Ruth means Compassion: A warrior’s tale

[Kalterien]

Why is it that your last line in the last post seems.. ominous?

[bright_ephemera]

Why is it that your last line in the last post seems.. ominous?

 

...Because you're tragically cynical? :innocent_face:

[bright_ephemera]

Line 1. Homecoming

 

 

 

June, 10 ATC – 13 months before the confirmation of the Wrath

 

 

“Still no word from Nomen Karr’s camp, wherever they are. I’m going to Dromund Kaas to wait.”

 

Vette looked up from her reading. “That’s your first choice for places to go to kill time?”

 

“Yes. It is. You’re invited.”

 

“Uh, yeah. I’ve had about enough sightseeing there, thanks.”

 

“Don’t be so harsh on my home planet.”

 

“Don’t have such a creepy home planet. I haven’t forgotten your Dark Temple.”

 

*

 

Quinn, at least, came down to the planet with Ruth. He stayed quiet on the shuttle ride down, and stayed close but silent as she parted the Force-blind crowds in the spaceport to get out to the broad outer stairway.

 

Quinn stopped there, at the top of the stairs, and took up that taut pose that seemed to take the “rest” out of “parade rest.” His nostrils flared with some deep breath; beyond that he was motionless as he looked to the dark skyscrapers rising over the rain-lashed jungle.

 

She hesitated to interrupt his thoughts, but this seemed off even for him. “Captain?”

 

“The Citadel, my lord,” he said. A lightning flash brought out the blue of his eyes for a fraction of a second. “I’ve been more than ten years in exile…but it is as impressive as I remember.”

 

When she sought further she could feel the longing in him. It didn’t seem like something she was supposed to see. “Welcome home,” she said quietly.

 

“Thank you, my lord.” No expression. He turned very slightly to look at the floor near her feet. “When you need me again, call for me and I will come.” He bowed and strode off toward the taxi stand.

 

*

 

Ruth caught her own taxi to the Kaas City western transit center. There was a long dropoff/pickup curb there, and she stood just outside the shelter of its plasteel roof, letting the rain soak her hair while she waited for her father’s shuttle. Kaas City had a smell like nothing else: rain, durasteel, ozone, and ashes, all heightened by some indefinable energy. She loved it.

 

The shuttle with her father’s license markings finally landed, and Ruth bounded to climb inside. Colran Niral leaned out to offer her a hand in and, laughing, closed the door against the rain.

 

They faced each other across the cabin: Ruth, slim, no taller than the average woman, her short brown hair robbed of its slight natural wave by the soaking rain; her eyes were the blue of a mostly sunny day, and she wore an unremarkable-looking variant on an Imperial military uniform. Colran, rail-thin, of average height himself, his straight black hair falling about his long face; his eyes were a muted grey, his Sith robes grey and red. There was little resemblance between father and daughter except in something of the shape of the nose and ears.

 

“I have been dying to talk to you,” she started.

 

“No doubt,” he said warmly. “And I to you. Do remember you can contact me if it’s an emergency.”

 

“I know. It hasn’t been so far, so…comm silence it was.”

 

Colran nodded. “So long as Baras is your master, it’s safest for both of us if we minimize the communications he gets the chance to intercept.”

 

“He seems to be as cunning as you said. Almost insane in the level of scheming.”

 

“Sane or not, it’s effective. I only know him by reputation and results, but that’s enough to…well. I’d like to pick apart everything he’s ever said to you, but first things first. How are you?”

 

“I’m good. I’m really good. The last few months have been exciting. I’ve learned a lot. Done some great things out there. Done some other things I’m not so happy with, but I’m figuring out how to minimize the damage of my orders.”

 

“That’s a balance all Sith have to strike if they care about the damage at all.” He leaned forward and clasped her hand. “Do what it takes to maintain your position. You can’t help anybody after you’ve been executed for failing your master.”

 

“I know. The day will come when that inevitable servant/master thing will come up, though, and then I’ll be free of his commands. I’m getting stronger every day.”

 

“I know. Don’t rush it, please. Baras is powerful.”

 

“I know. I’m watching him.”

 

Colran nodded. “So tell me about your ship. Tell me about your team.”

 

She chattered for a while while her father led her on with questions. Eventually the shuttle came to rest in a small hangar of an estate in the jungle; Colran gave Ruth a hand down from the shuttle, even though she didn’t need it, and conducted her inside.

 

“It sounds like you have a promising pair to work with,” said Colran. “Earn their love and you’ll be well protected.”

 

“‘Love’ is too serious for Vette. She’s a friend, though. Our only real trouble is maintaining Sith Lord dignity while people are around.”

 

“A Sith Lord can laugh with a slave if she wants. Though higher-ranking Sith may not appreciate the joke.”

 

“That’s true. As for the captain, again, ‘love’ isn’t the word. But I can reason with him, and we get results together. We both respect that. We’re in it for the Empire, and that goes a long way.”

 

Colran smiled fondly. “Remember what I said. A greater cause is the single most reliable bond any two people can ever have. Or any group of people, of course.”

 

She nodded. “With him backing me up there’s nothing we can’t do. You should see him in action, he’s…I’ve got a good team.”

 

His stifled exhalation might have been a laugh. “Good. You’ll need it for what’s to come.”

 

“I know. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

 

“Just be careful about it. And look after your people.”

 

“Always.”

 

[bright_ephemera]

Line 2. Homewrecking

 

 

 

June, 12 ATC – three weeks before the confirmation of the Wrath

 

 

Ruth spent a solid forty-eight hours working, beginning a drive against Baras’s agents on Corellia, before she gave in to the desire for answers back on the ship.

 

The cargo bay was pitch dark when she opened the door. Only the smell of sour sweat suggested anyone was in there. She turned on the light to find Quinn looking up at her. He was beaten, still bloody, and twisted in the attempt to lie down with his forearms bound tightly behind his back. He had taken additional damage since she had seen him last. Pierce's tender handling, no doubt, and no more than Quinn deserved.

 

“Can you stand?” she said.

 

He nodded once and commenced the effort. Most movements, and there were quite a few involved in standing without the use of his arms, looked painful for him. It both hurt and pleased her.

 

“Have you been fed?"

 

He nodded. "Jaesa's been bringing rations." His voice was oddly raspy.

 

Of course she would. Ruth came around to undo Quinn’s bonds. He stretched his arms out and winced at the effort.

 

A pause.

 

"I don't suppose it would help to express my regret again," he said.

 

"Your regret will be the main topic of the rest of your life. If you want to say the words, feel free. Now we’re going to talk, but I won’t have this smell for it. Return to your quarters. Wash up. Touch a console on the way and you’re a dead man. Meet me in the conference room when you're ready."

 

He nodded smartly. "Yes, my lord."

 

The slave collar was still on the conference room table where Vette had left it. Ruth wasn’t sure why she had decided to keep it in the first place, but it would be useful now.

 

She paced along one wall, letting her emotions boil. Shoulders back, head high, hands behind her back. And, most importantly, a stiff upper lip. She had every advantage. She would not falter.

 

Quinn showed up only a couple of minutes later, freshly washed, combed, and immaculate in his uniform.

 

"Hello," she said.

 

"My lord." They faced each other, standing at parade rest at opposite ends of the room.

 

"Do you understand why you're still alive?"

 

"You indicated that you require information, my lord." He tilted his head ever so slightly. "I also believe you are not yet prepared to kill me. It goes against what you are."

 

"True.” She hated that he knew that. “But you were prepared to kill me. Congratulations, you've got less heart than a Sith Lord. No wonder Baras valued you so highly." She hesitated. He just watched her, expressionless. "Stars, you should've been the Sith, not me.” She found herself reaching out to touch the slave collar. “Start from the beginning. Baras salvaged your career after the Battle of Druckenwell. Secured you an assignment on Balmorra - no plum job, but it was a place where you could exercise your talents for the Empire and be Baras's eyes and ears. Yes?"

 

"Yes, my lord."

 

"When did he decide to assign you to me?"

 

"The moment he sent you, my lord. He forwarded me your dossier before you stepped onto Balmorra.”

 

"And then he told you to leave with me."

 

"He wanted a close eye on you. Reports on your activities, your day-to-day attitudes. The details of your problem-solving methods. I jumped at the opportunity - to be off Balmorra, making a difference with one of Darth Baras's most effective agents? It was an assignment such as most officers can only dream of.” He paused, frowned, calmed his face.

 

“Continue.”

 

“My lord, reporting your progress soon became a thing of pride. Your dedication, strength, resourcefulness, efficiency...your methods may be unusual, but it was a pleasure to work with you and to ensure that Baras was fully apprised of your accomplishments."

 

She folded her hands behind her and watched.

 

Quinn looked off to one side. "I didn't want to get involved. I always knew the day might come when I would have to remove you. This is a given when you work for a Sith lord. It took a long time to accept that your loyalty was as true as mine. We served the same master, the same cause. There was nothing we couldn't do together."

 

"Yes, I remember that phrasing."

 

He shut his eyes. "You must understand how fortunate I counted myself. To have this mission, this purpose...and the devotion of this woman." His looked to her, the clean dark blue of his eyes painful to behold. "I fell in lo-"

 

"No," she snapped.

 

"As you wish, my lord. What we were doing for the Empire, for Baras, it was true. It was right. When Baras’s order regarding you came down, I could not ignore him. I continued to report your whereabouts. The identity of your new handlers."

 

"You helped Draahg track me down."

 

"Yes."

 

"Why didn't you make a direct attempt earlier?"

 

"My cover was still useful. To watch you, to watch the Hand and Voice especially. The agent blocked any move on Voss. After that, I could not risk revealing myself until I could be sure that you could be disposed of discreetly."

 

"You've wanted to kill me since that ambush on Quesh."

 

"I didn't want to kill you at all, my lord." How calm a statement it was.

 

"I assumed when you asked to marry me that your loyalties would lie with me from then on. You know I serve the Empire's good, above any one Darth's personal ambitions. I thought it was what you wanted."

 

"I never thought I would have to make that choice. But when the time came...I had a debt."

 

She took a deep and shaky breath. "Very well. I appreciate you appearing to be honest about the direct questions I know to ask you. I think this is progress.” Heat stung behind her eyes. No, she had to control herself. “As for your immediate future. You’ve never seen me angry for more than a few minutes at a time, so this should be instructive for you. If I recall what I observed in my Academy days, I can keep you alive and somewhat lucid for the first ten or twenty punishments I can think of.” She walked slowly, taking up the slave collar, approaching him. “I can reach into your mind and force you to tell me about the medical solutions that would prolong your life even further.” The prospect felt good. She hated that it felt good. She stood before him and reached up with one hand to push the hair away from the back of his neck. “Did you not understand what strength I could have turned on you, but chose not to?” Raise the slave collar into place, move in close, face turned up to him. His breath was warm. His fear was ice-cold. It wouldn’t take much to push everything aside and turn this into a kiss.

 

She clamped the collar down. It hissed, hooked.

 

She forced herself to stay slow and deliberate in backing away. “You will stay on the ship. You’ll submit to being locked up at the order of any of the crew. They all have permission to strike you down if you misbehave or attempt to use a console or holotransmitter, but out of respect for all we’ve shared I’ve asked Pierce to actually wait for a new infraction before executing you. Consider your future, Quinn. You don’t have a whole lot of it left, but you can make it minimally painful.”

 

“My lord,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be. Your failure was a matter of poor planning and inferior strength, that’s all. You served as Sith do. Now I shall exact the price of failure, as Sith do.” Words and more words, but she couldn’t even begin to express her rage. She pressed the shock button. The collar crackled into action. She had seen its like used before: flashing arcs, first just around his neck, then leaping around his hair and shoulders, his chest. Quinn’s mouth opened, just a little, but he did not cry out. She was tempted to hold on until he did.

 

But just watching his small involuntary tics sickened her. She released and moved on to the last weapon she had in hand. “One more detail before you’re dismissed,” she said. “Something I discovered just a couple of days ago. I’m carrying your child.”

 

His pale face flushed. “My lord...”

 

“My love,” she said mockingly. “Congratulations on the good news.”

 

“If I had known….”

 

“You’d have done the same thing. Play your part to the end, like the dutiful monster you are. I’d have spared you the knowledge, but I want you to understand what you threw away.” She turned away. “I leave you to meditate on your happy fatherhood. I have work to do.”

 

 

Edited September 6, 2012 by bright_ephemera

[bright_ephemera]

Line 3. Homemaking

 

 

 

February, 28 ATC – 16.5 years after the confirmation of the Wrath

 

Ruth curled up in her quarters and took out the little datacube that held the whole of her parents’ correspondence. It was a gift Jaesa had put together about a year previously: the huge volume of letters that Lord Colran Niral had exchanged with Dolarra Reyne (later Niral) from shortly after they met to just before Dolarra died, back when Ruth was four years old. Ruth liked to review them from time to time.

 

Dearest Dolarra,

 

I give up. I have no idea what goes into setting up a nursery. I’m pretty sure the consultant who was recommending custom ‘burping fittings’ for the nursery droid was just making expensive stuff up. I was the youngest child, I never got to observe these things after I outgrew my own crib…it’s one, big, inexplicably pricey mystery.

 

I’ll put together two or three possible setup ideas, anyway, so you won’t have to start from scratch in considering all this when you get home.

 

Any word on when your department transfer will go through? I’ll feel better when you’re a Fixer doing things from HQ, or at least from wholly controlled outposts. The baby will appreciate it, too. I’m sure you’ll reapply for a Cipher assignment the moment you’re back on your feet, but…well, first things first.

 

At Minder One's request, I visited Program Complex Three again recently, playing tour guide and ranking Sith Lord to another Sith who took interest in the children. And blocking his efforts to steal some away. The Intelligence managers don't always have that power to stop that nonsense, but I do.

 

I don't want to know what most Sith would do with the brilliant young results of this program. They are such strange solemn children, uniformly pale, dark-haired, and quiet, but they still respond to smiles and kind words like anybody would. I suppose your future Watchers are here. In a few years they'll be looking down their noses and analyzing my statistical something or other to six degrees of precision before I so much as say hello. I'm just doing my part to keep them safe long enough to grow into that.

 

Home is quiet without you. The lilies are in bloom, Lara, and on nights like this, when the clouds break here and there, they look up at the stars. I’m thinking of you always.

 

- Colran

 

Ruth took a little while to think about the gardens back at home, the lilies Colran had prized so, the nursery she had cleaned up and re-furnished on her own for Rylon because there had been nobody left to help her with it. Then she shook her head and passed through the ship’s halls, empty but for herself, to return to the bridge. She had work to do.

 

Edited August 5, 2012 by bright_ephemera

[kabeone]

So alternately and

 

I do wonder if Quinn would have chosen differently had he known about Rylon. I don't think so but I still have issues with Quinn.

Edited August 5, 2012 by kabeone

[bright_ephemera]

So alternately and

 

I do wonder if Quinn would have chosen differently had he known about Rylon. I don't think so but I still have issues with Quinn.

 

Oh, I think he would have done exactly the same thing, he just would've felt sorrier for himself while he was at it. THIS IS HOW MUCH SYMPATHY I HAVE FOR QUINN AT THIS POINT IN HIS CAREER:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(I can't actually fit all the nothing in one post, so I'll just let you imagine the rest of it from here.)

 

A note on something Quinn said: I knew 'the agent' Wynston would work with Ruth on Voss long before I thought through what plans Quinn must have been making at the time. There would've been some pressing reasons for Quinn to stop her then - namely, Baras would've wanted the Voice kept confined - but Wynston was there with them in the field and would've made tragic accidents impossible to arrange. Just another turn in their long game of screwing with each other's goals, intentionally or otherwise. Those boys practically write themselves.

 

As for Colran's letter, I'm of the 'Quinn is totally some kind of genetic experiment' camp, though even if Colran had met him they would have no reason to remember one another. I can see Colran gladly using his Sith status to help shield Intelligence's eugenics program from grasping Sith Lords. There are kids at risk. He would talk Darth Jadus or whoever out of taking the program into direct Sith control, watch young Quinn and Future Watcher Two and co. for a little while, then walk away hoping that his and Cipher Fourteen's kid will have slightly more personality.

Edited August 5, 2012 by bright_ephemera

[kabeone]

As for Colran's letter, I'm of the 'Quinn is totally some kind of genetic experiment' camp, though even if Colran had met him they would have no reason to remember one another. I can see Colran gladly using his Sith status to help shield Intelligence's eugenics program from grasping Sith Lords. There are kids at risk. He would talk Darth Jadus or whoever out of taking the program into direct Sith control, watch young Quinn and Future Watcher Two and co. for a little while, then walk away hoping that his and Cipher Fourteen's kid will have slightly more personality.

 

I agree that Quinn's differently-abled but I think he was part of the control group against the genetically enhanced experiments and the genetics group won. They could never train out that whole "flare for the dramatic" thing

[bright_ephemera]

I agree that Quinn's differently-abled but I think he was part of the control group against the genetically enhanced experiments and the genetics group won. They could never train out that whole "flare for the dramatic" thing

 

Oh, and I hope they never do.

 

I figured Quinn was in the main eugenics line, but the target traits don't always take. He simply didn't end up with the brain power necessary for the Watchers. These rejects can still do well as analysts in the military - I mean, they're still well above average - but it pleases me to think that Quinn was a failure from the day he was born.

[irishfino]

but it pleases me to think that Quinn was a failure from the day he was born.

 

I'm sensing great anger...

[bright_ephemera]

I'm sensing great anger...

 

Oh, yes.

 

I really, really hate that the natural, reflexive "f*** that guy" only plays into his hands. Damn your literal meaning, you horrible, versatile word.

[bright_ephemera]

Line 1. Sowing mercy

 

 

June, 10 ATC – 13 months before the confirmation of the Wrath

 

 

Ruth gathered her crew – all two of them – in the holo room to view the recorded message that had come in while they were out on errands.

 

A pretty girl in plain Jedi robes appeared. “Sith,” she said, “I’m Jaesa Wilsaam.”

 

Seeing the face of Baras’ target abruptly hammered home the murders Ruth had committed to draw her attention. She reminded herself that it had been necessary, and Jaesa remained an active threat. A person, sure, but an active threat.

 

“My Master, Nomen Karr, has no idea I’m sending this message. Let’s be real – we both know this isn’t about us. Our masters pretend otherwise, but this is personal. You and I are only pawns in their private war. And those I care about are caught in the middle. It has to stop.”

 

“Wow,” said Vette. “I gotta give it to her, she sure has guts.”

 

“That she does,” said Ruth. It was cause for respect.

 

“I appreciate directness. Your brutal actions have my attention, but this indirect foolishness is intolerable. This message includes coordinates where I’ll be waiting in my ship. Let’s discuss this face to face. No more nonsense.” The message ended.

 

It wasn’t the lead Ruth was expecting. It was even better. “Thoughts?” she prompted.

 

“It may be a trap, my lord,” said Quinn. “Nomen Karr may have put her up to it.”

 

“Hey, don’t listen to Captain Paranoid here,” said Vette. “I don’t think it’s a trap. She sounds real.”

 

Ruth could hope, but she was more inclined toward the trap idea. Still. It could turn up something useful. “We’ll go. Just be ready to defend ourselves.”

 

*

 

There was in fact a ship at the designated coordinates, and it let her dock. Naturally, two Jedi awaited Ruth in the airlock. Naturally they were total, unfriendly-looking strangers.

 

A sour-looking redhead addressed his partner. “Well, well, we’re going to have to thank Nomen Karr after all. The Sith showed.”

 

“I have an appointment,” offered Ruth cheerfully.

 

“Stand down, Sith,” said the other Jedi, a tall dark-skinned man. “The padawan you seek is not here. Master Karr has convinced her to remain in safety.”

 

“That’s a pity. She might have learned something.”

 

“A pity for you, too,” said the redhead. “You were expecting one lowly little padawan to crush, and instead you get us.”

 

“You people and crushing,” said Ruth. “I know Jedi are infamous for putting words in other people’s mouths, but really, couldn’t you choose more original words?”

 

Vette, behind her, stifled a giggle. The Jedi exchanged uncertain looks.

 

“I am Ulldin,” said the tall man, “and this is Zylixx. We are fully trained Jedi Knights and more than your match. You should submit.”

 

“Of course,” said the redheaded Zylixx, “we have yet to encounter a Sith who had the sense to surrender. You all seem bent on having us destroy you.”

 

Aggression in this one, she thought. He’s halfway to living a little, I think…but also halfway to getting himself killed.

 

“My quarrel is not with you,” she said. “Let’s just go our separate ways.”

 

“And we would agree to just let you go…why?” said Zylixx.

 

Ulldin raised a cautioning hand. “This Sith hasn’t engaged like all the others we’ve met. If she isn’t trying to fight…”

 

“No,” snapped Zylixx. “She’ll keep hunting Nomen Karr and his padawan. We must end the threat for good.”

 

Ah, time for her favorite reversal. “True Jedi don’t attack to kill, friend,” she said innocently. “The light side demands temperance.”

 

“Who are you to lecture about the light side? The Sith force us to take measures like this!”

 

Ulldin spoke up. “You pose an exception, Sith. Your vile attempts to hurt Nomen Karr and Jaesa Wilsaam are provocation enough.”

 

No. No, the tall man was supposed to be the steady Jedi here. “You seem desperate to justify a fight,” she told him.

 

“That’s enough out of you!” yelled Zylixx. “It’s time to end this.”

 

“No,” said Ulldin. “I’m not sure. Master Karr claims this Sith means Jaesa harm, but...we have no proof.” Yes. Save yourself. And remember it was no code-blind Jedi who made peace this time.

 

“Master Karr’s word is proof enough. And she is Sith; it’s safe to assume she means no good.”

 

“That’s an assumption I cannot make, my friend,” said Ulldin. “I will not engage. I must walk away, and I urge you to do the same.” Then he retreated. He actually walked away, back into the ship.

 

“You may have fooled him, but your luck ends here,” snarled Zylixx. Heedless of the odds, he attacked.

 

“Subdue,” she ordered her own people, and leaped to engage. Quinn and Vette fanned out a little, enough to get clear angles of attack. The Jedi was good, and passionate, but not good or passionate enough. She slammed him to the ground before too long and kicked the lightsaber from his hands.

 

“I yield,” he yelped, fury hot in his voice. “Damn Ulldin for abandoning me. I yield, Sith.”

 

“Were you really surprised that a slave to the Code would prove unreliable for his own friends?”

 

“You’re right,” he growled. “And it’s maddening. But your strength…is there such power in the Dark Side?”

 

“There’s power in freedom, I’ll say that much.” She smiled as she deactivated her sabers. “And in all your passions, light and dark. I leave you to ponder your future, friend.”

 

Quinn closed in formation as Ruth headed back to the ship. “Was it wise to let him live, my lord?” he said softly.

 

“In his state? Oh, yes. He’ll go home a changed man. Weakened, according to his peers. Ripe with doubt. It will never be enough to kill Jedi as they come, Quinn. We must break their chains and let them destroy their own order.”

 

“Whatever doubts they have, they still fight us.”

 

“That one won’t. And his friend will hesitate. Perhaps avoid future battles. Perhaps reflect and begin to see the beauty of shadows.”

 

“Your methods are…unorthodox.”

 

“There’s more than one way to win a war, captain.”

 

He tilted his head and didn’t say anything. But he seemed satisfied.

 

 

[bright_ephemera]

Line 2. Ruth lectures about mercy

 

 

July, 11 ATC – two weeks before the confirmation of the Wrath

 

High orbit over Corellia

 

 

Weakness drew Ruth back to Quinn’s quarters. She knocked once and let herself in.

 

He bolted upright. “My lord.” He looked all right; bruised here and there, but Ruth had told Pierce and Broonmark to lay off the actual bone-breaking and had permitted some medical treatment. She couldn’t bring herself to execute the various tortures she kept thinking of, but Quinn still wasn’t living comfortably. The shock collar saw to that.

 

“Sit.” She settled on the railing opposite the bunk. “I was just thinking. Here you are, all sad because you failed to kill me and now your master rejects you. And I thought, you might be able to redeem yourself by listening around the ship, putting together what you know of my conversations and movements, divining my plans, sending that information to your master, and then using your position here to finally kill me like you were supposed to.”

 

She watched him closely. At length he spoke: “The thought had occurred to me, my lord.”

 

He wasn’t stupid enough to lie. Good. “Do you want to do it?”

 

“What I want is immaterial at this point.”

 

“So you figured out that much. What’s holding you back? Locked doors, collars, even Pierce watching for an excuse to kill you, all that wouldn’t stop you. Is it only the fear that Baras will punish you for your delay?”

 

“No, my lord.”

 

“What’s driving you? The notion that he’s good for something? The belief that the Servants and my role as Wrath are somehow false or bad for the Empire? Is it Baras’s virtue or my inferiority that brought you to this?”

 

“Baras is a patriot, a powerful man, a man to whom I owe a great deal. He brings order. Efficiency. He knows how to use both cunning and force to resolve a situation. Within the Sith order he is an unparalleled general. What have your Servants done? What has the Emperor done but lend some shadow of fear with his name? The Emperor is distant, faceless, useless in battle. Baras is here. Now. Effective. Worthy of respect.”

 

“An effective general uses his best people. He doesn’t move up the expiration date out of paranoia.”

 

“He had his reasons. I merely serve.”

 

“And you thought he was more worth serving than me?”

 

“My lord,” he said, pained. “Your intentions are admirable, but you have enough weaknesses for me to question.”

 

She watched him.

 

“You’ve done well. But your inexperience will lead you to ruin, and there is one habit in particular that you seem determined to cling to until it destroys you. You keep thinking a talking-to will neutralize your enemies. You subdue them but then let them go – always with some flimsy cover excuse, but those excuses always rang hollow. Mercy for one, for fifty, for a hundred – how many did you simply release? Enemies, my lord. Not innocents. What was the purpose?”

 

There was a question he had flicked at the edges of but had never dared to directly press in all their time together. “Life, Quinn. Life creates the Force, makes the galaxy vibrant, makes it sing. It gives us our powers. To kill is to diminish it. Let the enemy be broken. Let them be demoralized. But don’t kill in cold blood, not when there is another way.” His confusion was writ clear on his face. “Have I not served the Empire? Have I not given us spies, allies, grateful communities to annex, Jedi turned from the fold to a middle way?”

 

“You have accomplished much. But too often you have allowed powerful enemies to go free.”

 

“I cannot enjoy death. Even when it seems the most expedient way.” At least, she used to think so. Even as she said it she considered, again, just ending him, on the grounds that the Force contribution of a bastard like that couldn’t possibly be that great. Kill him and then rescue a venomous snake somewhere; it would balance out. Instead she sighed. “We never talked like this before.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Does it disturb you?”

 

“It…explains a great deal, my lord.”

 

He still couldn’t understand. Abruptly she felt sick. She stood to leave.

 

“Do you realize,” he asked without looking at her, “what you could be if you set aside those ideals and truly served?”

 

“Yes. I would be a monster, and the Empire I served would not be one worth living in.” She stepped into the doorway. “I have to go. A lot of killing to do today, I don’t think there’s another solution this time. I hope that makes you happy.” He just looked at her. She took out the shock collar remote and, holding his gaze, deliberately pressed the button. She held it down while she spoke. “Wait, that last part was a lie.”

 

The spitting, arcing shock went on for some time. He never cried out during these sessions. She hated that strength of will. When she was almost as disgusted with herself as with him, she released, locked the door behind her, and hurried away.

 

 

 

Edited August 6, 2012 by bright_ephemera

[bright_ephemera]

Line 3. Ruth is lectured about mercy

 

 

March, 28 ATC – 16.5 years after the confirmation of the Wrath

 

 

The incoming holocall was tagged Darnek Amun.

 

Ruth’s stomach lurched. She was home alone between meetings. Quinn was out in the field; she had the place to herself. Nervously she accepted the call.

 

The figure that came up wasn’t Wynston. It was a handsome redheaded human with big green eyes and a fashion sense that might have been tolerable somewhere in Republic space, she couldn’t be sure.

 

“My lord Wrath,” he said, “thank you for taking my call. Do you remember where we danced on Nar Shaddaa?”

 

She blinked. What? Oh, but Darnek was supposed to be Wynston’s name. Wynston, last she had seen, had had a device that had changed his appearance…and here, Darnek with an unfamiliar face was asking obscure trivia from Ruth and Wynston’s shared past. ”The Shining Star casino,” she said.

 

“Anything for me?” he prompted. Identity confirmation.

 

“Do you remember who we worked for on Dromund Kaas?”

 

“Obscure question, my lord. You’re lucky I have a good memory. That was Lord Drowl.”

 

“You look good, Darnek,” she observed.

 

“Don’t I, though? And, transmission secure. Now that that’s up, please, just call me Wynston. The other names are mostly for routing holocalls and the like.”

 

“I see. Wynston. What’s going on?”

 

“I wanted to talk. Please don’t hang up on me, because there’s a kill order on you unless you and I can reach an understanding in this conversation.”

 

So he was opening with threatening posturing. Brilliant. “Wow. I bet you say that to all the girls.”

 

“Only the ones I care about. Now, you remember what I talked about on Nar Shaddaa?”

 

“Quite clearly.”

 

“Do you remember the part where you didn’t even seem to care about your own husband and son being killed by your boss?”

 

“Yes,” she said cautiously. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

 

“That’s the point. What if I told you we know that the Emperor can lay short-term compulsions, and if he has contact he can override every reservation you’ve got for a specific task?”

 

“I would say that’s an interesting story.”

 

“I think he’s doing it to you to reach Larr Gith. And I don’t know where he’s going to stop.”

 

She shook her head. “If the Emperor feels like I need an extra layer of motivation to do my job, I don’t see how I’m supposed to argue.”

 

“Your job is threatening us all.”

 

“I don’t know that.”

 

“I do. I’ve been a lot of places the last few years, and I’ve seen a lot of strange things, and I believe the person who told me about the Emperor’s plan was telling the truth. I believe the Emperor will make an effort to destroy all life in the galaxy to maximize his own power. I believe you, and I, and everyone we love, will die, if we don’t stop him. And I believe Larr Gith is the best chance we have at doing so.”

 

“That’s a lot for me to take on faith from a man whose only contact in the last decade or so has been to try to kill me.”

 

“Try? I could’ve done it. I’m fond of you, but not fond enough to let you live if I thought you couldn’t see reason. Even if you’re not one hundred per cent sure about my claims, are you really willing to risk the galaxy for it?”

 

“This falls a little outside the scope of my job.”

 

“Screw your job. I thought you were interested in helping people.”

 

“I am,” she bristled.

 

“Like who. What has been your contribution to the wellbeing of your fellow sentients lately?”

 

“Multiple kills on Republic targets.”

 

“That’s exactly the opposite of contributing to wellbeing, Ruth.”

 

“It hastens the end of the war, and that’s what matters. I’ve helped General Quinn take several objectives.”

 

“Bloodily. No wellbeing.”

 

“I’ve…I take care of my son.”

 

“Who spends his time depopulating Korriban Academy. But, you do provide for him. Bravo. What else do you have? For that matter, when’s the last time you so much as talked to a friend of yours who isn’t named Quinn or Rylon?”

 

“I spoke with Jaesa a few months back. Look, I don’t know what you’re getting at, but I don’t like your tone.”

 

“I’m getting at the fact that in your pursuit of a career as Wrath you’ve become a piss-poor human being. I’ve seen your campaigns. For a while you avoided collateral damage, at least; nowadays you scarcely seem to notice that either. So tell me, are you the Ruth I could call a friend, or are you the Wrath I have to kill?”

 

“I’m Ruth. I’ve always been Ruth.”

 

“You’re close to losing it. Any time you’re not actively murdering something you’re hiding away in your own little bubble with only Captain Cardboard for company. Nobody cares if he remains a two-dimensional drone, but you…you were somebody. You can be so much more.”

 

She crossed her arms. “Nice sermon. I liked you better when you were just trying to sleep with me.”

 

“I liked you better when you weren’t the Emperor’s puppet.”

 

She swallowed hard. It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t like that at all. She was…she was involved, somewhere, with something good. She was. “You seemed fine with the Wrath for the first few years,” she said resentfully.

 

“Back then you knew how to live with both his orders and constructive efforts. That’s no longer happening.”

 

“Ergo you want me to go cuddle up with a Jedi I have direct orders against?”

 

“Ergo you must at least step aside. Larr Gith and her team must continue.”

 

Her heart sank. “Even if believed you, and even if I wanted to get out of the way to let you have your galaxy-saving adventure. He’ll just command me again. If it’s a compulsion like you say, I couldn’t stop myself.”

 

“You might be able to,” he said. “There may be a way. But you’ll have to trust me.”

 

“We’re not that close anymore, Wynston.”

 

“You’re not that close to anything anymore, Ruth. That’s your problem. Do you at least believe I care about you?”

 

“No.”

 

He looked genuinely wounded. Wynston never let slip an expression he didn’t want seen, but even knowing that, she felt a quick tug of the heartstrings. She thought about the Emperor’s malevolent presence, about Rylon, about the delusions of decency she used to have.

 

“Still,” she said, “I’m willing to hear more. What’s the plan?”

 

“For now? I hang up, you stop chasing Larr, Larr’s people don’t chase you. I’ll call you when I have what we need on this end to arrange a meeting to discuss a resistance method. It should be soon.”

 

“And if the Emperor sends for me before then?”

 

He smiled crookedly. “I’ll keep the tranq gun loaded.”

 

 

 

Notes:

 

 

I’m shamelessly downgrading the Emperor because I find zero satisfaction in a story that involves “Then he waved his magic wand and MIND CONTROL, no saving throw, no expiration date.” I’ll cede the Emperor some toys and a lot of short-range and/or short-term control, but I require moral agency in my stories, and that means he'll just have to rely on persuasion and despair like the rest of us for his long-term plays. So there.

 

 

[Adwynyth]

So there.

 

You forgot the "nyah" and the part where you stick out your tongue.

[kabeone]

Line 3. Ruth is lectured about mercy Notes:

 

 

I’m shamelessly downgrading the Emperor because I find zero satisfaction in a story that involves “Then he waved his magic wand and MIND CONTROL, no saving throw, no expiration date.” I’ll cede the Emperor some toys and a lot of short-range and/or short-term control, but I require moral agency in my stories, and that means he'll just have to rely on persuasion and despair like the rest of us for his long-term plays. So there.

 

 

 

It's kind of funny, but from what I've interpreted from the Revan novel, Mind Control is really the Emperor's only true schtick. It's his defining characteristic. Without it he would never have gotten to this point in the first place and Revan would be making snuggle bunnies with Bastille. Everything else he's got is pretty average which is why when you remove the schtick he can be whupped on just like anyone else. (well like anyone else with a crap ton of stolen power).

 

I think as game players we really don't like it when we can't control our characters. It's why we hate stun and fear mechanics and chapter 2 of the agent quest line and 'hello I'd like to kill that handsome captain over there... no? '.

 

 

 

I'm really enjoying the Ruth stories it's awesome to see you write a completely different character from Nalene.

[bright_ephemera]

 

It's kind of funny, but from what I've interpreted from the Revan novel, Mind Control is really the Emperor's only true schtick. It's his defining characteristic. Without it he would never have gotten to this point in the first place and Revan would be making snuggle bunnies with Bastille. Everything else he's got is pretty average which is why when you remove the schtick he can be whupped on just like anyone else. (well like anyone else with a crap ton of stolen power).

 

I think as game players we really don't like it when we can't control our characters. It's why we hate stun and fear mechanics and chapter 2 of the agent quest line and 'hello I'd like to kill that handsome captain over there... no? '.

 

 

 

I'm really enjoying the Ruth stories it's awesome to see you write a completely different character from Nalene.

 

Re: Emperor:

My idea of the role will always be Palpatine. The movies were about despair and love and reacting to/manipulating those, not about The Emperor's Magic Win Button. The galaxy of emotion and moral agency is the one worth thinking about. For the Emperor, a short-range schtick, some direct-order compulsions, I can deal with; but even then, Ruth was vulnerable to command because she had given up. It should be about passion and will, about characters, instead of being about plot devices. And the Emperor of Arbitrarily Powerful Mind Control is a plot device.

 

Also, in terms of game mechanics, yes, I do get furious at loss of agency. I've only seen one occasion where I was really pleased with its powerful usage (way to go Dragon Age: Origins!), and that's actually a companion taking matters into his own hands and the player being allowed to react appropriately once he has done the one forceful thing, rather than the player character arbitrarily losing the ability to take an action that she could obviously physically do. You lost your accustomed ability to order your companion around, but you didn't see your own character state an incredibly stupid unwanted line.

 

 

Re: Other thing: I'm glad you like it! I've been correctly pegged as being obsessed with the Warrior line, but...there's so much potential in it. Yum. And where Nalenne is my long enjoyable joke, Ruth is the personality I could stomach playing.

[bright_ephemera]

Line 1. The Padawan

 

 

 

July, 10 ATC - 1 year before the confirmation of the Wrath

 

Hutta

 

 

Nomen Karr’s Dark Side disintegration was too fast for Ruth to follow, much less encourage. She had come to kill a Jedi Master, but she found herself dueling a man who was reaching deeper into the Dark Side with every minute, ranting about his enemy Baras and about how fate decreed that he, Nomen Karr, was meant to kill her. The Jedi launched himself at her with nothing short of roaring hatred, and she sank into the flow of the Force to deflect his attacks. And return her own.

 

Finally he was subdued. “Damn you,” he spat, but the blow she had dealt his shoulder kept him even from raising his lightsaber. “Damn you. At least I’ll die knowing you’ll never find Jaesa.”

 

A clattering from the hall grabbed her attention. Vette turned with her. Quinn was already watching at the door, and he gave them a calm nod. Imperial troops entered.

 

“My lord,” said the leader, “Darth Baras sent us in case you…” he checked out the scene…”needed…help. That doesn’t seem to be the case.”

 

A uniformed medic hurried in to start tending to Nomen Karr’s wounds.

 

“No!” he snarled. “Baras be damned! I want to die. Then Jaesa will be safe.”

 

“You’re past having a say in this,” Ruth advised him. The padawan who could read a true nature must be neutralized for Baras’s – for all the Empire’s – agents to be safe.

 

The troops healed what they had to, bound him, then tended to the smaller injuries. Nomen Karr wriggled and drooled. Dark Side corruption was actively boiling across his face from time to time. He was a white-hot fountain of anger, of hatred, of an ugly brittle pride.

 

“I was going to expose Baras and open the Jedi Council’s eyes to his danger. It was my destiny! I will not be reduced to this! I will not be the bait that draws my padawan to you!”

 

Quinn tilted his head, listening to his earpiece. “My lord,” he said, “the guards outside indicate that the padawan is approaching.”

 

“Thank you.” Now for the tricky work.

 

Now for what might not have to be murder.

 

The girl she had seen in the holo – and by “girl” she meant “Ruth’s own age,” but there was a soft youth to that face – walked in with confidence. “I have come,” she said, “and it seems your guards were expecting me.”

 

“Welcome. As I have said before. I have no wish to kill you.”

 

“Release Master Karr. Your efforts to draw me out have succeeded; I am here.”

 

“Jaesa!” barked Nomen Karr. “No! I told you to stay put! How dare you defy me! All my sacrifices for nothing, you stupid child!” Whatever color his eyes had been before he had started his desperate effort against Ruth, they were red now.

 

Jaesa stared at him with evident anguish. “What have you done to him?” she asked. “Can this have been inside him all along? No. No one could hide such darkness. You’ve turned him mad somehow.”

 

“I only exposed what was already there,” said Ruth, “and believe me, it was a surprise.”

 

“Is that what you call what you have been doing? You killed my Master Yonlach and my parents. Now you’ve twisted my Master Karr into some abomination.”

 

“His own hate did this.”

 

“Now that you have me, I’ve no doubt you intend to kill him. I will not let that happen.”

 

“Listen to me, Jaesa. Surrender. I will spare his life. You have the courage it took to come; have the wisdom to ensure this works out for all of us.”

 

“I don’t want things to work out for you, Sith.” Jaesa drew a double-bladed lightsaber.

 

“Don’t engage,” Ruth snapped. Vette squeaked and moved aside while Ruth drew her sabers and stood to meet Jaesa’s attack.

 

The girl was…amazing. There was fear in her, anger, disgust, and yet she fought with focus and will, never letting her turbulent emotions get the better of her. Ruth couldn’t have balanced it better herself. It was admirable. It might have been effective. But Ruth had more raw strength.

 

She finally forced Jaesa to her knees and disarmed her. Jaesa stared up at her for a long moment, her bearing proud and fearless even now. “You hesitate to kill me?” she said.

 

“No one has to die here today,” said Ruth, and felt like this was the millionth time she had said it.

 

“Really.” Jaesa regarded her with an unsettling, calculating, wondering stare. “Your actions…reflect only light. You wear a mask, Sith.”

 

Ruth shook her head. “I am what I am. If you cannot reconcile the name to the action, you misunderstand.”

 

“There is nothing to misunderstand about the Sith.” She shook her head and looked to the trembling Jedi master. “Both of you wear masks…but his deception is a far uglier one.”

 

Opportunity. “I can show you a better way, Jaesa. Toward the good we know, not the good we are told. Beyond your preconceptions and beyond Jedi lies. You know my power. Let me show you how to wield yours.”

 

The girl was shaken, but there was a quiet core Ruth still couldn’t be sure of. “All my life I’ve put up with deceit and denial,” she said thoughtfully. “I thought the Jedi would be different. But you’ve shown me otherwise. You exposed Master Karr for what he is. It is your power that reveals a person’s true nature.”

 

In a somewhat less elegant way, I suppose.

 

“I want that conviction. And that purity.”

 

“Then come with me. There’s more than darkness to the Sith Empire if you’re willing to look and willing to work.”

 

“That’s a purpose I can believe in. Let me come with you, then, and learn from you.” She paused, looked over at the writhing Jedi Master. “What will you do with Nomen Karr?”

 

“He must be returned to my master.” That was one Ruth doubted she could get around.

 

“Isn’t that a death sentence?”

 

“As a Jedi he has failed. With the Sith Baras would be glad to let him learn to live.”

 

“I’ll defer to you, my lord,” she said doubtfully.

 

“Come,” said Ruth. “We have a great deal to talk about.” And, um, I have to figure out what to do with an apprentice.

 

I’m so glad you listened.

 

 

[bright_ephemera]

Line 2. Fellow Failures

 

 

 

July, 12 ATC – two weeks before the confirmation of the Wrath

 

Corellia

 

 

There were seven Jedi in the room, plus a scattering of Republic guards. Everyone turned when Ruth entered. She signaled for Jaesa and Pierce to stay by the doorway while she walked a little ways in and permitted the Jedi to surround her.

 

“What is this?” asked one of the Jedi, his clothes and bearing suggesting leadership of some degree. “Sith, stop where you are. You’re badly outnumbered.”

 

She spoke to the room in general. “Darth Baras’s spy – identify yourself so you don’t die with these Jedi.”

 

“Are you suggesting that one of us is Sith?” said the Jedi leader.

 

“A pathetic trick,” said another Jedi. “She’s in over her head, and so she makes a desperate play to destabilize us.”

 

Ruth had intelligence that one of Baras’s deep cover agents was such a Jedi, and was leading this party into a trap. Anybody on Baras’s agent list was on Ruth’s hit list at the moment. She had to cut as much of his support as she could before striking at him. “Last chance, my fellow Sith. Speak now or die with your pretend brethren.”

 

“Hold. I must speak.” A middle-aged brunette stepped forward and bowed slightly to Ruth. “You’re becoming a legend among us, my friend. I am thankful you’ve given me a chance to save myself.”

 

The Jedi leader struggled for words. “Master Injaye…?”

 

Injaye smiled. She smiled with the same smug look Quinn sometimes had. “All these years, right under your nose. I was to lead you to your deaths today. Instead I’ll watch my new friend destroy you.”

 

“You really won’t, traitor. Did you think I was here to save you?” Ruth drew her saber; a murmur ran around the room, but the Jedi did not move to intercept. “You chose the wrong master. I’ll be sure to let him know you failed.”

 

Too late Inyaje went for her weapon. Ruth struck her down before she could raise a defense.

 

Ruth’s awareness burned bright with hatred while she stared at the fallen Sith. From off to one side, the Jedi leader spoke. “She was leading us into a suicide mission, then. We’d be walking to our deaths if not for you.”

 

“Spare me your gratitude,” she said. “It sickens me you couldn’t see her for what she was. Have you Jedi ever gotten anything right?”

 

“I think it would be best for us to part in peace. Now,” said the leader.

 

“We should arrest her,” said another. “Whether she saved us or not, she’s a Sith Lord, and no friend of ours.”

 

She was sick of this kind of jabbering. And she was sick of these “gentle” people who kept picking the wrong fights, then letting themselves get butchered through their own shortsighted weakness. When one Jedi raised his saber, she ignored the active discussion and charged.

 

“Master, no!” shouted Jaesa, starting forward.

 

Pierce barred her path with one arm. “Let her go,” he said quietly.

 

“But they aren’t – “

 

“She finally figured out we’re at war. And she needs to fight. Let her go.”

 

Ruth cut down her first opponent. It was so easy to hate these people. She stepped into the churning heat of the Dark Side and wondered why she had made herself stand out in the cold for so long.

 

“We should help her,” said Jaesa.

 

Pierce considered the circle of Jedi moving around Ruth. “Yeah, let’s clean up the edges. After that I’ll go out, watch the perimeter. You let her do what she needs.”

 

Ruth killed. No finesse, no precision, no mercy. None of that was necessary. They were fools, all of them, blind fools, and sorry inferior fighters, and Ruth hated them for it. They had let themselves be fooled. She hated herself for it. And so she killed them.

 

Then there was only her and Jaesa.

 

They faced each other across a short space strewn with fallen Jedi and soldiers. The horror on the young woman’s face brought Ruth up short. “The spy is dead,” said Ruth, out of a sudden desire to justify herself.

 

Jaesa didn’t say anything.

 

Ruth looked around at the dead once more. She knew she had hated them, passionately, less than a minute ago. She knew they had been lied to. She knew they had tried their best for what they believed in, and they had all lost because something bigger and more cruel just felt like denying them today.

 

She turned away so they wouldn’t see her crying.

 

She heard the hum of a deactivating saber, and then Jaesa was beside her. They knelt together. Ruth expected Jaesa to attack, for vengeance or punishment or something, but she didn’t. She just held Ruth wordlessly for a long time.

 

 

[bright_ephemera]

Line 3. Neglected Correspondence

 

 

 

March, 28 ATC – 16.5 years after the confirmation of the Wrath

 

 

Ruth finished coordinating with her lead spies via holocall and let them go. She was getting tired. A missed call showed on the holo, and she checked the name: Jaesa Brindel (née Wilsaam).

 

Ruth called back and Jaesa came online almost immediately. As ever, she wore modest robes and had some kind of domestic work in hand. Synthweave something or other. She quickly set it aside. “My lord Wrath,” she said, smiling. “Hi.”

 

“Jaesa,” said Ruth. “I was a little surprised to hear from you. What’s going on?”

 

“Nothing important, I just thought it’s been a while since we chatted.”

 

“I see. I don’t suppose you were reminded of this fact by any old friends who may have called you recently?”

 

Her sabacc face was as bad as ever. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

 

“Handsome Chiss, notorious cradle-robber back in the day, showing up out of nowhere to tell you to pester me?”

 

“It’s not like calling you now and then is a bad thing.”

 

“I’ll kill him. I will actually kill that meddling nitwit.”

 

“Don’t do that.”

 

“If he gets in my way again, I will. Why don’t we change the subject. How are the twins?”

 

They had talked about their children quite a lot in the past; Ruth wasn’t really sure when that had stopped. But Jaesa’s Force-sensitive daughters had plenty in common with Ruth’s Force-sensitive son, and that meant their respective parents had plenty to talk about.

 

Somehow she had missed a lot in Jaesa’s life. The chatting came as easily as ever, though. The only silences were when Ruth struggled to come up with some non-killing life events of her own to discuss.

 

“So,” said Jaesa, “if a certain Chiss asked me to call, why would he do so? He just said you might need it.”

 

“He’s staging an intervention having to do with my supposed awfulness,” said Ruth.

 

The flurry of expressions on Jaesa’s face spoke volumes. “That seems a little dramatic,” she said weakly.

 

“Are you going to help me on my return to being a good girl?” inquired Ruth.

 

“I don’t know about that. I can keep in touch, though.” Jaesa paused. “I’ve missed you.”

 

“Oh,” said Ruth. “To be honest, I’ve spent most of the last year and a half re-learning how not to hate my ex-husband. Re-husband. I still haven’t figured out the vocabulary. That and work were a little overwhelming. I couldn’t manage much beyond it.” It didn’t occur to me to try.

 

“Tell him I said hi.”

 

“I will, thanks. If Wynston calls you again, tell him he’s a blasted nuisance.”

 

“Go easy on him,” said Jaesa. “He’s still cute.”

 

“Jaesa, I had no idea you were into him.”

 

“Me? Hardly. I’m just echoing your opinion. Reminding you why you like him.”

 

“What can you know about it? He and I were over before I met you.”

 

“Tell that to the look on your face any time he was around. Second worst crush I ever saw the Emperor’s Wrath showing.”

 

“You’re terrible.”

 

“You’re smiling,” said Jaesa. “My work here is finished.”

 

“Don’t make it into work. Let’s get together sometime.”

 

“Count on it.”

 

Jaesa hung up.

 

Ruth wandered the house aimlessly for a little while. She hoped Wynston had better things to do than continue to prod her. She hoped Jaesa wasn’t just talking to her out of pity or something.

 

She felt like she had something to prove, and she had to prove it to herself first. She went out and sat on the veranda that faced the pond and the lily gardens. She thought about the old old times, back when she could trust Wynston enough to dance with him. About talking with Jaesa, the two of them reinforcing each other’s connection to the light. About Quinn, the times they were alone ignoring work, the patience and humility he had shown in getting to know her again. She thought about not grasping and clawing for all of it this time.

 

The Light Side was there, like a song that had never stopped playing in the other room. Her connection was tenuous at best. But she meditated long into the evening, slowly reacquainting herself with the love that ran alongside her bitterness. She wondered why it had taken her so long to notice it.

 

 

Edited September 6, 2012 by bright_ephemera

[bright_ephemera]

Line 2. Victory

 

 

 

July, 12 ATC – the confirmation of the Wrath

 

Korriban

 

 

Beheading Darth Baras was the single best moment of Ruth's life.

 

She accepted the Dark Council's recognition as her due. Here, this, was to be her work, and she welcomed it.

 

She would do good with her power, too, of course. Defend the defenseless, all those things she had aspired to. But she was finished with offering mercy to those who stood in her way. And she would do her work alone. At best she would keep servants. Moments like this, dealing out the executions people deserved, she couldn't count on anyone but herself.

 

[bright_ephemera]

Line 1. Rejection 1

 

 

 

September, 10 ATC – 10 months before the confirmation of the Wrath

 

The Imperial Fleet

 

 

“My lord. A word, if I may?”

 

“Certainly. We got the repairs that’ll let us go on to Taris yet?”

 

“No,” said Quinn hesitantly, “that isn’t it.”

 

“Oh?”

 

He looked down at the floor and then seemed to expend some effort to look at her instead. “The fact is, you've caused me some difficulty, and I wish to confirm that it was unintentional."

 

"I rarely intend to be difficult. Go on."

 

"Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but some time ago, it seemed you expressed an interest in me beyond our professional relationship."

 

Oh. “I did. In no uncertain terms. Has it been on your mind?”

 

"Yes, actually." His voice actually shook. He hurried on. "Which is why I bring it up. I should have said from the beginning that any personal involvement between us could cloud our judgment and compromise your campaigns."

 

She had given up active flirting some time ago and told him to say no outright if he wasn’t interested. She had gotten used to the resulting silent stalemate – when had he ever responded to her efforts to convince him he was a human being whose opinions mattered? – and she wasn’t expecting an update, ever. This was a bull**** excuse if she had ever heard one. How nervous he looked. What courage it must take, to stand up to a Sith Lord and his direct superior, and say anything other than yes. How easy it would be to call his bluff or, failing that, just coerce him.

 

Yet whatever his reasons, here he was, hiding behind his wisp of an excuse. Asking for it to be enough.

 

She smiled, trying to stay gracious. She had not been raised to own people. "As usual, I can’t dispute your logic. I am interested in you. If you’re ever more comfortable, I’ll be here. But I will not ask you for anything you’re not willing to give. Not now, not ever.”

 

What was going through his head just then? She couldn't tell. "You've given me much to think about, my lord," he said. He gave a small bow and fled the bridge.

 

She leaned on the viewport railing and looked out at nothing. This, giving him what he wanted – in truth, the first thing he had ever requested for his own sake – it was the right thing to do. When someone offered so much of himself so freely, it would take not only an ingrate but a bully to demand the one thing he was keeping for himself. It would be so much easier if she didn’t want him: slim, straight, deceptively understated, utterly fearless. Her strategist. Her pillar of support.

 

Not hers at all.

 

That settled that. She watched the stars for a while. The stars went about their business without caring.

 

 

[bright_ephemera]

Line 2. Rejection 2

 

Crossposted from the Short Fic Weekly Challenge, Confessions prompt.

 

 

 

July, 11 ATC – two weeks after the confirmation of the Wrath

 

 

Ruth looked around the Citadel conference room. It was an adequate place to conduct cleanup business before her work as Wrath took her back out on the move.

 

Just some cleanup business.

 

Right on time, somebody opened the door and escorted Malavai Quinn in. Ruth didn’t even process who the somebody was; she only knew that the door closed and left her alone with Quinn. He was uncollared now. Between the two of them they knew where ownership lay. The shock collar was mostly redundant, and she could afford him the dignity of leaving it behind.

 

They faced each other in silence across the length of the conference table. She had a whole plan to describe, so when she was sure she could steady her breath, she started.

 

"Your master is dead, and I am sick of revenge." Her thoughts shattered at the look on his face. She fixed her eyes on the wall and found herself still talking. "It's meaningless to talk of forgiveness between us. If I set you free, you will come for me, soon or late. You will watch for weakness. Call me a liability to the Empire. Exact your revenge. This is your nature. Nevertheless I must free you. The war effort needs you alive, Quinn. The Empire needs you. The enemy is out there and I will not destroy a man so well qualified to fight it. So you shall live. I’ve unfrozen your accounts. I shall write a recommendation for any post you desire. When the time comes - when the time comes, you can see the child. Under supervision, of course.” She couldn’t bear to give less generous terms, not to him. Even now she couldn't deny him that much.

 

He was calm. Steady. “Will you be resuming your campaign against the Republic, my lord?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And if I asked to serve you? Knowing how well we work together. Knowing what a difference you and I could make. Knowing I would submit to your command without reservation.”

 

“If you asked, I would spit in your eye.” He flinched. “Any other stupid questions?”

 

“No, my lord.”

 

“Good. Coordinate with Jaesa for your passage offworld and any other resources you require.”

 

She conducted him to the door and paused in the doorway. “One final thing. I love you. I’ll go to my grave loving you. And for that above all, I will never forgive you.” An ugly truth, and something she didn’t care to carry alone. “Dismissed.”

 

 

[bright_ephemera]

Switching gears a bit…

 

This timeline is going to start using heavy Jedi Knight Act 3 spoilers.

 

Line 3. And Now For Something Completely Different

 

 

 

April, 28 ATC – 16.5 years after the confirmation of the Wrath

 

 

The note from “Darnek Amun” simply had coordinates for a place and time.

 

Ruth struggled with planning, but ultimately decided to go alone. Depending on how this played out, bringing her own people – Emperor-loyal people – might do more harm than good. And she had some small hope that Wynston wouldn’t lead her into a trap after having spared her life once.

 

She gave Quinn a last kiss for the morning. “I’ve got one of the hush-hush ops today. I expect to be back tonight, but if it runs late, don’t worry.” She hadn’t yet mentioned Wynston’s claims, nor even her contact with him. It didn’t seem wise just yet.

 

“Come home to me soon, my lord,” he said lightly.

 

“I will. I promise.”

 

She knew she had no idea what she was walking into.

 

She left his ship to take her own. She reached the rendezvous point to find a battered-looking Defender class vessel. She docked, ran her hands over her lightsaber hilts to steady her nerves, and opened the airlock seal.

 

Wynston in his disguise stood alone. Human, taller than his original self, red-haired, slightly freckled. Still done out in absolutely horrible-looking street clothes. “Glad you could make it,” he said.

 

“Glad you haven’t shot me yet,” she said.

 

He beckoned. “Come on. There are introductions to make.”

 

He led her up a narrow stairway and into a big circular room, in which she only noticed one thing.

 

A statuesque blonde stood in the middle of the room, or what seemed like the middle of the room because she was in it. She wore a long green dress with golden lace here and there. Her flax-colored hair spilled in glossy waves to her waist. And she was eyeing Ruth with nothing short of amusement.

 

Ruth wanted to kill her.

 

Wynston spoke into the silence. “Larr, this is Darth Ruth Niral, the Emperor’s Wrath. Ruth, Jedi Master Larr Gith.”

 

Maybe the wanting to kill her was just residue of the Emperor’s last order?

 

“Charmed, I’m sure,” said the Jedi in a lilting contralto. Big lustrous eyes, more amber than brown, gave Ruth a slow once-over. “I always thought you’d be taller.”

 

No, no, it was just Larr herself.

 

“So I hear you’re helpless against the Emperor’s suggestions. I guess we need to fix that.”

 

“I won’t be of much help to you until we can block it,” said Ruth, then clamped her mouth shut to avoid saying anything foolish.

 

“The Wrath’s expertise will be most useful in the battles to come,” said Wynston diplomatically.

 

Another voice, rich, smooth, masculine, sounded from the doorway behind Ruth. “I should hope so.”

 

She turned to see a huge Sith Pureblood decked out in black armor and pride. Incredible, deep, profound pride. He was tall, bald, crimson-skinned, handsome as Purebloods went. She had a sudden insane urge to bow.

 

Once again Wynston took up the slack. “Ruth. Lord Scourge, formerly the Emperor’s Wrath.”

 

“Wrath,” she said, settling for a nod.

 

“You may call me Scourge,” he said. “I think one active Wrath is enough.”

 

The palpable waves of appraisal were now attacking Ruth from both sides. “So,” she said. “Larr. I heard you may be able to assist me in concealing knowledge and shaking off commands. Color me interested.”

 

“Marvelous,” purred Larr. “You’re here with two of the only people who have thrown off the Emperor’s compulsion within close range. That’s really more our talent than our training, but maybe you’ll manage.” She beckoned Ruth to one of the crimson couches along the wall.

 

“When did you ever face the Emperor?” said Ruth skeptically.

 

“When I killed him,” said Larr proudly.

 

“You killed him, did you?” This must be the Jedi who had inconvenienced the Emperor’s Voice back when Ruth was starting out. Ruth thought that had been a different name, but she supposed this might be the person. She must have been staggeringly young at the time. “You didn’t do a very good job.”

 

Larr shot a quick nervous look at Lord Scourge, then recovered her composure. “Then we’d best be prepared for next time. There’s a simple meditation you can start with, and if you can figure that out we can start on the real work.”

 

Better get it over with. Ruth sat facing the Jedi. “Lead me, then.”

 

“Close your eyes. The beginning of a shield is pure intent, a focus from which you can work with…spite, or insecurity, or whatever it is you people use.”

 

If she was trying to work up Ruth’s ire, she was succeeding.

 

Ruth spent a while obeying Larr’s instructions, which the Jedi continued to phrase as insultingly as possible.

 

“Focus,” repeated Larr.

 

“I know how to focus,” said Ruth.

 

“Then do it, Wrath. I never had to do this, but if you need a crutch of some sort, think of some specific desire to focus on.”

 

She bolted to her feet. “You know what? I’ll just practice this at home. Thanks for the fun.”

 

“Not so fast,” said Larr in a voice like a whiplash. “You’re not going anywhere until I’m sure you won’t be calling home to him.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I wish to practice on my own, well away from you. That’s all.”

 

“Your hostility isn’t helping matters.”

 

“Neither is yours.”

 

“I don’t have anything to prove, Sith. Wynston, I’m trying to work with this one, but she isn’t even bothering to cooperate. It was a mistake to bring her.”

 

“No,” said Wynston. “It wasn’t.”

 

“If you didn’t intend to help, Wrath, why did you show up at all?”

 

“Galaxy’s going to blow up if you fail. Isn’t that reason enough?”

 

“Altruism?” Larr scoffed. “I can smell the rot of the Dark Side from here. Give me a more convincing excuse.”

 

My son. My husband. “I have my reasons. I don’t have to explain them to you.”

 

Lord Scourge caught her eye and gave a very small nod. Something about the corners of his mouth suggested he was pleased.

 

“Enough,” said Ruth. “I’ll learn what I have to if it will help, but today’s lesson is over.” She stalked back out towards the airlock and onto her own ship.

 

Wynston followed. “Ruth.”

 

She crossed her arms. “This is ridiculous. How did you get mixed up in this circus, anyway? And where did you find that harpy?”

 

“Ah.” Wynston scratched his head. “There was a party on Coruscant, one of my days off, and I…ran into her. One thing led to another, and I heard about this mission she’s pursuing now and realized it considerably outweighs my other projects.”

 

Amusement started elbowing out Ruth’s irritation. “One thing actually led to another. You have no shame.”

 

His return grin was knowing. “It led directly to my working on saving the galaxy, didn’t it? Force guidance, serendipity, whatever you care to call it. This job falls into the mission statement I’ve been working at all this time, namely, not getting huge populations of innocent people blown up.” He paused. “Ruth, I’m a facilitator. I get people to talk and I get them to stop talking. These rituals, vast life-draining attacks, Force coercion and resistance, it’s not a battle I’m equipped to fight. But I’ll do anything it takes to bring together the people who are qualified to work on it.”

 

“I just kill stuff,” said Ruth. “I’m not sure what you were thinking there.”

 

“You don’t ‘just kill stuff,’” he insisted. “If you ‘just killed stuff,’ one thing would never have led to another back on Dromund Kaas, ages and ages ago.”

 

“Oh, that’s sweet. You only sleep with heroes?”

 

He laughed outright. “I can’t quite say that, but the heroes are the only ones I call back.” He leaned forward, patted her shoulder. She permitted the contact. “Tell me you’ll stick with it? I know Larr is a handful, but what’s at risk is bigger than one woman’s ego.”

 

“Which woman are you worried about?”

 

He opened his mouth. Hesitated. “Tell me you’ll stick with it?” he repeated.

 

“Yes. I want to…I don’t know. I want to have something again.”

 

He nodded. “I’ll get you a holofrequency you can call if you need to get in touch with us. You understand we can’t leave you the house key.”

 

“I know. Anything I should keep in mind for work in the coming weeks?”

 

“Think twice before killing Jedi. Better yet, run assignments by your husband to determine the military relevance. If there is none, you can bet it’s part of the Emperor’s power play.”

 

“All right. Thanks.”

 

“We’ll arrange another meeting soon, all right?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“I’m really glad you came.”

 

“Yeah. Think about ways to keep me away from her throat.”

 

“Ruth,” he chided.

 

“Emperor’s compulsion. I can hardly help myself.”

 

“She’s teaching you to resist that.”

 

“She’s really not convincing me, Wynston. Go on, I’ve got places to be. I’ll get some practice in and we’ll get together later.”

 

 

 

EDIT: With the Jedi on board I can finally, comfortably place pictures of our main players, miraculously grouped around age 20-25:

 

 

http://i1242.photobucket.com/albums/gg522/bright_ephemera/Misc%20SWTOR/Ruth_cast_RMC.png

 

 

Edited September 8, 2012 by bright_ephemera

[irishfino]

Jeez, even I want to kill Larr's face off.