There Is No Death, There Is Only Wrath (NDOW)

Transcription

There is no death, there is only Wrath
Titles
There is no death, there is only Wrath
by bright_ephemera
Published on the SWTOR Fanfic forum, 5/31/2012-6/28/2012
http://www.swtor.com/community/showthread.php?t=468830
Dark Side Warrior Nalenne's class interlude is distressingly interrupted when an old friend returns to
take up residence on her ship. Hijinks ensue.
Class story spoilers for the Sith Warrior line crop up throughout, along with semi-frequent Sith Inquisitor
spoilers. Other class spoilers are marked by individual entry.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
NALENNE, the EMPEROR'S WRATH and ALL-AROUND TERRIBLE PERSON;
her sister NISELLE the SITH INQUISITOR and EVIL BITCH;
supporting characters RHO the JEDI KNIGHT, NIC the SMUGGLER, and DAHLIA the IMPERIAL AGENT; and
Companions VETTE, MALAVAI QUINN, JAESA WILSAAM, LIEUTENANT PIERCE, BROONMARK, and
ANDRONIKOS REVEL
TABLE OF CONTENTS
There is no death, there is only Wrath .......................................................................................... 1
DRAMATIS PERSONAE........................................................................................................................... 3
TABLE OF CONTENTS ............................................................................................................................. 4
THERE IS NO DEATH, THERE IS ONLY WRATH .................................................................................. 8
Meet the Crew.................................................................................................................................... 8
1. In which Vette skips town and Nalenne reads comic books ....................................... 8
2. In which Quinn shows up...................................................................................................... 10
3. In which Pierce freaks out and Quinn criticizes............................................................. 12
4. In which Nalenne improves herself and Broonmark helps ....................................... 14
5. In which Nalenne seeks her sister's advice and Quinn gets worried ...................... 16
6. In which the men of the house consult with Nalenne ............................................... 18
7. In which ghost experts pay a visit (I/II) ............................................................................ 20
8. In which betrayal surprises no one, but something else surprises several (II/II) 23
9. In which Vette and Jaesa get home ................................................................................... 24
10. In which Jaesa gets a word in edgewise ........................................................................ 25
Assorted Adventures .................................................................................................................... 27
11. In which Nalenne tests Quinn's limits .............................................................................. 27
12. In which Vette and the crew check the couch cushions .......................................... 30
13. In which the crew discusses life after death and also pop music (I/II) ................. 32
14. In which Jaesa observes the crew (II/II) .......................................................................... 35
15. In which Nalenne reads comics and Jaesa expresses concern ................................ 38
16. In which we remember why it didn't work out and a fight starts ...................... 40
17. In which Pierce observes Tatooine and Vette disapproves (I/IV) ............................ 42
18. In which the crew explores Tatooine and rakghouls (II/IV) ..................................... 45
19. In which the rakghoul mystery is largely ignored (III/IV) ........................................... 47
20. In which each contributes according to his or her talents (IV/IV) ..................... 50
21. In which Quinn customizes 2V-R8...................................................................................... 52
22. In which Nalenne gets a job update and Quinn comments ...................................... 53
23. In which Broonmark marks the occasion and Vette wonders why ................... 56
Meta Notes 1 ................................................................................................................................. 58
24. In which Jaesa's reading habits come to light ............................................................. 59
25. In which a widow and her husband reminisce ............................................................. 61
26. In which Nalenne asks Pierce a long-suppressed question ...................................... 63
27. In which Nalenne meets someone and some disapprove (I/II) ................................... 65
28. In which the Hand shows its hand (II/II) ........................................................................ 68
29. In which Nalenne reports to her sister ........................................................................ 70
Meta Notes 2 ................................................................................................................................ 73
30. In which Quinn gets jealous ............................................................................................. 74
Crossover: Jedi Knight .................................................................................................................. 76
31. In which the Wrath arrives on Ord Mantell (I/III) ........................................................ 76
32. In which Nalenne mixes it up with a Knight (II/III) ........................................................ 79
33. In which Nalenne leaves Comic-Con Ord Mantell ....................................................... 84
Adventures in Troubleshooting ................................................................................................. 87
32. In which Vette and Pierce take Nalenne to Korriban (I/IV) ..................................... 87
35. In which a question is asked and answered for Quinn and Nalenne (II/IV) ......... 90
Meta notes 3 ................................................................................................................................ 92
36. In which Nalenne examines her vows (III/IV) ................................................................. 93
37. In which the crew seeks Voss answers (IV/IV) ......................................................... 96
38. In which Nalenne encounters a Gree representative ................................................ 98
39. In which Jaesa bothers Nalenne about Quinn ........................................................... 100
40. In which Nalenne witnesses a Republic operation................................................... 102
41. In which Nalenne and Quinn have a serious talk........................................................ 104
42. In which Nalenne catches Quinn conspiring ............................................................... 107
43. In which Jaesa's extracurriculars draw scrutiny .................................................. 110
44. In which Nalenne kills time (and wampas) on Hoth ................................................ 112
45. In which Quinn cleans house ........................................................................................... 114
46. In which Nalenne practices and Pierce helps.............................................................. 116
47. In which Nalenne and Quinn review the paperwork................................................ 118
Crossover: Smuggler ................................................................................................................... 121
48. In which Nalenne finds a smuggler (I/II) ....................................................................... 121
49. In which Nalenne argues the job with a smuggler (II/II) ......................................... 123
Staying Busy ................................................................................................................................... 126
50. In which Vette speaks her mind to Quinn .................................................................... 126
51. In which Broonmark cheers Nalenne up ....................................................................... 128
52. In which Quinn first extends an olive branch ........................................................... 130
53. In which we see an average day in the life of the Wrath ...................................... 133
54. In which we reaffirm heroic opinions .......................................................................... 134
55. In which a distraction tactic is considered ............................................................... 136
56. In which Vette badgers Nalenne to try something new (I/II) ................................ 138
57. In which Nalenne talks to herself (II/II) ...................................................................... 140
Branching Out ................................................................................................................................ 142
58. In which Nalenne calls someone ................................................................................... 142
59. In which Jaesa and Vette talk it over with Nalenne ............................................. 146
60. In which Nalenne follows Jaesa into trouble ........................................................ 147
61. In which Nalenne corresponds with Lord Grathan and complains about love
........................................................................................................................................................ 149
62. In which the crew drinks, drinks, and makes merry ................................................ 151
63. In which Nalenne and Pierce test Broonmark's work while Quinn disapproves
........................................................................................................................................................ 153
64. In which Pierce cleans up after Servant Nine ............................................................ 155
65. In which Nalenne and Jaesa analyze a military attitude ....................................... 156
Crossover: Imperial Agent .......................................................................................................... 158
66. In which Nalenne subcontracts to Imperial Intelligence (I/II) ............................... 158
67. In which Nalenne and Dahlia chat (II/II) ........................................................................ 159
Investigations ................................................................................................................................ 161
68. In which Nalenne checks her romantic status ......................................................... 161
69. In which Nalenne has a full life and avoids Vette's latest idea .......................... 162
70. In which Pierce pays his debts ........................................................................................ 164
71. In which Nalenne questions Quinn's behavior ............................................................. 167
72. In which Nalenne finds a change vis-à-vis Servant Nine ....................................... 169
73. In which Quinn extends a second olive branch ......................................................... 171
74. In which Quinn compromises his principles ................................................................. 173
75. In which Nalenne gets a hand from Cipher Nine (I/III) ............................................... 175
76. In which Nalenne and Quinn consult with the Voss (II/III) ..................................... 177
77. In which Nalenne and Quinn look at a rock (III/III) .................................................... 179
Determination ................................................................................................................................ 181
78. In which Nalenne wallows in self-pity ...................................................................... 181
79. In which Nalenne lays out Plan B ................................................................................. 184
80. In which Nalenne faces the Imperial government .................................................... 185
81. In which Vette points out a flaw in the plan ............................................................ 187
82. In which Nalenne takes a day off with Vette and Jaesa ...................................... 189
83. In which Nalenne has and holds while Broonmark questions............................ 192
84. Side commentary: In which Nalenne considers two non-superheroes ............. 194
85. In which Nalenne gets an unexpected tip (I/II) ............................................................ 196
86. In which we beseech the powers that be for class rebalancing (II/II) .............. 198
87. In which we learn the price of disobedience .............................................................. 201
88. In which Quinn and Nalenne don't start .................................................................... 203
89. In which Niselle and Nalenne talk some more ........................................................... 206
90. In which the crew considers their options ............................................................... 208
91. In which Nalenne, Pierce, and Broonmark raise hell ................................................. 211
92. In which Quinn lets the cat out of the bag ................................................................ 213
Problem ............................................................................................................................................ 216
93. In which Niselle makes Nalenne an offer she can't refuse (I/VII) ......................... 216
94. In which Nalenne locates Niselle (II/VII) ....................................................................... 217
95. In which Nalenne confronts the Jedi Knight (III/VII) ................................................ 219
96. In which Quinn makes demands (IV/VII) ......................................................................... 221
97. In which two couples discuss (V/VII)........................................................................... 224
98. In which Nalenne and Quinn go to Belsavis (VI/VII) .................................................. 226
99. In which Nalenne and Quinn verify things (VII/VII) .................................................... 229
Epilogue ............................................................................................................................................ 231
100. In which things are no longer normal ....................................................................... 231
Parting Notes................................................................................................................................. 235
APPENDIX .............................................................................................................................................. 238
Supplementary Links .................................................................................................................... 238
THERE IS NO DEATH, THERE IS ONLY WRATH
Meet the Crew
1. In which Vette skips town and Nalenne reads comic books
http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=4507317&postcount=1
There once was a Twi'lek named Vette
(Who, astoundingly, ain't been killed yet)
Though twice caught and enslaved
She just kept getting saved...
But she's not so well off now, I bet.
"Hey. Lord High Sith-a-muck."
Nalenne looked up from her comic book. Vette stood in the doorway between the holo room's reading
nook and the bridge. "Yeah?" said the Sith.
"Weren't you supposed to get a job?"
"I have a job. Emperor's Wrath? You were there." She tapped the datapad to the next page, where
Duranium Man was demonstrating his superiority over the costumed Jawa called Blizzard in both
suaveness and combat prowess.
"Yeah, but...have you noticed he hasn't asked you to be wrathful lately?"
"All in good time."
"And you're not worried about the silence?"
The Pureblood looked up again. "Should I be? The Hand tells me the Emperor's sleeping off some
disagreement, so that's fine. As for anybody else...a few weeks back I pummeled my second Dark
Council member into the dirt. And my sister got herself a chair there, too. Nobody's going to mess with
me, I'm getting paid from the Council's coffers, and if anybody does come to kill me I can deal with 'em."
"You sure about that?"
Nalenne set the datapad aside - Blizzard's ice beam was malfunctioning mid-party-trick and Duranium
Man was obviously setting up for some killer one-liner, but the Twi'lek was getting worrisome here - and
stood up. "I'm pretty sure. Don't get any ideas. That collar's still on."
"The one you lost the remote for a year and a half ago? Yeah, I'm quaking here." Vette tapped the slave
collar on her neck and wrinkled her nose. "I can't just wander off without raising major questions, but
you can't punish me."
Nalenne raised her arm for a backhand.
"Um, you can't shock punish me specifically," Vette said quickly. "You are so sensitive, you know that?
Ever since - well, before Baras. Ever since you killed Captain No-Fun, you've been wound up as tight as
he used to be."
Ouch. "Thanks. I hadn't noticed."
"Just sayin'. If we're not on the job, I was thinking of maybe a Nar Shaddaa outing? There's this festival
they have every year down in the Nautolan projects - sounds sketchy, is sketchy, but it's a great time,
and I figured a week-long vacation..."
"You mean a week-long bender."
"Vacation. That's what I said."
"You don't seriously expect me to come with you."
"No, I expect you to let me whisk Jaesa away. I get girl time, you get...don't ever tell me what you get, I'll
just enjoy the aroma of blood that'll be there when I get back, knowing you had a good time."
Never mind the sarcasm; there were magic words in there. "If you'll take Saint Jaesa off my hands, I'll fly
you anywhere you want."
"Yess! Hyperspace coordinates are already in. We'll be out of your hair before you know it. Or would be,
if you had hair." Vette bounded off.
Nalenne settled back on the couch and tapped the datapad again for a full-page portrait of Blizzard
getting thrown through the window of a skyscraper's observation deck. Duranium Man stood in the
jagged remains of the windowframe, fiddling with a couple of freshly loosened screws near his shoulder,
looking down at the falling Jawa: "Next time? Try stealing the jet thrusters first."
2. In which Quinn shows up
There once was a man from Balmorra,
Took a job with a Sithy signora.
Got in over his head,
Double-crossed her (it's said),
Now he's food for Corellian remora.
"Pierce! Broonmark! Good news! We're gonna go party on Ilum."
Pierce and the Talz both showed up in the holo room at Nalenne's yell. "Finally," said Pierce. "Thought I
would die of boredom here."
"We've been out of combat for all of eighteen hours, Lieutenant."
"Yeah. 'Bout time I got some action." Broonmark blipped agreement. "Hey, you think Jaesa and Vette
will stay gone this time?"
Nalenne sighed. "We can always hope. But no. You know I have to keep Jaesa on a leash or she'll start
using her goody-goody power to bring about goody-goody freedom for the good of all."
"We could just kill her."
Nalenne hesitated. It was true, and it had been brought up many times before. "No. I went through too
much to get her here."
"And now you won't stop whining about - " Pierce finally caught the look on her face. "Right. I'll just get
my rifles prepped, then get us on our way."
She nodded and went to her quarters. She stepped in, let the door fall shut behind her, finished fiddling
with the datapad, set it aside, and looked up.
Malavai Quinn was standing there.
I killed you. Panic kicked Nalenne's Force awareness up - there was a weird empty feeling where he
stood instead of the glow of life, but it was definitely him. She drew her saber and slammed a crushing
blow into...open space.
"I am already dead, my lord," he said apologetically.
She blinked. She blinked again. He looked all right for a dead guy. Immaculate uniform, which was funny
because when he died it had been pierced and slashed in multiple places by a lightsaber. She took a
minute to marshal her thoughts. He stood at a taut parade rest and waited.
"So are you a Jedi now?" she said. "One with the Force? You couldn't even see the Force!"
"My lord, please," he said disgustedly. "It's nothing like that. I have a job to finish."
"That job being killing me? Little late for that, don't you think? Your old boss is dead."
"I know. I am no longer required to try to harm you."
"So why. are. you. here."
"I am not certain, my lord. I believe that, contractual obligations being what they are, I am still slated for
service to you. It was iterated in the recruitment speech, the wedding vows, and four other occasions. At
the same time, when I found myself...aware, I had an obligation to Baras to kill you. I thought it
advisable to temporize until one of these requirements was lifted." He shifted his nonexistent weight
and looked around her bedroom. "Now I'm here."
"What if I don't want your service?"
"You could try divorce, my lord. I'm not sure it would fully resolve the situation."
"So what'll it take to get rid of you?"
"I don't know yet."
Nalenne considered. She experimentally jabbed at Quinn's midsection. Her saber passed through the
apparition with zero resistance. She had never heard of a non-Force ghost before.
"I'm not happy about this, captain."
"It is not what I would have chosen myself, my lord."
"Hmph. Well, apologize and then you can return to your old quarters for now."
"Yes. Well. I'm...sorry?"
"For what?" she prompted.
"Trying to murder you?"
"And for opening fire on that Jedi back on Belsavis."
"My lord..."
"Say it."
"I'm sorry for opening fire on the Jedi. Never mind that he was obvious trouble and - "
"Now for letting me sweat when I thought General Faraire was going to get away, rather than bothering
to call me with the plan."
"Were you keeping a list?"
"Oh yes."
Some time later she finally let him go. This was bad. The thing about the people she killed was, they
were supposed to stay dead and out of the way and definitely not show up back at her ship.
Worse, Quinn must already have realized that she couldn't enforce discipline on an incorporeal being,
not without much better fine Force control than she had. She had to hope he would obey her out of
habit.
Hmm, or out of the hope that proper service would let him free.
3. In which Pierce freaks out and Quinn criticizes
A perfidious bastard named Quinn Hold on. That's not fair. Try again.
What I'm trying to say
Is the man was okay
'til he shivved me. I did that jerk in.
The boys were out on errands planetside. Nalenne needed time alone to think.
For quite some time she failed to think of anything useful at all. At some point ghost-Quinn emerged
from his quarters and approached her. "My lord."
"You."
"I am not surprised you converted my quarters to storage..."
"Nor should you be."
"...but I did not realize you were going to expand your collection of hard-copy comics."
"Problem?"
"I was willing to tolerate the entire two-hundred-year run of Captain Kaas in the cargo bay, but this..."
He huffed. "Are you really collecting Scarlet Nexu?"
"Do you have a problem with Scarlet Nexu?" No wonder I killed him.
"In all our time together you always assured me you were heterosexual, but ‘story-free softcore’ is too
charitable a term for that entire degrading - "
"Quiet, they're coming back. Also you haven't even seen the Insatiable Nexu run they did with - never
mind. Boys!" Quinn hurried to the bridge. Pierce and Broonmark banged their way onto the ship and
into the holo room, both carrying full cases of plant samples. "Drop it all off in the freezer, then have a
seat. I have news."
Once they were settled on the reading-nook couch, she cleared her throat. Time for a very awkward
talk. "Good work today."
Broonmark burbled. Pierce frowned. "Wait a minute. Just realized, if I'd placed those charges this
morning on the pillar over, angled things just a bit, the whole mine would've collapsed much neater.
Must be losing my touch."
"Pierce?"
"Listening, milord."
"Wait a minute, you blew up a mine this morning? I sent you out to pick flowers!"
"Job came up," muttered Pierce. "It was legitimate."
"I won't even ask. Something's come up, and I can't explain it and I can't kill it and neither can you, but it
looks like, um, Captain Quinn's not half as dead as we all thought. Sit down, Pierce. He’s a ghost or
something. No Force required. I don't understand it, either. Come on out, Quinn."
The captain took up his old station at her side.
Pierce grunted and lunged. Good, good, no blaster fire. The big man charged through the apparition at a
sprint, hands outstretched to grab and shove his opponent. Instead Pierce stumbled and stopped just
short of the far wall. He whirled, growling.
Quinn turned to face him, brushed imaginary dust off his sleeve, and sneered. "I see you still can't quite
get your hands on the things you want." He looked to Nalenne and back to Pierce so fast she couldn't be
sure anything had happened.
Still, the intent was obvious. "Quinn. Cut it out."
"I apologize, my lord," he said calmly.
"So our new job is going to be destroying him for good," she announced to the living.
"M-my lord?" said Quinn.
She ignored him. "This ghost thing isn't my area of expertise, but there must be something we can do."
Pierce rolled his shoulders. "Guess there's an upside to this after all. I was sorry to miss out on your first
death, captain."
"You're sorry in many ways, lieutenant."
"Oh, you're gutsy when you know I can't hit you."
"Boys? Boys." Before she could think of anything else to say, a freaking torch came into her field of view,
followed by Broonmark. The Talz - when had he moved? - jabbed the flaming brand - and where had he
gotten a flaming brand!? - at Quinn, who looked annoyed but not at all hurt to be sharing space with it.
Broonmark stared at the apparition and the hissing flame that, despite burning exactly where Quinn's
heart should be, didn't seem to distress him at all. "Plork," said the Talz. Nalenne knew that one:
"Trouble."
MilaniGrey: This is actually amusing. Keep it going! ^_^
Kalterien: roflmao Nice!
Please keep this coming, ever since the Dooz stopped writing I've had a void to fill.
4. In which Nalenne improves herself and Broonmark helps
Thank you both!
Judging by my last few brainstorming sessions, Nalenne will keep me busy for a
while.
A Talz’s insane killing spree
Caused his clan to eject him. So he
Dealt some payback extreme,
Then continued his dream
With a Sith who endorsed him, guilt-free.
Nalenne took her time massaging the anti-aging cream into her subtle Sith face ridges that evening. The
glare of the vanity lights on her mirrored face was almost reassuring: here were her fine red-skinned
features, corrupt yellow eyes, and of course ridges that were not going to start sagging before she
turned forty, oh no. Everything was going to be just fine.
But as she often did when she was feeling troubled, she found herself heading to the cargo hold.
Broonmark was there as usual, using a special setup of motorized fine-tuning instruments to convert the
motions of his huge hands to the fine work of reducing plant samples to useful compounds. He looked
up when she entered. His upper left eye quivered in that way that meant he was pleased to see her.
She puffed her cheeks a couple of times and carefully gave herself the small Force-choke variants that
would prep her vocal cords for inhuman sounds. "Brrr bloop bip?" It was supposed to be "More killing?"
The idea was to ask about more Talz lessons, but every time she asked for a translation for 'Talz lessons'
she was given 'killing."
Broonmark nodded. "Blip." He moved silently across the cargo bay to settle on the big couch in the
corner - Nalenne liked to have couches available everywhere on the ship - then patted the cushion to
get her to sit. She snuggled up close to his furry, somewhat acrid-smelling arm. He pulled the datapad he
had personally modified for translation out, tried briefly to tap things with his enormous clawed fingers,
then gave up and raised the datapad to his proboscis. The edges of it started a genuinely creepy wiggling
motion that sufficed to navigate the datapad to the right subject.
Broonmark then handed the pad to Nalenne. "Today," she read, "Review 'murder,' learn 'massacre' and
'mayhem.' Murder. I've got this. Brrrrrp'kop?"
The datapad had realtime translation capability, but it didn't even deign to translate that. Broonmark
spoke in Talz while she read the translation of his words: "That was 'clan breakfast dance.' Try again."
As the lesson progressed, they got to talking about life. They always did. A mishmash of burbling,
speech, and datapad reading kept the conversation going.
"I just don't know how I'm going to get rid of him. You know? Dead people should stay dead."
The translator balanced on Broonmark’s leg glowed while he blipped. "Agreed. Maybe Sith clan kill
traitor again?"
"If I could, I would."
“Is bad to leave enemy stuck. We will find killing. Until then we will kill other things.”
She patted his arm. "You always know just what to say."
A reassuring, nonverbal series of clicks. Then: “Now, try to say ‘mayhem’ again. Sith clan cannot distract
us.”
Earthmama: LOL!! That was so touching and hilarious!! I've never given Broonmark much thought, I love
your take on him!
Iamthehoyden: This is excellent, it made me do the snort-cough-laugh thing at work...always a good
thing
/subscribing
5. In which Nalenne seeks her sister's advice and Quinn gets worried
I haven’t forgotten Vette and Jaesa! The stage was already set to get crowded in the next few issues…so
let’s leave them to their partying on Nar Shaddaa for now.
This entry has spoilers for a Sith Inquisitor plot ability known by the end of the Act 2 intro, and for the
Sith Inquisitor’s endgame title.
A pirate on vengeance fixated
Met a Sith in the desert, and traded:
A tit for a tat,
I find this, you kill that,
And from there, well, their romance was fated.
Nalenne knew she only had a faint chance at raising her sister on holo. Niselle had been impossible to
reach ever since that Lord Zash had given her a ship.
She got Niselle's pirate, at least. Andronikos Revel gave her one of his sly smiles. "Wrath, good to see
you.” He had a nice voice. It was eerily similar to a hundred voices she had heard before, but that rough
edge never got less pleasant. “The Kessel offer's still up, if you've given it any thought. I know some
guys. It'd be a good time."
"I do not need the likes of you setting me up with the likes of anybody. No offense. Is Niselle alive?"
"Yeah. What's up?"
"I need to meet with her in person. I have an academic question."
"Didn't know you'd turned scholarly."
"I don’t want to. That's why I'm asking her. Any chance we can meet up on Korriban, soon?"
"Yeah, sure, let me check with her on scheduling." He looked off to one side. "Uh, eight would-be
assassins down, two to go. Shouldn't be more than half a minute."
"You answered the holo during someone’s attempt on your wife's life?"
"Eh, she insisted. She cares about family."
Quinn walked in out of nowhere and took up his old station by the holo controls, except a little to one
side this time, so as to be off camera. Nalenne ignored him. A crackle and a distant, inhuman scream
sounded through the speakers. Andronikos smiled tenderly and extended an arm to wrap around
Niselle's waist as the Sith Pureblood moved into the holo image.
Niselle was Nalenne's twin, except meaner, uglier, sicklier, and generally a horrible brat. Her ascension
to the Dark Council had only made her native arrogance worse. And she had taken up two truly stupid
habits, namely, trying to remove Nalenne from the equation and trying to set Nalenne up with a suitable
man. She didn’t appear to see a contradiction between the two. In between assaults, though: "Lenny,"
the newcomer cooed, "it's so good to see you!"
"Nis, you zapped right through the gift I sent you!"
She laughed, looking offscreen. "Cute, but those weren't yours. You're far too old-fashioned to send
hirelings after me. Come now. What news from the S.A.B.E.R. Helicarrier?"
Andronikos snickered. He did that every time anybody said the name of Nalenne's ship. Well, let him.
"Listen, Nis, I had a question that's right up your alley. Suppose I had a spirit. And I needed to kill it."
Quinn stared pleadingly at her. She ignored him.
Niselle's bleach-pale eyes lit up. "You want me to eat it?"
"No! No! Do not do that! I want him just...I don't know, dead-er, or else put in a body where I can kill
him properly, or something."
"It might be easier for me to eat him," said Niselle.
Quinn made a small desperate gesture and started trying to use the holo controls. His fingers passed
right through the console.
"You wouldn't want to," said Nalenne. "He's not even a Force-user."
"Oh, yuck. I really wouldn’t, then. He would probably lessen my power just taking up space. And I can't
imagine the sensation of all that worthlessness would be pleasant..."
Worthlessness? Nalenne’s compulsive need to disagree with her sister kicked in full-force. "Watch who
you're badmouthing! He’s all kinds of useful. He's clever and strong-willed and brilliant and, and he's got
personal power written all over him!"
A wide-eyed Quinn was frantically slashing his hand across his throat. Meanwhile in the holo image,
Niselle was raising her hairless brow. "Now you're making me want to eat him again. Who is this
morsel?"
"My ex-husband."
"Ha! You're joking."
"Hardly. He's haunting me - I mean, walking around whining, but incorporeal - and I really want to stop
it."
"Oh, this is rich. Does your crew know?"
"Half of them do."
Niselle kissed the top of Andronikos' head and smiled her trademark sinister smile. "Lenny, I think it's
time I came to visit."
6. In which the men of the house consult with Nalenne
This entry contains spoilers for the Sith Inquisitor's endgame title.
A lieutenant in Taris's muck
Figured somehow he must get unstuck.
When a rampaging Sith
Gave a chance to come with,
He angled a transfer - what luck!
"My lord, your sister will devour me the minute she steps onto the ship."
Nalenne folded her arms and fixed her husband's ghost with a cold stare. "I consider this an acceptable
solution. Not optimal, since you would then be yammering at her for the rest of her life, but – wait.
Wait, yes, then she’ll know what I had to live with. Eating you would be perfect!"
"Have you considered that simply letting me follow through on my original promises - to serve your
interests, to aid you as I failed to do - might resolve my ghostly state?"
"Serve me? You'll, what, rattle your chains at the bad guys until they go away? That'll show 'em.
Tomorrow Niselle is coming. And I'm bumping you off. Again."
"And what do I do until then, my lord?"
"Complain, I imagine. Here, have a seat. We need to talk house rules."
She pulled Pierce from his quarters and Broonmark from the cargo bay and sat them both down on the
couch. She settled deep in her big cushy armchair. "So here's the thing. The captain here is going to, um,
stay, until we figure out how to get rid of him. - Have you tried just leaving?"
"It doesn't work, my lord. Even if I step through the walls out to space, if I drift too far I get pulled back
to the bridge."
"So he's stuck," she concluded.
Pierce snorted. "I like this. He'll be no more useless than he already was, and now he can't raid the
freezer to finish off every ice cream carton I buy."
Nalenne glared at Quinn. "You told me that must've been Vette!"
Quinn shot a dirty look at Pierce. "I told you a great many things must have been Vette, my lord. I
apologize."
"That's it. Time to lay down some rules.”
“I will submit to any terms you set, my lord,” Quinn said meekly.
“Pierce, Broonmark, I'm open to suggestions."
There was this thing the muscles in Quinn’s neck did when he realized he had catastrophically
miscalculated. They did it just then, very hard.
“First things first,” said Pierce. “He doesn’t outrank me anymore.”
“Yes I do, lieutenant.”
“No you don’t, captain,” said Nalenne.
Quinn turned to her with an outraged look. “But you just called me…you haven’t forgotten how ranks
work, my lord?”
“I fired you. I’m only addressing you by the title for old times’ sake.”
“I would’ve been promoted by now,” grumbled Pierce, “if everyone aboard hadn’t agreed that it would
be cripplingly awkward to call me ‘captain.’”
Broonmark leaned over to hand Nalenne the datapad he had modified for translation, then burbled.
"Rules: No hiding in walls," she read.
"No watchin' us or eavesdroppin’ from where we can't see him. Ever." said Pierce.
"Both reasonable. I'll add no reporting our activities to outside parties of any kind." She made a face at
Quinn.
"I haven't done that in months, my lord,” he said with an air of wounded dignity.
Pierce cupped a hand behind his ear. "What's that, dead-boy? Can't hear you over the sound of how
completely worthless your word is. Oh, also stay out of everyone’s quarters.”
“No trying to kill Sith clan,” added Broonmark.
“And no more blaming your own bad behavior on everybody else," said Pierce.
“Is that enforceable?” asked Nalenne.
"Simple. He says something bad about anybody ever, or claims random chance struck, hit him. He's
probably lying to cover himself."
"But he's always said a lot of bad things about people."
"Well...yeah. You should've hit him then, too."
Nalenne looked to Broonmark for support. “Sith clan artillery speaks truth,” quorked the Talz.
“Hm. Hit him, you say.” Nalenne threw an experimental kick at Quinn. It passed right through him, of
course, while he stood there looking all stern and annoyed. “Seems I missed my chance,” she said sadly.
7. In which ghost experts pay a visit (I/II)
This entry contains spoilers for the Sith Inquisitor's endgame title.
Consider this Dark Council seat:
To win it's a glorious feat.
But this chair, I fear,
Sees more butts in a year
Than an ashtray on Hutta's Main Street.
Nalenne touched down on Korriban just in time to hear Niselle’s incoming signal. She met her sister at
the door. Her sister had two men in tow, Andronikos and…
"Who's this?" demanded Nalenne.
"Lord Draven, Wrath. It's an honor." The human youth made an extravagant bow. Killer baritone voice. It
seemed that Niselle was out of the "distract Lenny with something different" phase and back to “play to
Lenny’s taste”: Draven was tall, slender, dark-haired, very neat. Unlike Quinn, the newcomer had stylish
dark robes and awfully nice brown eyes.
"What is he doing here?" Nalenne asked Andronikos.
"We thought he might, uh," said the pirate, looking to his wife.
"Lord Draven is an expert in localized hauntings," said Niselle smoothly. "And he's single."
Nalenne placed a hand on her lightsaber's hilt. "How nice. Draven, how did you dispose of the last
'localized haunting' you had to deal with?" Cue the stammering from another random handsome guy
they probably kidnapped off the street on the way here.
“A combination of research and Force rituals on the haunting site identified the malevolent force, at
which point I summoned the ancient Sith by name, we fought a bit, had a long talk about who he was
and why he was killing everyone who stepped over the threshold, and ultimately he agreed to stick
around the dwelling and protect it on the current owner’s behalf, as an alternative to me annihilating
him.”
Niselle gave her twin a "Ha-ha, weren't expecting that, were you?" look.
“Hmph. Fine. Come in.”
Pierce nodded to Nalenne and her guests on his way out the door. He had perimeter duty. Niselle had a
habit of bringing in apprentices as surprise backup during her attacks.
Nalenne led her visitors into the holo room and yelled. “Quinn?”
Obligingly, Quinn strode through the wall from the direction of the bridge. Nalenne watched her sister's
eyes: surprise, amusement, curiosity, excitement, calculation, hunger.
Quinn was right. Nis is going to devour him on the spot.
Since nobody was talking, Nalenne stepped in. “So. Everyone. This is my ex-husband Quinn. He’s
supposed to be dead, but he’s bad at it. Quinn, you know my sister Darth Niselle of the Dark Council, her
husband Andronikos, and this is one Lord Draven, who I’m hoping will know how to exorcise you.”
Draven eyed Quinn up and down. “That’s your haunting?” he said uncertainly.
“In the fle- um, in the…yes.”
“But there’s no Force presence whatsoever. He may as well be empty air.” Draven leaned forward to
pass a hand through Quinn’s face. “Is this a trick? A hologram?” Quinn scowled at him.
"If I were to pick out a hologram roommate, it wouldn’t be him," said Nalenne. Quinn scowled at her.
"I feel nothing. What have you done?" said Draven.
"Killed him, months ago, half a galaxy away."
"That doesn't explain this. There’s nothing here but...what you see. This is impossible."
“I’m sorry to hear you say that, my lord,” said Quinn. Draven started, but didn’t say anything in reply.
“Don’t tell me,” drawled Niselle, “that your keen senses can’t distinguish anything? I was told you were
the best.”
Draven’s upper lip twitched. “And I was told there was something more than some projection trick.”
Niselle, harpy that she was, pressed on. “Really? Nothing? Your expertise yields ‘there’s obviously no
ghost here apart from the one standing there watching us’?”
“I could sense a true spiritual presence a hundred meters away,” he snapped. “I don't know what you're
playing at, but that's not a ghost - " he pointed to Quinn while glaring at Nalenne - "and she's one
wedding ring up from ‘single’!" - he pointed to Nalenne while glaring at Niselle. "There's nothing for me
to do here!" The handsome Sith Lord stormed out.
Nalenne stared after him, mouth hanging open.
"Honestly," said Niselle, "do you have to keep wearing that stupid ring?"
"Shut up, Nis."
"Get a life, Lenny. You know, I am just about done with you. Come on, Andronikos, showtime."
And that could only mean one thing. Niselle had circled around to Nalenne's back; Andronikos was still
standing in front of her. He drew his blasters and shrugged. "Sorry."
Nalenne slapped his weapons from his hands with one hard Force wave. "It's okay. I appreciate you
looking out for her, you know?"
"Yeah." And just then a sparking force stung her back and froze her in place. Fast as thought, Andronikos
grabbed a small sharp object from his belt and whipped it toward her eyes.
to be continued
Ayanka:
Ashlian:
That's a horrible moment for a break... Pretty cruel to make me (and others) wait for the
next part^^
That's a horrible moment for a break... Pretty cruel to make me (and others) wait for the next part^^
Yes! On the other hand, definitely sod your schedule....post at will
That's a horrible moment for a break... Pretty cruel to make me (and others) wait for the next part^^
bright_ephemera: Ah, well, see, Andronikos kills Nalenne in the first sentence of the next post. After
that the whole series is about Niselle taking all of Nalenne's stuff and laughing.
(...that was a lie. Though it would be interesting to see a series in which a Sith Inquisitor devours a
powerful representative of each of the other three Force classes and has to run around listening to the
contradictory knowledge and opinions of three other very vocal player characters...)
8. In which betrayal surprises no one, but something else surprises several (II/II)
"BROONMARK!" Nalenne screamed. She would have dodged the incoming projectile, but she couldn’t
move for the crackling energy grip on her back. Niselle. Lightning-thingy. Damn. She squeezed her eyes
shut and tensed what muscles she could control to move aside the second Niselle's stun broke.
Which it did, almost before that thought could finish. You’re losing your touch, sister. Nalenne lurched to
one side. Andronikos' blade stung her temple and fell away. Nalenne drew her saber and flowed into an
attack. The pirate was fast, but he was disarmed and she was angry. One solid hilt blow to the head took
him out of the fight.
The next strike of Niselle's lightning was less arresting. The twerp only had so many tricks. Nalenne
activated her saber and shoved the blade into the flashing Force arc, pushing towards her sister.
Broonmark finally saw fit to show up. Even at a sprint he was close to silent. Niselle actually yelped
when his fist took her neck.
"Don't kill," warned Nalenne, and hurried to shove Niselle to the ground and kick her in the head. "Let's
be nice about this." She kicked her sister again. "You realize, Nis, I still have no interest in harming you."
Nis managed to look arrogant while lying flat on her back with a fresh head injury. "You might not have
had before I started trying to kill you, but now you've got self-defense to claim. Everyone knows what
you did to Baras."
"Baras wasn't my sister!"
"Good thing, too. If you managed to look that bad with my genes I shudder to think how being related to
him would've worked out for you."
"The girl who bleached and blackened her way from red skin to Rattataki impression in a single Dark
Side binge wants to tell me I’m ugly? I could kill you right now. Brat."
"You won't. Sissy."
"I could kill your stupid pirate."
"You wouldn't."
"Worried that time, eh?" Nalenne chuckled maliciously. "So what stopped you from holding me in place
while your man put a needle in my eye?"
"I was interrupted. Your man punched me in the face.” Niselle jerked her head towards Quinn.
Nalenne goggled. “Get out. Really?”
Quinn himself was standing by the wall, watching the two of them. "My lord. You know I cannot
physically affect anything, but I surmised that reflex may not distinguish between solid objects and solidlooking objects coming at the eyes. I was able to break her concentration long enough for you to
escape.” He looked down to where the pale lord of the Dark Council was sulking on the floor. “Please
understand, my lord, I hold the utmost respect for your position. But my duty lies with the Wrath.”
“Stow it,” snapped Niselle.
“Quinn, you’re a genius. Only you would say ‘I have no body, Force powers, or tech, guess I’d better go
turn the tide of battle anyway.’ I love how you- ” Nalenne checked herself. “I’m still mad at you.
Just…wow. You hit my sister.” Her delight bubbled into laughter.
Niselle was checking her chronometer. “It looks like my combat support isn’t coming,” she said in a tone
of supreme irritation, “so I’m done for the day.”
“Combat support. More apprentices? Pierce probably took care of ‘em.”
Niselle struggled to her feet. “He probably did,” she said sourly. “You should teach your pets to respect
Sith.”
“You should teach your Sith to be even vaguely worthy of respect. My captain punched you in the face.”
Nalenne started giggling again.
Niselle slung Andronikos’ arm over her shoulder, gave Nalenne one last dirty look, and left.
9. In which Vette and Jaesa get home
A Twi’lek of devious mind
Can do well, for a slave of her kind.
A bribe and a nudge
May help even a drudge
If it makes her lord kindly inclined.
Vette clattered up the gangplank and into the holo room with shopping bags lining both arms and
several bright scarves wrapped around her lekku. “NALENNE. You would not believe what I got.”
“I’ll see whatever you’re carrying and raise you a bigger surprise. You first.”
Vette tittered – she actually tittered – as she disentangled herself from her bags, spreading them out on
the holo room floor. Jaesa struggled into the room with another load, most of which was probably also
Vette’s. The Twi’lek knelt over one shabby plastifiber bag and pulled out a brown paper package. “I was
chatting up this guy at the festival, right, and we started with some fascinating common ground about
whiskey opinions, so we talked some more, and he had this incredibly cute brother….”
Jaesa interrupted. “What Vette means to say is, the boy’s brother was trying to sell some things to get
the money to go offworld, and…”
“And he had. I kid you not. I had it checked and everything. Two out of the three issues from the o-ri-ginal print run of Dark Son.”
“No. Eighty percent of all its hard copies were destroyed in the Sacking of Coruscant.” The reimagining
of Ultraguy as a stalwart Imperial was an artistic tour de force that had been wildly popular at
publication, back in the previous war…until the Republic cut off exports of the “subversive” story,
launched one of its only successful SIS missions ever to destroy stray hard copies in Imperial space, and
rounded up most of the print run back on Coruscant for “safekeeping.” Barbarians.
Vette handed her the package. “Read ‘em and weep. Or cheer, or whatever.”
With the swift trembling care of a collector Nalenne opened the package. There was the cover she had
seen pictures of, and as she took stock of the two paperbacks she noted that they were both near mint.
Beautiful. This was history made tangible, art made satisfyingly real. No holoscan distortions, no
nothing, and she was the first of her friends to get her hands on one. “Vette, you’re amazing. Thank you.
Thank you. I swear if I ever find the remote control for your collar I’ll take it right off you.”
“That’s what I thought,” beamed Vette. “I charged his asking price plus his bar tab and the entire cost of
our vacation to your account. So you said you had a surprise?”
“Oh. Yeah. My dead husband’s back, ghost or something, he’s hanging out on the bridge. Would you
look at this, Darth Marr is going to flip his lid when he finds out about these….”
“What?” said Jaesa.
“Are you still here? Shoo,” said Nalenne.
10. In which Jaesa gets a word in edgewise
A padawan, Jaesa by name,
Sought a virtuous master to claim.
But what snagged her instead
Was a wacked-in-the-head
Once-Light Sith going bad without shame.
Quinn walked in from the bridge before Vette and Jaesa could go to investigate.
“Huh. Cool trick,” said Vette.
Jaesa smiled a terribly sweet puppyish smile. “Captain Quinn, but…how?”
“That is still uncertain, Jaesa. All we know is that I am here, I am limited to staying near the ship, and
apart from the ability to speak I am entirely unable to interact with the physical world.”
“Look at this,” said Nalenne. “Look at this. Perfect. He must’ve had it in shrink plastiform.”
“Could be worse,” said Vette. “You could be stuck with only being able to knock people’s hats off, or
only being able to feel your nose but not scratch it.”
“Yes, thank you for that insight,” Quinn said flatly.
“Happy to help.” Vette started gathering her shopping bags to bring them to her quarters. “Have fun
now.”
“Why did it happen?” said Jaesa. “Were you some kind of latent Force user, or was there some ritual laid
on you, or….”
Nalenne squealed. “And they have the tear-out dataslips for ordering other series! I’d forgotten
Coruscant Comics still does that! Crazy Republic….”
“I’m glad you’re back,” said Jaesa. “But I hope it’s not unpleasant for you.”
“I trust we’ll find a solution soon.”
“I’ve never even heard of something this…this amazing. If there’s anything I can do to help…”
“There’s no need for concern, Jaesa.”
“I am trying to be compassionate here.”
“Has that ever had the slightest effect on me?”
“I’m having these framed,” said Nalenne. “They’ll go up in my room. This is gorgeous.”
“I’m just…this is astonishing.” Jaesa paused, radiating gentle concern. Quinn stoicked*. Jaesa sighed. “I’ll
just go to my quarters, then. And meditate on the mysteries of the Force.”
“Yes, please do.”
Nalenne hugged the paperbacks to her chest and yelled down the hallway. “I’ll find your collar remote,
Vette. I will. And set you free. Wow. Thank you so much.”
Vette leaned out from her quarters. “If you really want to thank me, re-dump the boyfriend.”
Nalenne started. “Hey. He is not my boyfriend.”
Jaesa looked stricken. “He’s not?”
Nalenne rolled her eyes. “You noticed the homicide, right, Jaesa?”
“But…he’s back. It’s going to be okay.”
“It’ll be okay because as soon as we figure out how to get rid of him, he’s gone.”
“Good call,” yelled Vette.
“But master, that’s terrible,” said Jaesa. “I know how much you mis-“
“Jaesa, you are ruining the moment. I just got the collector’s catch of a lifetime, and all you want to talk
about is - is irrelevant, that’s what it is. Quinn bad. We can talk about that later, okay? Go meditate or
something.”
Jaesa looked uncertainly at Quinn. Quinn held her gaze and tilted his head back in Nalenne’s direction
with a “Listen to her” expression. The Jedi sighed and went to her room.
“Where have you been all my life, beautiful,” sang Nalenne softly as she sashayed off to her own
quarters, holding the Dark Son close. Quinn watched her go with a very odd look on his face. Eventually
he shook himself out of thought and returned to the bridge.
*Stoic (v) (past tense stoicked): To stand stoically. And refuse to respond in a normal human manner to
anything. See also “being Malavai Quinn.” (etymology: this is not a real verb)
*Stoic (v) (past tense stoicked): To stand stoically. And refuse to respond in a normal human manner to
anything. See also “being Malavai Quinn.” (etymology: this is not a real verb)
Earthmama: ROFL!!! I honestly laughed out loud at that one.
Assorted Adventures
11. In which Nalenne tests Quinn's limits
A rare Alderaanian flower
Pops and closes in less than an hour.
The fact that santaal
Reproduces at all
Is a proof of life's limitless power.
"Quinn. With me."
The Helicarrier had left the major war zones for the time being and was presently settled in a remote
alpine meadow on Alderaan. The crew was doing nothing in particular, except for Broonmark, who was
out nerf-hunting with his bare claws.
Ghost-Quinn, who had spent the last several days being ignored by everyone on board, hurried to fall in
step while Nalenne debarked and set out through the tall grasses. A cool breeze blew down from the
nearest snowy mountain peak. The sun rode high in the cloudless azure sky, its brilliance reflected by a
thousand alpine flowers. The riot of blossoms and delicate curling vines formed, with the accidental
elegance of the wild, an exquisite arabesque roadblock. Nalenne drew her saber and started cutting a
path.
"If I may ask, my lord," said Quinn, slowing his steps to match the person who actually had to interact
with matter, "what are we doing?"
"Determining whether you're tethered to the ship or to me. What did you do between waking up and
showing yourself, anyway? You said you were aware while Baras was alive."
"Yes. The immediate...urges...were to defend you and kill you, so I thought it prudent to stay just
outside the ship's hull until one of these requirements resolved."
"That was considerate."
"I was not eager to repeat an assassination attempt just then."
“You’ve still got a noticeable post-Baras gap to account for.”
“I was trying to be dead. I was unsuccessful.”
“Failure after failure. You’re really on a roll.” On a whim she stopped hacking at the vegetation and
turned to hack at Quinn instead. The saber passed through him, of course, which struck her as terribly
funny. Quinn stood patiently while she ran through a wild series of slashes and jabs. Eventually she got
bored and pressed on, continuing her straight line away from the ship.
"I have a thought," she said. "Suppose, just for a moment, that I don't want to destroy you. Or that I
can't. I need to figure out a use for you. What have you been up to ‘til now, anyway?"
"I can't use a console, so I have been practicing other things. If I concentrate very hard while I'm
standing in your comic books I can pick out one page at a time to read."
"See? Scarlet Nexu came in handy."
"My lord! I was in the cargo hold with Captain Kaas most of the time. Broonmark can corroborate."
"It's nothing to be ashamed of. You're allowed to enjoy a little over-the-top fan service."
"There's nothing to enjoy in that tripe. The physical improbability alone...you realize that with a bust like
that she would break her own nose just on the upbounce during those gymnastics."
"So you did look at some!"
"Broonmark drove me out of the cargo hold and back to my quarters - and your Nexu collection. He
threatened to...do things...if I didn't get out of his fur."
"'Do things'?"
"I don't want to talk about it, my lord."
"I could just drop some Captain Kaas in your quarters."
"It would be appreciated.”
"Anyway. I can't use you in combat except as a distraction, but you can still do your analysis and
planning thing, right?"
"Given the relevant information, certainly."
"I'll assign 2V as your aide."
"Must you?"
"The alternative is solitary confinement with my comic books."
"2V will suffice, my lord."
"He'll handle consoles and things for you. But he won’t help you act against me. You have to behave this
time.”
“I will. You have my complete allegiance.”
“Hmph. Heard that one before.”
“My lord, I still assume that I’m here because of an unpaid obligation. I can only fulfill that by serving
you, as I promised to.”
“Uh-huh,” she said skeptically.
“If I pay off my debt, I’m hoping for an easy release.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Especially if the alternative is getting killed by you again. The first such experience was extraordinarily
unpleasant. You weren’t gentle about it.”
“Yeah, well. I was upset.”
There was a long, awkward silence.
In time Quinn slowed and stopped, looking everywhere but at Nalenne. "I've never gotten this far from
the ship without snapping back."
“Okay, so you can anchor on me or the ship. That gives a bit of flexibility – hey, can you teleport back at
will?”
“No.”
That answer came too quickly. “Have you tried?”
Quinn’s gaze flicked left and right in that way he had when he thought she was being unreasonable. “I,
er, yes. Yes, I’m trying just now. It seems I am unsuccessful, my lord.”
Nalenne helpfully brought out her saber and jabbed through his torso.
“Is that supposed to help, my lord?”
“If you’re trying to be elsewhere? It might. Universal principle of nature: things try to avoid lightsabers.
You’re failing. Again.”
“I’m beginning to suspect you just enjoy stabbing me.”
“Oh, tell me I’m unjustified there, droid-boy. I dare you.” She deactivated and sheathed her saber.
“Come on, let’s go home.”
12. In which Vette and the crew check the couch cushions
A collar, for Imps, can suffice
To show social status precise.
From an officer’s black
To a Sith’s weird hoop rack
To a slave’s cold controlling device.
“Hey. My lord. Wakeup time.”
Nalenne lay flat on her back and cursed her sudden alertness. Then she cursed Vette. “Are you joking?”
“Nope. It’s couch-tossing day.”
“It was couch-tossing day last week. We’re not up for another three.”
“Really?” said Vette. “I’m bad with time. Guess we should do an out-of-cycle one, since you’re already
awake.”
“If your slave collar remote were in the furniture, we’d have found it by now.”
Vette jumped onto the foot of Nalenne’s bed. “Go.”
Nalenne sat up fast, pillow in hand, to hit the Twi’lek’s shoulder. “Fine.”
They started in the cargo bay. They always did. Jaesa and Broonmark started in the crew quarters. Pierce
ran secondary checks/cleanup. Every box, every case, every databank with a loose chassis, every seat
cushion, every couch frame: opened, turned, searched.
“What would you do if you were free, anyway?” asked Nalenne as the two of them fished around in the
depths of the reading-nook couch.
“Leave forever,” chirped Vette cheerfully. “See what the old gang on Nar Shaddaa is up to.”
“But you visit them every few weeks anyway.”
“The collar kinda dampens the fun. It gets old, having everyone who sees this slave-without-a-master
checking my collar registry and calling you to inform you I’ve ‘escaped.’”
Nalenne moved on to the first of three armchairs. “I feel I should remind you that the slave collar wasn’t
my idea.”
“Seems like keeping track of your stuff wasn’t an idea of yours, either.”
“Hmph. Anyway, I’m struggling to envision you holding down a job as a free woman.”
“I have skills. I can sneak, rob, kill. Act as secretary and reality buffer to disorganized overgrown
children.”
“I would miss you.”
“I could go a whole week without being party to any deranged killing sprees. No more up-close views of
Force chokings or wild abuse of authority or that cringeworthy evil laugh.”
“’Cringeworthy’?”
“Yeah. The cackle’s kind of awful.”
“She’s right, milord,” said Pierce from across the room.
Nalenne sniffed. “Well then, maybe you really would be happier elsewhere, Miss Judgy.”
“Hey,” called Jaesa from where she knelt by the holoprojector. “No remote, but I think I’ve got a new
contender for record-size dust bunny.”
Pierce whistled at the sight of the dust-fur-hair monstrosity Jaesa held aloft. “Nice. That’ll definitely
make top three in the hall of fame.”
“I’m glad there’s an upside to my suffering,” sighed Vette.
“Hey,” said Nalenne, “don’t be like that. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll buy back one of your Twi’lek artifacts
from whatever thieving conqueror has it so your friends can do their cultural thing with it, okay? Plus
one shopping spree for you. And you don’t have to come with me on my next enforcement run.”
Vette smiled graciously, not to say triumphantly. “Suffering slightly lessened. For now.”
13. In which the crew discusses life after death and also pop music (I/II)
Before we start, the dust-bunny competition inspired images of what I imagine was a much earlier
couch-tossing day, in which, say, Pierce got a good dust bunny contender while searching for Vette’s
remote. (The top five dust bunnies, by the way, are displayed in a case in the cargo hold.)
And so Pierce walked into the holo room cradling the mass of hair and dust. “Take a look at this. Believe
I’m taking first place with this one.”
Broonmark looked over from where he had been picking through a crate of stuff. The Talz stretched and
then ran his claws over his back, around his shoulders, and down his arms, mashing the two resulting
masses together into one furball that dwarfed Pierce’s item. “Bllolorp.”
Nalenne giggled. “You know that doesn’t qualify, Broonmark.”
The Talz growled. The low menacing sound needed no translation. Then: “Sith clan unfairly excludes us
from the great hunt.”
The Nexus Cantina’s a place
That can mix every species and race.
Though conservatives may
View the place with dismay,
It’s a scene some are glad to embrace.
"I never believed in an afterlife," said Quinn to nobody in particular.
Pierce looked up from his supper and snorted. "Neither did I. But I'm faster to question the great beyond
than I am to question milord's word when she says she offed you, so, there you have it."
"It is known that the hunting grounds beyond the white veil are endless and beautiful, with eternal
glorious battle, but no Talz has ever returned to give us word. The clan passes through the veil but once,
and so we must trust that the words of our ancestors are true to the mystery, and face it ourselves
without fear. If Sith clan's dumbest one has returned, surely the veil itself has rejected him and denied
him the killing frenzy that true warriors are granted," said Broonmark.
"Anybody catch that?" said Vette.
Nalenne shook her head. "I got hunting, death, battle, death, death, terror, my weak stupid prey, death,
killing, battle. I'm missing a bunch of stuff in between."
"Sith clan makes progress in understanding," buzzed Broonmark affectionately.
"Aw," said Nalenne, who had learned to recognize his few encouraging statements long ago.
Vette looked dubiously at the Talz. "He's pretty focused with the vocab lessons, huh?"
Nalenne shrugged. "We talk about what we have in common."
Jaesa leaned forward. "I’ve been doing some reading, but I simply can't find documentation of afterdeath appearances from non-Force users except in the case of catastrophically huge Force
disturbances."
"I didn't Force choke him that hard."
Quinn frowned and opened his mouth, but closed it again without saying anything.
"I would hope not, master. I'll keep looking, but it's very hard to find a starting point for an
investigation."
Nalenne scarfed down the last of her meal. "Good to know. Let's do some talking about not-Quinn.
Anything good on the concert circuit back on Dromund Kaas? Vette?"
"You told me - let me recall your exact phrasing - 'Tubby Stripes and the Yowlcats' isn't acceptable, even
though the Cath Attack – which is what they’re actually called – their music is fine - "
"They sound like mankas in heat."
"Every pop act rimward of Taris does that nowadays."
"Every pop act rimward of Taris is stupid and wrong. Next suggestion?"
"Green Nebula's up at the Nexus Room in a couple of days."
"Green Nebula. That mixed-species band with the Nautolan frontman?"
"The one you think is totally hot? Yeah."
"I do not think Leb Gesheel is hot."
"You remembered his name? I thought you ‘just happened to overhear’ one ‘tolerably okay’ song of
theirs once."
"That doesn't change the fact that I never said he's hot."
"You were thinking it. You're thinking it right now. And last time we walked by a shop that was playing
that single with his big vocal solo, your eyes practically rolled back in your head."
"I'm sensing we should buy tickets," rumbled Pierce. He was grinning. Evilly.
"What," snapped Nalenne, "one for watching the band and then two for watching me?"
"Three," blipped Broonmark.
"Shut up," said Nalenne.
"I think it's healthy," said Jaesa. "You know you haven't really...since...I mean..."
Vette threw up her hands. "What she means is, you haven't kept more than two seconds’ eye contact
with a man you weren’t killing ever since Quinn over here kicked it. - And, Quinny, let’s not kid
ourselves, you're off the market now.”
Quinn struggled to remain expressionless. “Did you just call me ‘Quinny’?”
“Yup. You gonna stop me?”
“My lord….”
Nalenne felt a small rush of malicious glee. “You’re on your own now, captain.”
Vette pressed on. “Come on, Nalenne. With your name to throw around I can snag us front-row seats
for all the eye contact you can handle. Ooh, and maybe backstage passes..."
"I don't want to see Green Nebula."
"Shoulda thought of that earlier."
Nalenne fled.
Broonmark watched her go, his four eyes winking in a thoughtful pattern. "Sad. Sith clan’s dumbest does
not want to move from clan chief’s favored side. Clan chief does not want to move on from clan’s
dumbest. But time and battle move on. Always they move on. We would gladly kill a thousand thousand
creatures if it could help."
"Huh?" said Vette.
Broonmark shrugged. "Brrrrlb."
14. In which Jaesa observes the crew (II/II)
There’s risk in a Sith Lord, er, ride;
Faint of heart? You should leave it untried.
When planning protection
Don’t fear the infection –
Fear who’s going to wake at your side.
One AM. Jaesa woke up to hear Pierce and Broonmark returning to the ship, chattering and laughing.
Pierce, she noted, had an impressive bass singing voice.
Three AM. Jaesa woke up to hear an individual banging onto the ship and bumping from wall to wall on
the way to Nalenne's room. Meanwhile, Pierce still had a great singing voice.
Six AM. Jaesa woke up to hear Vette knock something over in the holo room, but otherwise stealthily
sneak back to her quarters.
Nine AM. Jaesa got up for breakfast. Vette was already in the mess, nursing something that appeared to
involve both citrus fruit and Tarisian bloodglobes. And salt. And a weedy-looking garnish Jaesa couldn't
even identify.
"Morning," said Vette. She was halfway bright-eyed despite the sleep and booze and whatever else of
the night before.
"Enjoy yourself?" said Jaesa.
"The plan backfired." Vette smiled dreamily. "Leb reeeeaallly liked me, though."
"You actually...?"
"Oh, yeah. Heh. The backstage chat went great. Couldn't really get him stuck on Nalenne, but the
drummer stepped up to the task."
"You took the guy Nalenne's into and left her with the drummer?"
"I don't think she could tell the difference at that point. We were both pretty drunk."
Pierce padded into the mess. "Morning. The Wrath's cryin' again. You can hear it from the holo room."
Vette looked suddenly guilty. "Wait, you think she did notice?"
Pierce folded his arms across his chest. "She going to keep doing this every time she gets laid? Seems to
defeat the point, if you ask me."
"She's making progress. There was actual eye contact this time," said Vette. "Small steps.”
Jaesa stood up. "Maybe I should...."
"Sit. Down." said Vette. "We give her some time, we get her some ice cream, we find a hotter guy to try
again with later."
"Ice cream I can get," said Pierce, heading toward the door.
"You rock," said Vette.
"Anything for the boss," said Pierce.
At some point Broonmark had come to listen outside the mess door. The Talz moved aside to let Pierce
through, then blipped something and turned to go himself.
"Hold," said Vette. "If that was 'I'm going to kill the drummer,' don't."
Broonmark slumped and gurgled sullenly.
"He didn’t do anything wrong. She’ll be fine," said Vette.
Quinn sidled into the room. "Vette, Jaesa, I have not been breaking the no-eavesdropping policy,
but…you can hear the Wrath sobbing from here. What happened?"
"The interesting people went out to that concert we mentioned," said Vette. "A good time, fun was had
by all, especially what's-his-name the Nebula drummer and our good friend the Wrath, now she's doing
her traditional morning-after thing."
"She never had hysterical morning-after breakdowns with...that is, I don't see how you can call it
'traditional.'"
"Funny you should say that. Before she met you she was fine. A crazed evil Sith, but a happy one. And
with you I never had to step in. But since then? She is a wreck, and a boring one at that.” Vette’s pale
blue eyes caught fire. “I've known her longer than you have, captain, and now that you're back I can
safely say that you are the worst thing that ever happened to her. Twice. So you will just stay out of
sight today. And possibly tomorrow, too."
"I don’t take orders from you,” he said stiffly.
Vette glared up at him. "Name one way you could possibly improve Nalenne's love life right now."
Quinn hesitated. "I...could stay out of her sight today," he said slowly. "And possibly tomorrow, too."
"That's what I thought."
Jaesa watched him retreat. "You're good at this," she told Vette.
"I know. Nalenne’s an arrogant shallow psychopath, but I like to make sure she’s all right. She grows on
you, you know?"
"I know. And it's better when we're looking out for each other."
"Well. Traffic control accomplished. Make sure Broonmark doesn’t sneak off the ship, okay? I’m going
back to sleep.”
iamthehoyden: Bright, as long as you want to keep writing these, I'll keep reading. Quinny - too funny!
And although I've heard nothing but bad things about Broonmark when I actually level my baby sw I'm
probably going to have your version in mind when I get him and it'll all be good lol.
Adwynyth: Yes! Yes! Keep going...I love it so far.
MilaniGrey: Yeah. I've been reading all these SW fan fictions and I'm starting to actually write out the
canon of my SW on paper. You guys are ruining me, here. :P
bright_ephemera: I'm glad you enjoy!
And although I've heard nothing but bad things about Broonmark when I actually level my baby sw I'm
probably going to have your version in mind when I get him and it'll all be good lol.
Broonmark is a walking possibility fountain exactly because he's such a non-character. He's a Talz who
likes killing everything. His Codex entry elaborates: He likes killing everything even more than most Talz
like killing everything. He thinks betrayal should be met with death, which may seem like a good
character handle until you recall that he thinks just about everything should be met with death. All other
aspects of Broonmark? Blank slate. Draw what you will, if you think he's worth the effort. I hated him
when I played through my Warrior, but I think exploring this mental image will help me like him more
when my next Warrior comes to town.
MilaniGrey: Yeah. I've been reading all these SW fan fictions and I'm starting to actually write out the
canon of my SW on paper. You guys are ruining me, here. :P
bright_ephemera: I find it interesting how much fanfic centers on the Sith Warrior. Check out the forum
index and you'll see what I mean. This specific crew really, really gets people up and writing. I love it.
15. In which Nalenne reads comics and Jaesa expresses concern
Redemption’s a difficult run,
Rarely wanted, and more rarely won.
Though the virtuous path
Beckons even the Wrath,
Perdition’s just too damn much fun.
Czex Lerka stood at the top of the fictional Lerka Tower, looking down at the colossal Senate building on
Coruscant. He held a half-filled champagne flute in one hand. He spoke to the planet in general and the
hulking Mook One in particular: "Soon they'll call their session and rezone Sector Alpha-Zeta Nine...and
Lerka Corporation will be entirely free to mash the whole Domo cluster together into one great
superreactor!"
Mook One scratched his head and looked worried. This was his primary function in the franchise. "But
the Domo cluster has three trillion civilian inhabitants, Mister Lerka."
"In a type 13D reclamation zone, there are no civilian inhabitants." Czex gestured down at the Senate
building. "Hence the zoning amendment. Soon it'll be nothing but megafusion and profit."
"In the Empire," Nalenne muttered to herself, "he would've had this whole thing running months ago.
That bureaucratic glacier of theirs is the only thing giving Ultraguy time to save anybody." Such were the
plot difficulties of the Coruscant Comics universe. It was sad, really.
"Master?"
Nalenne set down the bootleg-loaded datapad. "Come in, Jaesa."
The young Jedi entered Nalenne's quarters and settled at the foot of the bed. Nalenne herself didn't
move from her curled-up half-submersion in a pile of pillows up at the headboard.
"What's on your mind?" prompted Nalenne, because Jaesa would sit there all pretty and doe-eyed and
expectant all day if not invited to speak.
"It's about Captain Quinn. Is he okay?"
"No. He's dead."
"He won't talk to me. Pierce is excessively hostile to him, and I think Broonmark is, too, though it's hard
to tell since I can't make out what he's saying. And Vette has started the cruellest speeches..."
"Ooh, that I'll have to hear."
"Master!"
"What?"
"Hasn't it occurred to you that he's probably in a lot of pain?"
"Hasn't it occurred to you that he deserves it?"
“You’re awful, you know that? You weren't like this when I met you."
"I was coming off a virtuous high when you met me. You showed up too late to stop my plunge into
glorious cruelty."
"There is still light in you."
"Not listening."
"Also I need some credits."
"Has it ever occurred to you I might be more generous with your allowance if you didn't always make
me angry first?"
"Has it ever occurred to you that I want to at least try to talk about the important things first?"
"Has it ever occurred to you that you're a complete nitwit?"
"Look who's talking, Darth 'Maybe if I'm mean enough he'll go away'! Because that approach has worked
for you so damn well that he came back from the dead to keep giving you the grief you deserve!"
Nalenne grinned. "I love making you mad, Jedi."
Jaesa frowned, which on that pretty baby face was nothing short of adorable. "Tell me you're okay, at
least."
"I’m worried. But we’ll sort it out."
"If you need anything, you know I'm here."
"I know. You're like a sister to me, Jaesa. Apart from where you're not a dark master bent on killing me
or setting me up with some stranger."
"And you're like some twisted sister-master-bully to me, Nalenne."
"That's the spirit. How many credits?"
"Ten thou'. There's this shelter I ran into on Nar Shaddaa that's distributing - "
"Don't care about the charity, hon, I'm just glad you're finding strategically irrelevant outlets for your
kindness. Consider the transfer done."
"Thanks. There's a little decency in you after all. Just...could you try to get everyone to ease up on
Quinn?"
"Don't push it."
Inzuher: Subscripted.
16. In which we remember why it didn't work out and a fight starts
Relationships comfortably rest
When never quite put to the test.
To view it too clearly
Or talk too sincerely
May shatter what’s fragile at best.
Nalenne poked her head into the bridge. Ghost-Quinn was right back where he used to be, or rather one
seat over while 2V-R8 sat at the console typing for him.
It was pleasant, seeing him at his old station. “You really are addicted to the information,” she said.
He turned without standing. “My lord. The war never rests.”
“2V is working out for you?”
“Oh, master,” said 2V, “I am honored to have this responsibility, and will discharge my duties in – “
“Shut up,” said Nalenne. “I’m talking to Quinn.”
“He is acceptable,” said Quinn. “Miserably slow at the controls, but he suffices as my surrogate hands.”
“You’ll tell me if interesting work comes up, right?”
He raised his eyebrows. “You work these days, my lord?” he said mildly.
“Don’t take that tone with me. You know I’m always up for a challenge.”
“I know you’ve been wasting your time with comic books and any insignificant brawl that takes place
sufficiently near a comfortable hotel room. I know you’ve been using the Hand’s silence as an excuse to
slide into absolute sloth while critical battles rage – “
“Whoa, stop there. Where is this coming from? Have you just been sitting around judging me and my
friends while you pine for lost relevance?”
“I have been observing. You don’t have friends on this ship, apart from perhaps the beast.”
Classic bloody form. Quinn in a bad mood was a bastard. “That’d be one more friend than you’ve had in
your life, preacher. I can’t believe I ever put up with this.”
“I can’t believe you managed to put forth the effort to meet my minimum standard.” Annoyance
highlighted his arrogance in an awfully attractive way. “What a struggle that must have been. Seeing
how quickly you dropped the pretense after you realized you couldn’t get me back into bed was most
illuminating.”
“You think I ever upped my game for you? Don’t flatter yourself.”
Vette ran onto the bridge and skidded to a halt. “Hey, I hate to interrupt the relationship drama, but
we’ve got a wing of Republic fighters coming in hot.”
“There’s no relationship drama going on,” said Nalenne.
“That’s another thing,” said Quinn. “You lie habitually.”
Vette scanned the room. “I’m gonna go ahead and guess that you can’t talk 2V through your old job
here, Quinny, so I’m thinking one of us has to – “
Pierce pounded in from the bridge corridor. “Milord. You an’ Vette will have to take the turrets.” He slid
into the pilot’s chair. “Let’s see if I remember how this goes.”
“You definitely remember how it goes,” ordered Nalenne nervously.
Quinn sneered. “If you make this a suicide run I will laugh, lieutenant.”
“Ha. Nalenne goes up, you won’t be laughing. I’m willing to bet you die with her. For good.” Pierce
flicked a couple of switches, prepping the Helicarrier’s shields. “One of the few prices I wouldn’t pay to
see you gone. Lucky you.”
“You couldn’t kill my lord if you tried,” said Quinn.
Pierce and Nalenne exchanged looks. “No, I think I/he could,” they said in unison.
“My lord! If I was unable to….”
“Oh, you want to start?” said Nalenne. “For one thing Pierce isn’t limited by your textbook tactics. For
another he doesn’t have the suicidal need to be physically present to monologue before a kill.”
“You only think that’s good because you lack the capacity to comprehend –“
“His traps don’t fire pew-pew blasters, they destroy whole city blocks. Killing a Sith? He could do it, no
droids required. Resourceful. Fearless. Cunning.”
“The lady knows a pro when she sees one,” muttered Pierce with a small dark grin.
“I’m resourceful, fearless, and cunning!” said Quinn.
“And dead,” said Nalenne. “He’s still light years ahead of you for killing power.”
“If that intellectual brick is your ideal, why didn’t you -“
Vette waved her arms. “Guys! Fighters? Go boom? Bad?”
“Right,” squeaked Nalenne, and left one smokingly angry Quinn behind while she ran to one of the gun
turrets. She checked the dusty controls to make sure everything was in order, then scanned the sky for
hostiles. It had been a while. But everyone on board knew that the dogfights were guaranteed to start
back up sometime.
iamthehoyden: I wants to know what happens next!! (Thank you for being prolific lol)
Ayanka: That's great, loads to read after a few days off... And of course, I'm very glad you did lie
concerning this horrible idiot Andronikos killing your Sith
17. In which Pierce observes Tatooine and Vette disapproves (I/IV)
A rakghoul-infected civilian
Seems special on Hoth or Dubrillion.
But wherever he’s cast,
His uniqueness won’t last;
He won’t long be one in a billion.
When Nalenne stepped onto the bridge one day, Pierce was leaning against the wall with the
exaggerated casualness he had when he was really excited.
“Morning, milord,” he said in an offhand way. “Interesting news.”
“Another Dynatech thermal detonator model out already?”
“Nah, you know their R&D cycle never kicks out anything new in less’n eight months.”
“I never knew that before I met you.”
“Like to keep you informed about what matters. No, there’s an alert out. Rakghoul plague outbreak on
Tatooine.”
“You mean my two least favorite things got together?”
“Dire warnings for everyone to stay away at all costs.”
“So you want to go?”
He smiled a thousand-watt smile. “Absolutely.”
“That’s stupid. We’ll all get bitten and die. Wasn’t getting away from rakghouls the whole reason you
left Taris with me?”
He raised one eyebrow ever so slightly. “Had a few reasons for leaving Taris, milord. Anyway, from what
I hear they’re cranking out vaccines as fast as the virus can mutate, so if we keep up with the shots it’s
fine. Nice change of pace from the sorry kids the Republic has been throwing at us lately. Not that I ever
get tired exactly of mowing down sorry Republic kids.”
“Ooh, yes,” said Vette from the doorway. “Let’s go back to Toaster Town and roll around in rakghoul
plague.”
“Ooh, yes,” mimicked Pierce in a high-pitched voice, “let’s go back to Nar Shaddaa and get plastered.”
“That plan is both safer and more fun,” said Vette.
“I bet there’s more money on Tatooine,” said Nalenne. “Assuming the Empire wants to clean this up.”
“We don’t want to discard planets this early in the war,” said Pierce. “I expect rewards are in the offing.
If nothing else, there’ll be Sand People to beat on.”
“Sounds like a good time.”
“You two are gross," said Vette.
“Some people just can’t be pleased,” said Nalenne. “C’mon, Pierce.”
“Pulling up hyperspace coordinates now.”
The trip didn’t take long. Nalenne browsed one of her favorite classic Duranium Man adventures on the
big nav computer screen while Pierce leaned over her shoulder and criticized the superhero’s weaponry.
Vette, presumably, sulked somewhere.
Nalenne closed her comic and moved aside to let Pierce take over when they reached orbit over
Tatooine. “Mos Ila spaceport, this is Fury class designate S.A.B.E.R. Helicarrier, requestin’ permission to
land.” Nalenne loved making him do this part simply because it was the only time she heard him
requesting permission for anything.
“Permission denied, S.A.B.E.R. We’re in a full state of emergency here with an uncontrolled rakghoul
outbreak. We can’t allow anybody coming or going.”
“My commander here is Sith and she wants to land.”
“My orders here come from the highest levels and you have to stay away.”
“We are damage control, you know. Fully qualified to assist with your little embarrassment.”
“Access denied, S.A.B.E.R.”
“It’s either let us land or have Mos Ila flattened ‘n’ sterilized from orbit, by order of the Emperor’s
Wrath,” said Pierce.
A pause. “You’re clear to land in docking bay 41.”
“That’s what I thought,” said Pierce.
Ashlian: Please don't feel any need to limit your weekly post count....I'm delighted to have so much to
read after a couple of days! I would not have guessed that a storyline involving a sith warrior could
consistently make me laugh out loud, but you manage it with ease
18. In which the crew explores Tatooine and rakghouls (II/IV)
The Stardream encountered a hitch:
Someone smuggled a rakling-beast, which
As expected, got free,
Had a mean biting spree,
And infected the crew. (Life’s a bitch.)
A stern-looking official waved at Nalenne and her crew as they exited the Mos Ila spaceport. “My lord,”
she called. “There’s a briefing on the screen behind me. If you must go out there, please listen to it in its
entirety and then report to our supply officer.”
The briefing could be summarized thusly: Blah, blah blah, very dangerous, you’ll probably get eaten, kill
all bitten people on sight. Blah blah blah. Sounded exactly like some parties Vette had dragged Nalenne
to in the past. Once the inevitability of any expedition’s self-destruction was established, the official sent
them on to a containment officer standing outside the spaceport next to a huge bin of folded
somethings.
The officer bowed. “My lord. Come to help us clear up this mess?”
“Come to get a good fight, but if it helps, that’s great.”
“It’s dangerous,” the officer warned. “Take this.”
Nalenne shook out the folded-up containment suit the man offered her. It was…orange, partly. Orange
and white and ugly all over. “Are you joking?”
“Rakghouls don’t joke, my lord. That suit is treated with a coating to neutralize their ichor and it’s
especially slashing-resistant.”
“That’s because no one wants to get close enough to something this ugly to slash it.”
“It works, my lord.”
“If any of your people take pictures while I’m wearing this, I will kill you all.”
He swallowed hard. “Noted, my lord.” Then he took a few more suits from the bin. “Um, here’s some for
your crew.” He looked up at Broonmark. “Except the…thing. It wouldn’t fit.”
Nalenne looked up, too. “You gonna be okay?”
Broonmark nodded. “Weak not-Sith clan cannot kill through broggg.” He tugged at his fur to illustrate
that last word. Stars knew the stuff was thick enough to stop most claws.
Vette grabbed a suit from the proffered stack. Pierce took the next one, then grinned wolfishly. “Pastyface here doesn’t need one.”
“Sir,” said the officer to ghost-Quinn, “it’s necessary for your safety.”
“It’s really not,” said Nalenne.
“B-but-”
“The Sith has spoken, soldier,” said Quinn. “Stand down.”
“Good man,” said Nalenne approvingly.
“I’m so sorry,” the officer mouthed to Quinn, even though Nalenne was still looking right at him. In
reply, Quinn merely stoicked.
Once the three people who could wear the containment suits were set, the party rode to the other end
of Mos Ila, where the yellow packed-dirt road sloped down to meet the desert sands. Quinn, being
otherwise unable to keep up, perched on the back of Nalenne’s speeder and tried to look dignified
about it.
At Mos Ila’s northern edge, standard long-range taxi speeders were lined up on a half-buried platform. A
dozen troopers in containment suits stood on the line between steel and sand, firing endlessly at wave
after wave of huge galloping rakghouls. Beyond the line of fire, clusters of rakghouls milled about in the
shadow of every boulder and pillar in sight.
Nalenne looked at Pierce. Pierce looked at Nalenne.
“FREE FOR ALL!” they howled, and charged.
*
That night they trudged back into Mos Ila covered in dirt, blood, and greenish rakghoul ichor.
“Good day,” blubbed Broonmark.
“That it was,” said Nalenne. “No cantina room for me, I’m going back to my comfy comfy comfy
ship…stars, I’m tired.”
“I’ve got places to be,” said Pierce. He looked down at Vette. "Wingman?"
“Sure thing.”
“What now?” said Nalenne.
"Cantina up there. Prime pickup grounds. Rugged soldier type who is seen treating his slave well is like
catnip to Imperials."
"And once he's hooked up I just play the sympathy angle anywhere I choose,” said Vette, tapping her
slave collar. “Works out for all."
"I love that you guys are so shameless. You do me proud. Have fun."
Pierce grinned. "I intend to."
19. In which the rakghoul mystery is largely ignored (III/IV)
There was an Imperial post
Staffed at half, or two thirds at the most.
It guarded some sand
And a huge empty land
And – rakghouls! Odds are, that fort’s toast.
The crew met up at Outpost Zaroshe, a sorry dustball on the edge of the Dune Sea. Word was that some
Republic frigate had crash landed to the north just before the outbreak occurred.
Jaesa, after a long thoughtful look at the outpost’s guards, offered to stay on and stand watch with
them. To bolster morale. Nalenne did not point out that the worst morale problem present was with
Jaesa, whose terror swelled to palpable levels whenever anybody mentioned the rakghoul swarms out
beyond Zaroshe’s fence.
Ghost-Quinn sat behind Nalenne on the speeder ride northward. The sandy hiss of the wind cut them off
from the rest of the crew.
“You don’t have to wear a visor for this ride,” she said. “What do you see when the whole world’s
unfiltered?”
“I see a considerable quantity of dust particles flying directly into my eyes, my lord. You’re not missing
much.”
They crested a dune and coasted to a halt. “Whoo-ee,” said Nalenne.
Everyone has seen the news holos of the wreckage of the Stardream: ragged pieces of ship strewn in a
rough line from west to east across a desert valley, surrounded by roving packs of rakghouls and the
infected unfortunates who had first tried to establish a perimeter.
“That doesn’t look healthy,” said Vette.
“There must be something in the wreckage that can begin to explain what happened,” said Quinn.
“Last one there’s a bormu-butt!” said Nalenne. She hopped off her speeder, readied her lightsaber, and
charged.
*
Quinn led 2V among the wreck’s remaining databanks, trying to extract something useful.
The rakghouls were innumerable.
"Disturbing,” murmured Quinn, peering over 2V’s shoulder at another cracked screen. “The logs here
suggest that the breakout went unrecognized and unreported for several days. It was interpreted as
food poisoning. The captain knew the signs, but he noted it in private and said nothing. As if silence
could save them…”
Nalenne cackled. “Three strikes, three kills! Whaddya think of that?”
Broonmark blipped and did a hard short charge with his vibrosword held out like a skewer. “One strike
three kills.”
“Full auto’s up,” said Pierce. “Haaaahh!”
“My lord,” called Quinn, “your medic is going this way. There must be a primary system log, but I can
only guess as to the location…”
Vette shot a leaping rakghoul off and away from Nalenne’s back. Nalenne didn’t notice. “You’re
welcome,” Vette grumbled.
"By the time this ship entered atmosphere," said Quinn grimly, "there was nothing human aboard. This
is appalling. Leaving aside the fact that rakghoul plague doesn’t wander by accident, where was the
military containment response? The captain didn’t have the resources to deal with this. Did no one
notice a whole transport falling silent?”
The battle rolled along the sands, combatants reeling from flank to flank of the valley, using chunks of
ship debris as walkways, cover screens, and projectiles. Most of the crew more or less stayed within
kolto-probe range of 2V as Quinn led the droid and the wave of chaos from databank to databank.
“The captain was former military. Where was his Republic when he needed it? He had a wife at home, a
young daughter. All any soldier could dream…but judging by these journal entries he still ended up
trapped, in his last days, knowing that it was already too late. He didn’t speak because he knew he was
already a dead man.” Quinn blinked hard and gestured aimlessly with one fist. “By whose hand? Did he
even ask before the plague took him?”
“Little busy here,” shouted Vette, hurrying to switch out an ion pack on her offhand blaster.
"Thirty! Thirty-one!" sang Nalenne, slashing her way over to cover the Twi’lek.
Pierce threw something and counted off three seconds. When the thermal detonator went off in the
middle of a rakghoul frenzy, he laughed out loud. "Twenty-five through thirty-six."
Broonmark’s full-voiced gurgle shook the ground. “ALL OF THEM.”
“When circumstances close in you don’t give up and wait. You press on. You carry out your duties, even
knowing how it ends. And if you’re smarter than I was, you look for another way. But this captain didn’t
even know who damned him…” Quinn raised his voice to a hoarse shout. "This way, my lord. If anything
remains of the supply officer, his effects may shed light on where the infection originated.” Quinn
motioned for 2V to hit a button on a big flickering console. Within seconds a huge half-mutated man
came bounding out of nowhere, hissing. “Still alive? Astounding. Can he talk? Can we subdue him?”
“WOOHOOO!” yelled Pierce, and gunned the newcomer down.
“Uh, Pierce?” said Vette.
“Just check his pockets, wimp,” said Pierce.
“Yuck. 2V can take care of that,” said Vette.
2V did.
“My lord, when you get a moment,” called Quinn as 2V delivered the mutant’s datacard to the nearest
computer. Nalenne trotted up and signaled her crew to keep a tight defensive circle.
“What’s the word, captain?”
Quinn shook his head, hard, before making eye contact with anybody. “I have learned much of how the
plague got here. And what cost it exacted. Now I have a record of one, a Patient Zero, the first to display
signs. An ordinary passenger, but he may be our best chance of locating the ultimate source. Whatever
that first victim has become, my lord…I think it’s still at large.”
“More to kill!” said Broonmark.
“Hell yeah!” chorused Nalenne and Pierce.
“You just had to encourage them. Didn’t you,” said Vette.
“That investigation may have to wait, my lord. Command at Mos Ila has transmitted orders to bring any
biological samples we’ve located…” Quinn looked at Pierce, and Broonmark, following his gaze, peeled a
ribbon of rakghoul flesh off the soldier’s containment suit “…to the Ridgeside sentry post for analysis.
The staff there will want to know what has transpired. And what remains to be done.” He looked off into
the distance. “We have to find who did this. This must end.”
Nalenne wiped sweat from her forehead. “Yeah, sure, great. Guys, we’re coming back tomorrow!
Mayhem awaits!”
iamthehoyden: Great memories of the rakghoul invasion. I was lucky enough to actually be leveling my
trooper on Tatooine when it hit. Stayed there all week, well past when I should have shifted to Alderaan.
Good stuff!
Ah, rakghouls...that was an exciting week. My poor impoverished Niselle was leveling on Tatooine and
kept blowing up because she couldn't scrape together the 2000 credits for an immunization. (Fresh new
server, nobody to spot her the cash.) Nalenne would've been laughing her ass off if she knew her
sister were that badly off. Good times, that. Good times.
20. In which each contributes according to his or her talents (IV/IV)
The Sand People have it quite rough;
As if desert and sun weren’t enough,
Their visitors all
Hear a clarion call
To kill them and loot all their stuff.
The following day was long and gloriously violent. Nalenne and her crew carried a thick coating of dust,
ichor, and blood to Ridgeside Sentry Post well after sunsdown.
“That was brilliant,” said Nalenne.
“Sith clan brings glory,” said Broonmark.
“Dunno if Patient One had answers – wasn’t in a condition to talk – but whoo-ee, he had a hell of a
death cry!” Pierce turned and high-fived Nalenne as he spoke.
“I can’t feel my arms,” said Vette.
“Nice fighting, though, Vette,” said Nalenne.
“Thanks.”
“And I owe you about a week straight in the best spa in known space.”
“You sure do.”
“Sand Clan mission also great,” said Broonmark.
“Ha! Spreading that latest tweaked virulent strain around? Brilliant,” said Nalenne.
“Take samples to craft tomorrow’s attack: clever,” said Broonmark.
Pierce guffawed. “Seeing the whole Sand People village light up at sunsdown with the glowy-eyes the
infected have?”
“Plague ‘em ‘til they glow!” cried Nalenne.
“Shoot ‘em in the dark!” shouted Pierce.
“Yeeeaahh!” they yelled together.
Quinn sped up to reach Nalenne’s side. “My lord, I have completed my investigation into the source of
the rakghoul outbreak and submitted my report to Imperial High Command.”
“You did? I thought you were with us.”
“2V was with you for the medical support, my lord. Jaesa and I left to do actual work.”
Nalenne blinked. “Really?”
Jaesa caught up on Nalenne’s other side. “Yes, master.”
“Well, uh, good job! I’ll submit your names for commendations. Except you, Quinn. You’re dead.”
“The credit should be yours, my lord.”
“Interesting. And you’re still keeping a straight face. Have you ever said that sincerely?”
“Always, my lord. Your infecting and slaughtering every Sand Person from Ridgeside to Mos Ila is what
cleared the way for Jaesa and myself to investigate."
“He didn’t give you too much trouble?” Nalenne asked Jaesa.
“Far from it, master. We talked quite a lot. Not only did we successfully trace the beast-smuggling-gonewrong that led to this outbreak, I gained valuable insight into the harsh realities of a desperate mission,
the times you have to make truly hard choices, and the psychological torture of living your last days
knowing that your life is already forfeit but that duty still drives you onward.”
“Uh-huh. That’s great. You want to go hunt survivors up north, or should we pack up?”
“Anchorhead or bust,” urged Pierce.
“Republic must go green,” agreed Broonmark.
“Some of us need to sleep,” argued Vette.
Nalenne found herself yawning. “Mm. Sleep, yeah, good. Tell you what, guys, I think Anchorhead’s too
modest for the morning. We need to go big. You know that strain they were working on this morning?
Think Corellia. Think Coruscant. Rakghoul party around the galaxy!”
“My lord,” gasped Jaesa, “I thought we were seeking containment….”
“Sure. Contain it to Republic space. Drop ‘em a present, give their planets a few months to cool off,
come back to pick off the valuable stuff. All’s well.”
“Her idea is crude, but leans in the right direction,” said Quinn. Jaesa’s eyes went even rounder. “Don’t
look so surprised, Jaesa. I may be comparatively civilized, but I’m still Imperial.”
“This,” proclaimed Pierce, opening his arms to the silenced desert night, “is everything a job should be.”
21. In which Quinn customizes 2V-R8
The excitement of the outbreak settles, eventually, and life goes on...
The shorter an article reads
The less introduction it needs.
Ergo
(Yes, I was too lazy to finish even a bad limerick.)
Nalenne found Quinn on the bridge as per usual, leaning over a Holonet console while 2V-R8 handled
the controls. "I haven't heard 2V talk much lately," said Nalenne. "How did you manage that?"
Quinn turned to face her, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. "I've constructed a restraining
program that filters and silences all tactically irrelevant speech."
2V waved a hand and Nalenne found herself straining to listen. " help me"
"What was that?" said Nalenne.
"It isn't perfect yet," said Quinn. "He has proved remarkably resistant to silencing measures."
"master, please save me" creaked 2V.
"I like it," said Nalenne. "But why didn't you do this, oh, two years ago when you came on board?"
"My lord, I didn't have time for such an involved project. I had work to do."
"I gave you plenty of free time."
"You know I had other work of critical importance." A long, awkward pause. "Even apart from spying for
Baras."
"Like finding excuses to hunt down and assassinate everyone who ever shook you down for your lunch
money in middle school?"
"I told you, Agent Voloren was high school," grumbled Quinn.
"Yeah, but the other five...you could've spent that time shutting 2V up?"
"2V, you may fabricate a pretext to interrupt with something, even something irrelevant, when the
Wrath is badgering me like this."
"Ignore that, 2V."
"nothing makes sense"
"Wow. If you really have some kind of karmic debt to work off, Quinn, I’m willing to go on record saying
this contributes. A lot."
Earthmama: nothing makes sense......
MilaniGrey: LOL that's great. I've been laughing my butt off. "help me!"
kabeone: After I read the first one I tried to avoid this thread because I knew I would want more. But I
couldn't help myself and now I must re-read because I want more. Your Broonmark is fantastic! I will
actually think of him this way when I level my other hundred SW's.
22. In which Nalenne gets a job update and Quinn comments
The chain of command gets obscure
When cultists keep secrets too pure.
Commands warp and wend
Until by the end
Not a one can be totally sure.
Pierce opened Nalenne’s bedroom door without knocking. “Incoming call on the main holo, milord.”
“Hmph.” Nalenne set down her datapad and went out to answer it.
Two heavily ornamented Sith in hooded robes appeared. They radiated cultishness.
“Wrath,” said the first Sith.
“Um. Can I help you? – Wait, you look really familiar.”
The room got very quiet.
“Hang on. I’ve got this.”
“The Wrath flakes out,” said the second Sith in a strange trembling voice.
The first Sith glowered. “We are the Emperor’s Hand. I am Servant One. This is Servant Two. You are
under consideration for a personnel review.”
“Since when?”
“Since you forgot my name,” said Servant One, weighing each word with an impressive level of
displeasure. “You, in case you were wondering, are the Emperor’s Wrath.”
“I remembered that part,” she said defensively. “I’ve been under a lot of stress. Cut me some slack.”
“Yes, arranging the Spectacle Comics bootleg hub must be draining,” intoned the second Sith.
“How did you know…have you been watching me?”
“We have ways,” said Servant One.
“QUINN, IF YOU’VE BEEN SNITCHING AGAIN I WILL KILL YOU.”
“That is a matter of concern, Wrath. Your track record on killing your enemies has been dismal of late.”
“I destroy everyone who messes with me!”
“Except your husband,” said Servant One.
“And your sister,” said Servant Two.
“And the cute Jedi,” said Servant One.
“One-half out of three should count for something,” said Nalenne. “Besides, Jaesa only fought me the
once, and I don’t think it was even for keeps. You know how Jedi are.”
“The Wrath dodges responsibility,” said Servant Two.
“Hey,” said Nalenne. “Is there a mark coming out of this conversation, or are you just here to criticize?”
“We are reminding you of your way,” said Servant One. “The Emperor’s attention is bent towards the
war with the Republic. You must be seen championing the cause.”
Not you, too. “Um. Yeah. I’ll get right on that.”
“See that you do.” The line cut.
Quinn had entered the room at some point.
Nalenne watched him closely. “Do not say ‘I told you so.’”
“Of course not, my lord,” he said.
“Because you didn’t, actually. You just yell at me in general without specifically discussing my
professional prospects.”
“I’m not saying anything, my lord.”
“You better not.”
“I do have a fresh list of available targets of opportunity, my lord, in case you, through some
circumstance I did not foresee, do suddenly develop an interest in pursuing something relevant.”
“Very smooth. You’re the one who called them here in the first place, aren’t you?”
“The Hand? Actually, no, my lord.”
“That was an uncommonly bald-faced lie, Quinn.” He was giving her his best victimized look. She got up
close and glared up at him. “Lying liar.”
When he spoke it was quietly, quickly. Sincerely. “I did not contact them, I swear. I will be no one’s spy,
not this time, not to you. I am relieved that someone is finally driving you to action, and I am always
ready to support such action, but they must have acted based on their own observations.”
“You’re lying, you big snitch.”
Quinn looked down into her eyes with that arresting dusk-blue intensity he had. “Nalenne. Believe what
you will of me. But if you trust nothing else I have to say, trust me in this.” He leaned in, achingly close.
“If I were reporting to them they would have a much, much longer list of grievances against you.”
“…Good point.”
He nodded and walked around her on his way to the bridge, beckoning 2V to follow. “Setting course for
the Sullust system, my lord. Your duties await.”
23. In which Broonmark marks the occasion and Vette wonders why
Tradition’s a difficult thing;
Too often it clips a man’s wing.
But at times it’s excuse
To draw sword and cut loose
And enjoy a cathartic ol’ fling.
When Nalenne headed out to the reading nook, she found Broonmark already there, replacing a metal
contact in his vibrosword. Vette was seated across from him. Both of them looked up when Nalenne
arrived.
“Sith clan songbird torments us,” gurgled Broonmark.
“Uh…songbird?” said Nalenne.
“What songbird?” said Vette, suddenly suspicious. “There’s a songbird?”
“I think he means you.”
“But I don’t sing.”
“We hear singing from refresher,” said Broonmark. “Sith clan songbird tends to go flat between verses,
but otherwise very good.”
“He says he agrees, Vette, you definitely don’t sing.”
Vette seemed to relax a few degrees. “That’s what I thought.”
“So what’s with the torment?” Nalenne kept her speech in Basic.
“Clan songbird asks us our purpose. Over and over.” Broonmark ran a claw down the vibroblade spine’s
edge, making it shriek at a tooth-rattling pitch. “And over.”
“So she’s curious. Is there a reason you can’t talk about what you’re up to?”
“Yeah,” added Vette, giving Broonmark an accusing look. “Is there a reason?”
Broonmark examined the sword and swept to his feet, swinging it wide beside him. “This news is for Sith
clan. Tomorrow it is one year since we joined.”
Nalenne reflected. “So it is.”
“So what is?” said Vette.
“Clans would hunt and feast for this occasion. On Alzoc, we hunt torsk. On Hoth, we hunt ice cats. Here,
we never know what to order for Sith clan.”
“I like tacos.”
“Now you’re just making stuff up,” said Vette.
Broonmark hesitated. “Ice cat tacos, maybe?”
“If you like.”
“Must we eat the shell?”
“Not if you don’t want to.”
“Sith clan is the greatest clan.”
“Ice cat, then. Happy anniversary, Broonmark. We’ll hunt tomorrow.”
The Talz activated his vibrosword and buzzed with excitement. “Tomorrow we hunt, Sith clan.”
“This entire conversation turned out to be about killing things, didn’t it,” said Vette.
“What did you expect when you asked him why he was doing maintenance on the sword?”
“Definitely not songbirds and tacos, I can tell you that much.”
“You should learn Talz. The not-killing stuff can surprise you.”
“But in some ways,” said Vette, “the mystery makes it that much more enjoyable.”
“No taco shells, just meat,” sang Broonmark, and happily beatboxed his way out of the room, keeping
time with the swing of the vibrosword.
Meta Notes 1
Your Broonmark is fantastic! I will actually think of him this way when I level my other hundred SW's.
Ah-ha, I'm not the only Sith Warrior junkie! Nalenne currently exists only in these stories, because the
idea of rolling a fourth Warrior feels ridiculous. And yet...and yet...I am so terribly tempted.
For the purposes of the following commentary, the warring factions in my head will be represented by
Attention-Seeking Jawa
and Cynical Rakghoul Engineer
:
: 1000 pageviews! Yay!
: This number is wildly inflated by the habit you have of posting many short items, such that people
have to come back six times per day to catch everything.
: But...there's a thousand of them...a thousand is a nice number of pageviews to have...
: While your inner marketer, if we had an inner marketer, might approve, don't be too proud of this
textual terror you've constructed. It's true that this narrative, and more importantly Extremely Flaky
Creative Mind's attention span, is best served by many short posts. But the resulting numbers are likely
to represent many repeat views from a relatively small population, with some secondary effects from
people who drive by purely because they're curious about the sheer volume of posts. Remember, in the
absence of both context and a thorough understanding of the system, numbers lie.
: ...it was a good number.
: Yeah, I'll quit raining on your parade now. But you better hope that Extremely Flaky Creative Mind
gets back to work before you run out of content, Attention-Seeking Jawa, or else nobody on the Internet
will love you.*
: Not to worry, guys, I got this...when it's ready. *goes back to sleep*
:
* Yes, CRE is a jerk. It's okay. ASJ can't stand up to her, but CRE can't crush every head-faction's selfesteem at once.
Thanks for reading, everybody! There's still more to come
24. In which Jaesa's reading habits come to light
A Sith and a Jedi confined
On a ship where their goals aren’t aligned
Will balance, we pray,
In a sensible way,
Else they’ll drive themselves out of their minds.
Nalenne was in the habit of checking the Helicarrier’s data transfer logs. Ever since the whole ‘Quinn has
been sending extra reports to Baras on the side’ thing, it seemed prudent. For the most part, Nalenne
declined to judge or comment on the prodigious media consumption habits of the crew. However, one
title caught her eye.
Nalenne went to Jaesa’s quarters and knocked. “Come in,” said the Jedi.
Jaesa was sitting crosslegged on her bunk. The glow of a serene Force meditation faded from around her
as she opened her eyes. “Hi,” she said.
“Hello. I was just reviewing the data transfer logs and couldn’t help but notice a major stream from one
of my favorite Republic media-smuggling hubs.”
“Is that so, master?” Jaesa was absolutely terrible at looking innocent.
“Yeah. You’re devouring the Mynock series faster than even I can read. Really? Is that what you’re into?
Where did you even hear about the Mynock?
“From one of your Ultraguy crossovers. Turns out the Mynock has a huge mythos of his own.”
“I never liked him. A guy who works up all that rage, only to not kill people, is doing it wrong.”
“He’s declining to pay forward the violence that brought him into being. I really sympathize with him.”
“You shouldn’t. He’s crazy and has nothing in common with you.”
“His parents are dead. My parents are dead.”
“You said you understood why I had to do that!”
“It could still be the motivator for my career of evil-fighting.”
“I thought we were friends!”
Jaesa unfolded her legs and leaned toward Nalenne. “But that’s the fascinating thing. Mynock and the
Prankster – the Prankster didn’t kill his parents specifically in some continuities, but hear me out – they
have one of the most intimate relationships in the entire Coruscant Comics canon. The same system
created them, it’s just that one broke one way and the other broke…well, the other. Here we are, two
sides of the same coin. The mad destroyer and the troubled protector. We’re natural enemies, but
neither one of us can kill the other: the truth of our existence lies in our eternal opposition. I complete
you. You complete me.”
“Jaesa, that is the most disturbing thing you have ever said.”
“I’m just saying I see the parallels.”
“And we don't even oppose each other that much, outside sabacc nights. If you do start following me
around foiling my every plan, I’m going to be that writer who says ‘screw it’ and actually kills you off.
Mynock-girl.”
“Someday some writer will get sick of you and will give you a moment’s clarity, one reason for true
compassion, and we’ll all see what happens then. Prankster. I hope it redeems you, but I think it’ll break
you.”
“Doesn’t matter what you do to the Prankster. He’ll always be back. You may think this wicked galaxy
needs you, Jaesa…but it wants me.”
Nalenne strutted back out. And straight to her own room’s console, where she prepared to cut off
access to that particular Holonet hub for every user but herself.
She hesitated, though. Every minute Jaesa spent overthinking comic books was a minute she wasn’t
trying to overthrow the Empire. And the entire point of keeping her around was to keep her from that
crusade of hers. Let her try to destroy the fabric of Imperial society…or let her sit around drawing up
morality lectures based on comparisons with supervillains. Fabric of society…supervillain morality
lectures.
The things I do for the Empire. Nalenne set her teeth and subscribed Jaesa to two additional Mynock
series.
25. In which a widow and her husband reminisce
There once was an impotent Wrath
Who failed at her tactical math.
A rumor made rounds
That her mercy abounds,
And now users and fools line her path.
“Question for you, captain. Do you ever get sleepy?”
“No, my lord.”
“Hungry?”
“No.”
“Thirsty?”
“No.”
“Itchy?”
“No.”
“Horn-“
“No.”
“Wow. You stand around feeling nothing all day?”
“Nothing physical, my lord.”
“Ooh, I like the air of melancholy. It suits you.”
“You always were a sadist, my lord. Are you sure you don’t have work to do?”
“I’m sure. Emperor’s giving me the silent treatment. I can’t even raise any of the Hand on holo to put
together a sabacc night – um, or work, of course. Ilum’s gotten boring, Corellia’s a snooze….”
“The extension of the Empire’s interests in this war is not a snooze!”
“Says the man who doesn’t have to sleep.”
“I remember a time when you were much more dedicated to your duties.”
“Yeah? Well, I remember a time when you weren’t launching killer robots at my face.”
Nalenne sulked for a minute or two. Quinn was too dignified to sulk; he just stood there emanating
displeasure, which was very different.
“I knew it was coming,” said Nalenne.
“My lord?”
“You. Baras’s order to kill me. There are always spies, and logically it had to be you or Vette, and it didn’t
seem to fit Vette, so when things went south…I knew.”
“But you let me go to the trouble of setting all that up, and then killed me anyway.”
“I didn’t know how to bring it up. ‘Good morning, beloved, by the way I know you’ll have to shiv me
soon so I think we should take some time apart’? Besides, I know how you pride yourself on setting up
surprises. I didn’t want to ruin it, not if you were determined not to talk.” She paused, but he stayed
quiet, so she kept going. “And then I had to do it. I can’t just go around sparing people to try to
assassinate me.”
“You’ve spared Niselle.”
“That’s different. She’s my sister.”
“And Jaesa.”
“That’s different. She’s trustworthy.”
“And was I not different, my lord?”
“No, you really wer…that is, you’re not…you’re different, okay, but you’re so different you actually wrap
around and have to go by the rules again. So there.”
They didn’t say anything for a while.
“For the record,” she informed him, “it was really upsetting. I can’t believe you went behind my back,
never once tried to talk things through, and then screwed it up that badly. It just wasn’t like you.”
“Maybe you could have asked me about it afterward if you hadn’t summarily executed me.”
“Maybe I’m asking now.”
“I’m dead, my lord.” Quinn clenched his jaw in that old familiar way he had. “I have no further insights
to offer you.”
“Don’t give me that. Stars, I would’ve shut you up by now.”
“And I would’ve had you screaming.” He reached out and she met his hand halfway. She felt nothing at
all where his fingers passed through hers. “This fighting isn’t really the same since, well….”
“Since it transitioned into sex every time? Yeah. It used to be fun. Pity you had to ruin it by picking a real
fight.”
Quinn scowled. “You wildly overreacted that day.”
“And what part of this surprised you, oh research-prediction-tactical genius who knew me better than
anyone else ever has or will?”
He raised a hand to his throat. “The part where you actually did it! I thought you cared for me.”
“For a guy who claims to not feel anything, you’re awfully touchy.”
“For a woman who claimed to love me, you’re awfully murderous.”
Nalenne waved. “Sith. What’s your excuse?”
Quinn froze. She didn’t often play the Sith card because, hilarious though it was to watch him fold into
abject obedience mode, she liked him better when he let his inner master-villain out to play. Or, at a
minimum, his inner arrogant, demanding, charmingly excitable individual.
Ah, but there: face composed, mental wheels spinning as invisibly as he could manage, and submissive
transformation complete. “I apologize, my lord,” he said quietly. “That was inappropriate of me.”
“Psht, don’t worry about it. Get back to work.” We’ll deal with the rest of this later.
26. In which Nalenne asks Pierce a long-suppressed question
There once was a soldier who heard
That “authority” wasn’t a word.
He would win, and repeat,
Each objective complete,
But still flipped all his bosses the bird.
“Pierce?”
“Yes, milord?”
“We’ve known each other for a while now. Been through a lot together, you know? You’ve always come
through when I needed you.”
He didn’t look up from the blaster rifle he was fiddling with. “That’s so.”
Nalenne took a deep breath. “I’ve really…enjoyed…getting to know you so far. So I had…I had a
question. It’s been on my mind for a while.”
He eyed her warily. “Say it or don’t, milord.”
“What’s your first name?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Ha! Wouldn’t you like to know!”
“Even your permanent record doesn’t say anything.”
“Had a friend clear that long ago. Earn his slicing creds before I set him up for promotion. Won’t tell you
how to find him, though.”
“First name. I want to know.”
“It’s ‘Lieutenant,’ milord,” he said slyly. “At least until you figure out a way to double-promote me to
‘Major’ Pierce. – ‘Captain’ is still out of the question in this crowd.”
“I could just assign you a name. Something awful, like ‘Archiban.’ And address you by it twenty times a
day.”
“Do as you like. Won’t bother me.”
It really wouldn’t, too. That was the problem with Pierce. Nothing fazed him; if he didn’t feel like
listening to her, she had no hold over him. “What difference does it make to you, lieutenant? Why so
protective?”
“That’s my own dark secret.”
There were words normal people used to get results. “Tell me, um, please?”
“Nope. Milord.”
“I order you to tell me.”
“Nope. Milord.” Before she could think of an answer for that bald defiance, he chuckled and went on. “If
you were searching my permanent record you’ll remember the noted history of insubordination.”
“I could kill your family one by one until you answer me.”
“You could,” he said, casual as ever. “Can’t say I fancy the idea, but you could certainly give it a shot.”
“So you’ll just leave me wondering forever?”
He turned the blaster rifle upright and checked the barrel’s alignment. “That’s about the shape of it,
milord. A man’s got to have some secrets.” He laughed again.
Nalenne considered the offended flounce, but that never seemed appropriate around Pierce. So she
opted for stalking toward the door.
“Hey. Milord.”
“Yes?”
Still grinning, Pierce set the blaster down and looked up at her. “Not sure I’ve ever thanked you for
taking me on. The fights, the tech, the driving you to distraction…I’d never have had this much fun
anywhere else.”
“You’re an evil man.”
“Which is just what you need around here.”
She couldn't argue with that. Historically, there was never any point whatsoever in arguing with Pierce.
iamthehoyden: It's Pierce! It's Pierce!! So excited! (Lol, and I had to laugh at the name inquisition, very
nice.)
Earthmama: RIGHT??!! Why doesn't Pierce have a name??? this has been bugging me ever since my
Husband played his SW....poor Dave. That's his name in my head.
27. In which Nalenne meets someone and some disapprove (I/II)
The Emperor’s Hand may at first
Seem a mutant, a freak at its worst.
Servant Ten may seem fine,
Twenty crosses the line…
All-hands meetings are full fit to burst.
Hate men. Hate all men. All men are sneaky jerk annoying taskmaster jerks. Jerks. I’ll just stay at home
reading the Scarlet Nexu's Revenge ‘til doomsday.
“Master, holo for you.”
Nalenne eyed Jaesa suspiciously and rolled over to tap her bedside console and check current system
activity. “It’s the Hand. Disregard.”
“That’s the thing, Master, I can’t. They’ve taken over the main holo. But it’s…it’s not Servants One and
Two.”
Nalenne raised her hairless eyebrows. “Is that so?”
“You’d better see.”
Nalenne growled wordlessly and followed Jaesa to the holo room. Most of the crew was settled in or
near the reading nook, but Nalenne didn’t notice them at first.
“I see,” said Nalenne.
A lone stranger stood in the holo image. He was tall, slim, and somehow successful in making the
uniform robe of the Emperor’s Hand look flattering. His hood was pulled back, allowing a dark wavy
mane to fall to his shoulders. His distinguished Sith features had enough facial tentacles and golden
ornaments to make the staunchest traditionalist smile in approval.
“Wrath,” he said in a cultured, melodic tenor. “It’s an honor to finally meet you.” He bowed and smiled,
warmly. “I am Servant Nine.”
“Where have you been hiding?” she said stupidly.
“Secret locations doing rituals of unimaginable power, for the most part. The Emperor’s Hand keeps me
busy. I’ve been aching to get out, though. See this galaxy we’re going to rule.” A small, conspiratorial
smile. “Meet the Wrath I’ve heard so much about.”
Brain, girl. Think brain good. “I think I would be willing to help with that last part of your plan.”
“I was hoping so. I can arrange a private dinner on a good view shuttle, say, tomorrow night? Name the
system, Wrath. I haven’t been free to tour in a long time.”
*
Once she had stammered out a destination and hung up, silence fell in the holo room. Nalenne took a
minute to process what had just happened. It appeared to be the first time anybody had ever asked her
on a date in her entire life. It was direct. It was nice.
It was a non-Talz man who wasn’t trying to make her life difficult.
“It sounds like a trap, my lord,” said Quinn from the direction of the reading nook.
“No one asked for your tactical evaluation, Quinny,” said Vette.
“We smell betrayal,” said Broonmark.
“Ignore the carpet,” said Pierce.
“That Sith is evil,” shuddered Jaesa.
“Hey. People. Guess how many of you get any input whatsoever into my activities tomorrow night?”
Pierce raised his eyebrows in his “I have a really good line but I’m just too nice a guy to say it also I might
get Force Choked for it” way. Wisely, he said nothing.
“No not-me person,” concluded Nalenne. “That’s who gets input.”
“Servant Nine is not known to us,” bubbled Broonmark.
“He’s of the Emperor’s Hand, master,” said Jaesa. “You’re the Emperor’s Wrath. Isn’t that…well, incest
or something?”
“In every Imperial jurisdiction I'm aware of,” confirmed Quinn.
“Let her have her fun, you whiners,” said Pierce.
“The snows themselves condemn this rashness,” opined Broonmark. “Be ready to kill.”
“If you need that dress of yours touched up, I know a good tailor. I know you haven’t worn it in a while,
and you will want to look great,” said Vette.
“Thanks, Vette, Pierce. The rest of you, your concerns are noted. My date’s on.”
26. In which Nalenne asks Pierce a long-suppressed question
There once was a soldier who heard
That “authority” wasn’t a word.
He would win, and repeat,
Each objective complete,
But still flipped all his bosses the bird.
kabeone: This is the best thing, it describes Pierce perfectly. Did I mention I love all things Pierce. I
imagined that his first name is also Pierce and his parents didn't understand the implications of choosing
their Legacy name.
Also, Servant Nine... sounds delicious, though I can't picture a flattering version of the "Hand Robes" on
anyone.
28. In which the Hand shows its hand (II/II)
A web of invisible threads
Links the Emperor’s network of dread.
The big guy’s command
Flows through Voice or through Hand
Then the Wrath hammers in what he said.
The crew was gathered on the seats in and near the reading nook, across the broad holo room from the
hallway to everyone’s quarters. Vette and Jaesa played a long halfhearted game of holochess. Pierce
was cleaning his blaster rifle, piece by small delicate piece. Broonmark was doing stars-knew-what with
his translation datapad, using the edges of his proboscis because his huge clawed fingers weren’t
sufficiently nimble. Ghost-Quinn sat and thought.
Hours passed.
“It’s just that he’s of the Emperor’s Hand,” said Quinn, out of nowhere. “We only know what they’ve
seen fit to tell us. He could be capable of anything. It isn’t safe.”
Pierce looked sour. “If you turn this into a Team Baras talk, little man….”
“It’s nothing about the relative merits of employment. The Servants, personally, could be anything.”
“Sh-sh,” hissed Vette. “Look casual.”
They got back to doing nothing significant as the ship creaked and lowered its gangplank. Two pairs of
boots sounded in step up the walkway. Nalenne, in a killer form-fitting hybrid of armor and evening
dress, never broke eye contact with a flushed, smiling Servant Nine as they made their way to her
quarters.
Vette and Jaesa exchanged hopeful smiles. Quinn stoicked fiercely. Pierce raised a pair of fine plasteel
pieces and concentrated on fitting them together. Broonmark only blinked.
In time they heard a short sharp cry and a crash, then the sound of mad scrambling. Moments later the
door to Nalenne’s quarters bumped open and a half-dressed Servant Nine stumbled into the holo room.
Nalenne followed close after, belting her dressing gown as she went. “The first date? Demanding that on
the first date? Really?”
“I heard you were into that!” said Servant Nine.
“Just because you heard a rumor that I liked doing it for some other guy does not mean I’m going to just
get down and wipe out all Republic forces in the nearest star system with you! That’s a really intimate
thing. I barely even know you!”
“It was good enough for your whole crew. Plus, I heard you got busy with Lord Draahg about ten
minutes after meeting him.”
Nalenne sputtered. “And ‘what you heard’ is supposed to make me the Sith Order’s public battle
mount? At least Lord Draahg respected me!”
When Servant Nine stepped toward her in a threatening and entirely too close way, Broonmark stood
up and prepared to spring. But the tall Sith composed himself – as much as a man wearing boxers and
one arm of a robe could look composed – and shot the crew a withering look. “If that’s what does it for
you,” he said coldly, “no wonder we’re losing this war.” With that, Servant Nine swept out.
Jaesa darted to intercept Nalenne before she could go anywhere. “Hey, master. Don’t listen to him. You
know high-ranking Sith are only after one thing.”
Nalenne looked lost. “I just wanted casual sex. Why does nobody ever look past the killing stuff to see
that?”
“It’s okay, hon.” Jaesa hugged her.
“And I didn’t just go carry out kill orders for my whole crew the minute I met you guys.”
“I definitely never sent you to kill anybody,” said Vette from where she stood.
“Neither did I,” said Jaesa.
“Nor even we,” blorped Broonmark.
Quinn and Pierce exchanged accusing looks.
“And all of us, including the boys – “ Vette cleared her throat – “know you’re worth a lot more than just
your combat skills.”
“W-well, yes, um. Of course,” said Quinn uncomfortably.
“I could’ve told you that,” said Pierce, somehow managing to glare even harder at Quinn.
“The thought never occurred to us, but it is obviously what Sith clan wants to hear,” said Broonmark.
(Broonmark’s selective vocabulary lessons gave him a certain leeway in talking in Nalenne’s presence.)
“I hate everything,” sobbed Nalenne.
Vette took over. “Jaesa, go help her with a pillow fort, okay? I’ll find some cookies and the Duranium
Man holovid. The one with that Pureblood playing Tonin Harsh, she loves that version. Boys, if you
pressure her for ombat-cay ssignments-ay in the next forty-eight hours you will answer to me.”
The menfolk sat for a moment after Vette and Jaesa ushered Nalenne back to her quarters.
“I don’t understand,” said Quinn. “She never complained about me recommending critical strategic
operations.”
“She made so many exceptions for you,” said Pierce, “it stopped being funny.” He spat. “Bloody Sith.”
Ashlian: Just thought I'd chime in with how much I'm enjoying this. Your characterization is awesome, I
had no idea how you were going to work with the ghostly Quinn when you first started, but the tension
between Nalenne and Quinn makes me hold me breath when reading, and the dynamics with the rest of
the crew finally telling it like it is to him are fantastic. What a great story!
Maylen: Please keep up the posting. I'm loving your stories, enough that I check this thread before
playing my warriors everday
29. In which Nalenne reports to her sister
One Sith in the family tree
Makes it easy enough to foresee
Not all sibs will pull through.
Expand that to two,
And sororicide’s half guaranteed.
Nalenne locked the door to her room and carefully, quietly slid a packing case out from under her bed.
She had left the item inside untouched for weeks, but by now she was halfway sure that Quinn was
abiding by the eavesdropping rules. If she was quiet, no one would hear.
She lifted the mandoviol from its case and carried it to the bed. She sat down and cradled it, touching
the strings, ever so lightly, to let the tuning pegs do their automated thing.
This was just about the coolest instrument anybody she knew played, and she fully intended to learn.
When she had time. Which only really happened when her combat-effective friends were laid up with
broken bones and kolto soaks. Going out without Pierce was difficult.
She called up lesson notes on the nearest console and started ghosting her fingers along the strings, just
barely enough for herself to hear. Much better to make quiet mistakes than to make loud mistakes and
have to kill witnesses after every practice session.
She nearly jumped when her holo rang. Hurriedly she set the mandoviol on the floor and answered on
her console.
Her twin Niselle smiled her signature sinister smile. “Lenny! How are you?”
“Glorying in a messy part-time reign of terror. Yourself?”
“The usual. Scheming, exchanging assassination attempts with everybody I’ve ever met. Your refusal to
participate is making people talk, you know.”
“Let ‘em. What’s the occasion for the call?”
“Just to chat. I’m curious about how your exorcism efforts are going.”
“Nowhere. That’s where they’ve been going. Nothing at all.”
“Don’t give up. You know you don’t want him around permanently.”
“I’m not so sure. It’s been great to have the tactical support back. And the company is…nice.” Nalenne
considered. “Mostly.”
“Lenny. Do not back out now.”
“I was thinking about it earlier. If what he is is impossible, keeping or even reincarnating him is no more
ridiculous than destroying him.”
“Tell me you’re joking. Banish the poor wretch. Move on. Stop by one of the Council receptions on
Korriban sometime, you can meet some real movers and shakers. Attractive ones.”
"You think I haven’t tried? It’s not…nobody’s like Quinn. Nobody ever will be, not for me.”
"You only believe that because you're upset. And a moron. There's no such thing as love, dear." Niselle
looked up at somebody coming in and started speaking very quickly. "Except in very rare cases like our
own, how fortunate we are, Andronikos! Right?" The Sith rose to greet her husband.
"Our Wrath still wallowing in self-pity?"
"I'm wallowing in having cared about the guy I married." Nalenne glared at her sister.
Andronikos squeezed Niselle's waist. "A common complaint, from what I hear."
Nalenne smiled weakly. "Yeah. So what brings you here? More singles listings for me to browse?"
"Not unless you want 'em. Still stuck with the captain?”
“Yes indeed.”
“I’ve been talking with Talos about his artifacts in my spare time. Thought maybe some old text would
mention effects like this. No leads yet, though.”
“You never told me you were researching this,” said Niselle.
Andronikos shrugged. “I thought it might help.”
“I appreciate it,” said Nalenne.
“I was only calling to watch her squirm, you know that,” pouted Niselle.
“You bitch,” said Nalenne.
“If you two are going to make this conversation constructive, I’m leaving.” Niselle shoved Andronikos’
arm away and flounced off.
Andronikos scratched his ear. “Sorry. You know how she is.”
“She’s having fun with her Council thing, though, right?”
“Time of her life.”
“Good. Look after her, will you? I can’t have my whole family getting dead on me.”
“Not to worry. Look, if you make any progress, call me. Talos will want to know. He’s all right, even if he
has refused to talk to you directly since the deflected-blaster-bolt misunderstanding.”
“Your blaster bolt, Niselle’s attack order. Don’t see why I’m the bad guy. Still, it’s appreciated.”
“Any time.”
MilaniGrey: Never quite pictured Andronikos as being a nice guy. I'm gonna have to wrap my head
around this one. :P Keep em coming!
Meta Notes 2
Whew! Two weeks ago when the first inkling of Nalenne hit my keyboard, I typed…a lot. I have now
posted all 26 of that first weekend’s sketches, mixed in with a few more recent ones. Publication from
here on in will be more variable, as I must rely on the whims of Extremely Flaky Creative Mind for
production.
I intend to continue writing, but the frequency is likely to drop to once per day.
If there are topics/planets/characters/scenarios you would be interested in seeing Nalenne meet and
explore, feel free to suggest stuff! (Voss is reserved; I have plans.) I make no guarantees, since EFCM
sometimes looks at writing prompts and draws a blank; but suggestions are always good to have around.
Never quite pictured Andronikos as being a nice guy. I'm gonna have to wrap my head around this one.
:P
Ha! Andronikos is kind of a scary guy, but I imagine he would think that the Emperor’s Wrath has a
pretty cool gig. I mean, as lackeys go. Nalenne and he could swap stories of thrilling raids gone wrong
and mad revenge sprees gone right. Until they get on each other’s bad sides, I could see them looking
out for each other, because when you meet a pretty cool person with pretty good skills, it’s nice to have
some give-and-take.
Most significantly, Andronikos Revel is nice compared to Niselle. An argument could be made that he’s a
better person than Nalenne, too. That perspective is important.
I had no idea how you were going to work with the ghostly Quinn when you first started
Honestly? Neither did I. But the concept called to me. Almost every word of SWTOR fanfic I've written to
date has sprung from attempts to cope with the fact that I couldn't kill Quinn when I wanted to. So...if
my fondest fantasy could come true, and I could off my favorite companion...but he ended up still
hanging out on my bridge editorializing on my professional calls.......and then, a couple tens of
thousands of words later, here we are
30. In which Quinn gets jealous
I say that today’s post is out of character. My Quinn complains a lot, and he’s pretty raw towards
Nalenne. I prefer to think that he talks a lot about the grievances between them, what he expects from
her professionally, and whatever bothers him that he can frame as strategic or tactical advice, but that
his complaining mostly ends there.
On the other hand, this image made me giggle. And really, look at him. He’s lost his commission, his
assumptions of reality, the very control and sensory experience of his world. He’s still trying to come to
terms with what and where he is. He’s in a bad mood a lot of the time. And he never liked that Jedi.
A crew on a small enough ship
May find tensions rise on each trip.
Though secrets are few
Each imagines a slew
And expects confirmation to slip.
“According to my analysis, my lord, maximum damage can currently be inflicted on this moon in the
Dantooine system. Dense enemy troop population, several city targets to blow up. Pierce and
Broonmark should be ecstatic.”
“Excellent,” said Nalenne. “You know I could never manage this planning stuff without you.”
He looked at the hand she was unsuccessfully trying to lay on his immaterial shoulder. “Yes,” he said,
“you always do seem to go for your opposites.”
“’Always’? ‘Go for’? What, do I have a pattern?”
Quinn frowned and looked out the window. “I heard you talking with Jaesa earlier. About the pros and
cons of annihilating villages in enemy territory.”
“So?”
“You’ve grown remarkably…close, my lord.”
“You’re….” Nalenne blinked. Then she suppressed a laugh. “I should be close to my apprentice, don’t
you agree?”
“Your favoritism is remarkable.”
“Favoritism.”
“Yes, my lord. You pay her a great deal of personal attention.”
“You’re jealous. You’re actually jealous of Jaesa Wilsaam.”
“She spends more time in your bed than I ever did.”
“You know we’re just watching movies on the holoprojector I shelled out to upgrade in my room. Also,
Jaesa can squeeze me into her schedule for more than 10.3 minutes a day, unlike some partners I could
name. I think the point three was the part that bothered me the most. Where is this even coming
from?”
“When she fought you, you spared her life. Not mine. And you’re always staring at the…back of her
robe.”
“You know how awful Jedi robes look when they’re not draped right. It’s kind of obvious. I let her know
so she can discreetly adjust.”
“Whatever you say. My lord.”
“Why are you so mad about this? Did you not have a problem with that time on Dromund Kaas when I
excused myself to run off with Lord Draahg alone for six hours, then came back drenched in sweat and
giggling like a schoolgirl?”
“At least Lord Draahg was a real Sith.”
“Malavai – “
“See! You only call me Malavai when you’re desperate.”
“That’s not true at all. I also – that is, there were other….”
“When you’re desperate or when you’re having intercourse, or anticipating it. I consider my point
proved.” He ground his teeth for a moment. “Both of us laid a deadly trap for you, but only I got killed
for it.”
“Jaesa set up a lousy two Jedi, one of whom died in ten seconds flat, the other of whom…mm, that was
actually nice, beating him and breaking his spirit.”
“See? Not only did you leave her alive after that setup, you actually found it pleasurable!”
“I am not having this conversation. Hey, Jaesa. Want to stay in my room tonight?”
Jaesa looked up from her reading. “Master, setting up an artificially suggestive scenario for the sole
purpose of hurting Quinn is a sickening idea.”
“We can make a pillow fort.”
Jaesa wavered.
“And read classic Mynock comics and argue who made the better Mankababe.”
“Master….”
“If you don’t accept, Halee Robs will be canonically the best one. Way better than that sad Seline Hyle.”
“Fine. Pillow fort. Because you’re wrong.”
“You’re a dear.” Nalenne turned back to Quinn. “It’ll be an extra, extra sexy pillow fort, Malavai. Suck it.”
If there are topics/planets/characters/scenarios you would be interested in seeing Nalenne meet and
explore, feel free to suggest stuff! (Voss is reserved; I have plans.) I make no guarantees, since EFCM
sometimes looks at writing prompts and draws a blank; but suggestions are always good to have
around.
iamthehoyden: I have one word...Comic-Con.
MilaniGrey: Best one yet! I love your version of Jaesa still being lightside after you "fell" to the darkside.
Very interesting. Also, I think Quinn is having a bad case of blue balls, as well as feeling a little rejected
that he got killed and Jaesa didn't. *shrug*
Crossover: Jedi Knight
31. In which the Wrath arrives on Ord Mantell (I/III)
I have one word...Comic-Con.
bright_ephemera:...You asked for it. I'm splitting this because I dislike 1000+ word text walls, but the
following three parts are one long cautionary tale on why you shouldn't put me on five-hour flights with
nothing but a pen and a notebook.
Comics-heavy? A bit. One, they’re fun, and two, there are some interesting thematic effects when you
transplant American comic books to Imperial culture, and I like thinking about that. I try to include all
necessary context.
There once was a media giant
On comics and holos reliant.
Though censors at times
Called some notions crimes,
The publisher pushed on, defiant.
Ord Mantell.
It had bid for a Comic-Con a couple of years before everything went to hell, but the arrangements
somehow pulled through. Nalenne snagged tickets because it was the first con in a couple of years that
didn’t clash with the rampage schedule.
And so, one fine autumn day on the war-torn planet (which, really, was Nalenne’s favorite kind of
planet), she took Jaesa, Quinn, Pierce, Broonmark, and one costume to the nearest spaceport. Vette
stayed on the ship and mumbled mockery under her breath. 2V, for once, stayed behind to do ship
maintenance.
Nalenne had opted to dress as Salla, a Sith who regularly sided with the Unbowed against their eternal
enemies the X-folk. There were relatively few roles that a Sith Pureblood could convincingly pull off,
so…Salla it was.
And of course every time she brought this up, Jaesa had to start arguing.
“Within a couple decades of their creation,” explained Nalenne as they walked (it was a fine day;
speeders scarcely seemed necessary, especially since the parking would be a pain), “the X-folk went
from a fun novelty to a power fantasy for the weak and disenfranchised of society. That’s the whole
reason the censors hate it so much. If you’re a lowly alien with incredible, Force-rivalling powers…I
mean, of course you’re going to use it to get revenge and to claw your way up the ladder to take your
rightful place of power in society. That’s the Imperial way. The Unbowed in the series do it right. The Xfolk? Seriously, being nice, trying to earn popular support with senseless, sacrificial work and weak
diplomacy? There’s a reason the Unbowed crush them every time.”
“But the X-folk seek a more sustainable solution. A stronger galaxy for everyone through a combination
of service and simply of live and let live.”
“Weak.”
“The X-folk would come out ahead in the long run if it weren’t for the prejudices of the writers.”
“The X-folk are terrible, and the only reason they work as villains is that they’re transparent stand-ins for
Republic ideals.”
The con was situated in a huge volcano complex, which struck Nalenne as pleasingly exciting. When they
reached the door, Nalenne presented tickets for her party.
The guy at the table checked them and swallowed hard. “Yes, er, my lord, we actually have a special
attaché assigned to assist you this weekend.”
“Really? I like lackeys.”
He let out a breath. “Good, good.”
A short blond in a stupid-looking jumpsuit can trotting out of nowhere. He bowed in reasonable Imperial
fashion, but when he spoke his accent was thoroughly Republic. “My lord. I’m Turin. I’m to see to any
requirements you have while you’re here.”
“And try to keep me from any killing sprees.”
“If I can, my lord.” He had a winsome, self-deprecating smile. “Please, come with me.”
Nalenne admired the durasteel-reinforced archway they passed through. “This would make a killer
resistance base,” she said.
“It did,” said Turin, “until Havoc Squad cleared out the separatists.”
“Ugh, really? Separatists had the right idea. I should go foment some rebellion after – ooh, check out the
program, they got three of the original holovid Annihilators for signings!”
The day went pretty smoothly for the most part. Pierce and Broonmark were assigned to carry stuff,
while Nalenne and Jaesa concentrated on acquiring stuff. There was one good panel previewing some of
the upcoming Annihilators holovids, and another with an incredible load of Republic propaganda on
creating morally interesting characters. Jaesa was captivated. Nalenne was half inclined to liven it up
with a Force choking demonstration.
It was that evening, on the way toward dinner, when Nalenne overheard somebody in the crowd. “So
then I said to him,” said some spindly Rattataki boy, “Blizzard could reverse engineer Duranium Man’s
suit just looking at it and make a competitor in a week flat. He’s a Jawa, for stars’ sake; he could make
Duranium Man plus ice beam with his eyes closed if he weren’t plot incompetent.”
Nalenne had heard the argument before. And it was a stupid argument. “Blizzard isn’t plot incompetent,
he’s intrinsically incompetent,” she informed the stranger. “Have you actually met a Jawa? They’ll steal
three pieces of real tech, select a few points to solder together at random, then take credit for any part
of it that’s still working.”
“Spoken like a kneejerk Duranium Man apologist,” sniffed the Rattataki. His friends were backing away
ever so slightly, but he didn’t seem to notice. “The fact is, every villain he gets is dumbed down so he
can deliver one-liners without getting any attention-grabbing competition. It’s maddening.”
Nalenne’s palms itched. It had been a terribly peaceful day so far. “Maddening is people who have such
a miserable inferiority complex they get desperate to tear down a fictional character.”
“Says the chick who’s getting wet over said fictional – “
Nalenne already had her saber out. The surprising part was where, in the time it took her to flourish and
downswing, some stranger dressed in what appeared to be a masculine version of lame X-folk ally
Doctor MacTaggan’s outfit whipped out a blue lightsaber and blocked her strike.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you hurt him,” said the newcomer in a voice like sinking into a warm bed.
Nalenne backed off, but kept her saber at the ready.
The newcomer relaxed. “I’m Rho,” he said. “It’s an honor to finally meet you.” He smiled gently. That
face was handsome, for a green tattooed alien.
Nalenne blinked. “You are…who?”
32. In which Nalenne mixes it up with a Knight (II/III)
A Knight and his colorful crew
Saved the galaxy. We know it’s true.
Humility may
Be his watchword, but hey Let’s give him the credit he’s due.
This entry contains spoilers for a Jedi Knight companion's former job title.
The floor was rapidly clearing around Nalenne and the strange Mirialan Jedi. Both had their sabers out,
but it hadn’t come to battle yet.
Nalenne’s local guide Turin cleared his throat. “That’s the Hero of Tython, my lord. He’s a bit of a
Republic celebrity. Saved the galaxy and stuff.”
“Why in the Emperor’s name is there a Jedi Knight here?”
Rho tilted his head. “The guy who played Byssin in that 2 BTC version of X-Folk is signing. The laser-eye
guy? Best X-folk ever. Why is the Emperor’s Wrath here?”
“Tay Vordage signing. Artist, you know? He did Dark Son?”
“Oh, yeah. Not my favorite visual style, but…can we put away the lightsabers now?”
“I think not.” She started scanning the room, checking for the people who looked combat-capable…and
the ones who were leaning in to watch rather than backing away. “This is just too good a kill chance to
miss.”
“I’ve got five,” warned Rho. He, too, was looking around the room. “Near as I can tell you’ve got…one
very interesting entity…plus two and a half.”
“Half? Jaesa’s tougher than she looks.”
“I was referring to the ox.”
“Don’t you start on Pierce!” Nalenne charged.
Her support scattered to cover his. Just as well; Nalenne was looking forward to a duel with a worthy
opponent.
After her first successful hit, some bright-eyed dandy ran up with a kolto probe ready to deploy. “You
stay clear,” she barked, and Force pushed him clear to the bottom of the stage a dozen meters away.
*
Quinn walked at an unhurried pace to stand over Doc. Doc, for his part, scrambled up and took a step
toward Nalenne’s fight. “I would listen to her, if I were you,” said Quinn quietly.
Doc straightened his jacket, shot Quinn a disdainful look, then did a double take. “Wow. If it isn’t the
Bastard of Sobrik.”
Quinn inclined his head. “Doctor ‘I’m too fabulous to have a real name,’ I presume.”
Doc grinned. “All that time on Balmorra, but I never thought I would get to meet you.”
“No, I believe you only made that effort for the female residents of Sobrik. You were personally
responsible for some eighty-three security violations related to our female staff in a six-month period.”
“Violations couldn’t be helped, I only sleep with the bad guys if they help me bypass bad-guy security.
It’s a rule.” Quinn sniffed. Doc smiled even wider. “I guess it worked, ‘cause those resistance fighters are
still on Balmorra, and you’re, ah, not. Funny story, though, about how I know about you? We had a little
cafeteria in one of our Gorinth Canyon bases. Not as swank as Sobrik HQ, but it was home. Had a mansize dartboard on one wall, we had kind of a weekly rotation for pictures of most-hated Imperial
officers. You just kept coming up.”
*
Jaesa reached the edge of the crowd and tapped a redheaded Jedi on the arm. “Wow. Wow, I just have
to say, I love your Tempest outfit.”
The redhead turned to face Jaesa. “Hi! Thanks! I can’t really talk right now….”
“Oh, them? Don’t worry about it, I think the duel is good exercise both ways.”
“You know that girl?”
“Yeah, she’s my master. “
Kira gave Nalenne a skeptical look. “She seems very…Sith.”
“It’s a long story. So that green one’s yours?”
“My very own Jedi Master, yeah. I should probably help him.”
“Well, I’m hers, so we kind of cancel each other out. Yours is cute.”
“He won’t hear a word of it. Believe me, I’ve tried. By the way, is your dress nanosilk? It’s got exactly the
sheen I wanted for this costume.”
*
“Salla,” yelled some clueless member of the exhibition hall’s crowd, referring to Nalenne’s Unbowed
costume. “Wooo!”
“MacTaggan,” countered somebody who recognized Rho’s X-folk costume. “Yeah!”
“Nice, an audience. Pity we can’t give ‘em main character fights,” said Nalenne, “you know? Everybody
sees Jedi vs. Sith in real life. I would love to see the mutants, Byssin vs. Dark Tempest or something on
the floor.”
“You do what you can,” said Rho.
*
In the shadows to one side of the stage, a tall pale figure crossed swords with a tall dark figure.
*
Pierce eyed a Chagrian soldier for a few seconds, then walked up close. “So I’m not supposed to blow
things up today,” said Pierce. “And I hear you lot don’t like collateral damage. Hand to hand?”
The Chagrian looked up at him with zero sign of fear. “You got it.”
Pierce slung his blaster rifle behind his back. The Chagrian did the same with his assault cannon, to
nearly-unbalancing effect. They got to work.
*
“What’s Kira doing?” grunted Rho.
Nalenne looked over to where Kira was chattering with Jaesa. “Aw. Padawan-on-apprentice talk.”
“Your apprentice looks kind of…wholesome.”
“Yeah, and your padawan looks like she still has some personality left. Guess we’re both bad teachers.”
*
“So that lady is the one who was kind enough to take you off our hands.” Doc nodded, faux-thoughtfully.
“She’s got kind of a wild beauty to her. Unconventional. Raw. I like it.”
“She could kill you with a thought.”
“Is that a defensive note I hear? All this yelling at me for the crime of love, but I’m sensing a certain
something.” Doc shook his head. “So that’s why you left. It figures. All that trouble, and it turns out the
only thing we had to do to get Balmorra back was get you laid.”
*
Pierce had Rusk pretty much in a choke hold when he felt a sting behind his knee. Rusk coughed a small
laugh while Pierce peered at the little astromech droid below. “That was a sedative,” said Rusk, “dosed
precisely for a guy your size. I give you one minute.”
Pierce snarled, kicked the astromech droid aside, and tried to reestablish his grip on the Chagrian.
*
A whisper, a hiss, a vibrosword and a red saber in the darkness.
*
“Are you tired yet, Sith?”
“I’m just getting warmed up. You?”
“I’m thinking my friends still outnumber yours. Please, consider surrendering. You’ll be given fair
treatment.”
“But the fight’s so much more fun.”
“Don’t you get tired of that? I have the last Emperor’s Wrath working for me, you know. There’s always
opportunity on my side for something a little more satisfying than….”
“Hyah!” yelled Nalenne, and renewed her attack.
*
Pierce felt a sting in his calf. Rusk panted. “That was a sedative dosed for a dewback. I give you one
minute.”
“Still got time, then, don’t I.” Pierce kicked T7, again. Then he grabbed at Rusk, swung, impacted.
Watched and waited a moment. Frowned. “I just broke another rib of yours. Does that bother you even
slightly?”
“The mission’s not done yet. So the hurt doesn’t matter.”
Pierce grinned. “If half you ‘Pubs were half as crazy as you, I might not fall asleep cruising through
Imperial victories.”
*
“I love him, but he’s a little…uptight, you know? Like, too perfect a Jedi.”
“I wouldn’t mind a perfect Jedi.”
“I would offer to trade, but your boss leans a bit too far in the other direction.”
Jaesa did a little combination nod-shrug. “She looks after her own, though.”
“So does Rho. I’ll give him that.”
*
“I made three requests to make the Balmorran garrison single-sex purely because of you.”
“Yeah. I read those like fan mail. Slicing your systems, by the way? Very satisfying hobby.”
“I can’t wait to wipe that smirk off your face.”
“Why wait, big guy? Here, on behalf of your many Balmorran fans….” Doc wound up and threw a solid
punch at…and through…Quinn’s face.
He withdrew, shook his hand, looked at it, looked at Quinn. “Now that’s kinda disturbing.”
*
Something stung behind Pierce’s knee.
“Quit it,” barked Pierce.
“That was a sedative dosed for a terentatek.” Rusk’s expression was developing a degree of horror. “I no
longer have any idea how long you have.”
Pierce rolled his eyes. “Oh, screw the gun policy.” He deftly swung the blaster rifle off his back, spun
toward T7, and fired a heavy round straight into its body.
Rusk was bringing his cannon to the ready, but at the very same moment, both Pierce and Rusk
collapsed.
Vette took her aim off Rusk and struggled to balance her blasters with the bag she had slung over one
arm. “Nalenne,” she yelled, “you left this on the table back on the ship. I don’t want to know its nerd
significance but I thought – “
“Later, Vette.”
*
A high-pitched voice somehow separated itself from both the combat sound and the considerable
babble of the audience. “But Mom, Duranium Man’s doin’ pictures!” A small child in a crimson metallic
outfit came toddling toward Nalenne and Rho. “Just through there, we gotta go or we’ll miss it!”
Rho took a step forward with the obvious intent of restraining Nalenne. Nalenne raised a hand. “Hold.
The kid goes through, then we talk.”
33. In which Nalenne leaves Comic-Con Ord Mantell
A Sith on a VIP tour
May find that she’s watched more and more
The meaner she gets.
It’s safe to place bets
That she’ll wear out her welcome, hardcore.
This entry contains spoilers for a Jedi Knight companion's former job title.
Rho faced Nalenne while the little costumed kid and his mother darted between them. Doc came up on
Rho’s left while they waited. A tall, handsome-looking Sith in dark armor came up on the knight’s right.
Wow, where did a Knight like you find a hottie like that? Broonmark and Pierce were nowhere to be
seen.
“I think it’s time for you to give up,” said Rho.
Nalenne remembered her surroundings. “Hello? Audience. X-folk? Unbowed? We can’t just leave that
hanging.”
He scanned the packed room. “Did you have an idea in mind?”
“Can we bring in a common enemy so X-folk and Unbowed can unite and beat him and all walk away
happy?”
“I guess? I think I saw a big Cosmoctus mockup backstage earlier.”
“Vette! Help the droid guy get Cosmoctus in here. No time to explain.”
“T7, help the young lady.” Rho looked from Vette back to Nalenne, then closed to resume saber combat.
“You keep slaves? That’s disgusting.”
“What, Vette? She isn’t – I mean, she has a collar, and has to obey my every command, and she depends
on me for her livelihood and I legally own her, but I wouldn’t call her my slave. Not as such, no.” For a
moment the only sound was the swing and clash of sabers. “That sounded better in my head,” admitted
Nalenne.
The ripple of excitement in the crowd was Nalenne’s first clue that the big blobby Cosmoctus figure was
being rolled onto the floor behind them. She and Rho nodded and turned to the big figure. T7 had
figured out some animatronics, wavy bits and lights flashing around the great planet-eating maw.
Attack.
Her mind raced. Rho was right, of course. With Broonmark and Pierce down, Nalenne didn’t stand a
chance against what appeared to be an extremely prominent knight plus a Sith friend and whatever
droid had managed to down Pierce. Damn it all. Time to find an escape route.
The prop went down fast, of course. Nalenne extricated herself from the wreckage to enormous
applause. She stood beside the Jedi Knight and acknowledged it graciously.
Their crews gathered around them. Rusk and Broonmark were barely walking. Pierce was still crumpled
off to one side. Doc started patching Rusk up while Vette and T7 attempted to deflect admirers. Jaesa
and Kira were still chattering like best friends. Quinn settled at Nalenne’s side, while the tall Sith stood
next to Rho.
Nalenne couldn’t take her eyes off the Sith. “Who are you?” she asked.
Rho grinned. “I mentioned. This is Lord Scourge, who was once the Emperor’s Wrath. He has found a
better way. So can you.”
“I think not. Nice fight, bye.”
“Actually, Lord Nalenne, I’m going to have to arrest you now.”
Nalenne tilted her head and tried to decide whether Rho was serious. “I didn’t even kill anybody! Today.
Yet.”
“It’s more on principle,” he said.
Scourge stepped forward. “No,” he said, in a voice rich with time and thought and something alluringly
smooth. “One like this is best left on the loose. I think she does more harm than good to her own
cause…and that buys us time for our purposes.”
Nalenne decided to give in and obviously check him out. “I knew I liked the look of you.”
Scourge frowned. “On second thought, arrest her.”
Before anyone could move, her little aide Turin trotted up. “My lord! My lord! Master Jedi! I – I have to
– I have to ask you to, uh, stop.”
“I was done fighting,” said Rho.
“He was about to lay hands on me,” said Nalenne.
Only a Republic stooge would accept the victim card from a Sith Lord. “I c-can’t allow that. I’m going to
have to ask you b-both to-to-to l-leave.” He looked about ready to drop dead from fear.
Nalenne shrugged at Rho. “Whaddya know. I don’t think we should bother these people any further.”
Then she faced Turin. “Oh, but Jaesa stays. She’s getting her picture with Professor X if I have to kill
every staff member here.”
“Is that a priority?” said Rho incredulously.
“Even Sith can care, frog-boy. I’m not going to ruin the con for her, okay? She can stay. Don’t hurt her.
Or recruit her. – Jaesa, you won’t go with these guys, will you? You do a lot of good where you are,
moderating me. Also I’ll come back tomorrow and kill everyone here if you go with him.”
“Understood, master.”
*
With some difficulty, Nalenne and a wounded Broonmark got Pierce moving. Vette ran ahead to bring
the ship to the volcano for pickup. Nalenne stowed the merchandise she had managed to bring with her,
then flopped into bed and thought about the soft-voiced Mirialan with the worrisomely good combat
skills.
“He’s going to be a problem.”
Ashlian: Well done! It was like a stellar (haha) episode of South Park.....one of their celebrity wrestling
matches, maybe....
Team Empire comes out about even with Team Republic in the one liner department.....I'm going to say
Doc had the edge on Quinn, some of those comments are priceless. And Pierce taking out Rusk with his
superior ability to metabolize sedatives...by the third sedation attempt, I was spitting my coffee out. Kira
and Jaesa discussing their masters and Nalenne crushing on Scourge... I honestly can't pick a favorite
part. Your socio-political comic commentary is spot on, and I love how you showcase the reasons a
genius like Malavai would have ever fallen for Nalenne to begin with through it. I just loved the entire
three parter, it was truly a showcase of your talent for characterization!
I can't say I'm sorry you were trapped on a plane with a pen and a pad of paper. May more such writing
opportunities lie in your (and therefore, our) future
iamthehoyden: /claps
The SW vs JK team meeting...so good! Pierce vs Rusk was hilarious; I had tears by the time they both
went down. And Quinn and Doctor "I'm too fabulous to have a real name", omg. Very well done!!
Adventures in Troubleshooting
32. In which Vette and Pierce take Nalenne to Korriban (I/IV)
A planet built mostly with tombs
Seems a dismal locale to presume
That a student can thrive
‘midst more dead than alive…
It just has a bit too much gloom.
“Hey, Nalenne.”
“Vette?”
“I got you a surprise. Figured you might like it.”
“What’s that?” Vette’s surprises were usually expensive but always amusing.
The Twi’lek beckoned Nalenne over and onto the bridge, where Pierce sat at the helm, staring down at a
hazy red world. “One free trip to Korriban, and an appointment with some Sorceress there.”
“Um…what do I do with that?”
“What you promised to do weeks ago. Figure out how to unload the captain.”
“Vette,” said Ghost-Quinn irritably from his usual station.
Uh… “Vette, that’s….”
“What needs doing? I know, no need to thank me.”
“I appreciate the thought, but….”
Pierce spoke without turning around. “Milord, if that man stays on board much longer I just might
snap.”
“But we’ve been working great. Straight victories for the last few weeks. I didn’t think there was a
problem.”
“I’m gonna have to side with Pierce on this one, my lord. Quinn tried to kill you once, and now he’s just
creepy. And you promised.”
“Shuttle’s in an hour,” said Pierce.
“I don’t need you guys dragging me through this.”
Vette crossed her arms. “Then why is he still here?”
“I’m standing right here listening, you know,” said Quinn.
“That’s the problem,” said Pierce, finally getting up and turning around. He looked Nalenne in the eye.
“Past time we fixed this.”
“I can’t believe this,” said Nalenne. “You’re staging an intervention for a relationship I’m not even in?”
“No,” said Vette patiently, “we’re staging an intervention for the past-due eviction notice on the guy
who botched your assassination. The fact that you’re not in a relationship with him is just a bonus.”
“It’s not like he could do it again.”
“Not the point, Nalenne. You’ll thank me later.”
“I’ll thank you later,” Pierce told Nalenne.
“There’ll be thankfulness all around,” concluded Vette.
“So who am I supposed to consult for this thing I didn’t agree to?”
Vette looked to Pierce, who checked the nav console. “Overseer Ragate. You know her?”
“Oh, ugh. Crazy woman. Put me through this stupid blood divination ritual. My clothes stank for a
week.”
“Was it a useful blood divination ritual?” asked Pierce.
“Told me I would need Vette to succeed.”
Vette beamed. “See? This woman obviously knows what she’s talking about.”
Quinn had a sudden coughing fit.
“It was one sentence,” said Nalenne. “She didn’t even mention you by name.”
“It’s better than nothing, milord,” said Pierce.
“You feel awfully strongly about this.”
“You feel suspiciously weak.” Pierce looked from Nalenne to Quinn and back. “Don’t go in for the
touchy-feely stuff myself, so I’ll only say this once. I know what the captain meant to you, even if I’ll
never understand why. I know half of you thinks there’s a second chance and the other half knows the
truth and you’re keeping your eyes shut hoping not to face it. Won’t work, by the way, and the attempt
doesn’t suit you. You need this push. We’re happy to give it. There, deep thought done. Sooner we solve
this, sooner we get back to a good scrap, eh?”
“Wow, I’m impressed,” said Vette.
“I’m a talented guy,” said Pierce.
Nalenne looked over to Quinn. He was watching her with a perfectly neutral expression. Oh, thanks for
the help. She frowned at Vette. “I don’t have to do any of this.”
“My lord? I am willing to set foot on Korriban again, land of the slaves and home of some of the least
pleasant months of my life, if it gives us even the beginnings of a hope that something can be done here.
That should tell you how seriously we take this.”
“I’m not going to parrot some blunt ‘How do I kill him’ as stated by suddenly-bossy you,” warned
Nalenne.
“Just as long as you go, I don’t care what you ask,” said Vette.
Pierce raised a hand. “Uh. I care.”
“Not helping,” said Vette.
“You’re going, milord. Right?”
“Quinn’s a jerk and tried to kill you. Hold that thought,” added Vette.
“I guess.” Nalenne rolled her shoulders nervously. “Just Quinn and me. Okay? But I’m not doing another
blood ritual. Those are gross.”
kabeone: I have to say I love this entire series. But now I have no idea what I actually want to see
happen. I'll just keep hitting refresh until you finish it.
35. In which a question is asked and answered for Quinn and Nalenne (II/IV)
The teachers at Korriban High
Are insane. But you’d better comply.
They’ll assign lots of stuff
On the “eek” side of rough,
But your options are “do it” or “die.”
The divination involved another blood ritual.
Overseer Ragate was a short slight woman, old beyond what most humans would ever live to see. Her
robes were rich and crisp, seemingly sturdier than she herself was. She greeted Nalenne with an oddly
disdainful laugh and a surprised tone. “Emperor’s Wrath, is it? How far you’ve come, child.”
“Still dragging acolytes through the red red mud here?”
“Ancient ritual. It’s respectable work.”
“If it makes you happy, I guess. So, I have a question.”
Ragate’s rheumy eyes fixed on ghost-Quinn, who was standing just behind Nalenne’s shoulder. “I know.”
“Right. Yes. Um, do you know what he is?”
“A blight in the Force. A thing that should not be.” Ragate looked back to Nalenne, her gaze suddenly
sharp and bright as bare steel. “Your boyfriend, wasn’t he? It was the scandal of the week before the
war started back up.”
“Yeah, I try not to talk about the boyfriend part. So….” She looked at Quinn. He raised his eyebrows a
tiny bit and watched her expectantly. And once again, I say, thanks for the help. She turned back to
Ragate. “I’d like to wipe him out of existence. Any advice?”
“You know the price of knowledge.”
“Do I have to? Can’t I pull rank or something to skip the bloodbath?”
“The skull, the symbol of death. The blood, the fluid of life. What better tools to divine what to do with a
dead man?”
“I was hoping a polite question would do the trick.”
Ragate laughed an eerie shrill laugh, then jerked her head toward the high stone arch she was always
guarding. “Get in there, kid.”
To the altar, which always had a full stock of human skulls; to the blood pool, which always had an intact
wall nearby through which some weird monster that couldn’t resist the smell of skull-plus-blood was
always ready to crash. The fight didn’t seem quite as difficult this time around.
When Nalenne emerged from the ritual room, a bloody skull in either hand, Ragate stared. “Give the
skulls to me, child,” she rasped with a newfound intensity. The old woman accepted them and cradled
them in her arms, watching as the stubbornly non-clotting blood trickled down through the furrows and
fused joints of the bone.
Nalenne fiddled with her blood-spattered sleeves and wondered when she would be free to pick up the
change of clothes she had left in an office around the corner.
Ragate chuckled malevolently and looked up to fix Nalenne with eyes turned suddenly red. “Ah, you will
not be free of your human until you pay him what he is owed.”
“See, Quinn, you just have to pay me - what did you say?”
“Pay him what you promised, and he pays you, for your own vows were heard and your debts made
binding. Only when they are fulfilled can he be killed.”
“My lord,” said Quinn diffidently, “this still ends my violent death. Are you certain there is no peaceful
release option?”
The old woman cocked her head. “Are you a complete imbecile? We’re all Sith here.”
“Don’t mind him,” said Nalenne. “He’s been under stress.”
“I would suggest a smarter mate next time around,” sniffed Ragate. “I suppose at least this one is easy
on the eyes.”
Nalenne giggled for about two seconds before she noticed something. “Wait, you’re giving a suggestion?
I thought all counsel had to be paid in blood.”
Ragate’s eyes darted from side to side. “That was the last of the arcane energy from your current ritual.”
She nodded down at the skulls in her arms. “Now begone before you make me angry.”
Meta notes 3
On the series direction…
: All right, everybody. Earnest But Inexpert Academic calls this head-faction meeting to order.
: And then bam, pew! And then she gets taken hostage by an uncontrolled –
: Extremely Flaky Creative Mind, please focus.
: Yes’m.
: We’ve been at this for a couple of weeks now, ever since…what was the precipitating event?
: I think it was the image of losing Vette’s collar remote so she’s kind of enslaved whether a Warrior
wants to keep her or not. Then we combined that with that fantasy you haven’t shut up about for the
last five months where you kill Quinn during the Incident, and it just spun out of control.
: You know you like it, Cynical Rakghoul Engineer. Now, EBIA, we’ve got a bunch more ideas on this
story, right? Right?
: I know you’ll die without approval, Attention-Seeking Jawa, so you’re in luck. There’s plenty
more; in fact, there's enough that I think we should start planning the shape of this story. Basically there
are two paths this series can take: One, we go on forever. No one meaningfully changes, the crew keeps
bumbling from silly occurrence to silly occurrence, and Quinn’s forever aloneness is a perpetual
punchline that will never interfere with Nalenne’s love life or emotional wellbeing.
: All in favor, say aye. I live to see that man suffer.
:…
Aye aye, EFCM. Malavai Quinn deserves to suffer, because he is an objectively terrible human being.
: I can’t support that policy at all! I’m still kind of in love with him.
: We know.
: Even if we all voted to torment Quinn forever, the indefinite-continuation scenario will inevitably
weaken, slow down, and probably start to feel like a writing burden. It’ll be difficult to impossible to
maintain whatever quality level or tone we were shooting for. Not great. Our second option: We
continue the overarching plot and actually bring it to a close someday. We wrote a beginning; now we
write a middle and eventually write a real ending.
: Does that mean I have to end up giving Quinn nice things? That’s disgusting. Like really indulgent
fanfic.
: We’re writing really indulgent fanfic already.
: …Touché. Well, EBIA, you scholarly types all know that "dying painfully, again" is a legitimate story
ending. So if you want to get all structured on me I’ll keep working in the general direction of an overall
vision. But I don’t have to make it something ASJ and you will like.
(Did you know there’s a 20-image limit on these posts? Bah!)
(Also, I finally actually rolled Nalenne as an in-game character. She exists!)
(Now with any luck, EFCM will get back to producing the fluffy day-to-day stories to fill in between plot
points.)
36. In which Nalenne examines her vows (III/IV)
In the Empire, fine print’s no myth;
Read it well and your safety comes with.
Okay, that’s a lie.
Though on guard, you’ll still die
At the casual whim of a Sith.
Nalenne settled on the reading nook couch and looked up at ghost-Quinn. “Let’s suppose that the
outstanding debt is something we both did at once.”
“That would narrow the search,” agreed Quinn.
“I know you swore undying devotion…in retrospect, maybe that was unwise…you swore it a few times,
but I only ever returned it when we got married.”
“True.”
“Does anybody have a copy of those vows on file?”
“It was only slightly modified from Imperial standard 621.b.”
“Yes, but every detail’s going to matter.”
“It wasn’t my idea to change it at all. Furthermore, didn’t you save a copy?” said Quinn.
“Er, no, I don’t think so.”
“Then it’s a good thing I did. In the ship databanks.”
“One of your personal vaults?”
“Yes, one of the more heavily encrypted ones. I haven’t referred to it in some time.”
“Oh, I paid a slicer to open every last one after you died.”
“I see.”
“And reviewed the contents. And then wiped everything that wasn’t directly related to Baras.”
His eyes widened. “You deleted it all?”
“Yup, and double-overwrote where it had been. It felt good.”
“You erased our wedding vows?”
“I wasn’t exactly planning on using them again,” said Nalenne defensively.
“This might be the key to my ghostly state and you wiped it out of spite!”
“Bitter heartbroken rage. Subtle difference.”
“Did we leave a copy with the officiant, the Imperial envoy on Voss?”
“Doubtful, but we could ask.”
“If anything would cause inexplicable noncorporeal disturbances, it would be Voss. It was a vile place.”
“Don’t be so harsh,” said Nalenne. “We got married there, after all.”
“Yes, but the food was terrible.”
“Voss. We’re going.”
*
“Voss?” said Vette. “All right! They had the weirdest liquor I have ever tasted, and I’ve never been able
to find it anywhere else.”
“That place was alive with the Force,” Jaesa smiled.
“Bggglok,” growled Broonmark, whatever that meant.
“Are we still banned from shooting the ‘Pubs there?” said Pierce warily.
“I think so,” said Nalenne. “But Gormak are still open season, unless they seriously decided to try to
reunite the race.”
“Here’s hoping they didn’t,” grumbled Pierce.
“But it would be a great thing if they did,” said Jaesa.
“Killing is a great thing,” buzzed Broonmark.
“Do what you like,” said Nalenne, “I’ve got my own business to handle. Just don’t tell me if you do
anything illegal, okay? And don’t get caught.”
“Sith clan kills witnesses,” quorked Broonmark cheerfully.
“What he said…I think,” said Pierce.
“I can guess: Kill killy kill kill,” said Vette.
“Hey, that’s not necessarily what he said,” said Nalenne. “Give the Talz some credit.”
Vette gave Nalenne a Look.
“Okay, it’s what he said.”
“Thought so. Let’s go already. There’s a shot of lonoren out there with my name on it.”
iamthehoyden: I actually clapped today when i saw there were new stories here! Yay!!
DarthRamette: This is awesome. I was kinda sulking after Thursday Morning Wrath was ending but
found this today. This is funny and definatally puts the Wrath in a new light.
37. In which the crew seeks Voss answers (IV/IV)
The Voss are a curious race
From a curious curious place.
Though in attitude they’re
Undeniably square,
All their talk is a circular chase.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHPANICPANIC,” said Nalenne.
“Ease up,” said Pierce, hunching over the flight controls.
THUD whaackCK shSHshew shew said the strange weaponry impacting on the S.A.B.E.R. Helicarrier’s
hull.
“I thought Voss liked us!” said Nalenne.
Jaesa looked up from the secondary nav console and made a prim little hm noise. “They might have
found out about that time we hunted down and assassinated the Jedi envoy, then spent several weeks
sabotaging Republic efforts with no regard for Voss life before twisting the truth on the greatest
historical discovery of our time for the sole purpose of making the Jedi look bad.”
“Or maybe they just caught a few words out of the other side of Darth Serevin’s mouth,” said Vette.
“We weren’t the only Imperial jerks on Voss.”
“Their weaponry is impressive,” said Broonmark. “We envy their power and precision.”
“This isn’t fair!” said Nalenne. “We parted in friendship!”
“I think you parted from the invisible dead guy in friendship, milord,” said Pierce, cutting another
sharply angled maneuver and snarling as the ship got another glancing hit anyway. “You parted from
Voss-Ka at large with a certain ‘We haven’t decided whether we hate you yet.’”
“Looks like they made up their minds,” said Vette.
Broonmark activated his vibroblade, which on the crowded and violently shaking bridge drew more than
one anguished stare. “We do not wish to die without a weapon in our hands.”
sccccrack. Another impact tore something off. The something scraped down the length of the ship
before falling away.
“After all this time, lieutenant, you still pilot like a drunken gundark,” said ghost-Quinn.
“Funny, because I don’t see you stepping in. Jaesa, hyperspace route?”
The girl nodded. “Just now. Hit it.”
Most of the S.A.B.E.R. Helicarrier streaked into hyperspace.
*
Nalenne set her fists on her hips and yelled at the holo. “I want to speak to your manager.”
“Y-yes, my lord,” said the unfortunate receptionist at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He brought a lean
Zabrak into the holocall and cut himself out.
The Zabrak bowed. “My lord,” he said. “To what do I owe the honor?”
“Why did Voss try to shoot me out of the sky?”
“We have a travel advisory set on Voss, my lord….”
“I’m the Emperor’s Wrath!”
“They’re not on speaking terms with anything Imperial or Sith.”
“No one opens fire on the Emperor’s Wrath and lives! We’re going back there! We’re punching their
stupid Mystics in the face! We’re tearing those stupid ion cannons apart piece by piece, killing their
precious Three, building a replica of the Citadel on the rubble of their dumb Tower, putting their people
in chains, and – what?” Quinn had been waving off to one side. He raised a hand and pointed to his
wedding ring. “Right, and doing some personal investigation about my wedding venue. Possibly before
we punch the Mystics.”
“My lord…Darth Serevin never told you what happened to the first Imperial invasion force.”
“He told me enough. He told me…actually, nothing. At all. He just said it would not be practical to try
that again.”
The Zabrak nodded. “In short, nothing lands on that planet that the Voss do not want to land. No ship.
No fleet. And Voss has ejected both Republic and Imperial envoys for the time being. We do not know
why.”
“Well, find out,” snapped Nalenne. “You have no idea how important this is.”
He sighed resignedly. “With the Sith, my lord, I never do. If the situation changes, you will be notified.”
Nalenne nodded, sour-faced, and cut the holo.
Quinn cleared his throat. “I feel I should remind you, my lord, that I wanted to get married on Dromund
Kaas.”
“Shut up.”
38. In which Nalenne encounters a Gree representative
An experienced bargainer knows
When to ease up and when to oppose.
The wrong move tempts fates,
Which just demonstrates
That diplomacy's best left to pros.
“What’s the holdup?”
Nalenne had been walking down the main thoroughfare of Kaas City, right alongside Pierce, until she
wasn’t. A small crowd was gathered around something or other, which, as Pierce helpfully cleared a
path, turned out to be an Imperial officer – major, by the looks of him – standing next to a shiny yellow
protocol droid.
“Well, that’s just yellow parallel,” the protocol droid was saying. He was standing before a big open
panel in the wall, staring at a complex mess of wires and pipes. “That’s just yellow, yellow parallel.”
“Is there a reason traffic is stopped here?” said Nalenne.
The major boggled for a fraction of a second before snapping to attention. “My lord! Not much of a
problem, no. Tiny, really. Just some Gree droid demanding attention.”
The protocol droid looked at Nalenne. “Greetings. I am Kona-K of the Gree. We have come to arrest the
yellow-shifting of the power works.”
“I don’t see anybody around here worth arresting,” said Nalenne, looking around.
“Gree know when blue acute must be introduced. Our black sphere will progress quickly if we gain
white-team-cooperation.”
“Is, uh, is that so?”
“Yes. Can you assist us?”
“Maybe. Should I want to?”
“This is left to you. We must request that green bisector be removed before blue convex evolves to
yellow.”
“Say that again?”
“We must request that green bisector be removed before blue convex evolves to yellow.”
Nalenne sighed. “Say that again, comprehensibly?”
“I see that your understanding remains white-shifted. Your cloth-lightning-young ones interrupt us at
our maintenance. This green bisection must stop.”
“The Sith acolytes have been screwing with you?”
“I believe you comprehend our meaning.”
“So you came all the way from, uh, Gree, to yell at our acolytes?”
“We knew it was time for maintenance. Even a purple parallel must sometimes touch a blue acute.”
“We didn’t even invite this guy, did we?” Nalenne asked the officer.
“No, my lord. This apparatus isn’t even theirs,” said the major. “Our boys took it over decades ago and
have been maintaining it. We have no idea what the Gree want with it now.”
“So there isn’t a problem with it?”
“Not from our end.”
Pierce cleared his throat. “That presents some possibilities for resolving this, milord, that don’t involve
translatin’ that rot.”
“Really?”
Pierce grinned. “They say there are two universal languages,” he said, clicking his blaster rifle into
readiness. “And I don’t speak math.”
Kona-K threw his arms up when Pierce aimed. “Ochre nonagon! Ochre nonagon take you all!” he
squealed, and then whatever he was saying was drowned out by the glorious roar of high-speed blaster
fire.
The assembled crowd cheered as Kona-K lurched and fell over. Pierce raised his rifle, theatrically blew
imaginary smoke from the barrel, and relaxed.
The major was staring at the equipment panel, which had developed a number of scorch marks.
“We’re all set here now, right, major?” said Nalenne.
“I’m not sure.” The major ran his hand over the nearest blaster hole. “This. This little part here.”
“Doesn’t look bad. Should be an easy fix.”
“Actually, my lord, that apparatus in the middle dates from the original installation. We have no idea
how it works, and judging by the amount of smoke it’s still emitting, it’s probably damaged beyond our
ability to figure out.”
“Was it important?”
“Rather central to the whole thing.”
“Can we, um…how do we fix it?”
The major hung his head and covered his face with one hand. “We call in the Gree.”
39. In which Jaesa bothers Nalenne about Quinn
A creature of thought and of action
Can offer a certain attraction.
To plan what to do
And then carry it through,
If it’s smart, invites pleasant reaction.
Nalenne slipped onto the bridge, as a matter of habit, to check on ghost-Quinn. He had his back to the
entryway, as usual. She could see his face reflected in one of the console panels.
He was leaning over the console, murmuring curt orders to 2V as the screen scrolled and he put
together the information streaming by. Perfect concentration. Nalenne was surprised when Jaesa
appeared at her elbow, but the girl stayed quiet. Nalenne looked back at Quinn and couldn’t help but
smile. “He’s really sexy when he does that,” she whispered to Jaesa.
“And he likes it when you go all unstoppable-Wrath like you did out there today. He likes it a lot.”
Nalenne felt herself blush a little. “Really?”
“He would never admit it, but I can tell. The way he looks at you. It’s just like it used to be.”
Sanity hit Nalenne’s brain hard. “Oh. Right, yeah, that reminds me, I was just thinking about a change of
subject.” She pushed away from the wall and started hurrying toward her quarters.
Jaesa kept up. “Have you talked about this? With anybody?”
“About what? Subject changes? All the time. I’m coming up with a new one any minute now.”
“No. You and Quinn. Your marriage. The betrayal. What’s between the two of you now. Any of it.”
Nalenne thought of a good not-talking-to-Jaesa activity and changed directions to make for the cargo
hold. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the yelling.”
“You both throw blame, loudly, yes. I have yet to hear a single attempt at understanding or admitting
what we can see when your guard is down or, or even feeling anything but anger.”
“You are incredibly far out of line, Jaesa.”
“You won’t tell anybody where the line is!”
“Well, it comes before telling me to talk about how I feel about the captain, that’s for sure!” Nalenne
waved when she saw Broonmark emerging from the cargo hold. “Hey, Broonmark.” She Force-tweaked
her vocal cords and dropped into Talz, using the word Broonmark had taught her for ‘Talz lessons.’
“Killing?"(*)
“Sith clan hippie bothers?”
Not quite relevant to a Talz lesson, but okay. “Yes.”
Broonmark hesitated. He looked at Jaesa and blinked one eye pair, then the other. “Wow,” he blorped,
and drew his vibrosword, and sprung.
Nalenne panicked. “Not that killing!” she screeched. She Forced pushed Broonmark into the nearest wall
and then walked over to outline the shape of the translator datapad where he could see. “Killing killing.”
“Oh,” blipped Broonmark in a disappointed tone.
Quinn came through the wall at what appeared to be a quickly-arrested sprint. His rapid scan of the
room ended with a hard look at Broonmark. “My lord. I heard a struggle. Are you all right?”
“Everything’s fine, captain,” said Nalenne, meeting Jaesa’s puppy eyes straight on. “Nothing going on
worth talking about. Return to your post.”
He nodded, respectfully, and headed back to the bridge.
“Master,” prompted Jaesa.
“What’s Talz for ‘nosy harridan’?” Nalenne asked Broonmark.
“Sith clan hippie,” repeated Broonmark. Funny, how much Talz vocabulary did double duty. Broonmark
waved the still-activated vibrosword and watched the Jedi.
“Fine, master, I’m leaving,” said Jaesa. “For now.”
40. In which Nalenne witnesses a Republic operation
Spoilers for a Trooper’s Act 2 M1-4X companion quest.
A robot from old Nar Shaddaa
Held Republic ideals as law.
If Imperials dare
Show their face - M1's there!
Eat missiles! For freedom! Huzzah!
“Hey. Vette. How do I look?”
Nalenne twirled to show Vette her outfit, a segmented and fitted suit of black armor with a good
threatening cape and a gaping (or, technically, swelling) chest cutout that marked it as purely social
‘armor.’
“On the raging-evil scale, I give you a ten. What’s the occasion?”
“Meeting a bigwig on Nar Shaddaa. The Ambassador. He’s a big recruiter for the Empire, diplomatic
type. He’s invited the Wrath and any interested staff to talk strategy over dinner.”
“And you’re even faintly interested in this?”
“Quinn wants to go. Plus the dinner’s at the Star Cluster.”
“The place that snagged that exclusive contract with Gormon the Hutt for production of that really
wacky blue vodka?”
“The very same.”
“Consider me 'interested staff.'”
And so Nalenne, Quinn, and Vette went to visit the glittering Star Cluster Casino on Nar Shaddaa.
A slave met them at the door to escort them up to the penthouse, where, under heavy guard, the
Ambassador, wearing an enormously tall hat, was working on something or other.
He rose to greet the party warmly and sat with them to dinner. After Nalenne and he had exchanged
about three words, Quinn jumped in with some policy question based on a propaganda speech the
Ambassador had delivered the previous week two star systems over. Nalenne chatted quietly with Vette
about the food…and the vodka, of course.
Two delicious courses, while the men exchanged impassioned yet somehow completely boring opinions.
Nalenne tuned in briefly as Quinn stood beside her and gestured energetically: “The difficulty is in
targeting a cultural message on these highly fragmented planets. Courting the high-value populations –
the Hutts, the Annihilator network, the confectioners’ guild – must be handled carefully, lest their many
scattered opponents unite against our message.”
“I’m sorry,” said the Ambassador. “The confectioners’ guild?”
“It doesn’t sound like much, but threaten their supply chain and you’ll find they are among the most
brutal and cunning warriors in the galaxy, as we learned to our detriment in the last war. They would
make invaluable allies.”
“This is really good,” mouthed Nalenne at Vette, pointing to the vichyssoise.
“I repeat, so is this,” whispered Vette, sipping more vodka.
A thump resounded on the door. Then another, then seemingly two at once, and then the metal door
shattered, giving way to a massive three-legged battle droid. “Ambassador! Your lying days are at an
end!” announced the machine.
A breathless pause. Then: “Havoc Squad,” spat Quinn, in a tone he usually reserved for deserters and
men with nonregulation haircuts.
“None of that,” said Nalenne. She brought out her saber and jumped to intercept.
The droid tilted and headbutted her. “You will not stop the cause of freedom, Sith!”
She staggered back, but recovered. “Yes, I will,” she assured him, swinging to block his blaster fire and
start hacking at him.
“I think not!” The robot skittered to one side, flung a couple of guards away, then made for the
Ambassador at a dead sprint. “You’re under arrest, Ambassador, and you’re coming with me to face
Republic justice!”
Nalenne stood stunned. “Wait, why is he the high-value target here?”
Without slowing for a moment, the robot scooped up a shocked-looking Ambassador, sending his big
hat flying…and then made straight for the window. “For freedom!”
“Are you insane?” she yelled, rushing to get in an already-too-late blow on the robot’s trailing leg. Then
it was gone.
But hey, if that stupid droid could jump, so could she.
She flung herself out into the warm murk of a Nar Shaddaa evening. The droid was already some meters
below her, and when he saw her falling he did some truly interesting self-folding in an effort to
streamline himself. Her cape wasn’t helping her cause. She kept her saber ready; she didn’t want a delay
when she landed.
There was a great deal of nothing to land on beneath them.
They were coming up on a traffic lane. The droid slammed into a heap of junk on a passing garbage
scow…that streaked off before Nalenne got close. She herself angled slightly to hit a sleek-looking red
speeder.
She came down on the hood with enough force to knock out her breath and possibly several of her
bones. That hurt more than expected. If the droid is still functioning after a fall like this I will not be
happy.
Somebody was screaming a lot. Oh, probably the speeder’s driver. With an effort Nalenne raised her
head – ooh, dizzy – and looked at the Devaronian behind the controls. “Keep driving or I will kill you,”
she warned. Oh, but no way was she going to face a combat droid in this shape. “Just run me to Mezenti
Spaceport.”
The skylane winds carried a distant cry: “For the Republic!”
Nalenne let her head fall. This, she thought, was why she tried to avoid networking dinners.
41. In which Nalenne and Quinn have a serious talk
If you’re an Imperial son,
Two faces are better than one.
Lie and connive
To simply survive…
Just try not to think what you’ve done.
Nar Shaddaa. Smoke, noise, and neon lights, everyone going a mile a minute; self-contained worlds
leaping from the murk thirty stories below to flashing glittering heights thirty stories up, monuments to
every imaginable pleasure.
Nalenne, being fresh out of the inclination for pleasures at the moment, settled on the edge of a midlevel rooftop and looked up at the brilliant streaks of the upper skylane traffic.
Quinn’s voice sounded without so much as a warning footstep first. “My lord. Permission to speak?”
“Yeah, sure,” she said absently.
“Nalenne.”
At the sound of her name she turned around to face him. He was neat as ever in his unchanging
uniform, seemingly anxious now, though the shifting multicolored lights around them could throw any
false expression onto a face. “What is it?” she asked.
“It seems you won’t answer this until I corner you. So here we are.” He settled in that formal parade
rest, hands folded behind him. “Why?”
Nalenne blinked. “The guy who sprung an assassination trap on me wants to ask me why deadly force
came into play?”
“You know why I was there. I had a duty, a responsibility to my cause and the champion of that cause.
But I can’t explain you. You’re bloodthirsty, yes, unstable, yes, but you would do anything for the people
you love, and even for people you merely sense potential in. You’ve spared Niselle, Jaesa, Broonmark.
You would forgive Vette or Pierce in a heartbeat.”
“’Forgive’ is such a strong word.”
“Why them and not me?”
Something clicked into place. “You were counting on me making a kissy face and welcoming you right
back, weren’t you? You were planning on it, if you lost. You scheming weasel. That’s why you’ve been so
mad at me all this time.”
“That’s not an answer.” He sounded annoyed.
“Did you even have a plan A? Did you actually have any intention of killing me?”
“Yes. I had no choice.” He relaxed his pose and raised one hand to stroke his chin. “But you’re on to
something. You’ve finally worked out the start of my contingency plan, in case I failed. Go on.”
She considered. “If you were counting on love, you must have considered it an exploitable weakness.
Advantages: It kept me from killing you, and it kept you close to me. It was a huge blind spot in my
defenses. Furthermore, if you really intended to kill me, then screwing up one attempt wouldn’t change
that intent – you never give up, not while you have resources or raw will left to throw at the problem.”
She stood up and paced. “So…if your trap failed, you figured I would welcome you back. You would wait
for another chance to finish the job. You would do it. That’s why you needed me alone, too. Even apart
from your odds in combat, you can’t recover a loss if my friends, who don’t share my weakness,
intervene with deadly force.”
“Excellent,” he said. “Perfect. I had despaired of teaching you anything, but you do learn, eventually.”
“I was listening, Quinn. I was, all that time we were together. It’s just that smashing the problem has a
100% success rate, so why would I ever have to think like you?” Her higher brain, having lumbered into
motion, kept going. “So basically forgiveness would’ve been fatal and you’ve been guilt-tripping me all
this time for taking the only course of action that would have stopped you from murdering me.”
Quinn returned to a cool flat tone. “Ah. That is…a very coarse way of stating it, my lord.”
She crossed her arms. “Plans within plans to kill me. I was justified.”
“It still hurt.”
“When exactly did you go from ‘kill kill kill’ to ‘guilt guilt guilt’, anyway? You’re not still secretly on ‘kill
kill kill’, are you?”
“No, my lord. You won. Baras lost. Your way is the Empire’s future. Therefore I am with you.”
Nalenne made a face at him. “Also you’re stuck in a hellish limbo within a limited physical range of me.
Therefore you’re with me.”
He gestured impatiently. “The two conditions happen to coincide. That wasn’t the point. I don’t have to
hurt you now, not anymore – and, impossible though you are, I wouldn’t want to. I just want to know….”
Uncharacteristically, he had to take a moment to collect himself. “Nalenne, I want to know why.”
“Since ‘self-defense’ doesn’t satisfy your twisted analysis? It really, really bothers you that you didn’t see
this coming, doesn’t it? Well, fine.” He had his motivations. She had hers. “You recall I was still stiff from
a sprained ankle that day, and not happy about it.”
“Er, yes.”
"And you knew I was still puking from the aftereffects of that Voss spirit guy's body-snatching trick."
"Yes, I suppose, but - "
"And then the coffee maker and the freezer simultaneously broke the night before, leaving me without
tasty beverages or worthwhile desserts?"
"I don't see how this - "
Nalenne stamped her foot. “If you were counting on my mercy, why the blazes did you spring that when
you knew I was having such a crappy day? Honestly, am I the kind of woman who could hold my temper
through such an unholy heap of annoyances just because amor’s supposed to vincit omnia?"
Quinn eventually managed to pick his jaw up off the floor. "I thought I rated slightly above 'boo hoo I
had to settle for orange juice this morning'!"
"Well then, you miscalculated, didn't you?"
"The idea that you killed your husband because of dietary inconvenience is obscene!"
"Serves you right for timing the attempted murder of your wife so badly!"
"In the future perhaps you could recommend a better time for my being forced to hurt you?"
"Let me think about that: NO. I may be petty but I'm not stupid, darling."
They abruptly thought of interesting things to study off to opposite sides.
"Quinn. Petty but not stupid, Quinn."
"At least tell me you regret it."
"Occasionally," she said. "Maybe. When you're not acting like a jerk. If you’re stuck here either way, I
wish I could undo the killing part. Our relationship doesn’t work too well without the anger sex.”
“I tend to agree.”
“But you really should’ve known better.”
They stood at the edge of the roof for a while, watching the incandescent rush of ten thousand
unconnected lives.
In time, Nalenne spoke again. “And now I’m trying to get rid of you. Was there ever a time neither one
of us was actively planning on destroying the other?”
“There was the brief interlude when you thought I was permanently dead. Otherwise, no.”
“Huh. Y’know, I worried about marrying a non-Sith, but you really did get the basics right.”
“Yes.” He let a few moments pass in a silence that was, if not friendly, at least not hostile. “It’s a shame
you brought the rest of it to this miserable state.”
“Malavai?”
“Yes?”
“Stop talking.”
42. In which Nalenne catches Quinn conspiring
Our comms may inform and amuse,
Correspondents may gladly enthuse.
But behind that bright glow,
The cynical know
that the holo is rarely good news.
Nalenne woke up early and ravenous. She pulled on her dressing gown and headed out to the mess by
way of the holo room.
The holo was active, and Quinn was there, standing before Servants One and Two.
Rage rarely swelled this high this fast. “Quinn! What happened to ‘I will be no one’s spy this time’?” she
demanded.
He turned to face her. She raised her hand and tried to apply a Force choke.
She felt nothing in her mind’s grip, and Quinn was not physically affected. Only his eyes changed. Yeah,
you remember what this felt like. Jack***.
“Release him,” said Servant One.
Nalenne dropped her effort and turned to the holo. “Five seconds. Explain. Or I will destroy you.”
Servant One looked meaningfully at ghost-Quinn. “Truly, I’m trembling,” he said dryly.
“My lord,” said Quinn, “all they do is give me the strategic guidance for our work. Since you are less than
willing to take direction from them yourself.”
“The captain has more than septupled the Wrath’s productivity,” intoned Servant Two.
Not enough to wipe the thought of Quinn reporting to Baras. “There’s more. What have you been doing
behind my back?”
“Only what is necessary,” said Servant One, “for you to actually earn that stipend of yours.”
“And you couldn’t have done this in front of my back?”
“You’re impossible to manage,” said Servant One. “You’re infinitely more docile when the orders come
from the captain.”
“I’m not certain ‘docile’ is the most accurate term,” said Quinn.
“Comparatively speaking,” said Servant One, “it really is.”
“The Wrath if left to her own devices would be a worthless layabout and disgraceful drain on society,”
said Servant Two.
“The Wrath is not amused!” said Nalenne. “This will stop!”
Servants One and Two exchanged looks. “Do you really want to be the one doing the weekly discussions
of the optimal strategic stress points in the coreward Ilum sector?” said Servant One.
Nalenne looked at Quinn. He shrugged, ever so slightly, with a bland innocent look on his face.
“The complete and utter boring-ness of the work isn’t the part that matters,” she said. “This kind of
stunt is practically calculated to piss me off.”
“I still serve you,” he said quietly.
“The Wrath pretty much hates you right now,” announced Servant Two.
“Would you stop stating the obvious?” said Nalenne.
“You may cooperate today, Wrath,” said Servant One. “But if we call again next week you will defy us.
Quinn is a considerably more stable conduit for the Emperor’s will.”
“He’s supposed to be my conduit! Get your own!”
“You’ve been enjoying the work, have you not, my lord?” said Quinn.
She eyed him cautiously. “I suppose.”
“Then trust me to keep directing your efforts where you can do the most good for the Empire.”
“You’ll understand if I never accept ‘Trust me’ out of your mouth again.”
“Optimal stress points in strategically critical systems,” Servant One reminded her. “Mind-bogglingly
boring conversations.”
“You’re really just saving me from the mission planning?”
“I promise, my lord.”
“Fine, then. Have your chats. But I’ll kill you all if you gang up on me.”
“You’re planning to kill me anyway, my lord.”
“Keep your logic to yourself! I hate you, I hate your secret making-me-do-work conspiracy, and you will
BEHAVE YOURSELF OR I WILL MAKE YOUR UNLIFE HELL.”
“And you wonder why we don’t want to talk to you,” said Servant One.
43. In which Jaesa's extracurriculars draw scrutiny
The Jedi, as any can see,
Must feed all their knights and trainees.
Though all keep their eye
On what money can’t buy,
They’ll still take donations (tax-free!).
“My lord.”
“What do you want, Quinn?”
“Are you aware that the Jedi enclave on Alderaan has an active petition to be renamed after Nomen
Karr?”
“Uh, why?”
“It seems one Nomen Karr has donated well over a million credits to its supply and upkeep. The vast
majority of these credits can be traced to your account.”
Nalenne flushed. “Jaesa.”
*
“You told me a hundred times you didn’t care about which charity I donated to, master. Just as long as I
wasn’t using my special power on behalf of the Jedi.”
“I thought you were rescuing orphans and feeding puppies! I find that whole business revolting, but at
least it would’ve kept you clear of the war.”
“The Alderaanian enclave is clear of the war.”
“Apart from all the Jedi who train there and then go out to kill my friends!”
“Your evil Sith rivals, you mean. You should be thanking me.”
“Are we or are we not going to execute her, my lord?” Quinn said impatiently.
“I’m still ranting here, captain.”
“Of course.” He bowed and backed off.
“Jaesa, no more funding the Republic war effort or the Jedi with my money.”
“You never scrutinize Vette this closely. And she gets a bigger allowance.”
“Vette isn’t on an explicit mission to undo everything I am and stand for. Plus she’s better at guilt
tripping me and she isn’t in bed with my mortal enemies.”
“Master! Even in jest, I’m not in bed with anybody! Except you on holovid nights.”
“Well maybe the not-in-bed is your problem. I should foist Niselle’s next handsome-Sith
recommendation off on you.”
Jaesa’s eyes went round. “Please don’t.”
“Don’t convince me you need to be distracted.”
Jaesa bit her lip. “Captain Quinn, I know you like reporting this kind of thing, but I must request that you
stop sabotaging – “
“Your treason?” said Quinn coolly.
“It’s not treason. I’m not even Imperial.”
“Ah, my mistake. Your act of war.”
Nalenne rolled her eyes. “Quinn, we all know you’re only saying that because you’re jealous of Jaesa’s
and my relationship.”
“I’m saying it because she funneled over a million credits directly to the Jedi!”
“Jealous. You’re far from an impartial observer.”
“I’m not the one failing at impartiality, my lord.”
“Hey,” said Nalenne. “I’m not executing anybody for acts of war. I’ve learned my lesson there.” Quinn
glowered. Nalenne continued. “Tell you what, Jaesa. I’ll go level the enclave, and then you don’t have to
worry about sending them money or renaming it or anything. Also I’m cutting your allowance.”
“Master,” pleaded an anguished Jaesa.
“Jaesa, I love you.” Neither woman noticed the muscle near Quinn’s eye twitching at that. “But evil
comes first. And – look, I wasn’t going to mention it, but the Alderaanian enclave was on my to-do list
anyway. Really, Servant One brought it up last time we talked. Your friends were already doomed.”
Jaesa’s lower lip quivered. “I understand,” she said quietly, and ran to her quarters.
Quinn regarded Nalenne with that deceptively neutral expression of his. “My lord, Servant One has
never said anything of the sort.”
“I was being tactful, Quinn. Have 2V block all outgoing transmissions ‘til we reach Alderaan, would you?”
Something approaching approval crept across his face. “That was very nearly subtle. It will be done.”
And, with characteristic efficiency, he went straight for the bridge by way of the nearest wall.
Ayanka: It's quite frustrating Quinn can not be hurt... I'd also want to choke him for his 'conspiration'
with the hand. Oh, and I really would love to kill this arrogant Servant One - docile, phew! We are
warriors, not dogs!
It's quite frustrating Quinn can not be hurt…
bright_ephemera: And that...that's really the entire story of the Sith Warrior's relationship with the
man, isn't it?
Ayanka: Well... it is^^ Although my Quinn is wearing this pretty usefull shock-colar from the Belsavis
Social Gear. You can't really shock him, but you can imagine doing so
44. In which Nalenne kills time (and wampas) on Hoth
Hoth rejects science’s tools
And suspends ecological rules.
The fauna all eat
Exclusively meat
And declare all biologists fools.
Hoth. The Empire technically didn’t need Nalenne out this way, since the whole Hoth operation was
supposed to be a matter of dribbling out a few resources to keep a lot of the Republic’s resources tied
up.
But sometimes you just want a hot sweaty melee in the snow.
Through some argument process Nalenne could not divine, Pierce won and Vette lost such that Vette
had to come down to the surface. Broonmark, of course, volunteered, as did Quinn. Jaesa was still mad
at Nalenne and had holed up in her quarters with comic books. No matter; Nalenne just wanted to go
kill some stuff.
She swept into Dorn Base with her entourage and was greeted by Captain Yudrass himself. The Chiss
had dropped whatever his actual work was to scramble a welcoming party for the Wrath.
He bowed deeply in greeting. “My lord. It is an honor. Is there any way we can assist the Wrath?”
“Yeah. I’m looking for stuff to kill. High challenge, high population density if you can manage it.”
“…‘Stuff.’”
“Yeah. Whatever you’ve got. I’m just looking for a good scrap.”
Yudrass looked over at a fellow officer, then looked back to Nalenne. “Yes, my lord. Our strategic
operations are currently in a tight balance; we have the Republic where we want them. A larger
offensive would convince them to withdraw; a major loss would badly drain our resources.”
“Is there a fight somewhere in this line of thought?”
One of Yudrass’s entourage stepped up and whispered something. “Yes, Wrath,” said the Chiss. “There
is a former White Maw cave some ways to the north that has been overrun by a very large number of
small wampas. Whether it is a new breed or simply some strange pack of young ones, we cannot tell.
But removing the infestation would be a great help.”
“Awesome. Carry on.” She ignored the baffled look on his face as she proceeded to the lift.
The party mounted their speeders – 2V-R8 had finally gotten the mechanical customizations to handle a
speeder with some degree of finesse – and headed out to work.
Broonmark hesitated at the entrance of the cave. He waved a hand around and drew it toward his
proboscis. “We smell many wampas,” he said.
“Double the wampas, double the fun,” said Nalenne.
“And hundred times the wampas, Sith clan?”
“A hundred times the fun.”
“I’m not sure I like that reasoning,” said Vette.
“Sissy. C’mon.”
The cave was busy, and Nalenne liked that. She carved on ahead with Broonmark while Vette held back
placing blaster fire and Quinn moved around, scouting weaknesses to call and harassing the more
dangerous beasts.
In time the cave opened into a large chamber that had signs of previous human habitation – some metal
structure supporting the ice walls and ceiling, a few crates on the ground. And quite a few
representatives of the beings that had driven the humans out. Nalenne sang a battlecry and jumped
right in.
The little wampas were fast and vicious. It was fun. Nalenne wondered whether they were younglings.
Not that it mattered either way; they died like any other enemy.
Three of them broke from the frenzy and started galloping toward Quinn. The sight yanked at her
stomach a bit. “No!” she shouted, and instinctively vaulted away from her current engagement to take
down the middle one. The other two wampas brought themselves up short and spun to face her. “Look
at me, you overgrown rodents!”
“My lord,” yelled Vette. “Mad at him. Remember?”
Nalenne parried one wampa’s swing and coughed. “Right. I mean, yes, carry on, overgrown rodents!”
“My lord,” yelled Quinn indignantly.
“Oh, like you need the help.”
The beasts were savage and not a one was smart enough to die on the first four or five should-havebeen-fatal wounds, but eventually Nalenne ran out of targets. The smell of blood and saber-scorched fur
was heavy in the confines of the cave. It was good.
She cast off her outer coat and flopped down on the hard-packed floor. Cold, beautifully cold. Probably
deadly with a few hours’ exposure, but for now the ice was the finest feeling imaginable against her
feverish skin.
She opened her eyes to see Vette leaning over her. “You’re kind of weird, you know that?” said the
Twi’lek.
“Bah. I bet Broonmark likes ice-lounging. He understands me.”
The Talz shuffled to her side and looked down at her. “No, Sith clan is weird,” he blorped.
45. In which Quinn cleans house
A detailed maintenance run
May not sound like a whole lot of fun.
To freshen the paint
With same-color restraint
Is a drag. But it has to be done.
“Hey, Vette?”
“Yeah?”
“Where’s Quinn?”
Vette looked up from the coffee table console. “How should I know?”
“Well, he lives on the bridge. You’re sitting by the passage to the bridge. Stands to reason.”
“The man walks through walls. Me sitting by a doorway gives me zero special insight.”
“Both he and 2V are gone.”
“Wow, it’s like a dream come true.”
“Stop that. I need to talk to him.”
The crew quarters were quiet – though in fairness, Nalenne was never inclined to listen too closely when
Pierce’s door was closed – and the cargo hold had only Broonmark, messing once again with biochemical
compounds at the workbench. Adrenals, most likely. Mixing combat adrenals was his second favorite
pastime, after combat.
The mess, the conference room, the med bay, all were quite empty. Nalenne made her way to the
engine room and, on a sudden impulse, opened the door very quietly, intending to watch and wait.
Ghost-Quinn and 2V-R8 were kneeling by one of the sublight fuel injectors. 2V had an assortment of
tools and bottles lined up neatly by his side, and he was currently working at some fine detail of the
injector with a tool Nalenne couldn’t quite make out. He was chattering in a bizarre alternation between
his “relevant, permitted-by-Quinn’s-modifications speech” mode and his “original programming,
volume-suppressed” mode (*).
“Some scoring here, sir, and it’s absolutely terrible how much of this has been allowed to wear away, we should probably adjust
the turn rod to prevent that rubbing during high-dynamic maneuvers. Master won’t like this unsightly mess at all”
“Right you are. While we're at it we should replace the whole rod. Consider diatium alloy this time, with
neutronium plating only on the contact. It will be much lighter overall. I imagine it could shave three
tenths of a gram off this ship’s mass.” They were quiet for a moment while 2V worked. Quinn, out of
some sort of corporeal habit, pushed his hands back through his hair. And then he smiled. “Good.
There’s more scoring on this side, not more than two square centimeters, once you’re finished over
there. Good. I believe we could get another point oh oh oh eight percent efficiency out of this.”
2V’s servos whirred with happiness. “I believe you’re right, sir”
46. In which Nalenne practices and Pierce helps
A man with a suitable blaster
Can take any veteran master.
A saber won’t save
Anyone, howe’er brave,
As long as the man fires faster.
A long stretch of the Helicarrier’s hangar was cleared, and Pierce had his blaster rifle out. Nalenne stood
at the ready with her lightsaber. She nodded. He opened fire.
Ghost-Quinn approached while Nalenne was busily deflecting the stream of blaster bolts. Up, down, side
to side, ran the shots, but mostly up. The captain stood by Pierce and folded his arms over his chest,
waiting for the barrage to end so he could speak.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to shoot Nalenne in the face,” said Pierce. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”
“It’s practice, Quinn,” added Nalenne. “I told him to.”
“Those can’t be live blaster bolts.”
“Don’t use any other kind, captain.”
Broonmark, standing off to one side, chortled.
“And yet he’s still breathing. This is what I’m talking about when I say you give preferential treatment,
my lord.”
“Hey, shoot again,” said Nalenne. Pierce did so. Nalenne deftly turned and maneuvered to deflect the
next four bolts directly through Quinn. “Look at that, eh?”
“I like it. Should’ve started that practice a long time ago,” said Pierce.
“This whole thing is fine, Quinn,” said Nalenne. “I asked him for it. And we do have a safeword.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. It’s something like ‘MRF ARG MY FACE.’”
Both Broonmark and Pierce snickered.
“Lieutenant, have you for one moment considered the consequences of successfully shooting the
Emperor’s Wrath?”
“I expect she’ll get mad, scream a bit, and then we’ll go clean up at the nearest kolto facility.”
“And if she dies?”
“Someone’s badly lacking in faith here.”
“Oh? You yourself once said you were confident you could kill her.” (*)
“Walking up and shooting her wasn’t the idea for that, idiot. She can handle this, no problem.”
“C’mon, do it again,” urged Nalenne.
Pierce shrugged at Quinn and hefted his rifle. “Can’t disobey orders, now can I?”
iamthehoyden: Yudriss!! I squeed when he came on scene
Loves him! And Pierce! Loves him!
“Yeah. It’s something like ‘MRF ARG MY FACE.’”
kabeone: I laughed so hard at this. I can imagine Quinn is crossing his arms thinking "That's too many
syllables for a safe word!"
I can imagine Quinn is crossing his arms thinking "That's too many syllables for a safe word!"
bright_ephemera: I can see Quinn's situational analysis now:
Pros:
- At least she's using a safeword
- And at least it isn't the one she and I used
Cons:
- It's four syllables long, for stars' sake, that isn't safe at all
- She's doing something with Pierce that requires a safeword
- And they're both really enjoying it
- How come she never let me do that, anyway?
- I hate my unlife
- This means I have to find a way to portray the scenario as bad for the Empire so I can put a stop to it.
Happily for him, "taking potshots at the Emperor's Wrath" is already an obvious bad thing for the
Empire! Quinn's disapproval is clearly justified and, as always, has nothing to do with his personal issues.
That's what I love about you, Quinn. You're my steadfast-denial-of-conflicts-of-interest man.
Reminds me of something I neglected to respond to a few pages back:
Also, I think Quinn is having a bad case of blue balls, as well as feeling a little rejected that he got killed
and Jaesa didn't. *shrug*
Serves him right. Now he's as sexless as he always pretended to be. I think it's time to admit that this
entire series is just one long elaborate revenge fic.
Serves him right. Now he's as sexless as he always pretended to be. I think it's time to admit that this
entire series is just one long elaborate revenge fic.
kabeone: I see no problems here
loving it!
iamthehoyden: Lol, I figured it was all about putting the screws to Quinn when I translated that line in
your sig.
bright_ephemera’s signature at the time: Ceterum autem censeo, Malavai esse delendam.
47. In which Nalenne and Quinn review the paperwork
A lawyer on rules contentious
May seem pretty loud and pretentious.
But if you’re counting chads,
You’ll find yourself glad
To have someone so conscientious.
“My lord?”
Nalenne looked up from the latest Duranium Man issue to see ghost-Quinn standing before her. “What
do you want?”
“The Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Diplomatic Service continue to stonewall us on questions about
Voss. The Empire appears to have made no progress in restoring relations. It seems evident that we will
not be able to access the planet and our wedding setting, or any associated records, for some time.”
“Ugh. I guess so. You’re good to do the work thing until then, though, right?”
Silence.
“Quinn?”
“I am attempting to say that this is more…that this is…m-more imp-portant…this…”
“Something’s more important than work?”
“Thank you. It’s physically difficult to form those words.”
“Wow. That you’re even thinking it…” Nalenne set her datapad aside. “I don’t need you freaking out on
me. Did you have some plan for not-Voss efforts?”
“I thought we might seek insight in the standard 621.b vows, even if we don’t have precise records on
how we customized them.”
“Oh. Sure. Dwelling on broken promises with you is precisely my idea of fun.”
“I could return to ‘freaking out’ if you consider that more enjoyable to watch.”
“When you put it that way, it could be pretty funny…okay stop looking at me like that.” She sat up
straight, patted the couch beside her, pulled an end table around in front of them, and activated the
built-in console.
“Six-two-one-b.” Nalenne brought up the appropriate record. “You think some weird Voss effect
interfered with what we were saying?”
“Perhaps. Overseer Ragate placed peculiar emphasis on how our vows were ’heard’ and how that holds
me here now.” Quinn sat down beside Nalenne and scanned the console, reading and probably fully
processing the contents in a quarter of a second flat. “It was simple. ‘I take you to be my wife, to have
and to hold from this day forward,’”
“No end condition: bad,” said Nalenne.
“’For better or for worse’ – we certainly stuck together through a great deal of both.”
“’For richer, for poorer’ – ha! Poorer. That’s cute.”
“You never failed to earn a comfortable living. ‘In sickness and in health’ – no violations there.”
“You left me behind for close to a week when I was laid up with Rodian flu.”
“Those rebels weren’t going to crush themselves. Besides, you got better. My presence would not have
accelerated that.”
“Abandonment. In sickness. Your fault.”
Quinn frowned. “’To love and to cherish,’ which you completely discarded.”
“I cherished the hell out of you!”
“It turned out to be conditional, Nalenne.”
“Conditional on you not trying to kill me? Yes, yes it was. I make no apologies there. I don’t think that
counts as breaking the vow.”
“Fine. We’ll continue. ‘To honor and obey,’ for my part.”
Nalenne raised her eyebrows. “Who’s conditional now, smarty-pants?”
“You never ordered me not to kill you. I did obey all your orders.”
“You are a vile rules lawyer and I hate you.”
“Yes, yes. Now, after you promised that love and cherishing part that you were so vehemently asserting
thirty seconds ago, you added something sentimental, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. Um, something like ‘where you go, I will go, and where you stay, I will stay,’ which once again
failed to have an end condition. But I think we’ve been following it pretty well. ‘Your people will be my
people’. That’s on you.”
“How’s that?”
“You went all Baras-people.”
“I was allied with Baras long before you defected to those Servants. You were the one splitting people.”
“Hmph. I guess. Not that it really matters, right? We’re back on the same team. So, ‘My law will be your
law.’ You went pretty well Sith code, all things considered.”
“It’s good of you to say so,” said Quinn. “Wait, we missed a part in the standard. ‘From this day forward
until death takes us both.’ That’s imprecise, isn’t it? It might have been wiser to say ‘until death takes
one of us.’”
“I don’t imagine the guys who wrote it thought they needed to pick that particular nit.”
“It becomes significant when otherworldly powers start dipping into contract law.”
“So that’s our end condition? You think we both have to be dead for your ghostliness to go away?”
“It’s possible.”
“That’s not okay. You think going back to serve divorce papers at the same spot might fix it?”
“That seems improbable, but no more improbable than the rest of this disaster.”
“Great.” Nalenne sighed and buried her face in her hands. “We probably shouldn’t have planned all this
in such a hurry.”
“You were distracted at the time. Scrambling to gain the Emperor’s favor while evading Baras’s murder
attempts.”
“Right, and you were a little preoccupied with planning out one of said murder attempts. Work, you
know? Getting the ceremony done on Voss was just the fastest thing to do.”
“In retrospect I should have focused my efforts differently.”
“This just occurs to you now?”
He ignored her. “It is doubly important that we reach Voss, one way or another. Someone there must
understand the nature of whatever was applying our vows so…concretely.”
“Quinn, I depended on you to get the paperwork right. If you had to pick one form to screw up, couldn’t
it have been one of our expense reports?”
Crossover: Smuggler
48. In which Nalenne finds a smuggler (I/II)
A Smuggler’s lifestyle’s coarse,
Each day she fast-talks herself hoarse.
A customs disaster
With contraband blasters
Is pretty much par for the course.
There were elements other than Imperial ones that could be used in Nalenne’s search for a way onto
Voss and the wedding records or spiritual answers thereat. And so, after a few days’ sniffing the
holonews for proper information, Nalenne made an unannounced approach to an old converted
dreadnaught now called Port Nowhere.
She managed hangar access, but the staff only pressurized the hangar so they could send in two dozen
gunmen. Nalenne strode off the ship with ghost-Quinn and Jaesa flanking her.
The guards’ leader was a scrawny Rattataki faded well into middle age. “My lord,” he said with a very
small bow. “What brings you here?”
“I wanted to talk to your leader. Nic, I believe?”
His pale eyes flicked over her, her companions, her ship. “I do not appear to be in a position to argue.
Stand down, ladies, gentlemen. No one has to die today, I trust.”
“Well, if you’re going to take the fun out of it…” But she liked the cultured sound of him, not to mention
the quiet confidence. “Lead on.”
He smiled thinly. “Please, come with me.”
*
“What is that?” said a dark-skinned dark-haired woman, warily watching Nalenne’s approach from
where she reclined on her couch. Next to her was a low sabacc table, and across the way was a pretty
brunette.
The Rattataki bowed. “The Sith asked to speak with you. I thought it inadvisable to put our people in her
way.”
“Try calling first next time, ‘kay, Ivory? The dark-skinned woman swung her knee-high boots off the
couch and stood, tugging to straighten the sleeves of her plain brown jacket. “I don’t appreciate being
stormed in on.”
“I’m not here for your appreciation,” Nalenne told her.
Something moved behind them. Quinn turned first, but Nalenne was right after him: a scruffy-looking
Mon Calamari stood in the doorway, brandishing a lightsaber hilt the wrong way up.
“You’ll want to keep things polite here,” squelched the Mon Calamari. “I’m a Jedi.”
Nalenne looked him over. He was all leather jacket and awkwardness. “A Jedi, huh? And I’m the
treasurer of the Coruscant Senate,” she said.
“Really? Wow! I didn’t know they hired Sith!”
The dark-skinned woman spoke. “Guss, it’s okay. But you, Sith…do I get an introduction? I’m Captain
Nic.” She strode right up to offer Nalenne her hand.
Nalenne looked at it. “I am Darth Nalenne, the Emperor’s Wrath.”
“Kick*** title! I like it.” There was a significant element of ‘must keep talking and conduct damage
control’ running in that voice. “Is the Emperor, uh, wrathful at anything around here lately? ‘Cause I’ve
been on good behavior. Promise.”
“I just need to get some people from point A to point B. It’s a difficult point B, but I heard that if
anybody could do it, it would be you.”
“Name it and I’ll thread a starship in there before you can say ‘That doesn’t seem physically possible.’”
Before Nalenne could open her mouth, somebody else came running in. Nalenne turned, again, to see a
well-built youth in some strange nonuniform kind of soldier-esque armor. He had a blaster rifle out.
Nalenne waved and it flew from his hands, across the room, to break against the opposite wall.
“Captain, is there a way you could get your friends to all stop freaking out at once?”
“My lord?” said Captain Quinn, looking confused.
“Relax, Corso,” said Captain Nic. “The Emperor’s Wrath here was just telling me about a job, which is
going to be very profitable and is not going to involve you getting yourself killed by running off halfcocked at Sith Lords.”
The youth looked at Nalenne with the most criminally adorable brown eyes she had ever seen, overlaid
with a heavy helping of mistrust. “Then I guess we’d better hear the job,” he said.
“Voss.”
The smuggler’s face fell. “Ah. Well, now, see, that’s a bit of a problem. I…don’t do Voss.”
“’Don’t do’? Are you telling me there exists a planet that has nothing of economic interest to you or your
empire?”
Nic exchanged uneasy looks with Corso. “There was some legal action, and things, and it just got really
really awkward. I’m not welcome back there.”
“And your people?”
“I don’t think anyone else I’ve ever met could fly you in safely.”
“Even I wouldn’t want to try that run now,” said the brunette at the sabacc table.
“Because Voss is closed off and firing on everyone.” Nalenne crossed her arms. “Would that have
anything to do with the aforementioned legal action you’re so obviously terrified of?”
“What? No! That’s ridiculous! Ha ha! Why would my misdemeanors, not that I’m saying there are any,
have any bearing on Voss deciding it’s going to kill all outsiders who get close?”
“Nic?” said Corso. “Is there something else we need to talk about?”
49. In which Nalenne argues the job with a smuggler (II/II)
This and the preceding entry contain Act 3 and endgame Smuggler spoilers.
I’m really, really sorry for all the N-names in this story. It’s bad mnemonic practice, but apparently it’s
one of my brain’s favorite sounds and my in-game characters reflect that. Hence Niselle, Nalenne,
Nic…Nalang, who if she ever comes up in this story will have a different name…yeah.
A Mon Calamari named Guss
Was harshly thrown under the bus.
But lucky for him,
A smuggler’s whim
Made him once and for all one of us.
“Nic?” said Corso. “Is there something else we need to talk about?”
“No,” said Nic.
“Nah,” said the Mon Calamari. “There was just the handling Gormak monstrosities and then seducing
her honores. Nothing that would ruin foreign relations…uh, foreign the other kind of relations.”
“Guss….” said Nic.
“I knew it,” said Corso. “I knew it! You told me the ‘corrupting an honores’ charge was about him giving
security the runaround while you cleared your name of the false accusations! But you did sleep with
him!”
“Oops,” said Guss.
“Oh, blast,” said the brunette.
“I am trying to detect a trace of reliability or competence in these people, master,” whispered Jaesa,
“but…they are what you see.”
“I can’t believe it,” said Corso.
Nic gestured broadly. “We were apart, remember? Split? You were working out your frustrations on
Hoth?”
“When you came back, I thought you were done lying to me!”
“I was! I haven’t lied to you about almost anything since then. Was I supposed to confess the full back
catalog of my transgressions, too? Because, honey, we don’t have that kind of spare time.”
“Cool your jets, Nic,” said the brunette.
“Stuff it, Risha,” said Nic.
Nalenne waved. “Captain. I’m not finished here. You can fly me in or I can just kill everyone here.
Starting with the boy.”
Nic’s head snapped to face Nalenne and, just like that, her blasters were out and aimed. “No.”
“Fly me to Voss.”
Corso stepped in and cut his hand across the space between them. “You’re not putting the captain in
that kind of danger,” he said.
Nalenne snorted. Then she drew, activated, and swung her saber to within an inch of the guy’s nose.
“I’m not, am I?”
He didn’t shrink back. “No.” Only the edges of her Force awareness showed her his fear. “You’re not.”
She lowered her saber. “They breed ‘em stupid where you’re from, I see. That’s actually kind of
charming.”
Nic holstered her blasters and shook her head. “It’s okay, Corso. It’s okay. Go on down to the
storehouse, all right? Get us some fresh fuel rods?”
“Nic…”
She fixed him with those big dark eyes and nodded, slowly. “It’s okay, love. Go on.”
Nalenne watched him go with some satisfaction. “That’s more like it.” Nic walked up to stand beside
her. “Your man has nerve,” continued Nalenne. “I admire that.”
The smuggler was smiling stupidly in the direction Corso had disappeared in. “Yeah. He’s…you ever look
at a guy and wonder what it is that keeps him with you, after all you’ve put him through?”
“More than you know,” said Nalenne.
“We’re lucky they do stick around.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
Nic gave her a funny look, then shook her head and looked to the Mon Calamari. “Guss, I’m gonna need
you to go warm up the guns and shields, make sure everything’s in order. Don’t want anything going
wrong when you’re operating it under fire.”
Guss opened his mouth and made a vague gagging noise. After a few moments’ struggle he gulped,
hard, and flapped out of the room.
“Wait,” said Nalenne, “he’s your gunner?”
“And navigator. Tricky jobs, but I wouldn’t trust anyone else.”
“That guy actually performs a function on your ship during smuggling runs.”
“Yessir, he does.” Nic nodded with a completely unjustified air of confidence.
“And he’ll be…?”
“Copiloting when I make the deadliest run in the known galaxy? You bet.”
Ghost-Quinn somehow sucked in an audible breath. Jaesa shifted and hugged herself.
“I…may go evaluate options elsewhere,” said Nalenne, “before I commit to anything.”
“You sure?” said Nic. “Guss has been off the juice for three days straight, if we hurry he just may hold
out long enough to be sober when we lift off.”
“I am suddenly very sure.” Nalenne started edging toward the door. “Nice talking to you, captain.”
The quickly stifled sound she heard behind her as she left could not possibly have been a laugh.
Staying Busy
50. In which Vette speaks her mind to Quinn
Twi’lek plus captain won’t work,
Their qualities mutually irk.
She cannot abide
His disciplined side…
Or maybe he’s that big a jerk.
“Quinn. I have a serious question for you.”
“I very much doubt that.”
Vette perched on the pilot’s chair and turned sideways to face Quinn at his bridge console. “I’m sure
you’ve noticed my very favorite fashion statement, the slave collar.”
“Yes, I always thought it suits you.”
“Cute, Quinny, real cute. So, Nalenne was never one to use it much, but then a couple of months after
you come on board the remote disappears entirely.”
He didn’t look up from the scrolling console screen. “So I recall you saying, nonstop, for months.”
“Meaning that she can’t punish me, true, but she also can’t free me. And a wandering collared Twi’lek
can’t get far.”
“Is there a point in all this?”
“Just that, if a really malicious person were to weigh keeping me around, knowing I want freedom more
than anything and knowing that the remote release is my only hope for it, said person might quietly
dispose of the remote.”
“And I ask again, Vette. Is there a point in all this?”
“Did you take the remote?”
“That’s absurd.”
“Destroy it? Lose it? Throw it away? Keep it on file, so after you murdered Nalenne you could have some
fun breaking me in service to Baras?”
“If you think I would discard the only tool that could have gotten you out of my life, you profoundly
underestimate my feelings for you.” He kept his eyes on the screen. “Now leave. I have work to do.”
“Oh, right, your eternal work! And how’s that going?”
“Very successfully.”
“That’s great. It’s interesting that you’re still completely obsessed with a system that’s already chewed
you up and spit you out once. And that the one person who was ever willing to give you more – well, she
did give you more. Her whole original reign of terror was one long love letter you never bothered to
read. The one person who was ever willing to give you more, you stabbed in the back.”
“Do you actually lie awake at night composing these screeds?”
“I ad lib. You give me so much to work with.”
“You know what the Wrath’s biggest mistake was? Giving you permission to talk.”
“I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
He still frowned at the console. “I don’t see why you’re so eager to defend your owner.”
“I do it because even she is better than you. And, honestly, she’s kind of incompetent as a slave owner.
I’ve finagled it so I haven’t actually done any housework in weeks.”
“Noted for my report to the Wrath.”
“You….” Vette ground her teeth for a moment. “Hmph. Report. What, do you put it on official letterhead
before you carry it into the other room?” She eyed the scrolling console for a moment. “You’re actually
completely happy where you are. Aren’t you. No friends, no hobbies. Nothing can touch you, nobody
talks to you – “
“I regret to say that that statement is manifestly false.”
“- you can just sit here crunching numbers all day and all night for organizations that don’t even
acknowledge you exist. Like a droid that never needs maintenance. This must be your fondest dream.”
“My fondest dreams never involved carping Twi’leks.”
“Stars. Either she needs to stop caring or you need to die. I’ve been working on the first one for months
with no luck, so…something’s gotta give.” She hopped to her feet and stretched. “Anyway, I’m due for a
good stiff drink. Then I figure I’ll go outside, enjoy the warm sun, soft breeze, ridiculously
oversweetened ice cream. Play around with my friends - because I have those, unlike some people maybe meet some cute guy for some quick ‘n’ dirty makeouts – “
“Vette, that’s disgusting.”
“Maybe. But I’ll be loving every minute of it.” She rapped her knuckles on Quinn’s console. “Have a nice
day, Quinny. Enjoy being alone.”
51. In which Broonmark cheers Nalenne up
When facing domestic contention,
A Talz may resort to invention.
While some may conclude
His methods are crude,
He does have the best of intentions.
Broonmark walked up to the reading-nook couch and clicked to get Nalenne’s attention. “Sith clan kill
today?”
“Um. Maybe later. I’m feeling kind of tired out.”
“Sith clan has had much tired lately.”
“Yeah. It’s nothing, I’ll be back up to speed after a good night’s sleep.”
Broonmark bubbled thoughtfully for a few seconds. “So Sith clan says.” He walked away. Nalenne kept
staring at her Captain Kaas book.
A few moments later Broonmark was back. “Sith clan. We have found mandoviol musician clan will like.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Mandoviol clan plays many things with similar harmonic inspirations to Green Nebula and other
bands Sith clan likes. Furthermore mandoviol clan has classical training in Nautolan traditions that
underlie many of Sith clan’s favorite songs.”
“Uh…cool. Let’s have a listen.”
Broonmark twisted, plucked a small black-haired human off the floor behind him, and thrust the little
man in Nalenne’s direction. “Here.”
“You brought me a musician?”
“Yes.”
“Ee,” whimpered the little human.
“Did you even ask him first?”
“Mandoviol clan does not speak Talz. But they hardly resisted at all.”
“P-please don’t k-k-kill me, my lord,” stammered the human.
“Broonmark…”
“Sith clan has rough days. Many clan fights. Even killing does not comfort, no matter how much we kill.
So we find other nice things. Mandoviol clan will play.” Broonmark produced a mandoviol case and
shoved it into the trembling man’s hands.
Nalenne felt a little obligated to make up for her friend. “Um, hi. I’m Nalenne, this is Broonmark, and
you should play a song.”
“Please d-don’t kill me.”
“Relax. Come on, have a seat on the other couch.” Nalenne tried gently coaxing. Broonmark opted to
scoop the man up, carry him over, and dump him on the seat.
“Now play,” blipped Broonmark.
So he did.
The man was pretty good, Nalenne couldn’t deny that. In fact, she just closed her eyes, let her head fall
back, and listened for a while. It was nice. It was really nice.
After some time the music stopped, for some reason. “P-please don’t k-kill me,” the musician repeated.
She looked over to see that he was rubbing and stretching his fingers, looking half desperate.
“Relax. You’re in the fortunate position of having just put me in a good mood through a very nice
concert. I’m almost certainly not going to kill you now.”
“P-please don’t,” he said in a very small voice.
“And just so you know, the kidnapping wasn’t my idea. Broonmark meant well. For me, anyway, I don’t
think he cares if you live or die. Hey, do you have any albums out?”
“D-don’t kill me.”
“Is that the entire extent of your vocabulary?”
Broonmark growled in sympathetic annoyance.
“please don’t kill me”
“Fine, don’t answer, then. I like your sound, anyway. Send any albums you do have along once you get
home, would you?”
The human gasped and shuddered a little bit. “Y-you’re not going to keep me enslaved?”
“Nah, my current slave is high-maintenance enough. I don’t think I could handle a second.”
“C-c-can I go?”
“Tasty though your terror is, yeah, you probably should. I’ve got places to be pretty soon. People to kill.”
“P-please don’t – “
“Yeah, I know.” She stood up and beckoned Broonmark to come with her. “Come on.”
She sent the musician on his way and let the ship retract the ramp again. As soon as the door was shut,
Nalenne turned to Broonmark, jumped up, and hugged him.
“You’re the best.”
Broonmark hugged her back. “Sith clan should feel well enough to enjoy killing.”
52. In which Quinn first extends an olive branch
A vessel of starship class A
Has useful transponders, they say.
- Of course, that’s a ruse,
Come aboard and you’ll lose.
But you knew that part anyway.
“My lord.”
“What?” Nalenne, having just finished a Talz lesson with Broonmark, tucked away her translation pad
and looked questioningly at Quinn.
“I’ve located something that may be of interest to you and taken the liberty of having it delivered.”
“From you, I can’t even begin to guess what that might be.”
He beckoned her back into the cargo bay. “Czerka recently developed a novel storage and preservation
system. You’ll recall that the current standard plastiform packaging doesn’t store well with certain comic
book runs.”
“Yeah. There were some different inking and binding compounds Spectacle Comics had to use during
the last war because of supply issues. Everyone knows those runs are just going to deteriorate faster,
even in plastiform.” She narrowed her eyes. “I just didn’t know you knew that.”
“I do pay attention when you talk.”
“Yeah, but I always thought you only retained the irrelevant parts long enough to come up with angry
one-off criticisms.”
“To return to the Czerka packets,” he said stiffly, “they’re supposed to be tremendously stable. Your
Captain Kaas collection from those years will do much better sealed within them.”
“I guess so, yeah.”
“With your permission I’ll have 2V repackage them within the week.”
“Ah ah ah, I’ll do that myself. 2V doesn’t touch Captain Kaas. Or Scarlet Nexu, for that matter.”
Quinn grimaced. “I wasn’t going to mention Scarlet Nexu.”
“I know you weren’t. Still…I’ll wrap those up. Thanks for finding this.” Her smile faded. She tilted her
head. “And why exactly did you do this?”
“My lord?”
“When you do non-professional nice things, or even just talk like a normal person, there’s always a
purpose. So what’s the play, captain? If you don’t say it up front I assume it must be trouble.”
“I have no intention of causing trouble, my lord.”
“I can think of one glaring counterexample to that claim.”
Quinn scowled. “You really enjoy bringing that up, don’t you.”
“Can’t help it. The betrayal was an awfully memorable cap to all the nice things you ever did for me. So,
you’re being nice without obvious motivation now, I assume you’re winding up for something equally
awful.”
“Would you stop harping on that incident! Is that all you ever think about?”
“Is there something else I’m supposed to think about when I look at you?”
“I don’t see why you’re so bitter. You got the better of the engagement by far.”
“Oh, yeah, give me the resentful look. How is it that you try to kill me and then you’re always the one
playing the victim card for it?”
“One of us still has a pulse, Nalenne, and it isn’t me.” Quinn rubbed his temples, then made an impatient
slashing motion with his hand. “This isn’t what I came here for. I….” He paused, considered. Visibly
clicked into his sharp calculation mode. “I meant to tell you that I have located a cell of anti-Sith rebels
several parsecs spinward of Dromund Kaas. I thought we might go destroy them before they get any
ideas.”
Nalenne’s irritation vanished. “Oh, yeah, that sounds fun. Rebels are always entertaining.” Her eyes lit
up. “Are you going to do your abandon-hope, Empire-will-inevitably-win monologue? I thought your
latest version was really good.”
“It did go over well, didn’t it?”
“Excellent stuff, watching the hope in their eyes die. Only you could make me look forward to attempts
at surrender and conversation.”
He studied her face. “My lord, I must ask. Do you have any comprehension, whatsoever, of the fact that
we were fighting fifteen seconds ago?”
“Well…yeah, sure. But then you brought up something that makes sense for you.” She considered.
“You’re a jerk, and I found out the hard way I’ll never connect with you like I do with my family and
friends, and I won’t put my life on the line trying. But I will say, your combat tips are always gold. I
appreciate the fights you throw my way.”
“And that’s how it’s to be?” he said, very calmly.
“Well…yeah.” A longer pause. “Don’t make this weird.”
Before Quinn could reply, Broonmark shuffled back into the cargo hold, messily chewing the last of
some snack. He walked right through Quinn en route to the couch.
Nalenne fixed her eyes on the line where the Talz had passed through the captain. “…er. Don’t make this
weird-er.”
Nalenne hurried out one way and Quinn left by another, leaving Broonmark to wonder about the Czerka
box lying forgotten on the cargo bay floor.
53. In which we see an average day in the life of the Wrath
A villainous schedule’s packed
With evil on wickedness stacked.
The average day
Points a clear, nasty way:
The plan? To leave nothing intact.
6:00 – Sleep. What the hell else would anybody be doing at that hour?
10:00 – Breakfast. Usually cereal with a side of ice cream, and coffee poured into the ice cream. Jaesa
still considers this process yucky and unnatural. Jaesa is stupid and wrong.
10:05 – Get pestered by Quinn over the day’s work. Swear at Servant One, Servant Two, and Quinn for
being annoying control freaks.
10:11 – Run out of swears for the time being. Agree to go kill stuff.
10:12 – Finish breakfast, which at this point has finished melting, which is Quinn’s fault.
10:30 – Usually in hyperspace by now, en route to the day’s rampage location. Read comic books or
shoot the breeze with the crew.
11:00 – Kill everybody in sight. Alternately, capture people alive as per orders while swearing at Servant
One, Servant Two, and Quinn for being spoilsports.
12:30 – Lunch break. Talk loudly to Vette and/or Jaesa to drown out the sound of Quinn babbling about
the next mission. Consider finding a spiritual muzzle for Quinn.
1:00 – Kill everybody in sight. Terrorize the countryside, if appropriate. Screw capturing people alive; let
Quinn suppress swears while killing continues. High-five Broonmark and Pierce, a lot.
4:30 – Run out of things to kill. Talk or bludgeon Broonmark down from his blood frenzy. Figure out
where to go for supper.
5:00 – Hot shower. Let 2V-R8 worry about getting the bloodstains out of the day’s outfit.
6:00 – Supper. Accompany the normal people to a good restaurant if there’s one within an easy
hyperspace jump; otherwise, rations and ice cream and swearing at Servant One, Servant Two, and
Quinn for selecting remote mission locations.
7:00 – Browse the latest holonet news, then pick a comic book or holovid for the evening. Share with
Jaesa if it has a character she likes. Share with Vette if it’s one of those alien comedies she enjoys so
much. Share with Pierce if it’s one of the Czerka Weapons Division-sponsored comic book issues that are
basically thinly veiled product placement and prototype teasers. Share with Broonmark if there are few
words and many ultraviolent action scenes. Never share with Quinn.
11:00 – Secretly muck around with the mandoviol for a few minutes. Get annoyed that it doesn’t sound
amazing. Go back to comic books or, alternately, a Talz lesson and companionable chat with Broonmark.
12:30 – Get ready for bed.
12:35 – Remember how nice it was to have Quinn physically around.
12:35:05 – Snap out of it.
12:40 – Sleep.
54. In which we reaffirm heroic opinions
Some subjects have prominent stamps
Which in turn make for polarized camps.
Emotions run high,
For the fans would all die
Before saying they picked the wrong champs.
Jaesa set down her coffee and gave Nalenne a strangely intense look. “Favorite Spectacle hero. Go.”
“Duranium Man. No question.”
Pierce snorted.
Nalenne eyed him with her best hauteur. “What was that, Lieutenant?”
“That was the complete absence of surprise, milord. Ninety per cent of the women I’ve met who know
what comic books are choose Duranium Man.”
“Nerdiness reaching critical levels,” said Vette. “I’m outta here.”
Pierce shook his head. "For my money, I always preferred the Remarkable Brute."
“Ha! You would,” said Nalenne. “Duranium Man has slightly more finesse."
"Didn't he level half of Kaas City in the last issue you showed me?"
"...yeah, but he used smart missiles."
"I just don't see the appeal. Look at the Brute. An unstoppable killing force with an advanced degree in
astrophysics, and he becomes some kind of mascot or just a running gag in every hero team. Change the
name, cut his power by 99% and hand him some shiny armor, and suddenly he's got a female fan club
ten trillion strong."
"It's not just Duranium Man's armor,” said Nalenne. “Or the smarts. Or the looks. Or the fact that he's
got enough money to buy the Core Worlds and still pay off his own bar tab."
"So what's that leave him?"
"It's the attitude, lieutenant. The swagger. Here's a guy who isn't intimidated by anybody or anything,
because he knows that no matter what happens he's got the power or the connections or the sheer
nerve to survive and win. He's always got an angle to play. He knows it. And that confidence is sexy. He
could walk right up to a Sith Lord and give as good as he gets without so much as blinking."
Pierce didn't so much as blink. "And that's attractive," he said dryly.
"Irresistably so."
"Good to know you can recognize your type."
Jaesa had been slowly thinking something through. “The trouble with the Brute is, what’s the use of all
that strength if you lack the discipline to control it? How can you admire that?”
Pierce answered Jaesa, but he was looking at Nalenne. “You tell me. Gets the job done most of the time,
I’d say.”
Quinn shook his head. “Duranium Man has every imaginable tactical advantage over the Brute, but
Captain Kaas surpasses them both. He has all the necessary cunning, the resources, the keen sense for
what tool to use in what situation. And he has the discipline Duranium Man lacks. Every time he crushes
the forces of mercy and freedom, he does it with all the style of a true Imperial hero.”
“Spoken like the boy who probably wished for nothing but Captain Kaas’s military enhancements every
birthday,” said Pierce.
“So, Jaesa, your turn,” said Nalenne.
“You know I like Professor X. You know, from the X-Folk.”
“He’s not a hero, dear.”
“He is to Jedi readers.”
“He’s pathetic. ‘Woo, I can read minds and lecture you on the virtues of a doomed effort to use goodwill
and compassion to equalize a fundamentally unequal galaxy.’ There’s a reason Forcito and the other
Unbowed cream him in every issue.”
“You always say that. But Professor X never gives up on his ideals, and that’s something to aspire to.”
“He picked some sorry ideals,” said Pierce. “You do know that if you put that lot in a room, the Brute
wins. Every time.”
Quinn’s lip curled. “That depends entirely on how quickly Captain Kaas can call in his fire support.”
Pierce jabbed at Quinn’s immaterial face and sneered. “You would know, eh, slowpoke?”
55. In which a distraction tactic is considered
When setups just can’t seem to budge,
Let colleagues and friends be the judge.
A push just might go
Where kismet’s too slow:
At times all it needs is a nudge.
Jaesa approached Nalenne in her quarters. “Master. I have a strictly hypothetical question for you. You
don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to. But if things were different…I mean, if you had never met
Quinn…do you think you ever could’ve hit it off with Pierce?”
Vette cornered Pierce in the engine room. “Quick question. Would you do Nalenne?”
“Jaesa, that’s an…unusual question. I thought you were solidly on Team Quinn.”
“I was just wondering about what-ifs.”
“Vette put you up to this, didn’t she. Very well, I’ll indulge you.”
Pierce regarded Vette with eyes like highly amused rainclouds. “When you play with fire you don’t go
halfway, do you? Hypothetically speaking, I’ll play along.”
“It’s just that Pierce does complement your style really well. And I know you like him.”
“I like him just fine. Whether he likes me is a different question. He’s crazy enough to treat me as an
equal, and I would never try to override that if he’s not into me.”
“I like her just fine. But I’m not exactly the long-term type. Not like that. And she tends to get attached.”
Pierce looked toward the bridge. “Excessively attached.”
“I don’t think I would want to stay with him like that. We work well as is. But….”
“But?” prompted Jaesa.
“Even if I had no intention of starting anything, I kind of wish he had come on to me. Just the once.
Enough to register that I’m attractive, you know? His opinion matters to me. Is that tribute too much to
ask?”
“But she could stand to make the snubbing a hair less obvious. I don’t think she fully appreciates the fact
that she uses my body almost to its limits – almost – every day. Even if she had no intention of starting
anything, it wouldn’t kill her to acknowledge that that’s at least as hot as sitting on the bridge thinking.”
“Still,” said Nalenne. “Another big STOMP HERE sign on my heart? Not me.”
“Still,” said Pierce. “Another moth to that more-than-a-little lethal flame? Not me.”
Vette gestured at nothing in particular. “It’s just that I’d love to get her unstuck on you-know-who,” she
said.
“Vette, I’m a capable man, but even I couldn’t bang that much crazy out of a woman. Things are better
as is.”
“It’s just that the two of you are unstoppable, master.”
“Sometimes ‘unstoppable’ just ain’t enough.” Nalenne laughed, a little bitterly. “No, things are better as
is.”
“But be honest, Pierce. In a consequence-free environment you would hit that.”
“Sure. Wouldn’t you?”
“…I don’t even know what to say to that.”
“Ask a loaded question, Vette, don’t expect me to play nice.”
“I think I’m done with this line of inquiry.”
“Thought so.”
Ashlian: ROFLMAO! I never thought I'd see Pierce turning down sex. It's a smart man who comes to that
realization, though....
as is.”
Works on so many levels. TY! I am so enjoying this.
56. In which Vette badgers Nalenne to try something new (I/II)
It seems Tatooine never rests
‘Til it asks for all personal quests.
The desert out there
Demands all you can spare
And gives little for passing its tests.
“Hey, Nalenne.”
“We’re out of Corellian whiskey, Vette. I checked. I can’t magically produce more if you ask again.”
“Nah. I was going to offer a bright idea.”
“Oh?”
“Remember your vision questy thingy on Tatooine, with the smelly demon bath and stuff?”
“What is it with you and blood rituals?” (*)
“I get the impression that they’re second only to the holovid industry in providing educational materials.
You think if you went back there you could get a little insight into certain metaphysical disturbances?”
“You would have to come enjoy the stench with me.”
“Hey, it’s not my ex we’re trying to get rid of here.”
“I doubt I’ll get anything useful out of it. My first Tatooine vision turned out to be a long morality
lecture…I mean, it did change my life, but it was basically one long lecture…followed by three seconds of
useful information.”
“Information you couldn’t have gotten any other way, though.”
“Smartly managed aerial surveillance would eventually have gotten it.”
“Information needed. If I come do the sand demon blood thing, will you try for your vision thing?”
Nalenne sighed. “I guess.”
*
Ghost-Quinn looked up at Tatooine’s twin suns without so much as squinting. “This planet is much more
pleasant when one can’t feel the heat or sand.”
“Tell me you’ll at least be smelling the sand demon blood when we get there,” said Vette.
“I don’t believe I will.”
“Darn it.”
“It’s a good thing we found a way to bleed the demon without killing it last time,” added Quinn. “I don’t
know how many are ever alive at a time.”
“I was younger then,” said Nalenne. “A lot less killing-everything-in-sight.”
“Less effective in many respects, as I recall,” said Quinn. “Though the modicum of self-control was an
advantage that you have since lost.”
“I still won, didn’t I?” said Nalenne.
“With my help.” Nalenne and Vette exchanged looks, then glared at Quinn, who shifted uncomfortably.
“Until those later parts, anyway.”
They made their way to the cave way out in the Jundland Wastes where they had first encountered the
sand demon. “You think anybody else would’ve killed it by now?” said Nalenne.
“They better not,” said Vette. “This one’s ours.”
The cave wound deep into the sandstone plateau, but it opened into a broad chamber with a half-open
top. There, standing guard exactly where Nalenne remembered, was the great insectoid sand demon.
“Let’s do this right,” said Nalenne. She activated her saber and leaped.
The monster was actually pretty tough. Nalenne remembered the last time she was here, when she just
faced it down until it passed out…this was harder. Amusing, though. And she did have Vette’s combat
support.
“My lord,” yelled Quinn, “it’s possible we’ll need to reuse this demon in the future.”
“Couldn’t have mentioned this earlier? Blast.” She dodged, slashed, Force pushed. “Got a really potent
sedative?”
“No. I suggest hitting it really hard.”
“Thanks, master strategist.”
“I work with what you give me, my lord.”
With enough head trauma, the sand demon went down, unconscious but still breathing. Right on cue its
outer skin started shifting and cracking.
And there came the blood.
“Come a little closer, Vette,” called Nalenne. “You should enjoy the fruits of your suggestion.”
“Ew,” said Vette. “You're going to owe me new boots.”
“Impressive,” said Quinn. “I think this is the first thing I’ve smelled since I died. It’s faint, but it is just as
vile as I remember.”
The liquid was close to black, and there was an unholy amount of it, flowing over Nalenne’s boots and
sloshing up her calves. She let it come. If the smelly fluid of life was what it took to get answers…well
then, it was a good thing she was the galaxy's foremost expert on spilling it.
57. In which Nalenne talks to herself (II/II)
Some magics spend more than they save;
They’ll give something less than you crave.
These efforts, you see,
Use laws one, two, and three:
At best, you get out what you gave.
Further into the wastes now, to a remote Sand People village. The natives fled at her approach, as they
had done once before. She passed through their shady valley and into a grotto with a green improbable
lake.
Ghost-Quinn and Vette held back at a respectful distance. Nalenne knelt at the edge of the lake and
meditated.
The figure that materialized on the water and walked towards Nalenne was different from last time.
Then, it had been a disfigured woman wrapped in clingy tendrils of black mist. Now it was a fresh-faced
girl wreathed in light. She walked right up and waited for Nalenne to stand.
“You,” said Nalenne’s mirror. “Stars, I didn’t think I was ever getting let up for air again! You unmitigated
bitch!”
Hostile much? “Get mad later. Work now.”
“On bailing you out of your own mess?”
“Our own. Are you sure you’re my good side? You seem a little…”
“You would be pretty mad, too, if you had to ride around watching yourself wreck your life.”
“Very nice, light-side. I don’t recall my base instincts ever being this angry.”
“Your base instincts were watching me operate, and I wasn’t botching our every life decision so royally.
You, on the other hand….what do you want?”
“I’m supposed to ask you whether you know anything, on any subconscious level, about why our vows
are keeping Quinn around, and what we can do about it.”
“I know nothing you don’t, okay? I may have a healthier perspective, but I don’t have a metaphysicalquandary cheat sheet with me.”
“Demonstrating once again that the light is lame and stupid and I was right to convert the last time I was
here.”
“Oh, because the dark side has been so helpful? Let’s take your murder policy. If it weren’t your first
resort, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
At some point Quinn had drifted up to stand at Nalenne’s shoulder. “That may be the first time I have
ever agreed with you, my lord.”
Light-Nalenne gave a shit-eating grin. “Thanks. You look amazing, by the way. This one refuses to say it,
but – “
“Hey! You’re embarrassing me. Quit it.”
“This is the first time your nicer side has gotten to talk in well over a year. I’m taking full advantage of
it.”
“We’re mad at him. Remember?”
“He did what he had to do. We loved that same courage and consistency, didn’t we?”
Quinn studied the opposite wall of the grotto with a curiously intent expression.
“Ex-husband not open for discussion!” said Nalenne. “Since you have nothing to say, we’re done here.”
“Hey,” said light-Nalenne. “Just remember, you don’t have to react to everything by killing it.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t kill him? And how exactly is keeping him this close but untouchable going to help?”
Light-Nalenne made a face. “Oh. I hadn’t really considered that.”
“I don’t do chaste restraint.”
“I don’t think even I would.”
“So you see my problem,” said Nalenne.
“Reincarnation?” suggested light-Nalenne.
“Into what?” She looked over at a very still Quinn. “If you think things are weird now, just imagine
having to see a different face on him.”
“Just consider the possibility while we’re researching, okay? We have a choice. I think we have a chance.
It’s not all about destruction. We can be better than he had to be.”
“’Better’? I did what I did for honor,” said Quinn, giving up on his statue impression.
Light-Nalenne smiled at him again. “I know what brought us here. And I don’t hold it against you.”
“I bloody well do!” said Nalenne.
Light-Nalenne ignored her. “Hang in there,” she told Quinn. “You and I have done the impossible plenty
of times before. We’ll find a way now. This must be incredibly hard for you, but I will do anything it takes
to make sure you’re okay.”
Nalenne gagged loudly. “Hey. Promises-you-can’t-keep girl. Are you done?”
“With him?” Light-Nalenne never took her eyes off Quinn. Her expression got even sappier. “Never. I l-”
“Leaving now!” yelled Nalenne, and sprinted for the exit, beckoning Vette to follow. She felt lightNalenne fading back into the air behind her; all the same, even though the image was gone, it was a long
time before Quinn rejoined them beyond the Sand People village.
Branching Out
58. In which Nalenne calls someone
Numerically, Sorcs can’t be topped.
By the dozens their foes will be dropped.
Though thousands of ‘Pubs
Cry “OP” and unsub,
The sorcerer cannot be stopped.
Stupid Light aspect. What a gross disgusting stream of incriminating and obviously false information.
It’s not like that. It’s nothing like that, and I will not allow him to get that idea. I’m going to do what I
should have done a long time ago.
For the first time, Nalenne took her wedding ring off.
She stuck it in a box, shoved the box way behind the footlocker under her bed, then headed back out to
activate the ship’s holo. “Get me Servant Nine.” (*)
It took close to a minute for Servant Nine to respond. He looked as gorgeous as ever: well-cut Servant’s
robe, noble Pureblood face, a shoulder-length spill of unreasonably good-looking black hair. “What do
you want?” he asked cautiously.
“Don’t make this into a thing, but are you doing anything tonight?”
*
Servant Nine was a hell of a fighter. Lightning, smugness, and glory seared the battlefield while Nalenne
danced between Force bolts in her unstoppable saber play.
“It’s so rare I get to carve up a Jedi temple this big,” she told him. “I love my boys, but they’re
awfully…mundane, you know?”
“Force-blinds are a waste of your time, and the things that challenge them are a waste of your talents.”
That cultured voice had a melody all its own. Servant Nine casually reached over and toasted three
approaching Jedi without looking their way. “You are beautiful when you’re winning, you know that?”
“Thank you. Anything left to kill around here?”
“Let’s look. This way.”
They stalked through the stone halls of the Jedi temple, checking room by room, watching and listening
for any sign of surviving Jedi.
“So how did you get away from the desk?” Nalenne asked as she skewered an oncoming padawan.
“Willpower. And a great deal of complaining. Eventually Servant Three volunteered to cover my
domestic duties just to shut me up.” Servant Nine flicked a small subtle gesture that brought the ceiling
down on several surprised-looking Jedi in a side room.
“Well played.”
“I get restless. I envy you your job.”
“It really is an enjoyable gig.” She turned and Force pushed a lurking knight into his consular friend’s
high-speed rock storm. “Ever consider trying out for Wrath Two or something?”
His smile and his golden piercings gleamed in the darkness. “The Wrath swings lightsabers. Always has,
always will. People with my talents are not considered proper for the job.”
“Bah. I could use a whole lot more of people with your talents, from what I’ve been seeing.”
“Stick around, then. I’ve barely even started.”
Not many people left in the complex, but the holdouts included three certified Jedi Masters among their
number. There had to be some kind of bonus points for that. The challenge of it was intoxicating.
Nalenne couldn’t help but notice that somehow, in spite of the torrents of raw power flying around,
Servant Nine’s hair kept its clean flattering wave.
Servant Nine laughed out loud when the third Master hit the wall mid-admonishment and crumpled
between his fellows. “This never gets old.” He beckoned her on into the next room. “Perhaps we might
do this again sometime?”
Her stomach turned, but it was in a pleasant way. “Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know. It’s worth calling, at
least.”
They reached a big stone chamber at what must have been the center of the temple. They had already
completed a circuit around the outer halls. “I think we’re out of Jedi,” Nalenne said regretfully.
“They really ought to up their recruitment numbers,” said Servant Nine.
“Agreed.”
“Of course, this was only the test run. I wasn’t sure what you liked. I can find us something much more
exciting for next time,” said Servant Nine.
“Mm. Y’know, I get annoyed at being ordered around, but it does bring me some incredibly fun
assignments.”
“Admit it,” said Servant Nine. “As manipulative tools of the establishment go, I’m a good one to have on
your case.”
“Much better than some I could name.”
“Anything else you want to take care of before we call it a night?” He pushed her lightsaber-bearing arm
aside as he drifted closer.
Her heart fluttered. “Oh yes. Just…not on my ship.”
He backed her in the direction of the nearest wall. “I had no intention of walking that far.”
*
She didn’t try to face her crew when she got back to the ship. Which meant that she was still in a floaty
good mood when she reached her quarters and laid her aching body down to rest.
The sex: mediocre? Undeniably. In classic Sith form Servant Nine had expostulated at length on his
requirements and boasted about all the reasons he deserved them while completely disregarding the
needs of his ally and at times seeming to forget that his ally was there at all. The rough and ridiculously
cold stone floor and wall hadn’t improved the experience.
But, hey, it was sex. And a selfish egomaniac for a partner didn’t have to be a dealbreaker. To put it
bluntly, she wouldn’t be Sith if she couldn’t fend for herself.
ROFLMAO! I never thought I'd see Pierce turning down sex. It's a smart man who comes to that
realization, though....
as is.”
Works on so many levels. TY! I am so enjoying this.
bright_ephemera: Lieutenant Pierce laughs in the face of death. That's one of the reasons I adore him.
But the face of whatever the hell happened to Nalenne's last boyfriend, that's enough to give even him
pause. He's no fool. That's another one of the reasons I adore him.
And now I find Nalenne's ship coming to a status that I may rest on for a while, assuming Extremely
Flaky Creative Mind agrees to get back to generating fluff instead of turbulent plot. The Wrath’s
everyday life and character interactions are still open for suggestions/questioning!
As ever, thanks for reading, and I hope you all enj
oy!
iamthehoyden: Very much enjoying! I have to agree with Quinn though, I love me some Cap, lol. Very
curious to see how the Quinn situation is resolved - I'm hoping for destruction, but then I'm terribly
unforgiving on big stuff. (Little things, I'm pretty merciful on.) Wants to know! Wants to know!
59. In which Jaesa and Vette talk it over with Nalenne
A padawan watching the fray
May see many a dubious play.
While Masters dispute
Via combat or moot,
The minions must just watch and pray.
“So the awkwardness factor today was pretty remarkable.” Nalenne set aside her fork and looked up at
the girls.
Vette tossed her lekku. “Ignore it. Meeting somebody in this galaxy who can show you a good time is not
a cause for awkward anything.”
Jaesa moped into her soup.
“And Pierce and Broonmark are just mad they didn’t get in on the Jedi-hunting,” added Vette. “No
worries, they got the job today and they’ll get another one tomorrow.”
“At least Quinn seems pretty professional.”
“By which you mean he’s shut down and withdrawn into the shell he hides in when he can’t stand being
hurt by you any more, master?” said Jaesa.
“No, I meant he’s being pretty professional. He doesn’t get to feel hurt, it’s not like he could be fulfilling
these functions.” Nalenne attempted to hide a giggle by sipping her wine. “Look, I know you wanted a
less seethingly evil, Dark Side-marinated monster for me, but Servant Nine isn’t anything serious, okay?
It was just a thing.”
“For what it’s worth,” said Vette, “I haven’t seen that gleam in your eye since you and Lord Draahg
bumped off Darth Vengean. If this guy is half that good…well, we probably better post a full-time guard,
because the inevitable treachery is going to be epic.”
“I’m hoping I can avoid that if we don’t make this a relationship. He’s just fun.” Nalenne considered.
“Inevitable…stars. Now that I think of it, you don’t think Quinn jumped on the backstabbing bandwagon
just to impress me, do you? It isn’t…that’s not his place. He’s not Sith, I never wanted him to be. He
should never have felt like he had to change that for me.”
“No,” said Vette, “I’m pretty sure he stabbed you in the back because he’s a grasping, clueless, and
morally bankrupt snake, even by Imperial standards. Fitting his idea of what you expect in a guy didn’t
enter into it and would require more sensitivity than he possesses anyway.”
“Okay. Good.”
“So let’s stop talking about him. At this point I would ask you to elaborate on how the date with Servant
Nine went, but I’m pretty sure it was all blood and evil.”
“That’s just about correct.”
“You going to crush any Core Worlds next time around?”
“Don’t know yet. There’s no guarantee there’ll be a next time around.”
Jaesa perked up. Vette rested her elbows on the table and looked skeptical.
“I’m not going to call him first, Vette. The last thing I want out of this is a reputation for being needy.”
“Okay. Sith mind games? Stupid.” Vette started fumbling in her pocket. “I should call him up right now,
get something scheduled for – “
Nalenne Force-knocked Vette’s holocommunicator from her hands. “You will do nothing of the sort!”
Vette stuck out her tongue. “You’re chicken.”
Nalenne drew her saber. “You’re toast.”
Jaesa slammed her hands on the table. “Would you two stop!? I can take the horrific insensitivity, or I
can take the needless violence, but I won’t take both in the same meal.”
“I’m not being insensitive to anyone who matters,” said Vette.
“I’m not being violent to anyone who doesn’t deserve it,” said Nalenne.
Vette looked sidelong at her. “I give your Servant three days, okay? After that, if you don’t call him, I
will.”
60. In which Nalenne follows Jaesa into trouble
A Sith is a secretive sort,
Truth is only a final resort.
It’s doubly so
For the light-side, who know
That a slip-up will cut their lives short.
A cave complex on Dromund Kaas. Jaesa Wilsaam ghosted through the shadows, avoiding the odd shaft
of blue light from breaks in the ceiling.
She reached a snug dry room, squared off by sentient craftsmen, well lit, comfortably furnished.
A robed Twi’lek stood up quickly at Jaesa’s approach. “Thank you,” he said in an unsteady voice. “He’s
coming.”
Someone was loudly walking up the cave corridor. Jaesa drew and activated her double-bladed saber.
The Twi’lek drew and activated his. It shook noticeably in his grip.
Nalenne strode in with arms spread wide. “Jaesa, are you offering aid and succor to light-side Sith
again?”
“Master! Darth Larnik is on his way to kill this man just for the crime of following the Light’s way.”
“And more power to him, says I.” Nalenne grinned at the Twi’lek. “You know, you would be in a much
better position to deal with this stuff if you just joined the winning side. The Dark Side.”
“Is this the best time for this, master?” said Jaesa.
“Do you know this person?” said the Twi’lek.
“I used to be a Light Side Sith like you,” said Nalenne. She started pacing, gesticulating enthusiastically as
she did so. “I was confused. I thought, hey, I can change this bad old Empire. It was a rough time, you
know? It’s very hard. Because you can’t do it. You can’t turn the system upside down, but you sure can
kill yourself trying.”
“Would you please stop crashing these meetings?” said Jaesa.
“There’s a way out of that dark…uh, light…place. I’m telling you. I gave in to the siren’s call of passion
and hatred, and it turned my life around. I made that change. You can, too.”
A stunned silence.
Nalenne shrugged. “Or you can die someday, likely someday soon, with your pathetic, deluded friends.
Your choice.”
Another step sounded in the passageway behind Nalenne. “Stranger,” came a deep voice. “I hope you
weren’t planning on stealing my kill.”
“I’m the Emperor’s Wrath,” said Nalenne, turning to face the burly cyborg who must have been Darth
Larnik. “Every kill I want is my kill.”
The cyborg started. “My lord! I’m sorry. I didn’t…”
“I take it you’re here for the alien?”
“And his friend, if he can claim one,” said Larnik, giving Jaesa a distinctly uncivil once-over.
“Great! You first,” said Nalenne.
“No!” said Jaesa.
“Ha!” said Larnik, prepping his saber and Force charging Jaesa.
Nalenne gave it two seconds before she drew her own saber, then leaped in and stabbed Larnik in the
back. “Upon careful consideration,” she informed him, “you’re the funniest kill in the room. Also, you
took a swing at my girl, and that won’t do.”
Nalenne let the man fall, then straightened and stretched. Jaesa’s face was white. “What was that?”
demanded the Jedi.
“I wanted to see the look on your face when I let him at you. Priceless.” Nalenne beamed, then turned
to the Twi’lek. “Lucky for you I’ve been in a good mood all day. Stay safe; I don’t want my friend’s efforts
wasted. Just think about what I said, okay? It’s never too late to turn to the Dark Side.” She hooked her
saber back on her belt and walked off whistling.
The Twi’lek gaped. “Whose side is she on?”
“Evil,” said Jaesa. “Mostly. It’s complicated.”
The world’s most dangerous sound
Is a scientist mucking around.
Howe’er nice they are,
They may reach too far
And find something best left unfound.
Nalenne rarely bothered to return cold calls, but every now and then she got an interesting one. And so
one day she went for the holofrequency of Lord Grathan of Dromund Kaas.
A slim, masked cyborg answered almost immediately. “My lord Wrath! I’m honored you had the time to
call me.”
“For an old friend, Lord Grathan? I was curious. Tell me, how are things on Dromund Kaas?”
“You know. Slave rebellions all over the place, completely inexplicable enemy spy activities that I know
nothing whatsoever about, major traffic delays on Kaas City’s west side as they continue to botch the
development plan. How is the forefront of the war?”
“Glorious, glorious. You left a message saying you might have something of use for me?”
“Just a little development my scientists came up with. One of them was talking about that time you
rampaged through the lab, scared him half to death, and yet declined to kill anybody. Got me thinking
about the old days.”
“Like when I killed your father and – “
“Careful!” The man in the holo image tapped his mask. “Recall that I remain Lord Grathan.”
“And Lady Grathan remains in charge.”
“Don’t remind me. Mum’s impossible. Anyway, I wanted to offer you our lab’s latest device. Most
comfortable chair you’ve ever seen. Makes sitting at a console a breeze, and you wouldn’t believe how
little strain it places during tight piloting maneuvers.”
“I didn’t realize you had stayed in the ergonomic chair business.”
“These concerns have critically important implications for my entire operation. I’ll send a few chairs
along for installation, if you want them.” A pause. When he spoke again his voice had a decidedly
different tone. “I’m glad we had this time to talk. Don’t forget me, Wrath.”
Nalenne crossed her arms and disapproved as hard as she could. “You know, Grathan, I can’t help but
notice that when I was on my way up, no man in the galaxy would even consider flirting with me. The
most receptive man I ever met was the one who thanked me for my mercy when I told him I was done
flirting.” She raised her voice to yell toward the bridge for a moment. “Thanks for that, by the way, Ice
Man.” Then she returned her attention to Grathan. “And yet now that I’m the most feared killing
machine in the Empire, suddenly they’re falling all over themselves to be ‘remembered.’ Boy, I
remember that the last time we spoke I beat you into submission in three seconds flat.”
“You enjoyed it, though.”
“Not really. It felt like an unfortunate necessity at the time. All the same, thanks for the chairs.” Nalenne
turned the holo off.
“That’s not entirely true,” volunteered Vette from the reading nook couch.
“What isn’t?”
“Guys not flirting with you. You remember FimmRess, Duke Kendoh’s big Sith guard on Alderaan? He
liked you. A lot.”
“What? No, he didn’t.”
“He couldn’t exactly drag you off scene in the middle of the mission, but he totally would’ve if he
could’ve. That vibe was so strong the local geomonitoring stations probably picked it up.”
“Vette, he called me ‘sister’ when we parted.”
“That’s not necessarily frowned upon in all cultures.”
“Ew.”
“I’m just saying. The way FimmRess rolled over every time you fluttered your eyelashes at him? If he
hadn’t been so serious about his job he would’ve jumped you then and there.”
“You just summarized every lover I’ve ever had. And several I didn’t.”
“Yup. Your life gets pretty sad. At least you finally got Servant Nine going.” Vette shrugged
philosophically. “Anyway, dibs on the best chair when they show up.”
iamthehoyden: Those ergonomic chairs have to be one of the most unexpected additions to a list of evil
interests ever. I nearly spit my drink at my computer.
62. In which the crew drinks, drinks, and makes merry
A melting-pot serves, every shift,
Many liquors to charm and uplift.
So raise up your stein,
Or spirits, or wine,
And cheer for diversity’s gifts!
Nalenne waved vaguely. “So then I said to him, - Hey, more Tarisian death-juice!”
“I’m pretty sure you never said that to Servant One,” said Vette.
“Talking to the waiter.” The crew was unwinding in a booth at a restaurant on Nar Shaddaa. Nalenne
was feeling good. “Look, guys, I know we’ve been working hard. For a long time. Days, probably. Maybe
even weeks. So, I think, we should have more outings like this.”
“Hear, hear,” said Pierce, and shotgunned another quart canister of some unnameable substance.
“Because you’re all awesome. Even the lame guy who won’t drink.” Nalenne looked at Broonmark.
“Talz clan does not metabolize alcohol like that,” clicked Broonmark. “Instead we will guard Sith clan.”
“Yup. Exactly so. Ex-act-ly. I need guards.” Nalenne chortled. “I’m dangerous. Rrrrrawr.”
“That’s sounding like weapons confiscation time,” said Vette. She signaled Jaesa to get Nalenne’s
lightsaber.
“Why do you keep doing that?” said Nalenne, ignoring Jaesa while the girl took her weapon. “If I’m
going overboard I can kill you all just as easily unarmed. Here. Allow me to demonstrate.” She reached in
Vette’s general direction and attempted to engage a Force choke. It fell a little ways to the left of Vette’s
actual throat. Nalenne frowned and tried again, straining to focus. She missed. Again. Just as Vette was
starting to laugh, Nalenne finally found the Twi’lek’s neck. “No, weapons, necessary.”
“My lord,” snapped ghost-Quinn in the tone he only used for high-priority in-combat updates.
“Remember yourself.”
Nalenne reflexively complied, but she did make a face. “You’re no fun.”
“Yech,” said Vette, and reached to soothe her throat with more Corellian whiskey. “You clearly need to
push past this point on the drunkenness scale.”
“Oh, that’s rich,” growled Pierce. “You do realize you just saved Vette’s life, captain?”
“Don’t mention it,” said Quinn. “Ever. It’s just that it would be disastrous to get the Wrath started in a
crowded public space like this.”
“I knew it,” said Nalenne. “Depriving me of fun is even more important to you than hating Vette.”
“Depriving you of fun is one of the foremost public safety challenges of our time, master,” said Jaesa.
“It’s just that you’re Sith so usually nobody does it.”
“You’re no fun, either, Jedi.”
“That’s not what you said last night.”
Pierce choked on his drink. Quinn returned to his calm pretense of scanning the room for trouble, while
a single muscle near his eye twitched, violently. Broonmark made a whirring noise nobody could
identify. Vette laughed out loud and managed to be the first to speak. “You’re learning malicious
implications, Jaesa, I like it.”
“I am?” Jaesa hiccupped and looked at her fourth wine glass. “I just meant we were playing peanut
gallery for Annihilators 3: Rise of the Shyracks, and she said I was fun to, to, you know, with.”
“Talk?” suggested Pierce blandly.
“Yes! That’s it exactly,” said Jaesa gratefully.
“Times like this,” said Pierce, “I understand why milord keeps you around.”
“Times like last night, you mean,” muttered Vette.
“Love you, babe,” said Nalenne.
“All night long,” rumbled Pierce with a wicked grin.
“Not all night. Two and a half hours, give or take,” said Jaesa. “Do we have more of this wine?”
63. In which Nalenne and Pierce test Broonmark's work while Quinn disapproves
The Biochem pro takes a haul
Of plants for effects great and small.
A flower, a leaf,
A root, and – good grief!
That didn’t look healthy at all.
Morning of a mundane op, as Nalenne had taken to thinking of the assignments that came from
Servants One and Two by way of Quinn. Broonmark intercepted Nalenne on her way to the bridge.
“New batch of adrenals up,” he blorped.
“Sweet! This the new formula?”
“Yes. Many blibbblg rgoggrblp. Should be good.”
Nalenne might have taken the translator datapad out to get that – most of Broonmark’s biochemical
vocabulary was well beyond Nalenne’s Talz knowledge – but sometimes it was more exciting not to
know.
The Talz set down a small carrying case on the reading nook’s coffee table. Inside were six syringes filled
with a dark blue liquid. “We expect speed-power effects, but we cannot be sure.”
“Well,” said Nalenne, “we can’t go into the field with this untested. Safety first.” She grabbed a syringe
and prepped it.
Ghost-Quinn showed up from the direction of the bridge. “My lord, we will be arriving shortly at – what
are you doing?”
“Broonmark’s latest work. I’m using it.”
“Has that even been tested?”
Nalenne lined the needle up and injected. “Sure. As of right now.”
Quinn stared at the needle. “My lord, you’re going to kill yourself!”
“And see, this is why I never tell you anything.”
Pierce jogged in. “Hey, heard the new batch was up. You’re not going without me, are you?”
“Never ever.” She gestured toward the case. “Broonmark made enough for all.”
Pierce called in the direction of the mess. “Vette, you in?”
“Answer is still no,” came Vette’s voice. “Answer is always no.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“With each new batch, nobody in existence knows what I'm missing. That’s the scary part.”
“I’d rather you limited yourself to testing it on those two, my lord,” said Quinn.
“Relax.” Nalenne was already feeling a little…pleasant. Hyperaware. Good. She activated her saber and
ran through a few practice forms. “Wow, I feel like I could cut my way out of the ship right now.”
Quinn rubbed his temples. “Please don’t.”
“Not to worry, captain. I’ll be nice. I’ll still be following your lead today.”
“Your interpretation of ‘follow’ has always been…loose. And someday you may jab yourself with
something that suspends what few inhibitions you do have.”
“Maybe not,” blipped Broonmark.
“I could take her,” said Pierce. “If I had to. If she was a problem.”
“Lieutenant, you would be rampaging right alongside her. With glee.”
“Ha. Right, that’s true.”
“We join rampage,” quorked Broonmark. “Inhibition-smashing only a problem for Sith clan’s dumbest.”
“I’m thinking this’ll be good,” said Nalenne, stretching and enjoying the odd sensation racing along her
muscles.
“Even better news: We made second-stage reaction to inject when we reach the field,” buzzed
Broonmark.
“What did he say?” said Quinn.
“Nothing you want to hear, captain.”
Vette emerged from the mess. “We better get out there. When they decide to start breaking stuff, I
want it to be not-my-stuff.”
Quinn quickly scanned the ship in general. “For once I agree,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Those ergonomic chairs have to be one of the most unexpected additions to a list of evil interests ever. I
nearly spit my drink at my computer.
bright_ephemera: I can just see Lord Grathan buying off the powers of the Empire with comfy chairs.
Speaking of which, if you're familiar with Monty Python's Spanish Inquisition torture scene sketch, this is
the kind of diabolical use to which such chairs are put:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CSe38dzJYkY#t=118
Come to think of it, the earlier segment of that sketch has a pretty decent listing of proper aspirations
for the Imperial armed forces: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vt0Y39eMvpI#t=51
64. In which Pierce cleans up after Servant Nine
Today’s entry has spoilers for the Imperial Taris planetary line.
A Juggernaut, Thana by name,
Sought by violence and terror to claim
Old Taris’s soil.
Alas, she was foiled:
A stronger Sith wanted the same.
Pierce answered his holocommunicator to find Nalenne’s image stretched out on some floor, one arm
pressed tight to her side. “Hi,” she said.
“Coordinates and I’m there,” he said.
“Keep it quiet, okay? Servant Nine had to bail, you’re just picking me up.”
*
The pickup spot turned out to be on an upper floor of a big office building on the planet Nalenne and
Servant Nine had gone to ravage. Pierce made the entry with a rifle in one hand and a kolto pack in the
other.
Nalenne had crudely bandaged the worst of the vibrosword wounds. Pierce scanned the room, then
knelt and opened the medpac to do things right. “’Had to bail’, did he?”
“I screwed up. Got cut bad. And then you know how Sith are, he gave me some stupid the-weak-will-fall
speech and strutted off, because he’s too macho to help an ally out.”
“Hope you realize you Sith are all insane.”
“These are proud cultural traditions we’re upholding.” She directed his hand to a higher-priority wound
than the one he was about to apply kolto to. “Let’s just get enough so I can walk to the ship under my
own power, okay? The local backup will be arriving at some point and for once I’m not looking forward
to another fight.”
“Milord, you called me ‘cause you know I won’t talk. And I won’t. But you are aware that hiding things
like this is pointless? Everyone on the ship already knows Servant Nine would leave you to die the
moment anything goes wrong.”
“I don’t want to be carried in dripping confirmation of that.”
He snorted. “As you like. Surprised he didn’t take the chance to finish you.”
“Same here. I’m starting to suspect he likes me. So we’re still on for next week.”
“Sith. Insane.” Pierce suddenly cocked his head, listening. “Sounds like someone’s on their way up. I’ll
have to finish the fine work later.” He scooped Nalenne up and carried her to the nearest inactive lift,
ordering it up to the roof landing pad. “Anyway, goin’ halfway like that will be his funeral, sooner or
later. Remember back on Taris, when we were starting out? That Thana Vesh girl, the one you left
locked in an underground prison with three meters of durasteel on every side?”
“Hard to forget,” Nalenne grinned.
“Leave a woman like that alive, that’s a mistake. She’ll just keep coming back.” Pierce raised an eyebrow
at Nalenne. “Thana had all your fire. And to be blunt, milord, she had all your brains, too.”
“I don’t like where this is going. She’s dead now.”
“Well,” said Pierce, “she didn’t have me.” He nudged the lift door open and carried her toward the
waiting Helicarrier’s ramp.
65. In which Nalenne and Jaesa analyze a military attitude
Imperials train, drill, and raid
For the tools of their villainous trade.
They all have to run
Arrogance 101
Else they’ll never make officer’s grades.
“Good morning, master. How’d last night’s mission with Captain Quinn go?”
“Okay. It was a joint op. Not much fun; those military guys are always giving me the stink-eye.”
“Something to do with the ghostliness of their comrade?”
“Yeah.” Nalenne scowled. “He starts a fight, I finish it, everybody blames me. It’s just like with Duke
Kendoh.”
“Or Nomen Karr.”
“Or that General they wanted me to capture.”
“Or Vowrawn’s entire elite guard.”
“Or that village on Balmorra.”
“Or that district on Corellia.”
“Or that moon in the Manaan system.”
“That one was excessive, master.”
“They started it.” Nalenne huffed. “Sort of. I wish these officers would stick with abject terror. Eau de
disapproval doesn’t suit them.”
“It’s one of their defining characteristics.”
“Not against Sith! I’m in charge!”
“I think they just don’t like the nonstandardness of Captain Quinn’s death.”
“Yeah, I guess they would consider that disturbing. Wow, wouldn’t it be cool if I could do it to them
when they displeased me?”
“Master! No!”
“I’ve had just about enough of your decency and compassion, Jaesa.”
“I’ll swear off it when you swear off completely senseless massacres. Here, coffee’s ready.”
Crossover: Imperial Agent
66. In which Nalenne subcontracts to Imperial Intelligence (I/II)
A secretive glamour surrounds
The Agent. Her skill set astounds.
Her lifestyle’s fine
‘til it’s down to the line,
Then it’s less sexy fun than it sounds.
The Diplomatic Service had turned up nothing, but, Nalenne thought, there were other organizations
with other methods.
And so she requested support from Sith Intelligence for a sensitive mission on Voss.
The agent they sent offered to visit Nalenne on her ship on Dromund Kaas. Hey, convenience was nice.
And so one day ghost-Quinn escorted a slim human with dark hair and yellowish skin tone into the holo
room.
The woman entered the room in a graceful, oddly flowing gait. She looked Nalenne over with zero sign
of fear, then smiled a small ironic smile and bowed. “My lord. Agent Dahlia, Sith Intelligence. You’re the
Emperor’s Wrath.”
“I am indeed.”
“I just wanted to say up front, I’m a big fan of your work. So is Darth Jadus. He sends his regards.”
“I’m flattered. I heard about his Eradicator scheme. Great work there. Aren’t you the girl who pulled the
trigger on that first strike?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“I can only imagine the look on your old bosses’ faces. That whole story may have been the funniest
thing I’ve heard in my life. Thanks to the personal touch my work requires, I don’t think I’ll even come
close to your body count.”
“Not many will. I admire your style, though. I’ve seen the holo footage. So, what does the Wrath want
with me?”
Quinn emerged from the crew quarters corridor. “My lord, there is a stranger sniffing around your
quarters.”
“Isn’t that interesting,” said Nalenne. “Broonmark, want to fetch him here?”
The Talz disappeared down the hall and came out a moment later walking behind a kindly-looking older
man, bearded, bright-eyed, wearing nondescript casual street clothes.
“Now, there’s no need to get unfriendly,” he said.
Nalenne walked up to him and activated her saber. “Explain.”
“My lord, I was simply running a security check on Dahlia’s behalf. You realize she is an extremely highvalue asset – “
“I realize you’re full of shit, stranger.”
Dahlia strolled up and seemed ready to push between them, lightsaber or no lightsaber. “My lord, this is
my colleague Doctor Lokin. He may be a bit enthusiastic in his security-sweep duties, but there’s no call
for violence here.”
“You leave any presents for me, Lokin?”
“Of course not,” said Lokin, looking wounded.
Nalenne brought the saber to within millimeters of his nose. “It’ll go badly for you unless you tell me
about any bugs or other surprises now.”
“I left nothing, my lord, I assure you.”
Nalenne jerked her head toward her quarters. “Quinn, check the place. Bugs, bombs, unfamiliar dust, if
you see anything I want to know.” Lokin blinked and looked inoffensive. “Broonmark, kill this one.”
“It is our honor,” bubbled Broonmark, and prepped his vibroblade.
“You had a job for me, Wrath,” said Dahlia, very quickly. “I have a feeling you really want it done. And I
suspect I’ll need every tool I have for it.”
“Broonmark, don’t kill this one,” said Nalenne.
67. In which Nalenne and Dahlia chat (II/II)
A mutual fan club can sound
Like a party. The sweet vibe astounds.
Two villains conspire:
There’s much to admire,
And much to kill next time around.
“Lokin, go on home,” said Dahlia to Doctor Lokin. Broonmark all but shoved the old man out the door.
The black-haired Imperial agent settled back on one of the reading nook couches. “You want
something,” she told Nalenne. “Very much.”
“Access to Voss.”
Dahlia giggled. “Voss is a mess. You know they’re determined not to take sides for another eight years?
‘Til then they’re probably paralyzed by the Gormak bombshell.”
“I don’t care about their sides or their bombshells, I need to reach the Shrine of Healing. Or a spot near
it, anyway. I got there once before.”
“You were lucky, then. It was limited access even before Voss started shooting down all outsiders.” She
gave a little half smile. “Something you need patched up?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“And yet you can’t even enter atmosphere. It’s maddening when you can’t get close enough to the
problem to stab it.” Dahlia produced a little vibroknife and twirled it between her fingers. “Isn’t it?”
“That’s why I’m asking you to find a way to get me close enough.” That smile was really grating on
Nalenne’s nerves. “Why are you so damn cheerful about this?”
“I just find it funny,” purred Dahlia, “that two of the greatest killers in the galaxy are stuck here
discussing how to reach the ultimate kumbaya drum circle.”
“The drum circle wasn’t my first choice.”
“Oh, I understand. Still, it’s difficult, right? You ever wish you had the early-career stuff back?
Understandable boss, whole planets laid out with nothing to worry about but where to stash the
bodies?”
“I was never in the habit of hiding bodies.”
“I see your point.” Dahlia stretched and laced her hands behind her head. “I think I first heard of you on
Alderaan. Friend of mine was absolutely horrified by you. You know, what you did to the Kendohs. And
the Aldes. And the Organas. And the Rists. That was just a great time for you.”
Nalenne smiled, a little proudly. “Don’t forget the Ulgos. Yeah, those were good times.”
“I never understood why this friend I mentioned was so mad over it. He and his friends slaughtered
and/or brainwashed House Cortess without a second thought, but apparently when non-Killiks do it it’s
a crime or something.” She shook her head. “Ethical nitpicking. I hear some people in the galaxy make
allies instead of killing, but more allies always means less action for the likes of us.”
A movement caught Nalenne’s eye. Vette was looking toward Jaesa, and Jaesa toward Vette. “Crud,”
mouthed Vette.
“But,” said Dahlia. “There’s a job now. You need to get access to the Shrine of Healing, and the kind of
access that doesn’t involve blazing guns. Or sabers. I need you landed, I need you – any additional staff
you’re bringing?”
“Guards if I can. If I can’t, I only need to bring one other.”
“Okay. Landed, clearance or at least smuggled transport for two, plus a sympathetic healer contact. May
not be a wetworks job, but it’ll still be my pleasure to assist you.” Her smile twitched just a tiny bit.
“Those Voss kids are completely insane. Could be a while, even with me on the job, but rest assured,
you’ve got the best working for you.”
64. In which Pierce cleans up after Servant Nine
“I don’t like where this is going. She’s dead now.”
“Well,” said Pierce, “she didn’t have me.” He nudged the lift door open and carried her toward the
waiting Helicarrier’s ramp.
kabeone: Swoon
Investigations
68. In which Nalenne checks her romantic status
The news from the front of the war
May surprise or excite: much and more
May be gleaned from the ‘Net
If you watch. Don’t forget,
What you read between lines, don’t ignore.
Nalenne strolled into the holo room from the direction of the ship’s entrance. She stretched luxuriously.
“Today’s work: brilliant,” she announced to Vette.
“So I hear. You’re getting downright notorious on the holonews, you know. You and Servant Nine, as an
item, striking terror into the hearts of Jedi everywhere.”
“Really? That’s…kind of cool. But I don’t know about the item part. We haven’t exactly had that talk.”
“Haven’t had that talk? My lord, the Emperor’s Hand has been officially balancing your workload
between Servant Nine and Quinn for weeks.”
“Basic work-life balance. Doesn’t mean anything. ‘Sides, I’m still taking orders from Quinn at all. So I’m
not exactly on the exclusive page.”
“Sith don’t do exclusive. Let’s face it, Servant Nine’s your boyfriend.”
“Recurring booty call,” said Nalenne.
“’Recurring booty call’ twice a week with an itinerary laid out in advance.”
“Not true! He surprises me a lot of the time.” Nalenne giggled.
“I am proud of you, girl. Not only do you have a love life, you’ve found someone even more terrifying
than you are to get it on with. I’m just really, really glad you keep it all off the ship.”
“That’s another thing. Boyfriends come home with you.”
“He doesn’t have to,” Vette said quickly. “He can be a ‘safe distance away from me’ boyfriend.”
“You really think I should talk to him?”
“May as well. Everyone who tracks major Imperial victories already knows it.”
69. In which Nalenne has a full life and avoids Vette's latest idea
A Sith in defense or attack
Must recall that the clothes can draw flak.
And yet, it takes passion
To keep up with fashion:
It’s simpler to wear off the rack.
Vette leaned up against the console where Nalenne was downloading the latest round of Coruscant
Comics bootlegs to her datapad. “Hey, Nalenne. We took a vote. You officially have to update your
wardrobe. Not only is your armor way out of date, it’s been taking a beating with the high-intensity work
program. You’re going to see a synthweaver for fitting, stat.”
“Can’t. I’m booked solid ‘til next week.”
“I highly doubt that,” said Vette.
“It’s true. Tomorrow, Servant Nine. There was some Jedi war hero, Ako Domi. We captured him for a
while, broke him down but good. Then the Republic broke him out again and now he’s some inspiring
shining paragon. We’re to bring him down more permanently. Then Wednesday, girls’ night out. Dahlia,
(*) Kaliyo, and I are going to…you don’t want to know, but the bloodshed should be awesome. Thursday,
assignment with Quinn, you, and the rest of the crew.”
“You can blow his orders off.”
“And break Pierce and Broonmark’s hearts? I think not. You know how neglected they’ve been feeling.
Anyway, Friday, girls’ night out, thanks to you. Goin’ to pretend to be your owner, Miss High
Maintenance, on Nar Shaddaa, so you can hang out with your friends without the collar getting you in
trouble.”
“Drinking and loud music will be involved. You’ll like it.”
“Come to think of it, I won’t be pretending to be your owner so much as being your owner.”
“Nah, think of it the other way.”
“Smooth. Saturday, meeting up with Servant Nine for some vigorous activity of as-yet-undecided nature.
I’m hoping it’ll be combat, because the sex is less than stellar.”
“I thought you wanted to finally get laid again,” said Vette.
“That was before I met him.” Nalenne grimaced. “Never mind, it is technically better than nothing. And
the fighting’s beyond amazing. And wait a minute, what do you mean, my armor’s out of date? I look
fine.”
“For the spring five-years-ago collection, maybe. I’ve been waiting for somebody to say something, but
everybody you work with is either too clueless or too cowardly. That weird bib plate you’ve got going
on? Gross.”
“I like how it keeps things from breaking my collarbone.”
“Il faut souffrir pour etre belle, hon. Skip the bib. You know how Jaesa’s got some of those mad Vnecks?”
“Jaesa dresses like a ballerina!”
“And guys love it. You’re the Emperor’s Wrath, Nalenne, be bold. A little slinky, a little fitted, some
slightly more interestingly placed nips and cutouts. I know a guy on Hutta, he can work wonders with
cortosis weave and some other stuff. I’ll set you up.”
“Sorry. Busy this week. And next. And the week after.”
“Then we can just cancel our girls’ night out and do it then.”
“I hate you.”
70. In which Pierce pays his debts
In black ops, the rules rarely hold;
As they say, fortune favors the bold.
The cleanup gets rough
From the messier stuff,
And leaves much of the damage untold.
“Morning, milord.”
“Pierce, you’re invading my sanctum.”
“Saw the door open. Couldn’t help myself. Wanted to talk. You recall that time you killed every Cathar
civilian on Taris?”
“I remember it quite fondly, yes.”
Pierce took a couple of steps into Nalenne’s room and let the door fall shut behind him. “I’m here to
report that you missed a spot.”
“Nonsense. I don’t miss spots.”
“Knew some Cathar back on planet. They’re alive, and they’re looking to collect certain debts from me.”
“Debts? To Cathar?”
“It was a game I had with the locals. I’d go lose all my credits to ‘em at pazaak, then go wipe ‘em out in
the next Imperial sortie. Take the credit chips back, all’s well. Or they would lose and then try to wipe
our boys out, not that that ended well for ‘em. Anyway, started betting big when you came through
town. Had an overwhelming feeling none o’ these guys would be alive to collect. For a long time I
thought they weren’t.”
“So pay up or kill them now. No trouble.”
“Well, they recruited some friends. Something about revenge for their murdered families, blah blah war
crimes, gambling debts with some stupid interest rate piled on top – like I signed that kind of paperwork
at a card table in a bombed-out ruin in a Tarisian swamp, right? – and it’s getting bothersome. Figured I
might go to their trap – ah, meeting – and sort things out.”
“Sounds great. Have at it.”
“Thought I would graciously offer you a piece of the action.”
There may have been the faintest trace of actual concern in his voice. “Crew?” she asked.
“Just as soon not. Don’t know what’ll be said. Thought this could be just you and me.”
The thought of Pierce being worried shocked her into full-on distraction mode. “Setting it up with a fight
teaser like that? You just want to get me alone.”
He grinned. “Can’t let those other two have all the action. Hutta, tomorrow night.”
“I’ll clear my schedule.”
“Wear something nice. Something you won’t mind getting messy in.”
*
Nalenne needn’t have bothered wearing her most spikily intimidating black body armor. She was
outclassed by the eight-foot-tall Cathar cyborg monstrosity who greeted them in the patron-free cantina
they entered.
“Pierce?”
“Yeah?”
“You told me you were in debt to a Cathar, not a medium tank.”
“Lieutenant Pierce,” said the cyborg in a voice like the beginning of an earthquake. “We told you to
come alone.”
“You tell me a lot of things, Rashade. How’s the old home guard, by the way?”
“You know the answer to that.”
Others were filing into the round room. Cathar, mostly. A couple of Devaronians. A few sketchy-looking
humans. Nalenne counted, and waited, and reflected that when Pierce decided to show a girl a good
time, he went all-out.
“It’s past time we brought you to justice,” said Rashade.
“Justice? I thought this was about lunch money.”
“I knew what would draw you, Imperial.”
One of the Cathar around the edge of the room raised his rifle. “I am Bentak. Your debt to me is blood.”
A second Cathar next to him took aim as well. “I am Aidan. Your debt to me is blood.”
A Devaronian. “I am Tayz. Your debt to me is a hundred thou, give or take. I figured I would talk exact
numbers after you’re dead.”
“They’re pretty pissed, huh?” said Nalenne, as the recitation continued around the room.
“Spent a lot of time on Taris, milord. Seems the survivors stayed mad.”
“Very well. Where do you want to start?”
“Should’ve just rigged the building to go. Can you keep Rashade occupied?”
“Depends how fast he would get bored of stomping on me. Kidding, I can hold him for a while. Think you
can clear the sides?”
“Keep Rashade between you and the lot if you can. Thermal detonators will be involved, and it’ll be the
ones I’ve modded to skip most of the countdown.”
Their opponents kept lining up their weapons and reciting their grievances.
“Love the drama. I never get fan clubs like this,” said Nalenne.
“Give it time,” said Pierce. “Let’s not give the big guy the chance to talk. On your mark, milord.”
Nalenne took a deep breath and summoned up a sweet swell of hatred. “Mark this, lieutenant.”
*
One thing Nalenne could say for Pierce, his idea of a tough fight didn’t disappoint. She used the
powerful but slow Rashade as armor and shelter while Pierce’s explosives took out most of the room;
then it was time to worry less about positioning and more about beating the hell out of an angry halfmetal man two and a half feet taller than she was.
Conveniently, Pierce’s explosives helped there, too.
When the Cathar went down he went down hard. He recovered, partly, raising himself to his hands and
knees, dripping blood as he glared at Pierce. “You. Everything you did, the way you laughed at us. I
should’ve expected it from a man named – “ he coughed.
“Wait,” said Nalenne. “Named? Named what?”
“A man named –“
Nalenne was fumbling with a medpack. “He has a name? A not-Pierce name? Talk, damn you!”
“Milord, we want him dead,” said Pierce from over her shoulder.
“Shut up. You! Don’t you dare die!”
But the only sound Rashade made was a last rattling wheeze.
Nalenne let him drop. She stood up. “He knew your name? What was he to you?”
Pierce shrugged. “Dead. We good to go?”
“No! How dare you end a date with a tease like that!”
He just looked at her. “Milord, someday if you’re lucky I’ll tell you exactly what you did here today. ‘Til
then, I’ll just say thanks. Wouldn’t have trusted anyone else for this.”
“So this really was significant? In that case I think you owe me something. Like, say, your name.”
He smiled. “You wish.”
71. In which Nalenne questions Quinn's behavior
A Sith, if she fits the cliché,
Breaks a rule or three every day.
For each regulation
A fresh violation:
The Sith will dictate their own way.
Nalenne caught ghost-Quinn in one of the rare moments when he wasn’t on the bridge. She intercepted
him as he passed by the reading nook: “Hey.”
“My lord?”
“You’ve been awfully…docile…lately.”
“I’m not sure what you mean, my lord.”
“You haven’t volunteered a lengthy editorial on all the things I’ve been screwing up in a couple of
weeks.”
“I haven’t seen the need for it, my lord.”
“Uh, my behavior hasn’t changed.”
It took him a moment to answer. “Then stating my criticisms would be redundant, my lord.”
“Stop ‘my lord’ing me.”
“As you wish.”
“I don’t get it. Things have been going great. We’re working together brilliantly a day or two a week.
You’re free to do your desk jockeying the rest of the time, and I hear only good things from the military
about your contributions. So if it’s all so perfect…why aren’t you finding fault?”
“It wouldn’t make a difference, would it, my lord?”
“I said stop ‘my lord’ing me! My original threat to assign you as Vette’s personal servant stands, if you
don’t dial down the frequency on that.”
“I apologize. I meant to say, it would make no difference, so I refrain.”
“It never made a difference. That doesn’t mean I don’t miss it.”
His brow contracted. “How is it that you still manage to baffle me on a near-daily basis?”
“I’m just trying to make things normal around here. Your failure to participate in the overall sense of
contentment is seriously impacting my enjoyment.”
He regarded her solemnly for a moment, then turned and started walking away. “I have work to do.”
“Don’t give me that!” She grabbed at his shoulder, but her hand just passed through him. “How is it
you’re still blowing me off every time we talk? Stars. All my friends are happy with how things are,
except you. You stupid killjoy. You’re just…not with us.”
“I’m dead, my lord. It makes solidarity more difficult than you might expect.”
“Well, get with us. That’s an order.”
He stopped. Looked up at the ceiling. “I shall endeavor to do so, my lord.” He really did have a thousand
vocal shades of ‘you’re being unreasonable.’
“You have a place here. Just tell me what I’m screwing up, okay? Transgressions aren’t half as much fun
when nobody’s calling me on them.”
Quinn looked back, frowning. "There's demanding, there's imperious, and then there's you. I really have
no idea how I managed to take orders for so long from someone so insistent on such irrational,
capricious nonsense."
"That's better." She smiled. "I wouldn’t know how to live in a galaxy that didn’t have you disapproving of
it.”
Ayanka: Maybe you could just make up a name for Pierce? Any name?
72. In which Nalenne finds a change vis-à-vis Servant Nine
For a sister who’s eager to share
It gets quite expensive to care.
A user enjoys
With the easiest ploys
Far more than her sister can spare.
“Evening, milord,” said Pierce. “You’re very…here…for a Wednesday night.”
“Yeah, plans didn’t shake out. Servant Nine hasn’t answered my calls the last few days.”
“Think he’s dead?”
“Not likely. Guys at that level don’t have much threatening competition.”
“Might be plotting against you.”
“Possible. It might’ve been too good to last.”
Vette wandered in. “Trouble?”
“Nothing much. Servant Nine won’t take my calls.”
“He’s probably just brushing up on his ego. He’ll be back for blood soon.”
“Possibly literally,” said Pierce.
Just then the ship holo blipped. Nalenne rushed to answer it. Her sister Niselle came up.
“Lenny!”
“Nis! What’s up with you?”
“Exciting news.” Niselle reached out for someone, and none other than Servant Nine strolled into view
of the holo. Buh? “I finally talked Andronikos into a semipermanent ménage a trois.”
Buh. “That just may be the classiest thing you’ve done all year,” Nalenne said stiffly.
“Isn’t it, though?” Niselle beamed. “You wouldn’t believe how potent an enforcer this one is.”
“I would know better than anyone.”
“Better than anyone? I’m already getting a pretty good idea.”
“Not only is your sister more amusing than you ever were, Wrath, she doesn't whine about friendly fire
incidents when we're out working up a sweat," said Servant Nine. “Thanks for the memories.”
“I’m dying to know who started this,” said Nalenne.
“Lenny. After hearing how much fun you two were having, I just couldn’t restrain myself.”
“Yeah, well. I’ll come up with a really good retort and get back to you.” Nalenne cut the line.
“That was cold,” volunteered Vette.
“No kidding.” Nalenne should've seen it coming; it had been close to three years since Nis had poached
one of hers. That skank. “It’s fine, though. It’s fine. I don’t even care. You know Servant Nine and I had
our differences. A lot.”
“He was a complete monster,” said Vette.
“I didn’t even like him that much. - 'Whining about friendly fire incidents'? Me? Yes, I called him on it.
Did that seriously make me not evil enough for him? What a jerk!"
“And he’s stupid enough to get it on with Niselle, of all people.”
"I'll take her pirate. I will seduce her stupid pirate."
"Don't do that," said Vette and Pierce in unison.
"You're right. Not even worth it. Servant Nine, that's nothing. There were a ton of things he could never
do anyway. Good sex. The feeling that he had my back. Encyclopedic knowledge of what rules I’m
breaking.” Nalenne rubbed her temples. “That selflessness. That stupid way he gets so excited over the
slightest Imperial advantage. That unspeakably weird need to iron his socks…stars, I’m such an idiot.”
Pierce rolled his eyes. “And I see we’re back to a familiar classic.”
Vette stared. “Stars. Cracking stars.”
“That ability to command the scene without even needing stupid Force pyrotechnics,” said Nalenne,
tears rising. “Did I mention the sex?”
“No. Argh. I've seen disruptor beams disintegrate people slower than this. Close to year and a half of
progress, completely undone.” Vette looked up at Pierce. “Back to square hysterical one. Where am I
supposed to find another guy horrible enough to keep her attention?”
“I’ll get the ice cream,” said Pierce.
“I’d rather get an axe,” said Vette.
“One thing at a time.”
73. In which Quinn extends a second olive branch
A tragical air can forestall
Any joys, once you’ve taken a fall.
For heroes Byronic,
It ends up ironic:
It hurts to feel nothing at all.
Nalenne was busy tapping her fingers next to her useless console when ghost-Quinn walked up beside
her.
“Good evening, my lord. If I may ask, what’s giving you trouble?”
“It’s a White Star Comics distribution node I run. Couple of Republic companies have been conspiring to
block ‘em. Not even content censorship, just pure market blockading. I can’t seem to keep my files
available to everyone.”
“So obfuscate the routing.”
“What the what now?”
It’s simple enough. Bring up the node control and follow my instructions.”
He talked her through the configuration, which was only ‘simple’ according to some bizarre Imperial
supergenius definition of the word. But eventually they managed a roundabout setup that would
circumvent the Republic slicers’ blocks, at least for the time being. The comics would flow.
“Thanks, captain. So why are you being helpful here instead of working?”
“I wanted to see how you were. Outside the context of fighting.”
“Oh? But talking to you is always a fight. You do that.”
“Fascinating. I have actually made a minor game out of counting how many words it takes you to initiate
hostilities in our conversations. You make single digits some days.”
“Sith. It’s a talent.” She felt a small incredulous smile forming. “Would you rather just talk?”
“If you have time.”
“Color me surprised.” A thought wandered to mind. “Remember how long it took before the first time
you blew off the console-jockeying night shift to talk to me?”
“Tatooine,” he said immediately. “The hangar bay had collapsed in the last windstorm, we were
stranded. I was furious.”
“Really? I couldn’t tell the difference from normal you.”
“That would be because I was always furious after three seconds of trying to deal with you. I simply had
three seconds’ head start that night.”
“I see. I don’t even remember what we talked about.” Nalenne smiled wryly. “To be honest, I only
remember I was with you.”
“We talked about staggeringly inane things. I remember, for example, you asked me how my uniform
felt, how comfortable it was.”
“Oh! And you said something uninformative, like ‘it was adequate to cover you.’”
“It was a stupid question.”
She decided to let that slide. “What about now? How’s your unchangeable uniform feel?”
“I don’t feel anything.”
Nalenne sucked in her breath. “I’m sorry. That was also a stupid question.”
“At least you’re reliable.”
“I can’t imagine going without all that. When’s the last time you even felt…I don’t know, pleasure?”
Definitely the first feeling she would miss if half her world fell out from under her.
He considered. “Last week. Cornering that Republic squad on Kashyyyk.”
“Ooh, that was a good dramatic entrance. Getting 2V to rig the whole platform like that? Great. But you
know I hate it when you don’t tell me in advance about the cleverly constructed trap that will stylishly
finish off a fight.”
“Half the satisfaction is in surprising and impressing my superiors. The effect is lost if you know it’s
coming.”
“I can’t deny it’s a pretty sexy move.”
“Is that really what you’re thinking about in the middle of a sensitive operation?”
“Every time. Does that surprise you?”
“No.” He half smiled. “That hunger tested my restraint for the longest time.”
“Glad you finally gave in.”
In spite of the singing tension, they did not touch.
“Um,” said Nalenne, “except for the part where it made the disastrous downturn the most unspeakably
painful experience of my life. Not so thrilled about that bit.”
“Not now, please. That battle would be a waste.”
“But slinging blame is our favorite subject.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“You’re being reasonable at me. On a nice topic, for once.” Nalenne nervously ran a hand over her face
ridges. “I would appreciate it if you could just let me hate you all the time, instead of three-quarters of
the time.”
“Yes, well. I’m sure we’ll start fighting again any moment now.”
“Yeah. You’d better go.”
They looked at each other for a while instead. He seemed terribly serious. She wanted to reach out and
inform him that with a face like that, he was still an insufferable wet blanket.
“Malavai?” she said instead. “I should say you do the surprise and impress thing all the time. If that’s
half the fun, consider tonight’s maneuver successful.”
“If you put it in those terms, I am obligated to point out that the other half of the fun is in breaking my
opponent’s spirit as a prelude to crushing them utterly.”
“Yeah, that part’s pretty familiar, too. Now go, before we jinx something.”
74. In which Quinn compromises his principles
The bigger bureaucracy goes,
The worse its efficiency grows.
A man cannot sign
On the right dotted line
When where that line is, no one knows.
“My lord.”
“Captain?”
“I don’t wish to bother you, but I must request your approval on a form.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“Nothing very interesting, my lord. Please stamp here.” He handed her a datapad.
She checked it, looked up at him, looked back at the datapad. “Renewing your pilot’s certification?”
“Yes, my lord,” he said uncomfortably.
“But you can’t pilot anything.”
“Perhaps not, but the pilot’s license is a prerequisite for maintaining the second-degree captaincy – “
“Which you deceased your way out of over a year ago.”
“ – which in turn is absolutely required for the IRRP certification – “
“I have no idea what you just said.”
“ – which in combination with regular DIF-12 training is necessary for cleared access to the heavy
munitions and prototype armor we’ve been requisitioning for the last year.”
“Just tell me where to sign.”
“It’s appreciated. I shall make an effort to get the other expiring dependencies put in order soon.”
“I can skip straight to forging the final approvals on the whole list if you want, Quinn.”
“My lord! That would be fraud!”
“But you’re already objectively disqualified for every step of the process.”
He glowered. “If you don’t want to help, just say so.”
“Of course I want to help.”
Vette paused mid-stride on her way through the room. “Mad at him. Remember?”
“Hush, Vette. I’m preserving our ability to make things go boom.”
“And I’m in favor of this because, why?”
“Because I’ll get you another spa day at that mega-exclusive place on Manaan if you buzz off and never
mention any irresponsible paper filing I may do here today.”
“Make it three days.”
“Fine.”
Quinn frowned at Vette as she left. “My lord, you are a walking cautionary tale of corruption.”
“Says the man calling in favors with me to pretend he can physically fly a spaceship.”
“I would go quite mad if I couldn’t do the work I have now, my lord. That means I need the clearance.
And that means I need someone as ethically flexible as you to get the irrelevant prerequisites out of the
way. It’s still a net benefit for the Empire.”
“See? Reasoning like that shows me you’re developing as a person. I like that.”
“Please. Just sign.”
“I’m just really enjoying this moment.”
“My lord….”
“I love it when you show signs of seeing it my way.”
“There is no love,” yelled Vette from the other room.
“Shut up, Vette,” yelled Nalenne.
“I never get tired of hearing you say that,” murmured Quinn.
“What’s that, captain?”
“Nothing, my lord. If you would affix your approval here, I’ll be out of your way.”
75. In which Nalenne gets a hand from Cipher Nine (I/III)
When trouble mounts higher and higher,
The whole situation gets dire.
The worst off are they
Who willingly sway
From frying pan into the fire.
When a call came in on the main holo, Nalenne was feeling too lazy to make herself presentable. She
answered in her dressing gown.
The agent called Dahlia showed up. (*) And looked Nalenne over, and pursed her lips in a silent whistle.
“None of that,” said Nalenne. “What’s up?”
“Excellent news, Wrath. I can get you to Voss and I can even get you a local guide. It’s just going to take
a few details.”
*
Dahlia met with Nalenne on the Helicarrier. “All right,” said the black-haired agent, “you’ll need to take
three of these shots at 48-hour intervals to suppress certain compounds in your human scent to avoid
raising suspicion with their more sensitive citizens. Then we just need these prosthetics layered on with
makeup to get the Voss look – I assume you don’t want the permanent surgery – and some custom
shoes/stilts so you can pass for a Voss, on the short side, but still Voss.” Dahlia considered. “The contact
lenses will be painful, but we can make it work. Can you memorize forty traditional codeword greetings
by tomorrow? Also, ugh, the captain can’t shave his head, can he.”
Nalenne blinked at her. “I don’t even know where to start with how wrong this is.”
Dahlia snickered. “Good thing I’m putting you on, then. You should’ve seen the look on your face.”
“I would Sith out on you, but I still need your help.”
“That’s the beautiful part. Come on, the approach should be straightforward if we take my ship. I’ll get
you set up, I can give you a day on planet, then we’re out of there, no ion cannons involved.” She cocked
her head. “Maybe I could knock some of ‘em out to pass the time…”
“Be sure to give them my regards first,” said Nalenne, thinking of the damage to the Helicarrier from
their previous Voss expedition. (*) “How soon can we go?”
“Right now works. Come aboard my ship, I’ll drop you off as close to the Shrine as we’re allowed to
land.”
*
‘Close’ was a ridge within sight of the great squared-off shrine complex. Dahlia and Kaliyo prepped some
insane quantity of explosives and headed off away from the shrine, giggling like schoolgirls. Nalenne and
Quinn headed a little ways away and surveyed the rocky path to the shrine proper.
"Beautiful as I remember," said Nalenne. The sunlight seemed to suffuse everything in sight, its warm
light coming from everywhere at once.
"I never liked it," said Quinn.
"You never liked anything that wasn't a warship's command deck."
"Voss specifically was a very stressful place from my perspective."
"Why did you even ask me to marry you, anyway? Seems like a lot of paperwork for a woman you were
about to try to kill.”
"I always have a plan, my lord. But many plans never have to be executed. Perhaps events would take
their course such that you would have to die. But perhaps not; and if there was to be a tomorrow, I
wanted to share it with you."
"Careful what you wish for."
"...yes, I do believe that has been the lesson of the year."
76. In which Nalenne and Quinn consult with the Voss (II/III)
The Voss have a singular rule:
First the Mystic, the Force power’s tool,
Then interpreters wise
To suggest compromise
‘twixt commands that would stump sage and fool.
Nalenne and ghost-Quinn knelt on multicolored rugs, facing a trio of Voss: their appointed guide,
flanked by a slim woman and a large, muscular (by Voss standards) man.
"In conclusion," Nalenne was saying, "I need to move this guy on out of his ghostly existence. And
supposedly some vows of ours, likely the wedding vows spoken at one of your stone monuments here,
is holding that back."
The three Voss watched, unblinking, for a long time.
"Any help here?" said Nalenne.
The guide spoke. "The two souls are bound as one. One cannot live if the other dies. One cannot die
while the other lives."
"Stop. There. Unacceptable," said Nalenne. "Was this in the venue booking brochure?"
"This is the marriage bond," said the Voss flatly. "No matter the location."
"You people die all the time. How come I don't see ghost-Voss following their spouses around?"
"Blind strength of will," said the slim woman.
"Blind strength of purpose," said the muscular man.
"Blind Mystics’ strength," said their guide. "Voss understand their purpose. Our Mystics do not take
these vows at the stone, for they know the power of their own words. You brought your chains, Sith,
and you, human. Forged in ways that are not Voss, but bound in ways that are Voss."
"We're coming to an unbinding idea here. Right?"
Their guide stared at her, unblinking. "Die. Then you are free."
"Weeeee're coming to an alternate unbinding idea here. Right?"
"Live," said the woman. "Then you are free."
Nalenne expelled a short sharp breath. "How do I say this...."
"My lord, if the location truly had some reaction with our vows, that location would be the best place to
start looking for a way to break it apart."
"There is nothing to break," said their guide. "You are one."
"Are you listening? We are obviously not one. I'm Sith. He's human. I'm female. He's male. I'm alive. He's
dead. I'm pretty. He's...hm. Well."
"Broken," said their guide.
"Incomplete," said the big Voss.
"One and wounded," said the woman.
"Bound and blind," said the guide.
"You're wrong. Would there be any not-death solutions for your interpretation, which I am not
conceding is true in any way?"
"Is there a way he might live?" the big Voss asked his fellows.
"This is beyond our power," said the woman.
"Is there anything you can do?" snapped Nalenne.
"Release you both in death," said their guide. "If that is your wish."
“You guys really do only come in ‘creepy’ and ‘creepier’ modes, don’t you? Quinn, have you had enough
running in circles?”
"More than enough, my lord."
“Well, then. Tell you all what. You call me when you’ve figured out severing this or re-embodying
somebody. And I’ll go not die, because that solution sucks.”
Nalenne rose, dusted off her knees, and stalked out of the pavilion.
Quinn kept pace with her. "Pretty vs. ‘hm, well’? You never complained about my appearance before,"
he muttered.
"Rhetorical license," she said. Then she looked over at him. "All the same, some days I think I would be
happy if I never saw you again. No offense."
77. In which Nalenne and Quinn look at a rock (III/III)
A difficult fact, but it’s so:
Some rituals bind, root, and grow.
The promises spoken,
Respected or broken,
May govern far more than you know.
A broad valley done out in the same russet and gold as the rest of Voss. In a small copse to one side, a
grey standing stone, maybe two and a half meters high, was surrounded by an ancient circle of smaller
stones.
“Doesn’t look like much,” said Nalenne.
“Yet we were sent here. At the time I was surprised the Voss would not permit an indoor ceremony,”
said ghost-Quinn. “In retrospect we should have insisted.”
“Eh, we might still have been ‘heard’ there.” (*)
“Quite probably, but indoors wouldn’t have triggered my allergies so badly.”
Nalenne shook her head and walked up to the spot where they had spoken their vows. “I quit,” she
explained.
“I doubt that will have an effect, my lord.”
“I’m done. I’m officially undoing this marriage, so you can stop enforcing it.” The stone failed to respond.
“Blast. Do we have ritual divorce words?”
“No,” said Quinn.
She turned back to the stone. “Look, I’m really impressed with the stability of what you did here, but I
want my life back. Or his. Or something. So if you could just leave us alone, that’d be great.”
“My lord, you’re talking to a large rock.”
“And this is less silly than having you around?”
“I’m not silly,” he said stiffly.
She knocked on the monolith. “Let me go, please?”
He walked up beside her and laid one immaterial hand on the stone. “Let the bond be undone,” he said
quietly.
“Who’s talking to rocks now?”
“Let it end.”
“Wow. Morbid overtones much?”
“We’re well past morbid by now, Nalenne.” He frowned at the stone. “If there is anything to listen this
time, end it.”
“Rapidly falling into disturbing territory,” she said.
“You do recall that the entire point here is to kill me?” he said impatiently.
“Okay, good point.”
Quinn shook his head. “This system would never stand in the Empire. I can’t wait for us to annex this
forsaken planet, or at least bomb it into glass.” He looked back to the stone. “If it can bind, why can’t it
reverse? I could lay out a better design after six shots of death juice and a hard blow to the head.”
“I don’t think it’s listening.”
Quinn studied the ground. “I recall you being much more effective at solving this sort of thing than you
currently are.”
“I could try smashing it,” she offered.
“That’s just desperate enough to work.”
So she took out her saber and warmed up with a frustration-fueled stabbing thrust at the center of the
monolith. She drove her saber through with remarkably little trouble and started pumping raw power
into it. By the time she withdrew, the whole thing was weak enough for a flurry of powerful blows to
break it into chunks, then pebbles, then something approaching sand.
Quinn looked at the mess and its attendant dust cloud. “Nothing,” he said.
She wiped her eyes. “Well, I feel a little better, at least.”
“You would. I am anxious to go, if we’re finished here.”
“Yeah. Maybe we can come back for some orbital bombardment later.”
Quinn followed her back toward her speeder. “I think that would make me feel better, too.”
kabeone: How long do those limericks take you to write? They're really fun and match so well.
bright_ephemera: They're usually 2-5 minutes, and some of them have the benefit of me sleeping on
the problem and waking up with better ideas. For most of these entries I pick one image or sentiment,
then bang my head against a rhyming dictionary until something falls into place
Determination
78. In which Nalenne wallows in self-pity
We each have our own way to mourn,
To cope with a feeling forlorn.
Some try something new
To avoid feeling blue,
But some keep one method well-worn.
Nalenne sat at the counter and yelled. “Pierce. Ice cream?”
Rather than yelling back to answer Nalenne, Pierce jogged over to the mess. “Yes. My lord. About that.”
“We’re not out already. We can’t be out. I’m too miserable to be out of ice cream.”
“You’ve been eating it for four meals a day ever since the, ah, time at which you started eating it.” He
did not mention Servant Nine.
“It was only twice a day. Until just recently because Voss is horrible and I can’t think of anything else to
try and, and I screwed my ex over when he didn’t do anything wrong.”
“No, milord, he did something wrong.”
“I don’t pay you to shove facts in my face. I pay you to keep ice cream in stock.”
“Give it a moment.” Pierce stepped out of the way to let Vette and a very large container of triple coco
chunk through. “Same consumption level, more booze, we’re looking at a relapse, trigger likely the
captain,” he muttered as she passed.
“Where did you get that?” demanded Nalenne, shoving several empty shot glasses aside.
“Definitely not a secret stash from where we control the supply so you don’t kill yourself gorging on
comfort food,” said Vette.
“Uh, Vette?” said Pierce.
“What? She asked.”
Nalenne already had the carton open and was struggling to work her spoon into the hard-frozen stuff.
“Keep your secret stash at a better temperature.”
“We’ll do that, milord,” said Pierce evenly. “Anything else you need?”
“I should lose all hope more often. It makes you guys so accommodating.”
“Please don’t,” said Vette. “It makes you unbelievably unpleasant to interact with.”
“Well, I think you’re a bitch, too.”
“And I’m only still alive after that infraction because you love me.”
Nalenne finally got a hard chip of ice cream into her mouth. “M. Mmm mm…m…meh?”
Pierce raised an eyebrow at her.
Nalenne finished swallowing. “This is wrong,” she explained. “Chocolate’s off.”
“How do you figure?” said Vette.
“There’s less of it. Everyone hates me, I can’t keep a man, I’m a failure at taking care of my friends, and
now there’s less chocolate in my ice cream.”
“Could be a bum batch,” suggested Pierce.
“Unacceptable.”
“There is a war on, milord. These things happen.”
“The Republic deprived me of real ice cream, everyone hates me, I can’t fix anything, and I’ll die alone.
I’m going back to bed.”
“I repeat, my lord, everyone doesn’t hate you,” said Vette.
“You just said I was unbelievably unpleasant.”
“My lord…”
“And why is the chocolate gone? Where’s Captain Know-it-all? I bet he would know about supply
problems.” Nalenne grabbed the carton and started toward the bridge.
Quinn, having heard the stomping, met her halfway. “Why is my chocolate gone?” she asked him. Jaesa
looked up from her reading, but said nothing.
“Given the distributor?” he asked, scanning the carton with a critical eye. “There have been heavy
shipping disruptions in sector seventy-three, dramatically cutting chocolate production. The
Confectioners’ Guild (*) has already taken action against both the Republic and an opportunistic pirate
organization in the region. Estimates are that the affected systems will be secured within two weeks, but
there has already been sufficient disruption to interfere with several of their deliveries.”
“This is why I keep you. Still, they should just ship fewer cartons before deciding to diminish their ice
cream formula like this.” Nalenne shoved another big spoonful into her mouth and took a moment to
melt/chew/swallow it down. “This is a travesty.”
Quinn just looked at her. “I am not inclined to disagree, my lord.”
“This is normal for her,” Jaesa reminded him.
“You both hate me, too. I can tell. I’m sorry, Quinn. I’m really sorry. I would hate me, too.”
He fixed his gaze on a point over her left shoulder. “I wasn’t planning on hating you, my lord.”
“Now you’re being tactful. That means I did something wrong. I hate everything. Find me something to
smash tomorrow, please.” Before anyone could respond, Nalenne turned around and ran to her
quarters.
“Confectioners’ Guild better hurry up,” growled Pierce.
79. In which Nalenne lays out Plan B
When organic conundrums get tough,
Sometimes DNA is enough.
Just look and you’ll see,
Bases G, A, C, T,
Can spell out remarkable stuff.
“So we’re stuck,” said Nalenne.
“We truly dislike the lack of killing here,” said Broonmark.
“The Voss talked about getting us both living to set things right, but we don’t exactly have anything for
Quinn to live in, nor any means of putting him there.”
“This is true,” bubbled Broonmark. “Better to kill.”
“I was thinking, we might work on the thing-to-live-in while we try to figure out the putting-him-there.”
“Sith clan’s dumbest’s body drifts outside Corellia, after righteous killing. It will not be found.”
“Therein lies the problem.” Nalenne gestured nervously. “You’re the best biologist I know, Broonmark. If
there’s anything we can find or construct or something, preferably something that looks like him, you’ll
find a way.”
“We would require DNA to start. But Sith clan burned everything belonging to clan’s dumbest after
betrayal and correct killing.”
“Yeah, therein lies the problem. Would anyone have saved something? Anywhere?”
“While we would have enjoyed dumbest’s blood, we never spilled any.” Broonmark paused again. “Med
bay may save. Hospitals. Perhaps military or government…Imperial government is creepy.”
“They feel the same way about you.”
“Hoth common law was better. All disputes: killing. No government needed.”
“Maybe, but the Citadel is what we’ve got. I’ll check about any sample storage they do have.”
“Even if body is regrown, Sith clan cannot force the dead into living form. Opposite of killing is opposite
of our specialty.”
“Maybe. But the raw material can’t hurt, right? If we come across something impossible, Broonmark, I
want to be ready.”
“Sith clan has better things to do with time. Sith clan owes dumbest one nothing. Kill. Move on.”
“I think we’ve established that killing isn’t happening.”
“Sith clan’s effort is weak. Clan wishes to heal itself instead.” Broonmark shook his head. “There is no
healing that big a jerk.”
“Whoa. Since when did you have a problem with Quinn?”
“Since always. Also since betrayal. Also since Sith clan’s dumbest used to keep coming to cargo hold to
read comics and throw dirty looks at us. Also since every time clan’s dumbest yells at us for leaving our
kill on the coffee table.”
“I…I didn’t realize…”
Broonmark shrugged. “Sith clan needs. We obey Sith clan.”
“I suddenly, really appreciate your not whining all this time. Just…let me know if you think of anything,
okay? And don’t tell anyone. Especially not Jaesa. If she knows I’m trying something she’ll never let me
hear the end of it.”
“Sith clan is safe.” Broonmark crossed his arms. “Sith clan is stupid, but fortunately for Sith clan nobody
else in clan speaks Talz.”
80. In which Nalenne faces the Imperial government
Some courage displays on the field,
As banner, as weapon, as shield.
The more inane kind
Of inflexible spine
Looks much less impressive to wield.
“Yes, my lord, we do maintain genetic samples of everyone in the Imperial military. It’s invaluable for
broad population medical studies and certain special programs.”
“No doubt,” Nalenne told the officer in the holo image. “I need access to a genetic sample for a certain
soldier.”
“That goes against protocol, my lord.”
“Emperor’s Wrath, peon.”
The officer shifted uncomfortably. “Who did you have in mind?”
“Malavai Quinn, formerly captain, deceased.”
He tapped some console and checked. “I see. I can’t just release this to you, or to anybody. The higherups would have my head, and I’d rather die by your hands than theirs.”
“You can release it to me. I’m his next of kin.”
“Oh.” He tapped his console a little more, waited, frowned. “Ah, according to our records, my lord, you
‘divorced him as hard as Sith-ily possible, renounced all possible association with him, declared
anathema on his name, and rejected all past or future connection with him.’”
“Well, I changed my mind.”
“I, uh…I don’t…this is very difficult, my lord.”
“Not my problem. I want my husband’s blood.” She considered. “This seems to be a recurring theme.”
The officer swallowed hard. “Yes, um, you can certainly come to the repository on Dromund Kaas. I’m
just not sure how much luck you’ll have with the staff there.”
“I have the Dark Side and a really big lightsaber. I don’t need luck.”
*
Kaas City. The lobby of an Imperial government skyscraper.
“Get me Malavai Quinn’s record.”
The little old woman behind the desk peered up at her. “And you are?” she said, with a voice as sour as
her face.
“Darth Nalenne. The Emperor’s Wrath. Short on patience.”
“Did you submit an IRR-284 for this retrieval?”
“No, I’m submitting a ‘Give me what I want.’”
“I can’t do anything without an IRR-284.”
Nalenne drew and activated her saber. “I have an ‘I’. Is that enough?”
“No,” she said primly. “Also, weapons are not allowed in the archive.”
“Are you paying attention to the part where I eat dogs like you for breakfast?”
“Your dietary habits have no bearing on the fact that you are not authorized to access the genetic
archives.” She glared. “I am going to have to ask you to leave.”
“No!”
“If you’re going to be difficult,” she said resentfully, “then here.” She leaned under her desk, shuffled
something or other, and came back up with a paper copy of a form. “Fortunately for you, I have a blank
IRR-284 on hand. You may fill it out now.”
“Like hell!”
Just then Nalenne’s holo beeped. She was more than willing to answer it rather than looking at the
odious little archivist.
It was Broonmark. “Sith clan. Greetings.”
“Broonmark, I don’t have a lot of time. I’m in the middle of something.”
“If archive fails, we have a DNA sample from clan dumbest.”
“What? No. How?”
“Dust bunny hall of fame. (*) We checked oldest entries. Searched every hair. Found hair with remaining
follicle. Should be sufficient.” Broonmark looked at the floor. “It is our shame to report that we
destroyed all dust bunny champions in our search.”
“I don’t really care about the hall of fame, Broonmark. That’s…that’s perfect.”
“Please keep all personal holo conversations outside,” sniffed the archivist.
“Bloody hell,” said Nalenne, and killed the archivist with a swift Force choke. “I’m done here.”
81. In which Vette points out a flaw in the plan
When chaos and trouble are rife,
It’s smart to track each moving knife.
I feel I should mention,
The span of attention’s
Proportional to that of life.
“Hey. My lord.”
“Hey. Vette.”
“Whatcha gonna do with your hard-earned Quinn remnants?”
“So you heard about that.”
“I have my ways. What’s the plan for ‘em?”
“Nothing, for now. Keep an ear out for a solution, hope the DNA sample we got helps. Work until then, I
guess, because for once Quinn’s favored answer to everything may be the only thing to do, just don’t
ever tell him I said so.”
“About that solution thing. I didn’t say anything when you gave the guy who sent killer droids after you
his own personal droid for customization as he saw fit. Looking back, I have no idea why I didn’t point
that out, but there it is.”
“It’s not like 2V could possibly threaten me.”
“Maybe. But now you’re seriously talking about physically restoring the man.”
“Well, yeah.”
“Because restoring physical capability to the guy who tried to kill you is a great idea.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Yeah, we’ve pissed him off plenty more since then.”
“He wouldn’t, Vette. It isn’t like that any more.”
“You’ve forgiven him,” she said accusingly. “You’ve forgiven him for the entire elaborate scam that was
his getting close to you.”
“Why are you so mad about this?”
“Apart from the part where he knocked me to the bottom of the totem pole from day one and still
appears to rate above me there?”
“You were always at the bottom of the totem pole, Vette. It was a two-person totem pole before he
came along. That doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”
“Maybe I should ask, why aren’t you mad? Have you noticed that he is every bit as annoying as he ever
was, he’s right back to serving Sith over your head that will probably betray you, and he’s just waiting
for you to do the hard work for him, again?”
“I’m…kind of used to doing what he says, really. Quinn bosses around. I complain a lot and then I get the
job done.”
“And then he shivs you. This pattern is established.”
“It’s not a pattern. It only happened once.”
“That’s because you killed him before he could repeat the behavior. Good job, nipping that in the bud.
Now don’t set it up to happen again.”
“I owe him this, Vette.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard! And in this crowd I hear stupid things on a nearly-hourly basis!”
“I have to ask. Is all this your way of saying you’re mad that he caught you rigging his console to display
nothing but Republic propaganda again?”
Vette spent a moment wavering between straight face and ferocious scowl. “Rrrrrg,” she finally said,
and stomped off.
When Nalenne headed to the mess for a snack a few minutes later, Pierce looked up from his second
breakfast. “Milord. Heard about the genetic-sample efforts. Are you sure you want to physically restore
the guy who tried to kill you?”
“Don’t start.”
82. In which Nalenne takes a day off with Vette and Jaesa
A Sith on vacation time will,
If you let her, quite fail to chill.
She’ll play like she works:
Unfettered, berserk,
And perfectly ready to kill.
“Give it up.”
“If you think I’m going to surrender my lightsaber,” said Nalenne, “you’re tragically deluded.”
“I’m not giving you a choice.”
“Death first.”
Vette rolled her eyes. “Jaesa, can you get out of the pool and take charge of Nalenne’s lightsaber so she
runs out of excuses to avoid swimming?”
“I don’t know why I let you drag me here,” grumbled Nalenne, but she gave her lightsaber up anyway.
“It’s not that I’m not enjoying the completely insane new work schedule you decided on,” said Vette.
“It’s just that I’m not enjoying it. And also you need some downtime.”
“Angst never rests, hon.”
Vette’s eyes widened a little more. Her jaw set. With a speed that would have done credit to a nexu, she
launched herself out of the pool and around Nalenne to give the Sith a hard shove toward the water.
Nalenne allowed it, more or less, and stumbled gracelessly in.
Vette followed her. “Angst this.” She splashed, hard.
Nalenne coughed and spat. “Maybe I will.” She dispensed with the hand movement in favor of a Force
push, swamping the Twi’lek. And several strangers a few meters beyond her. And several more
strangers who had been reading some ways away from the pool.
Nalenne looked apprehensively toward the lifeguard, a skinny Selkath youth. He looked back at her,
gulped loudly, and said nothing.
“This establishment might be kind of okay,” conceded Nalenne.
“By the way, master,” said Jaesa, “the suit looks great on you.”
“Really? I was just thinking it’s so non-protective that I’m going to bleed out and die the minute
somebody throws a sharp look my way.”
“You’ve been getting looks.”
“Have not.”
“The nice kind.”
“Just as it should be,” said Vette. “Great to have some potential company that isn’t our boys, huh?”
“No,” said Nalenne stubbornly.
Vette splashed her again.
They played around for a while, Vette demonstrating how a Twi’lek swimming underwater will trail
floating lekku in a creditable Alderaan doubleback shark impression, Jaesa sunning herself and throwing
positive commentary whenever Nalenne threatened to get unpleasant, which was every ten seconds or
so.
“So,” Vette said at some point. “After-supper plans.”
“I’m not doing the massage thing.”
“Why not? It’s great.”
“If I’m going to be paying for unclothed contact with a stranger, I refuse to go halfway.”
Jaesa sucked in a breath. “Did you have to say it that way, master?”
“Canceling plans, are we?”
“After that image? Yes.”
“Mud wrap?” suggested Vette.
“Mud what?” said Nalenne.
“You get this mud mask slathered all over, and then you get wrapped up for a bit. It’s all soothing-detox
stuff.”
“I don’t know where to start. First, who even thought that was a good idea, and second, I bathe in mud
at work all the time. Why would I do it on my day off?”
“Fine. The hair services are out, since between you and me we don’t have any hair. Nails?”
“You think they have a shade of red that won’t clash with my skin?”
“They have everything here.” Vette started pulling herself out of the water, paused while holding herself
up on the edge of the pool. “Hey, Jaesa, guys at three o’ clock checking you out.”
“Stop doing that! It’s not like I’m available.”
“Tough being pretty, isn’t it? Maybe we can catch a trio later.”
“Master…”
Nalenne cocked her head. “Jaesa, are you trying to pin me between my reluctance to have fun and my
desire to see you squirm? Because that’s just not nice.”
Vette got the rest of the way out and stretched. “I know which side I would pick.”
"Yeah," said Nalenne. "Just for today, yeah, I think I'm with you."
83. In which Nalenne has and holds while Broonmark questions
A circle of clever adults
On difficult matters consults.
It’s wise to take note:
A crowd may outvote,
But the Sith’s the one counting results.
“Captain.”
“My lord?”
“I’ve been thinking about the fact that you might be stuck like this forever, and how rotten that is.”
“Coincidentally, so have I.”
“And I’m sorry. I’m really sorry I can’t find a solution for this. I’m sorry I did it to you in the first place.”
“You have pointed out multiple times, and accurately, that I would have killed you otherwise.”
“Hmm. Then I guess I would be bodiless.”
“And probably quite insane, having to be conscious but not physically amused twenty-four hours per
day. A mind like yours could not endure that for long.”
“I guess I’m not so sorry I killed you.”
Quinn covered his face with one hand. “That was not the intended conclusion, my lord.”
“No. No, listen. I know I’m out of ideas, but if anything comes up, if you find anything, tell me. Okay?
You have my money, my authority, my lightsaber, my talents of persuasion, my talents of coercion;
anything I can confiscate, crush, buy, or burn, name it and it’s yours. If we spot what you need, if there is
a way, I’ll make it happen for you, no matter what it takes.”
“That’s very kind, my lord. You said exactly the same thing to Jaesa an hour ago when she mentioned
those shoes she wanted.”
“I meant it then, too,” Nalenne said defensively.
“You really put the ‘thoughtless’ in ‘thoughtless generosity.’”
“I don’t know what else to do. But that’s not the point. I meant to offer a temporary measure. We know
you’re stuck close to me or close to the ship, right? If you wanted, I could get another ship for myself
and the crew. You could take the Helicarrier with 2V and whatever military crew you want, and go
freelance, or go back into the system, whichever. You wouldn’t have to be near me for the rest of my
life.”
“I see.”
“Say the word and it’s yours. If…if you want?”
“Do you want to be rid of me?”
“Way to avoid the question.”
“I could evade for quite some time, my lord, if you refuse to answer first.”
Nalenne bit her lip. “It’s complicated, okay? This situation isn’t exactly easy on either of us.”
“Repeating the obvious is also a way of avoiding the question, my lord.”
“No. I don’t want you gone. But the option is there if it ever gets bad.”
“Yes. If it ever gets so bad that being set adrift with only 2V-R8 for company is the preferred solution, I
shall notify you.”
She decided to give up there.
Broonmark fell into step with Nalenne on her way back to her quarters. “We overheard Sith clan.”
“And?” She didn’t really want to talk about it.
“Sith clan still says traitor is welcome. Clan has carried infected flesh for many months. Infection should
have been cut away and cast aside long ago, but it is still here, and it eats at the clan. Also it talks
annoyingly at all hours, such as when we are trying to sleep. If clan is free to change ships, then why do
we remain?”
“I need him,” Nalenne admitted.
Broonmark gurgled annoyedly. “Why?”
“I don’t know. Why do I need air?”
Broonmark raised a claw for quiet and turned his translation datapad on. He handed it over to her,
motioning for her to watch as it translated his many unfamiliar words.
“Because air carries in the oxygen required for our cellular metabolism while carrying away the waste
products of that selfsame metabolism.”
“How literal. No. Why do I need, I don’t know, sunshine?”
“Because in addition to assisting with the regulation of certain hormones, it is necessary for the
photoreaction that generates vitamin D, which is otherwise only obtainable through dietary
supplements. We see Sith clan never studied biology.”
Nalenne rolled her eyes. “No. You want to know why I need him? Why do I need the rush of bloody
victory?”
“Oh.” Broonmark considered for some time. “Combination of entertainment, rush of endorphins,
healthy cardiovascular activity, and the emotional satisfaction of a challenging job done well?”
Nalenne grinned. “Something like that.”
“Sith clan can find gratification without physically restoring one who tried to kill Sith clan.”
Nalenne threw up her hands. “Everybody is so hung up on that part!”
Pierce paused on his way past. “He telling you you’re wrong about Quinn? Because if so, count my vote
on his side.”
84. Side commentary: In which Nalenne considers two non-superheroes
A comic store patron is faced
With stories to fit every taste.
With such varied bids,
To claim it’s for kids
Lets far too much art go to waste.
“What is this?” asked Jaesa, peering over Nalenne’s shoulder at the latest comic book.
“Oneiros. Very cool series, came off a sub-label of Coruscant Comics.”
“What’s it about?”
“A few personifications of the major powers of the galaxy. Death, dreams, pettiness. The raw stuff of
nightmares, the roots of almost every basic story our culture has ever constructed. It’s got it all: murder,
suicide, monsters, betrayal, cannibalism, torture, really brutal slavery, some staggeringly creative
varieties of coercion, several forms of abuse too horrible for me to talk about...”
“Too horrible for you to want to talk about.”
“Yup! It’s great, I love this series.”
“Please never show me any of it.”
“It’s really good. I think you would love it.” *
“I think that statement is false.”
“Really, really good.”
Jaesa walked away.
*
Nalenne caught up with her later. “Didn’t scare you, did I?”
Jaeas looked up from her own console. “Nah, I’ve been going through a discovery of my own lately. It’s
about a supergenius tinkerer girl and her wacky adventures in a strangely technologically stunted world.
Check out this visual style.”
“Jaesa…”
“Pretty, isn’t it?”
“It’s very…round.”
“All the girls are like that. Talk about your hourglass figure, huh? But look at some of these full-page
spreads. The detail on that mechanic’s bench!”
“She’s doing mad science in her underwear.”
“It’s cute!”
“What was it you said earlier, about ‘a discovery of your own’? Jaesa, you have…tendencies…don’t you.”
“You just noticed this, milord?” said Pierce in passing.
“The mad science is a ton of fun, though, master. And look at the airships!”
“Going back to my catalog of unspeakable brutality now.”
Jaesa nodded amiably. “Going back to funny coffee machines now. I love these books.”
*
* I've heard this line.
Author’s note on Sandman: I cannot tell you how many times my friends have said ‘It gets less
staggeringly depraved as you go! Really!’ Sandman: Cannot recommend for anyone who lacks a cast-iron
stomach. However, for the kind of stories it tells, it is superbly crafted.
Author’s note on Girl Genius: This is pretty much the cutest thing ever. I got bored after a while, but man,
when it’s good it is incredibly wacky fun good.
85. In which Nalenne gets an unexpected tip (I/II)
Matters can quickly go sour
At the levels of ultimate power.
Reversals are quick,
With each tick-tock-tick:
Much can change in a day or an hour.
“My lord?”
“Quinn, you just walked through my bedroom door without knocking.”
“I can’t knock, my lord.”
“Or yelling.”
“I had a good reason. I have something very difficult to say. I’m hoping you won’t fly into a murderous
rage if I say it.”
“Bad way to start, but okay, I’m curious.”
“The Emperor’s Hand has decided to remove you and place Servant Nine as the Wrath.”
“But who’s going to be Nine then?”
“I didn’t ask.” The old intensity was rising in his eyes. “Nalenne, they’ve ordered me to help dispose of
you. We don’t have much time to raise a defense.”
“Got any battle droids from the last time?”
“Not funny.”
“You’re actually helping me?”
“I’m trying to. I am supposed to have you alone on the ship tomorrow morning. We need to have
measures in place by then.”
“You’re helping me.”
“I’m supposed to get the rest of the crew off the ship. You’ll have to brief them on the appropriate cover
action. They won’t take it from me.”
“You got an order from higher-up, and instead of obeying it you’re helping me.”
“I was rather hoping the gesture would prompt you to pay attention to what I am saying so you can
survive the next twenty-four hours, my lord.”
“Sorry, stuck on the novelty of you helping me in this scenario.”
“The Emperor’s Hand is a force to be reckoned with. It would be wise to focus.”
“Fine. Any idea who the assassin will be?”
“No. At worst, it may be Servant Nine himself, with support.”
“Servant Nine’s too cocky to bring support.”
“Then we may have a chance.”
“No, wait, back up a bit, captain. You’re really helping me?”
He studied her face. “Based on previous patterns I estimate a forty per cent chance you won’t snap out
of this until I make some dramatic declaration, and since I just ran through the more probable ‘you
won’t snap out of it until I offer the prospect of an entertaining fight’ scenario, I’m forced to fall back on
it. I am yours, Nalenne. No authority, no force, no command will threaten that again.” He drew himself a
little straighter. “Furthermore it’s an idiotic personnel decision on their part. I can’t support it.”
“I’m starting to believe you.”
“I am relieved to hear that.”
“I might actually cry.”
“Please don’t, my lord.”
“You’re helping me.”
“Do you have even the slightest interest in taking action to preserve your life?”
“Oh! Right. Let’s get to work.”
iamthehoyden: Awww....my heart's softening an ittle bit towards Quinn...an ittle bit
Ashlian: I've been on Team Quinn, because I'm a sucker for the bad boys, but I didn't see it happening
until recently with the little hints that they might be able to get him a body, and I knew he'd have to at
the VERY least show his "cough" UNDYING support for Nalenne. So it will be interesting to see where the
story goes from here, I can think of more than one creditably excellent story progression, not all of
which involve Quinn back in the saddle, so to say. The Flaky Creative Mind has much to do, hmm!!!!
Can't wait to see how it all turns out.
86. In which we beseech the powers that be for class rebalancing (II/II)
A Sorc’s full advantage would take
Half a day just to list. He can break
Quite a lot with his art.
So sadly, he’ll start
Well ahead when a lot is at stake.
It was, admittedly, not a very complicated plan.
Morning, and Nalenne ordered her crew to go grab some biochemical samples from the chaotic former
zoos and gardens of Corellia.
Then she idly flipped through an issue of the Scarlet Nexu’s Revenge. Quinn wandered off at some point.
She took no notice. After she finished the comic book she drew up a short nonsensical shopping list and
left the ship.
Even with the advance warning, she was surprised to see that Servant Nine was approaching the ramp
just as she was coming down it. Interesting timing. “Servant Nine,” she said warmly. “Long time no see.
My sister’s kinkfest kick you out yet?”
“I’m quite through with your sister,” he said. “In the end she was as disappointing as you. No, I’m here
about your job.”
“Oh? Wanna go out sometime?”
“I will.” He ran a dramatic pair of sparks down his arms to burst into a flash of light between his hands.
“You won’t.”
Before Nalenne had a chance to give the signal, Pierce’s first round impacted at Servant Nine’s heels.
Nalenne drew her saber and grinned. “Showtime.”
*
“THIS. IS. NOT. FAIR.”
Servant Nine smiled lazily and leaped once more, smashing down to fling Nalenne back. “Sorry, did you
think you could touch me?”
“Hand clan cheats,” buzzed Broonmark, hanging suspended beside Nalenne in the lingering aftereffects
of the shock.
An easy flick of Servant Nine’s hand threw lightning-pain through Nalenne and branching amidst her
friends, once, twice, before he even seemed to start thinking about what he was doing. The moment her
muscles started obeying her again, she Force leaped back in to deal another staggering blow.
Servant Nine casually jammed Pierce’s rifle from afar, refreshed a disabling whirlwind around Vette,
flared another burst of sparks at 2V-R8. Nalenne struck. His static shield flashed brilliantly on breaking,
blinding her and causing Broonmark and Jaesa to grunt in distress. Then he was running, flicking more
lightning as he went, briefly turning Nalenne’s legs to lead with some Force trick. When Jaesa got close
he burst even faster, leaving the Jedi choking on a fresh puff of dust.
Then, just for fun, Servant Nine stopped short and raised purple pain around the whole battlefield.
Nalenne kept at it. She had no choice. The raw hatred that powered her Force Choke after he knocked
her back again and started channeling some healing meditation on himself…well, it should’ve killed him
outright, but he slithered free instead.
“Nalenne,” yelled Vette, uselessly firing another stream of blaster bolts into Servant Nine’s shield.
“Ideas?”
“His hair’s starting to muss. That means he can’t keep popping that shield up much longer.”
“Hey,” said Servant Nine, annoyed.
“I know you, babe,” she told him. “Hey, Broonmark, go long.”
Servant Nine cast one curious look at the Talz, who obediently started trotting away. Then Servant Nine
looked to Nalenne and slammed another crackling, stunning force through her.
“Dammit,” she said, and Force pushed him without raising an arm. It was powerful enough to send him
straight to Broonmark’s blade, and Broonmark wasn’t stunned just then. “Everything you’ve got, guys.
Just don’t shoot me when I get in close.”
*
Not only was Servant Nine’s hair mussed, but his robe was scorched in multiple places and he had
actually pulled out a lightsaber rather than continuing to throw weaker and weaker Force work.
And that was just fine by Nalenne.
“Back off, guys,” she said at last. “We’re almost done.” Servant Nine started a sardonic smile at the
sound of that, but Nalenne successfully beat that out of him with a few hard strikes.
“So what’s your opinion on witty repartee at this point?” she asked him.
“You’re terrible at it, pet.” He flicked an attempted stunning trick.
She was finally mad enough to shrug it off. “Okay, then. Killing works.”
He turned her around, quickly. She was more than a little aware that Pierce and Vette would have
trouble maintaining a clear shot. She was also more than a little aware that they wouldn’t need it. Saber
to saber. Lightning to bloody-mindedness. Servant Nine had a lot of skill and a lot of power, but the
clock was ticking and Nalenne was better at staying mad.
Another flurry of blows, a stinging shower of sparks from him, a reflexive Force push from her. “I’m just
starting to feel good,” she said, and was surprised to find it was true. Down, side, side, cross, down,
thrust. This for being a certifiably awful lay, that for banging her sister, this for trying to take her job,
that for trying to use her husband, and that because she truly believed Quinn would’ve gone for it.
Servant Nine stumbled. Nalenne’s last blow turned from a proper subduing attack to a death stroke
before she could reverse it. He fell to the ground without a word.
“Wait a minute,” said Nalenne. “I was going to gloat. You can’t die before I gloat!”
“Him dying means you won, my lord,” said Quinn as he came up beside her.
“A win without a victory speech is scarcely a win at all. You of all people should know that.”
“Don’t try to reason with her,” warned Jaesa.
“I know,” said Quinn.
“That was just disappointing.” Nalenne scowled.
“You said that about most of Servant Nine’s performances,” Vette pointed out.
The crew turned to stare at Vette.
“What?” she said. “It’s true.”
“I guess…I guess we’re done here, guys,” said Nalenne. “Time to go home.”
87. In which we learn the price of disobedience
The end of one major conflict, but not the end of our original problem...
The Imps give conditional love
Handing pain or support from above.
Serve well and they’ll give
A superb way to live –
Or just death, or a variant thereof.
“I’m keeping my salary,” said Nalenne, “But understand that the only reason I’m staying Wrath at all is
that you guys just demonstrated you’re nowhere near capable of bringing up an even vaguely qualified
replacement.” Nalenne made a face at the holo. “Also Quinn likes the work.”
“Quinn is a remarkable creature,” said Servant One. “The offer remains open, captain, if you think your
droid is up to it. But I suspect your chance has passed.”
“What is he talking about?” asked Nalenne.
“An exchange,” quavered Servant Two. “The captain obeys our command. The Hand restores his body to
him. A new Wrath rises.”
“All within the Emperor’s power,” said Servant One. “Or it would have been if you hadn’t done the exact
opposite of what we wanted, you stupid weasel.”
“Quinn. They offered you a body?”
“Yes,” he said, staring fixedly at the base of the holo.
Nalenne blinked. “Now I’m going to cry again. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It wasn’t relevant, my lord. They asked me to betray you. I declined. The cost was my concern, not
yours.”
“I…I really want to argue more, except that you still have the option to change your mind so I think I’m
just going to agree with your decision for now.”
“It’s appreciated, my lord.”
“I don’t suppose you guys could re-embody him anyway? You know, as a favor for your extremely scary
Wrath?”
“Not likely,” said Servant One. “We may need your services, Wrath, but don’t expect us to get friendly.”
“Good luck finding anybody half as dangerous as me for a replacement candidate.”
“Servant Nine would have prevailed. Only Quinn’s treachery saved you.”
“You say treachery, I say getting it right for once. You’ll understand if I’m not too broken up about his
play.”
“The Wrath is crying a lot for somebody who isn’t broken up,” observed Servant Two.
“Not the point. I called to say I’m not dancing to your tune for a little while, okay? Call me when you find
a fight worthy of me, but for now I’m taking a vacation.” A pause. “A paid vacation.”
“Damn,” said Servant One.
“Get gone.” She cut the holo.
And then she had to face Quinn. “I don’t…Malavai, I can’t even hug you.”
“It’s hardly necessary. You realize my motivations mostly have to do with my never, ever wanting to
know how much worse things would get if I betrayed you again.”
“You could have been rid of me, and back in business. A real job. Respectable superiors. Snazzy up-todate uniforms, probably with some shiny new decorations.”
Quinn’s brow creased. She suspected he hadn’t thought of that. But the expression passed. “You have a
habit of imagining choices where there are none, my lord. My loyalty is to you. It could be no other
way.”
“Even with the uniforms?”
“Even with the uniforms.”
“Yeah. Thanks. I, um, I think I’m going to keep crying for a while. Sorry about that.”
He gave her the ‘you’re being unreasonable again’ look. “I was trying to help.”
“It’s a thing, okay? I’ll be fine. Malavai, I’m – I’m great.” She covered her face with her hands and bolted.
Quinn stared after her, perplexed. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “I think.”
bright_ephemera: Honestly, I could see Quinn taking his orders, watching Nalenne and the crew die,
resuming his regular job, and spending the rest of his life as a well-behaved drone, telling himself that
honor only counts for the highest authority you know.
The hope is that the devastating psychological damage - err, sweet emotional attachment - wrought by
the preceding months prompts him to think for two seconds about how he would live with himself after
pulling a stunt like that. I don't think he's ever met anyone who looks after her own as determinedly as
Nalenne does, and perhaps more importantly for his overall priorities I don't think he's ever met a more
powerful person who still respects his opinions and is willing to champion his chosen cause. Throwing
that away on the word of some cultists would offend both his Imperial-efficiency sensibilities and his "I
regularly interpret the things I want to be a) good for the Empire and therefore b) morally imperative"
doublethink.
kabeone: I thought he was terrified that betraying her again and swapping places would make her the
ghost and him the living one and that would be truly horrific. Imagine Nalene with nothing else to do but
bother him.
I thought he was terrified that betraying her again and swapping places would make her the ghost and
him the living one and that would be truly horrific. Imagine Nalene with nothing else to do but bother
him.
bright_ephemera: ..........brb, rewriting the rest of this series. XD
88. In which Quinn and Nalenne don't start
If action speaks louder than word,
Some strong stuff can be overheard.
Some choices, some acts,
Show evident facts;
Denial becomes quite absurd.
“Hey. Quinn? Get in here.”
“My lord?”
“My quarters. Come on.”
“Is that appropriate?”
“What, does the bed scare you? I can’t exactly violate you now.”
Quinn reluctantly followed Nalenne into her quarters. She sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed and
faced him.
“So, one, thank you, and two, I have no idea how I’m going to make this up to you.”
“You don’t owe me anything, my lord. I did what my duty demanded. It was nothing to do with you.”
“Um. Hi, that was blunt.”
“It’s true.”
“Nothing to do with me.”
“No, my lord. I was keeping my word. Nothing more.”
“You gave up the hope of…of everything. Your life back. All that to save my considerably-less-thanprofessionally-optimal life, but it’s nothing to do with me.”
""My life back' would be meaningless without my honor,” he snapped. “You know that.” A fraction of a
second later, he snuffed out even that hint of emotion.
“Gotcha.” She looked up at him. He kept his best straight face. “I have to ask,” she said. “This is a
completely different and totally unrelated subject, of course. I’m just curious. Do you have a speech
prepared about how we can never be with each other or even acknowledge that it might be nice to be
with each other?”
He did his tolerant-calm face. “Since you ask, yes. I do.”
“Did you break it down into all the reasons we can’t and all the reasons we shouldn’t?”
“There was sufficient overlap that I opted not to draw that distinction.”
“Ooh, ooh, can I guess the list? Lemme start: First, no body, no physical anything. This renders our every
nonprofessional interaction pointless because, let’s face it, I have no admirable qualities beyond the
physical and you have nothing I appreciate beyond the same.”
“That’s not true at all.”
“You always thought so.”
“I didn’t! You know I admire your power and determination. You know how I feel about the way you
never hesitate to give your all to aid your friends and crush your enemies. About how as long as you’re
at my side there is…you know that I did not intend to say any of this and that was a cheap trick, my
lord.”
“You wouldn’t have fallen for it if you weren’t already on the edge,” she said smugly. “I knew you liked
me.”
“Permission to retroactively apply the strict past tense to every sentiment I expressed there.”
“Denied.”
“Your rare moments of base cunning are damnably timed.”
“Every now and then you still underestimate me. Admit it, you love that I do that, too.”
“Were you going to return to listing the reasons any affectionate exercise would be not only pointless,
but actively destructive? Because I can pick up if you’re finished.”
“I was going to talk about you first.”
Someone knocked at the door.
“Come in,” said Quinn loudly. “Please.”
Jaesa shuffled in. She was wearing fuzzy slippers with her regular Jedi robe, and she was carrying a
couple of bags of unpopped popcorn.
“Hi, Captain Quinn,” she said shyly. “Master, I just got the holovid for My Little Nerfling VII, I thought
maybe we could watch it together tonight.” She waved the popcorn bags.
“Oh! Jaesa, that sounds nice, but I’m a little…”
Jaesa looked from Nalenne to Quinn and back. “Busy?”
“Yeah.”
Her eyes were completely round. “He’s sleeping over?”
“He’s my husband, Jaesa, it doesn’t really count as a sleepover.”
“Ex-husband,” Quinn reminded her.
“I never submitted that paperwork.* You only escaped on the technicality of being dead.”
“I just thought we could…” Jaesa looked down at the popcorn. “Okay.”
“Will that be all, Jedi?” Quinn said maliciously.
“Quit it, Quinn. We can get together tomorrow night, okay, Jaesa?”
“Yeah. Sure. I guess I’m just used to having you, you know, whenever.”
“I fear you won’t be ‘having her’ tonight,” Quinn said in a tone closely resembling the one he used for
victory monologues.
“Good night, Jaesa,” Nalenne said gently. The Jedi nodded and shuffled out again.
Nalenne turned to Quinn and tried not to laugh. “What was that?”
“What was what?” he said, returning to his perfectly neutral expression.
“You were ready for blood!”
“I don’t know what you mean, my lord.”
“Tell me again how much you don’t care about me personally.”
“I can. I will. I…permission to be excused, my lord.”
“As we go forward, captain, I’ll be looking for ways to render what’s both impossible and inadvisable,
merely inadvisable.”
“I wouldn’t have saved your life if I’d known you would make it an excuse to torture me again.”
“Well then, I’m lucky your decision had nothing to do with me, aren’t I? Dismissed, Quinn.”
And before she had finished saying his name, he was gone.
* - this is a dirty lie. Nalenne inundated every government and military office that had a published
contact frequency with rants on how completely over that marriage was.
89. In which Niselle and Nalenne talk some more
Today’s entry has spoilers for the Sith Inquisitor endgame.
Professional tensions run high
When nemeses fail to die.
A grievance recalled
From a grudge long forestalled
May throw office meetings awry.
“I can’t believe you demanded the floor during my meeting with the Dark Council for this.” Nalenne
infused her lightsaber with enough power to fling Niselle’s lightning bolt off to one side.
“Darling, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.” Niselle flung a crackling Force sphere of raw pain. It hit
Nalenne squarely in the shoulder.
“Darth Marr, make her stop,” whined Nalenne, transferring her lightsaber to her good arm and running
in for an attack.
“Please do,” said the cyborg Darth Ravage, looking down from his lofty seat to where the sisters fought
on the wide floor of the Dark Council’s assembly room. “You’re the one who insisted on promoting this
brat to the Council.”
“Don’t look at me,” said Darth Marr. His face was hidden behind a blank mask. “She’s only fighting
because her wretched sister killed her boyfriend, and that sister is only here today because of Darth
Vowrawn’s machinations.”
Nalenne leaped, downswept, and was thrown back again by the explosion of Niselle’s Force shield.
The noble Sith Pureblood Darth Vowrawn gestured languidly. “Darth Niselle would have picked a fight
regardless of how many boyfriends the Wrath has killed. She doesn’t have a tenth the class the Wrath
does – and I will remind you, the Wrath has earned her place here.”
Niselle was on the run, firing lightning when she could. Nalenne helped the retreat process by Force
pushing Niselle with crushing power into the base of her own Council chair.
“No fair!” yelled Niselle.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” said Marr, “but I’m starting to miss Darth Baras.”
“I would take even Thanaton back,” said Ravage.
“Or Vengean’s theatrics.”
“Or Ekkage’s interminable speeches.”
“It seems you gentlemen have no respect for strength anymore,” said Vowrawn.
“Cattiness,” said Marr. “The word you’re looking for is cattiness. And you’re right, I have no respect for it
at all.”
“DIE,” said Niselle, shielding herself again and pushing toward Nalenne.
“What are we going to do if she kills Niselle, anyway?” said Ravage. “She doesn’t have time to be both
Wrath and Councillor.”
“Bah, she could easily handle serving on the Council,” said Vowrawn. “She’s a very capable young
woman.”
“Take that!” Nalenne swung at Niselle and missed.
“That’s not how it works,” said Marr. “You’ll recall the Wrath has already killed two Dark Council
members, and on neither occasion did she take his seat.” He looked across the room to a scrawny
tattooed human. “All the same, rookie, you’ve inherited the most ill-fated Council chair of the last two
years. Good luck with that.”
Niselle was once again running. Nalenne rolled her eyes and leaped her twelfth Force charge of the
evening. The fight raged on.
A familiar rough voice interrupted them next. “Nis? When you get a moment?”
“Not now, Andronikos,” said Niselle. Crackle, crash.
Andronikos leaned against the great stone frame of the chamber’s entrance. “Khem Val’s gotten into the
Academy classrooms again. He’s going nuts in there.”
“What? No!” shrieked Niselle. Zap, swing. “He knows better than to do that when I’m not there to
watch!” She bolted for the door.
Andronikos waited a moment after she ran past. “Look, Nalenne, I heard about what happened with
your captain. There’s something I wanted to -“
Niselle ran back and grabbed him by the shirt. “Come on, Andronikos.” She dragged him out of the
room.
Nalenne stood alone on the Dark Council floor.
“Are you quite finished?” Marr said coldly.
“Yeah. Why don’t you guys just decide among yourselves what needs smashing and call me back later.”
90. In which the crew considers their options
When ill-advised openings call,
The forecast may shock and appall.
Preventative measures
Against certain pleasures
May serve to dodge heartache for all.
Pierce sat down at the mess table. “This strategy session is now called to order.”
Jaesa stopped mid-bite. “I was just here for a sandwich.”
“Had to lure you in. Knew you wouldn’t come otherwise.” As Pierce spoke, Vette ushered Broonmark in
and closed the mess door.
“We all know the Wrath is full-on determined to bring Quinn back now,” continued Pierce. “We all know
this is a problem.”
“I don’t think it’s a problem at all,” said Jaesa. “I think it’s wonderful.”
“Let us agree for the purposes of this session,” said Vette, “that Jaesa holds the dissenting and incorrect
opinion on everything. Her objections go without saying.”
“I concur,” said Pierce.
“Brrrblop,” said Broonmark.
“Maybe the Wrath won’t find an answer,” said Pierce. “But maybe she will. She’s motivated enough for
it right now.”
“Thanks to Quinn’s cheap ‘oh look at me I’m so loyal’ maneuver,” said Vette.
“It was a real sacrifice, done out of love!” said Jaesa.
“It was a publicity stunt,” huffed Vette. “Done to worm his way back into her affections. Even further.”
“Whatever it was,” said Pierce, “if he comes back we need to limit his influence.”
“Rrrrbgop?” suggested Broonmark.
“Don’t suppose you have your translation pad on you?” said Pierce.
Broonmark hung his head and shook it a little. “Blop.”
“Figures. All right. Jaesa, if you don’t have the stomach for decisive action, at least tell me you can help
keep an eye on the captain. Make sure he doesn’t pick up any more secretive extracurriculars or pen
pals.”
“I don’t think that kind of scrutiny is called for.”
“I had another idea for a way you could help us all,” said Vette.
“And that is?” said Jaesa.
“Could you just seduce Nalenne already? It’d get her mind off of Quinn pretty darn fast.”
“Vette!”
“Easiest thing in the world, Jedi,” said Pierce. “Just do whatever you’ve been doing all this time and then
add a little tongue.”
“Pierce!”
“Boprssopsssschhhhhlllllick.”
“Broonmark!”
“We’re all just trying to protect Nalenne’s feelings,” said Vette. “And that means having her not back in
bed with Quinn.”
“This is disgusting!” Jaesa shoved her sandwich away and stood up.
Pierce reached out and laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Sit down. Don’t want to have to make your
life difficult.”
“So obviously,” said Vette, “we’re watching his activities. He’s still gonna have way too much influence
over her.”
“And if he comes back, you can bet he’ll be reinstated as an officer. Don’t think I can get promotion
paperwork through any time soon, so I have a vested interest in his return not happening.”
“You can’t just block his reinstatement,” said Jaesa. “You’ve got no standing for a formal objection to it.”
“That so?” said Pierce. “He acted against the Wrath once. And just now he acted against the Emperor’s
Hand. Either one would earn him a violent, and permanent, dishonorable discharge.”
“The accusation of a soldier and a slave won’t hold up,” said Jaesa. “Only a Sith’s word would do that.”
A pause.
“Her sister,” said Vette. “We get Niselle to demand his removal.”
Pierce grimaced. “You saying we get to pick between striking a deal with that maniac, or letting Quinn
have his way?”
Another, longer pause, while everyone stared at the table.
“Niselle,” Pierce and Vette said in unison. “Definitely.”
Broonmark nodded. “Bkorrrblop.”
“Pity killing him again would put us right back where we started,” said Pierce. “But if things go south,
then we get Darth Niselle to put in a word, I go fix 2V to stop listening to the captain, and hopefully
Jaesa comes ‘round to our way of thinking. That’ll be a fair amount of damage mitigation right there.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Vette. “Remember, Jaesa. Tongue.”
91. In which Nalenne, Pierce, and Broonmark raise hell
For hooligans spoiling to fight
A job as enforcer is right.
The major attraction
Is job satisfaction:
It’s fun to wreak havoc outright.
“On your left, twenty meters,” said Nalenne.
Pierce turned and gunned, taking out two Republic troopers at once. “You still can’t judge distance
worth spit, milord.”
“My world is ‘lightsaber range’ and ‘about to be lightsaber range,’ what did you expect?” Nalenne Force
pushed a soldier into a nearby tree at killing speed. “That looks like a biggish squad up ahead. You think
we should wait for support?”
Pierce looked back over his shoulder. The blaster-scorched swath through the forest extended back
quite some way. They could still see the rest of the crew back there, along with some Imperial troopers,
proceeding slowly while securing a series of small buildings along the way.
Pierce looked at Nalenne. Nalenne looked at Pierce. “Nah.”
“How much further to the outpost proper?” she asked.
“’About to be lightsaber range,’ he said dryly. “Over this next ridge, maybe half a klick into the valley.
There’s another couple hundred ‘Pubs garrisoned there. Should be a good time.”
“And see, this is why I like getting jobs from your friends.”
The Republic squad got to within firing range and fanned out to take position. Nalenne and Pierce sped
up to join them on the dance floor.
It didn’t take long to clear that out. The Sith and the Imperial kept moving. Before long Broonmark came
sprinting through the forest from up ahead, a huge red-and-white ghost wielding a vibroblade, eerily
silent. He stopped short to bow to Nalenne. “We are happy to report that the outpost is empty.”
“Nobody was there?”
“Many were there. Now none are there.”
“What’s up?” asked Pierce.
“He says he already cleared the outpost.”
Pierce scowled. “Without us? I’ll kill you, freak.” He took aim.
Broonmark laughed, a disturbingly wet bubbling sound. “All dead. But we saved big fort, seventeen
klicks east.”
“He says we can take the next fort over.”
“Fort Rieekan? Not a bad idea.” Pierce nodded. “Let’s let those slobs back there clean up this place while
we move on.”
“Nothing to clean up,” blipped Broonmark. “Except the dead.”
“I’ll assume that was bragging again,” said Pierce.
“Don’t mind him, Broonmark. Good job,” said Nalenne.
“Yeah, yeah, good job, but leave us a piece of the action next time, eh?” said Pierce. He rubbed his head
and looked around the scene. “Kolto check before we go on, or we good to go? We could wait for 2V if
we absolutely have to.”
“Nah, I’m good,” said Nalenne.
Broonmark considered his own heavily stained pelt. “Almost none of this is ours. Let us hunt.”
“Blech, that’s a lot more walking,” said Nalenne.
“Thought it was all ‘about to be lightsaber range’ to you, milord.”
“Hush, you. Let’s go grab speeders at the outpost.”
They set off at a fast walk. “Someday,” said Pierce, “you’ll have to show us the tough jobs you always
talked about with the other guy. These ‘Pubs are boring me.”
“Someday, Pierce. You busy tomorrow?”
“Make me an offer, milord. Make it good.”
“Tell Sith clan artillery to run fast tomorrow,” quorked Broonmark. “We will not slow down to coddle
him.”
“If that was more about kill-stealing I will shoot him.”
“Have I ever mentioned how much I love you boys?”
“Don’t care how much you love him. He keeps cutting me out of fights, I’ll shoot him.”
Broonmark only laughed.
“Boprssopsssschhhhhlllllick.”
kabeone:
bright_ephemera: I realized after posting...I have written a line of suggestive Broonmark fanfic. And that
is one more line than this world really needed.
...
Earthmama: Aaah!! I am so squarely on team Quinn right now!! Can't wait to see how you wrap this up!
<3 Well I can, cause I love reading it....but I'm curious to see where you take it.
92. In which Quinn lets the cat out of the bag
In spite of a job that’s quite crappy
True friendship can get downright sappy.
The fraternization
May raise indignation,
But keeps the participants happy.
A holonet café on Nar Shaddaa. Quinn and 2V were busy at a terminal labeled ‘secure’ which, Quinn
maintained, was nothing of the sort, but would have to do. Pierce, Broonmark, and Jaesa sat nearby.
Nalenne was just coming up with a huge tray of food.
“Last armload,” she gasped, setting it down before the crew. “I thought Vette’s friends’ order was going
to kill me. I swear whatever they’re asking for is Twi’lek for ‘bricks.’”
“You brought Vette’s friends lunch?” said Quinn.
“Yeah. It was on the way anyway, and one of her friends is only in town a few hours, I couldn’t ask Vette
to take time out of that.”
Quinn turned away from his terminal entirely. “My lord.”
“Yes?”
“I’ve held my peace long enough about this.”
“Uh, what’d I do?”
“You arrested your entire schedule to carry Vette here.”
“Yes.”
“You worked all week to earn the credits to hand directly to her.”
“Yes.”
“Captain,” said Pierce, “this isn’t the wisest line of inquiry.”
“Be quiet, lieutenant. My lord, you then proceeded onto the surface, to stay close to her, so that if she
needs you – as, for example, if someone challenges her collar – you can immediately be summoned to
sort it out for her.”
“Um, Captain Quinn,” said Jaesa diffidently, “wouldn’t you rather finish up your report?”
“No. Now, my lord, you are staying in town, at her beck and call, and fetching meals for her and her
friends?”
Pierce slammed one huge hand on the table. “Captain, please, can we put aside our differences just this
once, just long enough for you to really listen to me and SHUT UP?”
A stunned silence descended.
“Yeah, like that,” said Pierce.
“No,” said Quinn. “As I was saying, my lord, have you forgotten that Vette is your slave, and not the
other way around?”
“What?” said Nalenne blankly. A few seconds passed. “Uh, yeah – I mean, no! Of course not! Who would
forget that Vette’s my slave? Ha ha!”
“Dammit, man,” growled Pierce.
“We were going on nine weeks since she gave any indication of remembering,” said Jaesa glumly.
“My money was on another five before she picked up on it again,” added Pierce.
“Eight here,” said Jaesa. “Broonmark’s closest in the pool, by a wide margin.”
Broonmark quorked contentedly.
Quinn looked to Nalenne. “Shall I start from where this behavior is completely inappropriate for a Sith of
your station, or shall I start from where she’s an insufferable brat who wouldn’t deserve this level of
consideration from anyone?”
“Don’t start at all, captain. That’s an order.”
Quinn glared.
“Vette’s a complete failure as a slave. She has yet to admit to that status and she’s certainly never acted
like one. I wouldn’t try to break down that level of denial.”
“You would and you have,” said Quinn.
“But that was for you. You’re different.” Jaesa and Pierce exchanged looks after seeing the look on
Nalenne’s face there. Jaesa failed to suppress a smile. Pierce rolled his eyes.
“As compared to her? I should hope so.”
“So she’s terrible slave material. That’s not a big deal. I like her. She’s incredibly helpful with things like
keeping my life from collapsing around me and sampling all the new cocktails so she can tell me what’s
worth trying. She’s my friend, Quinn. That means I’ll look after her.” She looked around the room.
“Especially if ‘looking after her’ means having Tionese for lunch in a reasonably comfortable café with
the people I like.”
“Plus Quinn,” said Pierce.
“Plus Quinn,” agreed Nalenne. “ – Hey, wait.”
Broonmark and Pierce snickered.
“Remind me to stop trusting you, lieutenant.”
“I’ll get right on that, milord.”
“Look. Quinn. I know you don’t like her, and I know the impropriety of her status bothers you, and if it
were any less important matter I’d take care of it for you. But my ship, my rules, my loved ones.”
“Plus Quinn,” muttered Pierce.
“Vette stays and I’ll treat her as nicely as I like, collar or no collar.”
“Bravo, master,” said Jaesa.
“Back to killing soon?” yawned Broonmark.
“You’re free to wander, big guy. I gotta stay here and make sure nobody messes with my Twi’lek.”
Problem
93. In which Niselle makes Nalenne an offer she can't refuse (I/VII)
This entry and seven-part series contains spoilers for the Sith Inquisitor Belsavis line. Overall class arc
significance has been omitted.
A Knight who has captured a Queen
Should never be too quick to preen.
The final reward
May stand ‘cross a board
More hostile than any he’s seen.
“AGH,” yelled Nalenne.
Vette ran from her quarters and skidded to a halt by the reading nook while ghost-Quinn charged
straight through the wall for the same destination. “What is it?” they said in unison.
“Ultraguy. They did this awesome arc about killing him, and I thought they were going to bring in a new
hero for the cape, but no. They just reconstructed the guy. Brought him right back as if nothing ever
happened. That’s so stupid!”
“My lord…” said Quinn.
“It’s different when I’m doing it, okay? In a comic book it’s just cheap drama. Stars, this kind of thing
drives me nuts.”
“You are defective, my lord,” said Vette.
“Go ‘way,” said Nalenne.
As her crew returned to their spots, Nalenne’s holocommunicator rang. She answered it to find her
sister Niselle.
“Nis,” oozed Nalenne.
“Save it,” said Niselle. “I’m in trouble. I need your help.”
“That’s unusually blunt of you.”
“I don’t. have. time.” said Niselle. “Some Jedi Knight has me, claims he’s going to bring me before his
Council for justice. Andronikos managed to damage the engines on this ship, so we’re stuck for a little
while, but I don’t think my crew can get me out of here alone.”
“Wow, can you send me the trial date? I’ll have to find a way to attend.”
“Very funny.”
“Give me one good reason to help you.”
“Because when I was in trouble, back in the bad old days, I came upon something that could rebuild a
body. Restore what was broken, deteriorating beyond any reasonable expectation of repair. The
machine made entire species once, designing bodies and building them. I believe the AI that runs it may
be able to get your dear captain what he wants.”
Nalenne swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat. “You’re lying.”
“Ask Andronikos. I’ve kept his mouth shut so far, but he was there.” Niselle raised a finger. “Even now,
he won’t give you details until after I’m free.”
“You knew what it could do all this time and you never told me?”
“It was funnier for you not to know, sweetheart.”
“I’ll free you, Nis. I’ll get your machine. And I will kill you.”
“One thing at a time,” drawled Niselle. “Sending coordinates now. Come in strength.”
94. In which Nalenne locates Niselle (II/VII)
An especially vicious Kaleesh
Is safest if kept on a leash.
He’s eager to serve,
To watch and observe,
Then mix his own murder pastiche.
Nalenne rendezvoused with Niselle’s ship at an orbital station near the source of Niselle’s transmission.
Andronikos Revel came on board the Helicarrier, along with the hulking Khem Val and little Talos Drellik.
“Ashara’s minding the ship,” said Andronikos. “Don’t know when those guys are going to recover from
the torpedoes I put in their engines. Let’s go.”
“Where’s the boneface?” asked Nalenne.
“Laughing to himself and trying on selections from Niselle’s armor,” said Andronikos.
“Helpful.”
“He does that every time Niselle might conceivably be in danger.”
“Let’s go pull off a boarding action, eh?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
Andronikos took the Helicarrier’s controls while the crew crowded onto the bridge, straining to spot the
first sign of the Jedi’s crippled transport. Ghost-Quinn kept his eyes on his console while murmuring a
quiet continuous stream of commands to 2V. Nalenne watched the starscape closely. Khem Val watched
Nalenne closely. Jaesa watched Khem Val closely. Talos, when he thought no one was looking, watched
Jaesa closely. Vette and Pierce watched Talos with poorly masked amusement. What Broonmark was
looking at was anyone’s guess.
Quinn did look up once the Jedi ship was in sight. “My lord, do you have any intention whatsoever of
waiting long enough for me to put together a plan?”
“No. I want to smash this.” Closer, and closer. “You realize, Andronikos, you and my sister will die in
every creative way I can think of, all at once, if you’re lying about this machine of yours.”
“Yeah, I figured. It’s real. It’s creepy. It might help. You won’t hear another word about it until Niselle’s
back with me.”
“I don’t see why you’re so keen on helping the likes of her.”
Andronikos set a control lever in place and turned to shoot Quinn a significant look. “You’re one to talk.”
“Fine, then.” She shut up and let him pilot.
“Got access for one of those hangars?” asked Pierce.
“I have a few tricks. They’ll welcome us like one of their own.”
“Automated systems, maybe. The armed guards may disagree.”
“Yeah, well, I have to leave something interesting for us to do once our feet are on deck.”
“Good man,” said Pierce.
But the hangar they slotted themselves into was abandoned. So, strangely, were the hallways. Quinn led
Nalenne and her party on the winding path up to the ship’s command deck. It was a wide open space
with a high window wrapping around a third of it. And there were Rho and Niselle, standing side by side,
looking out the front window to an empty starscape. Niselle was, Nalenne couldn’t help but notice,
bound in shackles. It was a profoundly satisfying sight.
The Jedi turned. “Lord Nalenne,” he said with the same serene smile she remembered from Ord
Mantell. (*) “I thought you might come.”
95. In which Nalenne confronts the Jedi Knight (III/VII)
This seven-part series contains spoilers for the Sith Inquisitor Belsavis line. Overall class arc significance
has been omitted.
Evangelists love to spend days
Sharpening fine turns of phrase:
To trigger remorse,
Or virtue-enforce,
Or point out the errors of ways.
“Not here to chat. Give me my sister.”
Nalenne cased the room. Rho the handsome Mirialan Jedi. And with him: hot Sith Warrior, check.
Crazed-looking Chagrian gunman, check. Cute human with regrettable soul patch, check. Pretty
redheaded Jedi, check. Little astromech droid, check. And four strange Jedi besides. Four.
“Your sister Niselle is wanted for war crimes,” said Rho. “We’re taking her to Coruscant to stand trial
under Republic law.”
“I don’t care what you want her for. She’s coming home with me.”
“I can’t allow that.”
“Want to make it a fight?”
“Are you giving me a choice, Wrath?”
“Sure. Give me Niselle, no fight today.” I’m in a hurry.
“That isn’t a choice at all,” he said with that patented Jedi self-righteous regret.
The battle was different this time. Businesslike. Intense. For once Nalenne had something more than
pride and bloodlust at stake. When she attacked Rho, she dispensed with the stylish flourishes; this fight
was intended to kill, nothing more and nothing less.
Nalenne lost track of time. She lost everything but the burn of muscles, the flow of the Force, the desire
to cut the smile off that smug Jedi’s face. The third factor was by far the most powerful one.
Inconveniently, Rho was a worthy opponent. Well matched. Determined. It was all she could do to keep
him on the defensive half the time. Worst of all, he had as much staying power as she did.
Rho finally broke the flow and backed off. It was enough for Nalenne to scan the battleground. As soon
as she did, she wished she hadn’t.
Rusk and some Jedi had Broonmark facedown on the ground. Scourge, impossibly, had Pierce disarmed
and was holding him in a corner of the command deck. A Jedi had knocked Andronikos out and was
currently dueling Vette; Kira and another Jedi were holding Khem Val at bay while T7-01 ran around
doing something behind him. Talos was doing his best, but one arm was hanging limply at his side. Doc
was still free to move and tend to his comrades. And Quinn…Quinn was nowhere to be seen.
“What the hell is wrong with you people?” she asked. “I can’t bail you all out at once.”
Rho leaped back toward Nalenne and hit her side, hard. She cried out in frustration and pain. He’s
winning. He’s winning again. He’s winning and I’ll never find out what chance Niselle had to offer.
“Hold,” she yelled. “I yield.”
“What?” said Rho.
“What?” said Scourge, Kira, Doc, Pierce, Rusk, Broonmark, Vette, Niselle, and Talos.
“Take me. Just let Niselle go with my people, or else our allies will make you bleed until you’ve forgotten
what the absence of pain is.” As soon as I find some allies who haven’t been beaten up yet. Stars stars
stars must get person with useful information to safety first.
“My lord?” said Vette in a very small voice.
“Arrest me,” said Nalenne. “Or lecture me to death, or whatever it is people like you do to people like
me – it’s not like I’ve ever paid attention to the losing scenario – but let Niselle and my crew go.”
“Did you forget to be Sith when you woke up this morning?” scoffed Niselle.
Don’t remind me. Nalenne’s heart pounded. “That doesn’t matter now, Nis. You know what you’ll owe
him.”
“Is that selflessness I’m seeing?” gloated Rho. “I never thought love could reach you.”
“No moralizing until after I get my end of the deal. Take it or fight.” With an effort she raised her saber
again.
“Lay down your weapon, and your sister and your friends can go free.”
Nalenne swallowed hard and deactivated her lightsaber. She heard Niselle laughing a disdainful silver
laugh behind her. Nalenne surrendered her weapon to Lord Scourge, then turned to face her sister.
“Take care of him.”
“I just might consider it, you poor sap.”
Right, forgot, this only works if Nis stays in a good mood. Is it too late for takebacks?
Rho beckoned, and Scourge and that Chagrian Rusk fell in to either side of Nalenne, escorting her up to
the command deck. Definitely too late for takebacks. “I think there’s hope for you, Nalenne,” said Rho.
“Your love for your sister may be the beginning of your redemption.”
Nalenne blinked. “Wait, who said anything about love for my sister?”
Rho’s smile wavered. “But you just gave yourself up to save her.”
“Screw her, I just needed what she knows to help – “
A calm, almost conversational voice carried from the bridge’s entryway. “Jedi. I would release her if I
were you.”
“Quinn,” said Nalenne.
96. In which Quinn makes demands (IV/VII)
This seven-part series contains spoilers for the Sith Inquisitor Belsavis line. Overall class arc significance
has been omitted.
A villain in search of an in
Must menace in order to win.
A victory speech
Must be earned, each to each,
With power. Just ask Captain Quinn.
Ghost-Quinn stood alone in the doorway and set himself at parade rest, hands folded behind him. “At
the moment two boarding parties are securing access to your ship. I leave it to you to figure out where.
Also, if you’ll check behind you you may notice the destroyer Retribution.”
“You always come through for me, Quinn,” said Nalenne.
Quinn kept his eyes on Rho. “For such a high-value target as yourself, Jedi, I am fully authorized to
destroy this vessel and everyone on it.”
“Wait. I didn’t agree to that plan,” said Nalenne.
“I gave you the chance to make suggestions, my lord. You told me you wanted things smashed.”
“Don’t be foolish,” said Rho, but Nalenne already sensed doubt in him. “Consider my offer. Your Wrath
will survive and receive fair treatment, and your Dark Council member can go free. How is killing us all a
better option?”
“I believe my lord Marr’s exact words when authorizing this operation were ‘the brats and Tython-boy?
Great shades of Marka Ragnos, please, blow that ship up and take a video.’” Quinn cocked his head.
“Fortunately for you, Jedi, I can be satisfied with a lesser objective today.” He looked over at Lord
Scourge. “Incidentally, I would advise taking your hands off her. I rarely lose my temper on the job, but I
am getting close.”
Rusk and Scourge both straightened a little. Neither one released Nalenne’s arms.
“You’ve never seen this guy pissed off, have you?” said Nalenne.
“We do not answer to you, nor to him,” said Scourge calmly.
“Jerk,” said Nalenne.
“When you get to be my age, very few things intimidate you,” said Scourge.
Quinn looked off to one side and spoke a quiet command to someone Nalenne couldn’t see. Then he
faced Rho again. “Boarding party one will arrive here shortly. Release the Wrath.”
“I cannot do that.” Rho looked over at one of the bridge crew. “We’re working on hyperspace
coordinates, right?”
“According to my reports,” said Quinn, “boarding party two has already disabled your hyperdrive.” He
smiled thinly. “Release the Wrath.”
Something impacted on the hull, shaking the whole bridge. Everyone turned to see the Retribution fire a
volley, then two, of saturated blaster cannon bolts.
“Return fire,” said Rho. He extended a cautioning hand toward Quinn. “You know this ship isn’t armed
for this. Listen to me. I’ll surrender myself, just let the crew go. Do we have a deal?”
“There will be no deal. Release the Wrath.”
Another salvo slammed into the ship somewhere above the bridge deck. A few pieces from the ceiling
broke loose, swung, and fell.
“This is a terrible plan, Quinn!” squeaked Nalenne.
“Release the Wrath,” said Quinn, “and you may yet make the escape pods in time. Those are all the
terms I have to offer.”
Rho threw Nalenne a desperate look. “Lord Nalenne. Can’t you reason with him?”
“Are you kidding? He is the reasonable one! Or was.” It would actually be kind of cool to see where he
goes from here, except for the part where we’re all about to die because of it.
Rho shook his head. “Take her, Imperial,” he called. “Everyone, get to the escape pods. Now, you have
what you want. Don’t try to harm my people on our way out.”
“Tick tock, Jedi,” Quinn said calmly. Another cannon volley rocked the ship.
Rusk released Nalenne and bolted alongside Rho. Scourge paused a moment. “Not intimidated,” he said
quietly, “but somewhat impressed.” He handed her her saber, nodded respectfully, and went on his
way. Nalenne trotted to join Niselle and her crew. Quinn reached out as she approached and seemed to
let an expression slip past his guard for a second, but he caught himself and started back toward the
hangar bay. Nalenne and the others followed.
“I wanted to see you tied up, too,” pouted Niselle.
“Run and whine at the same time, sweetie, if you think you can manage it.” Nalenne kept moving.
iamthehoyden: I love how this is progressing. And a big <3 to Scourge, as always
DarthRamette: Great shades of Marka Ragnos...love that line
Scourge paused a moment. “Not intimidated,” he said quietly, “but somewhat impressed.” He handed
her her saber, nodded respectfully, and went on his way.
kabeone: Scourge is both cool and hot even when he is retreating
97. In which two couples discuss (V/VII)
A sister shares feelings and more,
A warm and supportive rapport.
For some, anyway.
For others, let’s say
That the sibling dynamic is poor.
Jaesa was ready with a hyperspace route charted when the party got on board. They cleared the Jedi
transport before the ship exploded entirely, stayed at sublight for a few moments on ghost-Quinn’s
orders, then streaked away.
Quinn prompted 2V to do something at the nav computer. “Video taken,” Quinn murmured. “Ship
blown up. Darth Marr’s objectives met.”
Nalenne faced him. “You know I hate it when you leave me out of the loop on your dramatic-entrance
thing.”
He turned away from the console to face her. “You know I hate it when you throw resources away for a
strategically worthless personal goal, especially a resource as valuable as yourself.”
“I’d do it again.”
He got that stubborn look. “So would I.”
“I love you.”
Quinn hesitated. “This isn’t the time,” he said. Then he turned to Niselle. “My lord, it seems terribly
convenient that you spontaneously developed a reconstruction idea when you needed a bargaining
chip.”
Niselle met his blue eyes with her own bleach-pale ones. “It didn’t occur to me for the longest time,” she
said languidly. “And then I didn’t know whether it would work. I still don’t. But in either case I rather
enjoyed having the knowledge of a hope my sister will never have.”
“Sorry,” Andronikos told Nalenne. “If I’d known earlier how you…how serious it was…but to be honest, I
always kinda figured you two were doomed anyway. More I thought about it, less I thought lifting a
finger to help him would be a plus for anybody.” He scratched his ear. “I was just about coming round
again. With Servant Nine and today and all. But Captain ‘This isn’t the time’ isn’t exactly helping his own
case here.”
“I hardly think you’re in a position to complain about someone being insufficiently demonstrative,” said
Quinn.
“Hey,” said Andronikos. “I could say it. Don’t care who hears it, either.” He looked at Quinn, then
Nalenne.
“I already said it,” said Nalenne, “I’m fine.”
“And I can say it any time I want,” purred Niselle. “Seems the Imperial is the cold one here, but we
already knew that.”
Quinn scowled. “Neither of you has said it at all!”
Niselle and Andronikos exchanged unreadable looks. “After you, Captain Intrepid-Leader-Man,” said
Andronikos.
“I should point out that I diverted a destroyer from its actual assignment to be here for no purpose
other than to assist her,” said Quinn.
“Psht. I diverted Nalenne to help my girl. That’s firepower,” said Andronikos.
“I voluntarily helped my brat sister for my guy,” said Nalenne.
Everyone looked at Niselle.
She shrugged irritably. “I haven’t killed mine yet, have I?”
Andronikos laughed and stroked her head. “That still puts you ahead of some in our present company.”
“So as long as we’re talking about changing the subject,” Nalenne said loudly, “I came here today for
one reason, and it wasn’t to compare devotion checklists with you guys. Nis, we had a deal.”
“And I’ll follow through, Lenny,” said Niselle. “If only because the entertainment value of your throwing
yourself to the flame back there was beyond anything I could have imagined. That was pathetic.”
“It was deeply inadvisable, my lord,” said Quinn.
“Had a certain punch the destroyer lacked,” muttered Andronikos. “But yeah, for a payoff that’s not
even guaranteed? It was royally stupid.”
“Start talking,” said Nalenne.
“Well,” said Niselle, “it was an ancient Rakatan device on Belsavis…”
She described the apparatus: A ‘Mother machine,’ Ashaa, an ancient AI originally designed to create
Force-sensitive species in a Rakatan effort to understand and reverse their loss of the same. Its
biological construction tools had managed to reconstruct Niselle. It might be able to do the same for
Quinn.
It was Andronikos Nalenne smiled at when Niselle finished. “I know she wouldn’t have talked without a
word from you. I owe you.”
“Don’t think I’ll forget it,” grinned Andronikos.
“You owe me, too,” Niselle said petulantly.
“Get your man to ask nicely and I’ll consider it,” said Nalenne.
“I’m calling ahead and telling Ashaa to kill you when you get there.”
“Nis! Okay, fine, I owe you.”
“That’s better.” Niselle struggled a little against the Jedi-crafted shackles binding her wrists behind her
back. “Now is anyone going to untie me?”
98. In which Nalenne and Quinn go to Belsavis (VI/VII)
Rakatans are commonly known
For screwing each ‘slave race’ they ‘own.’
Their old machinations
Doomed species and nations;
Now each struggles onward alone.
Nalenne and Quinn followed Niselle’s directions into the depths of the old Rakatan prison on Belsavis,
well beyond where Republic or Empire had ever established operations.
Niselle’s recommended route ran through every possible frenzied riot on the way. That was intentional,
Nalenne was sure of it.
But in time they reached a high cliff wall with a narrow fissure in it. Within moments of stepping in, the
cave resolved itself into a smooth square stone tunnel. Unfamiliar runes ran along the wall.
“So what are the odds this AI kills us on sight?” said Nalenne.
“Based on previous patterns, a ninety-three per cent chance that it will try, my lord.”
“Well, here’s hoping there’s enough of it left to help you after.”
“Try negotiating first. Please.”
They rounded a corner into a great hall, dimly illuminated by bluish lights here and there. A raised circle
of stone stood in the middle. The edges of both the room and the circle were lined with computer
terminals.
“My lord. A moment,” said Quinn.
“Hmm? What is it?”
“There remains…a great deal that’s better left unsaid. But...I am not unaware of what you have risked
and what you have done for me.”
She turned her attention away from the room’s machinery and fully to Quinn. “It was nothing,” she told
him.
“You always think that. It’s what makes you so dangerous when someone you care for is threatened.”
“And, see, that’s the look I would burn half the galaxy to earn.”
“Don’t!” He straightened up a little more. “I never know when you’re being serious.”
“I would grab a torch right now if I thought it would help. But for you, I’ll behave.”
He shook his head. “It’s like turning an earthquake on and off. Every now and then you do listen to me.”
“Of course I listen. You’re one of mine.”
He considered her for a long moment. “Nalenne, there is a great deal that’s better left unsaid. But I do
love you. And have, and will.”
That feels…weirder than expected. “Yeah,” she said, once her voice started working again. “Yeah, I
figured.”
“I am grateful you didn’t force the issue in front of your sister.”
“Like I would give her the satisfaction. You know she would turn any declaration of love into something
horrible just for fun.”
“I agree, but, ah, you declared it anyway.”
Nalenne grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, well. I was excited.” She turned toward the consoles at the great
raised circle. “Now let’s fix this.” And with that, she picked a button at random and pressed it.
“…why that one, my lord?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Judging by the sudden wave of disapproval, Nalenne guessed that Quinn understood her reasoning.
“I guess I should say now, just in case this thing goes berserk and kills us both, that I love you, too.”
Other buttons around the circle flickered and lit up. And then a holo image formed above the circle.
Heck of an old holoterminal. I gotta get me one of these.
The image that showed up flickered through multiple species before resolving into a Rakata. “Child. I am
Ashaa,” it said in a gentle feminine voice.
“Nalenne, sister of Niselle. You remember her?”
“How could we forget? It was Niselle’s kindness that loosed us from our restraining bonds.”
“Did you just put ‘Niselle’ and ‘kindness’ in the same sentence?”
“Something is wrong here,” muttered Quinn.
Ashaa smiled beatifically. “She called to tell me of your coming. You need my help?”
“Yes, uh.” Nalenne dug out her sample case. “You see this guy here, and how noncorporeal he is. I was
wondering…if you could take Niselle apart piece by piece and put her back together, and you could
generate your own species apparently from scratch or at least just from DNA, can you reassemble him?”
Ashaa considered. “Perhaps. We will require the sample you carry, and to save the pattern for our own
research.”
“Save anything you want.”
Quinn shifted ever so slightly. “Is that…wise, my lord?”
“At worse she uses it to construct a super race of genius tacticians for her own inscrutable purposes.
What could go wrong?”
“I don’t think I need to answer that.”
Nalenne turned back to the hologram. “Just like that? Take DNA and a ghost nobody can figure out, and
you can just…?”
“I am a powerful program, child. And creating life from incomplete beginnings is what I was made to
do.” She looked to Quinn. “Please, child. To the chamber at the top of those stairs.”
Nalenne placed her sample case in a recess that had lit up a couple of consoles over, then ordered
herself to hold back. Quinn looked to her, nodded once in his best stoic-soldier way, then climbed a
steep staircase to a chamber no larger than a stasis cell.
“This will probably work,” said Ashaa, and thrust her hand forward, shooting an impossibly strong arc of
lightning to a contact at the top of the chamber.
Nalenne’s stomach dropped. “Probably?”
The storm scorched the air, shook the floor, flashed a blinding white, and lowered a coruscating column
to hit Quinn. It actually seemed to hit him, as in interact, as in inflict pain.
“UPON CAREFUL CONSIDERATION, I WANT YOU TO STOP DOING THAT.” Nalenne squeezed her fists,
hard, and watched. Quinn fell to his knees, then hands. Still the lightning spat and streamed.
The instant the storm subsided, Nalenne sprinted to his side and knelt. She reached for him and found
solid flesh. She hoped it was flesh. Any other material could get really gross, really fast.
Quinn coughed and struggled to breathe. Nalenne resisted the urge to pull him close; disrupting the first
few breaths he had taken in a year was probably a bad idea. Instead she looked over to Ashaa’s
projection. “I owe you,” she said. “A lot.” Probably, assuming this isn’t one huge mass of cancer or
something.
The figure smiled. “A mother gives to her children without thought for reward. There is nothing you
have that I need. And really, do I look like I have anything better to do with my time?”
“Wow. I won’t argue.”
“Good. Still, one-time deal. It was a toss-up between helping you and throwing you into the Esh-kha
arena for some blood sport, I never did like your species. You’re lucky your sister called ahead.”
99. In which Nalenne and Quinn verify things (VII/VII)
A long wait may batter hope flat
And drive home frustration, at that.
Once free, love’s less aery
And more sublunary,
But let’s not blame John Donne for that.
With some effort, Quinn pushed back up onto his knees. And immediately started tugging at his uniform
collar to make some mystifying adjustment. “I really thought that was going to drive me insane,” he
muttered. “This whole time, I couldn’t fix it.”
“Malavai?” she hazarded.
He seemed briefly surprised to see her there. His hands stayed on his collar. “Nalenne. Does the piping
on this side line up with – “
She slammed into him and kissed him, hard, marveling at his familiar scent and feel and – she checked –
taste. No use wasting time. “If you’re going to argue, make it fast,” she told him, doing her level best to
pull off his uniform while maintaining maximum continuous body contact.
“Ashaa?”
“I can leave,” said the AI, and its image vanished.
“Good,” said Nalenne. “Piping’s definitely not lined up. Any other objections?”
Quinn somehow dismantled the better part of Nalenne’s body armor faster than she herself knew how
to do, a feat made doubly impressive by the fact that he had never had the chance to touch this
particular mass of plates and buckles before. “No.”
“Great. Make it rough.”
*
In time the two of them returned to the Helicarrier. The crew was gathered in the reading nook when
they arrived. Nalenne reached for Quinn’s hand and squeezed while everybody looked up at them.
“Bloody hell,” growled Pierce
“Yes! Pay up,” Jaesa told him, in a tone of supreme satisfaction.
“I knew the death thing was too good to last,” sighed Vette.
“Sith clan is whole,” said Broonmark. “Alas, dumb and all.”
“Welcome home,” said Nalenne, turning to beam at Quinn.
“If you’ll excuse me,” said Quinn. “If I’m returning to live status, I have a great deal of paperwork to do.”
He hurried toward the bridge.
“Malavai. Not yet.”
He turned around and gave her a troubled look.
“I want to talk. You know, about some unsaid stuff that maybe we can say now.”
His gaze flicked toward the bridge and back. “My lord…”
“My quarters. Talking. Now.”
“My lord, I am not yet quite physically ready for one of our traditional arguments.”
It was a moment before Nalenne worked that out. “Oh! We can fight properly now! Um, not right right
now. But in general. Yes!”
Vette made a face. “I am not hearing this.”
“Quiet, you. Malavai, I’ll try to be nice. And I’ll let you go in time to file your stuff before close of
business, Kaas City local time. Okay?”
Quinn raised his eyebrows. “You will?”
“I will. Promise.”
He seemed relieved. “Thank you, my lord. Lead the way.”
Once they were safely sequestered in Nalenne’s quarters, Pierce sighed and slouched. “Vette,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Get our ice cream back to the secret cooler, eh? Otherwise you know the captain’ll be at it within
hours, and probably right back to blaming you.” (*)
“Good thinking.”
Epilogue
100. In which things are no longer normal
The bleeding hearts swear that it’s true,
The whole’s more than all parts can do.
They say to belong
Makes man and group strong…
They clearly weren’t watching this crew.
“You’re settling in okay?”
“It is strange to have to eat and sleep again, my lord. My productivity has plummeted.”
“I could kill you again if you liked it better that way.”
“No! I will adapt to the new work schedule.”
“Good. Don’t you forget the advantages of the mortal coil.”
“I don’t think you would let me, my lord.”
“Mmm, correct.”
*
Pierce stood up from his seat in the mess, stretched, and swung his arms wide. One huge hand impacted
with Quinn’s face. “Oops,” said Pierce. “Keep forgetting you’re actually there.”
Quinn rubbed his nose and scowled. “Your forgetfulness will be noted in your personnel file. The Wrath
has applied for my commission to be restored, you know. I expect that to come through any day now.”
“Maybe you’ll outrank me again, Quinn, but you’ll always be outclassed.”
“Forgetful and delusional. Noted for your file, Lieutenant.”
“Screw off, Captain.”
*
“Vette.”
“Quinny?”
”Stop that.”
“Take it up with the boss.”
“I was going to say, I’ve started work on a project that may interest you, though I regret it already. It’s a
difficult task, but given time, I or one of my contacts may be able to construct something to emulate
your slave collar code long enough to get it off of you.”
“Wow. You would do that for me?”
“Of my own accord? No, of course not. But I am somewhat indebted to the Wrath, and she asked.”
“This…may be the first time I have ever been glad of your existence.”
“You’re lucky she made it a direct order.”
*
Jaesa walked up to Quinn and hugged him, hard.
He stood stock-still. “What are you doing, Jaesa?” he asked coldly.
“Indicating my affection and my happiness that you’re back with us. It’s something humans do.” She
backed off and smiled winsomely. He glared at her. “Things around here are a lot less awful when the
Wrath is happy, you know. And that’s when she’s with you.”
“Don’t tell me about how I’m improving your Jedi life.”
“Of course, captain.”
“One more thing. The holovid nights in the Wrath’s bed will stop.”
“You could join us.”
“You will stay out of her quarters!”
Jaesa only smiled. “That’s the captain I remember.”
*
Broonmark jumped out to block Quinn’s path in the hallway. “Brrroglkgl blorp blogggg.”
Quinn frowned up at him. “I still have no desire whatsoever to understand what you’re saying.”
“He’s saying that if you hurt me again he will rip you limb from limb and find somebody to devour your
soul,” explained Nalenne, coming up behind Quinn.
“I’m going to have to ask the crew to stop making death threats against me. If I am to effectively run the
ship in your absence…”
Nalenne leaned around Quinn. “It’s okay, Broonmark. He hurts me, you kill him.”
“My lord!”
“The problem won’t come up, now will it?”
He seemed about to object some more, but he stopped himself, clenched his jaw, scowled at her. “Of
course not.”
“Thought not. Come on, I came to say the bridge console’s bringing in a job from one of your military
friends.”
They hurried together to read over the assignment. Nalenne laid her hand on Quinn’s as they read, and
he moved to catch her thumb with his. When she finished the briefing and looked up, she found him
simply watching her with the faintest suggestion of a smile.
“Ready, Malavai?”
“Always, my lord.”
- fin -
Parting Notes
And there you have it! Nalenne has finally ejected the undead guy from her life…er, ejected the undead
but welcomed the guy, or something…anyway, she can finally return to the comfortable binary of
"Everybody I know is either dead and out of the way or alive and capable of being killed."
And I finally invented a set of circumstances under which I would allow that snake back onto my ship.
From here, Nalenne’s going back to work, once again driven by a love of violent action and directed by a
strategist who is considerably more level-headed than she is. Will Niselle try to make her life hell? (Yes.)
Will wacky legal complications arise as everybody who ever disliked Quinn attempts to sabotage his
official reintegration into society? (Yes.) Will Pierce be mysterious, Vette be benignly manipulative, Jaesa
be conflicted, and Broonmark be smarter than the people who’ve seen his crazed blood frenzies give
him credit for? (Yes.) Will Jedi Master Rho continue to threaten the cruel ideals of the Empire? (Yes.)
Will Nalenne and Quinn struggle as their mutual admiration seeks to override the frequent
disagreements stemming from the fundamental discord between passion-oriented and responsibilityoriented value systems? (Yes.) But the details of those stories are a concern for another day, if ever.
What matters now is that Nalenne finally got back what she had before that whole mutually botched
murder thing. And Quinn can finally requisition and wear an up-to-date uniform.
You know that expression "I didn’t start out to write a novel, but…"? That’s me. Figured I was biting off
four or five sketches a month ago. Just finished chewing a hundred. It’s been fun!
Thanks for reading, and may the Force free you!
iamthehoyden: /applause
Brava!! Brava!!
Thank you for making a good chunk of my reading time very enjoyable
kabeone: Take a bow! That was incredible.
Earthmama: Standing ovation!! Masterful work! Loved every passage!
DarthRamette: Well done!! I am glad Quinn finally came back in full. Well written, funny to the end. I do
hope you write a sequel.
Soteiriean: This is truly amazing work. I have enjoyed the story development very much. You are an
extremely talented writer.
Adwynyth: A masterpiece! AUTHOR! AUTHOR!
Magdalane: Hate to see this end, but really enjoyed the ride! And, everyone loves a happy ending
Kalterien: Woot, for a mostly happy end. It was definitely a fun read.
Arator: This was some amazing work. I hope to see you write some more stories.
I was really hoping to see a little more in depth with Lenny's relationship with Jaesa. Mostly because
how funny it was to read.
bright_ephemera: Appendix: Alternate Endings
In case you wonder what my creative process looks like, here are some story endings I seriously
considered:






Rocks fall, everyone dies. Including Quinn.
Rocks fall, everyone dies. Except Quinn. This can branch into either “hilarious misadventures of
a ghostly officer returning to traditional duty in the Imperial military” or “the dark and gritty
destruction of a psyche that has lost all hope in this senseless, cruel galaxy.”
Quinn gets re-embodied. Music swells. Choirs of angels sing. Awesome sex is had, followed by a
triumphal walk back toward the ship. On the way out, rocks fall, Quinn dies. (THIS WAS SO
TEMPTING)
Quinn, re-embodied or not, dies from exposure to the proper flame/sunlight/chemicals/Force
effect/lightsaber/water (wow, ‘I’m melting’ would be a great end for
him)/radiation/missiles/discovery of some nonregulation Imperial setup so horrible it destroys
his very soul on sight.
Quinn sticks around forever, author goes slowly insane because I need a sense of resolution at
some point.
Nalenne and Quinn discover a re-embodying solution and develop a portable device for it,
trading off who is alive at any given time during tough ops and using the alternate dead-andinvulnerable/live-and-powerful status for tactical hilarity.

Niselle poaches both Quinn and the Helicarrier, and we transition into a second series wherein
Nalenne and Andronikos team up for mayhem and revenge while Niselle locks Quinn in a closet,
congratulates herself on making Nalenne miserable, and continues on her merry scheming way.
Quinn gets his own story arc about trying to get out of the closet. Childish innuendo ensues.
Nalenne comes to her senses and commences getting it on with Pierce. Every other
consideration in the galaxy becomes irrelevant; series ends or alternately turns into something
I’m not allowed to post here. (Possibly the second most tempting alternate ending. I do love me
some Pierce.)


Niselle poaches both Quinn and the Helicarrier, and we transition into a second series wherein
Nalenne and Andronikos team up for mayhem and revenge while Niselle locks Quinn in a closet,
congratulates herself on making Nalenne miserable, and continues on her merry scheming way.
Quinn gets his own story arc about trying to get out of the closet. Childish innuendo ensues.
 Nalenne comes to her senses and commences getting it on with Pierce. Every other
consideration in the galaxy becomes irrelevant; series ends or alternately turns into something
I’m not allowed to post here. (Possibly the second most tempting alternate ending. I do love me
some Pierce.)
iamthehoyden: I have to say, I really like these two, especially the second one. I don't even have him yet
(my sw is a itty bitty baby) but I loves Pierce.
bright_ephemera: The more I reflect on the long uninterrupted power trip that is the Sith Warrior
storyline, the more I appreciate that Pierce isn't afraid of anything, not even the player character. He
doesn't aggressively come on to you (a nice novelty in itself), but if you're into him he takes it in stride
exactly as if you were, I don't know, an interesting and worthy-of-respect woman demonstrating signs of
being willing to play. He recognizes and likes that you're the one of most powerful Sith in the galaxy, but
the fact doesn't intimidate him in the slightest. And that's awesome.
Quinn is this poisonous addiction - hi, would you like some revulsion to go with your helpless attraction?
- but Pierce strikes me as a (dangerous, self-willed, untameable) playmate. Too bad Nalenne never really
thought of him that way.
iamthehoyden: Gotta love a guy who's sure of himself, hehe. At any rate, maybe someday BW will give
us a more long term option with the body type 3s dripping in confidence, will, and cunning
The most receptive man I ever met was the one who thanked me for my mercy when I told him I was
done flirting.”
MilaniGrey: I found this hysterical, and also kind of creepy. ^ That's YOUR Wrath, and this is MY Wrath. >
http://i.imgur.com/zFWXh.jpg
bright_ephemera: Wagh! It's like my lady mussed her hair and put on some makeup!
This blonde isn't the Warrior I played through, and in fact I don't think I'm going to finish her run (I've
rolled a real Sith Pureblood Nalenne instead); but I did use her for some exhaustive Balmorra
conversations.
(my Warrior for that recording: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nKpFAwVKMic#t=266 )
MilaniGrey: I've been oh-so-tempted to make another female Sith Warrior, but I already have this guy:
http://i.imgur.com/m0g5j.jpg and he's just too pretty to re-roll as a female. That and making another
Sith Warrior would make 3 and also take my last character slot. :P
YukiMatsuda: I'm finding it hard to describe exactly how awesome this story is. I love it!!! At first, when I
read that for story purposes your SW actually killed Quinn, I didn't think I could read the rest of it (I'm
obviously a diehard Quinn fan LOL). But this... it's so perfect! <3
APPENDIX
Supplementary Links
No Death, Only Wrath: The Helicarrier Chronicles:
http://www.swtor.com/community/showthread.php?t=497148

There Is No Death, There Is Only Wrath (NDOW)

Transcription

Similar documents

2016JRRocks Camp

September 2012

June 2014 - TOGCC Corvette Club

August 2012 - TOGCC Corvette Club

2010 Part 2

June 2015 Newsletter - Pierce Distribution

Summer 2015 Newsletter

Joseph Thomas Lynch

For Immediate Release: March 23, 2011

July/August 2013 - City of University Place