Vierce Savins, freedom fighter, naturalized citizen to the Galactic Republic, and hater of all things Imperial.
This is the canonical Republic Trooper in my Star Wars: The Old Republic. And then he met Elara Dorne.
Now, I met Dorne immediately after finishing the Sith Warrior line, and I hated Imps. I hated Imps so much. I hated Elara. However, her personality and her amazing voice actress (Moira Quirk) slowly won me over. I turned that journey into a novelization of the Trooper line.
Vierce is close with his mother and brother, usually friendly to his executive officer Jorgan, devoted to his friends, and, in safe situations, protective and gentle. He’s also traumatized, quick to pass judgment, and overpowering in anger. He has to learn to work past these things before he’s in any shape to pursue a relationship. That’s the thing about Vierce: he does put in the work. Slowly, unevenly, but he does. That’s what redeems him from the hair-trigger judge, jury, and executioner that he could have been.
Adviercity is probably my favorite Bright SWTOR fic. I enclose excerpts from Adviercity and from its miscellaneous-shorts followon, Naturalized Citizens (named in honor of both Vierce and Elara).
Overcoming Adviercity (PDF) (novel)
Naturalized Citizens (one-shot collection)
My first lead was on Taris. The planetside control center I walked into was busy. Decent variety of people. I couldn’t help but notice the bright golden hair of one woman working over a console across the room. It was done up in one of those buns you might call severe, but it looked nice. And when she looked my way…you know how blondes all have gold dust on their eyelashes? I swear I could see it from where I stood.
I reported to Colonel Gaff, who was in a snit at Havoc Squad having the gall to storm through demanding support for an unspecified mission. He stonewalled me until Sergeant Gold Dust left her console and walked up to directly contradict his claims of knowing nothing useful.
“Patrol teams three, five, and eight were all lost, all without explanation.”
This news might have been more tactically interesting if it hadn’t been delivered in a pitch-perfect Imperial accent.
The woman and her stupid yellow bun came to stand opposite Colonel Gaff. They glared at each other. I glared at her, but I don’t think anybody was counting that, except maybe Jorgan.
She turned her eyes, dull overgrown lashes and all, away from the colonel and saluted me crisply. “Elara Dorne, sir. Sergeant, first class, commander of Search and Rescue Squad 204.”Commander. An accent like that, in command. I didn’t acknowledge the salute. “Lieutenant Vierce Savins. Havoc Squad. Colonel, is there anyone you can recommend to brief me on this matter?”
Dorne didn’t respond to the slight. Gaff processed my displeasure and gave me a sullen sneer. “That would be Sergeant Dorne. She’s all yours.”
“If you would, sir.” The sergeant tilted her head toward a conference room and led me and Jorgan in, standing by to shut the door after us.
I had work to do, I reminded myself. Leads to pursue, and somehow Sergeant Imperial was the only one talking. I wouldn’t take her information at face value, but there was a chance it was better than nothing. Therefore: “If you have information for me, sergeant, I’ll be glad to hear it.”
She nodded crisply – crisp was a big thing with her – and laid out the whole story of the base’s standard patrols, their usual patterns, the communications of the missing patrols, every item of standard procedure they had missed. She had paragraph citations for the procedural violations. The constant rules mentions, done in that accent, really made her seem like an Imperial trooper scribbling “I AM LEGIT REPUBLIC” on her helmet.
But she got me the information to start. Whoever was screwing with our patrols might have other information I needed, and I sure didn’t have any other leads, and it was possible that Colonel Gaff didn’t actively encourage Imp operatives to send officers he disagreed with into deathtraps. It was possible.
I thanked her, not quite sincerely, and excused myself.
Jorgan fell into step beside me on our way out. “That was…interesting. I’ve had drill sergeants more relaxed than that woman. Not to mention that accent.”
“Yeah, well. Imps aren’t known for their capacity to relax.”
“There’s a story with her,” said Jorgan. “But I don’t think we’re getting it until we finish this little job.”
“I have a better idea. We skip the story.” I rubbed my neck and growled. “Let’s go. Sooner we find Needles, sooner we get off this rock.”
It was, I realized as we mounted up outside, the longest exchange I’d ever had with an Imperial without physically attacking. The encounter felt more than a little unsatisfying. But I had work to do. Eh, with any luck she would’ve wandered into a rakghoul nest by the time I got back to base.
And in happier news,
The blinds in the guest room are good enough for modesty, but in full sun they don’t do a lot. The city creeping around Mama’s well-groomed garden domain blocks the daylight from most angles, but sunrise at a certain time of year, the time with brisk winds and crackling leaves, seems to pierce straight through the old faux-wood slats.
I lay in bed, on my back, one arm laid alongside my head and the other bent around my head to rest my hand on the first. It wasn’t a great pose for circulation but I felt too comfortable to move. Elara was just at the corner of my eye, a shape under covers. We had been doing this for a while. I didn’t have to be pasted to her to feel close.
“Mm,” I said, in spite of myself.
“Mm,” echoed Elara.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I said.
“You didn’t. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.”
Elara sighed. “I like the sunrise.”
“So do I.”
“I’m glad we have this to come back to.”
“I’ve…I’ve thought about getting a separate place. Somewhere on this planet, if you’d want.”
There was a quiet moment. “That sounds like settling down, Major.”
“Would you like to?”
“Mm. Only if we still get these sunrises.”
“Noted. Sunrise nonnegotiable. I’m going to annoy the hell out of the next real estate agent we meet.” I waited, but she didn’t say anything else. “Elara?”
“I was just thinking.” She swung her legs off the bed and sat up, her figure streaked in horizontal yellow stripes. She didn’t even neaten anything up. “It’s one thing to be a guest here. It’s another thing entirely to own a piece of it. For myself. With you.”
“Only if you want to.” I waited.
I could hear her smiling. “We would need a nursery. And a room for your mother when she comes to visit. Or my brother. Or your brother.”
“Agreed on all counts.”
She brushed a tousled lock of hair back behind her ear. “So that’s decided.” She twisted, her profile lined in warm gold, the join of her mouth turned very slightly up. “Did you have a place in mind?”
“The city’s changed so much in seven years. Maybe someplace around the edges. I’m not sure.” Something very obvious occurred to me. “Then again…it doesn’t have to be here.”
“Vierce,” she said, quietly and emphatically. “This place is in your blood.”
“But I have a guest room here. Coruscant, Elara, city living. In an actual city. Or Corellia. If you were serious about a planet that’s got a pulse you can keep…it’s yours for the asking.”
“You remembered.” She smiled sweetly. “We don’t have to decide today.”
But what certainty did I have for tomorrow? I stopped. I was supposed to notice that kind of thinking, and not let it faze me. To be honest, her in the light, her sleep-mussed sea-green tank top hiked halfway up her pale back, her hair glowing warm where it clung to her cheek and neck…that’s what forever would look like if it had the option.
Maybe after breakfast, then. We could afford to build this future right. I sat up and smoothed her tank top down. She eased against my chest, and hand-gathered her hair, and I looped my arms around her while the morning held its lazy deliberation over whether to send the sun the rest of the way up. On the right kind of day you might not be sure of it. There was no hurry.
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