Odessen
Alliance Base

"Congrats, vod. You're dead." Fynta sat in a narrow backed chair, hands working on controls that Balic couldn't see, while Theron shouted orders from somewhere behind her.

Cormac grinned at his old friend. He'd known this call was coming from the moment that Vector concluded his report to the Republic military. Now that the gears were in motion, they'd be able to move forward with the next part of the plan. Balic would see his family soon. This would work. It had to work.

"Glad to hear it, boss," Cormac stamped down the desire to join Fynta on the battlefield. He'd been given permission to move around with the leg brace that Oggurrobb had created, but no one could say when he'd fight again. "How long until my grieving widow comes to claim my remains?" Everything they'd done had been so he could see Elara and Tayl again.

"Working on that part," Fynta answered as she pulled back, then cackled like a madwoman. Theron complained in the background, teetering into the shot before vanishing out the other side with a curse. Cormac was about to ask what was going on when Fynta swore. "Fierfek. Gotta go."

The call cut out just as Cormac turned a corner that led back up to the main base. The conversation made him miss the action and adrenaline rush, the feeling of being a part of something greater than himself. Balic shook his head and reminded himself that he wasn't useless yet, even if he couldn't be in the field.

Cormac had used his ample free time to help in the creche. The influx of support for the Alliance brought larger numbers of children, too. Noara, the little Jedi that Fynta adopted, had drafted him when she was short handed one day. Balic had needed something to keep his mind from slipping into brooding. If he stopped smiling, it would be too difficult to start again. Cormac was a firm believer in the healing power of laughter, and a lot of people in the Alliance needed that boost.

The kids were great, but Cormac missed the old days of brotherhood. His new life lacked the sense of purpose he'd gained from rushing through a hail of blaster bolts with a single objective in mind. Cormac sighed and made the final climb towards his quarters, squashing those thoughts before they could drag him down.

Balic nodded to a familiar engineer as he passed. He couldn't recall the man's name, but knew that he'd remember later. They had shared a few beers not long ago. Just sitting at the same bar and ended up talking. He'd spoken about Elara and Tayl, bragging on his family the way any man should, and Lance─.

Lance, Balic snapped his fingers with a grin, that was the man's name. He'd mentioned a son too. One who still fought for the Republic in a war that no one believed in, against trifling enemies compared to the Eternal Empire. Lance's wife had passed some years ago, but he'd found a new lady on Odessen who he was trying to gather the courage to approach. Balic wondered if the man ever had.

The comm in Balic's pocket vibrated, and he fished it out with one hand. "Cormac here."

"Sergeant." Vector Hyllus gazed up from Cormac's palm. He was a decent man, a little odd, but Cormac liked him. Vector had ferried messages to and from Elara and kept them appraised of her condition. She would never admit to Balic how hard things were, so he'd been forced to outsource to Imperial spies. "We have spoken with your wife, she wishes a word with you."

Cormac's good mood sank beneath a torrent of fear. "Is she alright?" Shaking the question off, Balic switched gears. "Thanks, mate, I'll call her straight away."

Disconnecting the call without a farewell, Cormac hurried to his room. He couldn't call Elara in the middle of the hallway with so many people around. No one else knew that she was slipping them information, and he wouldn't do anything that put her at risk.

The leg brace made running more difficult, but Cormac managed. He'd had one on each leg last week, along with a support on his hips to aid with walking. After his skin turned wrinkly in kolto tanks, the medics had moved Cormac down to just the one. He wished the damn had more flex so that he didn't look like a newborn rancor learning how to walk for the first time.

Finally reaching his room, Cormac rummaged under the cushions for the encrypted holo and dialed Elara. Her perfect face filling his vision banished the panic that had tightened his gut. "Hey, doll. Heard that I missed your call."

"I was worried," Elara admitted, her image expanding to reveal a woman who'd changed into more comfortable clothing after arriving home from work. She wore one of his sweaters, the SpecForce one that Fynta had special ordered because the quartermaster didn't carry his size. Seeing her there, with hair down and settled into her favorite chair, made a knot rise in Balic's throat. Damn, he missed that woman. "How are you?"

Cormac followed Elara's lead, lowering himself to the sofa and casting a look at the door to make sure that it was locked. "Doing good, I was down in the creche with the younglings. Service is shit there, so I left this one at home. Won't happen again."

Elara lifted a hand with a tight smile. "It's fine. Malcom released me from work early, and I needed to speak with you. Being told that you were dead was...more traumatic than expected."

"I'm here, doll. Hale and mostly whole." Elara forced a tight smile, fingers fidgeting with a loose thread in the blanket on her lap. Balic studied his wife, noting dark circles that the blue hues of her holo couldn't hide. "What's on your mind? Take a moment to unburden yourself, let me feel useful."

Elara tangled the thread around her fingers, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Cormac wanted to prompt her to continue, but knew better. She'd get it out in time, Elara rarely spoke before sorting her thoughts. Balic used the time to memorize her features, the sharp angles that spoke of high birth and supple lines of her lips. Had it really been almost a year since he'd last held her?

"I've kept something from you," Elara finally admitted, voice quiet and eyes averted. "From all of you."

"I'm sure you had your reasons," Cormac started, then stopped when her frown intensified. "What is it?"

Elara scowled at the blanket a moment longer. "I intercepted a message meant for Major Jorgan, not intentionally, but it bore some startling news." Cormac nodded, though his stomach had begun to cramp again. Elara never beat around the bush, whatever was in that message had her noticeably upset.

Letting out a long breath, Elara plunged ahead. "The Republic has revoked Aric's parental rights. They are reclaiming custody of Shillet." Cormac sat in stunned silence for so long that Elara stood and went to the kitchen to make tea. Her movements were jerky and as close to slamming cabinet doors as he'd ever seen her.

Cormac's chest felt too tight to breath, the fear that everything was falling to pieces again crept up the back of his neck. "Can they do that," he finally managed to ask.

Elara returned to her chair, cup nestled in both hands, but she didn't lift it to her mouth. "I've exhausted every avenue, and there isn't a lawyer in the system that will touch her case." Her shaky voice sounded on the verge of tears. "Now, I fear that I've waited too long to tell Aric."

Cormac sat forward, his instinct to make everything better taking over before he could beat it down. "How long do we have left?" While Jorgan might be on the girl's certificate, Havoc had raised Shillet as a team. If one lost her, they all did. Another thought jumped into Balic's mind, Tayl would be crushed. "Do the kids know?"

Elara shook her head before answering. "Seventeen days. It's time that I confessed my omission to the major. Do you know when he'll return?"

Throat tight, Cormac tried and failed to swallow. Seventeen days. His skin felt hot, like patches of fire racing up his neck and face. "They are on Voss trying to find Arcann. Who knows how long it'll take." The urge to do something, anything, overwhelmed Cormac to the point that he almost hung up on Elara to seek out answers. He forced himself to stay rooted to the cushion. "You've got to tell her, doll. The girl needs to prepare herself."

"I know," Elara admitted. "Lying is more difficult when it is to those you care for."

There were times when Cormac forgot how wonderfully different his wife's brain worked. He'd been away too long and forgotten the simple joy of watching Elara sort through everyday dilemmas. Lying was easy for everyone else, but Elara had to force it. Her shoulders sagged. "I'm afraid of how she will react."

Cormac leaned forward to touch his wife before remembering that he couldn't. "Tell her that we'll make it work. Now that Fynta's back, she won't let anything happen to Shillet."

They sat in silence for a bit, each lost to their own thoughts, until Elara sighed. "Tayl will be home soon, and I've kept this line open for too long."

Cormac hated this part, saying goodbye without knowing when he'd hear from her again. "Maybe we can talk later, I'd love to say hey to him."

A slight smile broke through Elara's misery, illuminating her features and breathing life back into the woman wilting under too much stress. "He would love that." She hesitated, toying with the loose string again. "Please keep me updated on Fynta and Aric's ETA."

"Of course, love," Cormac responded. "I'll talk to you soon. I love you, and the kids. Make sure that they know, okay?"

"I will." The familiar weight of emptiness pressed on Cormac when Elara's image vanished. He looked around the spartan room and sighed. Balic missed the laughter and noise that came from having a family. Of Tayl and Shillet running down the hall while Jorgan fussed at them about not breaking things. He wanted to arm wrestle with Xaban, or watch Abbeth scold Torg about leaving his laundry out.

Most of Cormac's memories from the Spire were hazy, and he thought that might be for the best. Better to live with the fond memories of their lives than the guilt that haunted Jorgan. Cormac pushed those thoughts from his mind before doing the same to his body. It took a lot more effort than he liked to lever his mass off the sofa, but when he finally did, an idea struck.

There was more than one person on this base who might have the kind of pull to set things right for Shillet. Cormac just had to find them. His shoulders straightened with purpose, and his mood lifted at the prospect of having a mission again. With luck, he could have a plan in the works by the time Fynta and Aric got home.

Voss
North Plateau

Jorgan ducked behind a smoking speeder, reappeared in sync with his soldiers, and peppered the wave of advancing Skytroopers. With each line they slagged, another took its place. Scattered across the plateau, Jorgan marked the whirling, colorful blades of Sith and Jedi as they battled at close range. He had fifteen Force users in his count, but others had come to their aid when the battle raged hotter than expected.

Dropping back to check his ammo, Aric noticed the flashing light in the corner of his HUD. Relief washed over him at the sight of Fynta's icon. "Jorgan," he answered before peeking over his shelter to pick off targets that had broken away from the main group. His rifle whined with a build up of pressure before expelling the bolt with enough force to tear through a target three hundred yards down range.

"Hey, riduur, how are you holding up?" Fynta's voice filled Jorgan's helmet, bolstering his energy. He'd give anything to have a visual, but he couldn't afford the distraction.

An explosion echoed over the comm from Fynta's side before Aric could answer, causing his finger to stutter on the trigger. "What was that?"

"See that line of walkers?" Fynta asked. Jorgan risked standing taller to spy a row of small, dark figures advancing up the hill. They'd cut across his troops on their current heading. "Look to the east."

Jorgan did as commanded, jaw going slack. "Is that─" He magnified the image, momentarily distracted from the battle raging around him. A pale grey walker stomped towards the line, crushing everything in its path and loosing random volleys of artillery on the surrounding Skytroopers. Fynta's diabolical chuckle followed each explosion.

Jorgan watched the spectacle until the persistent tapping on his leg plate reminded him that they were in the middle of a firefight. Dropping into a squat, Aric didn't bother disguising the amusement in his voice. "Who the hell let you behind the stick of a tactical walker?"

"Torian," Fynta answered with a laugh. "I'm pretty sure that Verin had something to do with it. Theron doesn't approve."

Jorgan opened his mouth to suggest something unkind for the spy when a bolt punched through the chassis of the speeder. He returned fire and settled for a gruff retort. "Don't have too much fun without me."

"Hey," Fynta's voice dropped an octave, even if her volume didn't. "Do you remember that little guest house?"

"How could I forget?" Voss had been the first time that Jorgan and Fynta shared a room outside of the Thunderclap. He and Cormac had switched out each night after the others went to bed. Yuun almost caught the Cathar once when he was too slow to get up the following morning, then they'd realized that no one in Havoc squad cared how they spent their free time. Voss held a lot of fond memories, and knowing that Fynta still remembered them made the moment more poignant.

"Think it's still standing?" Fynta asked with a suggestive pause.

Jorgan smirked, sighting up on a battle droid trying to flank Fynta's walker. "We should check once this mess is sorted." He squeezed the trigger and watched the droid self-destruct.

"Deal," Fynta answered with a sly laugh. "Alright, walkers and battle captains have been cleared. I'll leave you to mop up. Be careful riduur—fierfek."

"Fynta?" Jorgan's heart seized when her feed cut out, leaving him with only garbled gibberish for several paralyzing seconds. When it picked up again, it was with a string of Mando'a that was probably accompanied by creative hand gestures. Aric willed his pulse to kick start. "What happened?"

Theron muttered something in the background that Jorgan couldn't pick out, and Fynta sounded like she'd run three klicks when she answered. "Big walker blocking my path. Chakaar. Time to see what this baby can do. Wish me luck." The comm in Jorgan's helmet clicked to warn that he'd lost the call. He peeked over the speeder to see what else he could vent his frustration on when a heavy weight thumped into the dirt next to him, pulling Jorgan's attention away from the battle.

"Sir." The woman who belonged to that voice could have been anyone. Jorgan didn't recognize her nameplate, though the insignia was Republic Armed Forces. "Wellingford's been hit. He's asking for you."

Shit. Wellingford was one of Aygo's men, an old friend on loan as Jorgan's XO for the assault. Nodding for the woman to lead the way, Jorgan followed at a squat while blaster bolts pocked the landscape around them. The man was propped in the shade of a broken building, helmet set to the side while a young soldier knelt next to him.

Jorgan positioned himself on the opposite side so as not to impede the medic and took the man's hand. His grey hair was stained by blood, though Jorgan couldn't see the origin. Wellingford winced. "Sir, we got intelligence, I—" He hissed when the medic pressed a hand against his left side. Jorgan noted a disturbing amount of blood leaking between the gloved fingers.

With his free hand, Jorgan removed his helmet so that Wellingford would see more than an expressionless visor in his final moments. It was a lesson he'd learned from Fynta. One that he'd taken to heart long before they'd fallen into bed together.

Wellingford swallowed, took a slow breath, then nodded towards the charred form that might have been humanoid. "Gerald heard it a moment before they hit us. Vaylin's got a new weapon. Voss...is—" His breathing became erratic, eyes squeezing tight enough to push tears from their corners. Then, his fingers went limp in Jorgan's hand. Aric didn't need the medic's resigned head shake to know that it was too late. Wellingford had done his duty until the end.

Jorgan sighed and looked to the soldiers gathered around. "Any idea what he was talking about?"

No one responded. Jorgan reached for his helmet, pausing when the medic tipped his face shield towards the sky. Jorgan mirrored the move when a shadow fell over them. Standing, Aric found himself staring at the bottom of a massive ship riding too low in Voss's atmosphere.

"Vaylin's flagship." Jorgan wasn't sure how he knew, or even who he was speaking to, but the two, oversized cannons mounted beneath it were large enough to be seen without magnification. They swung around and aimed towards the plateau. Wellingford's warning rang like an alarm in the back of Jorgan's mind. He needed to move.

Time slowed as Jorgan's gaze took in the troops scattered across the killing field. Visions of losing Havoc in the Spire rose to the surface, smothering the order to retreat. He found the words at the same moment that the cannons convulsed. The ground lifted beneath his feet, then he heard the explosion.

Coruscant
Residential Sector
Apartment 7865

Shillet kicked her dresser as she stomped across the room, fists clenched at her side. A soft knock followed the sound after a moment, but the girl ignored it. Everything outside that door was a lie, everything that she'd been promised for years had been ripped away, and no one bothered to warn her. They'd all lied to her. Stupid adults.

"Shillet, darling please speak to me." Elara's smooth accent didn't ease the pounding in Shillet's chest. She'd always looked at the former Imperial as a mother figure, the one woman who would never turn her away. It didn't matter that this wasn't her choice, Elara had given up. Shillet wasn't supposed to have to worry about going into the system, not after Aric had signed the paperwork to make her legally his daughter.

"Go away." The words were shouted through tears and hatred that Shillet didn't understand. She was angry because they were going to take her away. It wasn't Elara's fault, but who else could she yell at? Aric was parsecs away, fighting a war to save the galaxy. Balic had been wounded and was just as far out of reach. The others were—Shillet swallowed and made herself finish the thought. The others were dead.

Elara's shoes clicked against the hard wood as she retreated. Fear swelled inside Shillet, amplifying the isolation creeping in. She was going into the system, sent to live with strangers who might despise her. Or maybe a home for cast offs like herself. No one wanted a troubled youth with an aggression warning in her school file. She'd never see Tayl again. Who'd look after him at school? Frantic thoughts chased themselves around in her mind until Shillet thought she'd be sick.

There had to be a way to stop this. She'd run away, steal some credits while everyone slept and use the skills that she'd learned from Aleksei to hitch a ride to Odessen. She'd planned it out once before but had lost her nerve at the last minute. She was older now, practically an adult, she could do this.

Shillet snatched her satchel from beneath the bed and started throwing clothes into it. She packed a first aid kit, feeling more prepared by being mature enough to consider it. Maybe she could bribe smugglers to get her as far as Wild Space. Surely the people out there would know where to find Odessen. They'd try to take advantage and swindle her, but Shillet would pack a holdout blaster. She knew blaster safety and had been to the range countless times with Havoc. She could protect herself.

Or, maybe Aric will come get you.

Shillet set the shirt down on her pack, then lowered onto the bed beside it. Her father would come for her, right? He'd promised that finding his wife didn't change anything between them. If Shillet told him what was happening, he would solve all her problems.

Snatching her comm, Shillet dialed Aric's frequency. It rang for what felt like forever, giving clarity time to bleed back into fear. When he didn't answer, Shillet hung up and dialed again. This was an emergency, she'd just keep calling until he realized it. By the third try, Aric would understand that something was wrong. He'd answer no matter what.

Five attempts later, it finally registered with Shillet that something had to be keeping Aric from answering. Panic tightened her stomach. Had he been captured? Killed? Maybe he did know and couldn't bear to tell her that he wasn't coming back, so he ignored her.

They'll expect him to come for me, Shillet realized when the call rolled to voicemail again. This could all be a trap to lure her father back to the Republic where he would be sentenced to death for desertion and treason.

The call chimed that Shillet could speak her message. She started to hang up, but stopped with her finger over the command. Aric couldn't come back, and they both knew it. If this was a conscious decision, it would tear him apart. Shillet wouldn't let him carry that guilt. On the off chance that he didn't know, she wanted to make sure that he understood how much she'd cherished their time together.

"Hi dad," Shillet began, slumping under the finality of her decision. "You're probably busy, so don't worry about calling me back. I just wanted to check in and say—" she swallowed, worried that he might hear the catch in her voice. "Just, thanks for everything. You're the best father any girl could ask for. I love you."

Shillet hung up before tears could make themself heard. Too long and he'd be suspicious anyway, or she'd ramble and ruin the moment. Shillet tucked the comm into her pack, then slid the entire thing under her bed. She wouldn't run, she'd stay and make her father proud.

Shillet's courage wavered, opening the way for an overwhelming need for a mother's comfort and the feel of protective arms around her. It might be the last time she had that option. Standing, Shillet palmed open the door and started for the kitchen where Elara's kettle whistled. The woman wiped quickly at her eyes when Shillet rounded the corner. The idea of such a strong woman shedding tears for her cracked whatever resolve Shillet had managed and she dissolved into sudden, choking sobs.

Elara's arms surrounded Shillet faster than she'd have thought possible. The woman hummed a gentle tune, stroking Shillet's head tresses while ignoring the moisture that soaked through her shirt. When Shillet felt like she'd cried her last, Elara cupped her cheeks and looked her in the eyes. "No matter what, I will get you back. Understand?"

Shillet nodded and tried to look away, but Elara caught her chin. "That means no foolishness. I need to know where you are when the time comes."

The urge to grin at someone knowing her so well almost drove Shillet's misery away, but the feeling was fleeting. Elara's tone gentled. "Would you like to sleep with me tonight?" She did, but Shillet couldn't admit to that. She needed to get used to being on her own, but instead of declining, Shillet's accepting nod betrayed her. Elara smiled. "Very well. Go change and prepare for bed. I'll get your pillows. Shall we invite Tayl and stay up late?"

"Yeah." Shillet wiped the back of her sleeve across her nose. "With snacks and movies."

"Deal." As Elara pulled away, Shillet understood that the woman wasn't like a mother at all, she was her mother. With that revelation came the security of knowing that this separation wouldn't last forever. Somehow, Elara would find a way to regain custody. Surely, Aric would help.

Thoughts of running away felt suddenly foolish in the aftermath of such unconditional love. Shillet had parents who cared about her, however strangely they fit together. She would get through this, just one more bad memory in a lifetime of loss.

Footnote: If you're new to the story, more details about Havoc's exploits on Voss can be found in Family is more than Blood, chapter 27 &28.