I'm back, and I come bringing another chapter for all of my loyal readers. I feel I should tell you all that we are beyond the halfway-point of the story now, and at the time of posting this, I have just finished chapter 74. This fic has been a serious labor of love, and I am so honored to be able to share it with all of you. Star Wars has long held a place in my heart that no other fandom ever has. And believe me, I have a fair number of beloved fandoms. To be totally open with you all, I nothing in the way of a social life, and maybe just a couple of casual friends. So to be able to share this with you and to know that I am enriching your lives, entertaining you, and giving fellow Star Wars geeks something they love...it's a great feeling.
Okay, enough of that, I suppose. Let's pick up where we left off, eh? Onward with the story!
Drakken packed his bag with a spare uniform, and a collection of odds-and-ends he thought he might need on his trip. It was supposed to be a mission, so he didn't bother with much in the way of personal effects. He considered how much armament he should bring, but rationalized that since it was a joint mission with ISB, he would probably be able to requisition much of what he needed. Then again, he had never taken part in this kind of operation before. Tharcourt made a mental note to ask Veruna about this later in the morning.
He sat the half-packed bag on his bed, and decided to leave it for the moment. It was going on 0900, and he had to address his team…and get something to eat. Drakken stretched his sore muscles and left his quarters, walking through his office and into the commons-room. There, he found most of his unit lounging about. Gallen was laying on one of the room's padded benches, and looked to be sound asleep. Lago was sitting in the floor, his back against a wall, sipping a cup of caf. Felian was talking to Mets and Coleth, and from the look of his hand gestures, he was describing some sort of combat technique. Daraay was seated at the workbench, a blaster taken apart before her, and a veritable stack of weapons leaned up against the wall beside her.
"Morning troopers." Tharcourt greeted.
"Morning sir." They answered in varying degrees of tiredness. Ekks appeared from the hatch leading to general quarters, whistling something. He stopped, came to a mockery of attention, and threw the commander a sloppy but friendly salute.
"Good morning, bossman." The pilot greeted amiably.
"Morning corporal." Tharcourt returned with raised eyebrow. "You're looking bright-eyed this morning."
"Yes sir…we're not doing anything…important today or tomorrow, are we?" Ekks asked.
"Well…no. I was going to inform you all to take a day or two off to rest up after that hell-storm we were just on." The commander informed him. "Why?"
"Oh…no reason." Ekks shrugged. "I just have a couple days of leave saved up, and I thought I'd…you know…go find something to get into."
"Like a certain fighter pilot, Ekks?" Gallen asked without so much as opening his eyes. The sniper grinned knowingly.
"Hey, Tama is a first-rate gal." Ekks stated. "I think I like a woman who can handle herself, you know? Take charge…"
"Lemme guess…she the one that asked asked you out." Gallen returned, still feigning sleep. Ekks shrugged.
"What a gal." The Corellian remarked with a grin.
"Oh, speaking of strong, independent women sir, Ensign Thorne said for you to meet her in the mess hall for breakfast." The sniper added.
"She sounded…kind of annoyed when she said it too." Lago added. Tharcourt sighed inwardly. That could not possibly be a good sign.
"Oh very well…" He droned, doing his best impression of an uninterested Firmus Piett. "You men have carte blanche for two days. Use it well. I'm leaving tomorrow morning, and you'll be under Thorne until I get back."
"Yes sir." Daraay stated.
"Loud and clear, sir." Felian nodded.
"Buy your ladyfriend something nice, corporal." Drakken advised. "And make sure you make that delivery for me before you head off." He added, alluding to the weapons he had seized during their last mission. It was a scheme known only to himself, Ekks and Freya. They were covertly caching arms, credits, rations and clothing on an out-of-the-way meteoroid with a breathable atmosphere; what Tharcourt envisioned as a private resupply dump for the team during any future missions where it may be necessary to reoutfit in a hurry.
"Yessir, bossman." Ekks saluted, and Drakken gave a final look at the troopers in the room before leaving to find Thorne.
She sat at a corner table in the cafeteria, sipping on a cup of hot tea. Freya was not in a good mood this morning, and part of her resented that alone. She hated being in a bad mood, especially early in the day. She couldn't help but to still be cross with Drakken after last night though, and she knew what was coming. She knew she had forced his hand, and there would be a talk. The nature of the upcoming confrontation was still unknowable, but it would happen. He would be leaving tomorrow, and she wanted this to happen before he ran off with that pink-haired strumpet of an ISB agent.
Thorne swirled the liquid in her cup and pursed her lips in thought. What would he say? Would Drakken Tharcourt break down and confess his feeling for her? Kiss her and be hers forever and ever? Probably not. It was Drakken. He would likely make a bunch of awkward excuses, and she would have to pry from him what he truly felt and meant. Then he would probably get angry. Then what? She frowned. Would he actually go as far as have her transferred if she pushed too hard, delved to deep? Was it worth the risk? Freya rested her cheek on her hand. It was…if just to know for sure what existed between them.
"Oh…um…good morning, Freya." His voice came meekly. She glanced over as Drakken sat beside her.
"Mornin' Drakken." She greeted. She scoffed. "Ye know, ye always sit t' the left o' me." He looked about as if it were just now registering.
"Hm. You're right."
"Any reason?"
"Well…if I were into all that psychological stuff, I'd say that I probably see you as my right-hand…you know, my trusted second."
"Ah. Makes sense…" She muttered, and took a drink of her tea. "I'm yer number one henchman."
"Oh come on…it's not like that, and you know it…" He grumbled, and took a sip from his cup of caf.
"Nae…I don't right well know it." She said back. "I been all mucked up in the 'ead tryin' t' figure out wot exactly I am fer some bloody time." She looked over and saw the concerned look on his face, and knew how hard it must be for a man like him to confront all of this. It had to be done though. She was tired of waiting for him to stop dodging the obvious. "I s'pose that's why I did wot I did last night."
"Yeah…" He growled, and took a long drink of caf. "Yeah, I get that, believe it or not."
"I'm not too awful sorry fer it neither, Drakken." She admitted. "Nor fer 'ow I feel."
"I…I get that too, I suppose." He sighed. "And I guess we have to have a talk."
"I guess we do."
"Well…no sense in facing it on empty stomachs…" He shrugged. "Let's get something to eat." She stared him in the eyes, and Drakken blinked first. "We'll talk in the office…in private."
They sat in the office, the hatch locked. Thorne had her chair wheeled alongside his, and for a few moments, they sat facing one another, neither saying anything. Drakken took off his gloves and placed them on his desk. Then his cap followed them. As he sat his headwear upon his desk, Freya reached out and placed a hand gently on top of his. They met eyes for a moment, and she gave the faintest hint of a smile.
"I want ye t' know that no matter what happens, Drakken Tharcourt…yer still me best mate." She said in a low voice. "I don't think anything could e'er be changin' that." He nodded solemnly. "I'm fond o' ye. I done told ye that, and I know you care about me too…e'en if you have a feck of a time showin' it."
"Freya…" He croaked, and cleared his throat. "My caring about you…and I do care…more than you know….is not what's in question. I have…certain feelings for you, yeah…I'm attracted, I admit it." He huffed. "And that's the problem. You're right, we can't go on without facing it."
"I need to know, Drakken me darlin'…is there any chance fer us?" She threw it out there, right out of the gate, with tears in her eyes, and Tharcourt looked like he had just witnessed horror incarnate. His mouth opened, and he closed it just as quickly.
"Freya…I wish…you hadn't asked me that." He whispered, and she thought he looked on the verge of tears. "Sometimes…I think…I wish we could." He confessed.
"Then why?" She asked. "What is stopping it?"
"Our jobs?" He said it like a question. "Rules? Laws?"
"Drakken…people's a datin' and shackin' up and shaggin' all the time outside the regulations. Nobody gives a tinker's damn." She argued.
"Yeah? Well they don't have Lord Vader breathing down their necks." He shot back. "I swear I think he's just looking for a reason to kill both of us. You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Freya's eyes widened a moment.
"Ya…I'll give ye that one…" She sighed. "But ye really think e'd 'ave our 'eads for datin'…I mean so long as we're killin' off the rebels?"
"Ugh…I don't know…" Drakken groaned. "I don't know anything, alright?" Thorne crossed her arms over her chest and gave a pouting look. "I know that if one or the other of us quits our post, we might have a shot at at…I dunno. I don't think it would be a good idea…"
"Wh…why fer pity's sake not?" She implored.
"You're…you're like the best damned friend I ever had, Freya." Tharcourt said. "I know I ain't good with touchy-feely rubbish, but there it is. I love spending time with you. I've never felt so…at home with anybody." He slapped his desk, then pointed a finger at her. "And I'll tell you something…the best way to crink up a perfectly good friendship is to throw love and lust in there. I tried the whole romance game when I was younger, and you know how that turned out?"
"How?"
"Well, imagine a dead, bloated purrgil laying on a sunbaked planet, and some dumb-as-hell junior officer comes up and poked it with a vibro-lance. That's how it ended for me. Best to leave it dead and rotten than to walk away covered in its guts."
"Fer feck sake Drakken…" Freya nearly cried out. "Yer equatin' love to a festerin' carcass?!"
"I'm saying that I don't really want a relationship…with anybody." He stated. She narrowed her eyes. "If I were to want one, it'd probably be with…you know…" He rubbed his face. "But dammit we can't. I can't. I know what it means to you, but we can't." He stopped, and stared out into nothingness for a few silent seconds. "I'm sorry…Freya…I really am." He felt terrible saying that, like he had just committed some flagrant crime, and was now feeling guilty about it.
Freya wiped tears from her eyes. She felt devastated. She understood where he was coming from, and respected his feelings. If this talk had doomed any chance of her being with him, it had at least led to Drakken admitting his own feelings and being honest about where they stood. All of the mystery, all of the uncertainty had been torn away. Maybe not in the way she had hoped, but all the same, she could now stop worrying about it. She watched as he propped his forehead up on his palms and sniffed.
"You alright, Freya?" He finally asked. She almost broke out in tears. Here was Drakken, looking like he had just killed somebody's pet tooka, the man obviously trying to keep himself from crying. Yet he asked her if she was okay. This is one of the things she found most lovely about him; he was always willing to put his own misery to the side to make sure the people he cared about were alright. She rolled closer and hugged him.
"I'm fine, Drakken." She said softly. "Well, maybe not the sunniest of days I e'er had, but I'm not mad at ye. I'm glad we sorted this shite out. Are you okay?"
"I'll manage." He huffed.
"Friends?"
"Friends, Freya." He answered, and gently touched his forehead to hers. "Always."
"Mm." She smiled. "An' that makes all of this mess more palat'ble, me darlin'."
"Hm. More than a bloated purrgil at least." He said, and Thorne lightly slapped the back of his head.
"Ah, ye tosser." She said with a small laugh. "So, now that we 'ave the big bad talk out a' the way…wot else we 'ave goin' on today?"
"Well…I figured out that I have no idea how to pack for this mission. I have to swallow my pride and ask Major Veruna what I need to bring for the field trip." He rolled his eyes.
"Oh alright. Want me to get out yer hair?"
"No…you can stay. She doesn't throw herself at me as bad when you're in the room for some odd reason." Drakken said with a cynical expression. Freya didn't find it as funny. At least she was now somewhat comforted by the fact that if he didn't want a relationship with her, he certainly wouldn't pursue one with the ISB agent.
"Well call her then." Thorne shrugged. Tharcourt sent a call through, and within moments, a hologram of the major appeared on his desk, a smile on her lips.
"Well hello, Tharcourt." Veruna greeted. "Call to tell me how much you're looking forward to our adventure?"
"Um…not really." Drakken answered.
"Oh." Zala mock-pouted. "Well then, like to what do I owe this pleasure? Oh, hi there Thorne. How are you, sweetie?"
"I'm…tolerable, ma'am." Freya replied.
"Oh you're always more than tolerable to the eye, honey." Veruna said with a wink.
"I wanted to contact you to ask…" Tharcourt interrupted. "What do I need to bring in terms of gear, uniforms, that sort of thing?"
"Ah, no uniform." Veruna stated quickly. "This has to be conducted as…covertly as possible, you know? Bring your chain-code and identifier of course, but come in civilian clothing. You show up dressed in your uniform, it might screw the whole thing."
"Okay…"
"Do your bounty hunter thing." She offered. "It'll blend in great where we're going. And I'm sure you'll look amazing."
"How I look is the last thing I'm worried about." Tharcourt mumbled.
"To each their own." Zala shrugged. "I totally love looking good when I kill somebody."
"I just…you know, wear any old thing, I guess." Drakken shrugged apathetically.
"Hm. Well like, wear something…appropriate." Veruna said. "We're going to be in the cesspool of civilization, so keep that in mind. You want to blend in."
"So, look like a complete scoundrel and carry at least five weapons, got it." Drakken replied, only half-joking.
"See? You got it, sweetie." The flirty intelligence agent said with a smile. Freya rolled her eyes. Why did Veruna have to be so…much?
"So nix the regulation stuff and just wing it." Drakken sighed. "Alright. I can do that." He ran a hand through his messy black hair.
"Don't worry so much, Drakken." She reassured him. "You're with me on this one. Everything will be fine." He gave her a forced smile. "I'll see you tomorrow evening at 1900. You have the location, right?"
"I do…and I'll be there." He stated.
"Okay, if that's all, I hate to be mean, but I really gotta get back to work. This arms dealer is killing me." She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. "Wait…stop, rewind and reverse that." She giggled. "I'll see you tomorrow, Drakken. Ciao!" With that, the transmission shut off.
"Oh dank farric, what did I get myself into?!" Tharcourt groaned, laying his head in his arms.
"Me ol' wan used t' say 'tis not what ye got yerself into, it's getting' yerself out that matters'." Freya offered. "Ye just worry about getting' yerself back in one piece, preferably an undamaged un, and I'll be happy." She thought for a moment. "An try not to do anything ye'll hate yerself fer in th' mornin'."
"Lovely advice, Freya…seeing as I'm going on a black-op with ISB…and her at that." He huffed. "We're probably taking out the leader of the rebels or blowing up some secret base or something, for kriff's sake."
"Well, if that's the bloody case, the war'll be over before you get back now, won't it?" Thorne said cheerfully.
"Void, you really are a chipper person, aren't you?" Drakken commented with a small smile. "You were a very happy child, weren't you?"
"Oh aye. Ne'er lost me sense of wonder, I don't think." She answered, and spun about in the desk chair. "An' wot about you? I can jus' imagine lil' baby Drakken a grumblin' and blindin' about his porridge bein' too cold, an barkin' out orders at his wee lil' toys."
"I was a happy child…I guess." He said defensively. "I mean, I hated being rich…didn't get on well with my parents…oh, and I kept running away from home, but yeah, I think I was pretty satisfied as a kid."
"Ye ran away from hame?" Freya remarked excitedly.
"What? You said you did too." Tharcourt reminded her.
"Aye, but I ne'er heard any o' yer wild adventures."
"Well throw the notion of wild right out of the airlock." Tharcourt waved. "The first time I ran off, my father's valet found me camped out behind the house. I stole a whole roast, a bag of fruit and a pitcher of tea, and thought I was set for life." Freya laughed until she snorted. "The second time, I was at least a little smarter, I think. I put on raggedy clothes, and tried to live on the street, panhandling."
"You didn't!"
"I did. And I made about twenty credits and a bowl of soup doing it. I think that was about the only time I thought my father was going to actually hit me."
"How old were you?" She asked in amazement.
"Like ten, I think." He responded. "They weren't so miffed when I went on a week-long hunting trip with some boys I knew, a couple of sons of some of the local soldiers. I didn't tell my parents I was going, of course. That was the first time I ever shot anything. I brought it back home, and my dad almost went critical mass when I walked through the door. My uncle Merrik was there though, and saved my backside. He told my father that at least I had worked hard for something, and it was good training for business. Funny thing is, the old ass bought it. I still got a stern lecture though."
"Och Drakken…ye were a lil' hellraiser when you was a kid, weren't ye?" She giggled. He was chuckling a bit himself now.
"Nah. That wasn't until I hit thirteen and got arrested for painting a very unflattering image of the head of the CIS on a government building. Those seps didn't have a sense of humor." He shrugged. "Maybe if I'd left out the fangs…or hadn't made him look like some evil wizard, I could've gotten away with it being called 'art'."
"Yer lucky you didn't get shot!" Freya exclaimed.
"Damn…I would have if I hadn't been from the most powerful banking family on the planet." He said irritably. "Think I'd rather have been shot."
"Ugh…believe it or not, I know exactly wot ye mean, love." Freya sighed. "Ye don't think bein' the daughter of a clan chieftain don't be comin' with it's own set a' bothers?"
"I…I wouldn't know." Drakken answered. "I assume it's about as bad as my case?"
"Well…when yer daddy is the head of aboot nine hundred and eighty-one and a half square kilometers, and somewhere around fifty-thousands of people…yeah…I got weird looks." Drakken started to speak, but his mouth simply hung open for a time.
"Wh…you're serious…"
"See wot I mean?" She gestured toward him. Drakken shook his head.
"Damn." He said. "And I thought I had problems." They looked at each other a moment, then both burst out in laughter. They calmed down a bit finally, and Freya smiled warmly and kicked her feet.
"I'm glad I left though." She said quietly. "I was regrettin' it fer a while…but…then I met you. Now I'm here…and I'm sure I made the right choice there." Tharcourt nodded.
"So am I." He said. She placed her forehead against his.
"Ye come back, Drakken Tharcourt…ye hear me? Come back from yer mission…to me, an to yer merry band o' hooligans. Don't think we can make a go of it without you."
"I will, Freya." He whispered. "You know I will."
So...yeah. Drakken just told Freya no. And he's about to go on a mysterious, cloak-and-dagger mission with our favorite ISB officer. And apparently, he was a little rebel when he was a kid. Quite a bit to digest for a filler chapter, eh? When I return with the next installment, we get to see Drakken flying solo (heh-heh, see what I did there?") for the first time, and on a far different type of mission than he is used to...and in different surroundings than his usual environments. So tune in next time, loyal readers. Until then, Cheerio!