Voss
Shrine of Healing

Theron rubbed both hands down his face in frustration while Lana and Fynta argued over their next steps. The entire mission had been a massive cluster fuck from start to finish. Senya was still unconscious, Voss lay in ruins, and Arcann had escaped. If there was a worse way to end the day, Theron couldn't imagine it.

At least we managed to turn Vaylin back, Theron thought. Though, not before she torched half the planet. The major cities had been reduced to rubble and the forests cast plumes of smoke into the air high enough to be seen for miles. The once beautiful world would take decades to recover. But the Voss and Gormack are finally working together. Okay, that wasn't bad.

Theron's back pocket vibrated, and for a moment, he felt a thrill of hope that Zolah or Vector was contacting him. He could use one of Vector's motivational chats or a dose of Zolah's biting humor. "What the—" Theron ran the unknown frequency through his encryption program, then blinked in confusion at the readout. "Uh, Fynta?"

"What," the woman snapped in a way that led Theron to believe that she was losing the argument with Lana.

Theron ignored Fynta's acerbic tone. "I've got an incoming call from the Sith fleet." When her brow rose, he emphasized the next words so that she would pay attention. "It's Empress Acina."

"Osikla," Fynta spat as Theron forwarded the call to the T-5 unit stationed at the base camp.

Acina had taken charge of the Sith Empire and kept it from tearing itself apart in the vacuum left by Vitiate's departure. The woman flickered into existence, hands clasped behind her back and garbed full battle gear. Theron moved to Fynta's side, staring at the image in mute astonishment. Lana smirked and raised one hand to mime pushing Fynta's jaw shut when the commander didn't manage a witty greeting either.

"Greetings, Commander." Acina sounded cheerful, an emotion Theron would never have attributed to a Sith seven years ago. She spoke with the same amusement that often colored Lana's voice, carrying a warm smile with the words. "It is an honor to finally speak to you."

"Uh, right." Fynta shook herself, then glanced at the sky where the Alliance and Imperial fighters were picking off the remnants of Vaylin's fleet. "Thanks for the assist, your timing couldn't have been better."

Acina tipped her head in that regal way Imperials had. "I hope this is the beginning of a mutually beneficial relationship between the Empire and your Alliance." The empress rolled her shoulders, slipping into negotiations with an ease that Theron admired. "The Sith are tired of being crushed under the Eternal Empire's boot. We wish to join your cause."

Theron had to hand it to the Empress; she'd done her homework on the way to gain Fynta's respect. Acina didn't waste time with platitudes or compliments. Instead, she admitted a shortfalling, then suggested a remedy like a soldier. Theron made a mental note to research the woman's previous occupations before she earned the title that made her the most powerful Sith in the Empire.

Fynta stood with her legs shoulder width apart and arms folded, eying Acina. "Are the Sith really up to taking orders from the former commander of Havoc Squad?" Theron felt a strange thrill travel through him at the reminder that Fynta had regained all of her memories. She had become the steadfast leader that he'd known on Rishi, shedding the uncontrollable chaos from before Havoc's influence.

Acina didn't hesitate. "We will follow anyone strong enough to defeat Vaylin." Theron ticked another point in the Empress's favor. She'd used all the right phrasing when speaking to a Mandalorian. "I am proposing an alliance of two, independent powers against a common foe." A smirk tried to worm onto Theron's face, but he beat it down. Vector would be proud of this woman. She tipped her hat to a stronger force without diminishing what her empire could offer. It was beautifully woven.

After that, a few details remained to be ironed out. Fynta, Lana, and Theron would travel to Dromund Kaas at their earliest convenience to brunch with Acina. Plans would be made, resources shared, and treaties signed. It was all very civilized, not at all what Theron had become used to.

Fynta scowled, nodding at the suggestions offered by Lana and Acina. She looked older than Theron remembered, the weight of having the galaxy on her shoulders taking its toll. He realized that this war would finally his friend in the end. Theron decided that he couldn't let that happen, not after all that Fynta had sacrificed already. Of course, he'd never let her know that he felt that way: he'd never hear the end of it.

The call ended, and Fynta clapped her hands. "I hear Dromund Kaas is nice this time of year."

Theron saw the ghost of a smile on Lana's lips before she managed to press it from existence. He couldn't fault her at being pleased to have a way back home. Even if that home was a swampy storm of dark fury. "Pack a raincoat."

Now that the adrenaline from battle and the shock from Acina's truce were wearing off, Theron wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a private place to update Zolah of the most recent events. He rolled his head to relieve some of the tension that had settled in his shoulders during the encounter and sighed. "Guess it couldn't hurt to visit." Lana's smirk grew into a full smile while Fynta squeezed the bridge of her nose.

An alliance with anyone, even Sith, would be better than how things stood now. Soldiers and civilian resources needed to be fed and housed, and Odessen was quickly reaching the red on both. Maybe Theron could get some decent intel to use as bartering material if he decided to return to the Republic. Of course, that would mean leaving Zolah and Vector behind. He veered from that line of thought before it took him down a path he wasn't ready to contemplate. He still hadn't given them an answer about roughing it in Wild Space as a permanent solution.

"I'm curious to see if things have really changed," Lana added with a wistful note. The woman hadn't been home for nearly as long as Theron, and she suffered a similar problem. Notiac wasn't likely to turn Sith, and he didn't think that Lana was ready to give her Jedi up. Theron entertained himself briefly with the thought of Acina and Notiac reaching an agreement on how best to share Lana, then shuddered when those unchecked thoughts went in a direction that he didn't want to.

Theron opened his mouth to change the subject, but the sound of approaching boots and an unfamiliar voice cut him off. "Commander."

Fynta turned towards the soot covered medic jogging in their direction. He looked like he hadn't eaten a proper meal in weeks, and heavy circles under his eyes proved that sleep was a distant memory. When the man reached normal volume distance, he slowed and waved for Fynta to follow. "I need you to come with me, Commander. Major Jorgan has been injured."

The color drained from Fynta's face as she lurched forwards two steps then turned back. "I'll handle the cleanup, see to your husband," Lana assured her before shoving Theron between the shoulder blades. "Go look after her."

The last that Theron heard, Jorgan had been holding the Northern Plateau. He barked orders with all the confidence expected of a veteran with nearly twenty years of combat experience, and—oh shit.

Against his will, Theron's gaze shifted towards the smoking wreckage that had once been the Northern Plateau. He hadn't considered where those black pillars originated, only that Vaylin had done a number on the planet.

Theron slid into a gutted building behind Fynta, nostrils burning from the pungent smell of disinfectant mixed with burnt flesh. His stomach rolled, but Theron made himself look at the carnage. "Where are all these from?"

"All over," the medic answered. "Mostly the plateau. We've still got teams sifting through the wreckage. This way, Commander."

A man in Theron's position rarely saw this side of the battle. He'd never been a frontline soldier. Sure, he'd watched it on screens projected from the armor cameras while conducting an op, even been involved in a few small scale skirmishes, but nothing on this scale. The visceral reality nearly made him run for the exit.

Fynta and the medic carried on like death didn't surround them. Theron knew that they recognized the carnage, and found himself horrified that anyone could become desensitized to this level of suffering. But then, that's why he'd risked Fynta's anger to bring Havoc Squad back, so that she wouldn't have to do it alone. Force knew Fynta never talked to anyone else, not about the things that mattered. Having Zolah and Vector in his life had taught Theron the value of a proper support system. He wondered occasionally how he'd survived so long alone.

"Through here, sir." The medic lifted the sheet that acted as a barrier between beds to provide a modicum of privacy.

Fynta entered ahead of Theron and sucked in a sharp breath. "Fierfek, Aric, what happened?" By the time Theron made it through, she knelt with both hands on the major's legs.

Jorgan hunched on the bed. Something that Theron hoped was mud caked the fur on the right side of his face and neck. Scratches and dings marked his armor, along with globs of earth that clung to every crevice they could find. A rag covered most of the Cathar's face, but the amount of red staining it suggested a head wound. Theron hoped that most of the haggard look would wash off; they couldn't afford to lose Jorgan now.

"Got caught in a blast." Jorgan winced, reaching for Fynta's hand and missing. "The doctor ran some preliminary scans." He caught her fingers on the second try. "Just waiting on the results."

Theron busied himself with the mud covering his jacket, trying not to witness the Cathar's moment of weakness. Fynta rose and lifted the rag. Theron guessed by her grimace that she didn't like what she found. "I told them not to bother you," Aric grumbled when she replaced the cloth.

"You see who they fear more," Fynta answered in the deadpan tone that spoke of an old argument. Then, she slapped his shoulder. "Stop ordering my people not to bother me when you need something."

Theron pressed his lips tighter to avoid showing any sign that he'd overheard. The curtain shifted, admitting a small woman in her mid to late fifties who didn't bother to check her path. She frowned at the datapad in her hands, expecting the flow of traffic to shift around her. Theron realized that she wasn't wrong as he stepped to the side.

"It's not great news," the doctor summarized, looking up from the device. "But, it's not life threatening. At least, not in the immediate sense."

The woman shooed Fynta away, seemingly unaware that she'd just dismissed the commander of the Alliance, and stepped in front of Jorgan. Even with his body positioned on the table, the medic barely reached his eye. "You've got the standard bumps and bruises that we'd expect after a close proximity explosion. That's not something I'd make a habit of, but you already knew that, didn't you?" Gnarled fingers pressed beneath the Cathar's chin as she spoke.

Apparently satisfied that Jorgan's lymph nodes were operational, the doctor reached for the cloth over his face. She pulled apart the edges of the gash above Jorgan's right eye and leaned closer. The Cathar squeezed his lips together in discomfort. "It'll need to be closed, but it's not a priority." She pulled a pen light from her vest and flicked it on. "Okay, major, follow the light."

Theron folded his arms, waiting for the all clear so that he could shuttle Fynta off this planet and on to the next. He assumed that Jorgan would be accompanying them since the pair had been nearly inseparable since Fynta's memories had returned. Not that Theron blamed them; six years was a long time to catch up on.

Theron had pulled out his datapad to begin making arrangements when the doctor spoke again. "Major, can you see the light?" Theron's scalp tightened as he looked up, gaze locking on Fynta's. Primal fear filled her eyes, the image more unsettling than all the wounded bodies around them combined.

"I see it." Jorgan hesitated, brow furrowing at the object in the doctor's hand. "It's blurry though, like looking through water."

The doctor nodded, and loose, grey strands fell free from her bun. "Good." After tucking the light into her vest pocket, the woman picked up her datapad and spoke without looking up. "The pressure from the blast might have damaged your optic nerve. We've seen a lot of this recently. Your helmet can't protect you from the weapons that Vaylin uses. You'll need a proper scan when you reach Odessen, but I'm not overly worried."

Using her finger, the doctor signed her name to something before looking up. "Be sure to follow up with the physicians, Major. While a common injury, it shouldn't be ignored."

Jorgan lifted the rag again when blood trickled into his eye. "What kind of window are we looking at for normal sight?" It hadn't occurred to Theron before that moment that Jorgan's eyesight was essential to his position as a sniper.

"It depends," the woman answered. Her tone wasn't as gruff as before, but not gentle either. "Surgery is a possibility, or it could heal on its own. Only time will tell, and I don't have the equipment available to speculate. My job is to keep you from dying, so…" the doctor held out her arms. "Goal accomplished. A nurse will be around shortly to close that wound, then I suggest that you were on your way."

Turning on her heel, the doctor came face to face with Theron. She scowled until Theron stepped out of her way, then stormed into the fray of medical chaos hidden behind Jorgan's privacy curtain.

Theron turned to comment on the woman's foul mood, but stopped short. Fynta and Jorgan were staring at one another, locked in a silent conversation that looked more intimate than Theron wanted to witness.

"I'll wait outside." Theron ducked into the open waiting area, trying not to see the suffering around him. His thoughts drifted back to Zolah and Vector, wondering if they ever did things like Fynta and Aric's telepathic communication. The memory of his last argument with Zolah via smuggler's cant brought a smile to Theron's face.

A pleasant sensation spread through Theron at the thought of the two Imperial spies. Looking over his shoulder, he decided that he had enough time to contact Zolah and Vector before leaving for Dromund Kaas. They needed to be updated anyway. He was just being prudent.

The Gravestone
Commander's Quarters
En Route to Dromund Kaas

Valkorian's laughter echoed in the dark recesses of Fynta's mind. Visions flitted behind her eyelids: the flash of an explosion outside her shuttle as it hurtled toward the ground, Voss aflame, death and chaos overlaid with Senya's prone body. Then, Arcann disappearing into the clouds.

"You nearly had him," Valkorion whispered. The scene solidified with Arcann on the deck of a shuttle, scarred face contorted with fear and sorrow, almost childlike without the mask that he'd hidden behind for so long. Fynta tried to convince him that his mother was alive, that they could be allies, anything to sow seeds of doubt so that she could get closer.

Aric's curse rang through Fynta's memory. Arcann was gone, nothing more than a black dot on the horizon. Fynta turned to find her husband's furious glare angled towards her instead of the sky. His eyes burned with rage, the right glowing bright red before popping to ooze down his cheek.

Aric jabbed a finger at Fynta, seemingly oblivious to the gore matting his fur, while she couldn't focus on anything else. "You let him escape." The growled words barely registered before he shoved past. "Get it together before we've got to bury this entire, fucking Alliance beside Havoc Squad."

Pain shredded the dream and Fynta woke with a gasp. Movement brought the throb of a migraine but without the sensory overload. It was too quiet, too dark. Turning her head, Fynta sought comfort in her husband only to realize the bed was empty. Despite the agony, she sat up, searching for signs of Aric in the room. Valkorion's low chuckle blended with the frantic pounding of her heart.

Fynta opened her mouth to call out for Aric, but the words stuck in her throat. Old insecurities bubbled to the surface. Valkorion amplified them, bringing each into the light. Aric had left, fed up with Fynta's failings and finally decided that he was better off without her. What had Fynta done for the man, after all? She'd made his life hell, ruined his career from the first day, then gave him the hope of a lifelong companion only to abandon him to loneliness. Then, she forgot him. Leaving her would be no more than she deserved.

Fynta searched the room in case she was wrong. The fresher door was open, but the light was off. She let a trembling hand settle on the cold sheets where her husband should have been. Her chest tightened, making breathing almost too difficult. Tears burned the back of Fynta's eyes as her fingers tangled through the loose strands of her hair. She'd failed again, missed what could have been her last chance to bring Arcann to justice. Vaylin still tantrumed across the galaxy, and Valkorion…

"Fierfek," Fynta gasped, pulling her knees up and pressing her forehead against them. She squeezed her eyes shut, counted her breaths, and forced them in through her nose and out through her mouth.

Each breath brought a modicum of relief, bringing her thoughts under control. Aric's scent, like the forest after a heavy rain, still clung to the sheet draped across her knees. It reminded her of the nights that his presence had soothed whatever dark thing lurked in her heart. Cathar didn't abandon their mates, he'd be back. Fynta knew it.

Warmth spread through Fynta's back and she focused on that point of contact. She barely choked off a sob as familiar fingers slid higher to caress the back of her neck. "Want to talk about it?" Aric's lowered voice sent a shiver through Fynta. She'd almost believed Valkorion this time. It made her long for the days when these dreams were nothing more than vague recollections. Retaining the memory of his psychological torture was much worse. Fynta felt like she was losing her mind.

Fynta unfolded and crawled into her husband's lap as he lowered onto the bed. Her grip was too tight around Aric's neck but he didn't complain. Strong arms encircled Fynta in an embrace that made her feel strong; invincible. She took a shaky breath before leaning back. "Where did you go?"

Aric studied Fynta's face, pushing hair out of the way so that she couldn't hide behind it. He wore a rough, fabric patch over his right eye, a safeguard from light sensitivity and anything else the field medic might have missed. Fynta's fingers brushed the strap above his ear, anger blooming in her chest that he might lose something else because of her.

Lips pressed into a thin line, Aric let out a breath. He hadn't given up on Fynta's panic attack, but let his questions go unasked for now. That was the price of marrying a sniper, they were patient enough to wait for the right moment. "I had a message from Shillet," Aric answered, brow bones tugging into a worried frown while his fingers played with her hair. "I tried to call her back, but no luck."

Fynta clung to the change of topic. She didn't want to talk about Valkorion's taunts. Aric didn't need another thing to worry about. "Is she alright?"

"Not sure," Aric answered, single eye fixed on the far wall, staring at something Fynta couldn't see. She watched his concern grow daily for the young Nautolan, saw the struggle to reach out to her every time he looked at his comm.

The Republic would take their pound of flesh for Havoc's desertion from whoever they had to, and it bothered the Cathar that nothing had come of it yet. Aric sighed. "Her message sounded...off. I can't reach Elara either."

"What time is it on Coruscant," Fynta asked, searching for her chrono with one hand.

Aric sighed and rubbed a hand over his face and head. He winced when the action tugged at the eye patch. "Late. You're right, they're probably asleep."

Despite the admission, Aric sighed and gazed down at the floor. Fynta nestled closer to him and smiled. "I know that look. Come on, out with it."

The growl that Aric released said more than his words ever could. "I wish you'd let me go with you."

Resting her forehead on Aric's shoulder, Fynta closed her eyes and let the last vestiges of the dream fade into oblivion. The man from Fynta's nightmare had been just that, a figment that Valkorion created to isolate her. She needed to stop making it so easy for the chakaar. "I wish you could too, but it's too dangerous."

Another angry rumble rolled through Aric. "You're letting Theron go. He's a Republic spy who doesn't even wear armor."

"It's the Empress of the Sith empire," Fynta mumbled into Aric's shirt, leaving off the bit about how taking a Cathar into the Imp capital could be seen as a blatant act of defiance. As much as she hated to admit it, the Alliance needed this ally. Supplies were harder to find, but the mouths that needed food and the soldiers who required equipment continued to grow. Fynta sat up to look him in the eye. "No fighting, just a luncheon. I promise."

"With a Sith," Jorgan snorted while curling a pale strand around his finger. A strange smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he changed the subject. "Your hair is growing fast."

They sat in silence, Aric memorizing Fynta's face with his fingertips, studying her features with an intensity that scared her. It was the look of a man convinced that this was the last time he'd see his wife. Fynta noted the touches of grey appearing around Aric's mouth and temples. When she reached to touch them, he caught her hand. "I could wear a helmet. No one would know that I'm not human. Just a grunt who rolled guard detail."

It was tempting. Fynta could have her husband, the only man she trusted absolutely, watching her back. "She's likely to demand that we meet alone. No honor guards."

"At least we'll be on the same planet when it goes to shit," Aric countered. Fynta found it difficult to argue with him, especially after everything they'd been through. He leaned closer, brushing his lips against her throat. "Think about it."

Fynta sighed and tipped her head back, a smile tugging at her resolve. "Lana's going to kill me." Aric's annoyance morphed into a smirk that Fynta felt on her skin. She laughed and pushed him back. "I'll hold you responsible for her retaliation."

"I'll take that," Aric answered too quickly, then glanced at the chrono. One hand slid up Fynta's thigh with the sort of slow determination of a man on a mission. "Think there's time?"

Fynta wiggled against her husband, laughing when he nipped at her collarbone. They'd stripped down to their underarmor to grab some rest during the trip, but neither appeared to be successful. Maybe a nice tussle in the sheets was what they needed to blow off some steam.

Playful groping morphed into a focused drive to undress one another. Fynta's shirt slid over her head, but Aric stopped before her lips could meld against his. "Promise me that you'll play this smart. No unnecessary risks."

Fynta snorted and tried to kiss Aric again, but he stopped her. "Promise me." His voice shook, knuckles brushing the bottom of her chin while his gaze demanded satisfaction.

Swallowing, Fynta nodded. She couldn't fathom the fears of a man who'd spent six years alone, blaming himself for the death of the only person who could make him whole. She owed him this one, kind lie. "Haat, ijaa, haa'it."

Aric's head tilted as his hand slipped lower to finger the necklace that dangled between her breasts. "Should I know what that means?"

Pulling him closer, Fynta looped her arms around Aric's neck and smiled. "Truth, honor, vision." She sealed each word with a kiss. Not just on the lips, but his nose, cheeks, and one good eye. "It's how we seal a pact. I'll come back to you."

Aric turned Fynta until she lay beneath him on the bed. Hands and lips roamed like it was their first time making love. He'd just reached the hem of her shorts when a comm buzzed. Aric lifted his head to snarl at the offending device. Fynta laughed.

Scrambling to the edge of their bed, Aric answered the comm with a snapped word. Lana answered in kind. "If you kept better track of time then these moments wouldn't be so commonplace."

Fynta bit the back of her hand to keep from laughing louder. Aric bared his teeth at the Sith before handing the device to Fynta. She watched her husband roll off the bed to gather his gear, giving Lana only half of her attention. "Is it time to leave?"

"I'm afraid so. I'll meet you in the hangar in five minutes." Lana acted like she wanted to say something else, then decided against it.

The call blinked out, and Fynta pushed off the bed to help Aric pull on the rest of his armor. She handed him his helmet, fingers tightening when he tried to pull it from her grasp. "Keep this on. Don't let anyone know who you are."

Aric nodded, stern features vanishing behind the familiar, t-shaped visor. Together, they secured Fynta's gear in silence, then started for the hangar. Aric had her back, she would know where he was, and he'd be there to pull her out if things went bad. That alone made her feel more secure in the mission.

When they entered the hangar, Lana looked up from her conversation with Theron. The Sith's eyes narrowed, then went wide with recognition. "Oh, for Force sake." They stood at the bottom of the ramp leading into the Thunderclap.

If Koth would allow it, she and Aric would have camped out in their room aboard the ship that had been home for so many years. As it was, the former Eternal Captain didn't allow anyone in the docking bay while in transit.

Theron looked between Fynta's unapologetic grin and Lana's disapproving scowl before settling on Jorgan in full armor. The spy blew out a breath. "He's coming too?"

"He's coming too," Aric confirmed. The deepening of his voice through the helmet filters couldn't hide the mockery in his tone.

Theron tossed his hands up in surrender and vanished into the shuttle. Lana waited, glaring with hands on hips as if she could convince her wayward commanders to change their minds with the power of her will. Fynta wondered if that's exactly what the woman was trying to do, and they were simply too stubborn to be swayed. Eventually, Lana rolled her eyes. "You two will be the death of me."

Fynta didn't bother disguising her laughter as she followed the Sith aboard. She'd take their bitching any day over leaving her husband behind again. Aric was exactly where he was supposed to be, by her side