I'm finally back, loyal readers! Sorry it's been so long, but it's getting that time of year, and I'm becoming increasingly more busy. I'm still going to try to get this story finished within the next month. Enjoy the latest chapter, everyone!

Drakken sat on the stretcher, watching the bagged form of Latoure being carried away by two Death Troopers, a pair of ISB agents walking beside the body of the former intelligence operative. He turned his head to the medical unit nearby. A human medic and a medical droid were examining Zala, and she was being fussy. The droid sprayed bacta onto her back as she held a sheet over her chest indignantly. Drakken scoffed. He winced as an ISB medic applied bacta jell to the small wound on his side. The technician pressed a square bandage over the wound and taped it in place.

"Should be healed up in twenty-four hours." He commented. Tharcourt nodded with a low grunt.

"Leave us." A man's voice ordered. The medic looked up, and quickly scampered off. An ISB officer in his white tunic, a wide plaque of red and blue squares on his chest, stepped in front of Drakken. "Commander Tharcourt…" He greeted, his arms folded behind his back. The officer raised his eyebrows. "You made quite a mess."

"Sir, I like to think I kept civilian casualties and collateral damage to a minimum, sir." Drakken returned, sitting up straight at attention. The ISB officer made a dark snarl.

"Except of course on Latoure and his operation." He stated. "As much could be anticipated from an officer of your…unique skill set, commander. Send in a guerilla fighter, expect a guerilla war. I had hoped for Latoure's arrest, however."

"Apologies…"

"Colonel Armande."

"Sir. Apologies, Colonel." Drakken said. "When a man comes at you with a sword, and your ISB contact is about to be eaten by walking corpses, you don't have time for much procedure…sir."

"I already knew of your penchant for making up your own rules, Commander." Armande commented with a haughty smile. "You need not prove that now. However, from what I have gleaned insofar, and according to Major Veruna, it is unlikely anyone else could have concluded this matter so quickly. Nor could any single person have done so much critical damage to his dangerous, seditious organization. I am sure the reports will agree."

"I just do my job, sir." Drakken sighed.

"For the Empire." Colonel Armande suggested. Tharcourt looked the ISB superior in the eyes.

"For the peace and what bit of stability it brings to this damned galaxy." He said truthfully.

"Hm. Spoken like a true soldier." Armande remarked. "Well, good work, commander. I will make sure that your superiors are made aware of your cooperation and your excellent display of martial prowess here."

"Thank you, sir." Tharcourt returned tiredly. Colonel Armand shot him a salute, and Drakken hopped off of the gurney, came to attention and saluted back.

"Do keep out of trouble." The ISB colonel advised, and walked away. Drakken sighed. He walked over to where Zala was pulling her tank top back down over her midriff. She gave him a concerned look.

"Please like, tell me you weren't being a smart-alec to my boss…" She groaned. He shrugged.

"No more than usual." He answered. She rolled her eyes.

"He must either like you or think you're like, a major enemy to the Empire." Veruna said, and hopped off of her stretcher.

"Why's that?" Drakken inquired.

"He didn't have you arrested yet." She stated dryly.

"Another day above ground is always a good thing." He replied.

"How's your wounds, babe?"

"Ahh…" He began uncaringly. "The leg's not too bad. Just a little stiff. My ribs are just bruised. The little nick from the blaster should be alright tomorrow." Veruna smiled.

"You're totally the luckiest man I ever met." She said. "Like, either that or you're too damned angry to die."

"I'm not angry." He scoffed.

"Sweetie…you're the angriest man I know." She said softly. Drakken frowned. "What?"

"Freya said the same thing to me once." He admitted.

"Girls know these things." Veruna advised. "Trust me." Drakken shook his head.

"My masculine inability to understand my own motives aside…" He quipped, "…what do you want to do now? Should I uh…head back, or…"

"You're not getting away that easy. I owe you a good dinner." Zala shot back. "For…you know, saving my life and everything."

"Oh. Is that all?" He smirked knowingly.

"Maybe I wanna spend some time with you…you know, not almost getting killed."

"I guess I don't have to go back right away." He sighed. "I just have to stop back at the freighter."

"Why?"

"You promised me I could keep something." He grinned.

Zala punched in the code for her apartment's door, and it slid open. She stepped in, Drakken entering behind her. She commanded the lights to turn on, and slapped her blaster onto the kitchen island with a thunk. Drakken removed his long coat, and hung it neatly on a hook by the door. His blasters and gunbelt he hung on a neighboring peg, and he turned to see Veruna pouring two glasses of wine. She slid one across the counter to him.

"It's been a rough day at the office." She joked. Drakken picked up his glass.

"I'll drink to that, Zala." He agreed, and turned up the crystaline goblet, downing the entire glass in one go.

"Thirsty, huh, babe?" She laughed, and poured him another glass.

Eh…" He shrugged. "Sometimes helps with the comedown."

"You ever come down?" She asked.

"Sometimes."

"Hmm." Veruna hummed attentively. "I'd totally love to see that...you not all intense and stuff. Domestic Drakken…that sounds intriguing." She took a long sip of her wine, her eyes never leaving the man.

"Figured it would be too boring for a girl like you." He returned indifferently.

"What? You think I like getting blown up like, every day?" She retorted.

"Don't you?" He asked back. She huffed.

"I think I like you better when you're shooting at someone." She grumbled. He pointed his now-empty glass at her.

"See?" He gestured. She walked around the counter and stood before him.

"I think you just like, need a girl that can reign you in, sweetie." She said provocatively. He raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe you need someone who can…you know…"

"What?" She asked with a grin and a cock of her head.

"Bring your attitude down to a reasonable level for one." He stated.

"You mean somebody to command me…teach me a little discipline." She smirked. Drakken felt overwhelmingly awkward, and he fiddled with the empty glass.

"Maybe…" He muttered. She stood up on her toes and nibbled his lip. He pulled away and gave her a quick and detached kiss on the lips. She dropped back down and scowled.

"I'm gonna take a shower. Make yourself at home." She said with a slight flick of her lips. She sounded a little put-off, and Drakken nodded.

"Yeah, alright." He returned. She went into the refresher, and Tharcourt plopped down on a sofa. He turned on the holonet, just to see what was on.

"This week, Imperial forces have captured a dozen rebel ships, and captured two terrorist bases, one on a nameless moon, and one on the Mid-Rim world of Mimban." A reporter dictated. "Imperial Center has issued this report; Our brave soldiers continue the fight against these wicked traitors, but it is up to everyone to take part. Only by reporting any suspicious activity can you help to eliminate the enemies who seek to destroy the peace and security of our beloved Emp…" Drakken changed the signal.

"…and just another reminder that Empire Day is only two weeks away!" A cute, bubbly young woman in an Imperial Press Corps uniform chirped happily on the screen. "Don't forget to support your Emperor by taking part in all of the amazing celebrations happening in your part of the galaxy!" Tharcourt inwardly groaned. The young woman was acting like a school-girl, complete with cutesy poses, and the background kept depicting pictures of smiling Imperial officers, stormtroopers giving toys to children, and festive displays of fireworks and parades. "If you're on Coruscant, bring your children to the Imperial fairgrounds, where they can hold actual blasters, and sit in a real, live TIE fighter!" She giggled. "Gee, that sounds like so much fun!" Drakken changed the station again. It looked like a war documentary.

"The fifty-first Imperial Mechanized pounded the enemy positions for ten straight hours…" He pushed the button on the remote again. That holonet starlet Wynssa Starflare was on a stage, flanked by Imperial banners, singing;

"All the shine of a thousand spotlights

All the stars we steal from the night sky

Will never be enough…never be enough…" He switched stations one more time. The screen showed a rock in a desert somewhere, with sand lightly blowing about it.

"Erosion…is a slow, but steady process…" A voice droned.

"Better than the rest of it…" He grumbled. It all seemed so shallow after this mission, after everything he had seen and done over the past year. He had always thought that broadcasts like these were a little silly, people just being overly-patriotic about an Empire that had brought stability to their worlds after years of war. He had seen it as wasteful advertising at worst; the Empire getting everyone wound up in passion to increase recruitment quotas and perhaps to bolster manpower deficiencies in far-flung outposts. Now, he wasn't so sure.

The idea of propaganda, of distorting the truth or spreading lies to one's own people never sat right with Drakken. No matter how small the lies, or for what cause, It seemed like a recipe for disaster should the truth ever be known, causing the public to lose faith in their leaders. He knew firsthand though, that such strategies pointed toward something darker and more insidious. The Seps had used propaganda on Garos, broadcasting messages of peace, civility and goodwill while at the same time throwing citizens into dank prisons, assassinating public figures who spoke out against them, and slowly draining the planet of its natural resources. He'd watched as Garosians, his own friends and neighbors, bought into the deceit fully, at first stating how good it was that the Seps had been nice enough to help their world grow and blossom on a galactic stage (a half-truth told by Confederation leaders), to then vociferously proclaiming how the invaders were making their world safer and more stable just by being there (An outright lie).

It was disgusting, and he felt his stomach roll even now just thinking about it. He switched the holonet station just as the documentary on soil weathering was showing water dripping repeatedly onto a rock, and tuned in to another broadcast. An unrealistic and overly-dramatic scene of stormtroopers charging into battle while TIE fighters streaked overhead played on the screen, while a proud and over-the-top voice explained why the viewer should run straight out and find an Imperial recruiter as soon as possible. It mentioned that academies were open to youths of as young as thirteen. He found his thoughts spiraling downward. Why was the Empire using the media to constantly broadcast content about how righteous the Empire was? Why did it seem that military-centric events were becoming so common, and why did every entertainer seem to have at least an Imperial banner or two in the background? It was unsettling. This was not the navy he had signed up for, the orderly institution of solidity he had pledged to uphold. These broadcasts had all of the stench of populist indoctrination.

Sure, there had been an overt attempt at patriotic programming in academy. Most of the cadets had either just gone with it to get through their training, or snickered about it in their spare time, but that was different. All militaries wanted to create an atmosphere of espirit de corps, a common goal to fight for. This went deeper. It seemed like the media was brazenly trying to convince young children into joining the Imperial war machine, and their parents to support it. He turned off the holonet screen and sat in the dimly-lit living room of the apartment. A thought even more alarming than the notion of Imperial propaganda popped into his head. The media…even his own superiors talked as though the Empire was quickly and effectively winning the war against the rebels. If the enemy was on the verge of total destruction, why the sudden need to swell the ranks of the military? What if it was all a lie? What if the rebel threat was bigger than they were letting on? He shook his head, convincing himself to let it go.

Veruna walked out of the refresher. Scrubbed, cleaned and moisturized, she felt better than she had in two days. She had changed into a pair of pure white, thin silk sleep pants, and a matching tank top. Her thin, embroidered short silk jacket provided at least a little modesty, helping to conceal what her almost translucent top could not. Her thigh-high silk stockings felt particularly luxurious after the mission in the depths of the city. She stepped into the living room to find Drakken standing on her balcony, gazing out over the view of Coruscant at sunset. She stepped out onto the terrace and put an arm around him.

"Nice view, isn't it?" She commented.

"Nothing like this on the ISDs…" He returned solemnly. "That's for sure." He turned to her, and his eyes shot down to her low-cut top, her scandalously-thin pants of a material he could never afford even a handkerchief made of. She saw his cheeks turn a little rosy in the amber hue of twilight. He cleared his throat, and looked away, back out over the city. Zala giggled.

"I guess you like my outfit." She whispered playfully.

It's alright." He grumbled. She bit her lip, and took him by the hand.

"Come on." She said. Zala led him back into the apartment, and all but forced him to sit on the bed. She leaned in and kissed him on the lips. Drakken hesitated at first, then allowed her to part his lips and slip her tongue in. He brushed her hair back and, at least for a moment, gave her what she wanted before breaking the kiss. She laughed daintily, and sat on his lap, straddling him. She took off the short jacket and dropped it to the floor, knowing that Drakken could now see almost everything.

"What are we doing…" He breathed.

"Told you…I owed you big time for…saving me." She panted. "My hero…" She kissed him on the lips again, and wrapped her arms around him as she moved her mouth away from his, kissing his cheek, his jaw, and gently nibbling his right ear. "Mmm…my big hero…" He picked the small woman up and sat her on the bed as he stood.

"I can't…" He blurted out. "You know I can't, Zala…" She crossed her arms and made a pouty face.

"Why not?" She demanded childishly. "I worship the kriffing ground you walk on, and oh…did you forget that on our mission there, you finally admitted that you thought I was like, worthy of your attention."

"I…it…" He struggled to make sense of the conflicting things he was feeling. "It was in the heat of the moment…I don't think either of us were thinking straight."

"Oh…oh! So you're gonna say that every moment we've had over like, the last three days was totally based on nothing but adrenaline." Her voice was full of anger, and had risen an octave.

"Yeah…yeah, I attribute it to a fully amped-up state and unfamiliarity with the landscape!" He exclaimed, pointing at her as he said the last part. She leapt off of the bed and paced about the room for a few moments.

"Like, what is it, Drakken?!" She demanded. "I dressed up for you, I treat you to dinner, we spend three days watching each other's backs, almost dying, getting close like this, and you pull…this?!" Her cheeks were red, and she looked on the verge of crying. "What is it about me, huh? Is it my money? Is it because I'm short? You don't like short girls? Is that it?"

"You're bleedin' crazy." Drakken growled. "You don't get it, Zala. You're not…I don't…"

"Do you feel anything in that kriffed up head of yours, Drakken? Huh?! You even know how to love anymore?!" She screamed.

"No! Maybe I don't!" He yelled back. "Maybe I don't give a farkle about that trite garbage! Maybe I don't want you because there's nothing there in me to feel. That what you want, oh great ISB Major?! I'm not a kriffing idiot kid, falling in love and thinking everything's just…rainbows and flowers like you." She stormed up to him, and looked him in the eyes hatefully.

"You can't love? That why you don't give a bantha's ass about Thorne?" She asked venomously.

"Oh, void no…don't you bring her into this." Tharcourt warned. "What's between me and her…"

"Is the same thing that's between me and you, right Drakken?" She pressed. "It's one thing to pine for one and kriff the other, but you don't even have the guts to do either one."

"I swear by the damned void, Zala…" He panted furiously. "If you don't back the Hell off…"

"You'll what?" She demanded.

"I'm the Hell out of here." Tharcourt stated. She only pressed herself closer.

"For somebody that grew up killing droids, you sure as Hell act like one." She hissed. "Broken little toy soldier…"

"Go…straight…to…Hell, you promiscuous, degenerate, spoiled little rich girl." He snarled. With a cry of anguish, Zala slapped him hard across the face. Drakken didn't move and inch. He solely turned his head back to her. "Don't…do that…again." He advised in a deadly whisper. Her lips trembled, and Veruna swung her hand again. This time, he caught her by the wrist a moment before impact. For several seconds, he held her arm in a painfully tight grip.

"Let…go…" She growled bitterly. "You're hurting me." She struggled against his grip, and their bodies collided. For a second, their faces were an inch from touching, and they looked spitefully into each others' eyes. He caught her with his free hand and pulled her into him. He spun Zala around and pinned her to the wall hard, eliciting a shocked and lustful whimper from her. She made a throaty groan. "Harder." She demanded. Drakken squeezed her wrist tighter, and pushed her against the wall even more forcefully, and Zala moaned. "It…really…hurts." She gasped.

"You deserve it." He panted, and she squeaked again and looked up into his face.

"I'm still…not…sorry…" She rasped. "You piece of…" He let go of her wrist, and pulled her away from the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he slammed her against it again, knocking over a side table. She grunted, and gritted her teeth. Her nails dug into his back like talons, and Drakken hissed. He swung around, knocking over a lamp before driving her into a wooden shelving unit, breaking one of the shelves and sending the contents to the floor. Veruna threw her head back and let out a primal scream.

"You're…you're messed in the head…" Drakken grunted. She licked her lips, panting for breath.

"So are you babe…oh my gosh…so are you." She planted her lips on his, and he held her against the shelves as they kissed passionately, Zala making small moans as he explored her mouth with his tongue. He pulled away. "Oh void…my back…kriff…mmm…yeah, hurt me again."

"No." Drakken said. Her bottom lip stuck out, and she whined.

"Do what I say, Commander Tharcourt!" She screeched.

"Yes…ma'am!" He yelled heatedly, and threw her on the bed. He started to climb over her, but she put her stockinged feet on his shoulders.

"Who's stronger now? Who's stronger now?!" She demanded, pushing against him as he fought his way up on the bed. She let out a strained cry as he won out against her, pushing her knees up to her shoulders. She parted her legs, and he grabbed her wrists and held them down. Zala's face was pink now, and she was making frantic keening sounds with every breath. "I love you Drakken…I love you Drakken…" She gasped. He released her hands for a moment, and she grabbed him by the shirt collar. She drew herself up to where their noses were touching, her eyes wild with desire.

"Wreck me…" She groaned. "Take it…all…out on me. Everything. Don't you dare kriffin' stop, no matter how much I beg!" Drakken stopped. None of this felt right. It was like reality had slapped him in the face harder than Zala had. He looked down on the woman below him, a sadness and guilt replacing everything he had been feeling just moments before. He backed off slowly, and sat on the end of the bed. For some reason he couldn't explain, he started thinking about Freya, and felt even worse.

"What?" Zala demanded. "What is it now?" Drakken huffed sadly.

"It…it feels wrong…" He muttered.

"Oh come onnnnn…" She began, but he held up a hand and she stopped.

"I am…so sorry, Zala…" He said, and she heard his voice breaking. He held a hand to his eyes. "I'm sorry I'm doing this to you, I really am…" She felt a knot in her stomach, and sat up. She crawled to the end of the bed where he sat, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey…" She whispered.

"I know you want me, Kitten." He stated. "I want you too…yeah, I'll kriffin' say it…part of me kind of wants to be with you. So yeah, I'm a liar. I'm a liar and you were right, and I'm sure you're happy." She heard him sniff. "Damn it…" He muttered.

"I'm not happy about that…" She returned softly. "I mean…what is it, babe?"

"I…I don't know, okay?" He responded emotionally. "I don't know what love is, and I don't care! I never cared. I don't want to care…" He slapped his hands down on his thighs and sighed. "So why the Hell does it feel like this?" She drew herself closer and sat next to him. "We're not together. There's nothing there. We aren't together and we sure as Hell aren't married."

"You and me?" Zala squeaked, confused.

"Me and Freya." He half-exclaimed. "I'll tell you something…and you'd better not say some smart-assed thing about it." He commanded. "You're fracking amazing, Zala. I think I'm into you, and I would go for you in a heartbeat, okay? But…it just feels all wrong…like I'm hurting her." Veruna closed her eyes and nodded. She fully understood now what was going on inside of Drakken's jumbled mind.

"You feel like you're cheating on her." The dark-haired woman said softly. He nodded.

"Yeah…sort of." He said caustically. She hugged him tightly.

"Maybe you are, you big, dumb oaf." Zala sighed.

"Repeat?"

"You need to stop, Drakken. Like, stop playing stupid games with yourself. Quit acting like you're in total control, and you can turn off what's really going on in there…just because you like, don't wanna sort through it, you know?"

"Yeah, but…"

"Shut…the Hell up." Zala ordered. "I mean it. There's no b…b…but. Your whole life is a bunch of butts. You love that girl, and that's all there is to it, sweetie." A tear slid down his cheek. "Yeah, do that. Do that more often, babe."

"I don't want to."

"What you want ain't what you need, Drakken." She countered. "You need to start saying what you need to say to people, okay? You need to stop lying to yourself and to her. You need to come clean and admit you're a sentient kriffing being that actually feels things. What's going to happen if you tell Thorne you love her? What's going to happen if you two hook up, huh? Nobody else cares, why do you?"

"But…"

"Buh…buh…buh…" Zala mocked. "You can take out a base full of rebels by yourself with a spoon, but you can't tell a woman you like her? Geez, no wonder you're such a wet blanket." He shot her an irritated glance. "I mean…I'm not wrong."

"Doesn't mean I wanna hear it..." He mumbled.

"What you want isn't what you need." Veruna repeated. "You tell that sweet little cutie how you feel, or you'll never have a good night's sleep."

"You think I ought to?" He asked, uncertainty in his voice.

"Yeaahhh…I think you need to." Zala returned. "You need to say it, she needs to hear it, and after everything you've put me through, you seriously don't want me telling her for you." Drakken scoffed.

"No…that would probably be a bad idea." He said. "I'm…actually kind of scared."

"Don't be." She stated. "She loves you, sweetie. Like…totally."

"I know." Drakken said as if it were a revelation to him. "I know she does."

"Mm. Now…shaz…I need another shower. Don't go anywhere. I still owe you dinner, just…" She heaved a frustrated sigh. "You really…really got my hopes up. I'll be out in a few."

"You're not mad?" He asked.

"You damn right I'm mad…" She answered. "Not entirely at you…just peeved." She laughed. "You're still my dream guy." She stood and started for the refresher for the second time that night.

"Kitten?" He called after her. She turned back. "I'll admit it…you're a beautiful woman, and you uh…you turned out to be a good friend. If things were different…yeah." He gave her a caring smile. "And for what it's worth, you look…so amazing in that." She grinned conceitedly.

"I know."

When dinner was over, Drakken carried their plates to the dishwashing unit. He walked to the door, and buckled on his gunbelt as Zala stood close by. He threw on his long, black coat and turned to his companion for the last three days. Without saying a word, she threw her arms around him. He embraced her warmly, and for a moment, they stood there, silently hugging in the entryway. She finally drew away.

"Gonna like, take my advice?" She asked superciliously. He smirked.

"Yeah…I think I will." He nodded. "Bye, Kitten."

"Don't say that." She replied softly. "Makes it sound like you won't come back to see me."

"Zala…I want to. And I look forward to more of our holocalls." He said. "And finding more of your little cameras in my office." She stuck her tongue out from between her teeth playfully. Then, her smile faded a little.

"Oh…and be careful, Drakken." She said seriously. "You're being watched, like majorly. I don't know why, but watch yourself."

"I will."

"And uh…I really want you and Thorne to like…get together…" Zala continued. She dallied a little, then pulled a folded up durasheet from her cleavage and handed it out to him. "If like…things don't work out between you two…which I hope they totally do…but if they don't…" She sighed.

"What is this?" He asked.

"My private holocall number." She admitted. "If things don't work out…I know it's crazy, but here's my number. Call me maybe." Drakken made a deadpan expression at her.

"Did you just..."

"Yeah, I did, so what?" She shot back defensively. He chuckled and shook his head.

"So you're okay, Zala?"

"Yeah." She breathed. She stood up on her toes and gave him a kiss on the lips. "We always want what we can't get, sweetie." He hugged her again.

"I'll see you around, Kitten." He said. Drakken stepped out into the hall, and Zala leaned up in the doorway.

"And I'll be watching." She smiled. "Laters, Drakken."

He flew the small freighter to the desolate chunk of rock he and Ekks had found in their search. He landed short of the cave, and hoisted the large bag containing the rotary blaster onto his shoulder. Drakken stepped off the ramp, and walked to the entrance to the small cavern, ducking as he entered. He lit a small glowstick, and looked around at the cache he and the rogue pilot had built up over the last couple of months. Two weapons racks were completely full of captured rebel blaster rifles. Several crates containing blaster pistols, field gear, uniforms and other odds and ends were stacked against one wall. Two more containing dried rations and water sat against the other, and atop it were a couple small metal boxes containing personal items.

He sat the bag containing the Z-6 up against the wall of the cave, then returned to the ship and brought back a bag containing his Westars, their holsters, and his civilian clothes, along with a few spare thermal detonators and a satchel of credits he'd smuggled off of Coruscant. He sat this bag by the weapons rack, and picked up the one containing his uniform and issued equipment. On a whim, Drakken went to the ration crates, and pulled his box down. It was about the size of a large datapad, and about ten inches deep. He opened it, and checked the contents. Inside the container, he had placed three-thousand in Imperial credits, a small metal box of cigarras, a torch lighter and a small metal flask of spotchka. He drew out a small, twisted and blackened shard of metal. It was the remains of the droid popper he and his team had used when they had rescued Freya from Captain Rallis. He stared emotionally at the object, and carefully placed it back into the box.

He sat the small case back onto the crate, and paused a moment before pulling down the other container. He felt somewhat wrong for it, snooping through Freya's personal items, but Drakken needed something, anything to feel close to her right now on this forsaken planetoid somewhere in the dark bowels of nothingness. He opened the box, and immediately smelled flowers. Indeed, Freya had placed a couple bundles of dried flowers into the case, and he gently lifted them out. Below was a pair of the gloves he had bought her for her birthday, and a small roll of napkin. Drakken unrolled the tiny bundle, and he felt tears form in his eyes. Inside were a few hard candies. He easily remembered the day he had given them to her, after one of their meals together. He rolled the candies back up and noticed a slip of material sticking out from underneath the gloves.

He knelt down, sat the box on a footlocker, and pulled the thin object out. It was a copy of the photograph he had seen on her nightstand, the silly picture she had taken of herself, Drakken, and the whole team inside the shuttle. Drakken gazed at the snapshot for a few silent moments, his eyes finally settling on the image of Freya. He smiled, and gently kissed her picture, and placed it carefully back into the box.

"I'm coming home, love." He whispered. Drakken stood, and sat her box back onto the crate. He made his way back to the small ship, and lifted off of the barren space rock. He flew next to a port on the planet Bestine, where he parked the ship on the outskirts of town. He gave the venerable old freighter a friendly pat, and walked into the spaceport in his Imperial uniform. Drakken gave his name, rank and destination to the man at the desk in the Imperial garrison. To help cover his tracks, he mentioned that he was traveling back to his assigned ship from a meeting on Coruscant, and that he had ridden in on a private vessel. He was checked onto a shuttle leaving in one hour. He sat down on a bench outside of the office, and leaned his head back. It had been a very strange couple of days, but soon he would be back with his team, back with Freya, and everything would be okay.

So officially ends the Coruscant arc of our story. But the story continues, and we are left with the question of what will happen with Drakken and Freya now that he has had to confront his true feeling for her? I kinda feel bad for Zala, but she's had such an arc herself, and turned out to be so much more than she initially appeared to be. Drakken has a way of bringing out the best in people, doesn't he? And killing Rebels. He's quite adroit at that as well.

I will try to have another chapter up soon. As of posting this chapter, I'm working on the final act of the story, and I will try to have new chapters up every couple of days. Key word "try". So keep it locked in right here for the next installment of "Imperials". Until then my loyal readers, cheerio!