Namyr found herself in the back of the dancers, the petite green Twi'lek whose name she found out was Catherine, Cathy for short was going over the dance moves with Namyr, who was carefully storing the steps in her memory, the less time she took learning the steps, the more time she would have to question about where the admiral would be at, what times, and what sort of guards would be around.

"Geez I wish I could remember these steps as fast as you," Cathy mentioned as she and Namyr took a break, "Funny, you'd think you'd be famous by now with how well you dance and how fast you learn."

Namyr took a long, unlady-like drink of water and looked at Cathy with puzzled eyes.  Famous?  She had never thought of dancing or maybe even singing as a profession, ever since she join the empire she always consiter going out and completing a mission as her profession and she was damn good at it.  But what if there was another path she could take?  Granted she liked dancing, she was good at it, could she possibly do it for the rest fo her life?  Briefly, the night before she had played around with the thought of going with Rogueboy to Dantoonie, she guess that they would have a farm of some sort, secretly Namyr hoped that it would be in front of a lake.  the whole dream was strangely peaceful and Namyr had liked it, but now that dream was dead, dead in less then twenty-four hours, that had to be a record.  Namyr smiled bitterly, she didn't need dreams anyway, they would only distract her, just as Rogueboy had, just as her emotions had, and she knew that she didn't need any of them.

"My masters perfer to keep my talent under lock and key, they like privacy and if word got out they had a Lethan Twi'lek with a talent for dancing and singing then no one would leave them alone in wanting to buy me," Namyr said lying through her teeth.

"Oh, they sound nice, and they allow you to do this on your own, I wish my master was the same way, but he's always quick to collect me after each practice,"  Cathy said her eyes filling with questions, "Your masters will be at the race tomorrow?  You have been told that they have special seats for our masters next to the admiral.  Probably in the case that he would want to buy one of us."

Namyr stared at Cathy for a moment before noticing the bruises on the small Twi'lek's arms.  "Your master hurts you, doesn't he?" Namyr growled grabbing the girl's arm and inspecting it, 'There are laws on this planet that protect you, you could turn him in!"

"No, no, no I can't what will happen to me?" Cathy said yanking back her hand, 'You should know, you bare those tattoos that hide those scars!  No one cares about us, no one blinks an eyes if we're killed by our master, no one will house us if we're freed, instead they'll just take us and sell us off again," she whispered holding her arms covering up the bruises.

Namyr bit her lip and looked around, each dancer held some sort of injury, shackles, or other items that told her that they were slaves as well.  And from her scars she looked no different, that was why she had been accepted so readily.  Namyr took a mental count of the money in her account before she owed to kill off these Twi'lek dancer's masters during the kidnapping and give them her money to get them back on their feet.

"You're not going to report my master are you?" Cathy said with large frightened eyes.

"No," Namyr said her cold eyes looking at Cathy before they got back up to their feet, "I won't, just because you asked me not to," Namyr would respect the smaller Twi'lek decision for now, Namyr's fingers curled into a fist anger showed for a moment on her beautiful features, but her master wouldn't get away with it, as of all of the other Twi'lek dancers masters as well.  In the confusion that the Raider's were planning no one would notice her cutting them down, and she would do it with a smile on her face.

"Come on, we'd better get back to work, if you don't learn these steps before five then we won't get to go out to the clubs," Cathy said and they continued to go through the steps.

"Oy Dehlia, any chance you can dance with those blades, or are they just decoration?" the large blue Twi'lek whose name was Foodila asked as she watched Namyr and Cathy.

"Yes I can," Namyr said.

"Come over here, let me see them, I actually think I might want you in the front row if you can use them," Foodila said as Namyr took the blades from their sheath, 'Impressive, you must be good, you have them sharpened."

"Yeah, my parents were really into dance," Namyr said cheekily as her blades were handed back to her.

"Good, well you've pretty much have the moves down, now I want you to stand here and let's try a basic twirl," Foodila said moving Namyr by the shoulders to a spot inbetween two yellow twi'leks who were holding dull, outdated blades.

"What type of basic twirl, forward, backwards?" Namyr asked flexing her fingers.

"Backwards is fine," Foodila said and watched as Namyr began twirling the blades until they hummed.  She then naturally fell into a rythmn, 'Hey do you know the steps to Sunflower at Noon?"

"Was one of the last dances I learned before I left home," Namyr said over the hum.  That is when I was sold to satan himself, she thought bitterly and fell into the steps with ease and grace.

"Good, good, looks like we have the end of our dance," Foodila said and checked her watch, 'Namyr you think you have the steps down, all you have to do is once we hit that pivet and slide step you come forward and work your magic."

"Yeah piece of cake," Namyr said with a shrug as she resheathed the sword and stretched.

"Alright, well that pretty much wraps everything up, there's a place that we're staying on the second floor, get cleaned up, changed and if you have permission from your masters you may go out," Foodila said and the Twi'lek dancers bursted itno chatter as they left the room and were escorted to the second level.  There they showered, luckily one of the women who was about Namyr's size let Namyr borrow some of her clothes.  Throughout the entire shower, dressing and walking downtown to the clubs a bottle of some sort of Alcohol was passed around.

Namyr took several large gulps of the liquid, half she did it so the other Twi'leks wouldn't get suspicious, the other half was she had been itching for a drink ever since Rogueboy left, something to ease the pain in her chest.  As soon as the first gulp was in her stomach, Namyr could feel the strong liquid take affect, the lights of the city began blurring, and Namyr heard herself laughing.  She stumbled a little and was held up by Foodila and Cathy.

"Come on Dehlia, we haven't even made it to the club yet," they chuckled at Namyr's intolerance to the liquid.

"Kay," Namyr said and grinned drunkily, as she pulled herself away from the two Twi'leks only to run into a human.  Her hands rested on the guy's shoulders, they seemed so familiar, Rogueboy, the name popped into her head.  Furiously, she shut the name out of her mind, he was gone on the next shuttle going anywhere.  "Sorry," she murmured looking up at the fellow with fuzzy eyes, she noted his black hair, she managed a bright smile, no it wasn't Rogueboy, she knew in her dri=unken state was that he had brown hair, and through the haze she noticed a pair of lime green eyes, she frowned, "do I know you?" she asked looking confused.

"Come on Dehlia, we're going to miss happy hour!" Cathy said joyfully grabbing Namyr and pulling her away from the guy, Namyr looked back at him her face still looking puzzled as she was pulled into the nearby club.

'But I know him," she repeated over and over until she was pulled onto the dance floor and danced with the rest of the Twi'leks.

-----------------------
"Rogue, just so you know if we die, I hate you."

SGT Namyr

Let her go, just let her go.

Why didn't you take her with you?

What's done is done you got a job opportunity; time to look like a rent a espo.

As Alex Gorjan was thinking these thoughts an answer to why he didn't ask Namyr to leave with him came unbidden. You didn't want to take her down with you, you know what happens to deserters and she deserves better then that. At this point she deserves more then you.

Gorjan tried to tune out the voices by playing pieces of his memory but every bit that came up was from his time with the squad; the dangers they braved when boarding ships in zero G, the training simulations, the program that Alex wrote that would grab a trooper's ass every time he shot his gun. So many memories a twinkling, all utterly ended.

The sound of footsteps echoed off the hard duracrete as the former Raider made his way to his job interview. Alex looked up just as someone ran into him, "Sorry." He mumbled as a breath of putrid air hit his nostrils. Finally he realized it was Namyr who ran into him.

Shit!

What do I do?

Play dead!

Where's the logic in that?

Hold her and ask her to run away with you!

I thought we already established we would lone this one?

Do something!

I don't think she recognizes us.

Suddenly Namyr's face changed to quizzical; "Do I know you?" She asked as the other Twi'leks started dragging her away.

Gorjan shook his head and mumbled something he was sure she didn't hear. "You probably wished you never had." Before continuing his journey to the bar he was at earlier.

What the hell are you doing?

Yeah, you have her alone go talk to her idiot, isn't that what you wanted?

It's better off this way.

Who is it better for? Namyr? Or you?

Me, how can I take care of her if I can't even take care of myself?

This girl opened herself up to you and what did you do? You grabbed the sharpest object and plunged it as hard as you could. Where is your sense of honour?

Screw you!

Alex stopped mid stride as he contemplated following Namyr and asking her to leave with him.

She won't come with you.

I thought I told you shut the hell up!

Rogueboy began chasing Namyr until he saw the group of Twi'leks enter the club.

It could be a trap.

It could also be the only way she could escape the squad, get your ass in there and talk to her.

Alex entered the club and began looking around for a red skinned Twi'lek. He saw Namyr grinding with some guy on the dance floor, Namyr's back was to Alex but the man sensed the stare. He looked up and winked at the former ASL.

She already forgot about you.

Dude, that shit really sucks.

This blows, change the channel.

Alex was fed up; he had a meeting to go to a hopefully long term employment with little action, retire with some money put aside and die a ripe old age accomplishing nothing in his life. That was Alex's new dream, to live like a robot and experience nothing no pleasure and no pain that's the name of the new damned game.


-----------------------
Raiders
Faithful To The End
Heavy Weapons Specialist
He will give them death, and they will love him for it -Gladiator
Eat a hearty breakfast men, for tonight we dine in hell -King Leonidas, 300
Clearly Canadian!

ASL/SSGT_Rogueboy/3SQD/1PLT/1COM/1BAT/1RGT/VEA/VE [LoR][ES1][CDS][CoR][EW2]

Amidst the scuffling crowd at the end of the day, the Raiders, separated, all made their way back to Rusty's. The light was failing quickly, leaving only the faintest sections of blue sky as it was rapidly overrun by the lush crimson of the sunset. Long shadows were cast all down the lively road as families and business men and women trudged towards their homes, and cabs lined the street sides waiting for stumbling drunken punters. But whatever business the cabbies received that night would be largely insignificant in comparison to the following night's feverish atmosphere.
  Marka strode down the street by himself, his eyes fixed on the concrete walkway he was on; looking down enough that he wouldn't have to meet anyone's eyes, but up enough that he wouldn't run into the rushing figures around him. His left hand was sitting neatly in the pocket of his pants, while his right was at his neck, clutching the two small symbols that hung loosely from a tattered piece of string. It had been there so long that it had begun to wear away at the skin around his collarbone. It was of small importance to Marka though, having suffered much more hindering injuries in his time, both before and during his time as a trooper.
  As the Raider passed by each club or tavern, his desire to drink rose, as did the longing to forget his quite recent past. Seeing his brother's mauled and lifeless corpse strewn so carelessly against a heap of garbage had inspired in him a rage that only rarely came out; but when it did, even Marka was afraid. But luckily, the companionship of his squad had suppressed the urge to break out into a bloodlust that could only be cured by complete and utter slaughter equal to his distaste for life at that time. Something about the stability and comfort, if it could indeed be called such, centred Marka, and kept his feet solidly cemented to the ground.

The mission seemed quite elaborate, even to Darr. When even your Squad Leader considers a plan to be a touch on the unorthodox, complicated side, you knew that caution would be the dominant expression of everyone involved. Tomorrow, Marka knew that he would be delivering a rather plentiful meal to a New Republic Admiral, who happened to be the target of the entire mission.
  Aphamos would be in the kitchen as well, accompanied by a fake letter from the Admiral telling him that Aphamos was the Admiral's personal chef, and insisted on him doing the majority, if not all of the work involved in his meal.
  Leon would be posted in the stands opposite that of the Admiral and the rest of Raider squad, playing the role of surveillance. It would be his job to keep an eye on the happenings inside the Admiral's tower and to relay any noteworthy information to the rest of the squad.
  The rest of Raider squad, except for Namyr and Rogue, would be in the stands connected to the tower, each with a clear path to the tower's entrance. Once Marka took the meal up through the stands, the squad members would have confirmation that the action would commence thereafter. Upon delivering the spoiled dishes to the Admiral, he would then make his way back to the kitchens and collect Aphamos. What happened next was anyone's guess.
  Marka pondered as to where Namyr had gone. Based on their repour, Marka believed that, had she gone to find Rogue, she would not kill him as she knew she was supposed to. He wondered what kind of problems that would raise for her should anyone in the squad find out. Everyone knew that deserters were to be killed on sight; even Marka, a long time friend of Rogue, would be forced to do it. Perhaps there is something more to their relationship than friendship... Wherever she had gone, Marka hoped she realised that the mission should be the only important thing in her life at the time, as it was for each and every member of the squad.

The street he had been traipsing along was slowly coming to a halt; a T-intersection that saw groups of friends parting ways, excited about seeing each other, and the main event the following day. Out of the corner of his eye, Marka spotted Leon and Aphamos, who apparently had caught up with each other amongst the flocks of citizens. They seemed to be conversing comfortably enough, though whatever they were talking about would most likely be forced; they couldn't talk about the desertion of a squad member from the Empire and how it affected their mission. Imagine the suspicion that would create.
  The two peeked up, cutting short their conversation, to witness that which Marka had witnessed just seconds earlier: the end of the street. They glanced off to the left quickly, then across to the right. They caught a glimpse of Marka, who nodded at them passingly, and set off down the same path, some seventy metres or so behind.

Soon enough the neon brilliance of Rusty's outdoor area beckoned the Raiders to their temporary 'home'. As the radiant glow of emerald green and sky blue lights seemed to expand to encompass the most part of Marka's vision, the flowing conversation of the patrons of Rusty's, and the consistent thumping of the music from inside seemed to drift along the street and into the ears of every surrounding being. By that time, the sky was almost completely black, and stars were draped immeasurably across the darkness. Mostly everything around Marka was in shadow, emphasised by the confronting street and sign lights.
  As he made his way tiredly up the stairs, a rather meaty bouncer, almost completely covered in tattoos brought his hand up and onto the Raider's shoulder.

"Unless you're staying here and can show me proof that you are, or you're very creative and possess an extreme overall sneakiness, you're not getting in." He seemed to grin at his expression of ego.

Marka flashed him the card given to those who had booked in at the front desk, gritting his teeth behind closed lips. Their eyes met, and although Marka was not quite as tall as the bouncer, the latter seemed to back away from the door for reasons other than the fact that Marka had every right to enter. The now agitated Raider made sure to press his shoulder violently into the man as he passed, communicating his contempt in the only way either knew how or understood.

People swarmed past the soldier as he pushed his way to the staircase at the other end of the room. On his way, he'd caught a few of the people staring at him, watching them shy away in embarrassment when they realised they weren't being as subtle as they first thought. He doubted, though, that any of them were looking at him in terms of his apparently absent attractiveness; more than likely it was his unusual appearance and the abnormal tattoos under each eye. But that was not something that made him even the slightest bit angry. It was something he was more than used to by then, and had even grown to consider it more a good thing than anything else. If no one considered him approachable, he wouldn't have to give a fictional reason for being where he was, or who he was, or where and why he got those tattoos. The more you lie, the more you have to remember.
  At the foot of the stairs, glad to be rid of the disease that was the lifestyle of the young adult, dancing, drinking and superficial conversation, Marka turned back to the door to observe Leon and Aph dealing with the same bouncer. It seemed that they were dealing with him in exactly the same way, and when Aph leant his shoulder into the man on his way in, Marka let loose a brief smile and headed up the twisting flight of stairs to his room.
  He tugged the doorhandle down, noticing the dull click that followed, and pushed the door open. The opposite wall had a window that was closed and covered with a tacky white curtain. The left hand wall was decorated with a few small hanging plants, surrounding a very popular copy of a once famous artwork; something most inns highlighted despite the lack of originality. Marka stepped through the arched doorframe, and glanced to his right, taking in the position of everything as he had not yet been in his room. The room only extended about ten metres or so, and wasn't very wide at all, causing the double bed and the nightstand-mounted television to seem incredibly cramped. Luckily, if all went well, this would be the one and only night he would have to stay there.

"I," Marka let out with a sigh, "need a good night's sleep."

Hooking his foot backwards and around the edge of the door, he pushed it back towards the doorframe, hoping from the noisy thump it made that he didn't wake up any Raiders who were already drifting off to sleep in the rooms around him.
  The bed looked more and more inviting with each step closer, and when Marka finally collapsed onto it, closing his eyes in blissful comfort, he thanked the stars that he wouldn't have to move again until morning.

It was only moments later that a message was received from Darr, which caused him to be dragged rudely from the edge of slumber back into the depressing room he had to spend the night.

To: Marka, Leon, Aphamos, Namyr, LK, Sayah;

Meet in my room (Room 23 for those of you who don't know) in an hour and a half. If you are not there by then, you'd better have a good excuse. See you all then.

Darr-Rann

Marka stared blankly at the ceiling. Son of a bitch. That's not much sleep.

What the fuck does he think he's doing?, Aphamos thought to himself as he walked into Rusty's temple and made his way through the line of people at the front desk.  He thinks I betrayed him?  He thinks his squad leader is blind?  He can go to hell.  Aphamos smiled for a moment and shrugged; moments like this where he was under some pressure made him laugh, mostly because he found humor in reality and its unpredictability.  He quickly climbed the stairs, turning into the next hallway, pondering on the dilemma that he faced.  He had hoped he could escape a situation like this, but in the back of his head, he knew that it would come back to get him.

When he had accepted the Platoon Adjutant position, Aphamos had a talk with Darr-Rann about how leadership in the squad would work.  From then on he had vowed that he would follow his squad leader's command and would only interject if it was necessary.  Rizzit had warned him that a problem could arise because of the position Aphamos was putting himself in, but the adjutant hadn't heeded the warning to the fullest.  What do you do now?  Do you step in or leave it to him?  Do you even have a choice?

He stepped into the empty room and put his old cane down against the wall.  He felt a vibration in his pocket as he stuck his hand inside and took out his datapad.

To: Marka, Leon, Aphamos, Namyr, LK, Sayah;

Meet in my room (Room 23 for those of you who don't know) in fifteen minutes. If you are not here by then, you'd better have a good excuse. See you all in fifteen.

-Darr-Rann

Aphamos pulled the packet of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and took one out, lighting it with the lighter in one of his other pockets.  The smoke slowly flowed out of his mouth and rose to the ceiling as Aphamos gazed at it.  The sight and smell of cigarette smoke had always soothed him, and it had become a habit that never fully deteriorated.  Don't bother trying to change things that you have no control over.  He couldn't help but relate that to what was happening right now.  Can anybody truly change the way he thinks and the way he acts?

Aphamos left the room and walked up the next flight of stairs to Darr's floor.  He turned into the next hallway, finding room number twenty-three.  Knocking three times on the door, he looked down at his shoes as he prioritized his thoughts and tried to devote more focus to the mission, not the drama that had been surrounding the squad from the time they had arrived on the planet.  Footsteps could be heard coming from the other side of the room as a figure made his way to the entrance.

"Who is it?" asked the man, Aphamos rolling his eyes and sighing.  Why can't they just knock off the bullshit protocol sometimes?  Oh, wait, because then people run off because they can't be in love!

"Open the damn door before I shoot you through it," replied Aphamos.  The door opened, revealing Sayah at the entrance and the rest of the Raiders, with the exception of Namyr and Rogueboy, scattered about the room.  Aphamos walked over to Darr-Rann, who was in one of his "episodes".  The squad leader looked up at the sergeant, his countenance riddled with a combination of fatigue and anger.

"What happened?" asked the squad leader.

"You got a reaction."

Alex looked at Namyr's yellow eyes and wondered not for the first time if there was an end to them. Her normally cheerful countenance was replaced by hostility her eyes no longer sang a tale of sadness but one accusation.

"Namyr I know I screwed up, I panicked and now I'm screwed. I'm going to have to live the rest of my life always looking over my shoulder for bounty hunters. One day someone is going to get the better of me and I'll cease to exist."

Alexander reached out to touch Namyr's cheek but she flinched as if burned.

"I'm not afraid of death, I'm just a little afraid of what comes after." Cheech said as Namyr stared at the man whom she had planned to spend a big piece of her future with.

"Alex, I think you should leave. Meet me back here tomorrow dress appropriately after this mission I do not want to hear your name or see you again." Namyr said as she began walking away.

The former soldier grabbed her hand; gently but with enough force to interrupt her walk. "Namyr, don't go." He pleaded.

The red Twi'lek turned around with flames in her eyes. "Don't touch me, why should I waste my time with you? You obviously only care about yourself."

Alex raised a hand to his forehead before speaking. "Namyr you can read emotions better then anyone. What I'm feeling for you isn't lust I do not know what this is because I'm so damned emotionally unattached. Namyr, I do not know what to do anymore, money is not a problem; there's always well paying jobs if you're good at it. I think I'm cracking, if you see Darr tell him I had you at gun point and that I'm sorry."

With that Alex quickly ran away leaving a stunned Namyr standing on the street corner.

Cheech entered the bar and headed towards the bartender before something caught his eye. Sitting in the corner booth with his eyes on the door sat Darr. Alex moved up to the bar obscuring Darr's view of him and talked to the bartender.

"You sold me out you piece of poodoo." He said to the bartender the anger barely covered.

"I make out as best I can, someone wants to see you." The small man said nodding towards the table occupied by Darr.

"I can snatch the life out of you quicker then you can raise a finger." Alex said snarling at the bartender.

The bartender shrugged; signaling that the conversation was over. Gorjan made his way over to Darr's table before sitting down with a resigned look on his face.

From all appearances Darr was nursing a Corellian ale and had a long day, Alex sat across from Darr and was holding his blaster pistol aimed at Darr under the table. He was sure Darr was doing the same thing.

"I don't see anyone else here, you came alone?" Alex asked Darr as he quickly did a second sweep of the room.

"Rogue I came alone." Darr said steadily showing that he was obviously still sober.

"Aww.. I feel insulted, makes it seem like I'm not worth the effort." Alex said before continuing with a grin. "So have you come to kill me?"

"Namyr I know I screwed up, I panicked and now I'm screwed. I'm going to have to live the rest of my life always looking over my shoulder for bounty hunters. One day someone is going to get the better of me and I'll cease to exist," rogueboy told Namyr as they stared into each other's eyes and for a few seconds Namyr almost believed it, luckily she got ahold of herself.  She felt her jaw clentch and her teeth grind together, she knew all to well about the rules of dealing with deserters, and she should think of Rogueboy as good as dead.  Yet there he was in front of her, talking to her, but it wasn't in their usually screw around and joke until they got tot the point way of talking.  It was strange seeing him so serious, still Namyr's expression didn't change, every emotion she had felt for Rogueboy was cleaned from her system, that was just how she was, if someone broke her trust Namyr would never let them in again.  More then enough people had lost Namyr that way and Rogueboy was one of them.  She looked away from Rogueboy to watch a couple of people walk down the street, when she turned back to him his fingers were outstretched and touched her face.  Namyr flinched and drew backwards, her breathing suddenly doubling as she reached up and touched her face for a moment.  Warmth filled her body for a moment before she forced it away and put her hands back down by her side, there they turned into fists and shook, as Namyr tried not to hit Rogueboy for touching her.

"I'm not afraid of death, I'm just a little afraid of what comes after," Rogueboy said quickly taking back his hand.  Namyr stared at him, she never could understand how someone could fear death, probably because she had been close so many times it no longer frightened her.  Her eyes narrowed slightly as she stared at Rogueboy, she felt like she was twice her age and Rogueboy was twice as young.  How could he be so fearful of what was after death, you'd be dead and that was that.  Namyr personally didn't believe in heaven and instead believed that your body just became part of the land and eventually would be reborn.  But that concept had always gone over Rogueboy's head.  But she had never seen Rogueboy afraid before, and she didn't like it.  she was use to a culture where fear wasn't shown and to show it your were consitered weak.  So he was weak, Namyr's lip curled up in disguist, she had enough of this conversation, enough of Rogueboy's sniveling, why was he still talking, she didn't care anymore couldn't he see that?  And why couldn't he, she just wanted to be left alone, it hurt her enough when he took off, now he was going through fears and feelings, she justed wanted the old Rogueboy before he became stupid and deserted.  Namyr felt an ache begining to well up in her chest, she just wanted to go back before this mission where her and Rogueboy would go out drinking then perhaps cuddle on the couch and nothing was said, no one cared about what they were up to, no one was in thier personal lives.  It just took a day and a half and everything that Namyr loved about her life was gone, and it was all Rogueboy's fault.

"Alex, I think you should leave. Meet me back here tomorrow dress appropriately, after this mission I do not want to hear your name or see you again," Namyr said her voice ending in a slight hiss, she was done with him.  She turned and began to walk away, her hand was gently grabbed by Rogueboy and Namyr stopped in her tracks.

"Namyr, please don't go," Rogueboy pleaded to her, his voice was right in her ear as she stood there, frozen, her body wouldn't respond to her brain.  She stood there staring at the ground, she was angry with herself as she felt tears prickling in her eyes.  He had sounded so lost, scared, and strangely strong at the same time.  He wanted her to stay with him, just like when he asked her to go to Dantoonie with him.  It was almost the same voice, the voice of being unsure and somewhat hopeful.  Namyr almost let herself turn around and throw herself into Rogueboy's arms, instead her hands turned into fists, no, she wouldn't let him manipulate her like that.  Namyr turned her head her beautiful face screwed up in anger, her eyes blazing.

Don't touch me, why should I waste my time with you? You obviously only care about yourself," she growled yanking her hand back and rubbing it to keep the tingling feeling from spreading.  She had secretly known if she felt with Rogueboy what would have been the point, true they would have been togther, but how long would that have lasted?  They were two people of different species, what if one of them wanted children, Namyr had never heard of a human/twi'lek mix, in fact she was pretty sure it was impossible.  Namyr pursed her lips, did she even want children?  How could she show love to a small child when she was so hard herself?  Not to mention the liofe she led and all the rules and regulations of the Empire she would never see her child due to the nurseries and schools the child would be put in once she/he was born.  God forbid if the Empire let someone be happy for once.  Namyr blinked back her anger, and crossed her arms.  She watched as Rogueboy put a hand to his forehead, Namyr opened her mouth to add something but quickly closed it.  The taste of a warm yet cool mint dotted her mouth.  She had only tasted that emotion once before, it was a couple months back but Namyr could remember the taste, but she didn't want to, she knew what it meant.  She could almost see the three days that Rogueboy had been sick with the flu, Namyr had taken care of him through all the vomit and fever.  Once he was feeling better Namyr had even indulged him with a little babying, she had been glad he was alright, she had never had the flu it didn't affect Twi'leks so it had frightened her a little.  She could even remember the conversation they had when she had pick up the taste.

"Nams, why are you so good to me?" Rogueboy asked looking at her lazily as he laid on his stomach, one arm he was using as a pillow the other hung off the side of the bed.  He had been watching televison and Namyr had been reading a book.

"Hm?" Namyr replied curiously.

"I mean, I don't deserve all this, you taking care of me while I lay in bed."

"You're sick, so enjoy it," Namyr said going back to her book.  She could feel Rogueboy's eyes on her for a few more minutes before Namyr looked up again, 'What?" she asked the taste hitting her tongue as she spoke.

"Not sure," Rogueboy said rolling over to go to sleep, "But one day I hope I can take care of you."



"Namyr you can read emotions better then anyone. What I'm feeling for you isn't lust I do not know what this is because I'm so damned emotionally unattached. Namyr, I do not know what to do anymore, money is not a problem; there's always well paying jobs if you're good at it. I think I'm cracking, if you see Darr tell him I had you at gun point and that I'm sorry," Namyr opened her mouth to say something to Rogue to stop him, only to have him turn around and run away, Namyr felt herself hardening again.  So he ran away again, right after he confessed what she thought he confessed to her.  She had to wonder what type of person did that to another person, to be like,  'hey I really like you maybe even more then that, whoops have to run, bye!'  Namyr found herself grinding her teeth in fustration she smirked in the thought of strangling Rogueboy.

"You know you look really angry for someone whose just had a guy admit he loves her, well in twice as manyw words.  Most women would be giddy and go after the guy," Foodila spoke from the door of the club before stepping out.

'Things are complicated," Namyr mumured back wondering how much Foodila had heard.

"That and you pretty much feel the same way," Foodila took a step back as Namyr reached into her purse, 'Or not, so is he actually going to show up tomorrow and free us like you said?"

"Hm?  Yeah I hope so," Namyr said pulling out some lipgloss and smearing it over her lips, not surprised the female Twi'lek had heard that part of the plan.

"I want to help, I want to fight, I want revenge on that man who says he's my master," Foodila said here eyes darkening.

"You'll get it, we need all the help we can get," Namyr said looking to where Rogueboy had run off to.

'You know if you show up tomorrow morning bright and early I'll make the excuses for you about being with your, 'master,"  Foodila said with a slight smirk, 'the girls will understand, and you never know one of you could die tomorrow."

Namyr felt her temper flare before it disappeared, Foodila was right, damn her, Namyr closed her eyes for a moment before taking off down the street.  She skidded ot a halt, realizing she had no idea hwre Rogueboy had gone.  She ducked into a nearby bar, looking around she didn't find Rogueboy, but she did find Leon sitting down and drinking a blue liquid.

Namyr frowned and walked up to Leon, "Um Leon, I know you don't know much about Twi'leks.  But you're drinking what comes out of a pet's bathroom," she said pointing to the small rabbit-like creature that was sleeping on the bar.

Leon spat out the liquid and looked at Namyr with wide eyes, "what?'

"Just screwing with you, it's an alcohol we make out of the fungus in the caverns on Ryloth," Namyr said sitting next to Leon, she glanced around the bar and through the crowd she could have sworn she saw Darr before the gap closed with the people who were on the dancefloor.

"thank god," Leon breathed and took another drink.

'I'll have the same," Namyr said ordering a drink before speaking lowly with Leon, 'I just talked to Rogueboy, I have a plan to get him out of trouble."

Leon's eyes narrowed for a moment, "Jesus Namyr are you insane, first Rogueboy runs off, now you're talking about helping him, and you want me to be pulled into it?" he asked.

"Yeah pretty much," Namyr said with a shrug, "Okay I have a plan, it's pretty crazy but it might just work if everything goes how it should.  First off there's a big feast and the admiral will be eating, probably a lot, we need to drug him, so someone needs to get into the kitchen's good graces and serve the admiral.  Then I know for a fact that the Admiral, and a bunch of dancers and their masters will be taking a private car of some sort to the races, it's about a fifteen minutes drive, which mean we need a driver to take the car down the more seculed streets.  Now Rogue will be in the car as well as I, he's going to take the dancers and get the hell out of there, that way we can report to the Empire that he's on a temp mission to return those dancers home, so we won't have to shot him, yet.  I'm taking care of the slave masters, no argument, I'm not changing my mind.  You guys will then kidnap the admiral and take him to wherever Darr decides.  Yes it's crazy, but I haven't seen any other plans surfacing..."

Alex listened to Darr as he spoke, nodding his head in agreement; Darr had him by the balls and he knew it. Ten minutes later the conversation was finished with a simple "I'll do it." From Rogueboy.

Darr entered the hotel room where the rest of the squad was waiting for him, after speaking through all the troopers via comlink he had pieced together that they had placed themselves in position without breaking a sweat and thinking for themselves. Darr was proud of them and while he wouldn't say anything; just in case they might become overconfident.

"Alright guys, got a sit rep for everyone gather close." Darr said as he motioned for everyone to huddle up to minimize eavesdroppers.

"Concerning the Rogueboy situation it has been diffused." A couple of eyes seemed to drop before Darr continued on. "He has come back to his senses and is actively participating in the mission, he is currently settling accounts with an unknown bartender."

The door opened and everyone turned around pulling out their blaster pistols. Rogue entered the room and was staring down the barrels. "Think I was safer outside." He said with his trademark grin, he looked no worse for the wear as there were two small cuts running down his face.

"Close the door." Darr said as everyone holstered their weapons before continuing. "So far as things stand we have Namyr and Rogue in the booth with our target, Marka and Aphamos are working in the kitchens and have access to the booth. Leon will be acting as our get away driver, the rest of the squad meanwhile will be posted at various positions on the escape route."

Darr pulled out a data crystal and loaded it onto his datapad; a map of the booth, stands, and surrounding area loaded up, as well as the race track. "We will form a plan of attack, we expect the stands to have a lot of security so we will need to act fast before they can be mobilized and coordinated. Namyr I heard your plan about the bomb and while I can't risk the chance of injuring a civilian I got an idea that might increase the confusion; while inside the booth someone should set a smoke grenade off."

Rogueboy raised his hand signaling he had a question. "What is it Rogue?"

"Will we be equipped with heat sensing goggles of some sort?" The trooper asked.

"Negative, they are too bulky to bring in and unless someone brought a pair we have none. I understand we will be as blind as the enemy but we will have the upper hand of knowing what is going on. We will keep off the comlinks until the smokey goes off and then I want us to be in constant communication. Leon and whoever wants to can go and find a vehicle to&commandeer for tomorrow. Any questions? No? Leon pick your partner, and Rogue a word, the rest of you are dismissed."

Darr-Rann stood alone in the room with Rogueboy, having waited for the others to leave about their various tasks before speaking to him.

"Consider yourself fortunate that I've allowed you this chance. You know the empire would have you hunted down and killed if I'd have reported you a deserter. Hell, I was prepared to kill you myself." The squad leader said. Rogueboy began to speak, but Darr-Rann cut him off. "Don't thank me, and don't think you'll ever be able to get away with something like this again.

"It was a stupid thing you pulled there. One, you could have compromised our mission, which could have proved to put the squad in danger. You're lucky you didn't, or else I would have never accepted you back." He walked over to a nearby table and picked up his datapad, switching it on.

"You also created the situation which one of the squad members could have been forced to kill you. Not only do I think you wouldn't enjoy being dead, but the squad definitely wouldn't enjoy being your executioner. It would have torn apart moral in the squad.

"Your desertion would also put the squad under review. We could have been taken apart by this Alexander. Did you think of that?" He switched his datapad on.

"I'm sorry about how I went about the whole situation with you and Namyr, but I had specifically warned you."

Rogueboy began to speak, but Darr-Rann once again cut him off. "I've given you another chance. Make sure you don't throw it away. Now let's get to work on the mission  We can talk more later."

He began to type commands into his datapad, then paused. "You know, there's gonna be another consequence of this you know." He said.

"I'm ready for any punishment you have for me." Rogueboy said stoically. Darr-Rann shook his head.

"That's not it. It's Namyr." The Gunnery Sergeant said. "I don't know how much you two have talked since you ran away. But I hope you realize that you've hurt her. It doesn't matter how she acts  Namyr's pure stormtrooper, so I don't imagine that she's been putting on a show about it  But you've hurt her. You two are going to have to have a talk after this as well  She's going to feel betrayed by this. You're going to have to do a lot of work if you want her to trust you again."

Darr-Rann watched his assistant squad leader's face closely  He was still trying to mask it, but he could see has last few words had effect. The Squad Leader hated himself at the moment.

"Let's get to work." He said, loading up the mission map.

Namyr grinded her teeth and underneath the table her hands cletched together around her pistol aimed at whoever was coming in the room, as the door opened as if on cue by Darr's words.  In walked Rogue, his face shaped in a cocky grin as he sat down.  It took all of Namyr's will not to leap over the table and punch him in his over confident face.  She grinned grimly glad that the bartender had done some damage on Rogueboy, even if Namyr would have to fix it later.  It took even more control for Namyr to put her pistol away and pay attention to what Darr was saying.  She kept her eyes on Darr as she felt Rogueboy's stare from the corner of her eye, she smirked as Darr mentioned her idea for a bomb.

"What can I say, it's not a mission unless we blow something up," she said simply with a shrug.  She din't really care about the plan as long as she gpot a moment alone with those slavers and Rogue got the dancers out of there she would be happy. 

When the meeting was over, Namyr watched everyone leave, before heading to her room and grabbing her medical bag.

"If you want I can take a look at him?" LK said as he came out of the bathroom and noticed the medbag Namyr was carrying.

"Nah, it's alright, I'm the most senior medical person on the squad, I don't mind, beside Darr's going to need me to do mapping tonight anyway," Namyr said heading for the door.

"Nams, cut him some slack, some of us would have done the same thing, I mean what he did, he did to protect you in some sort of Rogue-like way."

"I understand, that's why I'm going to help him, not injure him," Namyr said simply before walking out of the room.

  She gave Darr and Rogueboy a few minutes to talk before knocking on the door.

"Come in," Darr said and nodded as Namyr walked into the room, he had saw the medpack and figured she was there to look at the scratches on Rogueboy's face.  She walked over to him and leaned forward, not noticing she was giving Rogueboy a faceful of chest due to him sitting and her standing in front of him.

"Hold still, you know the drill," Namyr said gruffly to Rogueboy as she gently took hold of his chin and lifted his face to the light.  She inspected the wounds carefully, occasionally a her other hand would trace over the scratches to check to see how deep they were.  There was one thing that the entire squad knew was though Namyr was tough and hardcore out in the field.  When it came to medicine she took a softer tone and tried hard not to hurt the squad as she worked.

"You're lucky, they're not going to scar," Namyr said as her and Rogueboy's eyes catched one another, but oddly her eyes were distant and far away, looking right through Rogueboy before she pulled out some bacta and bandages.  Her soft hands touched Rogueboy's face as she applied the medications and bandaged them up.  When she was done, she threw away the trash and backed away, "You should only have faint lines by the morning, other then that stay away from beating up any other bartenders until we get off this planet," she said simply before she got to work on the maps her and Darr dicussing where the guards were and other buildings, Namyr had implanted them all into her memory and was throughly drained by the time that Darr let them go for some sleep before the mission.

Rogueboy and Namhyr stepped out into the hall, Namyr turned to go to her room, only to have her hand grabbed.

"Namyr a word, please," Rogueboy said the please was a few moments after the rest of the sentence and held a slight twang of pleading.

Marka lay sprawled across his bed, the sweat from his brown shimmering slightly from an arc of light cast by one of the moons of the planet. His sheets sat crumpled around his midriff, covering very little of him. He had kicked and thrashed at them during his dream; a physical expression of an emotion desire. The dream, a horrific recount of his father's death, had broken down Marka's emotional barrier and wrapped a new blanket of grief around his heart. The overwhelming sadness it caused was something he'd only felt a few times in his life, and it had been a while since the last time.
  It was, of course, unpleasant to feel so upset, but strangely enough, the fact that an emotion so strong had found its way back into his being brought with it an unrecognisable comfort, a glimmer of hope; hope perhaps that he could one day be normal.
  He stayed in the one position for a long time, daring not to close his eyes lest he fall into the wrought dream state once more. He'd happened upon a conundrum; sleep for a while, only to woken by images of death, or stay awake; both ended in a night without sleep. Unsure of any logical alternative, and newly intrigued by the thought of finding his father's murderer, he lets his eyes slowly shut, knowing from that moment that the next hours of his life would be more unpredictable than any battle he'd ever fought.

Please, let morning come without any form of dream. At least a few hours sleep. That's all I need.

[OOC: Sorry it's so short, didn't have much time to write, but I felt the urge to do so anyway.]

LK-486 picked up the wafer, and sniffed it gingerly. He then proceeded to place it into his mouth, and chew slowly. He swallowed, enjoying his Q-Ration as only a soldier could. He savored the taste- the taste of the Empire.

He stowed the box of Q-Rations neatly in a slot on his black utility belt. His black jumpsuit was certainly drawing plenty of eyes, but he was oblivious. He next looked up and down the bar area. He had stopped at a bar near the hotel, hungry for something more than mere pancakes. He looked down at the glass placed over the light brown wood of the bar, and read the menu. He was in the mood for something salty, as opposed to sweet.

His eyes scrolled down the menu as complimentary water arrived. He did not spare the smiling waitress a glance. Taken aback that such an attractive man would not look at her charms, the waitress proceeded to sulk in the corner. LK's eyes came to a rest on a form of breakfast sandwich, complete with meat and eggs. Just what he needed. He turned to the now bad-tempered waitress, and placed in his order. Minutes later, the waitress slid the sandwich down the bar, smirking. She had spit in the sandwich. She tried to stifle her glee as LK chomped down on his first bite, and was in near hysterics as he finished his meal. He laid a couple of New Republic credits on the bar, thanked the waitress, and proceeded to walk out the door.

Bright sunshine washed over his face as he stepped outside. He shielded his eyes with a gloved hand, and turned away from the direction of the sun. He didn't care where he was going, so long as it was away from the stuffy confines of the hotel. There was not too much to do until the nabbing of the Admiral. He found himself in a busy shopping district, looking at the newest Holonet Entertainment Systems. He snorted in disgust. The Holonet had been a classified military communications program during his first tour of duty. To have it available to civilians&.he shook his head and walked away.

The day wore on, and LK still had not been contacted by his squad. He figured they were out, doing their own meaningless pieces of business. His purposes were higher than a simple shopping trip. He wanted to scope out the city within the radius of the first two miles from the hotel. He sat down at a fountain to watch some children play a game with a ball. Once again, he waxed into nostalgia as he though of the Stormtroopers who would have protected this square, with its fountain and its children, no more than eight years ago. 

The weight of his pistol was heavy in his jacket. Aphamos had insisted upon the jacket, because LK was conspicuous enough as any 6'2 man wearing a black jumpsuit. A visible holster was entirely out of the question. Reluctantly, LK had donned the light jacket. He stood up again, his mind aware of the surroundings. A kid bumped into him, and mumbled an apology. LK shoved his hands into the pockets of the jacket, and kept walking.

Afternoon approached. LK stopped for a quick double-dose of his Q-Rations, and then continued his scouting by turning along a side road that he hoped would return to the hotel. He suddenly found himself in a much darker place of the city. He made a quick right down a back alley, hoping for a quick shortcut to a main thoroughfare so he would not get lost. A scrap of paper blew across the alley, and a dumpster along the left side reeked of decay.

LK wandered through the alley, and many more side streets for an hour or so after that, losing himself in the complex system of blocks and alleyways. He made up his mind to ask for directions, and approached a dark door to one side of what seemed to be the umpteenth alleyway.

Suddenly, a hidden slide revealed a slit in the door. A voice demanded what he was doing. LK responded that he was looking for directions to the main shopping plaza. Without further adieu, the door opened. As LK's eyes adjusted to the doorway, a pair of hands shot out and grabbed him&

LK-486's pull into the black hole of a doorway quickly stopped. Before he realized what was happening, the door behind him slid shut with a woosh. As his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, he felt himself roughly frisked. The security, however, was either blind or not very good. They didn't find his scout pistol.

LK-486 looked up just in time to see a rather large human female take his hand into her massive paw. LK-486 was, after all, tall for a human, and took in the fact that a female matched his six feet two inches with a cool demeanor. He did not look at her face as his hand was pumped; instead, LK opted to take in his new surroundings...

He was in a sort of metal room. The posters were covered with garish pictures of males and females of various species engaging in less-than-public activities. The being that had pulled him in for the frisking was a rough looking Zabrak, hands calloused from years of fistfights.

The metal floor was decorated with equally gaudy rugs, but with no pictures. Purple and orange seemed to be the theme of the room. Another doorway, with chains of orange and purple beads hanging from the portal, showed this. The room LK-486 was in also boasted several soft looking beanbag chairs, which glowed neon in the black light of the room. What attracted LK's eyes, however, were not the chairs, but the beings that lay upon them.

Glowing in the black lights of the room lay several scantily clad Twi'leks. LK-486's memory flung him back to a time when he had waited outside closed doors as members of this race were lead in&he remembered dealing with Trandoshans on Tatooine for girls to clean up the barracks. The Empire had cared little for the lives of alien species, and 486 knew that humans were superior to all. He had never even thought of lying with a Twi'lek. The idea had disgusted him, and still did.

Suddenly, the whole scene came together. While LK-486 had been in thought, the abominations had slowly been dancing their way toward him. He could barely hear the caretaker over his own thoughts: "Good pricing on the green one..."

With a sudden violence, LK-486 whipped around.

"Why am I here?" He asked calmly. The guard blinked.

"You were looking for them "directions", weren'tcha?" he smirked.

"These are not directions, alien." LK-486 said with disdain. "This is nothing more than a common bawdy house!" The female human looked hurt.

"I take good care of these girls..."she began

"Shut up, girly!" Shouted the Zabrak. If this humie blabs to the cops, our little cash project is over! We have benefactors to take care of!" he turned to LK-486, an evil little smirk plastered on his face. "All right there, tall stuff. Jest back up now, nice and slow, okay?"

486 felt no need to oblige. He walked past the Zabrak, and put one hand on the door panel. Just as he was about to open the door, a sudden jarring blow landed on his skull. Reeling with pain, LK-486 turned and blindly let a punch go. He felt his hand meet skin, and heard the sickening crunch of someone's nose caving in.

"BASTARD!" Screamed the Zabrak. LK-486 was still woozy from the sucker punch, but was clear headed enough to hear a plastic baton clang to the floor. Mustering up his strength, 486 let loose another punch amid screams from the human woman. His vision came back, just in time to be barely nicked by a knife. Bleeding from his minor wound, the Stormtrooper let out a vicious uppercut, knocking his opponent to the floor.

Seizing the opportunity, LK punched the door button, and quickly exited into the night air. His mind calculated quickly. He did not think that their mission was in jeopardy. From what he had seen and heard so far, Phu was a pretty sleazy planet. These guys weren't going to call the cops.

After regaining his composure, LK-486 proceeded into the dark night.