Author's Note: Just a bit of drabble that came to me while playing swtor this week with all the festiveness and annoying snowballs. Then, it grew into this. Hope you enjoy this brief, holiday one shot. I wrote it in a few hours and edited it once. Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas everyone!

Carrick Station
Havoc Squad

Jorgan stopped and put his hands on his hips, staring up at the holographic tree. His face screwed into a scowl that Fynta was sure had to hurt. "Coruscant is one thing," the Cathar began, "but a Republic spacestation?"

Fynta joined him to look up at the shimmering foliage and patted his arm. "Don't be such a grouch, Life Day only comes once a year. Let the people have their merriment." Jorgan muttered unintelligibly, and the two kept walking. The major really didn't get it, he was grouchier than usual during one of the most festive weeks in the galaxy. If anything, she assumed this would make him nostalgic.

"You know where it came from, right?" Fynta looked up at him as they walked, while Jorgan kept his eyes straight. "The Wookies created it to honor their dead, much the way Mandalorians honor theirs with the Remembrance prayer."

"It was also to celebrate the diversity of their ecosystem," Elara added, though Fynta wasn't sure when the medic had joined them. She looked around. No doubt Cormac wasn't far behind. "It was proof that all manner of life could live in harmony, much the way the Republic believes about her sentient beings."

Fynta nodded, having only a vague memory of that last part. "My family always focused on the lost loved ones aspect."

"That is not surprising, sir, given your culture," Elara commented absently, and Fynta grinned at the woman.

"It's not the tradition I can't stand," Jorgan growled. "It's the hawkers and revelers making it nearly impossible to go anywhere without being solicited." He pulled up short as two female petty officers darted past, giggling, while a male of the same age pursued them with white, fluffy ammunition. "And the synthetic snowballs," Jorgan continued, shaking his head at the retreating forms. "They aren't as easy to wash off a Cathar as other species." Fynta stifled her snicker, biting off the words that she knew would annoy her XO even more. So, she opted to keep her mouth shut for a change, it was a difficult task.

Carrick Station was surprisingly empty today, granted, it was quite early in the morning, or maybe late at night. In any case, the trio had nearly made it to the lift leading down to the cantina, when Aric suddenly lurched forward. A feral snarl tore rumbled in his chest when they stopped to examine what had hit him. It was a synthetic snowball, still sticky as it slid down the Cathar's back to glop onto the floor.

All three looked in the direction of the assault as another one soared through the air to strike Aric in the face. He took a step back, sputtering while he clawed it out of his eyes. Fynta found the culprits a second before Jorgan. "You two better run," she suggested calmly, folding her arms over her chest.

Cormac and Vik stood half hidden behind a wall, shoving the snowball launcher back and forth between them. Jorgan snarled again, and Cormac took a step back. "We were aiming for the boss, honest." The man backed away with his arms up, letting the festive weapon fall to the floor, as Jorgan stalked towards them. "Vik's an ass. He hit my arm when I-"

"Run." Jorgan said the word so quietly, so deadly, that everyone froze for half a heartbeat. Then, the two sergeants turned tail and hauled down the nearly empty corridors of the station. Jorgan wasn't far behind, and the threats he yelled at their backs made the human and Weequay retreat all the faster.

Fynta smirked, while Elara tipped her head to the side. "I don't think I've ever seen Jorgan act like that."

"Yeah," Fynta agreed. "Maybe he'll blow off some steam and come back happier." Then, she backhanded the medic's shoulder. "Well, looks like it's just us girls. Come on, Dorne. I'll buy you a drink.

Cipher Nine

Zolah decided to give the crew a day off. Generally speaking, the Empire didn't openly celebrate Life Day, however, she was currently working for the SIS. Keeping up appearances was important. At the moment, she and Kaliyo were taking a leisurely stroll through the spacestation; her looking for weaknesses that might aid her in the future, while Kaliyo was undoubtedly stealing things. The cipher agent couldn't bring herself to care.

"All these holos, it's like being back on Nar Shaddaa, eh, Agent?" The Rattataki woman took in every booth with pale eyes, her lips pulling into a smile when she saw something she liked. Kaliyo wandered over to a stall selling military spec gloves, looked the items over, then sauntered back to Zolah's side, seemingly unimpressed by what she'd seen.

As soon as the two turned the corner, Kaliyo held out a pair of bantha hide gloves. "Happy Life Day, Agent. Don't say I never gave you anything."

"That is incredibly thoughtful, Kaliyo. What's the catch?" Zolah asked, slipping the supple leather over her fingers.

The Rattataki smirked. "I'll think of something. Just give me time." Zolah had no doubt. Despite their constant tension and bickering, Zolah liked the thug from Hutta. Kaliyo was a solid ally and skilled marksman. Not to mention, creative and vicious. So long as Zolah kept her happy, Kaliyo would remain . . . somewhat loyal.

"Whoa!"

Both women stopped in their tracks to avoid being flattened by two, massive walls of muscle. One human male, and one Weequay. Wherever they were going, Zolah assumed it was an emergency, because neither so much as slowed down to offer an apology. That didn't stop Kaliyo from yelling curses after them, of course.

The Rattataki took one step into the hallway to shout an insult, then was unceremoniously dumped on her backside by an invisible force. She'd no sooner hit the ground, than another man darted past, this one a Cathar. Zolah wondered if he were heading towards the same emergency as the other two, or perhaps, the cause of their haste.

Instead of helping Kaliyo back to her feet, Zolah scanned the room for the cause of the Force push. Red eyes settled on a large Togruta across the room. She didn't wear the traditional garb of a Jedi, settling instead for a short, black vest and leather bracers instead of the standard, flowing robes. However, there was something about the way she carried herself, and the serene expression on her face, that screamed Jedi. The lightsaber on her hip solidified Zolah's hypothesis.

The Togruta female dipped her head in confirmation, then turned slowly to continue on her way. By then, Kaliyo was on her feet and spitting mad. "This is what's wrong with the Republic," the woman complained, wiping dust from her pants. "I mean, Imperials are pretty screwed up too. But can you imagine that happening on Vaiken Station? Someone would end up dead and everyone would understand that it had been for the greater good."

Zolah largely ignored the complaint, instead, wondering if Jedi Knights celebrated this gaudy holiday as well. When no answers became immediately available, Zolah decided to move on. "Come on, Kaliyo. Didn't you promise to steal some equipment for Doctor Lokin?"

Jedi Knight

Kaeto Vaa enjoyed the solace of wandering the spacestation early in the morning with T7. She smiled at the revelers, while taking time to speak with the gift droids about their latest specials. In truth, there really was not much here for the Jedi, as she owned so few personal items, but the ship had become overcrowded, and the constant snark between Kira and Lord Scourge had begun to trouble her.

At first, Kaeto had tried to mediate between the two. When it became abundantly clear that neither were interested in her peacekeeping skills, the Togruta had given up. Kira was no longer a Padawan, after all. The girl could take care of herself. At least out here, Kaeto could immerse herself in the joy that accompanied this ancient holiday.

Forcing her mind away from the tension on the ship, the Jedi thought back to the Chiss woman with whom she'd briefly interacted. The woman had a slight build, but her skin color was lighter than Kaeto was used to seeing. The urge to speak to the girl had been strong, but Kaeto feared her curiosity would come across as probing, instead of friendly. There were not many of her kind in the Republic, and they tended to stand out. Same for her companion, the Rattataki.

SIS, Kaeto thought. She must be. When the Jedi had reached out with the force, she'd felt only anger from the Rattataki, which was to be expected given her predicament, but nothing from the Chiss, indicating her training. Ah well, her role would reveal itself when the time came.

"Come on, get moving. We've got other deliveries you worthless pile of junk."

Curious, Kaeto changed her direction to see what all the commotion was. T7 chirped indignantly when they rounded the corner to see a lethan Twi'lek banging the butt of one of her blasters against the cranium of a C2 droid.

"Yes, mistress. I'll handle it at once," the ship maintenance droid tittered as he hurried back towards the docking bay, presumably where their ship was stationed. Kaeto was just in time to notice that the droid had bulls eyes painted on various parts of its body, and was torn between horror and laughter. T7 had his own opinion of the droid's mistreatment, of course, and voiced it readily.

His angry whistles got the attention of the red skinned Twi'lek, who snapped around and planted her hands on ample hips. "You got a problem, sister?"

Kaeto smiled politely at the woman, wishing her a pleasant Life Day, and carried on with her stroll. While she was here, she might as well pick up some medical supplies for Doc, maybe some candy for Kira, and ammunition for Rusk. T7 still churned at her side, and Kaeto marveled once more at how going centuries without a memory wipe could create such a unique personality in the astromech. So, smiling down at her little, metal companion, Kaeto vowed to treat him no differently than the rest of her crew. "What would you like for Life Day, little one?"

Smuggler

J'ola didn't have time for that damn droid's incompetence today. She'd left her crew aboard the ship after treating them to too much festivity the night before. Corso had never been skilled at holding his liquor, and his advances had been . . . . J'ola cringed. Despite her impatience with the kid, she hoped he didn't remember half the things he'd said to her. Or that she'd laughed.

Risha had excused herself early to plot something. J'ola was sure the space princess would let her in on it whenever the time was relevant, because prying the information out of the woman was damn near impossible. Guss had attempted to levitate the bottle of booze, before giving up and throwing it across the room, claiming he'd done so with his mind. J'ola had told him to levitate himself into the fresher to get a towel.

Bowdaar and Akaavi had at least been interesting. Getting into an argument about their ancestor's triumphs of old. When the two turned to J'ola for confirmation on who was the best killer, the lethan had pointed out that technically, this holiday originated on Kashyyyk, meaning Bowdaar won by default because he was a Wookie. Akaavi had taken the defeat as she always did. By cleaning her weapon while glaring at her cabin mates. Afterward, Bowdaar had regaled them all with his genealogy, right up until everyone fell asleep.

Taking a deep breath, J'ola waited at the top of the lift for C2 to return with the rest of the cargo. She didn't care that she'd just insulted a Jedi. A bunch of pompous, holier than thou people in her opinion. Not that J'ola particularly liked anyone. Well, maybe that wasn't true. She'd grown rather fond of Guss. The worthless Mon Calamari kept life aboard the ship interesting, and he'd do absolutely anything J'ola asked, just to prove he could. He couldn't, of course, but that was half the fun. It was like a game of roulette to see what would happen, and he was totally okay with the crew placing bets on the outcome of his missions.

The lift opened, and her C2-N2 droid toddled out with the remaining cargo. It had been Corso's idea to paint the targets all over it. So far, it had been a month, and the blasted droid still hadn't noticed, leaving J'ola feeling cheated. Maybe one day she'd test out those targets, see just how accurately they'd been placed. For now, she had a job to do.

"We haven't got all day, C2," the Twi'lek grumbled, waving for him to load the hover sled so they could deliver the goods to the cantina. "I've got another delivery to make on the other side of the galaxy."

The droid chittered another apology, steered the sled up the ramp. When his back was turned, J'ola slipped another bottle of whiskey out, tucking it in her jacket. Just in case Corso remembered what he'd said last night.

Bounty Hunter
Vaiken Spacedock

Being able to show her face in Imperial space again was small consolation for what Cinlat saw on the holonews. She and Verin sat in the bar, staring up at the screen along with all the other patrons, while a woman with dark skin and impeccable hair gave the news of a massive ship that had appeared above Ilum. She didn't sound panicked, because Imperials weren't allowed to show fear, one of their few, redeemable traits in Cinlat's book. But there was definitely a note of-concern.

"Can you believe it, Cin?" Verin asked, leaning on the counter beside her. He was too keyed up to sit, and had just downed his fourth Corvani rum. "Gree, above Ilum." He let out a long whistle before cutting his eyes over to her. "What do you say, cyare? Give it a run?"

Cinlat watched the screen, considering the invitation the squid-like creatures offered to the members of the galaxy. That tech would go for a lot, if they could get their hands on it, of course. "Maybe, after we complete this job."

Speaking of the job, that Twi'lek smuggler should have been here by now. Cinlat was going to begin docking her pay if she didn't hurry her red shebs up. "Hey, there she is," Verin said, smacking her arm with the back of his hand.

Cinlat spun around on her stool to greet the woman, who looked more than a little put out. "Get stuck in traffic?" Cinlat asked, raising one, white eyebrow.

"Don't start with me, hunter. Your paycheck depends on my mood, remember?"

Verin tensed even as Cinlat eyed the Wookie at the smuggler's side. This was why Cinlat hated working with a third party. Unfortunately, it couldn't always be helped. Their client wanted the target alive, however, that target had been on Coruscant. The Mantis would be flagged immediately in Republic space. So, she and Verin had been forced to take alternative means of transportation. Which hadn't left room to haul back a carbonite block. That was where J'ola came in. She could pick the target up, and smuggle him into Imperial space, where Cinlat and Verin would take charge of him, and finish out their contract.

"Fine, I'm assuming he's aboard your ship?" Cinlat relented.

"Yep, my customs miracle worker is finishing up your paperwork. Come on, this place gives me the creeps," the smuggler waved for them to follow, while swinging wide hips.

Cinlat slid off the stool to follow, while Verin dropped a few credit chips onto the bar. The lift doors opened to reveal a circular ship, and three crew members standing at the bottom of a ramp with their cargo piled up next to a few crates. "Paperwork is in order," a brunette said as they drew closer.

J'ola nodded, then began scanning the contract. Meanwhile, Cinlat's attention was drawn to the Zabrak and her beskar-like armor. J'ola's indifference to dealing with Mandalorians made more sense now. In recognition of a sister, Cinlat dipped her head to offer the traditional salutation. The woman returned it stiffly, and Cinlat wondered if she had been one of those who'd refused the Mand'alore's call, seeking sanctuary in the Republic.

"Okay, looks good, Risha." J'ola turned back to the hunters and held out a datapad for them to sign. "Thumbprint reader, because I'm cynical," the lethan said.

Cinlat wasted no time removing her glove to press her thumb to the scanner. It was one of the most secure ways to transfer credits, and, if Cinlat should try to back out of the deal, J'ola could blackmail her. The threat of identity theft in a galaxy this large was an ever present danger for anyone who operated on the fringe of the law. It was one thing the two women shared. Only, where J'ola dealt with stuff, she and Verin dealt in people.

"He's all yours, pleasure doing business with you, and a happy Life Day." The Twi'lek waved her hands to her crew to get them aboard, leaving only the Wookie and a creatively painted C2 unit to deal with the crates.

Cinlat stepped closer to examine their target, a simple, human male with no influential political or military ties. Wondering why the shab anyone in the Empire would waste their time with this man. Then, she came to the conclusion that as long as she and Verin were paid, she didn't care.

Dromund Kaas
Sith Inquisitor

Life Day. Such a petty excuse to spend credits and flaunt power. Hal Xun had neither the interest, nor the patience for such a frivolous holiday. At least, not outwardly, and not for the reasons most assumed. The Sith turned from the dreary skyline that made of the Imperial capital to where the bounty hunters were unloading his prize.

"One frozen musician, alive and unharmed as ordered," the female bounty hunter said, dusting her hands together. Lord Xun had used his connections to reach the famed hunter because of her record for taking targets alive. Neither hunter removed their helmets, nor did Xun ask, his own identity concealed by a bio-thermal mask of his own.

Being a cold-blooded Falleen, living on the chilly world of Dromund Kaas, had proven to be a weakness at first. Until Xun had come across a scientist who created a suite that would keep his core temperature regulated. Shortly after, the Sith realized that people naturally feared the mask, and thus, his reputation for being another faceless Sith had been born.

"Very good," Xun commented as he crossed the room to examine the figure. "Your credits have already been transferred, such was my trust that you would not fail me." He delivered the words in a monotone voice, a simple bored tone that he'd learned from Darth Jadus. The very memory of that man's voice still chilled Xun to his core.

"We're professionals," Cinlat Ejnar replied. "We always deliver on a contract."

Xun nodded. "You are dismissed. I shall call upon you again if needed."

The Sith waited in silence, reaching out with the Force until he was sure that they were gone. Then, he began the thawing process of the man in the carbonite. No doubt, he would be traumatized by his kidnapping, but that was of little consequence to Xun, so long as he performed the desired task.

"Father?"

Xun turned to find a smaller version of himself standing in the doorway. Her bright, blue eyes gazed passed him to the now glowing figure. They widened as she gave a strangled squeal, and rushed forward. "Is that really him?"

"It is. He will need twenty-four hours to recover if you wish him to impress your peers," Xun responded, placing a hand on her shoulder. He didn't call the other children her friends. His child was Force sensitive, meaning she would become Sith. She didn't have friends. At best, she would have underlings, at worst, rivals. So, Xun was determined to start her off strong.

She would be eight tomorrow, meaning her training would soon intensify. This singer, the one all the girls of her age fawned over, would perform at her name day party. Xun would set Andronikos and Khem, as guards to ensure they were not interrupted. Talos could keep the festivities on time, and Xalek could patrol the perimeter. Xun had sent Ashara away, fearing her lightness might distract the other Sith.

"I'll be the envy of them all, father," his daughter said, a slight crackling at her fingertips emphasizing her excitement. Her lust for power would make her great someday, as worthy a legacy for him to leave behind as any.

Xun chuckled. "Happy Life Day, my daughter."