The Long Haul

[Cyrene Miles]

The Colicoids reacted to the Sith like trained dogs. Her brothers in arms had fought and died for what? For his little charade? Even if Cyril was a Jedi, surely he could have been flushed out without such a loss of life. Wasteful. Disrespectful. This Sith did not care for those who fought beneath him. He was not a guardian, not a shepherd, did not deserve to have anyone follow him, to have lives depending on him, loyal to him. He was utterly unworthy. The judgement was passed in a moment. Not for Cyril. Not for herself. For all the dead troopers outside.

Cyrenes body was slanted just ever so slightly. Enough that the side of her blaster nearest Cyril could not easily be seen by the Sith. The side that had the option to switch to stun. An option she took, with a slight tap of her finger as she did. Hopefuly Cyril would see. It would be better if he shot her, but she'd shoot him if she needed to. Best if he shot her. Gave her the excuse to fall prone to the floor.

"Yessir."

The time it took to say that ought to give him time enough to act. If he shot her in the head, all the better, she had the helmet after all. Still, on the off chance he didn't think quickly enough she turned fully intent on shooting him in the chest, if she could manage it in a way that he fell with his injured side hidden from the Sith, so much the better.

She hadn't decided how she felt about the Jedi revelation yet. This was going to take some processing.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Cyril wasted no time. He pulled the trigger on his blaster twice. The Sith batted both to the ground, but it bought him enough time to spin on his heel and catch the stun bolts right to the chest. Rather than be sent sprawling into the Collocoid nest, Cyril only stumbled. Beneath his jacket, he wore bits of his Phrik armor. It was thin enough to be work under regular clothing with no one being the wiser. Apparently, the Sith Lord had not factored that in.

The Collocoids lunged forward. Cyril responded with a burst of telekinetic energy. They Collocoids were sent sprawling, dazed but unharmed. Gregory pressed forward, his lightsaber raised to carve Cyril from shoulder to hip.

"You shouldn't have killed those men." Cyril growled dangerously. With a flick of his wrist, the Sith was sent flying toward the ceiling. Then he was crashing down into the floor. The impact left Gregory in convoy and bleeding out of his nose.

The Collocoids all settled at once, as if a spell had been lifted from their minds. One of the larger ones trotted forward, speaking in perfect basic.

"That Inquisitor controlled my people for sometime with his...magics. We thank you, and apologize for the attacks. They were not done out of voli-"

"Sith deploy Mentalists to cause havoc all the time. He's your prisoner, do with him what you deem right." Cyril cut him off, turning to Cyrene.

Another flick of his wrist opened the tunnel they had come from. That was when the pain came. The energy from the stun bolt did not effect him, but the impact did. Blaster bolts hit as hard as kinetic bullets after all.

"If those had been lethal, it would have gone through my breast plate...thanks."

[member="Cyrene Miles"]

 

[Cyrene Miles]

Blaster was holstered as the Colicoids began to speak, rifle was drawn. Taut jawed, the Sniper took aim and fired just as Cyril turned to address her. Prisoner. Not anymore. Likely if the info was right they would have eaten him, but you never knew. Besides, you left someone like that alive, there was always the chance they were going to show up again. She might have been moral, but she was also a soldier. Once something was tagged an enemy you took it down.

Job done, the sniper turned her head to the side and spit once.

Now her attention returned to Cyril. Now she was forced to deal with what she'd been ignoring up until this point. After that display she certainly couldn't deny that he was a force user, and if the Sith were so set on going after him, Jedi seemed likely. He'd been in an Imperial controlled town, where the soldiers were known to drink. He'd spoken to her, likely because she'd been alone. He'd established where her allegiances lay before asking her out of the cantina. She wasn't bad looking, but she wasn't beautiful either. Nothing to inspire any star-crossed nonsense in any case. Logical conclusion then. He'd been after something. Information, allegiance, something. Not her.

That was.. It hurt more than she'd expected. Well. Today was just full of lessons.

"Don't reckon you did nothin' worth bein' shot. I din't see you breakin' no laws. Might be a plan t'hop planet about now though. I still got patrol in th'mornin'. Likely double-shift with th'losses."

Her voice was steady, even. That was her, dependable, even-tempered Cyrene, who'd just shot and killed a Sith and kissed a Jedi. She started to turn but stopped, eyes on the Colicoids.

"Folks."

She tipped them a salute before heading up the tunnel.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Any other Jedi would have left it at that. The Sith threat was taken care of. The rebels could move on the town. The job was done, and Kinthar was ready to be saved from its Imperial captors. Cyrene's friends and allies. The people Cyril considered monsters.

He was so weak.

Despite his pain, he followed after the Stormtrooper. He paid little mind to the smoking corpse of the Sith Lord they had left behind. Were he in her position, he would have done the same.

Halfway through the tunnel, he broke into a jog. A painful movement that tore at his ribs and gave him a morbid headache, but those could be addressed late. A few paces before they breached the end of the cave and emerged back in Kinthar, Cyril caught up to her. He reached out for her arm, intending to spin her around.

If he succeeded, his arm would snake around her waist. He would pull her to him in a right embrace, and press his lips to hers.

If not...force knew how that might go.

[member="Cyrene Miles"]

 

[Cyrene Miles]

Not certain how the bugs would take her shooting of their prisoner, and honestly still getting the creeps from them, the Sniper had kept her rifle loosely in one hand rather than slung over her shoulder though she kept the muzzle tilted toward the ground. She did need air though, to breathe, and in truth if she couldn't see the details around her right now, good, so she'd pulled off the helmet and clipped that too to her waist, opposite the blaster.

She was running through timelines, requirements and excuses in her head. She was on roster for the morning, and given the number of folks they had lost (in an utterly pointless attack orchestrated by their own side) it was likely she might have to stand more than one shift. What time was it now? Depending on how quickly they'd responded she might still be needed to help with clean-up. Which she was more than game to do, anxious even to check on squadmates and see who had been lost, but she could not let her performance tomorrow suffer, what if they came under attack again? Everyone had seen the three of them enter the burrows, likely someone would question her when only two emerged. What was the correct course of action? Truth or lie? She'd shot and killed a Sith. But he had been attacking and costing the lives of their own people. A traitor. If it was escalated to another Sith though, how much sympathy would they have for that explanation? It had been practically a suicide mission, better to say he'd fallen. As few details and as matter of fact as possible.

It was all this that allowed Cyril to take her largely by surprise. Largely because on some level she'd heard his footsteps, identified them as human, him as they only human, and passed it off as not a direct threat. Still, when he caught her free hand and spun her around he very nearly took a rifle to the face. Very nearly, but not quite.

Rational mind might have decided that cutting losses was the best course of action, but instinct, something Cyrene depended heavily upon let him draw her close. Largely ignored primal urges had her body pressed against his and her lips kissing him back.

As with all things, eventually the kiss had to end, and reality made an effort to reassert itself. She leaned her head against his chest with a weary sigh.

"This is a damned mess."

The Sith, the attack, them. All of it.

What did you do when you realized that even if his intentions weren't honourable, even if he was just trying to use you, you still had feelings like an idiot? Serving in the military was all she'd ever wanted, and she finally had it and looked set to succeed and now this. Not even the Sith, she didn't hold that against him. The Sith had died because of his own actions, no one elses. But he'd spoken true enough beforehand. Though she'd not willingly or knowingly betray her fellow Imperials, she was a traitor all the same, just for choosing not to act, for staying silent.

Plus she wasn't naive enough to think they'd never clash. What would she do? If it was shoot Cyril or shoot those who depended on her to have their back? These were combat situations after all, non-lethal was rarely an option.

I don't got a damned answer for none o'this. But I ain't tellin' him t'leave again. That's th'long and short of it. S'pose I'll just have t'sort things as they happen.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Why he'd done it, Cyril might never know. In hindsight, he might say it was the force that drove him into the arms of this woman. Perhaps it was a desire to be appreciated, loved, comforted, he had no idea. All he knew was that he wanted this little Imperial for his own. She could make him life. Her aim was spot on. She took care of herself; didn't need him to watch over her. Perhaps that was where the attraction came from. He did not need to protect her, she could do that herself.

"So is the galaxy. Somehow we all survive." He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug, and ran his fingers through he hair. He held her tight to his chest, and focused on their short little moment together, rather than the consequences of it. His subordinates could never know. They would criticize him for it; accuse him of underlying Imperial loyalties. It would not be that hard considering his origins as the Emperor's Hand.

"He wasn't lying. I am a Jedi. I came here to help the people of Balmorra survive under Sith occupation, and weaken Sith hold on the planet." He did not say Imperials, though whether she picked up on that or not was up in the air. "I knew there was a Sith in the area. I was trying to flush him out, but then I met you..." He trailed off.

In a rare show of intimacy for the errant Knight, he tilted his head forward, and pressed his lips to her forehead. He lingered there for a few moments before breaking the momentary contact.

"I want to keep the Dark Lord and his cronies from making another Alderaan. They've destroyed one planet, they'll annihilate more." He spoke, barely above a whisper. "But...you still owe me."

He offered a sly little smile, and hooked a finger under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "For the Sith thing. I was just an innocent bystander, y'know. Better pay up." He snickered.

[member="Cyrene Miles"]

 

[Cyrene Miles]

"A-yuh, this is so."

She allowed, eyes closing momentarily as his fingers ran through her hair. Likely a damned mess with the helmet, dust and sweat. Ah well. It was easy wasn't it? Really? The big picture was hard. The big picture was near impossible. But when you zoomed in.. It was just doing one thing after another. Dealing with things as they came up. One foot in front of the other. You dealt because you had to. No point dropping dead of angst or some-such foolishness.

She did note his wording, and chose to take it at face value rather than as an attempt to manipulate her or skirt around the enemity that should have existed between them. She was also helping the citizens of Balmorra. She was also coming to think that maybe Sith ought'nt have any sort of official sway or hold. Hadn't she just shot one? Her loyalty to her own CO's and her squadmates remained strong and unshaken, but her already shaky view of the Sith side of things..

A hmphed breath was her reply to the Alderaan bit. That was another sore spot. As much as she didn't go in for just killing aliens without cause, Vong were also on the list of things that weren't natural and gave her the jeebies. To take a beautiful planet like Alderaan and hand it over to them for Vong-forming. She got it, the Vong had to have something for their services, and Alderaan had been known as the soul of the Republic, but is still didn't sit well. Plus word was it wasn't the only planet getting that treatment either, not that grunts like her were given the full overview. What if it was Taanab?

"I guess I do."

She allowed, mouth crooking up into a half smile.

"Total innocent bystander, weren't fer me he wouldn't never have batted an eye atcha."

Or so she'd first thought. Turned out it was in fact the other way around. She'd been pulled into a game of cat and mouse between the two. Not that she resented it. That big bug might've skewered Cyril, though chances were she's just kept him from having to blow his cover. And the Sith might have lived to destroy other good, loyal folks life for his games if someone more hesitant, more compromising had come along, or if it had just been Cyril.

"'Spose I hain't got much choice, 'm honourbound t'come good. Don't seem t'have any credits on me though.. Guess I'll have t'pay in other coin, whatcha want boyo?"

Half smile had grown to full, as he brought her chin up and brown eyes met grey-ish blue.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]