A/N: This story takes place prior to the events of the fourth of my Avaryss stories, around three years before the return of the outlander in Knights of the Eternal Throne. Though it is not necessary to read my previous stories to understand this one, the character introduced here will be appearing in Avaryss' fourth story when I begin posting it here, so enjoy.

DG

The Old Soldier

Coruscant, center of the Galactic Republic, the world that had been the seat of power for generations…

And now…a world diminished. For the second time it had been crushed under the heel of a distant dictator.

The, so called, Eternal Throne, now held the Republic in its grip, and yet again, the Republic had given up.

The soldier shook his head, for the second time in his life, the Republic had surrendered.

He was most disappointed to say the least.

He sat in his favorite chair in his three room apartment and contemplated his career, a life of war and pain, friends and enemies, and tears of pain and joy.

He ran his fingers through his greying dark hair.

In truth, he had never expected to live this long, he had expected to die in a flash of light and a blaze of glory. He had served the Republic for almost thirty years, first putting on a uniform at the age of eighteen.

A long time dodging missiles and blaster bolts, too long perhaps.

In that time, he had seen two wars with the Sith, he had fought in both, first as a fighter pilot, and then as a member of the Republic insurgent team known as Survivor Squad. He and his friends had done much for the Republic, holding back the advance of the Emperor and his Sith Lords, delaying the Imperial war machine, and keeping the spark of hope alive.

The soldier had been proud of that, back then; he had felt like he was making a difference.

That feeling ended with the sacking of Coruscant, and the treaty that followed.

After that, the soldier had been disillusioned for a time, but still clung to his duty, it was all that he had had, the only thing he had ever been comfortable with.

He had certainly never fit well into civilian life; the old man had made damn sure of that.

You're going to be soldier boy!

Soldiers don't cry!

The soldier frowned.

Miserable old bastard, he thought

The old man had been gone almost ten years now, and still, after all that time, the soldier still heard his voice so clearly.

Yeah Dad, he thought, soldiers don't cry, but they do drink, and blame their problems on others. They take their frustrations out on their wife and their children, children that had nothing to do with what had happened five or six years before they were born.

His father had never understood that, he merely took pleasure in tormenting his wife and children. It was likely the only time the man had ever felt big, and that was only after he drank himself into a haze.

The old man had never met a bottle he didn't like, and he had never hesitated to take it out on his family when he got that liquid courage in him. His sister had married to escape the old man's wrath, but ended up finding a guy that was almost as bad. The soldier had helped her get out of that, only to have her make the same mistake with a new guy, repeating the same mistake that mother had.

He tried not to take it personal. At least his sister had been brave enough to try marriage.

The soldier never had, despite finding someone that might have made him happy. They could have both been happy.

Sadly, it was never meant to be.

That memory still haunted him, likely would until the day they carried what was left of him off the battlefield.

I'm sorry, Galadriel, he thought.

I'm so sorry.

He found himself looking at the table in front of him, at the bottle sitting there. It had been a gift from General Garza, something from Alderaan, well-aged and expensive.

The General had meant well, no one had told her that the soldier didn't drink. He had always feared that, if he did, he would end up just like the old man.

That scared him more than a fleet of Sith Dreadnaughts.

It scared him almost to death.

He had done everything in his power to avoid that fate, to be the better man. Strangely enough, he had found that chance in the Republic fleet.

It was the one place that the old man had wanted to be more than anything.

It was the first place that he had failed.

His father had always dreamed big, he had wanted to be more than a mere grunt serving on some backwater. He had dreamed of becoming an officer, either a general or an admiral, and advisor to the powerful men and women of the Republic.

The old man had never found that dream. Despite his desires, he always seemed to sabotage himself, finally his dream came to end with a bar fight on Chandrila. He was stabbed in the leg by some Weequay thug, the wound never healed properly, and the soldier's father had been force to take an office job, his dreams of glory and command forever denied.

He, of course, blamed everyone else, including his family.

The soldier only knew that because he had gotten curious and looked at his father's file once. He had grown up hearing how this officer had had it out for the old man, or this bit of bad luck had torpedoed his chances for advancement.

In one of the galaxies greatest twists of irony, the son had managed to gain the position that his father had always desired. As a war hero and a Colonel in the SIS; those in power often sought out his advice.

It would have driven the old man mad had he lived long enough to see that, he would have been green with envy. He would have likely been so mad that he might even have disowned his first born son, not that he had much to offer the soldier in the end.

It was funny that he had only reached that point because he had wanted to get away from the old murglak. The soldier had tried to escape the torment of his home by following the old man's example, he joined the military, perhaps he even hoped that it would get his father's attention, and maybe even make him proud.

It hadn't worked, it never would have; he realized that now.

Nothing would have ever pleased the old Huttspawn...

…Certainly not the actions of his first born son.

The soldier sighed, he didn't really like these maudlin moments, but he found himself experiencing them more and more as he had gotten older... As he often did at times like this, he pulled out his old sketch book. The one he had first purchased on Berchest over twenty years ago.

He flipped through the pages, looking at the faces drawn there, he could have transferred them to a digital source by now, something holographic perhaps, but he hadn't.

These sketches were personal. He had drawn each and every one; these were the faces of his friends, his fellow soldiers in Survivor Squad.

We were so young, he thought as he looked at each one in passing.

The flimsy had begun to yellow with age, and to curl up a bit on the edges, but none had faded, he took care of this book, made sure it was secure where ever he had been posted over the last two decades.

In truth, he had dreamed of being an artist once. He had loved to draw in school. Even worked summer jobs over three different summers to pay for private art lessons.

He had hoped to attend one of the famous art academies on Alderaan, but the old man wouldn't hear of it. He refused to even entertain the thought of it.

My son is not going to waste his time drawing pictures. He is going to play sports, and go into the military, like a proper man.

The soldier frowned.

He had done that, played the sports, and signed up, but he had never lost his love of drawing, it had served him well, offering him a calm place to go in the center of many storms.

He smiled.

It also helped him remember.

So many faces, people he had known and fought beside. Galadriel had her own section in his book, of course, the way she smiled, the cool way she stood watch on dark evening looking so vigilant.

He tried not to pause too long at the more…intimate drawings he had made of her. These had been sketched during the height of their relationship, even looking at them now made his heart ache.

"You made a choice, boy," his father's voice reminded him.

Be a man, and live with it.

That is what I'm doing dad, he thought passing the drawings of his old lover.

That was exactly what he had been doing.

He quickly brushed past Galadriel and turned his attention to the other members of their squad, their faces immortalized in images of coal on flimsy. Most of these drawings had been done during the darkest days of the Galactic War; when the Survivors were always getting reinforced.

So many friends, he thought morosely...

…So many DEAD friends.

He remembered them; all those that fell…every one.

Some he had known quite well, others had died on their first few missions; he had never really had the chance to call those men and women friends.

Yet, the war had dragged on, so many lost, so many gone to try and preserve the Republic.

As he reached the final pages, he found himself staring down into the eyes of the last trooper he had lost.

Izzy Drogan had been a legacy of Survivor Squad; her old man had been one of the founders of the corps, along with the soldier, Galadriel, and nine more of their friends. They had escaped the Sith together, and rather than be reassigned to different groups had formed one of their own, fighting under the command of a rather…unorthodox Jedi Knight.

Izzy had hoped to live up to her father's example. She had been a recent recruit to the Survivors when they had gone in to destroy an infamous Sith research vessel. The Survivors had infiltrated the Shadow's Embrace, intent on destroying the vessel before it could be used to weaponized anymore viruses and poisons, to deny the Empire its vile fruit.

During that mission, Izzy had been exposed to one of those poisons, and there had been no antidote! Though the poison had all but robbed her of her ability to feel pain, and use her free will, there had been enough left of the woman to make one final act of self-sacrifice.

She had stayed behind when her crew fled; she had triggered the explosives that they had brought to destroy the embrace.

Darth Avaryss, the Sith master in charge of the project had been on the ship when it blew, the Survivors had hoped she had died with Izzy, but that had not happened.

The Dark Lord lived.

The soldier hoped to one day pay the Sith back for the life of both a good soldier, and the daughter of one of his friends.

As he looked down on the sketch of her face, that intense look in her eyes, so like her father's the soldier's heart nearly broke.

"I'm sorry kid," he murmured.

"I'm sorry."

After the death of the Sith Emperor, the Republic had seemed to be on the road to final victory, to finally be able to close the book on the Sith and their evil Empire once and for all, but then…everything had fallen apart.

The forces of the supposed Eternal Empire had emerged from wild space, their Emperor's twin sons had waged a campaign of conquest across the galaxy, even going so far as to destroy the Jedi Knight that had slain the Sith Emperor in single combat.

Now, the war was all but over. The Eternal Empire's new ruler had forced both the Republic and the Sith Empire into negotiating a truce. The galaxy had been returned to peace, but it was the peace of the gun, and no one expected it to last.

Eventually the Eternal Empire would lash out again, and the Republic would suffer, innocents would die.

The soldier feared that nothing could stop that now.

He closed his sketch book, being ever so careful not to tear a single page.

Once again his eyes drifted to the bottle in front of him, wondering if he had wasted his time all these years.

He had always thought that he could make a difference in the galaxy.

That they could hold the darkness back, and keep hope alive.

He sighed.

Reality always seemed to intrude on that dream, he had lost so much. He was not sure how much he had left to give. He…

"Colonel Krys Capistan?"

The voice emerged from behind him. He hadn't even realized someone else was in the room.

His training took over.

He spun with a single motion, drawing a blaster from a holster hidden beneath the table in front of him. Years of living behind enemy lines had taught the soldier to never be far from a weapon. That lesson had saved his life more times than he could count.

He now faced the intruder, a weapon in hand, ready to send a killing bolt into the person's head.

Not one more step." He shouted, "Let's see those hands…nice and easy."

The intruder didn't move; he heard a sigh of frustration.

"You don't need that, Colonel," she informed him, and yes, he now could tell it was a she.

"I'm here to offer you…a proposal."

The old soldier, Krys Capistan glared at her.

"Step into the light," he said, "Let me see your face."

She complied.

He was more than a bit surprised.

I know this one, he realized.

Well…I'll be damned.

His intruder was a human woman, likely in her mid-thirties, pale skinned with shoulder length blond hair. He might have called her beautiful if not for her eyes.

He knew those eyes; he had seen them many times.

The woman's eyes were golden flecked with red, they almost glowed in the dim light of his apartment, and if that wasn't enough to identify what and who she was, the lightsaber on her belt was a dead giveaway.

Sith eyes, he thought.

Wonderful.

He shook his head.

Wasn't this a surprising turn of events?

Allow me to introduce myself, "The woman said; my name is Lana Beniko."

"I know who you are Sith," he said, still not lowering his weapon, "I still have my security clearance after all."

He gave her a cold smile.

"May I ask what the Sith Empire's minister of Intelligence is doing in my home?"

"A slight smile played across her lips.

"I find that my position has…changed of late, a state I suspect that you can understand Colonel.

Beniko raised her hand.

"You can lower your weapon, you do not need it."

Krys grinned.

"I maybe an old grunt, but my mind isn't that weak, minister, please don't try that again."

"Good," she said, "Very good."

"You would be no good for us if you were simply another trooper with a blaster."

Krys' eyes narrowed.

"I don't serve the Sith," he reminded her, "I won't."

If Beniko was insulted by what he had said, she didn't show it, she didn't even draw her lightsaber.

"I'm not asking you to join the Empire, Colonel, I'm asking you to help save your people!"

Krys considered that, what she was saying.

He frowned.

If the Sith's Minister of Intelligence didn't want him to defect to the Empire…?

Why was she here?

"I still read my intelligence briefings too, Colonel," she said, "I know that you are unhappy with the Republic's decision to accept Zakuul rule, for now."

"I don't blame them," he informed her, "The Eternal fleet has us seriously outgunned."

"It outguns my people as well," she replied, "But being outmatched didn't stop your friends during the first war against the Empire did it? You fought on, kept us from achieving victory."

The Sith woman smiled.

"I'm not alone in hoping that you could do such a thing again. We cannot fight this threat with force of arms alone. The Eternal Empire must be slowed."

"You and your friends know quite a bit of doing such thing, don't you Colonel?"

He listened to what she was saying; it made sense, but…

Why this?

He had been an enemy of the Sith since he was barely in his twenties.

"Why ask him for help, why not turn to their special services people?"

"Who is we?" he demanded, "Who are you working for?"

"Not for," she answered, "but with. Neither the Republic nor the Empire can hope to end this threat. Zakuul is too powerful, but if we act together, perhaps we might achieve something unimaginable."

In that moment, Colonel Krys Capistan of the Republic military did something he never thought he would do in his life.

He lowered his blaster in the presence of a Sith.

He was curious about what else he had to say.

He rose from his combat crouch and dusted himself off, unhappy with the sound of his knees popping.

He shook his head.

He really was getting too old for this.

"You want the Survivors to help you?"

"You would be a great help in the coming war, a true asset," she said, "And yes, Colonel, the war is not over."

"So you say," he said, "I take it you want me to speak with the others convince them to sign on to…whatever it is your asking."

He shook his head.

"Most of my old comrades aren't going to believe this."

"They might," Beniko responded, "if you both spoke to them."

The old soldier blinked.

"Both?"

It was at that moment that the door to his apartment opened, she must have been waiting in the hall.

He didn't take his eyes off of Beniko, fearing she might strike at him if he turned.

Attacking him had never been her plan, apparently, the Sith had something else in mind.

"Hello Krys," a familiar voice called out, "It has been a while, hasn't it?"

He shivered.

Part of him didn't want to believe this.

He had barely heard her enter, but that was no surprise, she had always been light footed, light footed and quick...

She moved like a damn felinx!

He wanted to say it was all some Sith trick, or a lie.

Yet, he knew it wasn't.

Damn!

He turned, and…there she was.

Damn.

It had been almost five years since they had last seen each other, and that had only been in passing. He had chosen to stay in the SIS; she had chosen to join the fleet, teaching her skills to a new generation of commandos.

He sighed.

Damn it.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

He couldn't deny it, she still looked good.

Her greying blond hair was pulled up into the pony tail he remembered so well. Her blue eyes still had that old mischievous glint.

She gave him that foxlike smile of hers, the one that had always driven him wild.

Damn.

"Hello Galadriel," he said, "It has been a while."

Major Galadriel Locke, former member of Survivor Squad, Demolitions expert, sniper, and Krys Capistan's former fiancé grinned.

"You're in, I hope, flyboy," she said, using the old nickname she had given him almost twenty years ago.

"These eternal creeps are big trouble; even the Sithies are scared of them."

"We are not scared," Lana Beniko said sounding slightly miffed.

"But we…are concerned."

Krys didn't care what the Sith thought of the Eternals.

He was still dealing with the fact his former fiancé was here, and willing to aid them.

What was the galaxy coming to?

"Have you talked to the others yet?" he asked her, "Roxy? Jas? Are they on board?"

"Master Jas actually came to me," she admitted, "He and Miss Beniko both."

She shook her head.

"That should tell you how serious this is Flyboy. If the Sith and Jedi are willing to put matters aside for this…?"

He nodded.

He couldn't believe what he was hearing, but…

Damn, what was happening to the galaxy?

After almost forty years, he almost didn't recognize it anymore.

"You are going to do this with or without me, aren't you Gilly?"

She shrugged.

"At least we will be doing something; that is better than simply sitting around and waiting for The Eternals to come and wipe us all out."

He snorted with amusement.

She had a point, but…

She is going to do this whether you want her to or not.

He frowned.

If he said no, and later heard she had been killed, he doubted that he would be able to forgive himself.

He had failed to save Izzy.

If he lost Galadriel too…?

He looked at the two women, one a former lover and ally, the other a hated enemy.

What choice did he have?

Enemy of my enemy was…what? A friend? An ally of convenience?

He shook his head.

It was time to find out.

"Okay, Sunner," he said, using Galadriel's old nickname, she hadn't used it in years, but…

She smiled when she heard it again.

He was the only person who ever used it and didn't make it sound like an insult.

It was simply a part of her.

A part of the woman he loved.

That was enough.

He turned to the Sith.

"So this is an alliance then?"

The beginning of one," she said,

He nodded again.

Damn.

"Okay Sith," he said, not believing what he was saying.

One last time, he thought.

One last battle.

He smiled.

"I'm in."

A/N: As stated earlier, this story will continue in Darth Avaryss' fourth story, I hope to start having chapters for it up by December, in the meantime, I will be finishing Dark Reflection, and continuing with Rogue Jedi. Survivor Squad will be popping up there as I begin the chapters about the Sith invasion, hope to see you all for that, it is going to be a ride.

Until next time, dear readers!

DG