Kappa Squad

Everything Kappa Squad

[kappasquad]

Another new-ish commission. This is Espen. He's a Pantoran-Hapan hybrid who sweeps Torq off his feet with his combination of irresistibly sweet charm and shyness. He becomes good friends with Tryss over time and gradually settles into life as part of the extended Slaat'palon family. His mixed genetics left him with blotched skin which was deemed 'unsightly' by his family and has left him extremely self-conscious.

Artist: Lorna-Ka

[kappasquad]

So far, I have only used this blog to share Kappa Squad - naturally, given its title - but I have so much more that’s never going to be seen by anyone else’s eyes if I don’t share it. So...

...without further ado, let me introduce Void and Seresh. They ultimately become part of Surplus Squad, who belong to Author376. Void is a Kamino clone, and Seresh is a Spaarti clone. I was interested in exploring the relationship between ‘brothers’ from different creation sources.

This is set after Order 66.

He was setting up temporary camp in the wooded outskirts of the town when a hand on his shoulder made his heart leap into his throat.

Getting out had been easy, and he used his knowledge of the area and the utterly predictable patrols to avoid detection and find a safe location to set up temporarily. He’d need to move on soon, but he needed to steal enough to get a little money together and then he’d get off this Gods forsaken rock. He had no idea where he was going to go on his own, or how he was going to survive, but he had to just look to the next step and keep calm.

This wasn’t easy when you couldn’t hear what might be creeping up on you. He whirled around and brought the attacker down easily, pinning him with an arm to the throat. For a moment, he almost couldn’t speak; couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

It was the imbecile Spaarti medic.

What the fek was he doing following him out here?

“What the fek are you doing, Spaarti?” Void growled, scared that he’d speak too loudly and alert others to his presence. The idiot just stared at him, the question on his lips, so he repeated himself; focusing on a little more projection. “What are you doing here?”

“You can’t leave.”

Void could lip-read, but he felt the Spaarti’s chest heave with the effort of pulling air in past Void’s restricting pressure on his throat. He reduced the pressure enough to allow him to breathe easy. “I’ve left.”

“Come back with me. It’ll be okay.”

Void sat back on his haunches, honestly stumped by this attitude. The di’kut was speaking as if they could just waltz back into the Imperial base, apologise for leaving and go on as if it had never happened. “I can’t go back. You can’t go back. Are you stupid? What do you think we’d say?”

This couldn’t be happening.

“You can’t go back now.” He repeated himself, because the Spaarti was staring at him as if he were speaking in a foreign tongue. “You’ve deserted. Don’t you realise that?”

The expression on the Spaarti’s face had become unsure, almost fearful. “I wouldn’t desert.” He pushed to his feet and moved back a few steps, shaking his head; suddenly pale at the thought of doing wrong.

How long had this kid even been around? Spaarti’s matured in a year, as opposed to the ten that it took to grow and train a true clone. How could he know anything in such little time? How could he be trusted with the lives of brothers? Void leapt for him when he turned to rush back to the only thing he knew. He tackled him and they both went down hard. “Don’t be stupid.” He hissed, pinning him down firmly. The Spaarti was trembling, clearly terrified to have broken a rule. It must be practically programmed into their minds.

Obey.

He didn’t feel any brotherhood with his specimen, but he did feel a little bite of sympathy. “Maybe you didn’t want to desert, but as far as they are concerned, that’s exactly what you’ve done.” He loosened his grip but kept his weight centred on the lither man. “You know the punishment for desertion, for clones. If you go back, they will execute you.”

As much as he hated the incompetent, miss-bred Spaarti’s, he also couldn’t reconcile himself with allowing one to go unwittingly to his death. He believed that the fool hadn’t meant to desert; but no mongrel officer would believe that, and Spaarti lives were worth even less than a Kamino clone…and that was saying something.

“If you run, you will at least stand a chance of survival. There’s nothing but death waiting for you back the way you came.”

He could feel the Spaarti’s heart hammering under the soft uniform worn by the medical team.

Finally, he spoke, although he was still trembling under Void’s weight. “My name’s Seresh.”

Void knew this once he was reminded. This individual had been one of those sent to verify Lauri’s death. As if missing part of your head wasn’t good enough verification on its own.

“Spaarti.” Lauri would have chastised him for such mean spiritedness, but Void felt nothing towards these half-beings. He wouldn’t use his name. That was reserved for brothers. Everyone else were civvies, mongrels and spaartis.

“And your name’s Void?”

He pretended not to see those words and instead pushed himself up and off, staying ready to make a move again should the Spaarti run. “We make camp here for a day or so.” He motioned towards the branches that he’d been working with to make a hidden natural shelter.

“You can help.”

[kappasquad]

I commissioned this drawing a long time ago to go along with the Graves’ post-spinal-injury midnight bath. I never shared it here, so I’d best remedy that. (There will be a few other unseen commissions coming up as well).

Artist: Lorna Ka

“You’re perfect, y’know that, don’t you?”

Misfit nuzzled his cheek against his partner’s hair, breathing in the subtle smell of lavender that was permeating the room around them; one of Tuca’s ideas, designed to calm Graves and promote a sleepy atmosphere for him to rest It was 3am…very much the middle of the night, but none of that really made much difference to Graves’ sleep schedule since he was still largely bed bound and had nothing to do all day but sleep. People would give him tasks as and when they came available, but nothing that kept him busy all day so he tended to drift off periodically, then be wide awake at night.

Misfit had filled the large portable tub with hot water and lavender oil, proposing a middle-of-the-night bath. The fire was crackling and warm, keeping the chill from their skin. Usually he just helped Graves in to the tub and let him wash himself as much as he could – letting him maintain his independence – but since nobody else was awake, he had taken the opportunity to climb in with him.

He had his partner’s back against his chest, safely reclining between his own spread legs. It gave Graves security and the comfort of some preciously important skin contact.

He had started the painful treatment prescribed by Nala Se which incorporated spinal injections of bacta at the site of his break. The injections themselves weren’t any bother because his feeling was still very poor, but as they took affect the pain was building.

The Kaminoan physician had given him an increase in his pain medication to match the issues he was uncovering, but it was also important to map the progress. In order to monitor the progress, he needed to feel these recovered feelings…even if they were uncomfortable. He was getting bouts of pins and needles that had been so disconcerting and uncomfortable that he’d wept but still refused to take the medication. It was a horrible feeling but it was immensely better than feeling nothing.

Any improvement was good, as far as he was concerned.

The pins and needles had morphed in to general aches around the base of his spine and through his hips, and that was why they chose to soak in the hot water. If Graves was going to refuse medication, Misfit just had to think outside of the box to ensure that he was as comfortable as possible.

Graves opened his eyes again upon hearing Misfit’s proclamation. His head was resting comfortably on his brother’s chest; enjoying the feeling of being wrapped within his strong arms, cradled by his body and the gentle support of the water. “You won’t be saying that when it comes to getting me out again without anyone’s help.” There was both humour and self-depreciation in his tone.

The whole experience had been difficult for him to adapt to; going from highly fit commando to cripple all due to some freak accident. He didn’t grudge anyone else for coming out relatively unscathed while he was left with life changing injuries but the injustice still gnawed at him if he let it. Had it been an injury sustained in combat, it wouldn’t have felt so bad, but this had been time off…a day out hunting. It was meant to be fun.

Brude’s arm was nearly ready to be removed from the cast, although the pins would stay in place. It had been a nasty compound fracture and had left a very impressive surgical scar behind, but Brude was wearing it like a medal. Few individuals had scars like that in a galaxy where bacta healed so thoroughly. Dita was the same; taking his painful lek wound completely in his stride. The young bounced back. That was just how life went.

He felt so old.

“We are old, cyar’vod.” Misfit kissed the side of his neck and held him a little bit tighter.

He must have said it out loud. Or Missy had turned in to a mind reader.

“Plenty grey anyway.” He humoured him, trying to force his mind away from the things that bothered him. It’d been three months now since he broke his back and he was around two months in to his treatment. Progress was slow – just like he’d been warned. He closed his eyes and purred as his husband ran gentle hands up his stomach, passing across the area with absent or altered sensation until they reached his chest. Any petting was much appreciated; he’d found a newly kindled need for touch since he lost feeling and control of half his body.

The sensations that remained were all the more precious when you couldn’t feel so much. He whimpered when Misfit tweaked his nipple and bit his neck simultaneously. The pleasure-pain line was one that Graves loved to teeter along, and his cyar’ika new just what he loved.

“So easy.” Misfit murmured, worrying at the bite mark with his tongue and teeth – intent to leave his mark. He had always been possessive, although it didn’t manifest in as strong a way as Graves’ own possessive actions.

“Only for you, bébé.” Graves dipped a hand in to his lap and gave himself a few half-hearted strokes out of habit more than expectation. He could achieve these semi-erections through erogenous stimulation because the messages from his brain were now making it far enough to bring about the start of an erection, but it wasn’t hard enough to do anything with and he couldn’t reach orgasm just through Misfit playing with his nipples and licking his neck. That didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy it though…

He gave up – completely unable to feel his efforts tonight. “Are you poking my back?” He couldn’t feel anything but the aching pain in his hips, but he could still make a pretty safe guess.

Misfit didn’t reply – choosing instead to bury his face in his partner’s hair to hide his laugh. He couldn’t deny it…he was enjoying this as much as he would always be, but he didn’t like to draw attention to it in case it put unnecessary pressure on Graves.

They still tried to have some fun, but really it always came around to Misfit having to carefully position himself so that Graves could finish him off. They couldn’t have a tumble…and his partner couldn’t just roll over to do the necessary. It was okay – and Graves never complained about not getting anything out of these moments – but Misfit still felt that he was somehow taking advantage.

He’d taken to doing a bit of essential maintenance in the shower if he had the privacy, which he often did now since his schedule revolved around caring for Graves’ needs. It was the first time he’d taken to doing this since the times they were sent out to work separately during the war.

Instead of letting his mind wander away to his own needs, he kicked himself back to the moment, feeling Graves tense a little against him in what he knew was a grimace of pain. The warm water was a good painkiller but it only went so far in treating the deep rooted nerve pain. But he was prepared for it, reaching over the edge of the bath to grab a little jar containing a cocktail of medication that he had prepared for this moment.

Graves took it with mild complaint but ultimately knowing that they were for the best. He didn’t like taking more than he had to but if he didn’t take them now he’d never be able to get to sleep. The water was a temporary reprieve from the pain. He couldn’t just take the painkiller alone because he had a weird reaction to medication. All through his life, the pre-measured sharps of painkiller that they carried in their medkit had made him sick, stims left him with a major ‘hang-over’ affect, he woke from anaesthetic wanting to kill everyone around him…

He’d just treated that as normality for him because every clone feared letting outsiders, Kaminoans, or trainers in on secrets that could be deemed as failures in any way. Misfit kept an eye on him and he was fortunate that he never had to have surgery until he was away from the Kaminoan gaze. He had flattened every medic, med-droid and technician who were unfortunate enough to be in the recovery room with him, until Misfit and E’li rushed in to calm him down. After that, a note had been made in his medical records so that his medic vode knew to keep him restrained when he was regaining consciousness after meds.

And now, he was fortunate enough to have the medical expertise and love of the community, and they had devised a cocktail that would provide adequate pain relief while incorporating an anti-emetic and something to make him drowsy. It was potent, and it only took a few minute for the effects to wash over him, leaving him sleepy and limp in Misfit’s arms.

This did pose something of an issue when it came to getting him out and dried – and to be honest, Misfit hadn’t thought this far ahead in his plan. Fortunately, Tryss chose that moment to make an appearance, startling Misfit and making Graves rumble sleepily.

The Hapan looked half asleep himself; his hair sleep tousled and his one concession to nightwear – some worn, comfortable pants – hanging dangerously from his hips. Nobody needed to ask why he was up…two youngsters, one with lingering traumatic memories and the other a mere baby, would do terrible things to your sleep schedule. There wasn’t many nights that went by without either Tryss or Varik stumbling through to make a comfort bottle for Bess, or to get a mug of warm milk for Haar’ika. He took one look at the pair in the tub, not even questioning the logic of a bath at this time of night. “Need a hand?” He helped Graves to sit up enough for Misfit to slip out from under him, then together they could lift the Alpha captain out of the tub.

Tryss waited until Misfit had hastily dried himself and thrown on some clothing, then he squatted down, threading his left hand under Graves’ thighs and his right arm around his back; a position that Misfit mirrored on the other side.

Before they could lift him, Graves let his head come to against Tryss’ shoulder, squinting at his exposed, lean body. He giggled and pulled what he probably thought was an alluring grin. “Come here often, handsome?” He couldn’t stop himself from dissolving in to more giggles, struggling to keep his eyes open. Tryss merely rolled his eyes, lifting on the count of three and following Misfit’s lead to transfer him to the towels that were laid out on the bed to dry him. He raised his eyebrows at the second Alpha, noting his adoring smile firmly in place at Graves’ antics. “Is he on the loopy drugs again?”

“Yeah…” Misfit pointed to the shelf that held a vast array of meds, and Needles’ meticulous notes on dosages. “The bed time cocktail is always the worst – he needs lots to take the pain away enough for him to sleep but the more pain relief he gets, the more he needs to balance the side-affects. It’s enough to put a bantha on its shebs.”

Tryss turned his gaze back towards Graves to help wrap him up in the blankets. The Alpha was already fast asleep, mouth slightly open and a deceptively innocent expression on his face. Give it ten minutes and he would bet money that he’d be drooling too.

“One bantha…or one stubborn Alpha ARC!”

[kappasquad]

I’ve been away from this blog for a long time, but the Tuca ask prompted me to return. I will endeavour to post here again. I’ve still been writing Kappa Squad and their rapidly extending family. I’ve been avoiding adding anything that isn’t directly related to them, but I think I’ll start to share some of the snippets I’ve written which sit in the Kappa Squad ‘verse. 

[kappasquad]

hi, i seem to remember seeing a story about tuca that's not on here? it was about how the other members of the family found him. am i crazy or does it exist?

Hi, I think I’ve found the bit you mean :)

The entire facility should have been levelled. That wouldn’t have been a difficult moral decision, but the intelligence had suggested that there was a clone in the facility somewhere. They’d prowled the hallways, having sliced in to the security system and set a loop of clean footage playing indefinitely, and found the interrogation cells to be empty apart from a togrutan who looked momentarily relieved until Ordo stunned him and relocked the door.

Innocent or guilty; they had no time to consider helping others. They were here for a very specific reason, and the longer it took, the greater their risk of running in to trouble.

Jaing was still complaining about the inadequacies of the facility’s security as they moved from the sterile holding area and began to explore a darker, less used set of corridors. “Fekkin’ Imperials; can’t even make a decent security system…” He grumbled, taking up the rear as they moved forward. “They deserved to have their gett’se kicked. Complete chakaare.”

They worked their way along the dark corridor, systematically checking every cell with the heat sensing tech in their buy’ce. There was no point in opening every cell unnecessarily…not to mention the potential risk of what might be lurking inside the windowless rooms.

This was clearly an old wing of the expansive facility and it was seeming less and less likely that they’d find what they were looking for.

There was nothing here…just corridors of empty cells.

They were almost at the stage of deciding that the intel was wrong, when Mereel gave a little sound of recognition. “Somebody in that room to your right, Ord’ika. Looks to be prone – stationary – left hand side of the space.”

Ordo came to halt and did his own scan to confirm Mereel’s own findings. There was definitely a heat source so it was worth investigating. They didn’t have anything to lose at this stage.

Bypassing the lock on this old door was easy and he paused to look at his brothers; silently ensuring that they were all ready to act.

3…2…1…

He counted them down so that they moved together when he punched the door controls.

The light from the hallway was barely enough to illuminate the dark cell, but it was just enough to highlight the shapes within – mostly sharp angles and a ledge which was clearly meant to function as a bunk, but with no blankets or mattress.

The room stank of sewage – and it was easy to see that there was no provision for sanitation; no ‘fresher…not even a sink or water supply. No light source that he could see.  There was a drain and grate running along one edge of the room. They must just rinse the place periodically, and sure enough, there was what looked like a sprinkler system set in to the ceiling.

‘Multipurpose’, thought Mereel. ‘Can be used to clean the cell and to soak the occupant. Practical and demoralising.’

The body within the cell had bolted upright at their presence and moved rapidly but unsteadily to get off the ledge and backed right in to the corner.

It was definitely a brother, although he was younger than they’d expected. He looked to be in his late teens and was dressed in a filthy, undersized tunic with ripped pants. Bare feet and a wild look in his eye.

He appeared to be psyching himself up to defend himself, since his only escape route was currently blocked by three mandos in bulky armour.  He was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, clenching his fists.

It wasn’t like looking at a brother. It was like standing up to a wild animal.Ordo raised his sidearm, flipping the setting to stun. He didn’t really want to do it this way, but this couldn’t go wrong now.

Mereel had put a hand to his own holster but come to an abrupt halt. The act of Ordo drawing his weapon had made the vod’ika press himself impossibly closer to the wall – half crouching and ready to explode. It was getting to be a very delicate situation and Ordo wasn’t always cut out for this sort of delicate negotiations. He raised his own hand very slowly to touch Ordo’s forearm, trying to encourage him to lower the weapon a little and take the pressure off. “Steady, Ord’ika.” His voice was soft; both for his own brother and to prevent the kid from panicking. “Take it slow.” He turned his attention to the prisoner. “It’s okay, we’re not going to hurt you. We’re friends…brothers.”

The kid twitched. This in turn made Ordo twitch and raise the weapon slightly.It was like watching a chain reaction.

Mereel tried to make a move to calm his brother or take control of the situation, but his jolt of activity flipped a switch and made the kid explode away from the wall in a move that didn’t seem to be intended as an attempt at intimidation, but rather an overwhelming urge to flee that broke through his desire to cower.Ordo reacted on instinct.

The flash of blue light washed over the younger vod and sent him crumpling to the floor, stunned.

Mereel cursed quietly to himself but stepped over to check the kid and gather him up. He could hear Ordo’s breathing in his own ear – his vod was breathing the audible, rhythmic breaths of someone breathing past an adrenaline rush. He hadn’t acted out of cruelty…he’d just reached the end of his fuse.

There were certain moments where Ord’ika wasn’t the ideal leader, but you never knew what you were getting in to until you where there. The stun bolt wouldn’t harm the kid. Nobody got hurt. And provided they could get out as easily as they got in, it would be a done deal.

[fairy-tail-babes]

Headcanon Game - A to Z (NSFW)

Hey guys! I thought I’d so something fun this weekend, so I did my best to sexualize the alphabet and turn it into a headcanon game!

So here’s how it works. You send me a character (or a few), and the corresponding letters that you want me to answer for them!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex) B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person) D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?) F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual) G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc) H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.) I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)  J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon) K = Kink (One or more of their kinks) L = Location (Favourite places to do the do) M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going) N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc) P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.) Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.) R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.) S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…) T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?) U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make) W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice) X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words) Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?) Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I’ll have this running all weekend, so feel free to drop by!

[drjjjfaustus]

AHHHHHHHH SOMEONE ASK ME ABOUT STAR WARS STUFF

[fandumbandflummery-archive]

Whatever. I’ve got an evening to waste. make with it.

[kappasquad]

Trials of War - Chapter 23

The expression on Nora’s face when she opened her door was priceless – and Mire was pleased to see that she carried a blaster when opening the door in the middle of the night, despite being able to see them on her doorstep through the peep-hole. She lived in a rough area out of necessity; her wages didn’t go far and this was all she could afford. He wished he could do something to help her live somewhere safer but he didn’t even get paid so what good was he? It was one of the moments where he felt he was a failure – completely undeserving of a civilian partner.

They had landed as close to her building as possible, using the cover of darkness to get E’li and Suu’ri along the streets unnoticed. E’li was conscious now but still very wobbly and weak…Suu’ri was in a much better state despite her ordeal.

E’li had regained consciousness, curled up tightly against Graves’ body under the mountain of blankets. His lekku ached badly and the pain crept up in to his head and down to the tip of the injured lek. He had subconsciously curled his good lek tightly around Graves’ bare back, desperately seeking as much warmth of possible as he recovered from his unexpected dip. When he woke, everything felt oddly hypersensitive; even the sound of the Alpha’s breathing and the touch of his skin.

“Grav’ika, you’re warm, and naked, and…hairy…Fek, I feel sick.”

Graves had managed a good natured smile, but everything from the tone, to the content of that sentence was just incredibly out of character for their General and that worried him. E’li didn’t ramble…but that was exactly what he was doing now. “I hope those thoughts aren’t connected, sir. I assure you I do wash…sometimes.”

E’li managed a small laugh, letting his head come down to rest heavily on Graves’ shoulder. He had one hand resting on the clone’s chest and he rubbed it up and down over the dusting of hair, then followed it down his belly with an amused huff. “Never realised just how fluffy humans are.”

Graves hadn’t known whether to laugh, blush or chastise his General, but E’li had soon lost consciousness again so he was saved from having the make a decision.

Now he was dressed again in his black bodysuit and E’li was wearing his fatigues. One of Kappa had lent their fatigues to Suu’ri and the swamped her tiny frame but it was enough to cover her up while the made the dash to Nora’s flat.

Once inside, they had tried to explain the situation as best they could. Nora dealt with it all surprisingly well, once she’d got over the shock. She left the clones to deal with E’li and took Suu’ri through to her bedroom, providing her with some clean clothing so she could shower and dress herself. They would be slightly too small but it was better than nothing. Unsurprisingly, Suu’ri was so exhausted that she fell asleep in Nora’s bed rather than coming back through to join everyone. It was probably preferable that she got some time to get her head around it all and she was safe.

The tiny four room flat was too small for all the bodies currently occupying it. Nora had taken one look at her living room, crammed full with six tank-like clone troopers then turned back and headed in to the kitchen to cook up some food. She didn’t have a lot but she could make a soup and that would stretch what little she had a little further. A few nuna breasts and a lot of frozen vegetables would make a satisfying broth for the clones. She’s quickly learned just how easily pleased Mire was when it came to food that wasn’t ration cubes! She was ready to assume his brothers were much the same.

She listened to them chatting and heard some of them hovering about in the hallway. When she glanced through the slightly open doorway, she was surprised to find them congregating in the ‘fresher in groups like the female patrons in the bar would. Mire was standing in the open doorway, chatting to the brother who was currently using the ‘fresher, thankfully blocking her unexpected view. She was glad of that, even if she would only see his back it still felt somewhat voyeuristic so she ducked back in to the kitchen, shutting the door completely to avoid any further unexpected sights. Mire had explained that clones were a very close knit group, but that wasn’t quite what she had expected.

She wanted to laugh…or cry. It was all a bit much for her, but she just went on tidying up the utensils and stirring the broth. She was in the process of searching out enough bowls, mugs and other soup-suitable-receptacles when she felt hands on her back.

Mire had snuck up to her without her even hearing the door. She had no idea how he did this; for such a large man he moved incredible silently. He wrapped his arms around her, cuddling her close against the soft material of his fatigues. “I love you, cyar’ika.”

She couldn’t help but smile, returning the hug just as tight. “I love you too.” He was solid muscle and she absolutely adored being held in his arms like this. There was nowhere she felt safer or more loved. She had never experienced this type of love before. Civilian men didn’t have the same appreciation for life that the clones had. They lived for every moment because they were all too aware of what may be around the corner.

But she paid for this with the fear that plagued her between every visit. She had to accept that he was putting himself in danger every day, and every comm call came with a mix of joy and dread until she heard his voice; so different from his brothers despite being the same.

His hand was on her thigh, rubbing up under the hem of her plain but pretty dress.

She knew what he wanted to do and part of her leapt at the thought…and the rest curled up in embarrassment because the rest of the men were on the other side of the hall.

They couldn’t lock the kitchen door.

But Mire wasn’t going to let that put a dampener on their moment. He leant down and lifted her off the ground with his hands under her thighs. It was no effort for him – she was very petite despite being gorgeously curvy – and he knew that she loved his shows of strength. He had stamina and power beyond that of most men, and while he knew this was going to be hard, fast and desperate, that didn’t stop him putting the effort in.

Her arms went around his neck for support and he easily gripped her one handed so that he could free himself from his clothing and tug her panties aside. He had considered lifting her up and placing her on the counter but her delighted, breathy gasp made him change his mind. One of her hands had moved to grip his bicep, stroking up and down his skin. She really loved the raw power and he wasn’t about to deny her that.

So instead he rocked carefully against her, taking delight in her moans becoming more and more desperate. His own patience was wearing thin when she tightened her legs around his waist and tried to force him deeper. He grunted breathlessly when she gained a few inches and he twitched in pleasure. “That’s playing dirty, cyar’ika…”

  “Shut up!” She hissed, kissing him to keep him quiet. She could hear the others just on the other side of the door and she didn’t know whether she was excited, scared or exhilarated. She clawed at his burgundy fatigues, kissing his neck and feeling the pulse hammering under her lips.

“They won’t come in, cyar’ika, but they’re hyper alert highly trained men.” He kept his voice low, rocking hard her mercilessly in a seemingly effortless display of upper body strength. “We’re trained to be aware of what’s going on, cyar’ika…”

His words finally broke through her jumbled thoughts and she caught on to what he was saying. Her head flew up from his shoulder. “You meant they know…oh, gods…”

She didn’t manage another word; too busy kissing him breathlessly, tightening her grip again and squirming in time with his thrusts.

He knew when she was rushing towards release and increased his efforts, slowing his movements to draw out the pleasure and hear her whine in desperation. He had ultimate control when she was gripped in his arms like this. He was going to make this last as long as possible now that she had realised they were safe from intruders…but only due to the high observational skills of clone commandos…

Graves was still by E’li’s side, unable to bring himself to move away from the general. He was conscious but definitely not his usual chirpy sense and the area around the bacta patch on his lek was now bruised a deep, dark purple against his lilac skin.

“Sir?” Graves touched the Jedi’s hand, trying to draw him out of his daze and at least get him talking.

E’li blinked slowly, and squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds. His head and lek were throbbing and it was affecting his ability to focus. He wanted to meditate and attempt to heal the damage but it was proving hard to get in to the correct state of mind. When he opened his eyes again he was met with the ARC trooper’s worried gaze. “I’m sorry, Graves.” He curled the injured lek around his chest, subconsciously protecting it from any touch. It was so sensitive he just couldn’t bare the idea of anything brushing against it. “I’m okay…I’ll be okay. I need to meditate.”

He closed his own hand around Graves’ fingers, feeling the warmth and power flowing in to his fingers.

This was the only way he’d manage this. He needed the help. He shut his eyes and tightened his grasp. “I need your help, brother.” He felt a flash of nerves from the ARC trooper, but that quickly settled in to resolution. He could tell without looking that Misfit had moved over beside his Alpha brother and that was enough to calm Graves. “I need you to use your strength to help me, but if you start to feel dizzy you must tell me and I’ll stop.”

He paused, keeping his eyes closed and waiting for a wave of throbbing pain to pass before continuing. “Misfit, when your brother ignores that order he will faint. I need you to settle him down comfortably and let him rest. He’ll be fine but it’s like draining a battery and he will need to sleep. I will be in a trance state and may not realise or wake.”

Misfit nodded, squeezing his brother’s shoulder bracingly.

It went exactly as E’li had said. Misfit sat beside them until Graves began to waver. He was ready to catch him when he slumped in to dead faint. “Steady, brother, udesii…I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” He lowered his brother down gently in to a prepared nest of blankets, pushing his hair from his face and stroking his cheek. He was pale, but E’li had said not to worry, and Misfit trusted their General, so he gave one the tattooed cheek a soft kiss and tucked the blanket around him.

The small living room was a crush of bodies but Misfit had still managed to make enough space around them for E’li to rest as well. The twi’lek wasn’t a natural talent with force healing and despite his hopes, he seemed to have lost his healing trance when Graves’ power dissipated.

He stared blankly towards Misfit while the Alpha regarded him with concern. It didn’t seem like he was entirely there, but he was better than he’d been before. The wound on his lek had taken on a shiny appearance which preceded healing tissue.

“C’mon, sir.” Misfit tried to gently ease the twi’lek down on to the blankets beside his sleeping brother. It was harder with E’li; Graves had been unconscious but the Jedi was in a strange place in-between. It was like trying to move someone with rigor mortis but an Alpha wouldn’t be defeated and he soon had them both situated under a blanket.

The rest of the room was in a state of cautious optimism. Rami had a big grin on his face because he’d finally worked out where Mire had disappeared to - poor, innocent vod’ika – and Varik was doing his utmost not to smile. Of course Varik didn’t seem to have much of a sense of humour when it came to sex, but Misfit wasn’t as blind as Kappa; he could see straight through Varik’s act. The Sergeant may have a stick up his shebs, but right now that was just because it was the closest he would come to the real thing…

Misfit sniggered at his own silent joke then looked up guiltily as they all turned to give him questioning looks.

Naturally, it was the Sergeant who voiced his thoughts first. “What’s funny?” Misfit shook his head, raising his hand in surrender. “Absolutely nothing, Var’ika, honest.” He let another twitch of humour cross his face. “…should we offer to help Nora with the food?”

Faro raised an eyebrow from his spot perched cross legged on the arm of the sofa. It was quite a show of balance for a big man, but it was relying on the fact that Rami would stay put on the seat as counterbalance…and the youngster was looking as if he’d bounce up at any moment. “I don’t think that would be very sporting. Give our vod a chance to vent a little pressure first.”

Rami made to stand but was firmly pushed back by Faro’s hand on his shoulder. He squirmed and looked up mischievously. “Aw, c’mon, Far’ika. I know you don’t have an appetite for such things, but he crept up on me a pitcher of water over me…told me it’d cool my ardour. He nearly fried my datapad and you have no idea how long it took me to find good material.” He scowled a most unintimidating scowl at his brothers. “…since you claim to have none and Varik won’t share. I want to get some revenge. I won’t even look – I’ll just open the door and given him a shock!”

“No.” Faro’s voice was firm. “You were just lying there in the bunkroom going at it…if you’d gone somewhere for privacy it would have been wrong, but as it was, you were fair game. If you’re in a bunkroom, expect company. We all use that space.” He sniffed. “Anyway, he could have thrown a bucket of water over you and the datapad would be fine. Commando quality GAR issued kit, vod’ika.” “I do feel sorry for you, Rami. I can’t imagine being stuck with those oldies all the time. Good on Mire. At least he’s giving it some exer-“ Misfit came to an abrupt halt as the door slid open.

Rami leapt out the chair guiltily, letting the furniture tip suddenly and deposit a shocked Faro on to the floor with a curse and a thump. “I didn’t do anything…” He snapped his jaws closed as he realised his error.

Mire grinned and grabbed his vod’ika in a playful headlock, gripping just hard enough to prevent him tugging free of his own accord. “How long do you think I’ve been standing outside that door, hmm?” He gave his brother’s hair a scrub then let go, allowing him to stumble away a few steps.

Varik waited until Rami had made a tactical withdrawal on the excuse of using the ‘fresher then leant over to mutter in Mire’s ear. “How long where you standing outside the door?”

Mire grinned wickedly. “As far as Rami’s concerned, I heard the whole thing. Really? I didn’t need to hear anything. We need to work on our vod’ika’s sabaac face!”

Graves woke abruptly, initially struggling to work out where he was. He had the warm, familiar bulk of Missy pressed against his back, but he also had someone in front of him and it wasn’t a brother. He blinked against the darkness, feeling his second bed-made squirm and shudder. His arm brushed against a solid appendage that was neither arm nor leg…lekku; it was E’li. It was the squirming that had woken him up.

He untangled one arm from the blankets and wrapped it around the twi’lek’s chest, drawing him closer in a protective gesture. In any other situation, it may have felt wrong or inappropriate, but everything was out of kilter. The evening had flown by; he’d been used as a living battery, passed out, slept, been woken – along with E’li – so that they could eat something, then gone back to sleep as quickly as before.

They were distributed about the living room floor of Mire’s extremely tolerant female – although Graves certainly wasn’t complaining about the accommodation; they’d slept in much worse – but it was still strange. Not to mention the fact that the cramped place was beginning to take on a distinctly musky smell that seemed to gather around vode when they packed in to any space! Graves didn’t mind it, but if left unchecked, it could get a bit strong. They’d all do better for a good scrub down back in the barracks after that river dipping. A quick communal shower in Nora’s tiny ‘fresher hadn’t really done the job.

Usually E’li smelt different, but the river dunking and such exploits had left him smelling the same as everyone else. This is the sort of detail that would be missed by most individuals, but clones were highly attentive to detail…especially when their nose was in close proximity to the source!

The twi’lek crawled out from under the blanket and hobbled away over the scattered bodies towards the door. He was shuffling along with one arm wrapped around his waist, silently opening the door into the hallway and slipping out. His borrowed fatigues stuck to his back and chest like a second skin. He wasn’t entirely surprised to find Graves materialise by his side. The Captain had become distinctly protective in the past twelve hours. He still moved to informally dismiss him. “Go back to bed, Graves.” The Alpha was still very pale after his second-hand brush with the effort of force healing. “You need your rest.”

Graves ignored this, reaching out to touch the twi’lek’s skin, laying his palm on the lilac forehead. His General was clammy and sticky to the touch. He’d just opened up his mouth to begin questions, when E’li groaned and doubled over; sagging against the wall. The skin on his knuckles had gone white where he squeezed his tunic in a death grip. He took a gulpy breath and whined desperately.

Graves had instinctively grabbed him and was now having the circulation cut off by the strength of E’li’s grip on his wrist. “Sir?!” He didn’t know what to do and in this unfamiliar environment, his natural instinct was to shout for a medic, but that wasn’t going to get him very far. He could shout for Faro –

E’li slumped against the wall, feeling a sharp pain rip through him like nothing he’d ever felt before. It felt like his gut was twisting. He’d never felt pain like this. Twi’leks had multiple stomachs and could digest pretty much anything they were faced with – a necessity on Ryloth where food sources could be scarce. He’d never had anything make pain like this. “Oh Force…”

It was clear that Graves was beginning to panic, his mind working in overdrive.

It was giving him some unpleasant flashbacks to a mission where his Missy had got a lungful of airborne toxin through a badly damaged helmet seal. He hadn’t been on that mission with his cyar’ika, and had no idea what had gone on. The toxin hadn’t made itself known until 48 hours afterwards, when Misfit and his temporary squad were back on the transport ship. One of the squad had gone down and Misfit had diverted them towards the nearest frigate for medical assistance, but before they could reach them, he’d started to vomit blood just like the trooper vod. He’d made a terrified call to Graves, pleading for help despite knowing his cyar’vod could do nothing. Graves had been unable to do anything but raise a code red for the transport. But he’d had to listen to his sweetheart’s pain, fearing that he wouldn’t survive until help arrived. He’d never heard that degree of fear and pain in his brother’s voice, and he hoped never to hear it again. He’d never be able to get the image of him curled up against the bulkhead beside another unconscious vod, with blood smeared down his chin out of his mind. It would be with him till the day he died.

E’li had been informed when Misfit and his ailing squad were transferred to the nearest medical centre, and he’d allowed Graves immediate leave to get there. It had sounded like Misfit wouldn’t live. It had been the longest journey of Graves’ life and by the time he got there, Misfit was on life support. He hadn’t been allowed to go in and hold his hand because of the quarantine requirements. The medics had worked miracles. All affected vode pulled through but it had still been terrifying.

Looking at E’li’s scared, pained eyes was enough to take him back to that moment, and every ounce of calm that had returned as E’li healed went racing away again like water between his fingers.

He tightened his grip as the twi’lek sunk lower and let out a sound that was animalistic in its distress.

“Medic!”

[kappasquad]

Trials of War - Chapter 22

20 BBY The darkness was still, broken only by the clicking of insects in the trees around them…and the quiet sounds of Mire setting up his toys.

“Are you sure you’ve got enough?” Misfit squatted down beside the ordnance expert, examining his work with a critical eye. “We don’t want this to look like a commando job – it’s got to look like some incompetent amateur.”

Mire forced himself to ignore the intrusion, although it made him tense. “Don’t you know it’s a bad idea to distract the man organising them boom?” He got a mere shrug of one armoured shoulder in reply. “I know what I’m doing, okay?”

“Yeah, but you’re meant to be pretending not to know what you’re doing!” Misfit argued, keeping his voice low despite the helmet. He was watching the rest of the squad hunker down in the shelter of the wall.

So far everything had gone even better that they had hoped. Getting past the guards and into the ramshackle servants’ quarters had been easy – almost laughably so.

They’d found and woken the twi’lek slave, named Suu’ri, and smuggled her out. Her clothing was scant – barely enough to cover her modesty so she was now wrapped in E’li’s tunics and robe. Before leaving, Faro and Rami had quietly turned the room upside down, smearing animal blood around to make it look like there had been a struggle. They were banking on the fact that Suu’ri – while being their only slave – wouldn’t warrant an investigation.

What with the upcoming explosion, it should look like a bit of inter-family guerrilla warfare…

“Okay, shift your shebs!” Mire grunted as he levered himself back to his feet. He waited until Misfit was back on his feet, then motioned for everyone to start moving. He’d had to make this device crude, with a short fuse and a nerve wrackingly weak range for his trigger. He hung back until everyone was underway, then crept forward until he was at the maximum range to still be able to detonate.

Three…two…one…

He depressed the trigger and plunged forward, sprinting as fast as the armour would allow. He could see his brothers starting to cross the bridge when the explosion hit him hard from behind. He’d moved as far as he could, but the force still sent him stumbling.

He was up on his feet in a heartbeat, feeling the fear creeping up his spine as he tried to sprint on weak legs. Adrenaline did horrible things when you really needed your body performing at its utmost. He was catching up with his brothers though, since the group were moving only as fast as Suu’ri could run, in her bare feet and oversized clothes.

The ground shook with the force of the force of the secondary explosion and the pressure wave knocked them flat as they ran for it. They all felt the shift under their hands and knees as the bridge abutment cracked and the deck began to tilt. The female twi’lek who had introduced herself as Suu’ri had tried to stand but she kept tripping over the overly large robes leant to her by E’li. Her outfit had been so scant that it might as well have not existed, so E’li had removed his tunic and robe so she could be warmly clothed. It left him bare chested but that didn’t matter. It certainly didn’t at this precise moment; they had bigger issues than the chill in the air.

Graves ranted a constant stream of invectives as they all began to slide across the twisting duracrete, his matte black armour scraping along the surface as he tried to dig his gauntlet-mounted vibroblade in to a crack. He reached out and grabbed Suu’ri before she could slide out of reach, tugging her in against his side. Someone grabbed on to him, unfortunately increasing the speed of his slide towards the edge but deep down he knew they were going over that precipice regardless of his efforts and he knew it was Misfit gripping his belt. There was water below them – they’d be okay as long as they could protect her from the force of the fall and any rocks as the current carried them downstream. He heard Rami’s combined string of cursing as the youngest member of the squad lost his grip and tumbled off the bridge deck towards the river below. It didn’t matter – the duracrete was breaking apart under the stress of the explosion and they were all about to take a ducking.

Misfit gripped him, cradling the small female between them as the deck finally gave out.

It was a long way to fall, but their armour cushioned them against the impact with the water. Suu’ri surfaced between them, coughing and struggling to keep her head above the surface. Those warm robes had been a good idea on land but they were dragging her below the surface now that they were saturated. She grabbed Misfit around the neck, clinging tightly to him with both her arms and legs.

Graves had managed to prevent himself from being pulled away by gripping his brother’s belt, so he wrapped himself around such that she was cocooned between their heavily armoured bodies. Any rocks they hit couldn’t hurt her – all they had to do was keep her head above water.

They just had to hold on tight until the river spat them again after the rapids.

The widening of the river further downstream had been enough to slow the current and allow them to swim for the shore, but by this point Suu’ri was barely conscious in Misfit’s arms and E’li had lost his battle with the rapids, now having to be kept afloat between Rami and Mire.

Varik was first to shore but he waded back in to help haul everyone else out on to the sandy beach. They had only travelled about a klick downstream so it wasn’t too disastrous – they were still within quick reach of their ship.

Misfit lifted the petite female twi’lek with ease. She was shivering too much to walk, freezing cold and weighed down by the soaking Jedi robes. He knew that she needed to get warmed up but there was nothing they could do here.

Everything was wet. Time was critical for them now. They had to get off-planet and away before the alarm was raised.

But Mire was still kneeling by E’li’s side; the Jedi slumped in a heap on the sand. He was bleeding heavily from a wound on his left lek and had a very dazed expression. It was hard to tell, but he also seemed a paler shade of lilac to usual but it was impossible to tell whether that was due to blood loss, chill or any other factor. Mire was trying to get him to his feet but he wasn’t cooperating, which was very unlike E’li.

Faro knelt by their side and efficiently applied a bacta patch to the damaged lek. He wasn’t familiar with twi’lek physiology and didn’t know whether to give a stim or not, but E’li was robust and probably around a similar mass to them, and without it they weren’t going anywhere fast.

“I could lift him?” Graves stepped over to give his assessment, trying to hurry things along. The clock was ticking and every minute was a mark against their chances of success. He didn’t recoil as the Jedi curled over and vomited in to the sand. “A lekku based concussion, possibly? We need to get back to the ship to treat anything properly. He’s going to get hypothermic.”

Faro was the squad medic but he still listened to the Alphas because their experiences often outweighed those of the commandos…although none of them had any experience of twi’lek first aid. They knew that the lekku contained brain tissue so it was feasible that the injury could have caused a concussion. He’d never heard of it but then, he was still trying to get his head around the idea of the lekku as an erogenous zone.

What did they do with them…rub them...or use them to…?

He shook his head and brought his mind back on track. He had precious little knowledge of how human sex for pleasure went – as far as he was concerned, it was all about reproduction so why was fun so important, but then it only took one look at Mire when he’d spent a night with Nora to see the spring in his step. They had quizzed him mercilessly after his first night away; keen to gain some valuable intel in to this whole courting experience. Their brother had gone surprisingly shy but enough pestering had eventually convinced him to give a blow by blow account. It had been interesting to add new knowledge to their skillset but Faro still found the whole idea unnecessary. It seemed like an awful lot of fuss when ten minutes in a quiet corner of the showers was usually enough to keep things in check – and even that was more than Faro cared for.

He realised that he still hadn’t answered Graves – although the fact that the Alpha hadn’t just stormed in and done whatever he wanted to do showed that he was nervous. He checked to wrap on E’li’s lek for a second time then ducked down to carefully tilt the Jedi’s head back so that he could check his pupils. They seemed normal but he was shivering uncontrollably, clearly freezing cold. That was enough for him to make up his mind. “Lift him. We need to get back on the ship as soon as possible.”

Graves took more care than he would with a brother, aware that despite the situation, this was still their superior. E’li may not act like that but it was ingrained habit to be polite…even if polite in this case just meant ‘don’t squish his lekku’. The run back was hard going but they made it to the ship without raising the alarm. The smoke from their overly enthusiastic explosion could still be seen rising in to the sky and trailing away with the wind.

Misfit leapt in to the pilots chair to prepare the ship for immediate launch, leaving the others in the small crew bay to deal with the twi’leks. The ship was small – too small really for the purpose but it had been hard enough to sneak out of Coruscant with this – beggars couldn’t be choosers. The first thing he did was turn up the ambient temperature to something more suited to the Ryloth natives. The clone armour regulated temperature so it was easy for them to forget about others who were more susceptible to feeling the chill.

Faro was already tugging what few blanket they had out from the bunks set in to the bulkheads and bringing them all together in the middle of the floor.

Suu’ri had stiffly reached for one, trying to wrap herself up but her hands were so cold she could barely manage.

E’li was barely conscious and past making such an effort.

Graves may not have been a medic, but he knew enough to understand the necessary steps to dealing with a hypothermic patient and had already started to strip his own armour and bodysuit off while Faro removed the few saturated items of clothing from the Jedi.

The air in the ship was warm, and the armour had kept them dry so Graves’ skin was pleasantly cosy…until E’li was bundled against him. Faro wrapped the pair in blankets, making sure to cocoon them completely.

Suu’ri was soaked to the skin; bedraggled, aching and cold. She had the strength to curl in on herself but it wasn’t helping her at all. She’d looked away as the two men – one human and one twi’lek – had stripped away their clothing and curled up skin to skin under the blankets, but she found her mind longing for that warmth.

“She needs the same…” Faro glanced up from treating the lek wound. “Somebody get on that please.”

There was a silence among the remaining commandos – and a snort from Graves who was safely free of such duty.

Rami had gone bright red – being a tender eighteen years old and still somewhat inexperienced – but he was quick off the bat with his plan to pass the buck. “Mire should do it.” He turned to his brother with a desperate expression. “You love Nora…so you’re okay, you can’t possibly, y’know…” He trailed off and went impossibly redder.

Mire opened his mouth to argue just why he shouldn’t the one to take the duty but Varik stepped in to prevent the disagreement from taking flight.

“I’ll do it.” The sergeant stood up and shucked his armour, peeling off his skin-tight black under suit. Touching the pretty female twi’lek didn’t bother him at all and the last thing she needed to hear was them arguing because nobody wanted to come in to contact with her. That sounded terrible…

She was staring at him quite blatantly but that didn’t unnerve him. He didn’t see that he was anything much worth staring at…he looked identical to thousands of others and very similar to a male twi’lek in terms of intimate areas…he just wasn’t as smooth and hairless as a twi’lek. He held up a blanket like a screen, making a show of looking away from her. “Get your wet clothes off, ma’am.” He looked away until the blanket was plucked from his hands. She had wrapped herself up but he hauled himself up on to one of the bunks and patted the mattress. “Climb in.”

Suu’ri stood, frozen to the spot, shivering uncontrollably no matter how tightly she wrapped herself up. The clone was offering her warmth – but he was naked. Naked and extremely powerful. Everything inside her screamed to get away from a threat like that, but she was too cold. They had rescued her…maybe they wouldn’t harm her.

Against her better judgement, she struggled up on to the bunk, keeping the blanket tightly wrapped around her body so that she didn’t touch him. He piled more blankets over them and lay still for a few minutes.

She still shivered, denied any skin to skin heat exchange by her self-made cocoon.

He pried gently at a corner of her blanket, trying to slowly encourage her to let her skin touch his. He wished that he could somehow convey the sincerity of his actions but with E’li out of action they would have to rely on good, old fashioned trust. Unfortunately, she had only met him hours before and her life experiences undoubtedly made her reluctant to trust strange men.

He felt her cold hand touch his chest and stifled a grunt of annoyance at the chill. He hated the cold as much as the next person, but she needed to get thawed out.

Gradually she loosened her blanket and let more skin come in to contact with him. Once she established that he wasn’t going to do anything to harm her she gave in to desire and pushed herself up against him, losing herself in the warmth of his flesh.

“Good lass.” His voice was soft; sleepy against her lek. “It’s going to be okay now. Nobody will get past a commando squad and two ARCs to hurt you. Relax, you’re safe…”

She couldn’t help but do exactly as he said. The warmth and comfort was making her sleepy and listening to his breathing even out in to sleep dragged her along after him.

[kappasquad]

Technology in Death - an Alpha snippet

It was a clever little system, fitted as part of their final trip out in the galaxy beyond Slaat’palon. It had cost a pretty credit but they had saved a lot over their lifetime together. Growing up with no money and then being used in what amounted to a slave army created men with little value for credits – especially since Slaat’palon worked pretty well internally on a barter system. They earned credits working for the late Fenn Shysa’s ori’ramikade, and they would have gone on to serve Fett if it weren’t for them being injured out of service before that transfer of power. Misfit was still a fit man – in fact, he could probably go out and give someone a thump once in a while – but Graves had been crippled by a bad fall and while he regained most of his day to day functions, he was never going to be a commando again. And if one was out, then so was the other. They did everything together and since Graves was always going to be weaker in his lower limbs after the accident, Misfit chose to retire with him. It had made it seem less like enforced retirement to Graves, who was so desperate to return to a sense of normality despite having broken his back and made a miraculous recovery, all things considered.

Despite the initial success of his treatment, it became clear that his health was deteriorating quicker with age than in his fitter brothers. Misfit knew that he was going to go on living longer than his cyar’ika and this was among the most unfavourable of outcomes he could think of, so they had taken steps and put a chunk of their life savings towards a very worthy cause. The rest of their money would eventually go in to the family funds, when they no longer had a need for it.

The only other major spend they’d ever had was when Misfit had commissioned matching opal rings to be made for them when Graves had bed bound and at his lowest ebb. They hadn’t exchanged rings before because of the risk posed by wearing jewellery when on active service. But the surprise had cheered Graves up no end, and they were never going to be in a position where jewellery was a risk.

They did it all discreetly to avoid upsetting the family. They had a tour around the galaxy to see all the places they’d loved, or where they’d always wanted to see. They visited Fraoch’s family on Concord Dawn, and spent a chunk of time on Mandalore before heading back to Slaat’palon. After this they had gone on quietly creating mayhem for a further four years.

The product of much private discussion and soul searching kicked in and did its job one otherwise un-noteworthy summer night. Graves slipped away peacefully in his sleep, which triggered the dual monitoring system that tracked both their vital signs. When Graves’ heart gave up, the system administered a fatally high dose of medication directly in to Misfit’s bloodstream which stopped his heart in a painless manner without waking him from his sleep.

It was exactly how it was meant to be – money wisely spent – and neither vod had to ever spend a moment in life without the other. Misfit had always feared that the shock of Grav’ika’s death would give him a heart attack…but he feared what would happen if it didn’t even more…

Some things were worse than death, and he would rather go years before his time provided he didn’t have to see a sunrise without his cyar’ika.

It was controlled, and it was peaceful. That was all they’d wanted.

[kappasquad]

E’li was fuming, but it was only familiarity and a clone’s skill for the subtle body language that had allowed Graves to note this. His general was doing a very good job of disguising his anger, but he was watching the female twi’lek as she was bossed about and snapped at. The ends of his long lekku were subtly animated, and while Graves didn’t understand the language, he was sure that there was discussion going between the twi’leks.

[kappasquad]

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[kappasquad]

Haar returns to his squad.