Short Stories

This part of the page I've reserved for fiction written by members of our gaming group. Most of us enjoy writing some of the scenes that we either never had time for in the game itself, or those scenes that don't work as well for actual gaming. There's a lot that needs to be added - for now, I'm posting the first story I wrote involving our characters. Reconciliations is a story I wrote over the course of a couple of weeks in 1998. It resolves a relationship that started for the characters a little over a year before the story takes place, and starts moments after the last game we played in this part of our universe. There have been more than a few problems for the protagonists - when Rhyssa and Desslok first got involved, it was unplanned and unintentional, and involved a very good bottle of Scotch. That such a relationship would develop for a woman who has devoted her entire life to the cause of the Alliance and then the New Republic is ironic, and wasn't something anyone in our gaming group expected or planned on, the gm included. Still, we don't like to erase anything, so we went with it. Because she became pregnant, things got much more complicated. Rhys has kept the children (she had twins) away from their father; he has been, after all, a dark Jedi until very recently. She has managed to remain loyal to the New Republic, but the relationship with Desslok has caused more than a few problems, and she is now caught between a rock and a hard place, between her sense of duty, her heart, and some dubious choices she has made in the past.

This piece means a lot to me. While I know that it can't have the connections it does to someone who knows these characters, I'm posting it here anyway on the chance that someone else may enjoy it. I beg your patience; there will be more here about these characters, in this section and elsewhere on the page, that will explain a lot. Until then, while I hate to harp on anything, please respect my work - this took a lot of blood, sweat, and tears, and means the world to me. Please do not reproduce any of it in any form anywhere without first getting my express permission. I thank you for your respect. Enjoy!

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Reconciliations

The Imperial Star Destroyer glowed white against the blackness of space, apparently motionless, though in reality she was moving along at a fair clip. TIE fighters zipped by in clusters of three and four on nearby patrol vectors, moving with typical Imperial precision. The Imperial picture was somewhat marred by the disreputable-looking freighter docking in the main hangar bay of the Star Destroyer. The TIEs seemed to be disdainfully ignoring its existence. They were not ignoring the X-wing still hanging off the port bow of the capitol ship, however; it they were watching rather closely. Old habits died hard.

Rhyssa Ke'Sahndhran sighed as the freighter finished docking, and moved her X-wing into a proper approach. A confusing welter of emotions whirled about her, and she stuffed them back inside, concentrating on the docking instead. Even with the size of the bay in front of her, there wasn't much room for a mistake, particularly when the bay was moving along at the pace it was. She was well aware of the observation; she smiled, and gave into an impulse. Even as part of her winced at the ego of it, the rest of her focused, moved, and the X-wing dropped back rather suddenly. A group of TIEs squawked indignantly over their coms, and she ignored them as she threw her ship into a reverse loop to gain more space. She paused a moment, re-aligning, and then hit her thrusters for a second and spun into a triple barrel roll as she hurtled back towards the hangar bay. Alarmed techs ran for cover as she brought the ship in. Rhys couldn't help it, she grinned, and killed her velocity with expert timing, landing exactly on target. Klaxons were sounding everywhere, and her com was being blistered by the duty officer, as she started shutting down systems. It had been a stupid move, she admitted to her still grinning self, and she wasn't entirely sure why she'd done it. Her sister's face flashed before her, an answer in of itself, and she blinked hard. There wasn't time for that right now. Still, she thought, damn but that felt good.

She wasn't looking forward to this meeting at all. She would much rather have flown back to the disabled Mon Calamari Star of the Republic ship to dock. The Mon Cal wasn't going anywhere in the near future, though, and her friends had come here. Rhys was prepared to admit to several faults, but cowardice wasn't one of them, and so she finished her post-flight check, racked her helmet on the back of her seat, and flipped up the canopy. The deck officer glared at her from across the bay, and she gave him an apologetic shrug as she climbed down to join her compatriots. She knew what she'd have to say to any pilot pulling that kind of stunt while landing in her bay, but she had a hard time feeling appropriately chagrined about it.

It was rather odd, she mused, how she still almost expected to see Sid and Jared and Anita in situations like this. Instead, she saw Ren and Dayana, Brev Yarrow - and he still owed her for that gash across her freighter - and a tall, blue-skinned man in the uniform of an Imperial Grand Admiral. Mickey came down the ramp as Rhys finished climbing out of her flight suit. She gave herself an almost imperceptible once-over and walked to where they were waiting for her. Yarrow snapped her a salute; she returned it without taking her eyes off of the man in white.

"Admiral Thrawn," she acknowledged coolly. The admiral said nothing, maintaining an impassive face. She turned to Ren and Dayana. "I believe the bridge is that way?" Dayana moved into the lead, and Rhys allowed herself to fall in at the rear. Her emotions were no closer to sorting themselves out than they had been at any time in the last year or two. There was too much there to deal with all at once, and she needed more time - but she wasn't going to get it. Which was typical of the universe, as far as she was concerned.

The trip to the bridge took ten interminably long minutes as they processed along the causeways and up the lifts, flanked by their escort of stormtroopers. Yarrow and Mickey conversed quietly among themselves, while Dayana and Ren watched Grand Admiral Thrawn like a pair of stooping hawks. Thrawn himself remained almost studiously calm, carrying himself as if he were about to embark upon a tour of a museum.

The doors of the final lift whisked open, and Rhys found herself on the bridge with the rest of the group. A tall, dark-haired man in an (almost) Imperial uniform turned to greet them. He, too, had blue skin and glowing red eyes, and he regarded Thrawn a moment before turning to Dayana. Rhys ignored the look he shot her, turning her head instead to look at another Thatramorian standing on the bridge. He hadn't turned to face them as they had come in, and he stood there, gazing out at the stars and the passing TIEs, seemingly pondering the universe.

After a moment in which the world seemed frozen in time, the stargazing Thatramorian turned to face the people waiting for him. He nodded his head to his daughter Dayana, and then turned to address Thrawn, all polite formality.

"Welcome aboard, Grand Admiral. I have taken the liberty of arranging appropriate quarters for you. I do hope you find them suitable. Tranith, would you be so kind as to have the Admiral escorted to his new temporary home?" The dark-haired man saluted, and turned to snap out orders. A squad of troopers formed up around the admiral.

"With your leave, Lord Desslok?" Desslok nodded, and Tranith led the stormtroopers and their prisoner off of the bridge.

"Captain Ke'Sahndhran," he said next, "is all secured here, or does the Star of the Republic require further assistance?"

Rhys set aside the rest of herself with some difficulty and fell into the familiar role of military officer. "All that can be done for the present has been done. The Alderaan is underway, on an intercept course for the World Devastator a few light minutes short of Coruscant." Rhys' voice and eyes were flat, almost blank. "She has a full squadron of X-wings to fly a screen around her until she can fully engage and destroy the Devastator, and she's made the window she needed to accomplish the mission, thanks to your help." She took a breath. "The fighter squadron, however, may need some assistance for any damaged X-wings, as they will not have a capital ship available to return to after the battle." She could feel Ren's worried eyes on her, but she would not let herself think of what she was saying as anything but a tactical report. Desslok, however, probed.

"Would you care to define the situation a little more specifically, Captain? Will the Alderaan require assistance to handle the Devastator?"

Rhys closed her eyes for just a second, and took another deep breath. When she opened them again, her eyes were no longer flat, but bright with grief and fury. Her voice, however, remained calm. "We'd never catch her. The Alderaan is just barely in fighting shape, if that, but she can take out the Devastator. We rigged the cannon to the reactor, and I added a few extra 'boosts' to it as well. All Erinn," she swallowed. "All Captain Ke'Sahndhran needs is one good shot. She'll get it." Her eyes looked almost defiantly into his as she finished. "But it will cost us the Alderaan."

Desslok watched her for a moment. Her feet and hands were set, her body rigid. She looked as if she were braced for an attack - and she probably was, but the only one here who was attacking her was herself. He knew her better than most might think, and he knew how much not being with her sister right now was costing her. She wouldn't thank him for saying so, however, and so he turned to give orders. "Captain Theis, set course for..."

"Sector 3 by 8 by 1," Ren provided.

Desslok nodded. "Best time, Captain - there may be survivors. Inform me when we are one hour from our target. Carry on." He turned and motioned the group ahead of him into the office he kept just off of the bridge.

***
Out of the spotlight and with nothing to be done this instant, Rhys felt as if the world was suddenly crashing in on her. The immediate battle was over, and it was harder and harder to set aside the emotions straining within her. She clenched her teeth and fought it back. She was not going to break down right now. She felt Ren's hand on her shoulder, gripping tightly, and she smiled slightly as she looked at her adopted daughter. "I'll be okay, Ren," she assured her daughter quietly. The look Ren was giving her made it quite clear that she didn't believe Rhys for a minute, but she said nothing.

Desslok had seated himself behind his desk, and the others had all found chairs or a couch. Ren and Rhys joined them, and he paused for a moment. "It will take us five days to reach the point where the Alderaan will be intercepting the Devastator. We'll be launching a full complement of TIEs immediately upon arrival, and taking care of any survivors, before continuing on to Coruscant. This leaves very little time if the Devastator has not been destroyed to correct that, but it can be done, and the information to be gathered is worth it." Yarrow started to open his mouth, but Desslok continued.

"I expect you'll wish to help with the rescue efforts. I suggest that you take this time to rest; we're going to be very busy rather shortly. I've arranged quarters for you to use if you like, or you can remain on your ship. Now, if there are no other impending crises we need to discuss, you'll excuse me. There is much to be done."

It was a sure sign that the crew were exhausted when everyone save for Dayana got to their feet and headed out the door without making any comment. Desslok's eyes rested on Rhys' retreating back for a moment before meeting his daughter's gaze.

She smiled at him. "It's good to see you, Father. You worried me, disappearing the way you did. I was afraid that I'd lost you again.." Desslok smiled back at her, and leaned back in his chair.

"I had to see to this myself. You understand that."

"Of course I do. But I'm beginning to appreciate how you must feel at times when I insist on dealing with something personally." She switched tacks for a moment. "I was hoping we could have dinner together tonight. We have a lot to catch up on, and you need to know at least some of it before we reach Coruscant." Dayana grinned again - this was too good an opportunity to tweak her father's nose to be passed up. "I wouldn't want you stepping on my toes when we get there, after all."

***
Rhys tossed once again, and sat up, suddenly awake. She looked at her chrono, and groaned. This was useless - sleep wasn't going to happen right now. Well, she thought, might as well do something useful with the time, and perhaps vent some frustration, as well. She slipped out of bed and into a pair of rather old and battered sweats. Anyone awake this time of night would be on duty, and the gym should be empty. Flipping her hair into its customary braid as she left her quarters, she moved silently into the corridor ... and ran into Ren. Rather, into Ren's footstool. Ren had both feet propped up as she leaned back in her chair, book set down on the small table beside her at the interruption. Rhys came to a halt, a bit surprised at the minor camp set up outside her door.

"Need something?" her daughter inquired up at her.

"Not really," Rhys replied.

"Since you're up, then ... we haven't really had a lot of time lately, have we?"

Rhys shrugged a little. "We haven't had much chance. What are you doing out here at three in the morning, Ren?"

Ren dropped the inquiring look from her face and got straight to the point. "Watching you."

"Why?"

"It's rather obvious that you have something on your mind. Want to talk about it?"

"Not really, no." Rhys' reply was as blunt as Ren was. Ren didn't let it faze her.

"It doesn't just go away because you avoid it."

Rhys started to move around the obstacle. "No, it doesn't. Don't quote things I taught you when you were two at me."

"Oh, I see. When you say it, it's good advice. But when I say it, it's just annoying."

"Ren, you're missing the point, and we're not having this conversation. I am working out, and you are going to get some rest. You've been pushing yourself too hard to be standing sentry duty in the middle of the night. Go to bed." Rhys strode down the rest of the corridor and out of the ship, heading towards the officer's gym aboard the Star Destroyer without looking back.

She was left unchallenged as she moved through the corridors and down the lifts. It felt distinctly odd, she mused, to be moving through a Star Destroyer, without heading towards the engines, computer core or bridge. For that matter, she couldn't remember the last time she'd been on one without a weapon at her side, and it made her feel uncomfortably exposed. Snap out of it, Rhys, she told herself. You're not here to blow anything up. Besides, you're an engineer - there's always a weapon at hand for anyone with half a brain. She really needed a good workout.

The gym was almost as empty as she'd predicted, and she dropped her towel in one corner before heading to the bars for some acrobatics. The few officers there gave her a brief look, and then went back to their own exercises. As it always did when she gave her body something automatic to do, her mind relaxed, slipped into a narrow focus where all that existed was motion, control, and effort. Tonight it was a little more difficult to keep her mind empty - thoughts of Erinn kept intruding. She finally gave up, and addressed the face looking at her from the back of her eyelids.

You left me, she told the image. You left me, and didn't even let me help you. I don't know what to do, Erinn, and you're not here to help. You're dead, or you will be, in a few hours, and I help you set it up. How am I not supposed to feel guilt over that? How am I supposed to tell our parents? She dropped off of the bars, and moved into calisthenic stretches.

The New Republic will probably give me another medal for it, you know. Right before they court-martial me over Desslok's super-weapon and the scientist I helped him to reach. Not that there was a better solution, but they want to nail somebody for it, and I'm the best target. Never mind that they put me in that situation, never mind that I was supposed to have carte blanche. Never mind that they created what I am now in the first place. I've given them everything I've ever had, and now the best I can hope for is to resign. Anger and grief made her motions choppy, and choppy didn't work very well for calisthenics. She gave it up and went for the weights instead. Her thoughts were running rampant now, and there wasn't really any shutting them off, so she gave them free rein instead.

It's not as if I wouldn't have had to resign anyway, but. . . I'd like to know what else I could have done. As if I'm happy that all those people died, as if I wasn't trying to do everything I could think of to stop it. . . I wasn't supposed to live through that. I was supposed to go down with the ship, take everyone out with me. But then I wouldn't have Kessa and Daran. . . .she paused for a moment as she thought of her twin children. Well over a year old, hardly bothering to walk before they started running, and more energy than she could handle at times. Which brought her to another problem.

What am I supposed to do about Desslok? I don't know how he feels, I don't know how I feel . . . I didn't want to deal with this yet. I know what the Republic would think. . . but then they haven't given me much option, so screw that. He's changed, I can feel that. Dayana insists that he's completely turned from the Dark Side, that he just needs time to heal. How much time - how much time do I need? I just don't know . . . this wasn't working either. She looked speculatively over at the floor mats, and the couple of people practicing hand-to-hand there. Forget this. Let's go see how out of shape I really am. She moved over to the mats, waiting on the sidelines for an opening to join.

Not bad, she thought, as one of the combatants scored solidly on his opponent. The person who had just taken the blow backed off, and waved for a moment to rest. His partner turned to Rhys, and gestured towards the mat with one eyebrow raised in invitation. "You're new here, aren't you? Carn, engineering."

"Rhys. I just arrived."

She gave a brief bow, and joined him rocking lightly back and forth on the soles of her feet. They watched each other for a moment, measuring, and he moved. Oof! she thought, and grinned. This was exactly what she needed. She paused a beat, and then went on the offensive.

***
It was late, there was many things left to attend to, and he should be getting some rest, he thought, but oh bother that, Desslok told himself, you think far too much. Look where it gets you. 'Sith Lord' indeed. It's a wonder your daughter still trusts you - then again, you know where she gets that stubborn streak from, not to mention the notion that she knows what's best, is indispensable. . . sound familiar? There was no one around to observe as he shook his head and grimaced. About the only thing that hadn't happened of late was an appearance by Tailslasher, and Desslok paused a moment to thank whatever part of the universe might be responsible for that. It wasn't much, but at the moment he'd settle for what he could get.

It would be so easy to get caught up in the victory he had just scored, fall right back into the patterns he had always followed. Of course, he thought, he was a brilliant strategist, and he did wield quite a bit of power. Seeing the Light, so to speak, didn't change that. What he did with it was another story, of course.

And there you go again. Enough, he told himself, turning away from the window he had been staring out of. Details Tranith can take care of and all else can wait. You may as well deal with the difficult part of this. It's rather obvious the difficult part doesn't know how to deal with it by herself. He swept up his cape automatically as he left the room.

***
Rhys rocked back on her heels as her opponent scored another blow on her. She wasn't faring too badly, but she was slightly outclassed and she knew it. She fell back a bit, considering his movements. He was bigger than she was, and had a longer reach. He had obviously trained in one martial art, and he was quick on his feet. She was faster though, and lower to the ground, and that meant - there! She moved without thinking, dropping to the floor as he rushed her and aiming a kick to his groin. He twisted, and it landed on his hip instead, pushing him back and off balance. She used the break to roll to her feet.

"You fight dirty" he told her.

"I'll take any advantage I can get against you."

He laughed. "Sounds fair enough- all out, anything goes, then?" His eyes were bright and his grin matched hers.

"You're on," she replied, and flicked a quick jab towards his head.

Desslok stood watching just inside the doorway. No one had noticed him yet, and he was making an effort to keep it that way. He'd seen Rhys in battle, of course, but never hand-to-hand, and despite knowing something of her experience and training, and all she had told him, he found himself surprised by the ferocity of her attack. As he watched, she aimed another of those wicked kicks at her opponent's mid-section. Carn saw it coming in plenty of time to counter it, and delivered a stunning blow to her head, knocking her down. She rolled backwards, shaking her head as she staggered back up, but she still managed to block the next two blows, getting her own shots through. She was taking a lot of punishment to get those hits in, though, and Desslok wondered just how much more of that she could take. It was easy to underestimate her toughness -- she wasn't very big, nor did she look like much of a fighter.

His thoughts were interrupted by another sharp blow to Rhyssa's stomach, and she went down more solidly this time, the wind knocked out of her. Her opponent finished the pin, and leaned over her, a bit concerned. Rhys let him feel helpful for about three more seconds, and then lashed out with one leg, twisting as she did so. She landed on top, still gasping for breath. Her opponent slapped the mat, and they broke apart and bowed to each other.

"Not too shabby," he told her. "You cheated, though."

She managed a breathless chuckle. "Of course I cheated, Carn. Though the school I attended didn't consider that cheating."

"And what school was that?" Carn inquired, willing to go along with the conversation.

"Real life, Carn - anything goes if it works."

He considered that for a moment. "You haven't had much formal training, have you?" Rhys shook her head.

"Very little, and a long time ago. Most of it I've picked up along the way."

Carn grimaced. "I'll tell you what - you teach me that little trick you used a moment ago, and I'll see what I can do to fix some of the gaps in your technique. You're over-extending yourself a bit too often, and that's going to get you nailed sooner or later."

Rhys thought for a moment. "Well," she told him, "I don't know how long I'll be here, but it's a tempting offer. How about tomorrow, an hour earlier?"

"Works for me," he replied. "If we need to move it, let me know - just post a message to the engineering section."

She moved to pick up her towel, and mopped off the back of her neck. "Can do," she told him, "and thanks. I needed a good bout."

"Anytime," he nodded, and jogged back to the showers.

Rhys walked back to the middle of the mat, and dropped into an easy cross-legged position. She felt better than she had in a while. The sparring bout hadn't fixed anything, but it had forced her to center and focus, cut past all the tensions. She took a deep breath, and let it out. As Jared had taught her, she turned her thoughts inward, touching each part of herself, one at a time, and telling it to relax. With concentration and relaxation, came greater awareness. She felt almost at peace, and . . . whether it was Jared's meditation exercise or just combat senses kicking in, she was being watched. She opened her eyes, and found that she was right.

***
Desslok just stood there for a moment, looking down at her. He wasn't really all that sure what to say first, and despite himself, some small part of that must have made it to his expression, because she relented, and looked up at him. "You're hardly dressed for a sparring exercise," she informed him.

Whatever he had expected her to say, this wasn't it, and his eyebrows lifted in inquiry.

"Oh, sit down," she told him. "I'll throw my neck out trying to look up at you, and I'm too tired to get up right now." Nonplused, he did as she had told him, and settled gracefully to the floor. She snorted at him. "You manage to make even sitting cross-legged look elegant."

"There's nothing wrong with that," he pointed out. She just frowned at him, and he looked up at the ceiling while he marshaled his thoughts back into order. The silence stretched out, growing longer and longer.

She finally broke it, reaching out to touch his knee. "Thank you," she said softly. He raised another eyebrow at her. "For stopping for survivors." She removed her hand and started tracing figures on the mat, her eyes following her fingers. "There won't be very many, if there are any at all, but I appreciate what you're trying to do."

He reached out and took her idly tracing fingers in his own. Her eyes met his, and there were, perhaps, fewer barriers there than had been a moment ago. "There is always hope," he told her. "I've had that particular point made to me more often than I care to count - usually by stubborn, hard-headed people who won't take no for an answer. Your sister. . ."

"Is dead," she finished. "There may be hope, but it's the hope that she's bought with her life and her ship. I rigged the gun myself, Desslok, and I know my sister. She wouldn't leave the Alderaan even if it were possible. I don't think she ever would have, but with Atlan dead too . . . No, she's gone." He held firmly to her hand. "And she would have wanted it this way," she finished. "That'll help, someday. Right now, it just hurts."

There wasn't very much he could say to that, and so they just sat there, lost in their own thoughts. He watched her for a while, as her free hand toyed with the end of her braid, noticing the changes that the past two years, and pregnancy, had wrought in her. That braid was a little darker than it had been. Not deep enough to call auburn yet, but not quite so astonishingly and vibrantly red as it had been. Her green eyes had small flecks of red in her irises now, and her skin was even paler, though that could just be a lack of time outdoors. She certainly didn't look as if she had borne twins just over a year ago.

She looked back up to find him still watching her. "That was quite a practice session. You have an impressive bruise on your cheekbone." He brushed one finger along that side of her face. "I'm used to thinking of you as a technical wizard. Nothing you can do with computers or ships surprises me anymore, but this -- I find that this does, despite what you have told me. Perhaps because this side of you is one that I only know because I've been told, not because I've seen. I begin to wonder what else I may have underestimated." He touched the bruise on the side of her face again. "You need to learn to duck, though."

"I'm very, very good at ducking, I'll have you know." She moved her jaw a little gingerly. "Most of the time," she added. "It's the company I've kept, I think. I had to learn to duck, or keep letting Zack dive onto grenades for me, and that gets embarrassing after a while. Besides, you can't slice into a computer core and reprogram it if you can't stay in one piece to get there."

Desslok smiled at that. "That holds true for a lot of things." His smile faded a bit, and his eyes turned serious. "Rhyssa, what do you plan on doing next? For the moment, I'm going to Coruscant, but I don't know what is going to happen after that. I can virtually guarantee I won't be remaining there for long. I'd like to know which way you'll jump next," he finished softly. She looked at him, but didn't answer. "Do you plan on staying with the New Republic?"

Rhys laughed, and Desslok was torn between surprise and satisfaction at the cynicism in her tone. She didn't say anything right away, however. He was tempted to stretch out with the Force, but he knew from past experience that she would know if he did, and she wouldn't be happy about it. A small wave of irritation swept through him at that thought. She could learn quite a bit about the Force if she would let herself, and she stubbornly refused. He pushed the irritation back; that was something to be dealt with in the future. For the moment, he was faced with the present, and that was less certain than he liked.

"No, I won't be serving with the New Republic," Rhys finally responded. She was angry; he didn't have to reach out at all to pick that up. "The New Republic seems to have decided that it cannot deal with what it has created, as far as I go. More specifically, they can't deal with my actions involving you." He hid a wince at that. "Technically, what I did was legal, and I have the paperwork to back me up. The council, however, doesn't see it that way." He opened his mouth to respond, and she cut him off.

"Look, I'm not pointing fingers. You know what you've done, and you have to live with it. I'm responsible for my own actions, thank you very much. But that's part of the problem - I've spent the last few years working on solo missions, and there are more than a few people who don't feel like they can control me anymore. Add my relationship with you into it, and it becomes intolerable. They're right, too, from a political point of view. The ones who have served with me long enough would never doubt my loyalty, but my suitability. . . that's another story."

He waited, fairly sure that she wasn't finished yet. She got up to pace around the mat and continued. "They won't cashier me, and they can't court-martial me, not after I've helped 'save the galaxy' once again. So, I'll resign. They'll give me an honorable discharge, make an inspiring speech, and I'll leave. It's easier for everyone that way, you see. So much for fifteen years of loyalty."

Beneath the anger was a lot of hurt - he could hear it in her voice. He stuffed his own feelings into a small corner and reached out to help her, but for once, Desslok had no idea how he could fix the problem he was faced with. He walked over to stand behind her, and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"No one questions the things you've accomplished for the New Republic, Rhyssa. Nothing can change that, no matter what the future holds." She stayed silent, and after another moment, Desslok spoke again. "Wearing yourself down isn't going to help anything. You need to get some sleep."

Rhys sighed. "I can't. I've tried, but I just can't sleep right now." Desslok couldn't help but smile as he replied, and she heard it in his voice.

"I know something that can help with that," he said.

She turned to face him, and her face was a picture of indecision. "Desslok. . ." her voice trailed off.

"That's not what I meant," he told her, though they both knew that it could have been. "I was thinking of a particular drink. Come on - I promise not to eat you, and this really will help." He shifted the hand that had been on her shoulder and half-propelled her out of the gym and through the door.

Behind them, the door to the shower opened, and Lt. Carn poked his head out. Determining that it was finally safe to come out, he turned off the shower, and slid into his uniform with all the haste he could manage. He stealthily opened the door again. The coast was still clear, and he retreated out the door and down the corridor as quickly as possible without looking ridiculous. He'd feel a lot better once he got back to Engineering and a stiff drink. Perhaps a stiff bottle - he was fairly certain that it would be safest to have never heard that conversation at all, but forgetting it was the next best thing he could think of. It was difficult not to wonder about it, though. It was somehow reassuring to know that his leader had the same problems that anyone else did, when it came to the fairer sex.

Fairer sex, indeed, he thought to himself, thinking of that little maneuver she pulled on the mat. His form was better, but she fought dirtier. I wouldn't want to run across her in a dark alley 'in real life', as she puts it. Even if she is one of the 'fairer sex'. He picked up the pace a little, and cut that thought off before it went any further. Lt. Carn was a very intelligent man, and somehow, he was quite sure that dwelling how attractive he found a woman was a very bad idea when the superior officer interested in that woman was also a powerful Jedi. He really needed that drink.

***
Streaks of light abruptly turned back into stars as the Star Destroyer dropped out of hyperspace. Captain Rhyssa Ke'Sahndhran stood on the bridge, looking out towards her destination. They'd dropped out a few light minutes from the site of the battle to avoid any surprises, and there wasn't anything to see yet. Part of her agonized over what she knew she would see once they arrived, but the rest of her was preoccupied with another matter.

She turned her head to look at the small group gathered around the tactical display, her gaze coming to rest on the tall blond man wearing a cape, and she frowned to herself. Desslok was up to something, she was sure of it. Exactly what, she wasn't positive, but he was definitely trying to arrange things. There wasn't much she could protest, though. He hadn't once pressed too hard or tried to seduce her, even when offering her that bedtime drink a couple of nights ago. Instead, he had been kind, thoughtful, keeping anything more than his support carefully back to give her the space she needed. He was there when she needed to talk, willing to let something go if she balked at it, and courteous in a hundred other small ways that she couldn't entirely put her finger on now that she was trying to.

She was, she concluded, in trouble. He was treating her as if she was a tactical exercise, and she found it - well, not quite offensive, exactly, but . . . she chewed on her lower lip as she turned back to the display. She was prevaricating, and it annoyed her. What it came down to, she decided, was that Desslok was a better tactician than she, and she couldn't be sure of his objective. Aagh! she muttered to herself. Now he's got me thinking the same way. I am not giving into this. If he wants to talk to me, then he can talk to me, and if he wants to know how I feel, then he'll just have to ask, straight out. I'm not doing anything until I know what he wants and how he feels, no matter how kind or considerate or understanding he is. She resisted the urge to add a mental 'so there!' to the end of her thought.

Reality intruded on the thoughts she was distracting herself with as alarms sounded. They had reached the battlefield, and the squadrons of TIE fighters swept in to search the wreckage for survivors. Tranith looked up from his display.

"Lord Desslok, the debris confirms the destruction of the World Devastator. We are still searching for any sign of the Alderaan. TIE squadrons are spreading out the search for any remaining X-wings or escape pods."

Rhys walked slowly over to the display, moving in beside Tranith. The rest of her compatriots were out in the New Hope, helping with the search. Tranith turned to glare at the back of her head, and Desslok's gaze caught his. His expression said clearly what he was thinking, and Tranith's eyes dropped back to the display. There was still no sign at all of the Alderaan, and his expression softened for a moment as he realized what the New Republic officer must be feeling right now.

"She's gone," Rhys murmured. Tranith felt compelled to reassure her, almost against his will.

"That isn't certain, Captain. There isn't any wreckage from the Alderaan at all. She could have continued on to Coruscant."

Rhys looked up at him, and he took a step from the plot at the pain in her eyes. "No, she's dead. There wouldn't be much left to find. The kind of explosion that she triggered when she fired the gun wouldn't leave much of anything." Rhys looked away from Tranith, and Desslok moved closer to her.

"She rammed the ship, and then fired from point blank range," she continued in an almost inaudible tone, "to be sure that she could destroy it in one blow. And it worked. That kind of force can't miss. . . but it hit her ship even harder, because the engines were linked to the gun, and when it fired, all the containment fields failed at once." Rhys' assessment trailed off to an end, and she walked back to where she'd stood before, looking out at the field of stars and destruction before her.

A moment of silence followed her, before the murmur of the bridge crew resumed, and then there was a triumphant voice raised from one of the communication stations.

"Sir, we've found something!"

All attention turned to the communications officer as he patched the chatter from a TIE fighter squadron through over the speakers. The entire bridge paused, listening, as the TIE fighters confirmed the location of a squadron of X-wings, and identified themselves as friendlies. The X-wings were damaged and there weren't many of them, and their relieved voices answered the TIEs with details of their status. Tranith was swept into organizing rescue ships, and Desslok turned to Rhys.

She was still looking out at the ships passing the display, watching them as they assisted the crippled X-wings to a hanger bay. Desslok opened his mouth to call her attention, until she shifted slightly, and he caught a glimpse of her expression. He aborted the report he was about to give her to move forward and meet her instead. Tears streamed down her face as her reserve broke at last, and he moved to shield her from the rest of the bridge. "Carry on, Tranith," he ordered, and then he led Rhyssa off to his office to grieve in private.

***
Relief at finding anyone alive gave way to realization of what that meant. Rhyssa felt the last shred of hope that she'd denied holding rip away, and something inside tore apart as it went. She stared out at the few remaining X-wings, the only ones surviving from either side of the battle, oblivious to anything but the pain. She hardly registered Desslok taking her arm and leading her away, moving woodenly off to his office, and sitting on the couch.

She was surprised to find that her face was wet with tears, and she looked up to apologize. The look of concern, grief, and . . . something else stopped the apology in her throat. To her horror, she found herself sobbing, unable to stop, and Desslok wrapped his arms around her. He didn't say anything, only held her, rocking back and forth, and she finally gave up and let go. Terrible, shuddering sobs wracked her body, and Desslok tightened his arms, pressing her closer. He reached out to her as he hadn't reached out to anyone in years, wrapping his presence around her. Her pain, her sense of complete aloneness hit him like a blow, and in the face of it, he gave up his careful plans and calculations, and opened up his feelings to her. It was all he could do, and as her sobs continued, he found himself praying it was enough.

Rhys had no idea how much time had passed, but something other than her grief finally registered. She felt Desslok stretching out with the Force, telling her that she was not alone, offering what comfort he could, and her sobs turned to something quieter. She finally relaxed, and just lay there, half numb. The part of her that was still aware listened to what he was showing her, and she almost flinched, not wanting to think about the chance for more pain, more loss.

But . . . if he could step forward and take a chance, so could she. Somewhere within her, she found the courage to reach out with her own feelings, meeting his, and she felt his startlement at her ability to do so. She smiled in spite of herself for a moment, and kept her own small ability with the Force open, searching. There was so much pain of his own in there, behind the comfort he was trying to give her. Pulling back enough to look at him, Rhys searched his face, uncertain of what she was looking for.

He held his breath, waiting for her reaction and feeling more exposed than he had in years. She continued to look at him as his world began to dim and his vision grayed. . . and his breath exploded outwards, forcing him to resume breathing. Rhys couldn't help herself. She giggled, and the giggles turned into laughter that she couldn't stop. She gasped for air as he started laughing too, wrapping her arms around her aching sides, and tried to clamp down on the hysterical note she heard in both of them. He recovered first, and she steadfastly refused to look at him, afraid of setting off her own giggles again.

Desslok finally pulled her back against him, and tilted her chin up so he could meet her eyes. "You know," she told him, "we're both quite. . ." whatever she had been going to say fell by the wayside, less important than what he had to say as he met her lips with his own and the rest of the universe vanished.