A/N: This one ended up being shorter than originally planned, but I'd rather have it shorter than filler. After agonizing over it, I decided to post as is and move on.

The Thunderclap

Cormac stood next to Jorgan in the refreshers, watching the Cathar tug at the collar of his jacket. The unfamiliar material constricted around Cormac's neck and wrists too, and he grumbled.

"I feel you," Jorgan complained, lifting his lip in a silent snarl.

Though Elara thought Balic looked dashing in the dress uniform, he hated it. He didn't want to look dashing; he wanted to look like he could kill a guy using his only his thumbs. The clingy blues didn't convey that image; they fit too tightly in all the wrong places. Balic felt like one of those stuffy lordlings that he used to guard back on Alderaan, the ones who tried too hard. With a sigh, Balic pulled the hem of his jacket lower and sighed when it rode up again.

"Really, you two," Elara fussed from the doorway. "Stop fussing and leave them alone." She crossed the room to slap Jorgan's hand away from the high necked collar and adjusted his new major insignia. Then, she turned her attention to Cormac, clicking her tongue as she smoothed out the wrinkles in his jacket. Balic noticed unspent tears in her eyes when she avoided looking at him. Suddenly, his discomfort didn't seem as important.

"Hey, doll. I think I left one of my cufflinks in our room. Help me look for it?" Elara nodded silently and walked out the door. Jorgan's reflection raised an eyebrow, and Cormac shrugged in response. "Rough day all around, mate."

Cormac found Elara in the medbay. Her perfectly pressed formal uniform glimmered, proudly displaying the medals she had been awarded. For the first time, Balic noticed how snugly the fabric fit. Granted, it had been a while since the two of them had time alone together, a couple of months maybe, but he was pretty sure his wife hadn't always looked so . . . voluptuous.

"Balic," Elara began without turning away from remaking their bed against the far wall. It had looked fine before. Busy work meant that Cormac wasn't going to like whatever his wife had to say. "I think I'm going to accept the offer to retire early."

Elara had never been one to mince words, but her sudden change of heart slammed into Cormac hard enough that he forgot to breathe. Personnel Division had been back on the offensive. While they couldn't revoke Elara's citizenship, they had convinced the new chancellor that she might represent a security risk now that they were unofficially fighting a war on two fronts. Those damn desk jockeys had started hounding her just a month after the Republic signed the treaty with Zakuul. Elara had faced them with noble defiance, stating that she was a proud Republic citizen and would not leave her squad without proper medical care.

Of course, Jorgan had backed her all the way, which hadn't bought him any favors with the guys in charge of Fynta's rescue attempt. Not that it mattered anymore. Today, was the major's funeral.

Elara looked up at Balic when he didn't answer, a single tear sliding down her cheek. It broke his trance. "But why, Elara?" He moved closer to grab her shoulders and turn her towards him. "You can't let them win. I know today is tough, but it's all for show. I bet Fynta will cringe when she sees the circus they've turned her into."

Elara laughed, a sound like most women made when they thought they were being overly emotional. She wiped a pale hand across her cheek, then reached over to the counter and picked up her datapad. "I'm sorry, Balic. I should have told you as soon as I realized." She held out the device. "Things have progressed beyond my control."

Balic must have looked as confused as he felt. Elara's opened medical file filled the screen. His stomach rolled as he scanned the data, terrified that he was going to find that she'd contracted some deadly disease or had found an abnormal growth during her last physical. After a few minutes, he looked at Elara for translation. She stood on her toes, and reached to highlight the part of the file she wanted him to focus on.

The word positive glared up at Cormac. The gnawing fear that Elara was sick returned, until he saw the accompanying maternity beside it. It took a few seconds to sink in. Cormac wasn't even aware that he'd moved a hand to his mouth until Elara touched his raised arm. "I estimate two or three months," she explained, answering the question that he wanted to ask so badly, but couldn't manage.

Cormac wasn't sure how long he stared at those life-altering words, but eventually, he pulled his attention back to his wife. It all made sense now: why she decided to get out. If the Republic retired her now, she would get a pension and could go somewhere safe to have their baby.

Elara, ever the longsuffering physician, waited silently while Cormac worked out all the angles for himself. Of course, she'd already gone through this and come to the same conclusion. This was their best shot.

Balic didn't know what to say. He wrapped an arm around his wife and pulled her close. Setting the datapad on the bed so that both hands were free, he held her tightly. Cormac had wanted to be a dad since he and Elara first tied the knot four years ago. But, now was bad timing, probably the worst. Finally, he took a deep breath and kissed the top of her head. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea, doll."

"I'm sorry, Balic. I'm not sure what happened," Elara whispered into his chest.

Cormac squeezed a little tighter and managed a laugh. "I'm pretty sure I know how it happened, lover." He heard stifled giggles that ended in a half choked sob. "Don't ever apologize, Elara. You're going to be a wonderful mother, and I'll see you as often as I can."

Cormac realized how terrified Elara must be when her body trembled against his, knowing that she'd be forced to face this alone. There were no words to make her feel better, nothing he could promise to ease the passage into the next phase of their lives. The army wouldn't let him get out, not now.

Then, Cormac had another thought, one that twisted his guts and brought to mind more than one curse. How the hell were they going to tell Jorgan?

"Things are falling apart, Balic," Elara whispered finally.

Cormac leaned back to look at his wife. "Come on, why would you say that? This is a miracle, the start of a family." He put his hands on her dainty shoulders and gave them a gentle shake. "We'll get through this, Elara. We always do."

"We lost Cinlat to Revan," Elara answered as if she hadn't heard him. She leaned her forehead against his chest, and Balic closed his eyes to avoid thinking about the famed bounty hunter dying in his arms. "Yuun to the SIS, Verin is gone, then Vik left," Elara continued. Her voice broke at the final name on the list. "And Fynta to the Emperor. Now, I must leave as well."

Cormac refused to give up on Havoc Squad, or the major for that matter. He'd hold this bloody family of his together with sheer willpower if he had to, no matter the distance between them. Tightening his arms around Elara, Balic squeezed his eyes tighter. "It'll all be okay."

"Hello?" A woman called from the airlock, shattering the atmosphere around them.

"Shab, she's early." Cormac wiped Elara's tears with his thumbs, and kissed her forehead before slipping out of the medbay. He shut the door behind him to give Elara some privacy and walked hastily to the hallway where their newest recruit waited. "Up here, Captain."

The woman was younger than Balic expected, making him instantly feel like an old man. She held out a hand when she climbed the stairs, "Ginell Kanner."

Cormac gave the new captain points for not leading with her rank and took her hand with a firm shake. She had wind burnt skin, brown hair cut short, and dark eyes. Every bit the average soldier. Captain Kanner had been assigned as Havoc's new XO. She'd been handpicked by Malcom after threatening to slap Jorgan with a psych discharge if he didn't drop his search for Fynta. The Cathar had been left with the choice of taking the discharge with no benefits, or accepting a subordinate to spy on him.

Cormac wasn't sure how much of that Kanner knew, so he kept things formal. "Welcome aboard the Thunderclap, Captain. I'm Sergeant Balic Cormac."

The door to the medbay opened, and Elara stepped out to snap off a salute. "Lieutenant Elara Dorne, sir. Medical specialist for Havoc Squad."

Kanner didn't bat an eyelash at Elara's accent. "Pleasure to meet you both." She glanced around the ship. "I was told to report to Major Jorgan, is he here?"

Elara sighed, having fully regained her composure. "Indeed, and he's likely undone all the work I did to his jacket." She crossed the room to the refreshers and palmed the door open. "Sir, really now—" No doubt she'd begun to berate the Cathar in an accent already thickened by stress. Cormac couldn't help but grin. This, at least, felt normal.

Kanner scanned Cormac with her eyebrows pulled together. "Sergeant, not to sound dense on my first day, but what's with the fancy duds?"

"They didn't brief you on what you were walking into?" Kanner shook her head, and Cormac's good mood slipped a little. "Might as well fancy yourself up too, Captain. We've got a funeral to attend."

Five Hours After the Publicized
Memorial of Colonel Fynta Wolfe

High Command issued a new mission without regard to Havoc Squad's raw emotions or exhaustion. Jorgan placed the Republic banner and posthumous awards on the bed next to Fynta's helmet and made for the bridge. He survived in a constant state of numbness that came from shutting down his emotions one by one. "We've got seventy-two hours of rest. Use it wisely," he called before heading up the stairs.

Jorgan's heart pounded against his ribs at the weight of what they'd done, how they'd given up. He combated the panic by breaking the next few minutes down into manageable steps. First, put the Thunderclap into hyperspace. Second, retreat to his room to sort himself out.

"Sir?" Kanner stood at the top of the stairs, hands clasped behind her back in a formal rest position. Aric closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. He hadn't had the chance to properly introduce himself, and at the moment, he didn't feel sociable. Unfortunately, that wasn't his choice.

"Captain." Jorgan nodded towards the co-pilot's chair as he settled into his own. "I apologize for the rushed introductions before. We weren't expecting you until later in the afternoon."

Kanner seated herself and began the list of pre-flight checks. "My bad, sir. I arrived ahead of schedule and thought it would be a good idea to get acquainted with my new squad." She scowled at the console. "Had I realized what today was, I would have waited."

Kannar paused, then glanced at Jorgan. "All the same, sir. It was an honor to be allowed to represent Havoc Squad at the colonel's ceremony."

Jorgan appreciated that his new XO avoided the word funeral. Maybe this kid wouldn't be so bad. She'd been nothing but respectful throughout the day, and more subtle than she had to be. He could overlook the fact that she was fresh out of officer school, but trusting her would take time.

"You knew the colonel well, didn't you, sir?" Kanner asked as they raised the Thunderclap into the skylanes, then angled towards the blackness of space.

"I did," Jorgan answered. He didn't want to talk about Fynta, but he couldn't let her be forgotten. So he forced himself to relive her more daring schemes with Cormac, the touching moments with Dorne, and would answer Kanner's questions.

Kanner nodded. "I've read Colonel Wolfe's file and a number of reports written on her. She seemed like quite a woman. I have a sister in the SIS who was able to get me a couple of non-circulated material as well. Was she really like the read?" Jorgan kept his eyes straight, trying to work out whether this was a fishing expedition, or if the woman really found Fynta that interesting. Damn, he'd never been good at this stuff. Finally, Jorgan decided on the truth. He wouldn't hide his wife out of fear of repercussions. He'd crossed that line too long ago to be squeamish now.

"Every word of it," Jorgan answered. "Fynta had a flair for the dramatic, and most of the plans you read about were made on the fly when the original one didn't pan out."

The woman's eyebrows flew up, and she flopped back into her seat as they broke free of the planet's gravitational pull. Jorgan chuckled, something he hadn't done in a while. "Don't worry, you'll have your own stories soon enough. If there is one thing Fynta Wolfe taught me, it's that this galaxy is never what you expect it to be."

Kanner sat in quiet contemplation for some time after they entered hyperspace. Jorgan found that talking to someone who didn't know Fynta was a lot easier than reminiscing with the people who loved her. Although, the familiarity of sharing the bridge made him ache. "Is it true she was Mandalorian?" Kanner asked at last.

Aric nodded. "Also true."

"You were with her from the start, correct?" Jorgan cut his eyes at the new captain, choosing his words carefully in case she decided to dig too deep. Kanner continued as if she didn't notice, "After General Garza's testimony, the Havoc defection was declassified. You were the first new recruit."

Jorgan nodded again, and Kanner puffed all the air through her lips. "It must have been amazing to be friends with a woman like that."

"It was." Aric closed his eyes to gather his thoughts. "I'd love to see her again." Kanner faced him, but Jorgan kept his gaze focused on the viewport and redirected the conversation to safer territory. "Oh, you should know that Cormac and Dorne are married. They sleep in the medbay, so you'll have the barracks to yourself until we start rebuilding."

Kanner straightened in her chair. "I did note the lack of personal effects when I stowed my gear. It'll be nice, I shared a room with fifteen others for the last year. I don't think I'll know what to do with all the privacy."

"Don't get used to it. Command plans to rebuild us as soon as they find the right people." Jorgan decided that he'd shared enough, and a quiet room sounded perfect about now. "Get some rest, Kanner. No telling when we'll be able to again." He paused at the top of the stairs and turned back towards her. "If you want to hear war stories, ask Cormac."

"Yes, sir," Kanner replied, offering a polite smile. Damn, she was young. "Get some rest, sir."

Aric went to his room and shut the door. He locked his knees to avoid sliding to the floor, and let his head rest against the wall instead. If he let himself start falling apart again, he wouldn't be able to stop. The threat of discharge was the only thing that stemmed his manic search. Everyone believed that Fynta was still alive except the Republic Senate. After more than a year of nightmares and emotional exhaustion, he wondered if it would be better if she weren't.

Jorgan knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the only thing that could keep his wife silent for so long was death or imprisonment. He couldn't bear the thought of her alone in a cell for the last year. Aric almost wished they had found her body floating in space along with Marr's ship to quiet the nagging fear. Jorgan took a strained breath and crossed to the bed, suddenly desperate to get out of those blasted dress clothes.

The small, white jewel hooked on one of the collar decorations as Jorgan unbuttoned the jacket. He stared at the necklace that he'd given Fynta years ago. The memory of slipping it around his neck, and her promise to return for it momentarily numbed his senses. Anger as familiar as Fynta's caresses welled inside Aric's chest, and he shoved it down with brute force. Slouching onto the bed, Jorgan picked up her helmet. It felt smooth in his hands despite the dents and dings, and he knew the story behind each. She loved this helmet.

Jorgan sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, thinking back to the previous night's dream. Fynta knelt before him, looking down with anguish in her eyes. In the past, she would apologize or reach for him, but her fingers never made contact. Last night, she had simply stared. Fynta's lips moved, but Jorgan couldn't make out the words. A white haired man materialized behind her with a smile. Fynta's face contorted in hatred when he spoke, but the man's voice failed to pierce the veil.

Jorgan's protective instinct had kicked in, but when he tried to move, the dream flickered. Aric laid motionless while Fynta berated the man. She turned sharply, reacting to a sound that Jorgan couldn't see. Fynta swore, then raised her weapon. Aric woke to the dark ceiling above his bed and a hollow ache in his chest.

Jorgan's only consolation was that Fynta might still be alive. He didn't know what the dreams meant, but he hadn't gotten a full night's sleep in years. Placing the helmet back on the nightstand, Jorgan laid back and closed his eyes. He wanted to dream of Fynta again, but he feared what he might find. The Cathar snorted, they were just dreams. Jorgan's last thought before slipping into sleep was that maybe he should have taken the psych discharge.

Zakuul

Overall, Lana had no quarrel with the people of Zakuul. She'd even go so far as to admit that Emperor Arcann was a brilliant strategist. That modicum of respect for the man's talents wouldn't derail her plans to overthrow him, of course, but it was nice to find herself against a worthy adversary.

Lana and Solish crouched at the gate leading from the swampy wilderness covering the planet to the posh city beyond. Her mottled green robes obscured her form, but it was nothing compared to her Cathar companion. Solish had taken to covering her face again. However, she'd exchanged the feline mask from her younger days for a wrap that covered the lower half of her face along with her hair. The Sith's golden eyes gleamed from within the dark fabric, causing more than one native to give them a wide berth.

"We could simply kill them, you know," Solish drolled. Lana pressed her lips together, allowing silence to answer for her. The Cathar huffed. "You should have brought the Wrath, or perhaps his Knight. I do not like slinking in the shadows."

"Then, let's move," Lana answered. Their window of opportunity had finally arrived as the outer gate opened to allow sanitation droids to dump the last hour's refuse.

Calling on the Force, Lana willed power into her legs, launching herself over the droids rusted domes. Solish followed closely, and both women hit the ground at a run on the other side. The traditional Cathar blade gleamed in Solish's hand, though Lana chose not to ignite her own weapon yet. The saber was a new addition, Lana noted. She decided not to ask the Cathar which of her kind she wrenched it from. There were bigger problems to deal with than a mad Sith's occasional crimes against her own species.

"The junction is up here," Lana called over her shoulder a second before Solish hissed and sent her sprawling with an invisible shove. Had she been less skilled, Lana would have landed face down in sewage. However, she managed to regain her footing in time to flatten herself against the wall.

Growing up Sith meant that Lana's first thought was to guard her back against possible attack. She quickly dismissed that line of reasoning when Solish melted into the shadows at her side. "I heard something. This way," a woman's voice whispered along the tunnels. Lana shared a look with Solish and unclipped the lightsaber from her belt. They had a job to do, collateral damage was all a part of war.

"Hold on," a male replied, his voice deep and wary. "No one should be down here."

The water rippled as the group drew closer. Lana steadied her breathing, then counted down for Solish. The Cathar lifted her saber, eyes glowing with excitement. On Lana's signal, both Sith spun into the corridor to instant blaster fire. The speed of their attack meant that these weren't beggars, but skilled soldiers. Her intel had been wrong about patrols not frequenting the lower tunnels. No matter, they would cut through them all the same.

Lana deflected the bolts, advancing on the soldiers until she could see their eyes in the dim glow of her lightsaber. Eyes, not helmets. It all happened in the space of a heartbeat: Lana took in the heavy leather clothing, outdated military weapons, and exposed skin. They were the resistance. "Solish, stop!"

Extending her arm so quickly that the joint in her elbow popped, Lana wrapped Solish's blade in a protective layer of air before it could sever its victim in half. The Cathar snarled, sending a murderous glare in Lana's direction.

"Hold your fire!" The man ordered. He had dark skin, wild black hair, and suspicious eyes that couldn't mask the kindness within. He and Lana measured one another over their weapons, both refusing to blink first. Slowly, the torches attached to their rifles flipped on to reveal a group of roughly a dozen men and women. "Not from around here?"

The question almost made Lana laugh. "No," she answered, cutting straight to the point. "You're a part of the resistance, yes?"

A large shadow snorted in the background. "We are the resistance."

"Shut it, Lem," the man ordered over his shoulder, clearly holding rank amongst the ragtag crew. He pulled his attention back to Lana. "What are you doing here?"

"I want to string Arcann's entrails across the Spire," Solish answered, her inhuman voice purring as she painted the grotesque mental image.

The man squinted towards Solish, no doubt focusing on her eyes and marking her for what she was. An alien and a predator. Finally, he shrugged and slung his rifle over his shoulder. With hand extended towards Lana in friendship, the man continued. "Sounds good to me. The name's Koth Vortena."