health, I would heed them. You don’t have to feel a need of compulsion for pregnancy. If you don’t want the child, then you don’t have to have it.”

“But you just said it yourself, you want the kids. I want another one, Meredith,” Me’lin said. “I want it so bad.”

“Have you thought of adoption again? I know Mykal worked out for you, and frankly, an older child would be a lot easier to take care of than a baby would be,” Meredith said.

“But what about this child?” Me’lin asked.

“That’s up to you. But you’ll regret it if the kid turns out to put you in a dangerous position,” Meredith said. “I would love nothing more than to see us give birth at similar times, but if it’s not worth it for your health, don’t worry about it. Sometimes being the best mother means doing what is best for you and your children. I’m doing my best by carrying twins that my husband and I have come to terms with. To be honest, when I heard the news, I almost aborted them.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It took me a few days to come to grips that it’s fine to have two kids in this go-around,” the Hapan said. “It’s tough to carry twins, but I’ve done it before, and I’m going to have them, healthy and all. But you need to determine what’s best for you and your family. If that means pulling the plug on this pregnancy, do it. Because your health is the more important thing in life; if you don’t have your health, you don’t have anything. Just consider that.”

Me’lin returned home to find Gark sitting on the sofa. “How’d it go?” he asked.

“Meredith told me the same thing you did. If I want the baby, I should go through with it. But I don’t need to have it. I’m conflicted.”

“Ultimately, it’s up to you, love,” Gark said.

Me’lin was on the clock now.

 

Will she or won't she? Stay tuned...

 

TAG to jcgoble3


It felt like a dagger was being plunged into her gut. Me’lin awoke in a cold sweat, and doubled over in pain as soon as she realized the pain was not just in her dream, but was in fact real. Gark didn’t awake, but Me’lin reached out and punched him in the head, trying to reach anything she could. That got the Bothan awake, and ornery as all get out that she punched him in the head. “What, is there an intruder?” he asked rudely, still half-asleep.

“My gut . . . it hurts!” Me’lin said.

“Anything more than normal for a pregnant woman?” Gark asked, rolling over.

“Yes. It reminds me of when I miscarried . . .” Me’lin said before gritting her teeth again. “I think I might be . . . agh!”

She fell down onto the bed, the pain intensifying. She put a hand on her stomach, but it did little to ease the pain that was shooting through her body. Was she having a heart attack? Or was the baby’s connection to her severing?

Then, as soon as the pain got worse, it went away immediately. Me’lin took several deep breaths, but didn’t feel any problems. Her stomach felt normal again, and she stopped gritting her teeth. “It’s gone,” she said.

“But we still should get you to the hospital. I don’t want this to become a pain that comes back,” Gark said. He got out of bed quickly, and helped Me’lin gingerly get around. Her belly was out at three months, so a bump was clearly visible. The Bothan got his wife to the hospital before more pains came on, and Me’lin was taken into the doctor’s office right in time.

It didn’t take long for the doctors to diagnose the miscarriage. They gave Me’lin some pain pills to deal with the series of pains she would get during the day, and then she was instructed to take it easy for the remainder of the day. If any further problems arose, she would have to be admitted to the hospital overnight for observation.

So Me’lin took it easy the rest of the day. Gark, visibly relieved that the baby would not be born but also concerned for Me’lin’s health, made sure to take care of her as best he could. Luckily he was able to take the day off from work and keep track of his wife’s well-being. The Twi’lek greatly appreciated her husband’s supportive manner, and he made sure she was in good spirits and taking her pills. There were a few pains here and there, but as the day wore on, they became less and less. The doctors said that when the pains subsided or were no more than a dull ache, that the miscarriage was complete, and there was no saving the fetus. Eventually it would disappear from her stomach, and it would go back to its normal size.

Three days later, the problems were gone, and Me’lin supposed that her pregnancy was over. She was saddened by it, but Gark had been right all along. He was 50 years old now, and she wasn’t young anymore, either. Having another baby would have put a major strain on both of them, and that would have thrown the validation of pregnancy for a loop. So Me’lin knew at this point that she had been pregnant for the last time; there would be no more attempts to conceive, and certainly more cautiousness when making love with her husband. She would miss the swollen belly and the prospect of new life, but she wouldn’t miss the morning sickness or the aching feet.

But the interest in another child remained. Gark was skeptical at first, as he always was. “Do we really need another child?” he asked. “We’ve already got two of our own, and Mykal’s here in the summer . . .”

“I really want this,” Me’lin said in reply. “Please. And Galin wants a brother; with Mykal gone, he doesn’t have one anymore who he can talk to and hang out with.”

“So you’re telling me you’d like to adopt a boy?” Gark asked.

“Yes. And preferably one around Galin’s age, so that he feels at home, and so we keep him around for as long as we can,” Me’lin said. “To be honest, I was hoping this pregnancy . . . or the last one, anyways . . . would have given us a boy, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

And so she hatched the plan to visit an orphanage, to see if she could find a boy to adopt who would join their vibrant, and rather off-beat, family.

---

The orphanage wasn’t very busy with traffic that day when Gark and Me’lin went. The staff apologized that they only had one or two infants, but Gark said firmly that they were here for an older child. He didn’t want Me’lin to get the idea that they needed a baby, because he wasn’t interested.

So the tour continued, and the couple got to see a lot of the children. Many of them in the younger cohort were playing by themselves with a bunch of different toys, but the couple kept moving. They found the 7 to 10-year olds off in a different room, and they seemed more interested in talking to the prospective parents once rumor spread through their ranks that someone might get adopted.

Gark and Me’lin looked through the room and talked to some of the kids. Some of them wouldn’t fit the criteria, because they didn’t leave a good impression on the couple or for other reasons that just left them unsure. Compatibility with Galin was crucial, and they were unsure some of these kids would fit in. One of them asked what Limmie was when Gark said he was a fan; he would never tell them who he really was, and hoped none of them would connect the dots and identify him. Then things really would have gone to hell, because all the kids would have wanted their chance at being adopted into such a powerful and wealthy family. It would have been an absolute zoo.

Then they heard a very interesting sound coming from the corner. It was the sound of a keyboard instrument being played very well by a young Zeltron. The couple moved over to hear what the child was playing, but the music stopped when the child realized they were being watched.

“Is it a girl?” Me’lin asked.

“I am not!” the child said, turning around to reveal a boy with very long black hair.

“Oops,” Me’lin said, an excuse-me expression on her face.

“Figures,” the boy said, turning around and beginning to play again.

“That sounds real nice,” Gark said.

“Thanks,” the boy said. “I’ve been working on this for about a month now. Finally learned how to play this song.”

“What song?” Gark asked.

“Do you listen to any music?” the boy asked. “It’s on the radio all the time; you can’t not have heard it.”

“I guess I don’t spend a lot of time listening to music these days,” Gark said. It was somewhat true; he had all of his old music from when he was a kid, and the stuff he listened to in college, but the kids these days probably didn’t recognize any of that material. They were into their new pop and weird rhythmic stuff instead of the old classics. “When I was your age, I listened to a lot of Blue Omwati Cult and Van Harkara.”

“Do you know Led Dreadnought?” the boy asked, obviously intrigued.

“Yeah. I used to listen to them when I was in college. I’m surprised you know who they are; they’re kinda before your time.”

“Are you kidding? That’s what I groove on!” the kid said, his face brightening up a little bit. “The other kids don’t want me listening to it on the radio, but I think it’s awesome.”

The two of them talked for about fifteen minutes as Me’lin listened cautiously. Gark seemed very at home with the Zeltron boy, the conversation going into the Bothan’s realm of interest. It was like he had found another soul with the same musical tastes, in the place he probably least expected it.

“I’m Rontavious. The other kids call me ‘Ronny’,” the Zeltron said. “Ronny Velhase.”

“Nice to meet you, Ronny,” Gark said. “Your music sounds really nice. But we probably should keep going.”

As the couple reconvened, Me’lin was still unsure. “I don’t know,” she said. “He doesn’t seem to quite fit what I’m looking for . . .”

“Oh, and if you’re interested in Limmie, count me in,” came Ronny’s voice from behind them. They turned to look at the kid.

“Excuse me?” Gark asked.

“I’m one of the best players at this place,” Ronny said. “I can keep my own with the other kids, even those a couple of years older than me. But I like my music, too. It’s what I want to do someday, play music and be a professional.”

“Our son really likes music and Limmie, and we were hoping to find someone like that,” Gark explained.

“How old is he?” Ronny asked.

“8,” Gark said.

“I’m 10,” Ronny said with a shrug. “I mean, I don’t mean to brag, mister, but you sound like the kind of guy I could definitely live with.”

“Are you asking us right here and now to adopt you?” Gark asked.

“Eh, why not? It’s not like I’ll get anywhere just sitting here and playing this thing,” the Zeltron said as he motioned to the keyboard. “All of us have the same goal; to get adopted, and to get out of here. It’s a nice place, don’t get me wrong, but we all have the same sob story. We all just want a family who cares about us. Some of the older kids feel they’re headed to the gutter when they turn 19 and they get booted out of here.”

“Are you afraid of that?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Ronny said. “We all are. I just want to grow up like a normal kid my age. Never knew my parents, and the staff here can’t tell me much. They don’t know, and I know even less than that. So I’m pretty much a musician wannabe who will probably never get the chance to get there. That’s just the way of the galaxy, I guess. Some people get ahead, and the rest just fall behind.”

“Where do you get this outlook from?” Gark asked.

“The older kids ask it all the time,” Ronny said with a shrug. “When you’re an orphan, you don’t have a lot to look forward to. I turn to music, but sometimes it’s hard to keep motivation going when you go to school and all the other kids are having parties at their house, and you can’t invite them over because you don’t have a family or a house to go back to. I feel so embarrassed that I’m an orphan, and the other kids, if they knew, they’d laugh at me. I eat free lunches because I don’t have any money to spend on supermarket food; I maybe get pizza once a month when the staff feels really generous and lets us eat the good stuff.”

Gark looked to Me’lin; she still had a skeptical look on her face. Obviously she was still deliberating.

That trend continued for a whole week, while Me’lin tried to make up her mind. “Didn’t seem like a bad kid,” Gark said one night in the bathroom as they got ready to go to bed.

“I just want to make sure we get a good match,” Me’lin said, tying her headtails together with the elastic band like she always did to make sure they didn’t whack Gark in the face during the night. “Because this is Galin we’re talking about, and we love him to no end. He deserves the best we can give him. If that means adopting a kid who has similar interests, I’d be all for it. Maybe I can’t provide him a brother naturally, because we know we tried our best, but I’m still going to do this for Galin because he’s my son. He deserves the best we can give him.”

By the next week, the adoption papers were signed, and Ronny came home with the couple. The first time he met Galin the Bothan boy was skeptical. “Does he really like music?” he asked his father. Meanwhile, Ronny picked up the quitarra sitting on its stand in the corner of the room and looked at it. He then picked it up and plugged it into the small amplifier that was sitting there. He twanged a few strings cautiously, moving his hand up and down the neck. Then came the sound of an experienced musician, him being able to make good sounds from the instrument.

It took only about two minutes, but then he put it down. “I prefer keyboard, really,” he said, “but I played quitarra, too. At least when it was available in the rec room.”

“Come on, Galin, play something with him,” Gark said.

“But Dad . . .” Galin said.

“Come on, just try,” Gark said. He handed his son his personal quitarra, the one the boy had received for Life Day. The boy just picked it up and strummed a few notes. Gark gave Ronny the quitarra he had just played, and the Zeltron looked at home. “Now play me something, boys. I want to see if this will work,” he commented.

Galin played a few notes, but then Ronny cut in with a solid solo. He played the frets very well, obviously knowing a few things about the instrument. But then he quieted it down and looked at Galin. “I guess I shouldn’t try to look like I’m better than you are,” he said with a shrug. “So come on, play me something. I’ll follow.”

So Galin did so. He started playing a riff that Gark had shown him, still skeptical about the Zeltron. Ronny came in with a similar line, and they played one hell of a solo together. To Gark, it almost sounded like they were two of a kind.

When the solo ended, Galin looked incredulously at Ronny. “How’d you do that?” he asked.

“I practiced,” Ronny said. “You didn’t do so badly. Soon you’ll be as good as me, if not better. I prefer keyboard, really.”

Galin still felt unsure of the new acquisition, but those fears were quickly put to rest when Ronny’s interest in Limmie came up. By the end of the day, the two seemed to be working rather well together. Gark got a smug sense of satisfaction out of it, and that sense of optimism bled into Me’lin’s mind as she watched the boys talk about music.

That night, Ronny slept on the couch in the living room, since the couple hadn’t had time to get him a bed or anything else for that night. “We’ll get it figured out tomorrow, I promise,” Gark said.

“Nah, it’s OK,” Ronny said. ‘I’m just happy to know I’m part of a family now, in a house. A real house. This is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Gark came into the bathroom after putting Cecilia to bed, and he found Me’lin messing with a box of pills. “What are those?” he asked suspiciously. Me’lin’s use of a fertility drug in the past made him wary of her intentions.

“Birth control,” Me’lin said. “This way we can continue to have intimacy, but I won’t risk getting pregnant.”

“Sounds like a win-win to me,” Gark said with a sly smile.

“And maybe we’ll give it a test run some night,” Me’lin said. “But, for now, let’s just get some sleep. We have plenty to get done tomorrow.”

“That we do,” Gark commented. “That we do.”

 

TAGS to Tim Battershell, Trieste, jcgoble3




From the Desk of Gark S’rily . . .

Many of you probably know who I am. I mean, really, I hope you know who I am. I’ve been retired for what, two years, now? Something like that? Anyways, I hope that your memory has not faded since then, because I am still very much alive. If your question is “Who are you?”, then I can only ask you to Wookiee-search my name on the Holo sometime. Give the Giggle search engine a try, really. You can’t miss with that engine. I mean, they even change their image every day!

Anyways, I have seen that there is an election for Supreme Chancellor of the Republic coming up soon, and before you ask me why I’m interested in the position, I’d like to get to the chase and just tell you. I would make an excellent chancellor, I really would. How could you deny that I would look good running the Republic? I mean, my wife says I’m a handsome devil already, but you can’t deny that awesome masculinity, you really can’t. Putting me in power would be the logical choice.

So you’re asking for my credentials? You don’t need to see my credentials . . . OK, I guess you do, too. Instead of going over a long list of reasons why I should be Chancellor, all you need to see are the two Galactic Cup rings I have in my trophy case. You know, the ones my wife says are kinda ugly compared to her wedding ring . . . this is precisely why I got her the best ring for that day, but it’s pretty unrelated . . . but no, those title rings are pretty special. They mean I overcame adversity and all that other stuff. Policy? Come on, I won two titles. I can get to the head of any line I want just by showing those babies off.

Wait, you want me to advertise my kids when I say ‘babies’? Nah, I’d rather not do that, because we all know the ‘cute kid’ phase starts a little later. I haven’t even declared my candidacy yet . . . that comes in a paragraph or two. You know, after I’ve kept rambling on about credentials that I kinda, sorta, probably not have. Yeah, those can be real killers, because I would love to say I have them, but I don’t unless you count my practical experience in hard environments to replace a piece of flimsy saying that I’m certified at something or other. I really don’t know how they do that . . . isn’t that how they do patents? Fill in a form or two and give millions of credits to you or something? I really don’t know, but I don’t care . . .

Because I’m a frakkin’ CEO, baby! I do what I want, I eat what I want, and I definitely put my shoes on my desk when I want to. I’ve got a whole army of lobbyists at my fingertips, a legal staff that’s second-to-none, and if you need any more proof of my power, just look at how I appear in a suit and tie. Seriously, I look like a freaking model out there. You can’t handle the truth! Maybe in another life I was a model . . . seriously, I’m a living god!

And I’m a hero, too, the kind the Holo shows rave about. I’m a celebrity who totally gets what he wants. Need to have someone saved? I’m on the case. Because you know I’m reliable like that . . . even my wife says it when we’re in bed . . . oh wait, I’m supposed to have the scandals happening after I’ve announced my candidacy? Oops, guess that gundark’s out of the bag. My bad, guys, really. But I’ve got an awesome superhero suit that makes me look like the best man ever in this galaxy. Luke Skywalker needs to bow down in his grave to me! I am literally the next coming of everything! When you watch me eat a sandwich, I literally do it so epically that your brain almost can’t process it. That’s how amazing I am. Superheroes gotta eat, and I love chips. You know, those that come in those little bags that you buy at the sandwich shop . . . oh wat, I’m too cool to go in through the front door. I break in through the window and make a grand entrance. Show off my bling, and I’m at the front of the line ordering smoked nerf steak stacks. Booyah!

What would I do if elected? Free tacos would be a good start . . . nothing like free food. And then I would have to record a Holo reality show of me eating in my office. Can you imagine the suspense if I find the catering staff got my order wrong? I’d probably sic an army on them! The Senators might not like it, but hey, a guy’s got a right to his correct order in this galaxy, doesn’t he? I mean, those Mandos kill people on less-legitimate grounds than that, so why can’t I push my weight around a little bit? You really don’t want to see the full Bothan Rage I can go into, because it’s not pretty if you ever see it.

So yeah, my wife . . . she’s a real keeper. You know, the kind you come home to at night and know you somehow lured out of the pool of candidates. Being a politician or powerful dude means you gotta have a woman supporting you who’s able to deal with the media and is amazing in bed. I don’t think I could live a whole month without her, because us politician types have to get all the support we can get. And have you seen her? She’s as much of a model as I am; those nice curves of hers, and those thighs . . . I’d probably get slapped for saying this otherwise, but she’s smokin’!

My kids . . . well, they’re just kids. Don’t have any superpowers, and are more lithe to ask me to feed them than to help me run the galaxy. I mean, come on, guys, I made you possible . . . you could at least show a little respect for me and help out! After all, who else can I turn towards when I need to determine what color to paint my Supreme Chancellor-type office? Pink or blue? My daughter probably says pink, but she thinks even the sky should be pink, and we know that’s not gonna happen.

Or maybe it could. Remember, I’d have access to all sorts of secret military things. There’s gotta be a planet-wide pink paint bomb, right? Make things kinda colorful? Oh wait, that might destroy everything in its path? Well, at least everything would be pink that way!

So, back on topic. My Limmie experience has made me adept at finding new ways to motivate people. I show them my rings, and stuff gets done. Have a pressing diplomatic crisis? No problem, guys, I’m on the case. Shoot a few Holos, sign some autographs, and we’re all done here. I can diffuse all sorts of problems; I’m just awesome like that. And you know it, too.

If it hasn’t been made very, and probably painfully obvious, by now, I am totally running for Supreme Chancellor of the Republic this year. Because I can.

Sincerely,

Gark S’rily


P.S. I’ve always had a crush on Cali Pek. You know, the old Republican U head coach. She’s totally my celebrity crush. Oh wait, I’m married already? Booooooo . . .



Gark put a hand to his forehead and sighed. Obviously someone was having too much fun with this prank.

“Wow,” was all Me’lin said after she finished reading the 'leaked' document on the strange website she had never heard of. “They don’t know you very well at all.”


“Like I’d want to be Supreme Chancellor of the Republic,” Gark said, scoffing at the notion. “That’s never going to happen.

 

Here's some story from the game thread which, since it involves Gark's personal life some, goes here better.

TAGS to jcgoble3, Tim Battershell, Trieste


Briar Thorne was deep in thought about team matters as she wandered through the office on her way to get food from the small cafeteria that the Team HQ building offered. She had several contract situations to consider, including star full forward Leia Adama, whose rookie deal was expiring. There were persistent rumors that the Miners would make a big push to acquire the daughter of one of their legends, so Briar’s job was made that much more difficult by her former employers’ rumored interest.

And then there was the situation about Jet. No matter how much Briar tried to distance herself from those thoughts, the Holo image of her and Jet from the time when they were in a relationship still came back to haunt her. She wasn’t sure why it kept coming to mind, but there was something in that image that had popped back into her mind. Was it a gut feeling? An interest? Or was it just a childish desire that she had dealt with promptly after Jet betrayed her? Had she grown up by suppressing her emotions, or was there something there that had been covered for so long that had now been unleashed again? She didn’t know, but the Holo was still in the back of her mind, and it didn’t want to go away.

As she went through the lobby, she witnessed Gark S’rily, the Bothan whose job she had taken over, talking to his wife, the secretary for the team. She could overhear some of their conversation from where she was, and she didn’t know why she stopped to pick it up at all. But something compelled her to.

“ . . . you want me to pick the boys up from school?” Gark asked.

“I think it would probably be best,” Me’lin said. “Galin has the science fair tonight, so he needs to be home early and have dinner and be dressed up for the presentation.”

“Are you coming home at the usual time, or is your plate full?”

“I have plenty to do today,” the Twi’lek said. “I’m afraid I might not be able to pick the boys up like I promised I would try to, and I think if you can swing it, you should get them from school and take them home. I’ll try to be home early enough to fix dinner.”

“Alright,” Gark said. “I’ll check my schedule at work and then go from there. I’ll see you later.”

“Tell Galin that he’ll be fine tonight,” Me’lin said, a slight bit of concern in her voice. “I don’t want him to be too nervous about it.”

“I’ll tell him,” Gark promised.

“See you later, honey. Love you,” Me’lin said, and the couple shared a momentary kiss before Gark walked out of the HQ building towards the parking lot. Me’lin went back to her duties, but she noticed that someone had witnessed their conversation. “Ms. Thorne, can I help you with anything?” she asked when she noticed who it was.

“Not necessarily,” Briar said. She wondered if she should ask the Twi’lek a question, one that had been burning at her for a day or two now. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Certainly,” the Twi’lek said. She folded her hands on the desk in anticipation of what the GM would ask from her.

“I’m really not sure what it has to do with anything, but what I just witnessed . . .”

“Oh, that. Our son has a science fair project presentation tonight, and he’s a bit nervous, as we all would be at that age. So Gark needs to go pick him up from school today so that there’s plenty of time for him to get ready for the big event,” Me’lin said.

“No, that’s not what I really wanted to know,” Briar said, trying to skirt around the question by not explicitly saying it.

“Then I don’t understand what you mean,” the secretary said, shrugging.

“I guess it’s . . . it’s . . . a question about relationships,” Briar finally said, getting the courage up to ask about it.

“You’re asking me for relationship advice?” Me’lin asked, taken aback. She had never thought Briar would ask such a thing.

“Yes, because I know you have a very pronounced one, and I need advice,” Briar said.

“Then pull up a chair. I’m not an expert, and sometimes I feel lost in my marriage, really. But I push through the rough patches the best I can,” Me’lin said. Briar took a seat in a hard plastic chair and sized up the Twi’lek. “So, what would you like to ask me?”

“Recently, I was reminded of a relationship I had in the past. One that I had to break off because the man in question left me for another woman,” Briar said.

“Ah, lost love. I know what that feels like,” Me’lin said. And she certainly understood what a lost love interest felt like; she had cried almost non-stop when Gark had supposedly been murdered by Calo Mornd in 272. She had thought he was the only man for her, and when he “died”, she couldn’t handle it.

“He has recently come back into my life, and I’m conflicted.”

“You want him back?”

“No . . . I just cannot understand why the thought of our relationship from over a decade ago, which I decided to bury as far down as I could ever since, is coming back to me, pieces at a time. How would you approach it?”

“I don’t know, Ms. Thorne. I’m not a relationship expert. I can only provide you with experience from my marriage, which isn’t the typical relationship in many aspects.”

“I guess my question for you is this . . . how can you feel like you need a man in your life? I’ve been on my own for so long that . . . I have never really felt a need for one.”

“Gark means everything to me, Ms. Thorne,” Me’lin said. “He brings a whole different aspect to my life, one that I cherish each and every day. When I wake up in the morning, and he’s there, I feel like I have everything I need in life. Don’t ask me to explain it, because I can’t, but he basically completes me, like I do for him. I’d be lost without him.”

“And that’s what I don’t understand. He doesn’t bring you down, your hopes, your ambitions?”

“On the contrary. He helps me get where I want to be. I didn’t marry him for the money or the fame. I did it because I saw a lot of promise in him, that we were the right fit for each other. And that’s something that goes beyond basic goals and dreams. He plugged the holes I had in my life, and he let me come into his life like he did to mine. We have to compromise on a lot of things, but ultimately we manage because we would feel helpless without the other now. It’s just how things have evolved, and how we’ve built our lives with each other.”

“Have you ever wondered what you saw in him that attracted you?”

“He’s a handsome man, I freely admit it. But he’s also a smart man, a kind man, and very understanding. I can ask him a question, and he’ll give me an answer. Not always the answer I want to hear, but usually the one I need to hear. And that’s special. Most men won’t do that for you, but a special one will click. And that’s what Gark has done for me.”

“I guess I’m just hesitant to open myself to another, after all these years,” Briar said. She felt a bit uncomfortable asking the secretary these questions, but now was the perfect time to do so. There might not be another opportunity later to do so.

“Ms. Thorne, I can’t be your advisor, but I think that if you feel a need to ask that question, give this man a try. You’re not out anything trying again, if you feel like there’s something tugging at you,” Me’lin said. “Gark and I haven’t had the perfect marriage; we’ve had our bumps, major bumps at times. But we give each other a second chance, and that is enough to work through any rough patches. If we didn’t have the patience, we’d be separated by now.”

“I’m not really sure what I want,” Briar said. “I don’t even really want a relationship . . . it’s hard to explain . . .”

“It sounds like you would like to ask me if you should pursue this man you once liked,” Me’lin said. “I think you should try. You’re not out anything asking yourself if you’re open to a relationship. I was looking for the perfect man for a long time, and Gark isn’t perfect, no one is. But he was the best match I could find. Can you find it in yourself to open up? If not, then you’ve answered your question. But if you can, like I did, go out there and try to find a match that works for you. And it’s going to be a long, hard process, because you’re fighting yourself, but I think it’s worth it.”

“So go after this pursuit is what you’re saying?” Briar asked.

“I didn’t ask you to marry him, just find it in yourself to wonder if a relationship with a man is right for you. Then go from there. Gark was right for me, we married, we bought a home, and are raising a family together. Without him, I don’t get pregnant, and I don’t have a daughter or son to help with school science fair projects. It’s simple; I opened my heart to him, and we clicked well together. You need to determine if this man of yours is worth the effort to get back, or if you want to enter a relationship with him at all.”

Briar left that conversation with more questions than she had going in. Was it worth the effort to let Jet back into her life? He certainly seemed interested, but could she forgive him for running off with Ilena when Bison had been the future GM’s landing spot at the time? Could Briar Thorne change her ways and find it in herself to move on from those demons and live anew? It looked like there was a lot of thinking she would need to do in the coming days.

 

A few things might be explained today . . .

TAGS to Tim Battershell, Trieste, jcgoble3



The face was unmistakable, that much was for sure. “Hello there,” said the woman, her eyes staring daggers into Gark’s soul. “I trust that you are enjoying your family and your life?”

“Yes, I am, thank you,” Gark said back, mistily. But something about this conversation felt wrong, but he didn’t quite know why. This woman seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place her face. Somehow he couldn’t make out who she was supposed to be.

“I am very glad to hear that you are enjoying your family time,” the woman said. “If only you hadn’t robbed me of mine,” she continued.

“Wait, who are you?” Gark finally demanded.

“My name is Mila Milberry,” the woman said back, her eyes narrowing. “And you had me murdered in cold blood by your assassin. Sleeping pills and whiskey can only cover your tracks for so long.”

“Do I know you?” Gark asked, stupidly.

“You never met me, and that’s the beauty of your crime,” Mila said coldly. “You see, in order to save your pathetic family, you took me away from mine. I never did you wrong, did I? And guess what? Now my family, my kids, they don’t have me around anymore. I hope you’re happy with yourself, you stupid piece of sithspit.”

Now Gark remembered what the woman was talking about. She had been the first victim of the Binn Kinshry murders . . . or the murders he committed using Gark and Nat as the perpetrators. Kinshry was the mastermind of the slayings, but Gark had been forced to carry them out, and Nat had done the deed. She had done his work for him, and it had always made him sick. Gark had tried to keep those terrible days from his mind, but obviously this dream was turning into a nightmare. Why was this happening?

“Why have you come back to tell me this?” Gark asked.

“Because you took everything from me! What did I ever do to you?” Milberry shrieked. “You killed me because someone else told you to, and your assassin did a good job of it. And you don’t feel the least bit sorry now. Now that you have your family and you’re all happy, you forget that I was a casualty of your greed. I didn’t have to die, because my family doesn’t have me anymore. You traded yours for mine, and you’re happy you did. Fat load of good that did my husband and my kids. You should have left them, and myself, out of your little vendetta.”

“I’m sorry,” was all Gark said.

“I’m sure you are,” Milberry said, rolling her eyes. “Your lies just demonstrate the evilness of your soul, Gark S’rily. You are an evil man, and if your family ever knew you killed someone in cold blood . . . they would have every reason to leave you. I am ashamed that you haven’t admitted your crimes; you should be in jail now, fessing up to your sins.”

“I didn’t have a choice!” Gark said. “Do you think I wanted to have you killed? No. Kinshry did it to me.”

“You should have let your wife and child die. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, and you chose the needs of the few. You’re a dirty lowlife who doesn’t deserve anything nice. You deserve to burn in a thousand fiery furnaces.”

And then Milberry was gone, replaced by a balding man whom Gark recognized as Mr. Pulmee. Nat had shot him and his family dead at the Oranga Theater, also on Kinshry’s orders. “Pulmee,” Gark said, mouth agape.

“What did I ever do to you? You killed my entire family,” Pulmee said. “Here I was, a devoted husband and father, providing for my family, and then to have them all be dead by your blaster . . . you deserve a fate worse than death itself. You don’t have a soul, you monster.”

Then Pulmee disappeared, and the man Nat had killed in the club came back to haunt him. “A baking pan? You killed me by drowning me in a refresher!” the Twi’lek yelled at Gark. “How terrible a way to go! You could have killed me a slightly more dignified way, but no, you had to cover your tracks! You don’t deserve to live.”

And then Binn Kinshry came into his mind. “Even after I am gone,” he said menacingly, “you are still haunted by what I did to you. You will never come to grips with what you have done. If your family only knew the monster you are to society . . .”

“Leave me alone!” Gark yelled at Kinshry. All of the ghostly specters appeared behind the bald man, saying things like “You deserve to die” and “You monster!”, and Gark yelled several more times for them to leave him alone.

Finally he awoke in a cold sweat, and he looked over to Me’lin. She was still asleep, and he wondered how she could be. He had to get up and find answers, so he got out of bed, slapped on a bathrobe, and then went outside into the early morning sun. It was cold outside, with a breeze blowing down the street, but Gark didn’t care. He sat down on the curb and stared into the distance.

It must have been half an hour that he sat, staring at the Coruscanti skyline in the distance, before he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Me’lin’s concerned face. “What’s wrong, honey?” she asked.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Gark said, his eyes downcast. Could he dare tell her what he had done to get her back? She would have every right to leave him if she knew, every right to expose him as a murderer and a fraud. His marriage and reputation would be finished if the truth came out.

“What’s bothering you?”

“I had a nightmare . . .” Gark said. “It was about Binn Kinshry.”

“That terrible man,” Me’lin said. “What did he want?”

“It reminded me of all the terrible things I had to do in order to get you back,” Gark said. “I paid the price, Lin, to get you back safe. And in the process, I tore out a piece of my soul. All the beings I killed . . . I don’t know what came over me.”

“You did what you had to,” Me’lin said.

“No I didn’t,” Gark said, looking up at her. “None of them deserved to die, but I was scared. I was too scared to try and take Kinshry down by myself. I failed at everything, Lin; I’m a horrible person.”

“He didn’t make it easy for you. To be honest, I had to kill two of his thugs,” Lin said. “I didn’t want to kill them, because I’m not violent, but . . . I don’t know, I was in a rage, and I did something out of character.” She sat down next to her husband on the curb. “Gark, we both did terrible things, and there’s nothing we can do dwelling on the past.”

“You don’t understand,” Gark said. He had to tell her; he wouldn’t forgive himself if he didn’t.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t just kill Kinshry’s goons,” Gark said. “I killed innocent people.”

Me’lin’s face darkened. “What?” she asked, a twinge of shock in her voice.

“I killed innocent people. I took them away from their families,” Gark said, angered by these memories. “They had done me no wrong, but I had them killed . . . killed like animals. I knew it was wrong . . . damn I knew it was wrong, what I was doing. But Kinshry gave me no choice; it was either you or them to die. And I made a terrible decision to kill them . . . most of them never knew it when they were to die. They died in terrible ways . . . I’m a monster,” he said, finally putting his head down. “And that’s all I will ever be.”

“I can’t believe it!” Me’lin said, shocked. “How could you?”

“I did it because I loved you, and because I wasn’t being rational,” Gark said. “I should have fought him, I should have challenged him, but I was too weak. I instead did his bidding, and it almost caught up to me. I didn’t have the guts to tell you then what I had done to get to you, because I knew you would leave me then and there. So I have kept it hidden all these years, and now I guess you know the whole story. And, if you leave me because you know the truth, and because staying with me means being with a monster, then you’re right in doing so. I’m nothing but trouble,” he said, he head sinking further towards the curb. He was in a very dark place.

But instead of hearing a very terse Me’lin tell him off, instead he could feel her arms wrap around him. Was she going to try and strangle him? He tensed up a bit, to defend himself from what he knew she had to do. He didn’t deserve to live after what he had done.

But Me’lin didn’t try to hurt him. “He brought out the worst in us,” she said. “But you cared for me, and you feel regretful for what you did. I cannot condone what you did, because murdering is not a small task nor should I congratulate you for it. But I can’t be mad at you because I know I am just as much of a monster as you for killing the thugs who . . . took my pride from me when they . . . had their way with me.” Obviously her painful memories were coming back up to haunt her. “Kinshry deserved a fate worse than death for what he did to us, but we both admit that we did monstrous things. It’s why we should try and move on, try to forget what transgressions we did and learn to live. Because it does us no good dwelling in the past.” She paused for a few seconds. “I’m glad you told me. Glad you told me because I had a few demons to tell you about, too.”

“So you’re not going to leave me?” Gark asked, raising his head.

“We’ve been over this, honey,” Me’lin said. She leaned over and gave Gark a light kiss on the cheek. “I’m not going to leave you, and I’m not going to let you leave. If there’s something I have learned over the course of our marriage, it’s that we’re not perfect people. But we stay together because we’re a special couple. We have the right chemistry together, and I don’t want to interrupt that. Yes you did terrible deeds during the Kinshry problem, but we both did evil acts. Sometimes we have to do terrible things to help the ones we love.”

“I just wish I had knocked them out instead of killing them,” Gark said.

“Yes you should have. But there is no use dwelling on that now,” Me’lin commented softly. “Now, let’s go back inside. I think it would do you good not to worry about what you did in the past.”

The two of them went back inside, and Gark felt a little better about his situation. But it still haunted him that he had killed all those people; Kinshry had deserved it, but the others hadn’t. They would probably haunt him until the day he died.

---

“Kill those people? As if we killed them,” Nat said.

“What do you mean?” Gark asked.

“You really thought I killed all of them?” Nat asked. “I really had you going there, didn’t I?’

“What in the hell are you talking about, Nat?” Gark asked. He had to know what the security officer was hiding from him.

“I never killed any of those people I was contracted to murder,” Nat said.

“But I saw them!” Gark said.

“Mila Milberry? No, I just snuck in something that would slow down her pulse. She was confirmed dead at the hospital, but her pulse was just hiding. I kept it hidden, because I knew you couldn’t bring yourself to actually murder people. The Twi’lek man we killed at the club? Guess what, I tilted him at an angle so that he didn’t drown in the refresher bowl; he was unconscious for a long time, long enough for our trick to work. The Pulmees? You really thought I had given you a blaster rifle that could kill them?”

“You mean it wasn’t set to kill?” Gark asked, incredulously.

“I’m surprised you thought I would actually kill them,” Nat said. “You told me not to kill them if I didn’t have to, so I did your work for you as promised. If you had asked me to murder them, I would have, but you didn’t. You contracted me to make them disappear. I made sure they could disappear for a while. Remember, I was taken in the ambulance to the hospital with the Pulmees. I hijacked the ambulance, and after getting rid of the crew, took the bodies of the Pulmees to a safe location where I knew they couldn’t be found. An old contact took them in at great risk to himself, and he was able to keep them out of sight until Kinshry was gone. They are still very much alive.”

“So you’re saying that you lied to me that you were actually killing them?” Gark asked.

“Why do you think I was so cool?” Nat asked, shrugging her shoulders. “I would like to think you should be thanking me for what I did.”

“Prove it,” Gark said.

Nat tossed him a datapad, and Gark read an article about Mila Milberry ‘miraculously’ coming back from the dead to stop a corrupt politician from passing an unfair law. The Twi’lek man’s career was still intact after he had come back to life, and the Pulmee’s business was back in full force after they appeared from thin air after apparently being murdered at a theater.

“Now, what do you have to say to me?” Nat asked.

“Thank you,” Gark said after pausing for several moments. “I can now sleep easy at night knowing that they’re alright. But why didn’t you tell me they weren’t dead?”

“That whole period brought out the worst in everyone. I was wrong in thinking that I could impress you into liking me, and I realized that it would do me no good to try and hook up with you. So I learned my lesson, too. We all did horrible things, but it seems to have worked out in the end.”

Gark indeed slept better that night, better than he had in a while.

 

TAGS to Tim Battershell, jcgoble3, Trieste


Gark and Me’lin sat in the stands at the Little League game, watching Galin play with his team against a team from several miles away. Ronny was at the concession stand purchasing some food, having already played in his game earlier in the morning. His team had lost 15-12, but he had been efficient in his role as a two-way player, recording a nice assist on a play to the corner forward, and recording half a dozen tackles. At his age, the players were allowed to start tackling, but the refs were going to keep a close eye on the kids to make sure they had proper protocol when they tackled other players. If anything was deemed dangerous, the child was removed from the game. It was hoped that such play would lessen the chance for injury, and maybe help the players learn safer ways to play the game.

“Galin’s doing well,” Me’lin commented. “I can see that you’ve been helping him out quite a bit.”

“I think Mykal helped him some, too. Over the summer,” Gark pointed out. “You know that they had some practices in the backyard when I was at work . . . or I guess when both of us were at work.”

“I just hope Galin didn’t pick up any bad habits from Mykal. I shudder to think what kind of violence could be learned from the college game,” Me’lin said, her body shaking slightly when she said this. “And what Mykal learned about the game might not be suitable for Galin at his age.”

“We’ll keep an eye on it, that’s for sure,” Gark said. “But let’s allow Galin to develop some skills. Who knows, he might not play Limmie up to high school; lots of kids drop out of organized sports before then.”

“Are you wanting him to drop out?”

“I thought you were insinuating that you wanted him to quit,” Gark replied.

“No . . . I just hope he figures out what he wants for himself. We shouldn’t interfere,” Me’lin said. “it’s up to him in the end.”

“Yes it is,” Gark commented. Ronny returned with popcorn, the Zeltron boy munching part of it down as he came up to join his adoptive parents.

Galin was having a hard time with his matchup today. It sucked to not be able to tackle, because he couldn’t make up for the speed difference. He had to try and make plays at a disadvantage, so he had to be dogged in his approach to the game. Two goals had been scored on his watch, and he didn’t want to let another one in. If he was ever to get further in this sport than Little League for 8 year-olds, he would have to do better.

Finally his chance came. A ball came up in the air, wobbling like crazy. He jumped into the air and pulled the errant pass down, then ran the ball up the field. The crowd cheered him on, but his coach was probably wishing he would just pass the ball. Galin made a bad attempt on a goal shot, and the ball sailed out of bounds. Galin ran back to his side of the field, obviously distraught by the lack of range on his throw.

“I think we just got a teachable moment,” Me’lin said. “His teammates were wide open. Did you see that one kid? He had all sorts of space around him.”

“I think he understands it,” Gark said. “Just look.” The parents looked at their son’s glum expression as the ball was put back into play. “He knows it. We’ll see if he can get that one out of his system.”

Galin finally did, when he got another interception. This time, he passed off quickly to a teammate. It was probably too quick a dump-off, but it got the job done. Gark would go over things with his son after they got home, hopefully providing teachable moments for the young Bothan.

When the game ended, Galin’s team lost by a healthy amount. The boy trudged off the field, his head down, but Me’lin tried to cheer him up with a hug.

“Sometimes they just don’t go your way, kiddo,” Gark said.

“But Dad, I’m no good at this game,” Galin said, shaking his head.

“Don’t tell me you want to quit,” Gark said. “You’ve still got half your season left; stick it out, and then we’ll talk after the season.”

“Gark . . .”

“I know what I’m saying,” Gark said, holding off his wife’s interjection. “Besides, I think it’s time I work with you a little bit, try to iron out those mistakes.”

“If I could tackle, it would be easier,” Galin said.

“You don’t need to tackle to be a good defensive back,” Gark commented, kneeling down to be on level with his son. “You need to have good ball instincts. Mykal was a lot slower than many forwards he faced off against, but he learned how to use the skills he has to be an effective player. We just need to find what you’re good at, and go with those skills. Don’t worry, kid, the season’s not over yet. There’s still time to turn things around.” He then mussed up his son’s head fur a little bit with his hand. “Come on, let’s go eat.”


Galin wasn’t sure what he was in for, but hopefully it would improve his game.

 

TAGS to Tim Battershell and Trieste

Andromeda Corp. Headquarters, Two Days After Ralltiir Game

Any sense that Gark had about it being another normal day at the office was expelled when he saw the pile of boxes outside his office door. Perturbed by the sight, he went inside the office to see two men cleaning up the space. But they weren’t just cleaning things; they were taking things off his desk, off the shelves, and out from the nooks and crannies and putting them in boxes.

“What the hell is going on here?” the Bothan demanded.

One of the men looked at him. “Cleaning up the space as requested,” he said simply.

“Who gave you authorization to clean out my office?” Gark asked angrily. He certainly hadn’t said anything about putting his stuff in boxes to haul away.

“The Executive Committee did,” came a familiar voice. Gark spun around to see the executive in question, the sharp-cheeked Myke man staring at the Bothan with that same icy stare. Gark found it rather creepy during board meetings, and it was even worse now.

“The Executive Committee?” Gark asked. “What do they want?”

“There are a few things I need to tell you,” the man said. “Over the past few years, the shareholders have become increasingly impatient with their company stock trends. As you know, Andromeda is a major institution, and brings in all sorts of revenues. However, not all is well with that business model Instead of turning over a handsome profit like they expect from such a large corporation, they are instead barely scraping even when they intend to sell their stock. While there are many theories to why this is, the main consensus is that the CEO was doing things that were not to their liking.”

“What I do is my own damn business, not theirs,” Gark said.

“Not in a publicly-invested company,” the man said, that same look on his face. “You see, the shareholders don’t like that you spend more company credits and resources on a silly Limmie team than is re-invested in new technologies or given out to shareholders as profits that they rightfully deserve. They have paid for their stocks in the company, and expect to be rewarded for their investments. That’s not anything new to corporations, mind you; just a simple fact of doing business.”

“What’s your point?” Gark asked, skipping to the chase. He was starting to feel very uneasy about all this.

“The shareholders have requested that a change in leadership is necessary, and I put their concerns to the Executive Committee. After the vote, you have been removed from your position as CEO and your employment with this company terminated.”

“You don’t have the grounds or jurisdiction to do that,” Gark said, snarling. His teeth were bared now.

“Want to bet?” the man asked, still unconcerned with the gravity of what he had just said. “I have the results of the vote right here,” he said, handing Gark a piece of flimsy. The Bothan looked at the sheet, and he could not believe what he was seeing. It was an official form that the corporate office had just in case an Executive or the CEO was to go through an impeachment vote; Gark had found it rather unnecessary, but it was still there anyways. And now it had just been dropped on him without notice. All the executives had signed their names on the “affirmative” side of the page, with none on the “negative” side. And the worst one was seeing the trademark signature of Londy Whiste, Gark’s long-time right-hand man, voting to impeach him.

“But why?” Gark asked, looking back up at the man.

“You see, Mr. S’rily, this is a corporation, not a family-run business. You might feel rather empowered with the Limmie team and the atmosphere where you feel a sense of kinship with the workforce, but that’s not how business is run successfully. The shareholders brought up an excellent point; your methods are not only running counter to good business sense, but your policies also fail to bring in expected profits because you are focused on giving the common worker what you feel is ‘fair compensation’. You are too burdened to the worker’s unions, and in are, in layman’s terms, too nice.”

“You mean that you feel threatened that I’m not bringing in unsung amounts of credits,” Gark said. “Look, pal, you may not have them, but at least I have scruples.”

“Successful businessmen do not have any sense of morality, just a sense of what will make more credits,” the man said. “Credits make everything happen. They makes shareholders happy, they make us happy. We make money, we are happy. But if we don’t make money, then we all suffer. The workers may not understand that, because they are too busy with their jobs to understand how the big picture works. And right now, we are losing in the big picture. Profits are not up to snuff, and that must change.

This corporation cannot survive with you at the helm, so the executives and I have removed you from the company. Now, we would like you to vacate the premises as soon as possible so that we do not make a scene. We are, however, offering a very generous severance package so that this does not appear to be a senseless firing. After all, Mr. S’rily,” he said, leaning in a bit, “I do have one scruple: to not start a media firestorm if I can help it.”

“You mean you’re going to pay me off to hide your own dirty tracks,” Gark said.

“Not how I would put it,” the man said. “It’s a very generous offer, especially since we are not burdened to give you anything.”

“I thought there was an appeals process in an impeachment.”

“Protocol says there isn’t.”

“How many more rules have you bent to serve your twisted goals, may I ask?”

“None, Mr. S’rily,” the man commented. “It’s just good business.”

“Good business? You’re insane, the lot of you,” Gark commented, snarling again.

“We’re doing what we have to,” the man replied. “And, as far as the team goes, you are well-aware, I am sure, that an authorized representative of the company is the one who oversees operations. But, if you are no longer an employee of Andromeda, then you can no longer be the owner of the team. Consider that position overtaken by someone more understanding of how the galaxy works.”

“You can’t do that,” Gark protested.

“I can, and we, as the Committee, have. Please vacate the premises,” the man finished.

Gark couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had wondered if at some point he would need to retire from the company, but he never thought he would be removed from office. Something fishy was at work here, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it. But losing his job didn’t hold a candle compared to losing the Senators. He had just gotten them back, and now they were gone from his grasp. It was as if his whole world was crumbling before him.

And then an intense anger filled him. He wasn’t going to lie down and take this beating. “Before I go, I have one more thing to say,” he said. “Remember one Calo Mornd? He did the same thing you’re doing right now, you son of a Hutt. He took my company and my team away from me. Guess what, I beat him. And now he’s gone. And if you don’t shape up, I’m going to bury you,” he said. And he meant it.

“I’m trembling,” the man said, obviously sarcastic.

“And when Gark S’rily buries you, you are as good as toast,” Gark said.

Then he saw Londy Whiste. “How could you do this to me?” Gark asked.

“Sorry, boss, but my hands were tied,” Londy said.

“Like hell,” Gark said. “You’re dead to me, Londy. Dead.”

As Gark walked out of the Andromeda building, he felt a sense of extreme dread. Where was he going from here? He had never thought this day would come, so he had no plans of what to do next. What would Me’lin say when she heard her husband had been fired? Could he face her as anything less than what he had been?

---

Me’lin heard the sounds of the engine in the driveway, and went out to investigate. Gark shouldn’t have been home so early, she thought. She met him at the door with a concerned look. “Are you feeling all right?” she asked as he came in.

Gark said nothing as he put his keys into the tray, his hands shaking a bit, and then he flopped down on the nearest seat he could find. He looked like a traumatized man, shuddering a little bit as he breathed.

“Gark, what’s wrong?” Me’lin asked. Now she was very concerned about her husband’s welfare.

Gark gave her a hollow look. “I’ve just been terminated from my job.”

“What?” Me’lin asked. “That’s not possible . . .”

“It happened. The Executive Committee voted unanimously in favor of firing me, which they have the legal ability to do,” Gark said. “And now I’m gone from the company. But that’s not the worst thing. Londy voted in their favor. I trusted him, Lin! I frakking trusted him!”

“He did?” Me’lin asked, completely shocked. “He was your biggest ally . . .”

“And now he’s let me down,” Gark said with a huge sigh. He let his head droop back and began to stare at the ceiling.

“What about the Senators?” Me’lin asked. “If you’re no longer with the company . . .”

“I no longer have any ties to the organization or its constituents,” Gark said, his voice now becoming very scarce. “That’s how my tenure with the team ends, with thunderous approval from the Executive Committee. I’m no longer a Limmie man. It’s over.”

In just a few minutes, Me’lin went from being concerned to absolutely sick to her stomach. She knew how much the Senators meant to her family, especially to Gark. “I fear for what Galin will say when he learns the news,” she said.

“We’ll have to break it to him slowly,” Gark said. “Real slow.”

“Oh, honey, I can’t believe this,” Me’lin said, sitting down in a state of shock herself. “I know how much the team means to you.”

“And now it’s gone,” Gark said, still staring blankly at the ceiling. “I can’t do a thing about it.”

“Can I offer you a way to get your mind off it for a few minutes?” Me’lin asked.

“I don’t think it would help, Lin,” Gark said. “This hurts too much, and it’s going to linger. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to you. I couldn’t perform the way you would like me to . . .”

“Performance doesn’t matter as much as you being able to forget about what happened today,” Me’lin said, a small tear dropping down from her eye. “I want to help, whatever it takes.”

“But you deserve more than what I could give right now.”

“Gark, I just want you to know that I support you, and I know how hard it is for you right now,” Me’lin said softly.

“Can you come to grips to not have me as the executive and Limmie man you married almost a decade ago?”

“Of course, honey. It’s the man that matters, not the job or the title. And as your wife, it’s my job to make sure you get through this.”

“That means a lot, you know,” Gark said, now looking at the Twi’lek. “But Galin’s going to be crushed.”

“Then we need to figure out how to break the news to him,” Me’lin said. “And you need to do it. Galin trusts you the most.”

“He’ll be crushed.”

“I know, but we don’t have a choice now,” Me’lin said, another tear dropping from her eye. “He deserves to know.”

“And this whole thing means that you don’t have a job either,” Gark said. “Now we both need to find new work.”

Me’lin didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. She was feeling the pain her husband was experiencing.

When Galin got home from school, Gark broke him the news. The boy, as Me’lin predicted, couldn’t take it and stayed in his room the whole night without coming out. Gark wanted to hide his head, too, but he couldn’t. He had to keep providing for his family, whatever that would take. He vowed to make things right.

But when he woke up the next morning, as a man without a job or a haven to hide in, it really sank in. Gark S’rily was no longer involved in the Elite League, and had completely failed his entire family. And that was a pain he knew he might never get over.

 

Something's fishy here, and Gark needs to get to the bottom of it, pronto.

Which means... Superbothan?

 

TAGS to Trieste and Runjedirun


“The answer is still ‘NO’, Mr. S’rily,” the independent arbitrator said. “I’m afraid that you can no longer appeal the company’s judgment under the grounds of your contract. There was no breach of conduct cited as a reason for your dismissal from the company, so you cannot claim that as a reason to go through another appeal . . .”

“I’d rather not have to take this to the courts,” Gark said.

“You probably could, but I do not know if you could win,” the arbitrator said coolly. “Listen. The contract, from what I have read, does not have stipulation for much beyond your failed appeal here to regain your position. The wording in the contract describes very clearly the process by which the Executive Committee can remove an acting CEO from their position. Since no foul play seems to have been undertaken here, I cannot suggest you try to appeal the system one more time. There simply can be no other answer, because I have looked at the evidence, and nothing would suggest that your removal was for anything other than a lack of company revenue under your leadership.”

“Are you sure? I’ve had my leg pulled at least once on these kinds of things,” Gark asked hopefully. “And those charges were bogus.”

“While those may have been, those charges were also a breach of conduct on the part of Mr. Mornd,” the arbitrator said. “For which I recall is one of the reasons why he lost in your lawsuit against him. But this case seems closed in the appeals process within the company since there was no breach of conduct.”

“Probably made it easier for them not to cite a reason, so that they could make it up,” Gark said.

“But you cannot prove them wrong,” the arbitrator commented. “So, I would suggest you drop any further appeals within the company and determine whether or not you want to continue. I would recommend that you not take this to court, because if you do it will be very difficult to win your case.”

“I have to do it,” Gark said. “There’s no other option in sight.”

“Then good luck,” the arbitrator said before leaving.

The odds were stacked against the Bothan now, but he never took “NO” for an answer if he could help it. He had beaten the odds many times before, and it was time to do it again. After all, he had no leg to stand on against Mornd, but he had buried the man when it came time for the court action. No doubt he could do the same again here.

When he got home, he carefully planned out his plan of attack. Me’lin noticed that her husband was deep in thought as he worked tirelessly to prepare his case. By the next day, he had already filed a complaint with the court system of the termination of his employment, and by mid-day had hired a lawyer to help him in his case. He wasn’t going down quietly, not now.

---

Two Weeks Later
Eighth Circuit Court, Coruscant Justice System, Court Room #3

Gark’s case had been presented to a judge, and now it was time for the ruling to be given. If he failed here, he could always take it up one step higher on the court circuit. But after that he was out of options, and he didn’t want his back to be against the wall.

So it sucked that he lost out on the appeal. The company, for some reason or another, had been able to defeat him. After all, the judge said, they had a pretty-much airtight case against the Bothan, and the judge saw no reason to overturn it. This angered Gark, but he would not be deterred because the company and the team meant that much to him. He wasn’t going to go down quietly.

By the next day, he had filed one last appeal with the Regional Court. There were only two of these, because the Supreme Court would not hear his appeal for it was out of their purview. Lots of cases never got this far, but he was going to try anyways.

The media interest in his case wasn’t as much as he would have expected, but there were still some cameras as he went into the courtroom on the day of his hearing. It wasn’t the first time the Bothan had been in court, but each time seemed scarier somehow than the last. Being down to his last strike also didn’t help matters.

The hearing lasted two days, mostly because the judge asked for a chance to think things over. Without a jury in place on such an appeal, the judge had the ultimate say in how things would be run. Gark pleaded his case the best he could, and after the defense seemed a little weak in places, with the judge asking for actual facts and not reminders of just a few key points, this was now or never. He had to win this case. It was absolutely vital for his image, for the company, and for the team, that he win this appeal, get back to work, sew up any loose ends, and save the company and team from utter disaster.

By the end of the second day of the hearing, the judge took a few minutes to ponder things, and then came back into the room.

“I have come to a decision on the case of S’rily vs. Andromeda Steel and Droid Corp.” the man said, his booming voice clear throughout the empty court room.

There was a slight pause here, and Gark closed his eyes and crossed his fingers. He had no other recourse now. This had to be in his favor . . . it just had to be. Everything depended on how this verdict went.


“The verdict I shall give in this case is . . .” the judge began.


To Be Continued . . .

 

Damn cliffhangers. WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN?!?!?! I can't take it! *rips hair out* Owwwwwwwwwwwwww..........