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Updated: June 17, 2025
Nevan smiled. "From what I learned of him during our duel, I would willingly acknowledge such a bond. I ask permission to accompany you on the mission to return his belongings to his people." "Granted, warrior. Will you be Vader's guest until we leave?" "I would be honored, Chief."
It wouldn't be easy ferreting out the identity of the field agent who'd saved his bio-father's life twelve years ago. It wasn't supposed to be easy ideally, it would be impossible and Nevan was sure he owed his own life, perhaps several times over, to the Imperial safeguards he was trying to break.
"Nothing a disruptor can't handle, then. It'd take more than a week to mount heavy weapons." "He would depend more on speed and secrecy, even so," Corina said. "He wishes to take over; he will cause no more destruction than he must." "What about personal weapons?" Nevan asked. "The Seniors will depend on Talent.
*Aye, but it should not be for long.* *And I knew when I swore that I might have to do it,* Nevan agreed. *Until my success or failure, then.* Three days later he was far from Terra, the violet-flower tattoo on his cheek concealed by synthiskin, in a small Kanchatka-class courier ship.
"He will recover enough to stand trial and serve whatever sentence he is given, but he will never be whole again. He has destroyed an essential part of himself. Take him to the medical unit, please, and see that he is cared for while medteams find and treat the other survivors. Can you find it?" "Yes, sir." Nevan pried his gun out of Thark's hand and holstered it, then picked the Irschchan up.
The others will have to be able to see you before they can attack. If we are fortunate, your shields will all be strong enough to deflect such an attack for the two or three seconds necessary to stun them. And the danger from the Sanctioners, who cannot use darlas at all, is purely physical." "That's encouraging," Nevan said. Corina's ears twitched in appreciation of the attempt at humor.
"Once I get there, I doubt very much I'll be able to find out what's going on back here can you give me any idea whether or not the Sandemans here will accept citizenship?" Nevan glanced at Ryan, then turned back to the Ranger. "I can't speak for anyone else, Highness, but James' actions in bringing peace, and now your willingness to take his place, have made my own decision easy.
Your psych profile, though, says you're adaptable enough that you could accept both, given adequate motivation." Nevan frowned. "I'm afraid I don't understand, sir. I don't know of any Imperial job I would find distasteful, much less intolerable." Medart chuckled.
I wish to accept citizenship and apply for a position in whatever segment of your military is most likely to see combat." Ryan nodded agreement. "My responsibilities as clan-chief prevent me from joining the military, but I concur with the warrior Nevan: I also wish to accept citizenship, and I will recommend to my clan and the other chiefs that they do so as well." "Thank you both.
"The fact you don't deny it will be enough for most." Johansen showed brief distaste, swallowed the rest of his drink, and rose. "I can't wish you luck, since that'd mean wishing someone else dead. But I can wish it for your clan, and I do." Nevan rose to bow. "I will pass your wishes, and word of your repayment, to the Lowrie.
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