Kharn flicked on the ship's auto-nav. He was confident that the Empire was finally no longer on his ass. He had stolen a small single-seat freighter - which, he would admit was not the worse thing he had done - to escape off Carcosa, a farming planet known for its Lake Hali which is famous for its illusion of the planet's distant twin suns sinking within the lakes unfathomable depth and where it looks as if black stars fill its night skies. Kharn had been there merely as the drifting survivor that he was but someone had informed the Empire of a possible Jedi and so here he was, once more trying to avoid Order Sixty-six. As he had done for the last six years.

He eased back his pilot seat and for the first time in days, drifted off to sleep.

"You okay handsome?" A soft voice asked. Kharn blinked a few times behind the metallic visor he wore to breathe in oxygen-rich environments and shook his bald orange head, "I didn't think I hit you that hard with the push but I guess I was wrong," a red-skinned hand popped into his view. He looked up to see that Suula was standing over him with a big smile that lit up her bright blue eyes and that the pair of them were in the small training room they frequented in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Sweat from their sparring had caused the white tunic she wore to stick enticingly to her lithe, well-toned body in spots and was nigh translucent in others leaving little to the imagination. They had been training for hours, since first light actually, and it was high time they had some food.

"I'm alright," he replied as he took her hand. She began to haul him up with a Force fuelled pull, "I think I just got winded when I hit the-"

The training room was gone. There was only the red glow and the hum of the lightsaber Suula had driven into his stomach to the hilt at the apex of his ascent. He struggled to breathe as she held his sabre hand above his head and he met her now yellowed eyes with his own, "You need to stop," she whispered heartbrokenly.

Kharn jolted awake. A bad dream. One he had had many times to the point where he was no longer sure if it was just that or if the Force was warning him of his death. He held his eyes screwed shut as he removed just the eye coverings of his rebreather and rubbed the sleep from them. He replaced the pressurised goggles and blinked a few times as his eyes readjusted and looked at the sensors. They read all clear so he pushed himself up to his feet and ducked into the too-short hallway to go take a leak.

The ship shook like one of Suula's illegal toys - at least they were to some members of the council - and thrashed him about the ship's latrine, "Force dammit!" He cursed as he was still midstream. He pulled up his pants, washed up, and hurried to the pilot cabin. Scanners and sensors were blaring as if he owed them money. There was a ship closing in behind him and it was trying to blast him out of hyperdrive.

As full of good ideas, as he ever was, he dropped out of hyperdrive so hard the little dancing Twi'lek on the dash console hit the plexisteel view window that he swore he heard the "glass" crack. He didn't have time to think about it though as he knew whoever it was would've seen him drop and would be on him in a moment if he didn't get his ass moving, so he punched the engines to full burn and hard turned towards a nearby planet.

Sure enough, as Kharn was entering the orbit of the planet, a Hutt run backwater called Doranth, a small starfighter dropped from hyperspace and followed suit.

Kharn landed his freighter in the shadest starport he could find. He punched the landing ramp button, threw up the hood of his sleeved cloak and descended the ramp.

"Hey, buddy!" A gruff look Rodian hollered at the Jedi as he stomped up to him, "You can't park there!"

"Sure I can," Kharn made a subtle finger roll motion with his hand, "I've already shown you my permit."

"Of-of course," the rodian nodded slowly, "My- my apologies, my lord," he bowed and backed away then scurried away.

Kharn thought that was an odd reaction to his mind trick but kept moving to try and vanish into the crowd that was likely outside the port.

There was no such crowd. Instead, there was a small group of thugs who had come to investigate who had the gall to land at their boss's starport. "Who are you?" A scar-faced Cathar demanded.

"Just a vagrant," Kharn replied, again trying his mind trick.

"A vagrant with a starship?" A human woman pointed out.

There was a long pause from Kharn, "Yes."

"Let's bring him in," the woman ordered flatly. The four men moved in to circle Kharn while the woman hung back.

"I would rather not," Kharn replied, watching the men through his periphery.

"You don't have a choice, hobo," the woman drew a wicked-looking blaster from a holster hidden behind her large breast that was further accentuated by her bustier. Kharn sighed and held up his hands with a chuckle, "What's so funny?" She asked with her unpatched eye squinting at him.

"Guess I'm bust-" He was unable to finish his pun as she, at full power, blasted him with the blaster's stun setting, which threw him back a full two feet.

"Frakking," she swore with annoyance, "Every time."

"I bet it's because of where you keep your blaster, Mira," the Cathar said.

Mira turned to look at the cat man, "Shut up Garfeld," then to the others, "Tie him up and let's get him to Baatoo."

"We shouldn't be doing this," he whispered breathily to Suula, "It's against the Code." The sun had long set but the two Jedi were still in the training room; however training, they were not. Both of them were naked and sat on the matted floor. Suula sat upon his lap and gently rocked and rolled her hips up and down him as he massaged her heaving bosom before his face.

Suula let out an amused chortle, "We can stop if you're not comfortable doing this," she slowed to a stop and Kharn sat there silently for a moment.

He took her taut, muscular buttocks firmly in his hands and guided her to resume her movements, "Master Obi-Wan says that the Code is just a guideline."

"That was my understanding," Suula agreed as she nuzzled into his shoulder, "By the Force, this is better than any I've tried by myself." It was the first time either had done this though Suula had begun exploring her own body after stumbling on a book of sexual techniques while on a mission with her assigned teacher, Jedi Knight Tarkis Allar, which she squirrelled away in her dresser wrapped in one of her ill-fitting robes from her late teens. Kharn, also in his early twenties, was the only one who ever knew she had the book, having been her best friend as they grew up at the Temple.

The two stayed in that embrace until they climaxed, first her followed shortly by him.

Kharn couldn't move much at first when he awoke in the jail cell, a common side effect of the maxed-out stun shot. All six foot four inches of his body was stiff as if it had been freshly removed from a body cast. He took a deep, meditative breath and let the Force flow through him like cleansing water on his slow, deliberate exhale. He could feel the stiffness subside as it was washed away by the effect and slowly, attempted to sit up, first propping himself up onto his elbows.

His momentum was halted however by the door opposite his cell opened and the busty woman from before entered, "Good you're up. Boss wants to talk to yo- have some pleasant dreams?" She gestured to his crotch.

Kharn pushed himself the rest of the way to his feet, "Show the way Tit-anya. I wish to speak to your employer as well."

"Gotta say," she mused as she disengaged the force field, "That's the first time I've seen someone react like-"

"You're boss if you please," he interrupted as he stepped out of the cell.

"Come on then," she gave a wave to follow her.

"You're not gonna cuff me or make me walk in front of you to make sure I don't do anything funny?" Kharn asked as he followed her, more than a little confused. That was how it usually went. After all, this was his first time captured by some cartel.

"No need," She answered. She had a power strut that made it difficult to not look at her shapely, tight pantsed derrière, but Kharn - ever the professional and cynic - stayed the course, "There's not a lot you could do by yourself in a place like this."

Kharn smirked to himself behind his mask, "Ye of little faith," he joked as he followed her down a few more hallways before asking, "So, you must be the face of the operation, yes?"

"Why do you say that?" She replied as they came to an elevator door.

"Usually buxom folks like you," he began as she pushed the call button, "are one of three positions in a gang."

"Oh? What are those?" She wondered where he was going with this.

"You're either the leader or second in command," he held a finger and then two more for his next two statements, "a slave, be they sexual or otherwise," she raised a brow at that, "or the seducer that can coo their way into many a door be it for themselves or another."

"My," she feigned being impressed, "aren't you clever," her tone switched back to her normal gruff, "what's your point?"

"No point, simple observation from years of wandering," Kharn tucked his hands behind his back like the Republic major he once was. The two stared at each other, eyes locked, for a long time.

"You're a ballsy fella ain't ya?" She asked.

The elevator dinged as it announced its arrival. "You've no idea," he replied.

Mira led the ex-Jedi into a large, auditorium-like room with an empty dais along the long back wall. "Let me guess," Kharn sighed at Mira, "You're the real boss?"

"Not quite," a deep voice laughed in Huttese. A member of said race slithered like a slug into the room from the opposite side of the room. His rough skin was a coppery-blue with cobalt markings on his face. "Here I was expecting to execute some would-be punk and yet I find a Jedi standing before me."

"Ex-Jedi, Baatoo," Kharn corrected.

Mira looked between the two with angered confusion, "You two know each other?"

"Hardly," Kharn answered to which Baatoo looked legitimately offended.

"Hardly?" He repeated the word, "Hardly he says. This man, little Mira, this man saved my daughter from certain death."

"It was a coup d'état by one of his underlings," Kharn stated bluntly, "most likely your predecessor," it was hard to see because of his breather but he gave her a flat smile, which she sarcastically returned.

"Who would have killed my darling Dula had he not happened by," Baatoo added with a dramatic flourish of placing the back of his hand to what counted as a forehead.

"I got hired by the locals to clear the gang out of the water treatment plant they had commandeered," he explained leaning towards the woman, "Saving the small slug was happenstance." He turned back to Baatoo, "Can I go now? I have park benches to sleep on and showers not to take."

"Nononono," Baatoo tisked, "that simply will not do! Mira," he addressed the bombshell, "find the man a room and get him bathed, I wish to speak to the man in the morning!" Baatoo commanded with flair.

"I'd- I'd rather not do that," Kharn tried to protest but Mira was already shooing him back the way they came.

"And give him back his pretty little swords!" The Hutt called out after them as they left.

"Come on, Jedi boy," Mira gave him a hard slap on the shoulder, "you can clean up in my quarters until I find you your own for the night."

"This is a bad idea," Kharn said more to himself than to her.

"Why? Worried I'll like what I see and try to jump your bones?" Mira teased with an exaggerated head, "Make you break your little oath?"

Kharn didn't answer. Not right away at least, "I should move on, safer that way."

"You'll be fine," Mira gave a dismissive hand flap, "We're all ex-military or the like. There's nowhere safer to be."

Kharn didn't believe her. In his lifetime, he had long since come to understand that he could exile himself away on a planet, be all by himself and yet trouble would still somehow find him.

"Now come on," she gave him a push to get him moving, "let's get this stink off you."

"Whatcha thinking about, Love?" Suula asked him. They were snuggled up and naked in the bed of her quarters. The chronograph on her nightstand betrayed that the sun was about to begin its slow creep from behind the horizon but neither Jedi had slept that night for they were too young to waste the night sleeping.

Kharn had snuck nearly the entire length of the temple that night to get to Suula's room. They had talked for hours, watched some holovids and eventually partook in each other. "Do you wanna get married?" He took his shot.

Suula was quiet for a moment, "Yes, but the Code..."

"To hell with the Code," Kharn burst out, though not in anger, "we could elope, go live on Dantooine or Alderaan as farmers! We could start a family."

Suula nuzzled into his chest with mixed emotions, "That sounds nice..."

Kharn pulled himself out of the blackened watered tub as the door to Mira's personal bathroom opened and the woman in question entered while reading a holoslab, "I found you a room on the west si- hot damn!" She had looked up from her logistics to find Kharn completely naked as he dried off his shoulders with a towel. In no uncertain terms, he was ripped but was waning due to malnourishment. He was also covered stem to stern in scars - new and old - as if he had taken the phrase "death by a thousand cuts" as a challenge to prove wrong. Most notable of his scars was the large sabre stab wound that had been medically restored.

Kharn looked up at her from staring at his feet, "What?"

"I..." she pulled her gaze away from certain parts of him that were swinging hypnotically as he pulled the towel back and forth across his shoulders, "I didn't..." she cleared her throat, "I didn't think..." She struggled for a moment, not sure why she was suddenly so attracted to a hobo but one big swinging thing came to mind, especially since she hadn't found a fulfilling one in such a long time.

Mira blushed and looked back - nay, buried her face back into the holoslab as she desperately changed the subject, "Found you a room on the west side of the complex and I'll see to it that you get bred- I mean fed!"

If Kharn was aware of her struggle and/or sudden desire to bear children, he showed none of it, "Thank you, but it won't be needed." He set the towel on a hook and turned to collect his belongings, "Where are my clothes? They were right here."

"Had them taken to get washed," Mira answered, "They could practically stand up on their own."

"So what am I supposed to wear now?" Kharn asked with his hands on his hips.

"I've got some clothes for you out here," Mira gestured behind her to her quarters. Mira, despite her size and dispositions, made a small, near imperceptible squeak as the nude Kharn suddenly stepped towards her.

He passed her by and stepped out to the bedroom, "Where?"

"On the bed," Mira answered, hiding behind her holoslab, cursing herself for finding the vagabond even remotely attractive.

Kharn picked up a garishly coloured tunic, "You don't have anything more... subdued?"

"It was all I could find in your size on such short notice," Mira replied, finally regaining her composure with a heavy sigh, "I'm the only one here that's even remotely close to your height."

He sighed and let out a grumble as he pulled on a pair of trousers, "and my sabres?"

"Should be on the dresser there," Mira answered. The door to her opened and one of Mira's gang from earlier, an orange and black striped Cathar, barged into the room holding a blaster rifle, "What in the hell are you doing Garfeld?!"

"He's got a bounty on his head, boss!" The catlike man exclaimed like a drowning man finding water.

"And?" She replied, "Most of us do."

"Y-yeah but like for eight figures," Garfeld said as he levelled his rifle at Kharn.

From Garfeld and Mira's perspective what happened next was nearly instantaneous. Kharn ripped forth one of his sabres from its resting place on the dresser across the room, ignited its orange blade, and lazily blocked three shots from Garfeld's rifle within the blink of an eye.

He reached out to the Force and jabbed out with an open palm at the Cathar, closed it into a fist while twisting it then pulled it towards himself causing Garfeld to lock up with his arms out and fly across the room towards the former Jedi. Garfeld landed face first onto the ground before Kharn, "Do with him what you will," the Kel Dor stated flatly - unphased if not bored of having done this dance for half a decade - and casually cut the blaster rifle in half, which left a sizeable glowing gash in Mira's floor as he stepped over the Cathar on his way towards the dresser.

Mira pulled a pair of manacles from a pouch attached to the rear left of her belt, "Hot damn, Jedi Boy," she tilted her head in awe, "The frak you do all that?" She squatted down to cuff Garfeld.

"Years of dogmatic training," Kharn replied bluntly as he clipped his silver sabre onto his belt and hefted the sabre that still sat on Mira's dresser. He stared at the hilt, it was smaller than the one on his belt by an inch or so and thinner. Yet it was so much heavier than his own, at least it felt so to him, "Please, You need to stop," Suula's last words echoed in his head as he held her sabre.

"Everything alright?" Mira's husky drawl broke through the fog of recollection.

"I'm fine," He blurted out without thinking as he turned to see that she had not only picked up the would-be assassin but had thrown Garfeld over her shoulder like a sack of root vegetables. Had he had them, one of his brows would have raised, "I see it's not all fat under there."

"Better not be," she replied proudly as she thumped her chest with her unoccupied fist, "I work out enough." Kharn inclined his head with a hum of understandance, "I'll show you to your room while I take him down to the cells," she added as she roughly adjusted the unconscious Cathar on her shoulder, "Follow me."

Mira had been correct in her statement of his room being on the west end of the building but its door was just around the "corner" - it was a curved corridor - from hers and one could see the other's from their doorway. The room was nigh identical to hers just mirrored in layout. "Baatoo doesn't skip out on mattresses," Mira stated as she showed him the bedroom, "Bet it'll be a thousand times better than any of the benches in the park."

"Comfort was, maybe," Kharn shrugged as he scanned the room and made metal notes for mounting defenses, "but-"

"Relax, Mr. Hobo," she scoffed, "I dunno what's got you so shaken, but a small army couldn't break into this place."

"And yet here I am," he mumbled to himself so quietly that he almost couldn't hear him. He stood in the centre of the room for a moment then sighed, "I'll stay the night and see what Baatoo wants then I'll be on my way."

"Eyyy," she clapped him on the shoulder triumphantly, "good to hear. Stop by my room later for drinks then," she beamed at him, "you radiate the need for a stiff drink and I've got some good druk that'll strip the paint from a starship."

Kharn looked away from her at what he thought was movement in the corner of his eye then back to her, but chalked it up as a PTSD hallucination, "I'll think about it."

Kharn pressed the door buzzer and he could hear some scrambling and a crash from behind the steel door, and he heard a slurred "Frakking druk!" shortly follow. Kharn waited a moment longer then began to turn to leave when the door swooshed open. "H-hey! You came! I mean you showed up!"

Kharn froze as he took in the sight of her attire as it was so different from the gruff, gang baroness tone she had presented earlier that day. She was draped in a short pink nightie that was almost sheer that showed off her sizable chest and backside considerably and she was clearly already drunk given the heaviness of her eyelids and the flush of her face and body, "I did, but maybe I should go."

She took his arm in a panic, "Wait! No! Please come inside," she lowered her eyes to look at the floor and whispered, "I don't want to be alone tonight."

He wasn't sure if it was pity or an understanding of the feeling but he let out a sigh and said, "Okay."

She swayed like wheat in the wind and stumbled a couple times as she led him into the main den of the personal quarters. It was sparsely decorated as if it wasn't used often yet it still had a couch, a caffa table, and a fair sized screen for watching holovids. She lost her balance as she rounded to the front of the sofa and fell on to it, arms and legs flailing out to the point she damn near kicked the caffa table as she landed on her ass. "I suppose that one way," she giggled to herself as she settled into the furniture, one leg hanging off showing that she wore no underwear.

Kharn let out a sarcastic hum of agreement as he looked over to the attached kitchen. There were three empty bottles on the counter by the sink. He walked over and picked one of them up to read the label. It was Cassandran Choholl, "This is some expensive stuff," he stated, surprise tinting his voice.

"Hell yeah it is," She managed to pull herself up and lean against the back of the couch. She was oblivious to the fact that her left strap had fallen from her shoulder as she spoke, "I commandeered a crate from some rich kid a month ago," she pointed a wobbling finger at him, "Told you I had some good stuff."

Kharn couldn't help but smirk a bit under his mask, "If I recall," he said as he set the bottle back down, "I believe you said that you had 'druk that would strip the paint from a starship'" he quoted back to her.

"I- I do!" She protested, her tone shifting to that of a child being accused of lying, "It's in the bottom of the fridge," she shifted her pointing at what she thought was the fridge but Kharn could tell was the wall next to it.

He opened the unit and found a small decanter of a pale liqueur. He picked it up and gave it a sniff after popping the cork and immediately snorted and coughed, "Where did you get accarragm?" he asked once the choking subsisted.

Mira rolled over so that she was looking at him upside down with her arms straight out to either side of her, "That's a secret."

He looked back to the bottle, recorked it and set it on the counter, "I'd be careful with this stuff I was you," he warned, "Stuff's too powerful for humans."

She got all huffy at him, "You saying I ain't tough!" She rolled back over, an act that threatened to spill her out of her nightie, "I beat you in a fight!"

"Hardly," he scoffed as he looked through her cabinets until he found a short glass, "You sucker punched me with a maxed out blaster stun," he added as he poured himself a human finger's worth of the accarragm.

"Come sit with me," she said cheerfully and patted the couch as she suddenly changed the subject.

"I'm good," he replied before removing his mask to take a tiny sip of the potent Wookie fungus whiskey.

"Why not?" She pouted and flopped her head on the back of the couch.

Kharn replaced his mask, which hissed with his words as it cycled in fresh Dorin and helium gasses into his lungs, "Because you're drunk."

"S-so?" She slurred out, "It's because you don't think I'm pretty isn't it?!" She asked accusatoryly, then she deflated rather hard, "no one ever finds me pretty anymore with these scars," she whispered.

He set his drink down on the counter and spoke bluntly, "Whether or not I find you attractive has nothing to do with the fact that I simply do not trust you to behave yourself seeing as you can't hold your liquor."

She sulked at him for a few minutes but he maintained his emotionless and physical distance, "I can behave," she meekly replied.

"You can barely stand," he sighed, "I knew this was a mistake," he huffed annoyed at yet another woman fawning over him needlessly and started towards the front door.

"W-wait!" Mira called after him. He paused but did not turn to face her, "I- I just," she fought through the foggy mire that was her intoxicated mind, "I'm sorry. I just wanted someone to talk to, everyone else is scared of me because of my position and no one wants me anymore because of my scars and I thought that..."

"That you could seduce me into frakking you so you don't have to be lonely," he more stated that asked.

"Y-yes," Mira dropped her gaze and stared at the metaphorical abyss that was now the couch cushion in front of her, "You've been the first person that hasn't been either overtly hostile, planning to murder me to take my place or a snivelling coward that's to afraid to talk to me."

He finally turned to look at her. Tears rolled down her cheeks but she was otherwise composed, likely from the alcohol, "I have been nothing but sarcastic or humouring you all during this whole farce," he stated sternly. He was about to rant a little further when there was a large boom and the complex shook, "Force dammit!" he cursed as emergency lights and alarms blared, "Now what?"

Mira's communicator crackled to life, "We're under attack by an unknown force! Repeat! We're-" the line went dead, likely the same fate as the speaker had.

Kharn suddenly went very calm, scarily calm. He put his palms together and took a deep, meditative breath, "FUCK!" He yelled with such anger it caused Mira to flitch.

"Wh-what?" She asked, peeking behind the back of the sofa.

"It's likely the bounty hunter that I had been trying to lose on this backwater dirt ball of a planet," he said angrily as he paced the room's entryway, "and now I have to protect you lot because instead of just letting me disappear," his voice became a low rumble, "you dragged me into a corner."

"I- I thought Jedi weren't supposed to get mad," she hid a little more.

"As I keep telling you people," he punched the door's panel to open it. Blaster fire flew chaotically in both directions, "I am not a Jedi."