Superbad

"There's no cure for being a cunt."

13 BBY – Lorrd

Trilla had, or at least hoped that she had relinquished all of the nasty and horrible thoughts that had run through her mind when she had been the Second Sister. She felt that final purge when she embraced Cal Kestis on Ziost, and subsequentially when she and Cere had finally made up. Dismembering everyone who had pissed her off had been an old pastime that she had now grown beyond.

Ripping Ahsoka Tano's horns from her head seemed to be immune to all that.

When the bitch of a togruta charged at her with her blazing white beams, Trilla had fazed forward so quickly that her shoulder winded her possible assailant, and the downward swing of her yellow blade was halted by an X-guard. Years of pent up animosity directed her way exploded, and Trilla felt herself become that Inquisitor hunting Jedi again…and Tano was her prey.

Ahsoka pushed off from below but was grabbed by Xur from behind. "Hey! Stop!"

"Stop?!" she gasped in confusion, freeing herself and charging Trilla's way again. This time the togruta was extremely quick on her feet, making Trilla utilize all of her expert Form II techniques to keep her leverage against Ahsoka's intense Form IV assault. Her acrobatics were near second to none, but she had virtually no power behind her swings, and Trilla was used to far stronger opponents by now.

And Trilla was always the fastest person in the room.

"Why am I not surprised?" Trilla growled in the midst of their saber lock, Ahsoka's teeth grit in a conscious effort to actively engage her. Flipping back, the Force push she unleashed sent the togruta tumbling over and back onto her feet. "Is this where you've been hiding all along?" she spat, igniting the second blade on her circular hilt. "Skulking in the dark like the pathetic bitch that you are?"

"You're going to pay for all the Jedi you've killed," Ahsoka swore, twirling her blades.

"I'm surprised it took you this long to come out," Trilla goaded. "You were never any good at keeping to yourself."

"Like you would know anything about me!"

"HEY!" Xur bellowed, grabbing their attention in a snap. "Both of you knock it off, right now!"

Ahsoka's ice-blue eyes widened, and Trilla found it hard not to take the chance to beat her to death then and there. "Both of you?! This is the Second Sister!"

"No, Ahsoka, she's not. The Second Sister is dead," Xur corrected, and then turned to Trilla. "Take off your mask."

Like hell.

Trilla stepped forward in a confrontational manner, but that was when Xur became deadly serious. "Take off…your fucking mask."

Not once had he been this firm, and it only infuriated Trilla more with the fact that it came with Ahsoka's appearance. What did she mean to him? Why does she get special treatment compared to all the others they run into?

Why is he with her at all?

"I thought you were in need of help," Trilla nigh snarled. "Imagine my initial thoughts when I see you here with her, alone. Better yet, you refused to check in at your promised interval. So now tell me, Eon," and it was her turn to be deadly serious. "Why should I do a thing you say?"

"Dammit, Trilla, we're not going over this again," Xur stepped forward, but that was when Ahsoka put the pieces together, and her look of horror solidified.

"Y-you're…the Second Sister…you're Trilla?" she stammered, and Trilla grumbled in frustration, unhinging her helmet.

"In the fucking flesh," she confirmed, tossing it aside and marching towards Xur, stopping just before her forehead collided into his own. "You've got some thorough explaining to do to get yourself out of this shit-heap," and then pointed to Ahsoka. "If I ever see her with you again, I will personally space you out my fucking airlock."

Trilla expected him to back down, but she had never been more wrong in her entire existence.

"Grow up, Trilla," he demanded. "After everything we've been through…you honestly believe I would do this to you?"

"After everything I've been through, I've known to never expect perfect bliss to last forever," she stubbornly retorted, and then stomped off…feeling her heart wrench in the process, but she was far too angry to care. "Perhaps I'll just leave you here with her, since that's what you've always wanted isn't it?!"

His frustration was present, but his own emotional outbreak was starting to get to him. "Trilla, you know that's not true."

"Do I?" she felt tears well up under her eyes, the weight of her dormant insecurity crashing down upon her with an overwhelming and brutally crushing force. "How do I know this is not the first time?"
"I didn't even know she was alive!"

"Liar!" she shouted, her tears smudging her makeup as she shook with rage. "That's what you are…that's what you've always been. All you've ever done is lie to me! You never stopped pretending to be at my side…you just adopted a new disguise…a Xur Eon who loved me instead of her!"

"I have never lied to you," he promised, his own tears beginning to appear. "Never! For fuck sake Trilla, I love you! I don't know what more proof you need!"

"Stay away from me," she growled, something within her mind overriding all logic, continuously playing every time Xur had ever been dishonest, every time she imagined him with this woman she loathed so intensely.

She hated her…and she wanted to hate him for it.

"Trilla please…" he begged, which he never did. Trilla gave it an honest effort, looking into his eyes with infinite malice, trying to regain that intense hatred she once bore, but there was no root to take hold. All possible niches for her to utilize were long buried and covered up, and her undying rage for Ahsoka could not, under any circumstances stay with Xur for long.

Then her wrist-comm beeped.

With a warning gaze upon Xur, she answered it. "Rava?"

"Trilla…Katara is wailing uncontrollably," the VI reported, and Trilla's eyes widened. "She appears to be absolutely terrified of something I cannot identify."

It was only then that Trilla had realized what she had done. She'd let her rage get the better of her…and nearly severed the most beautiful thing she'd ever experienced because of it…all due to her continued and embarrassing insecurity, one that stemmed long before she had ever donned that mask for the first time.

Since she had first learned of the togruta on Ossus…and it was terrifying her daughter through their bond in the Force.

"I-I'll be over in a moment," she stammered, her rage dissipating as she severed the link. It was hard, but she swallowed her pride. "I…I've done it again, haven't I? Six years…have I truly not changed at all?"

"Of course you have, Trilla," Xur insisted, trying to take her hand, only to see her pull away.

"You promised me you never lied," she warned.

"I'm not lying," he promised, and his look was hard, sincere and unbreaking. "We all have our moments."

Ahsoka dared to step forward, but the fierce look she gave her halted her in her tracks. "Trilla, look. I honestly thought both of you were dead as of a day ago. I'm not a liar. You know this."

Trilla couldn't refute that. It was one of the traits she hated so much about her; the obligation to continuous righteousness regardless of the situation…but it was also the one that made it impossible for her to slip a lie by Trilla's awareness. She was too…good to do it, and Ahsoka wouldn't be able to keep an affair with her boyfriend to herself for long, not if she knew it was a blatantly sinful act.

All on top of the fact that Ahsoka swung first, meaning she was certain that Trilla truly was the Inquisitor she used to be.

The embarrassment weighed down upon her, and as the strain mounted, she looked away. "I need to check on my daughter."

"Trilla…" Xur grasped her shoulder, and she stopped, gulping heavily as she called her helmet back into her hand.

"Xur…I need…I need some time, please," she shook him off, reapplying her helmet and marching into the snow.

Xur sighed as she left him, and he felt Ahsoka approach from behind. "I'm…I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-."

"It's not your fault," Xur insisted. "This is something she and I have to settle…I'm just sorry you had to be the center of it."

Ahsoka shrugged. "Well, I'm used to drama when you're around."

Xur popped his brow. "Yeah…I'm still pretty bad at this feelings stuff."

"That's okay…so am I," she admitted, and Xur detected a faint regret arouse within her, until something yanked it off her mind. "Did she say you two have a daughter?"

The zabrak nodded, and Ahsoka's eyes went starry.

"Can I please see?"


13 BBY – Coruscant

Vigan'era'hrorra was all the rage in Imperial High Command after her little demonstration, becoming almost a celebrity of sorts that inspired confidence in hearts to which it had been fleeting. Anyone who was anyone wanted to have a word with her, but Thrawn was smart to keep her at a distance, as truthfully, the Empire did not want news of her to get out, at least not yet. Utilizing surprise was a valuable tool, especially when the enemy was convinced they were winning.

Agent Markov was taking the brunt of the work, however, as since Nerah could not properly understand and read Basic as of yet, all of the logistics and paperwork fell to her. Still, the chiss had at least the decency to watch her as she did so. The blank stare she usually gave made Markov sometimes forget what she was, and she worried about the false sense of security she had around the super solider…especially if Nerah ever decided she didn't like her anymore.

But Nerah never struck her as someone who really enjoyed the killing she partook in. She found it far more likely that the chiss saw it as either her way of life or a vocational art form. Markov didn't want to assume every chiss had a fascination of art, but the only two she'd ever met adopted that assumption, and she was at least glad that the woman beside her didn't smile and grin when she shattered bones.

While Markov continued to fill out her datapad, Nerah shifted, looking down towards the back of her belt where her twin RK-3 blaster pistols were holstered safely.

"Blasters…" Nerah pointed. "Bad place."

Pulled from her current thought process and efforts to finish her logistical tasks, Markov couldn't understand what she meant. "You can speak Cheunh if you want, Nerah."

"No…" she shook her head. "Practice…I say…blasters…not good place."

She mulled her words, and finally turned to face her. "You're trying to say that my blasters aren't in a good place."

Nerah nodded, and then pointed to her sleeve. "Better here."

"Like a holdout?" Markov figured, looking down to her sleeve. "They're too big."

She also didn't like holdout blasters much, as they sincerely lacked in stopping power most of the time, unless at close range, and she didn't always have that luxury. The RK-3 blaster was useful at virtually any reasonable distance, and she needed that versatility to adapt quickly to turbulent situations, which came with being an ISB Agent.

Nerah executed a nimble sleight of hand motion that almost made her personal holdout blaster appear from thin air. "Fast…better. Strong, okay."

"Speed is better than strength, you say?" she pieced together.

"Yes…speed. Don't see you coming. Any big enemy…" she gestured in a precise fashion. "One shot…fall. Not ready."

Markov smirked. "Well, in terms of speed you about double my own."

Nerah cocked her head in wonder. "Double?"

"Yes…" she realized she'd never had to explain the concept before. "Two of something."

"Hm…my speed…two of you," she put together, and then swiftly stowed her blaster away again. "Um…k'ir nah bob ch'ahn, ch'acevi."

Don't doubt yourself, friend.

Markov wasn't expecting that, and when Nerah smiled her way, she bowed her head. "Thank you, Nerah. The word is doubt."

"Doubt," she recited in her heavy accent. "Feel bad about?"

"Yes," she confirmed, turning back to her datapad, and then realizing she had paused on a question she did not know the answer to. "How old are you, again?"

Nerah gave her a blank stare.

"Veo ch'ahe'i."

Her crimson gaze snapped with recognition, and then looked towards the floor in thought. "…sixteen?"

Markov thought she was kidding, but Nerah didn't exactly have a very good sense of humor. "Bav'rar?"

She nodded. "One and six."

It took a moment for Markov to realize she was making a stupid face.

You're shitting me.

"Chiss adults…ten," she reminded her, and that's when it suddenly made a lot more sense. Chiss aged to adulthood at a staggering rate, which was why Nerah appeared to be in her early-mid-twenties while in reality she was almost ten years junior to that. It was difficult to wrap her head around that, and part of her felt bad that her childhood was essentially stolen from her.

"How long have you trained?" she dared to ask.

"Since…pull trigger."

"Since you could pull a trigger."

Nerah nodded. "Could…yes."

From what Markov could surmise, Nerah had been quite literally born for this, and she was sure as hell glad the chiss considered her a friend.

Her commlink chimed, and Nerah looked on in curiosity as she answered it. "Agent Markov."

"Agent…if you will," Thrawn's voice sounded on the other end. "Bring Nerah to my office."

"Copy that, sir. Two minutes."

"Thank you."


13 BBY – Fury

The Fury had made Ahsoka's Shadowbolt seem like a rinky-dink freighter with its extravagance and technological advancement, and also partly jealous. She would almost feel inclined to never settle down anywhere, and just call this ship home while traveling the galaxy…although it was a little too comfy for her taste. A reality check here and there would be nice to remind her that she wasn't out in the open, enjoying the sights.

Although there were plenty of reminders that she was less than welcome aboard.

While she paced through the ship, admiring its design, she noticed a spherical droid roll up to her. Its design made her smile, falling to one knee. "Hello there," she greeted.

"Hello," it replied in perfect Basic, catching her off guard. "Yes, I can talk. Don't ask. My name is Rava, and no, I am not a droid."

Ahsoka rose to her full height once she realized they were not so cuddly, and then found that this Rava had already checked off most of her initial questions…which meant introductions were in order.

"I'm Ahsoka."

"Yes, I know this," Rava sighed via her vocabulator. "My incel of an organic overlord Xur Eon has requested me to inform you that you may stay as long as you like."

Ahsoka chuckled at her petty insult.

"However, personally I believe my more preferable overlord may not agree with this standpoint," she stated flatly. "I recommend that you mend this divide as quickly as possible, so as to ensure your stay will not be brief."

The togruta cleared her throat. "Okay slow down. Since when do droids have personal beliefs?"

Rava grumbled. "Must all of you not listen? I am a virtual intelligence construct, not a droid."

"Right, right," Ahsoka held her hands defensively. "Sorry."

Grumpy little bowling ball.

"Apology accepted," Rava tipped her domed head. "Now, where was I? Yes, as I said, I recommend you speak to Trilla sooner rather than later, especially now that she is with her daughter, Katara."

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes in confusion. "And why does that make a difference?"

Rava rolled slightly closer and lowered her vocabulator volume. "Because she will have incentive not to be cross with you."

That idea was slightly appalling, and if Trilla knew she had only spoken to her for that reason, she'd just want to rip her in half again…and after what Xur had told her…the last thing she wanted to do was give Trilla any excess grief.

She'd seemed to suffer enough of that at the hands of the Empire.

Yet the idea of earning Trilla's trust was not only a good one, but probably smart in the long run. If Trilla was going to be around Xur as permanently as it seemed, then she'd have to speak to her sooner rather than later. She had no personal animosity towards her, not after what she'd been told, not even with the knowledge that she used to be the Second Sister, and not even the fact that she had killed her inside agent within the Inquisitorious, inadvertently or not.

Ahsoka didn't hate anyone anyhow.

"Alright…Rava," she remembered. "I'll take your advice."

Rava tipped her head to one side. "Try not to talk about her past," she suggested, and then rolled away, leaving Ahsoka to watch her go.

Also known as try not to address the stinking feces pile in the room.

She had to try. At least.

Ahsoka found Trilla in a portside room, holding her daughter with a slight sway with her stance. Katara was not in tears any longer, and only emitting tiny pouts here and there.

"Mommy's very sorry she got mad," she whispered to her. "She doesn't like to hear her baby girl cry."

Ahsoka looked on with caution, unsure if Trilla had spotted her, but she couldn't help but admire the scene.

"Is there a reason you're here?" Trilla asked with a slight edge to her tone. "Or are you just here to bother me?"

Don't talk about her past.

The togruta probed her options, and then latched on to the only thing that seemed to make Trilla happy.

"How old is she?" Ahsoka asked, to which Trilla did not look her way.

"I'd like to be alone with my daughter," she slightly growled, and Katara began to pout louder almost on cue.

"Xur told me her name is Katara," Ahsoka pressed, cautiously stepping forward. "That's a beautiful name."

Trilla looked away, seemingly searching for a reason to stay angry, but she'd trapped her in a vice, just as Rava suggested. "Thank you," she eventually said. "She's almost two months old."

Ahsoka probed closer, and almost immediately she could feel the Force surging from the infant, her connection already strong for her age. It radiated heavy energy, and just from what she could sense, Katara seemed to be blessed with incredible potential, certainly a compliment to her parents.

"Oh…she's gorgeous," Ahsoka gleamed, the adorableness of the infant grasping ahold of her heart and dragging her in. Katara's eyes seemed to lock on her…and she smiled.

Trilla giggled. "She likes you, I guess."

The togruta leaned in. "Hi…"

Katara reached up and laughed, and Ahsoka could sense the joy rise within Trilla at her daughter's own…enough to gesture towards the togruta. "Would you like to?"

Hold a baby? Hell yes!

"Can I?" Ahsoka asked in confirmation, and Trilla handed Katara to her, to which Ahsoka gently learned how to properly hold a child then and there. "Hello Katara…I'm Ahsoka."

Katara laughed again.

"She can sense your heart…" Trilla revealed, and Ahsoka looked up, spotting her someone regretful gaze. "She knows you're a good person…it's just a shame it took me this long."

Ahsoka sighed. "Trilla…"

"Don't tell me it's alright, because it isn't," she stopped her, and then grimaced, pausing before continuing her thought. "I've done many terrible things in my life, and I know I'm about as imperfect as it gets. I just…I see him with you and I just think-."

"He loves you, Trilla," Ahsoka assured. "More than anything. All he wanted to do was tell me about you…and I'm sorry things happened the way they did. I was the hasty one who swung first, after all. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me."

Trilla sighed. "I told myself I'd be rid of all my dark thoughts…all my jealousy, hate, anger…all it's ever brought me is pain and regret…and that isn't who I am."

"I know, Trilla. I've seen it here, and I can tell that you have a special bond with your daughter," Ahsoka eased. "After all you have overcome…you deserve this gift."

Trilla looked slightly embarrassed, but smiled, nonetheless. "Thank you, Ahsoka."

"And nobody's perfect…except maybe for this little one," Ahsoka cooed, and they both chuckled.

She was glad she did this.


13 BBY – Onderon

Kill everyone who is not a Separatist.

Those orders, unfortunately, would've compelled Wraith to cleanse the galaxy of all living beings in this day and age of the Galactic Empire. He probably could've pulled it off, in honesty, with a few bumps along the road, as he imagined microscopic organisms might be just slightly out of his league…or care for that matter. Caring wasn't something he was taught, actually. That came with constant, slow-burn experience over time, and it took a lot of dead clones to teach him that lesson. The Separatists formed him into a monster, and he didn't hate them for it, but he didn't exactly have fond memories of the old days.

All the Separatists were dead anyway.

Grievous, Dooku, hell the entire Confederacy of Independent Systems had been wiped from the face of the galaxy, and it was all thanks to those stuffed tunics and men dressed in white armor.

With no clones to kill and no CIS to give him orders, Wraith had felt a little aimless for a while, suffering from various random tirades that continued to ravage his broken psyche. Learning that his…well, former muse had been killed in a venator crash on a barren moon didn't help much either. Solace came from one-man raids of Imperial outposts here and there. They were small, sure, but they kept him distracted, and at least gave the Empire a gory mess to clean up.

That was until Ahsoka Tano came back from the dead.

He wiped the sweat from his eyes as bugs buzzed around him, trying to forget it. Distraction wouldn't do him any favors now, not with the rest of his tiny band of gunmen who were almost as angry as he was…almost.

"They're coming," one of them noted, and Wraith peeked from behind his cover at the convoy approaching, their forward lights almost blinding him in the night. Slouching back into his position, Wraith packed in the last shell to his modified slugthrower and slid over his less-than-ideal helmet he'd stuck with. The old one he loved so much was long destroyed, and with no CIS funding to back him up, he'd have to make do.

"Prep the launcher," he directed, pointing to one of his men on the far right. "I want that speeder flipped."

"You got it, boss."

Boss…heh.

As soon as the forward headlights became bright enough, and Wraith's HUD confirmed the distance, he closed his fist.

The rocket screamed through the air, and in the blink of an eye the cargo speeder was on its side, and the ensuing blast vaporized the closest escort speeder. Thrown into chaos, the convoy leaders screamed orders too late as Wraith and his men charged, his slugthrower bellowing with each blast as it tore through duraplast in a gory mess. The closest victim was only staggered by his longer ranged shot, prompting Wraith to go on the melee offensive, blasting the trooper's arm free before grabbing ahold and batting him to the ground with it. In a one-handed underarm move, he pulled the trigger towards the trooper beside him, and he was graced with an instant death, just as Wraith's fellow men caught up.

The troop carrier opened, and out poured a squad of scout troopers with one orange shoulder. Wiping the blood from his visor, Wraith charged then squad on his own, shredding the closest to pieces with a slug blast before hop-stepping out of the way of the first stun stick swing. Catching his assailant's arm, he used his fist to beat upon his skull, before snapping the neck of his dazed victim.

Fire raged upon his back as a stun stick hit home, but Wraith remained conscious as he roared, batting him down with a backhand before crushing his skull underfoot as his helmet rolled off.

The rest of the scout troopers were less inclined to rush in.

"Who is this guy?" one of them gasped.

Wraith cracked his knuckles. "The man sparing you from having to report failure to your superiors."

His next step was met with trembling backpedals, and that's when he smelled blood in the water. Advancing quickly, he stopped one swing with his armored gauntlet before sweeping out his legs, ducking under a behind swing from another and letting his slugthrower loose upon his downed victim. Taking his stun stick with a roll, Wraith deflected the second swing and retaliated, his own swing plenty powerful to knock the stick clean from his grip. Beginning his dual wield assault, he one handed his slugthrower despite the kickback, the shells splintering their duraplast armor and eliciting pained screams from each shot, whist letting the charged weapon beat down others with his raw, incredible power.

Once the orange shoulder was all that remained, Wraith tossed the stick aside and held the thrower at the ready, waiting for the now lone trooper to make the first move.

"Y-you killed them all?!" he gasped.

Wraith looked around, checking each of the torn bodies, and found no one was moving. He shrugged. "Yup."

One of his men came from behind, sniffing his nostrils clean as he threw his rifle over his shoulder. "You got this one, Boss?"

Wraith flicked his head. "Get us the cargo and take it back to base."

He grinned as he turned back to the flipped speeder. "Drinks are on me."

"About time," Wraith remarked, fed up with expunging his own credits. "Now…" he pulled the lever on his slugthrower. "Unfortunately, we're not allowed to leave witnesses…so…"

"Agh…I knew it would end like this," he panicked.

Wraith scoffed. "No you didn't," before pulling the trigger.

It was good to be back.


13 BBY – Coruscant

"You will have to familiarize yourself with Basic at a fast pace, I'm afraid," Thrawn warned in Cheunh, as to save time. "But the good news is you have been approved to work under my command."

Nerah preferred that, especially over these strangely skinned aliens who she could never understand. She noticed a few times her less-strange aide Markov flash dirty or stunned looks towards the Tarkin fellow and white mustache, and she had looked slightly terrified of the machine man…which meant Nerah could assume they were saying things derogatory about her, which she was warned to expect. Thrawn had already recounted what he had to deal with just becoming a Commodore, but he couldn't hit as hard as she could.

No one could.

Nerah slightly bowed her head to Thrawn as a sign of respect, and then responded in Cheunh. "I'm anxious to fulfill your orders, Commodore."

"Excellent," Thrawn granted her one of his rare, small smiles, and then turned to Markov, speaking that strange language. "You have also…to work…" Nerah grimaced slightly in frustration as her translation failed, cursing to herself for not getting a grip on it faster. Sentence construction was so needlessly complex in Basic, not at all like the flowing outline that Cheunh had. Sure, it had excess apostrophes, but that was what made it easy. Most things were phonetic, but in Basic, almost every word had its own rule.

"Fuck," she mumbled the curse in Cheunh, but not low enough for her comrades to miss it. Clearing her throat, she responded in Basic, "Sorry…understand…difficult."

That is definitely not right.

Thrawn corrected her. "Sorry, this is difficult to understand."

Always those blasted linking words.

"Sorry, Commodore…this is difficult to understand…" and then she couldn't remember how to refer to herself. "Me."

"For me," Markov corrected.

Fucking hell.

"Why can't these cunts just suck it up?" Nerah growled in Cheunh, frustrated. "So what if I can't speak Basic? I can kill fifty men from two hundred yards with a-."

"Vigan'era'hrorra," Thrawn interrupted with a cold warning in the same language. "If you do not assimilate to their customs, they will not care, and needless outbursts in a foreign language will not be tolerated…by anyone."

Nerah realized too late that she had lost her temper, despite how well-founded it felt, but she knew she had to be better than that. She'd been trained to be more mature than most of her peers, as well as the fact that chiss customs expected it of her around the time she turned twelve…but there's no cure for being a teenager, and being able to bench press well above her own weight made her instructors less inclined to discipline her.

Clasping her hands behind her back, she tipped her head. "Understand, Commodore."

"Understood," he corrected.

"Understood."

She was going to get an ulcer from this.


The Praetorian was an Arquitens-Class command cruiser, locked in drydock in Coruscant's upper level. Newly constructed recently, it had spent some time in its compartment, as no commander had been lined up to take it for some time…but with Commodore Thrawn's newest promotion, the Empire had at last found an excuse to clear it away.

Markov appreciated that Yularen and Tarkin had come together to form a joint operation, even with the silent animosity she held towards the latter for his "investigation". Being looked at like a traitor for only a day did plenty to sully her confidence, and she had to put up with it for well over three weeks. Still, professionalism should always dictate a situation, and she was glad it had.

Watching Nerah explode as she had was very unexpected. The girl in human terms, but woman in chiss, had proven to be stoic upon first glance, but as the super soldier learned more Basic terms, she was beginning to realize the truth behind her personality. Under her guise was a fiery, foul-mouthed teenager who may have insubordination problems down the road, and that was a thing the Empire snuffed out rather quickly.

Not like anyone could really reprimand her properly…perhaps Thrawn, but he was only a Commodore. Markov worried for the things the Empire could do to her should she get out of hand and working as an ISB officer had afforded her glances of how the Empire handles interrogations. Thrawn didn't strike her as harsh…cold maybe, but he only seemed to criticize speech if it was unfounded and baseless. He was more welcome to the thoughts and ideas of his supplemental officers, and Nerah was certainly smart, there was no doubt about that.

If Nerah stayed working under Thrawn, Markov imagined they wouldn't have many issues.

Her assessment immediately changed once she, Thrawn and Nerah arrived at the boarding tube…finding Lord Vader waiting there for them, an Imperial Inquisitor at his side.

"Lord Vader," Thrawn bowed, and Markov followed suit, while Nerah eventually got the message. "Is there something you wish to discuss?"

"Indeed," he rumbled, and then beckoned the shorter Inquisitor than average. "I am assigning the Fourth Sister to your ship. She will serve as my attaché to your special operations unit."

Markov knew this was not a request, even if she was slightly wary of "Force-wielders", as they were called. The only one she had ever had the…pleasure…of working with was the former Second Sister, but that was three years ago. Inquisitors operated without much regard for civilian casualties, a flaw Markov did not particularly enjoy, and their barbaric practices could be frightening, as well as intensely maddening at times.

Thrawn eyed the Fourth Sister for a moment, and Markov could not deduct what was going through his mind…but she could only guess it was some over-analytical approach to a simple answer…which was,

"As you wish, my lord," Thrawn accepted. "She will join us as we depart for Onderon."

Markov mentally scoffed. Of course. Onderon was perhaps the most turbulent hotbed for insurgent activity, and what better place to let Nerah loose?

Vader turned to his lackey. "I will expect regular reports on your happenings."

Typical. High and mighty Imperial officers never bothered to hide the fact that they were spying on each other.

"Yes, Lord Vader," the Inquisitor bowed, and with no second regard, Vader paced off to engage with whatever atrocity he was set to commit next.

"It appears you will have to add one more to our logistical field list," Thrawn prompted Markov, to which she was already on it. Punctuality was her strength.

"Hello, my name Nerah," the chiss greeted their new crew member with an outstretched hand. The Inquisitor regarded it momentarily with their simple mask, but eventually shook.

"My name is Nerah," Markov corrected.

The chiss gave her an admonishing look, and the ISB agent grimaced, even if she was only trying to do her job.

"You may call me Sister," Fourth Sister replied, and then tipped her head before Thrawn. "I have been instructed to report to you, Commodore."

"Excellent," Thrawn regarded. "Let us board our vessel, so that we may get underway."


13 BBY – Fury

"How goes the investigation?"

It was difficult not to show his distress in his expression, but Xur knew trying was pointless anyhow. Vorchenko had never been one to let subtle cues fly beneath her view, and her intent expression only enhanced that claim through her hologram projected in his hand.

"I can send you what I have…but we've had a…development. I've been sidetracked," he admitted.

"What kind of development?" she asked, with more of a curious tone instead of disappointment.

Xur knew their connection was secure, but he wagered for a moment. He trusted Vorchenko with his life, in fact he'd offer more if he could, but he wasn't sure the risk was worth it. Then again, she was coordinating virtually everything while he was on leave, and to not grant her valuable intel almost felt like a betrayal.

He sighed, bringing his voice down. "Ahsoka Tano is alive."

Vorchenko's eyes widened momentarily, but eventually retracted. "I see. I am assuming she was on Lorrd when you arrived."

"That's correct."

Crossing her arms in thought, she mulled the new news, just as she always did. "That is interesting. I recommend we go over more details in person, however."

Xur frowned. "And why is that?"

She didn't look entirely comfortable, and he could detect slight frustration within her…specifically directed at him. "The Imperium has approved of my intervention. They've outfitted the Valkyrie with various instruments and technology that aren't exactly more advanced, but more of a different make. How it is compatible is beyond me…"

"Hm," Xur mused. "All from our mysterious Benefactor?"

She nodded. "While we're on that subject, I must ask you another favor."

The zabrak lowered his brow. "Go ahead."

"The Imperium will grant us an audience with their leaders, but they have requested that you, Trilla Suduri and Cal Kestis be present. From what I can gather, they have a proposal of sorts, and they have constructed a token of good faith in the form of a care package, which is on its way to Onderon under the care of Saw Gerrera."

Xur let out a light laugh. "Then I guess we'll meet you on Onderon."

Vorchenko shook her head. "You are currently wearing your gift from them, and I insist that you come to my coordinates. If Tano is alive, then I recommend sending both her and Suduri to Onderon to secure the package, that way you and I can already begin our negotiations and preparation."

"What about Katara?" he asked, his eyes narrowed. "You can't expect her mother to part with her. Not now."

"Your daughter will be quite safe on my ship. Antaria has already confirmed she is willing to watch over her," Vorchenko said. "If you desire, I can have her speak with Suduri directly to convince-."

"No, it's alright," Xur waved off. "I'll take care of it."

Vorchenko tipped her head. "Very well. I will send you my coordinates. Hopefully, by the time you get here, Kestis will have already arrived."

"Right," Xur agreed. "Stay safe."

"You as well."

Her hologram disappeared, and immediately Xur wiped his eyes as the stress mounted, feeling as if a thousand different tasks keep appearing out of thin air.

"Planning on going somewhere?"

Trilla's voice didn't even surprise him, looking up to her crossed-arms stance like a guilty child who had accepted his fate. "Are you here to criticize me some more?"

She angled her head to one side. "That depends on you, of course."

He groaned, his mood already soured, and not prepared to deal with anything to make it worse. "I am really not in the mood…"

"To hear me tell you I'm sorry?" she stepped forward, her voice softening to a regretful tone. "Are you sure?"

The zabrak felt his annoyance bristle, resulting in a slight growl. "Can we not play word games right now?"

Trilla paused, realizing her mistake too late, and then proceeded to uncomfortably cross her arms, looking away with embarrassment. He was still upset with her, truthfully, but to see her standing there…knowing all she'd been through…all that she had suffered…he couldn't keep this up, not for much longer.

"Trilla, I'd like to think we're going to live forever," he began, and her eyes regarded him with slight hurt. "That there's always going to be a tomorrow…but the truth is, we need to be grateful for every day will get to even stand in the same room together. I risked everything to get you back, because you're worth it…and I would never jeopardize that—" her raised finger stopped him.

"If you try to apologize, I'm going to be very unhappy," she warned, and he resisted an urge to clench his fist. "Because you did nothing wrong. I was the moron who didn't trust you. I was the idiot who was upset merely because you did not contact me for a singular day. I was the one who shouted you down and threatened to leave over a misunderstanding."

Xur shook his head. More damn word games.

The tear that escaped her eye shut his mouth. "All I want is to be a mother our daughter can look up to…but I can't even convince myself that I'm worthy, not when I'm still giving in to these petty formalities at every turn."

"You're still human, Trilla," he eased. "It happens. You can't criticize yourself for that."

She only looked away, wiping the tear from her face as she sniveled.

"Hey," he inched forward, offering his hand. She watched it for a moment, but eventually took it. "It's alright. I should've been clearer with you. I know you said not to apologize…but I am."

Trilla sighed, leaning in closer so that she could wrap him in her arms, resting her chin on his shoulder as he followed the gesture. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I promise I will place my faith in you…where it belongs…just as it always has."

He corralled her into his grasp, bathing in her presence as he always did. "It's okay…I love you."

She groaned as she tightened her grip, her tears relinquished. "I love you too."

Nearly all the stress he was suffering from was lifted in that moment, and he never wanted to let her go.


Special thanks to DFM23 and bluejadedskies for allowing me to use their OCs! This isn't the last time you'll be seeing Wraith by a long shot, and the Fourth Sister is just barely being introduced!

I really hope you guys are liking Nerah! I personally have loved writing about her more than I imagined, so her role may be expanding a lot, as will Thrawn's. This story needed a badass new villain(?)!

I also may be adding expansion Author's Cut chapters here and there that will be properly placed within the chapter lineup, so look out for those!

Thanks for reading, and stay safe!