"L'cano'r," shouted a voice behind him. "Wait up!"

He looked over his shoulder to see his younger sister chasing after him. "What is it, L'icus'r," the Chiss asked, slowing his stride enough so she could catch him.

"I just wanted to say goodbye before I left, I already got the rest of the family. I finally got orders to my first duty station."

"Hoth," he guessed. All newly commissioned Chiss were sent there for their first assignments. The Empire was desperate for the salvage located there and without their help would have no chance of surviving.

"As if there was any doubt. L'dante'r wouldn't let me leave without promising to get him a knife off a White Maw," she replied, large smile on her face. L'cano'r barely suppressed a sigh. His younger brother had asked the same when he had gotten orders to Hoth, something he ignored to their mother's relief. "I can't wait to see the galaxy!"

"If by galaxy you mean a planet exactly like home, but with Sith and pirates, then you shall have your wish," he teased, smiling down at her. L'cano'r had just returned from his own rotation there and had earned a two-year duty station on Csilla for the rest of his contract. He wasn't sure if he was going to re-enlist or not. Like his sister, he also wanted to see the galaxy, not just the ice planets the Empire needed help on. Their parents, however, were eager for him to complete his duty so he could take his place in the Aristocra. It was a fate he had no interest in, however being the eldest child left him little say in the matter.

L'icus'r laughed in response, saying, "Have to start somewhere. And if I have to earn my stripes on a backwater like Hoth, so be it."

"Just… be careful," L'cano'r warned, stopping and placing his hands on her shoulders. "Pirates and the environment aren't the only dangers out there."

"Yeah, I heard the Republic has been spotted recently."

"That's not what I meant," he said, picking his words carefully. "The Empire may be allies, but never let your guard down around them."

"You're so paranoid," his sister chastised.

"I'm serious," L'cano'r insisted, gripping her shoulders tighter. He was a head taller than her, and bent down to eye level to make sure he had her attention. "They need us, but as far as the Empire is concerned, if you're different than them, you're worthless. Don't ever let yourself be at their mercy, L'icus'r. Promise me."

"I promise," she vowed, smile gone.

"Good," he sighed as he pulled her into a hug. "Stay safe, keep your head on a swivel, and come back with some good stories. Understand?"

"You got it," she smiled as she pulled back, putting her hands on his arms and squeezing them companionably. "See you when I finally get leave."

L'cano'r watched her head towards the dock her transport ship was located. It wasn't until she was out of a sight his best friend took her place next to him. J'anto'n had been a few years older than him, and so while L'cano'r was just arriving for his tour on Csilla, he was heading back to Hoth. They had grown up together and their families were close. L'cano'r's family had just arranged a betrothal for him to J'anto'n's sister.

"Don't worry, I got her assigned to my division. I'll keep an eye on her," his friend promised.

"I know," L'cano'r said. "Don't let your guard down, either."

"Never," he replied with a cocky smile before heading the same way L'icus'r went.

Three months after saying farewell to his friend, he was back with J'anto'n's family waiting for the escort. Out of respect, that area of the spaceport had been emptied. After what felt like an eternity, L'icus'r appeared, leading four men in carrying J'anto'n's remains. They were all in their dress uniforms.

She approached J'anto'n's father, bowed, and solemnly announced in Cheunh, "Taj'enel'non, I have returned Taj'anto'non to you. May this bring you peace in this time of grief."

"Thank you, Kal'icus'ren. You bring your family honor," he replied gruffly, fighting back emotion. L'cano'r saw his sister wince at that. "Later you will come to us and tell me what the Empire will not. I would know how my son died."

"As you wish," she replied before stepping back. Watching from his place in the back, he could sense something was off with his sister, something more than just grief. He wasn't sure what, but he intended to ask her once they were home.

He stood in his family home, taking a last look before he left it all behind. Six months. In six months everything L'cano'r knew was gone. He still couldn't believe it.

It had taken prodding, but with help from L'dante'r he was able to get out of L'icus'r what had happened to J'anto'n.

A pure blood Sith, Darth Ventron, had violated her. When J'anto'n had found out he did everything he could to have the Sith punished. His reward was a patrol that was ambushed by pirates. Imperials claimed interference from a storm had disrupted communications, preventing any rescue team from reaching them. His father had friends stationed at the nearest outpost, they informed him there had been no storm that day.

His father and J'enel'n had gone after Darth Ventron. Both men were dead. As was his mother and L'dante'r and J'enel'n's wife and the rest of their children. They had been on a shuttle when there was a critical malfunction. No survivors. When L'cano'r had tried to pay for funeral expenses for his family, he found the family estate's accounts had been drained. When he demanded answers, he was told the money was claimed under some debt he'd never heard of.

Five weeks later he found his sister. She had put her mouth to her sidearm. Next to her body was an empty bottle of liquor and note apologizing for everything.

With nothing left holding him to Csilla, and debts mounting, he resigned his commission, sold the family estate and everything in it. The only things he owned anymore was the armor he wore, a change of clothes, and several weapons.

He was going to hunt down Darth Ventron, that was the vow he made on his father's grave. With a heavy sigh he shouldered his pack and left his home for the last time.

It had taken months, but he finally found the fucker on Ziost. Turned out Ventron was a sick fuck who didn't care who he had: male, female, human, Sith, alien, didn't matter. So long as they were helpless, he got off on it.

Puxêi was his name now, he'd left his other one behind when he'd left Csilla. He had tracked Ventron and waited patiently for the right opportunity. He lined his shot up while the Sith was distracted. Ventron had tricked some teenage boy into the woods with him, an acolyte judging by the robes. The teen had put up a good fight, but there was no way he had a chance against a Darth. Puxêi waited until the kid was out of the line of fire for a clean shot. When the fight finally left the boy and he seemed to accept his fate, Ventron threw him to the ground. Fucker was so busy reveling in his victory he never saw the shot from Puxêi's rifle coming. Round entered the left eye, instant fatality. Puxêi wished it hadn't been quick, that he could have made him suffer like he had suffered, but there was no time for that. This was a Sith training ground on a planet with a sizable military garrison, this area was going to be swarming with security personnel soon. He needed to get out of there, the only issue was the kid. He didn't like collateral damage, but he couldn't afford a lose end.

Sighing, he looked over and saw the boy was standing. He was looking right at him, and it felt like he was looking a mirror. The emotions on the human boy's face looked exactly like what he'd been experiencing ever since his sister came home with J'anto'n's body. Shocked, confused, helpless… he knew he couldn't kill the kid, no matter how much prudence told him he should. Instead he secured his weapon, nodded at him once and quickly made his way to his shuttle. He estimated he had 10 minutes to get out without security noticing.

Next up was Corellia. He had a contract for the 'Sith Slayer', supposedly some ex-Imperial aristocrat who decided to start picking off Imps and Sith she didn't like. If it was true, in another life they probably been partners. 'Ah well,' he sighed. A contract was a contract, even if he did agree with his target.

"So, Puxêi," Mako started nervously, "probably a good idea to get to know each other if we're gonna be working together. Anything… I don't know… anything you want to share?"

He looked her over in the dim light of the shuttle. They were on their way to Dromund Kaas for the Great Hunt. Originally there was a team of them, but Tarro Blood decided to reduce their numbers. He didn't know Braden or Jory well, but that didn't matter. Blood had decided to cross him, something Puxêi wasn't going to let him get away with. His only regret was Mako. She seemed too good for this kind of life, but she was insistent she came along. She wanted to do right by her murdered friends, Puxêi respected that.

"You can't say my name right," he finally answered. He liked Mako, but had a rule about not giving away too much of himself.

"Well it's not my fault Cheunh is impossible to pronounce if you don't grow up speaking it," she complained.

"Puxêi is Minnisiat, not Cheunh," he corrected. "It means Hunter."

Fighting to maintain her patience, she asked, "How about a compromise, do you have a nickname?"

"No."

"Ok," she sighed, clearly frustrated. He almost felt bad for enjoying this exchange. Almost. "How about 'Pux'?"

"No, sounds too much like an obscenity."

"What… how does that even… you know what, never mind. Pax?"

"No," he answered. "That sounds weak."

"I give up," she huffed, angrily looking out the window.

For reasons he didn't want to examine, he felt guilty for upsetting her. Instead of thinking too closely on it, he offered, "If you would like, Dax would be acceptable."

"Only if you tell me what was wrong with Pax," she pouted.

Sighing heavily, he explained, "Back when I served in the Expansionary Force, there was a guy in my unit who went by that name. He was a coward, abandoned us when we needed him in a fire fight."

"What happened to him?"

"He ran right into a wampa den. We could only send his dog tags home to his family when they were done with him."

"Wow…"

"Yup," Puxêi replied. Mako looked a little pale after that description.

"So, Dax?"

"Yes?"

"What do you think our odds are of actually winning this thing?"

He pulled out the arrogant smirk he used to reserve for the Aristocra. "Easy day," Puxêi replied confidently. "If you ask nicely, I might even let you get the kill shot on Tarro Blood."

"Really," she asked, looking equally horrified and excited at the prospect.

"On my family's graves," he promised.

"Your whole family is gone?" Mako asked and Puxêi tried not to wince at giving away more than he'd intended. "Guess we have that in common, never met my parents, grew up an orphan on Nar Shadda."

"That's rough," Puxêi replied, not able to stop the twinge of sympathy for the girl next to him.

"It was until Braden and Jory rescued me," Mako trailed off. Suddenly her insistence on joining him made more sense. He felt a combination of sorrow for her circumstances and pride at her strength to carry on well up. "You know, I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Puxêi questioned how much of himself he was willing to reveal. On the one hand, he swore he'd keep his distance from everyone. On the other, they couldn't work together effectively if there wasn't some connection.

He came to a decision, and with a quiet sigh confessed, "In a period of 6 months I lost everything. One moment I was home, planning my wedding and joining the Aristocra, the next everything was gone." Memories he didn't want came to his mind mockingly.

"And your fiancé," Mako asked tentatively.

"Died, in the crash that killed her family and mine."

"How long ago did this happen?"

"About 4 months before Braden got in touch with me."

"I'm so sorry," she said, sympathetically placing a hand on his arm. Her eyes filled with sorrow for both of their losses.

"Thank you," Puxêi replied, placing his hand on top of hers.

A voice rang out, announcing their approach to the Empire's capital.

"Guess it's time to get to work," Puxêi said with a smile.

"After you, big guy," Mako replied, doing her best to mask her nerves with a smile.