Afterimages

[irishfino]

Quinn met her gaze squarely. “I’m sorry, my lord,” he said in a low voice.

 

“I know,” she answered quietly.

 

See, he's caring about people right there! He frequently tries to detach himself from his emotions and attachments, but he fails horribly... he's such a doof.

[Vesaniae]

See, he's caring about people right there! He frequently tries to detach himself from his emotions and attachments, but he fails horribly... he's such a doof.

Exactly.

 

Um, sorry about the title of this one...it popped into my head and I couldn't resist.

 

Ten – Call of Duty Sci-Fi Warfare III!

Kaas City, Dromund Kaas

12 ATC

 

A’tro stood in her office, hands clasped behind her back, drawing upon the Force to project a subtle imposing aura. She maintained her most inscrutable facial expression as she regarded her visitor.

 

Moff Aurelius Drayle bowed deeply. An older man, he had distinguished himself as a commander in the last war. “My lord Wrath,” he said. “Thank you for granting me this audience.”

 

“You’ve piqued my curiosity, Moff Drayle,” A’tro replied. “I look forward to hearing the details of your plan.”

 

“And so you shall, my lord,” Drayle assured her.

 

A’tro looked over at the officer who had accompanied him. “Perhaps if we could speak privately?” she suggested delicately.

 

“Of course,” Drayle said. “Major Merrik, if you could wait outside, please?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Merrik said, saluting. She exited the room, closing the door behind her.

 

A’tro nodded. “Now, then. What exactly are you proposing?”

 

 

*****

 

Merrik stood in the antechamber, admiring the view from the window. She hoped that the Wrath would decide to support Drayle’s plan; it would be nice to be back in the field again.

 

Hearing movement behind her, she turned around to see another officer. Her eyes went first to the captain’s insignia on his uniform, then moved up to his face. He was handsome in a cold sort of way, with a rather distinctive mole on his left cheek, and judging by the way his eyes widened as he got a good look at her, he recognized her at the same time that she recognized him.

 

“Well, look what the sleen dragged in,” Merrik said, smiling broadly. “Malavai Quinn, you’re still breathing.”

 

“Hello, Shari,” Quinn said.

 

“That’s Major Merrik to you, Captain,” she said with mock sternness. She grinned. “You have no idea how long I’ve been looking forward to outranking you.”

 

“Since the academy, I believe. I assume you’re here with Moff Drayle?” He paused for a long moment before adding, “Sir.”

 

“Yes, I’m under Drayle’s command, these days. I see you finally escaped Balmorra.”

 

“It took long enough,” Quinn said grumpily. “I serve the Emperor’s Wrath, now.”

 

Merrik’s eyes widened. “That’s quite a posting, Malavai. I’m impressed.”

 

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Are we on a first-name basis, Major?”

 

“As long as no one’s looking.” She frowned. “It’s been over ten years since I last saw you. You never answered any of my messages.”

 

“I was busy.”

 

“Yes, because Balmorra was such a hotbed of activity. Or were you just jealous of my successful career?”

 

“Jealous of you? I should think not.”

 

“Now, now. Our commanders are in the next room; let’s be civil.”

 

“I have never been anything but.”

 

Merrik smirked. “Of course. Say, are you doing anything tonight?”

 

*****

 

“Your strategy seems sound,” A’tro said slowly, looking at the array of holos in front of her. “My only concern is that this will turn into another Taris.”

 

Drayle nodded. “That is understandable, my lord. However, I assure you that the situation here is very different. The Republic’s restoration efforts have being going on for three hundred years. We’ll be fighting on an intact planet, rather than a toxic wasteland.”

 

A’tro paused for a long moment, considering. Then she made up her mind. “Very well, Moff Drayle,” she said. “You have my support.”

 

The Moff bowed deeply. “I am most grateful, my lord,” he said. “My forces are assembling at Vaiken even as we speak; once you join us, we will launch the attack.”

 

“I will depart tomorrow.” She smiled. “This will be a symbolic gesture that the Republic can’t possibly ignore. The campaign on Taris was nothing more than reburying a moldering corpse. Telos, however…”

 

Drayle nodded. “Telos will learn to fear the might of the Sith once again.”

 

*****

 

“So, Moff Drayle wants to invade Telos,” Darth Nox said thoughtfully. “An interesting plan.”

 

“He seems to know what he’s doing,” A’tro said. “And it will give me something to do.”

 

“Ah, nothing like pounding a planet into the ground to brighten one’s day,” Nox mused. “And a Jedi Civil War target, no less. I hope you’re not setting yourself up as another Darth Revan.”

 

“What do you mean by that?”

 

“Turning to the light side or some such nonsense. I’m rather fond of you, A’tro, but I warn you, if you decide to become a Jedi I will have to kill you.”

 

“Don’t worry,” A’tro said, “I’m the last Sith in the Empire who would do that.” There’s only room for one heretic in a family, and the spot’s already taken.

 

Nox smiled. “Lovely. Perhaps I shall come and join your little war effort. It could be entertaining.”

 

“You, doing something productive? That’ll be the day.”

 

“My dear Wrath, I help the Empire in my own way—from the shadows. Just because you can’t see what I do doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”

 

“I’ll take your word for it,” A’tro said skeptically.

 

“So nice to see that you have faith in me.” Nox winked at her. “Good luck on Telos. The Republic will fight hard to keep that place.”

 

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” A’tro said coolly. She turned to go, then paused, giving Nox a threatening look. “Oh, and one more thing. Keep your hands off Quinn, or I will take your hands off you.”

 

Nox raised an eyebrow. “I see your apprentice been gossiping about me. Is he yours, then?”

 

“Not in the sense you mean,” A’tro glowered, “but he is one of my people. Do not trespass on my property again.”

 

Nox held out her hands in a placating gesture. “No need to be upset. I know when to take a hint.”

 

“You’d better,” A’tro said, and left.

 

Arrogant woman, she thought as she walked through the Citadel. How dare she try to take advantage of Quinn like that? No wonder he seemed so unsettled. Funny, though, I didn’t think he was Nox’s type…it must be the uniform. Poor man, he’s probably had enough of Sith women to last a lifetime.

 

She frowned inwardly. Stop feeling sorry for him, damn it! He betrayed you, for crying out loud!

 

It’s your own fault, whispered her conscience. After what you said to him, it’s no wonder… You’re the heartless one.

 

A’tro stopped, feeling flustered. It was looking to be another one of those nights, where she sat alone in her rooms agonizing over Quinn and feeling generally sorry for herself.

 

Not tonight, she told herself firmly. She pulled out her comm and entered Savadar Ekari’s frequency.

 

 

Quinn has a friend? Impossible! Well, we'll see more about their relationship next chapter. And bring on the KOTOR references! <3 that game, so much...

[bright_ephemera]

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

 

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

 

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

 

Forgive me. Telos! I got more and more excited as I read through your third subsection there. I didn't even play KOTOR II, but I have such fond memories of KOTOR, sitting under the Kashyyyk stars (well, forest canopy), drawing Carth out with questions about his old planet. And, well, mocking his pain, but I have very fond memories of the whole thing.

 

 

“You’ve piqued my curiosity, Moff Drayle,” A’tro replied.

 

+10,000 English language points for not peaking curiosity. <3

 

 

It was looking to be another one of those nights, where she sat alone in her rooms agonizing over Quinn and feeling generally sorry for herself.

 

I sympathize. A lot.

[Arator]

Please, please, please destroy Telos. I hated the planet in KotOR 2 even more then I hated Taris.

[Vesaniae]

This is a long one. Also, there are some massive Agent spoilers in the middle concealed with a handy spoiler tag. Said spoilers are just part of the conversation and aren't relevant to the plot, so if you're trying to avoid Agent spoilers go ahead and skip them. That part is just there for flavor.

 

Eleven – Perspective

Kaas City, Dromund Kaas

12 ATC

 

Despite Quinn’s protestations of having work to do, Merrik had all but dragged him to the Nexus Room to “catch up”, as she put it. Now he was sitting at a table in the far corner of the second floor, an untouched drink in front of him, listening to Merrik’s descriptions of the various people she had served under over the past twelve years.

 

“Lord Tyvinian was a nasty piece of work,” Merrik said nostalgically. “He was one of those types who would rave for hours about the injustice of the Treaty of Coruscant while burning villages and executing prisoners, just to prove how much of a hardliner he was. He was hopeless at strategy, though—this one time, he wanted to…”

 

Quinn listened with half an ear, giving the rest of his attention to a discrete survey of his surroundings. The room was not very crowded compared to what he had seen on the first floor. The clientele looked mostly civilian, with a few uniformed figures thrown into the mix, as well as a number of individuals who were clearly Sith.

 

“…so I told him that the plan was suicide, and I’d be damned if I sent good men to their deaths on the orders of a vengeance-crazed lunatic,” Merrik finished.

 

Quinn turned to stare at her. “You said that to a Sith?”

 

She nodded. “He carried out the attack anyway, of course. He died, along with half the soldiers in his command, and I spent three months in a medcenter having my trachea reconstructed. That was when Moff Drayle picked me up.”

 

Quinn shook his head. “You were lucky he didn’t kill you, Shari.”

 

“Oh, I know,” Merrik sighed. “Normally, I wouldn’t have said anything, but by then I was fed up with his deranged notions of warfare, and I just couldn’t take anymore. So, what’s the Wrath like?”

 

Quinn started at the abrupt change of subject. “She’s…not like most Sith,” he said slowly. “She treats her crew like people, as opposed to minions.”

 

“That must be nice.”

 

It was. “Yes, she’s always willing to listen to others’ opinions, even if they contradict her own.” Quinn stared off into the distance, not noticing how Merrik’s face acquired a calculating expression as he continued, “Her actions are driven not out of a desire for personal gain, but out of dedication to the well-being of the Empire. She is ruthless towards the Empire’s enemies, but never eliminates a potential resource. She’s a gifted leader, and serving her has been the highlight of my career.”

 

Merrik raised an eyebrow. “My goodness. That’s rather high praise coming from you, Malavai.”

 

“The Wrath is…exceptional,” Quinn said softly.

 

“So you say—wait, isn’t that her over there?”

 

Quinn turned to look in the direction indicated. It was A’tro, sitting on the other side of the room with another Pureblood Sith whom he did not recognize. What was she doing there?

 

 

*****

 

 

“Thank you for coming here on such short notice,” A’tro said.

 

Savadar smiled. “It was no trouble.”

 

“Yes, well, I’m leaving tomorrow, and I wasn’t sure when I would get another chance to talk to you.”

 

“Where are you headed, if you don’t mind my asking?”

 

“Telos,” A’tro said, swirling the contents of her glass. “Moff Drayle is going to invade, and I told him I’d help.”

 

“So you’re off to war, then.” Savadar looked down at the tabletop. “I wish I could go with you. I cannot act without Darth Andrael’s orders, however.”

 

“I remember the days when I was similarly constrained.” A’tro grimaced. “I don’t miss them.”

 

“I imagine not.”

 

“At least Evendre taught me things,” A’tro grumbled. “With Baras, I felt more like an errand girl than an apprentice. For instance, this one time, he sent me to Hoth…”

 

 

*****

 

 

“You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?”

 

Quinn blinked, tearing his attention back towards Merrik. “I…sorry, what?”

 

She smirked at him. “The Wrath. I wasn’t expecting her to be so young.”

 

She’s almost thirty. Aloud, he said, “You never know with Sith."

 

Merrik nodded. “I suppose that’s true.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “She’s rather pretty, isn’t she?”

 

“I—I hadn’t noticed,” Quinn muttered awkwardly.

 

Merrik smiled predatorily. “Really.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re implying, Shari.”

 

 

*****

 

 

“Still, your life seems to have been far more exciting than mine,” Savadar sighed. “Andrael keeps me dealing with internal affairs, for the most part.

Playing politics, keeping an eye on Sith Intelligence—that sort of thing.”

 

“How are things over in Intelligence?” A’tro asked.

 

“Despite what some might suspect, they’re fine. Any potential dissidents were eliminated when the original organization was dissolved, and the Hand of Darth Jadus keeps the rest well in line.”

 

“Have you met the Hand, then?”

 

Savadar nodded. “She’s a Chiss. No emotions whatsoever, at least none that I could see.” He frowned. “Something about her feels strange, though. I don’t think she’s Force-sensitive, but…it’s as if she’s been branded with the dark side, somehow.”

 

“Jadus’ handiwork, no doubt,” A’tro said grimly. “If he ever comes back from wherever it is he’s disappeared to this time, Darth Nox will throw a fit. You should hear her go on about him. She hates him, for some reason.”

 

Savadar shivered faintly. “I almost hope he stays gone. I remember Eradication Day…

Look, can we talk about something else?”

 

“Of course. Have you found an apprentice yet?” A’tro asked.

 

Savadar shook his head. “Not yet. There’s an acolyte I’ve seen during my past few trips to Korriban who looks promising, but I’m not completely sure about her.”

 

“Well, if that doesn’t work out, you can always find yourself a Jedi, like I did,” A’tro said dryly.

 

Savadar smiled. “I’m afraid I don’t have your talents of persuasion.”

 

“You have too little faith in yourself. So, tell me about this acolyte.”

 

As Savadar talked, A’tro looked around. The Force presences of the beings around her were dim lights to her weak perception. One of the presences seemed slightly familiar, however. Her eyes drifted across the room until she spotted her quarry.

 

What’s Quinn doing here, of all places? she wondered. And who’s that with him? That looks like one of Drayle’s officers. They must know each other…

 

 

*****

 

 

“You’re doing it again,” Merrik informed him.

 

Quinn started. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Merrik rolled her eyes. “You’re staring at the Wrath like a love-struck puppy.”

 

“I am not love-struck,” Quinn said indignantly. “And I was most certainly not staring.”

 

“Yes, you were,” Merrik sighed. “This is like our second year at the academy all over again, only in reverse.”

 

“Don’t remind me,” Quinn said darkly.

 

She chuckled. “You practically had to ward the girls off with a stun baton.”

 

“While you stood by and were amused at my expense.”

 

“I told you, ignoring them only makes them more desperate, and glowering only encourages them.”

 

“Hardly helpful advice,” Quinn said disdainfully.

 

“It’s your own fault for not just picking one and letting the rest turn on each other.”

 

“I did! And look how that turned out.”

 

Merrik grimaced. “Ah, yes. How could I possibly forget? Really, Malavai, what in the galaxy were you thinking?”

 

“It seemed logical at the time,” Quinn said defensively.

 

“I fail to see the logic in pretending to date a girl who practically stalked you for months on end. She also had the intellectual capacity of a senile gundark, her family was upper middle class at best, and she was not even very attractive.”

 

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were jealous, Shari.”

 

Merrik shuddered. “Emperor, no! I’d sooner shoot myself than get involved with you! No offense,” she added hastily.

 

“Yes, ours was always an alliance of convenience,” Quinn mused. “You used me for my intellect, I took advantage of your family’s connections.”

 

“And my money,” Merrik grumbled. “I haven’t forgotten that time in our third year.”

 

Quinn gave a small smile. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

 

Merrik grinned at him. “Absolutely not.”

 

 

*****

 

 

A’tro saw Quinn smile, and fought back a sudden surge of anger. Don’t be irrational, she told herself. You have no reason to be jealous, none whatsoever.

 

Savadar saw her expression turn thunderous. “Are you all right?” he asked.

 

A’tro forced herself to smile. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

 

“It’s getting late,” Savadar noted. “You should probably be getting back. You ought to be well-rested before you go charging into a war zone.”

 

A’tro glanced over at Quinn. “I suppose you’re right,” she said, looking down at the table.

 

She noticed Savadar’s hand resting casually beside his glass. On sudden impulse, she reached out to cover it with her own.

 

She met his eyes and smiled sweetly. That smile had always disarmed Savadar as surely as a lightsaber strike to the wrist. It had even thawed Quinn, but she wasn’t thinking about him right now. She could almost see Savadar’s heart melting. Some things had obviously not changed since she had known him before. Perhaps it was wrong of her to take advantage of how he felt about her, but…

 

“Perhaps you could escort me back to my chambers?” she asked slyly.

 

“I believe I can do that,” he answered, keeping his gaze on her face.

 

She rose to her feet and rounded the table. Savadar offered her his arm. She took it, and they exited the room together.

 

She did not look at Quinn, but she could feel his eyes on her.

 

 

*****

 

 

Merrik reached across the table and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Malavai,” she said urgently. “Calm down. You look ready for murder.”

 

Quinn shook his head. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

 

“No, you’re not,” she said. “I know you too well.”

 

Quinn dislodged her grip and stood up. “I really should be going. Good night, Shari.” He turned and walked out.

 

Merrik stood hastily and followed him, catching him by the arm as he departed the Nexus Room.

 

“Where are you going?” she demanded.

 

He sighed. “I’m not about to do anything foolish.”

 

“You’d better not be.”

 

“Shari, you know me—”

 

“Yes, I do know you,” she snapped. “I know you well enough to tell that you’re crazy about that Sith you serve, and that is not a good thing.”

 

“You’re insane.”

 

“Am I? So the Wrath means nothing to you, then?”

 

“No,” Quinn said coldly. “She does not.”

 

Merrik shook her head. “You are a damned liar—“

 

A young woman in Sith robes started to walk by them, then stopped short. “Oh! Hello, Quinn,” she said.

 

Quinn inclined his head. “Jaesa.”

 

Jaesa smiled. “Who’s your friend?”

 

“This is Major Sharinet Merrik, one of Moff Drayle’s officers, and an old friend of mine,” Quinn explained. “Shari, this is Jaesa Willsaam, the Wrath’s apprentice.”

 

Merrik bowed. “It’s an honor to meet you, my lord.”

 

Jaesa winced. “Please, no need for the title. I’m not a Lord—yet.” She turned to Quinn. “I just passed the Wrath. She says to be at the Alecto tomorrow morning. We’re all leaving for Telos.”

 

Quinn nodded. “Very well.” He paused, then asked carefully, “Do you happen to know who she was with, by any chance?”

 

Jaesa nodded. “She introduced us. Lord Savadar Ekari. Apparently he and the Wrath go way back.”

 

“I see,” Quinn said tonelessly. “I won’t keep you any further, Jaesa. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

Jaesa dipped her head in acknowledgement and headed into the cantina.

 

“So,” Merrik said after a moment. “A Lord. That’s impressive competition.”

 

“There is no competition,” Quinn said heatedly. “The Wrath is a Sith, Shari. A Sith. Furthermore, she has made her lack of interest in me quite clear. Not that I cared in the first place.”

 

Merrik patted him on the shoulder. “If it makes you feel better to lie to yourself, go ahead,” she said comfortingly.

 

“You’re delusional.”

 

“Of course, of course. Listen, if you need a one-night stand, I can probably set you up with Moff Drayle’s daughter—she’s twenty-eight, blonde, green eyes, about my height—“

 

“No, thank you.”

 

“You sure? I know Verity would like you—“

 

“Quite sure.”

 

“If you say so,” Merrik sighed. “I suppose if we’re leaving tomorrow, I ought to go and see my mother. She’ll never let me hear the end of it if she finds out I was on Dromund Kaas and didn’t visit.”

 

“Good luck.”

 

“Thanks, I’ll probably need it.” Merrik strode off into the night.

 

Quinn remained where he was for a long time, watching the lights of the Citadel.

Edited December 22, 2012 by Vesaniae

[irishfino]

So jealous. Jealous Quinn is fun.

[Vesaniae]

Here, have another long one. This one's been waiting in the wings for a while.

Readers of the Short Fic Weekly Challenge thread may recognize the first part of this, which I originally posted for the Guilty Pleasures prompt. Now you can see what happened after the ominous last sentence!

 

Interlude - Flashback: Mistakes of the Past

Voss-Ka, Voss

11 ATC

 

A’tro was not normally one to admire scenery, but even she had to admit that Voss was a beautiful planet.

 

Well, except for the Nightmare Lands, she thought wryly. That was…not so pleasant.

 

She suppressed a shudder at the memory. The events within the Dark Heart had been disturbing, to say the least. She was doing her best to avoid thinking about it, but she knew that she would have to come to terms with it sooner or later.

 

I spoke with the Emperor. Maybe only through a proxy, but…that was still the Emperor.

 

Everything felt more real, now. She was the Emperor’s Wrath, and she would kill Darth Baras and end the threat he posed to the Empire. Yet despite her newfound resolve, she found herself worrying. Things were going to have to change.

 

She dragged her mind back to the conversation she was having with a Voss woman, who seemed quite disconcerted to be having a discussion with an off-worlder about what she was displaying in the marketplace.

 

“They must be difficult to maintain,” A’tro said, bending over the intricately engraved ceramic containers. “How regularly do you have to trim them?”

 

The Voss woman frowned, evidently trying to find the proper Basic words. “Clip every few months,” she said slowly. “Small cuts, precise. Patience required.”

 

“I should think so,” A’tro mused. She reached out to gently brush a fingertip across one of the miniature trees’ branches. “Do you keep them inside or outside?”

 

“Indoors, under lights. Very fragile—rain would break them.”

 

A’tro nodded. “These are incredible. I used to grow miniatures when I was younger, but I never could manage anything like this.”

 

“Techniques are old, complex, difficult to master,” the Voss agreed.

 

“And you’re selling these?”

 

“Yes.” The Voss woman looked fondly at the little trees. “Why create beauty if not to share it?”

 

“Something tells me you don’t let off-worlders buy these, though,” A’tro said dryly.

 

“Voss understand the beauty of paran-sei. Outsiders…” She made a non-committal gesture.

 

“Of course,” A’tro murmured. “You can’t trust a work of art like this to just anyone.” She glanced up at the sky and noted the position of the sun. “I really must be going if I want to catch the shuttle to the space station. Thank you for indulging my curiosity; it’s been educational.” She bowed respectfully.

 

The Voss returned the gesture. “For an off-worlder, you have an appreciation for beauty. My name is Saras-Le; perhaps we will speak again later.”

 

A’tro nodded. “A pleasure to meet you, Saras-Le. If I am ever on your world again, I will be sure to pay you and your—what did you call them? Paran-sei?—a visit.” She smiled.

 

Saras-Le turned her attention to one of the trees, and A’tro backed away.

 

I should have tried to get her to sell me one, she thought. I always liked those things. Of course, the others would never let me hear the end of it. At least none of them were here to see me talking to her—

 

A’tro turned around and came face to face with Malavai Quinn.

 

Except him. Damn it.

 

“Hello, Quinn,” she said innocently. “How long have you been standing there?” Maybe he didn’t overhear.

 

Her hopes were dashed when Quinn replied, “Quite some time, my lord. You seemed quite absorbed in your discussion of the local flora.”

 

She put her hands on her hips. “The art of growing miniature trees is ancient and well-respected all across the galaxy—including in the Empire.”

 

“I meant no offense, my lord. I would, however, like to point out that the last shuttle of the day leaves in less than one hour.”

 

“I’m aware of that, Captain,” she said. She looked around, and saw a deserted side street that seemed to run in the direction of the Imperial enclave. “Let’s go this way, try to avoid running into any Republic people.”

 

A’tro strode briskly down the side street without looking to see if Quinn was following. She knew that he would.

 

They turned a corner, and passed out of view of the main street. A’tro stopped abruptly and turned around. She reached up and grabbed Quinn by the shoulders before he could run into her, then kissed him.

 

He stepped back almost immediately, albeit with some reluctance. “My lord, if we’re seen—“

 

“The Voss won’t care, the Republic expects this sort of thing from the Empire, and Imperials will have a quiet chuckle over the scandal and move on with their day. Besides,” she added, smiling mischievously, “I wanted to give you some incentive not to mention my little discussion to anyone. Can you imagine what Pierce and Vette would say if they knew that I was interested in the cultivation of miniature trees?”

 

“Your secret is safe with me, my lord,” Quinn assured her.

 

“Thank the Emperor,” A’tro said, relieved. “It’s not a very Sith-like hobby, I know. I don’t suppose you know anything about it?”

 

“My education, while extensive, failed to cover horticulture.”

 

“That’s a pity,” A’tro sighed. “It’s a fascinating subject.” She looked around. “I suppose we ought to keep moving if we’re going to make that shuttle.”

 

“Actually, my lord,” Quinn said slowly, “There was something I wanted to mention to you, and seeing as we’re in a fairly private location…”

 

“Go ahead,” A’tro said, ignoring her sudden twinge of misgivings.

 

“I’m not certain how best to say this, but…” Quinn took a deep breath, then looked her in the eyes. ““I’m falling in love with you,” he said quietly. “What’s more, I think you’re falling in love with me.” He paused, his inscrutable mask momentarily slipping to show the anxiety she could just barely feel in the Force. “Am I wrong?”

 

A’tro felt as though a large quantity of icy water had been poured over her. “I—I can’t answer that,” she whispered, her voice quivering. “I can’t.”

 

What had she been thinking? She was Sith! This kind of attachment was weakness.

 

“Look, I—we—“ she stammered. “Quinn, I—I think it would be best if we stopped seeing each other. Our relationship is…well, it’s a liability, frankly, and I never should have…” She trailed off.

 

Quinn’s face wiped itself clear of any expression whatsoever. Only his eyes hinted at any feeling of pain, and what she saw in them made her feel terrible.

 

It’s for the best, she told herself. I’m the Emperor’s Wrath, I can’t afford to be tied down like this. She had spoken with the Emperor’s Voice, come face to face with the reality of her situation. Her affair with Quinn had to end, for both their sakes. Her feelings for him made her weak. It had been a mistake to indulge those feelings in the first place.

 

“Let’s go,” she whispered.

 

They made their way back to the Imperial enclave in tense silence.

 

Throughout the walk and the shuttle flight up to the orbital station, A’tro agonized. Even as she reported the success of her mission to the Emperor’s Hand, the debate continued in the back of her mind.

 

The holoimages of Servant One and Servant Two vanished, and her reverie was interrupted by Quinn speaking to her for the first time in hours.

 

“My lord, I am afraid that we cannot go to Corellia at this time…”

 

As the Alecto sped through hyperspace towards the transponder station, A’tro made up her mind.

 

I’ll apologize to him, she decided. If he wants me back, we can continue. If not…then I’ll just have to come to terms with my own stupidity.

 

On the transponder station, they came to a halt in the center of a large, empty room. A’tro saw an opportunity and opened her mouth to speak, to tell Quinn that she was sorry, that she—

 

“My lord,” Quinn said coolly, cutting her off before she could begin. “I regret that our paths must diverge. Out of respect, I wanted to be here to witness your fate.”

 

A’tro’s danger sense kicked in with a vengeance. An almost tangible sense of doom pulsated all around her. I have a bad feeling about this, she thought.

 

“What fate, Quinn?” she asked warily. “What are you talking about?”

 

Quinn had paused a few steps ahead of her. Now he turned around to face her. “It pains me, but this entire scenario has been a ruse,” he said. “Darth Baras is my true master. He had me lure you here to have you killed.”

 

A’tro felt the blood drain from her face. “This is because of what I said back on Voss, isn’t it?” Damn, I’m such a fool.

 

Quinn shrugged. “This was Baras’ plan, not mine. However, I admit that you made my decision to follow his orders considerably easier.”

 

A’tro’s hands dropped to her lightsabers. “Do you really believe that you can kill me by yourself?”

 

“Far from it,” he answered. “I’m well aware of your capabilities, and planned accordingly.”

 

As if on cue, the doors behind him slid open, and a pair of menacing-looking war droids marched through.

 

“After observing you in action so many times, it was simple enough to catalogue your strengths and weaknesses,” Quinn explained, as though describing the weather. “These droids have been programmed specifically to fight you. The probability of you defeating both of them is, quite frankly, negligible.”

 

A’tro drew her lightsabers and ignited the blades. “You put too much faith in the odds,” she snapped, growing angry.

 

“And you put too much faith in me,” Quinn returned icily. He drew his blaster. “For the sake of what we once shared, I’ll try to make this as quick and painless as possible.”

 

The droids opened fire.

 

A’tro dodged the first volley with relative ease. She leaped for the first droid, lightsabers whirling to deflect the continuous blaster fire. It was ready for this tactic, however, and fired a missile in her direction.

 

The Force shielded her from the explosion itself, but the shockwave sent her flying towards the wall. She twisted in the air, hit the wall with both feet, and jumped back towards the droid. Towards—but not quite to. She hit the ground just in front of its tripod base and rolled underneath the machine, lightsabers slashing.

 

The droid fell apart in two smoking pieces—pieces that promptly exploded into a ball of flaming shrapnel. Again, she used the Force to shield herself from the worst of it, dimly noticing that Quinn had stayed well back, out of range of the blast. Some of the shrapnel got through, however, carving small scratches in her armor and slicing across her less protected skin.

 

The second droid fired at her, its twin laser cannons slightly out of sync. She caught the first round on her right hand lightsaber, sending the blaster bolts back at the droid, with little apparent effect. Instinctively, she raised her left hand lightsaber to catch the second round.

 

The second round of blaster fire had been powered much higher than the first. The effort of deflecting it nearly sent the lightsaber flying out of her hand.

 

Damn it, she thought as she maneuvered closer to the droid. Why did I have to tell him that my left hand is weaker?

 

As she closed to melee range, the droid reached out with one arm and delivered a solid hit to her left lightsaber. Her already-weakened grip failed under the unexpected blow, and the hilt tumbled from her fingers. Another blow from the droid’s other hand followed the first, moving with the inhuman speed of a machine, knocking her to her knees.

 

Suddenly, the possibility of death loomed very close. She reached out desperately with the Force, drawing on strength like she’d never had before, and crushed the droid with an invisible hand. It exploded like the other, and she hastily shielded herself from the blast.

 

Adjusting her grip on her remaining lightsaber, A’tro turned to deal with Quinn—only to find that he was no longer where he had been standing for the duration of the fight. She started to turn around as her danger sense pri ckled.

 

Quinn stabbed her in the back, his vibroknife sliding through one of the weakened spots in her armor and back out again in one swift motion. The impact of the blade drove the breath from her body. She staggered, dazed, and dropped her lightsaber.

 

Quinn hesitated for a fraction of an instant. A’tro’s instincts took over, and she whirled around. She grabbed his wrist with her good hand and twisted, forcing the blaster out of his hand. She kicked his legs out from under him, and he collapsed to his knees in front of her.

 

She reached out, and her lightsaber sprang back into her hand. She ignited the weapon and prepared to deal the coup de grâce.

 

Quinn looked up at her, his dark blue eyes meeting her golden ones. “I have betrayed you,” he whispered. “Conspired with your most hated enemy. I know that there can be no mercy for me. Do what you must, my lord.”

 

At that moment, looking coldly into his eyes, A’tro had never hated him more. But at the same time, beneath the rage, a steady undercurrent lingered of a different emotion entirely.

 

The scarlet blade trembled.

 

She cursed herself for hesitating, and reached out with the dark side to make a garrote of the Force, to electrify the air and summon dark lightning, to make him suffer for what he had done to her.

 

Do I really want to?

 

The scarlet blade wavered once more, and was extinguished.

 

“I will keep you alive,” A’tro decided, “and we’ll see if you can earn my trust again.”

 

Quinn climbed cautiously to his feet. “My lord, I—I was not expecting this.”

 

“Spare me the gratitude,” A’tro snapped. “You might still prove useful, that’s all. Now, let’s head back to the ship. We will say nothing of this to the others.”

 

“Yes, my lord,” Quinn murmured, and followed her out.

 

I can’t blame him, A’tro thought miserably as they walked back to the Alecto. The pain of her injuries was nothing compared to the pain in her heart. It’s my own fault for trusting him, for letting myself get so close to him.

 

I have only myself to blame for this.

Edited February 7, 2013 by Vesaniae

[bright_ephemera]

 

Quinn shrugged. “This was Baras’ plan, not mine. However, I admit that you made my decision to follow his orders considerably easier.”

 

One big ouch.

 

I love how the timing worked out in this storyline, and I love both of these last two entries.

[Vesaniae]

Please, please, please destroy Telos. I hated the planet in KotOR 2 even more then I hated Taris.

I'll see what I can do...

 

So jealous. Jealous Quinn is fun.

I know right?

 

One big ouch.

 

I love how the timing worked out in this storyline, and I love both of these last two entries.

Thanks

 

I'm in a writing frenzy trying to get as much posted as I can before I have to take a week or so hiatus, thus the deluge of updates.

 

Twelve - Priorities

Telos

12 ATC

 

They’d been on Telos for two months, and the war was going well. The Republic was fighting furiously, of course, but they were slowly being pushed back. Every day, the bubble of Imperial-held territory surrounding the initial landing site expanded a little farther.

 

The latest expansion of the Imperial sphere of influence involved the destruction of a Republic outpost, located just outside the current boundaries of Imperial territory.

 

A’tro studied the map with interest. “Do we have an estimate of the Republic’s numbers?”

 

“Not an exact one, my lord,” Merrik said. “Reconnaissance indicates that it’s rather heavily guarded, however.”

 

A’tro smiled. “Lovely.” She turned around. “Pierce, Quinn, we’re going for a walk.”

 

 

*****

 

The Republic forces never knew what hit them.

 

A’tro moved through the building at a run, lightsabers whirling in a deadly dance. Pierce jogged behind her, mowing down any opposition that managed to get by, while Quinn brought up the rear.

 

A’tro let herself get caught up in the rush of battle, the exhilarating feel of power that came from utterly dominating one’s enemies. The dark side surged through her veins, heightening her senses. This was what she lived for, the thrill of riding the crest of the wave, of staring death in the face and never backing down.

 

She kept it all under tight control, however. Her passion was a fuel for the fire within, but she did not let the smoke cloud her vision. She was not a mindless berserker; she was Sith, a predator on the hunt.

 

She moved down one of the outpost’s corridors, eliminating the Republic forces as she went.

 

The corridor abruptly opened up into a large room, and she stopped short. The room was completely empty. Her danger sense tingled, and she looked at her companions.

 

“Thoughts?” she asked.

 

“I suspect a trap, my lord,” Quinn said immediately.

 

Pierce frowned. “Hm. Could be an ambush,” he said, sounding reluctant to agree with Quinn. “Then again, we have them on the defensive. They wouldn’t regroup here—no cover.”

 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” A’tro said. “I think we should find an alternate route—“

 

There was the sound of an explosion. A’tro turned around to see the corridor behind them give way to a rapidly advancing fireball.

 

Pierce swore.

 

“Inside, quickly!” A’tro snapped, running into the large room. As Quinn and Pierce cleared the threshold, she reached out with the Force and slammed the hallway doors shut behind them.

 

As the explosion reached the doors, they trembled from the force of the blast. The metal turned red-hot, and the walls started to smolder.

 

Suddenly, the ground shook, throwing them all to the floor.

 

“That felt like a bomb,” Pierce said, climbing to his feet.

 

“They must have called in air support,” Quinn said. “My lord—“

 

Another blast made the building shudder. Cracks appeared in the ceiling.

 

“This place is going to collapse!” A’tro shouted.

 

“The structure shouldn’t be this unstable,” Quinn said, frowning. “It must be rigged somehow—“

 

A new series of explosions tore through the air, and the center of the ceiling collapsed.

 

They all dodged in different directions as rubble rained down, blocking off part of the room.

 

A’tro rose to her feet, cursing under her breath. “Quinn! Pierce!” she shouted.

 

There was no reply.

 

She looked at the pile of rubble. She could probably cut through it, given time.

 

Smoke was filling the air, and flames were starting to creep up the walls. The building was on fire.

 

By the time she got through the debris, it might be too late to escape. Once the fire ignited any chemicals that were stored in the outpost, the resulting smoke would overwhelm even her.

 

They’re my men, she thought desperately. I can’t just leave them.

 

The loss of two soldiers, even two soldiers as gifted as Quinn and Pierce, would not have much of an impact on the overall war. The loss of the Emperor’s Wrath, however…

 

“I’m sorry,” A’tro whispered, and ran.

 

She encountered a few Republic soldiers fleeing the base, and cut them down. She kept running until the outpost was far behind her. Then she turned around, gasping for breath, only to see the building completely engulfed by a massive explosion.

 

“No,” she rasped. Surely they got out. They can’t be dead. They can’t be…

 

She heard the sound of a lightsaber igniting behind her, and instinctively leaped to one side just as a blue blade sliced through where she had been standing.

 

The Jedi’s face was obscured by a hood, but the contours of the figure visible through the plain brown robes suggested a humanoid female. She raised her lightsaber in a salute. Then she attacked.

 

A’tro barely had time to draw her own weapons before the Jedi was on her, moving with graceful precision. The Jedi seemed unusually aggressive, but A’tro had faced down overeager Jedi before. She blocked the first few strikes, then caught the Jedi’s lightsaber in the cross of her own blades, staring towards the shadowed face of her foe.

 

The Jedi gasped and disengaged, taking several steps backward. She pushed back her hood, sending black hair tumbling free around her face.

 

It was a face that A’tro knew all too well. She saw it every time she looked in a mirror.

 

“K’saria,” she said grimly.

 

“Hello, K’hera,” her twin sister said softly. “And so we meet again.”

[Vesaniae]

Thirteen – Suspicion

Telos

12 ATC

 

The day after the disastrous assault on the Republic outpost, Pierce turned up.

 

He staggered into the main Imperial base sporting a number of blaster wounds, a twisted ankle, and a smug grin.

 

“The ‘Pubs tried to stop me from getting away,” he told A’tro as a med droid examined his injuries. “Didn’t try nearly hard enough.”

 

“I’m pleased to see you escaped relatively unscathed, Lieutenant,” A’tro said with a small smile. She had to crane her neck to look at him; he had insisted on remaining standing during the droid’s examination.

 

“I’ll live to fight another day, milord.” He paused for a moment. “Too bad about Quinn, though.”

 

A sharp spike of panic flared inside her. “What do you mean?” she demanded. “What happened?”

 

“We were together at first, heading down one of the side hallways after the ceiling collapsed. The Republic was chasing us—blasterfire everywhere. Quinn was right behind me…” Pierce shook his head. “And then he wasn’t. I couldn’t go back, not with the building burning down.”

 

“Of course,” A’tro whispered. “You did what you had to. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you to the medics.” She headed for the exit of the medcenter, reeling in shock.

 

Quinn can’t be dead, she thought. He can’t be… I never wanted him to die…

 

Merrik was waiting for her just outside. “My lord, your apprentice called to report.”

 

“Thank you for informing me,” A’tro murmured, and headed for the room that had been set aside as her private office.

 

Merrik hesitated for a moment, then followed her. “My lord… I overhead your conversation with Lieutenant Pierce. It’s a damn shame.”

 

A’tro nodded. “You’ve known Quinn for a while, right?”

 

“We were at the academy together. It’s a cutthroat place—not as bad as Korriban, of course. But if you want to survive, you have to make alliances.” Merrik smiled faintly. “I’ve always been good at spotting talent. I picked Quinn out at the beginning of first year and stuck with him.” She turned her gaze to the floor. “It’s hard to think that he’s…gone.”

 

“We don’t know that for sure,” A’tro insisted, feeling as if she were trying to convince herself as much as Merrik. “Pierce didn’t actually see him die. He could still be alive.”

 

“If he’s alive, he was probably captured,” Merrik said grimly. “And Quinn would never let himself be taken alive.”

 

“No,” A’tro said softly. “No, he wouldn’t, would he?” She paused outside the entrance to her office. “I assume you’ve tried to raise him via comm?”

 

“Of course,” Merrik said. “No response.”

 

A’tro sighed. “Keep trying. You never know.”

 

“Yes, my lord.” Merrik saluted, and continued down the corridor.

 

A’tro entered her office and accessed the holoterminal located on the desk. She had sent Jaesa to the other side of the warfront, to give her apprentice a taste of operating independently. She had also sent Vette and Broonmark with her as support.

 

After a few moments, Jaesa’s holoimage appeared. “Master.”

 

“How goes the battle, Jaesa?”

 

Jaesa’s eyes sparkled. “Very well. Let me tell you…”

 

 

*****

 

 

After talking to Jaesa, A’tro returned to the medcenter to check on Pierce and hopefully get more details from him as to what exactly had transpired at the outpost. To her surprise, Pierce already had a visitor.

 

“Don’t take me for a fool,” Merrik said dangerously. “I’ve seen enough these past two months to know that the two of you got along like oil and water. The conclusion is obvious.”

 

“You’re mad,” Pierce retorted. “I may not have liked Quinn, but in battle, you have to stick with your comrades, no matter what you think of them personally.”

 

“Yet you failed to ‘stick with’ him all the way out of that outpost.”

 

“I told you,” Pierce snapped, “Republic troops were following us. There wasn’t anything I could do.”

 

“If the Republic forces were behind you,” Merrik said icily, “then explain why there are blaster burns on the front of your armor.”

 

“Those are from our initial assault.”

 

“Those burns were clearly inflicted at point-blank range, Lieutenant. You had a Sith leading your initial assault. The enemy should not have been able to get that close.”

 

“Will someone kindly explain to me what is going on here?” A’tro demanded, striding forward.

 

Merrik turned around and stood attention. “I was simply questioning Lieutenant Pierce about the details of his escape from the Republic outpost, my lord.”

 

Pierce glared at her. “The Major here thinks I killed Quinn,” he informed A’tro.

 

A’tro folded her arms across her chest. “Is that so?”

 

“I thought his story sounded suspicious, my lord,” Merrik said coolly.

 

“I appreciate your desire to uncover the truth, Major,” A’tro said. “However, in the future, please inform me before interrogating members of my crew.”

 

“I apologize if I overstepped my bounds, my lord,” Merrik said. Pierce smirked at her.

 

“Be sure it does not happen again,” A’tro said. “Now, leave us.”

 

Merrik bowed and left the room.

 

Pierce looked at A’tro skeptically. “I hope you don’t believe her, milord.”

 

A’tro shrugged. “I don’t know, Pierce. You’re here, Quinn’s not…and I know you’ve always resented him.”

 

“Resentment is one thing. I wouldn’t go so far as to murder him,” Pierce protested. “Especially not when he’s my only backup in the middle of hostile territory that happens to be on fire.”

 

A’tro nodded slowly. “Very well. I will accept what you say, for the time being. When Jaesa returns, she can verify your story.”

 

“Glad to hear it.”

 

“However,” A’tro continued, “If it turns it that you are lying, and Quinn is in fact dead at your hands, I will execute you personally. Do you understand?”

 

Pierce met her eyes. “Perfectly, milord.”

[Vesaniae]

Fourteen – Inverted Reflections

Telos

12 ATC

 

The meeting place was at the edge of Imperial territory, the burned-out shell of what had once been a Republic walker. Its legs, roof, and two of its walls had collapsed, creating a small sheltered space where two individuals could meet discretely.

 

Of course, the ruin could also conceal an ambush. A’tro kept her hands on her lightsabers as she walked closer, carefully studying her surroundings for any hint of suspicious movement.

 

She rounded one wall to discover that K’saria had arrived before her. Her sister was kneeling in the center of the wreckage, hands folded in her lap, head bowed, apparently meditating.

 

“You’re late,” the Pureblood woman said without looking up.

 

“I had to give the slip to the Imperials,” A’tro answered. She glanced around nervously. “Emperor only knows what they’d think if they knew I was meeting with a Jedi.”

 

K’saria smiled, rising to her feet. “You could always tell them you lured me here to kill me.”

 

“Don’t think I haven’t considered it,” A’tro said darkly. “You are, after all, a traitor.”

 

K’saria shrugged. “You haven’t attacked me yet. I’m optimistic.”

 

An awkward silence fell.

 

Why did I agree to this meeting? A’tro wondered. I spent years dreaming of the day when I’d finally have the chance to kill my sister, and now I’m doing the opposite. She was already on edge because of Quinn, whose fate remained uncertain.

 

“I’ve read some interesting SIS reports about you,” K’saria said. She raised a brow-ridge. “’Darth A’tro, the Emperor’s Wrath.’ Doesn’t sound like you.”

 

A’tro frowned. “It’s been what, six years since we last spoke? People change, K’saria.”

 

“I believe that point was driven home rather effectively when you agreed to this meeting rather than attacking me outright,” K’saria said dryly. “I can sense that you’re calmer now, more in control, than you ever were before. You’ve also acquired a rather interesting scar. Yes, you’ve definitely changed.”

 

A’tro reached up to touch the scar that ran diagonally across her right eye from her forehead to her cheek. “You seem more controlled now, too. I suppose that’s a part of the light side.” She gave her sister a skeptical look. “I see you’re still dyeing your hair. Don’t the Jedi frown on that sort of thing?”

 

“Old habits die hard, it seems,” K’saria said with a small, sad smile. She twirled one black lock around a gloved finger. “Do you know why I started to dye my hair, back when we were in our teens?”

 

“I have no idea. Frankly, I never cared.”

 

K’saria laughed softly. “I wanted to be different from you. Everything I did in those days was to widen the distinction between us. I dyed my hair, so we weren’t completely identical. I specialized in fighting with one lightsaber, because you used two. I went to the Academy a year late so that I wouldn’t have to compete with you.”

 

A’tro stared at her sister for a long moment.

 

Then she started to laugh.

 

“Do you really expect me to believe that?” she demanded. “You were the golden child, the family favorite. Everyone thought you were better than me, and you knew it. They told you how wonderful you were, and you believed it.”

 

“If by “everyone”, you mean our mother, then fine. But you have no idea how much you intimidated me, K’hera.”

 

“K’hera Dhakar is dead,” A’tro said dangerously. “Do not refer to me by that name again.”

 

“Touchy,” K’saria sighed. “For all your apparent composure, you’re still quick to anger over the tiniest of presumed slights.” She smiled slyly. “I suppose that’s a part of the dark side.”

 

“”Through passion, we gain strength,”” A’tro recited. “That will never change. I simply refuse to let my emotions control me.”

 

“That’s a very Jedi attitude.”

 

A’tro glared. “Are you trying to make me angry?”

 

K’saria’s smile widened. “So much for your vaunted self-control.”

 

A’tro took a step forward, her hands dropping to her lightsabers. “I could kill you.”

 

K’saria waved a hand. “Bah. If you wanted me dead, you would have attacked me by now. Face it, I know you better than you think I do.”

 

A’tro unhooked her lightsabers from her belt. “Care to wager your life on that theory?”

 

K’saria sighed. “All right, all right. You’ve made your point. I do apologize for baiting you. As I said before, old habits die hard.”

 

“You’re insufferable, even as a Jedi,” A’tro said flatly. She replaced her lightsabers on her belt. “Or is it especially as a Jedi?”

 

“Is a civil discussion between sisters too much to ask?” K’saria wondered plaintively.

 

A’tro put her hands on her hips. “This meeting was your idea. You want to talk to me, go ahead and talk. I didn’t come here to be antagonized.”

 

“Yes, I imagine you get enough of that from your fellow Sith,” K’saria mused.

 

“If you’re going to proselytize the virtues of the light side, forget it.”

 

“Believe me, I wasn’t going to. I am not exactly the perfect Jedi, myself.”

 

A’tro tilted her head to one side questioningly. “So, why did you defect, anyway?”

 

K’saria frowned. “I… I’d rather not answer that,” she said hesitantly. “It’s difficult to explain.”

 

“Do you ever regret your decision?”

 

K’saria shook her head. “Never. I feel like I’m a part of something now. That’s what being a Jedi means, K’hera—A’tro,” she amended hastily, seeing the other’s glare. “Sith fight for themselves. Jedi fight for something greater.”

 

“I won’t speak for other Sith, but I fight for the Empire,” A’tro snapped. “I’d call that something greater—and considerably less nebulous of a concept than ‘freedom’ or ‘justice’ or whatever it is the Republic preaches these days.”

 

“Now who’s proselytizing?” K’saria retorted.

 

A’tro folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t know what you were trying to accomplish by meeting with me, but this conversation is clearly going nowhere. I’m leaving.”

 

She turned to go, then paused. “The outpost near where you attacked me—have you heard about any Imperials who were captured or killed?”

 

K’saria hesitated, then answered, “The reports describe a Sith—you—and a soldier who escaped the outpost’s destruction. They also mention another Imperial, who apparently did not survive.”

 

A’tro closed her eyes for a long moment. No. K’saria is lying, she must be… But she wouldn’t lie, she’s a Jedi, and what could she possibly have to gain by lying to me?

 

“I’m sorry,” K’saria said, watching her closely.

 

“I don’t need your sympathy,” A’tro whispered, and walked away.

[Vesaniae]

I've been looking forward to posting this chapter since the moment I created this thread. Three versions and innumerable small revisions later, I deem it suitable for public consumption. Enjoy.

 

Fifteen - Matters of Conscience

Telos

12 ATC

 

A’tro sat at her desk in her office at the Imperials’ main base of operations on Telos. She re-read Jaesa’s latest report for the fourth time, trying to distract herself. After three days of grief and rage, a peculiar numbness was setting in. She was not sure what to make of it.

 

It was late in the day. Outside, the sun would be setting. She looked at the report, trying to focus on the words.

 

Someone tapped on the door.

 

“Enter,” she called absently. She heard her visitor walk in, the door sliding shut behind them. With an inner sigh, she turned around to deal with whoever it was.

 

“Reporting for duty, my lord,” said Malavai Quinn.

 

He looked rather worse for wear; his uniform was peppered with small burns, he had a bandage on one arm, and there was a nasty-looking bruise on his face. But it was him, and he was alive.

 

A’tro felt her mouth drop open in shock. “You made it,” she breathed, her heart fluttering.

 

“I apologize for not coming to see you sooner,” Quinn said. “I encountered Major Merrik on my way here, and she ordered me to report to the medcenter first.”

 

“If she hadn’t, I would have,” A’tro said, stepping closer to him. The tension of the past three days slowly ebbed away, leaving her feeling strangely buoyant. “You look like you’ve been through hell.”

 

Quinn grimaced faintly. “Yes. Well. After Pierce and I were separated, I stumbled upon the Republic’s armory. I was able to use some of their ordinance to break through the base’s wall and allow me to escape, while the enemy believed that I had not survived the explosion. Not one of my better plans, I’ll admit, but—”

 

A’tro strode up to him, eyes blazing. She grabbed him by the collar, and yanked his face down close to hers.

 

“Don’t—ever—do—that—again,” she whispered, then kissed him.

 

After a long moment, she stepped back. Quinn was staring at her, a faint blush creeping up in his cheeks.

 

“My lord, this is hardly appropriate,” he protested.

 

“I couldn’t care less what’s appropriate,” A’tro retorted.

 

“My lord, please,” Quinn said in a low voice. “Don’t do this, not again.”

 

“What do you mean?” A’tro asked warily, her good mood disappearing.

 

“Considering how your previous attempt to progress our relationship beyond a strictly professional level fared, I’m surprised you need to ask,” Quinn replied coldly.

 

Anger flared inside her. “You’re blaming me?” she demanded. “You tried to kill me!”

 

“Only after you had made it perfectly clear that you wanted nothing more to do with me—”

 

“You think that justifies—“

 

“—and you were right to do so,” Quinn finished. “A Sith in your position cannot afford to be tied down in such a way.”

 

“Do not presume to dictate to me what a Sith can or cannot do,” A’tro said dangerously.

 

Quinn inclined his head. “I was simply recalling your own arguments in favor of ending our relationship, my lord.”

 

How was it that he was able to make her so angry? Already, her emotional control felt strained. The temptation to simply give in and let her passions take over was strong, clouding her rationality.

 

“I’m disappointed, Quinn,” she sneered. “Is that the best you can do? Throw my own words back in my face?”

 

Quinn drew himself up. “I have no interest in being toyed with, my lord.”

 

A’tro shook her head. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

 

“I would not presume to question your motives, my lord.”

 

“Look, damn it, let me try to explain,” A’tro said. “What happened on Voss was a mistake. What you said…well, I panicked. I certainly never wanted to hurt you.”

 

Some indefinable emotion flickered across Quinn’s face for the briefest of moments. “Nevertheless, what you did was for the best,” he said quietly. “I respectfully ask that you not force the issue.”

 

A’tro folded her arms across her chest. Enough subtlety, she decided.

 

“Do you still have feelings for me?” she asked bluntly.

 

Quinn looked startled. “I—that is—my lord, that is entirely irrelevant,” he stammered.

 

“Is a simple yes or no too much for you?”

 

“My lord, with respect, I will not answer that question.”

 

A’tro looked at him intently. “And if I order you to answer?”

 

“I…don’t believe that you will do that, my lord.”

 

“I’ve proven you wrong before,” A’tro said flatly. “As the fact that I’m still alive can attest.”

 

Quinn lowered his gaze to the floor.

 

“Which reminds me,” she continued. “Suppose I really am just toying with you right now, suppose I feel nothing for you at all. Why do you think that I let you live?”

 

“I truly have no idea, my lord,” Quinn murmured. He glanced up at her. “All previous experiences indicated that you are not inclined to show mercy to those who have crossed you. I did not expect to survive that encounter, yet you spared me.” He shook his head. “Your one mistake, despite your otherwise impeccable judgment.”

 

A’tro looked at him incredulously. “So you saw it as a suicide mission.”

 

Quinn shrugged. “I anticipated death, and believed myself prepared for it, my lord.”

 

“You—“ A’tro shook her head. “Don’t tell me you wanted to die.”

 

“Of course not! I simply don’t understand why you would let me walk away after what I did.”

 

“Because I love you, you heartless bastard!” she snapped.

 

Quinn stared at her, wide-eyed. “What?”

 

“You heard me,” she said grimly. “Although, considering your reaction, perhaps I ought to reconsider.”

 

Quinn took a deep breath. “My lord, this—this does not change anything. Resuming our relationship would not be a good idea.”

 

“Surely I’m worth a little risk?” she asked dryly.

 

Quinn frowned. “I have only your best interests at heart, my lord.”

 

“What if I told you that the impropriety of our relationship is nowhere near what you think it is?”

 

“It’s not about propriety. It’s about the dangers that emotional attachments can create in a life-or-death situation.”

 

A’tro rolled her eyes. “Quinn, you secretly worked for my greatest enemy for more than a year, then tried to kill me only hours after telling me that you loved me. If that’s not proof that you’re capable of detachment, I don’t know what is.”

 

Quinn shook his head. “No.”

 

“I thought you loved me,” she whispered. The words felt pathetic—a desperate plea, one last attempt to convince him when he had clearly already made up his mind.

 

I am Sith, she thought determinedly. I have my pride. I will not beg him to take me back.

 

“I do,” Quinn said softly, coldly. “But for the sake of your reputation and your missions, things should remain as they are between us.”

 

A’tro turned around, suddenly unable to bear looking at him any longer. “Fine,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “If this is really what you want, I will respect your wishes.”

 

“I believe that this is for the best, my lord.” He hesitated for a moment. “If I’ve said anything to hurt you, I am sorry—“

 

“You’re dismissed,” she interrupted.

 

She heard Quinn comply wordlessly. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, she started to laugh.

 

“Too little, too late,” she gasped. “All for nothing. All of it…”

 

She continued laughing until her sides started to ache and tears were running down her face.

[bright_ephemera]

Dear Quinn:

 

You are still an irredeemable bastard.

 

Warmest regards,

Yet another female Sith Warrior.

 

...I like how this scene went down. That freaking brick wall...argh.

[irishfino]

Yay he's alive!

 

...

 

What the fu-

*dunks Quinn's head in the toilet*

[Vesaniae]

Yup, Quinn's a jerk. A well-intentioned jerk, but a jerk nonetheless. He's due for some karmic comeuppance in a couple of chapters. You'll have to wait about a week, though--my hiatus starts tomorrow.

 

In the meantime, have an interlude. In case it's not clear from the text, this bit takes place during the Chapter Two interlude--so after the death of Darth Vengean, but before Baras sends A'tro into a trap on Quesh.

 

Interlude - Flashback: The Fall

Vaiken Spacedock

11 ATC

 

Lord A’tro hoped that one day in the near future, her life would consist of something more interesting than hunting down people against whom Darth Baras held a grudge.

 

There is no excuse for Hoth, no excuse, she thought grumpily. I spent far too long traipsing around that blasted planet just to enact someone else’s revenge. ‘Plan Zero’, my lightsaber… I am not going to spend the rest of my life as Baras’ errand girl!

 

Still, she had to admit that the rewards were not too bad. She was leaning against one wall of Vaiken Spacedock’s most exclusive club, a drink in one hand. After all that they’d been through, she’d decided that her crew deserved a chance to relax and unwind.

 

Well, some of them were relaxing. Pierce and Vette seemed to be enjoying themselves—no surprise there—and Jaesa was making a game attempt at pretending that she knew how to have fun. A’tro was pleased with the progress she’d made in loosening up. If only she could break her of the habit of doing that little wince every time she killed someone…

 

A’tro shook her head and took a sip of her drink, surveying the crowded room. There were plenty of other Sith in the establishment, all of whom looked like they were having a good time. A few years ago, she might have approached some of them, but she didn’t feel like that person anymore. Somehow, after everything she’d been through, parties just didn’t seem fun.

 

Instead, she found her gaze turning to her left, to where Quinn stood several meters away. He had his back to the wall and a glass in one hand, though A’tro had a feeling that he hadn’t touched the contents. She took a moment to admire his profile; his face was expressionless, as usual. She wished that she could sense his emotions, but her perceptive abilities were terrible, and Quinn’s self-control was much too strong.

 

That man is far too attractive for his own good, she thought wryly. She noticed quite a few women sneaking discreet glances in his direction, including several Sith. One of the latter said something to her companion and started to head across the room.

 

“I don’t think so,” A’tro muttered under her breath, and stalked over to join Quinn.

 

He acknowledged her with a respectful nod. “My lord.”

 

“You look bored, Quinn,” A’tro said. She looked over at the other Sith and gave the woman a glare. Mine.

 

Quinn frowned. “If I may be frank, my lord…”

 

A’tro waved a hand. “Yes, of course.” The other Sith retreated back over to her friend. Both of them gave A’tro envious looks.

 

“I fail to see the point of all this,” Quinn said, gesturing at the crowd. “We’re at war, and yet Sith and soldiers alike are wasting time in this…place.”

 

A’tro shrugged. “We’re waiting on Baras’ orders; they could be in similar situations.”

 

“I see your point, my lord. I still don’t like it.”

 

A’tro gave him a sidelong glance. “Life can’t be grim all the time, Quinn, war or no war. Even I need to relax sometimes.”

 

“I have yet to witness that, my lord,” Quinn murmured, so softly that she barely heard.

 

Am I hallucinating, or did Quinn just make a joke? “Do you have a problem with my work ethic, Captain?” she asked with mock sternness.

 

Some combination of her tone and the use of his title prompted Quinn to stand slightly straighter. “No, my lord, of course not. Your dedication to the Empire is most inspiring.”

 

“I’m pleased that you think so highly of me,” she said dryly.

 

“I’m serious, my lord,” Quinn said earnestly. “You are without a doubt one of the finest commanders I’ve ever served under.”

 

A’tro gave him her most flirtatious smile. “Is it my leadership skills that impress you so much, or is it me?”

 

That flustered him, as she had expected. “My lord, I—I really don’t—“ he stammered.

 

“That’s what I thought,” she murmured.

 

There was a long pause. A’tro looked around the room. “There’s no reason for you to stand here if you’re not enjoying yourself,” she said. “You’re free to leave.”

 

“I believe I will, then,” Quinn said. He made a small bow. “My lord.”

 

A’tro waved at him, then moved towards Jaesa and the others.

 

 

*****

 

 

Being a Sith Pureblood, A’tro had a remarkable constitution. This included a high tolerance for alcohol. Thus it was that she awakened the next morning cheerful—well, as cheerful as A’tro ever got—and free of unpleasant side-effects.

 

She exited her quarters to find the ship’s main space to be empty. Wandering around, she discovered that Pierce had not returned to the ship at all. Broonmark was in the cargo hold, looking at something on a datapad. The Talz glanced up and blrrped at her in acknowledgment as she passed.

 

Jaesa and Vette were in their respective quarters, both sound asleep. A’tro remembered helping the former stagger back to the Alecto well after midnight, and chuckled to herself. Her apprentice was going to have one hell of a hangover.

 

She found Quinn in his usual location at the helm, engrossed in one of the consoles. To her surprise, he did not immediately acknowledge her presence.

 

“Hello, Captain,” she said.

 

Quinn looked up and slowly turned to face her. “My lord,” he said quietly.

 

A’tro frowned. Even with her shoddy perception, she could sense anxiety radiating from him. “Is everything all right?” she asked.

 

“There’s a matter of some seriousness that I need to discuss with you, my lord,” he answered.

 

That doesn’t sound good. “You can discuss it now, if you’d like.”

 

“That would probably be best. My lord, I have been thinking, and…” Quinn trailed off, then started again. “I must officially request to be reassigned.”

 

A’tro’s eyes widened in shock. That was the last thing she had ever expected to hear. “What—you—why?” she spluttered.

 

“I am compromised,” Quinn said, frowning. “I—I’m forced to admit that thoughts of you have begun to…distract me.”

 

She hadn’t been expecting that, either.

 

“My feelings affect my ability to concentrate,” Quinn continued. “I cannot in good conscience continue to serve.”

 

The part of A’tro that had always wondered if he really was interested in her was squealing with joy. The rest of her was exasperated. “If you really feel that strongly about me, you could have said something earlier,” she said, annoyed. “Force knows I’ve made it obvious that I like you.”

 

“You are a Sith Lord. That makes you my superior from both a military and a social standpoint. I’m in no position to make that kind of assertion.”

 

“And if I wanted you to?” A’tro demanded, taking a step closer to him.

 

“My lord, the risks…” Quinn started.

 

“It’s always the risks with you,” she snapped. “Always thinking of what might happen, never focusing on what you’ll gain.” She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him.

 

“To not consider the dangers involved with something of this magnitude would be foolishness,” he replied. “If we were…involved, both of our lives could be put in jeopardy.”

 

“I never took you for a coward,” she said quietly.

 

Quinn paled visibly, and she sensed a quick burst of anger from him. “Is that really what you think of me, my lord?” he asked.

 

A’tro shrugged. “Your reluctance to confront your feelings suggests to me a certain degree of fear, yes.”

 

“I see,” Quinn murmured. “An understandable conclusion.”

 

A’tro shook her head. “I’m disappointed, Quinn.”

 

Quinn’s eyes widened, and he stood very still for an instant.

 

Then he moved.

 

The next thing she knew, she was pressed against him, her arms around his neck, and he was kissing her as if he would never have another chance to do so.

 

After an all-too brief eternity, they parted. Quinn gently set her down—she hadn’t even realized that her feet weren’t touching the ground—but he kept holding onto her, which was good, because she thought that her knees might have given way. She rested her head against his chest and tried to remember how to breathe.

 

“I take that all back,” she whispered. “You are a wonderful, wonderful man, and do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to do that?”

 

“I hope this redeems your opinion of me, my lord,” Quinn murmured.

 

“It certainly does,” A’tro said, smiling up at him. “Again, please.”

Edited January 20, 2013 by Vesaniae

[Vesaniae]

This will be the last chapter I post before a hiatus of a week or so.

 

Sixteen – Ripples

Telos

12 ATC

 

Once A’tro had finally managed to stop her fit of hysterical laughter, self-deprecation had given way to abject misery. She slumped into her chair and rested her chin on her hands, wondering how everything had gone from being wonderful to terrible so quickly, and silently cursing Quinn.

 

She looked up as the door slid open.

 

“We’re back!” crowed Vette as she strolled into the room. “Jaesa’s talking to the Moff guy. What did I miss?” She wandered over to the desk, then stopped short as A’tro’s bloodshot eyes and dejected expression fully registered with her brain.

 

“Um…are you okay?” Vette asked concernedly.

 

A’tro shrugged.

 

“Right. Okay. Damage control,” Vette said, clearly thinking out loud. She walked over to the door, closed and locked it, then returned to A’tro. She hopped up on the desk. “Start talking.”

 

“It’s nothing—“

 

“Skip the part where you pretend that nothing happened and everything is fine, because it’s clearly not.”

 

“It’s...something of a long story.”

 

Vette crossed her arms. “I’ve got time.”

 

A’tro opened her mouth to argue further, but instead found herself explaining everything. Vette’s expression grew darker with every word.

 

“…and then I told him to leave, and he did,” A’tro finished. She glanced over at the wall chrono. “That was about half an hour ago.”

 

“Wow. I…I’m honestly at a loss for words right now,” Vette said in astonishment.

 

“Never thought I’d hear that from you, Vette.”

 

Vette shook her head, sliding down off the desk. “Come here,” she ordered.

 

A’tro got up and slowly walked towards the Twi’lek. Vette promptly hugged her.

 

“What—what are you—“ A’tro spluttered, tensing.

 

“This is what friends are for,” Vette told her. “I know, it’s not very Sith-like, but just this once, can we assume that I know best?”

 

A’tro sighed and forced herself to relax, tentatively hugging Vette back. It felt odd to let herself go like this, to show even some of her emotions to another person. She had to remind herself that Vette was not Imperial, would not condemn her for her weakness…

 

With that thought, she started to cry. Vette looked startled, then made soothing noises.

 

“Shh. It’s okay,” she said softly.

 

“I thought everything would be fine,” A’tro whispered. “I really believed it…”

 

“I know,” Vette said gently. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

 

 

*****

 

 

After A’tro managed to pull herself together, Vette excused herself and took a walk through the base. The Imperials recognized her as one of the Wrath’s people and refrained from any comments they might have otherwise made, which was good, because she was seething with anger.

 

She had been with A’tro from practically the very beginning, and she had never seen her break down like that. Never.

 

And it’s all thanks to that worthless excuse for a human being, Captain “I’m-too-professional-for-basic-emotions” Quinn, Vette thought furiously. What the hell does she see in him?

 

She considered A’tro a friend. In fact, the older Pureblood woman was practically a sister to her. The thought of her being so utterly devastated made Vette’s blood boil. It was time for payback.

 

Maybe I have been hanging out with Sith too much, she thought wryly, if the first thing that comes to my mind is revenge…

 

A plan came to her, and she had to suppress a satisfied smirk. Yes, that would do nicely. A’tro wouldn’t be happy, but she wasn’t thinking clearly, anyway. Quinn was bad news, and that was that. It would be better for everyone if A’tro could just get over him.

 

It’s for her own good, Vette told herself righteously.

 

She entered the medcenter and walked over to where Pierce was still recuperating after his narrow escape from the Republic outpost.

 

“Hey there, big guy,” she said. “Still laid up, I see?”

 

Pierce shrugged. “Only for a little while longer. Can’t wait to be back in action.”

 

“I’ll bet. Listen, there’s something I think you ought to know.”

 

Pierce raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

 

Vette nodded. “Remember about a year ago, when we were trying to get to Corellia? And Quinn and A’tro ended up going to that transponder station or whatever it was called? Turns out there was a little more to it than that…”

 

 

*****

 

 

“You wished to speak with me, Moff Drayle?” A’tro asked. After her talk with Vette, she was feeling enough like herself that she responded to Drayle’s request for a meeting in the strategy center without hesitation.

 

“Yes, my lord,” the Moff said. “Our reinforcements have arrived, and I wanted to introduce you.”

 

“I wasn’t aware we needed any reinforcements.”

 

“Technically, we don’t. But this should expedite things quite a bit.” Drayle ushered forward a figure dressed in distinctive red armor. “May I present General Terras Iralion, of the Imperial Guard. He and his men have just returned from Ilum.”

 

“My lord Wrath, it is an honor,” Iralion said. He removed his helmet, revealing a dark-skinned man who looked to be in his early forties, and bowed deeply.

 

A’tro inclined her head. “A pleasure to meet you, General. I look forward to working with you.”

 

“Likewise,” Iralion said, smiling briefly. “With your permission, my lord, I’d like to place two of my best Guards directly under your command.”

 

Well, that could be interesting, A’tro thought. “You have my permission, General,” she said. “I have faith in your men’s capabilities.”

 

Iralion gestured to two of the four Guardsmen accompanying him, and they stepped forward. “This is Vorin Janeth and Arden Zariel,” he said. “They’ve worked together for years. I’m sure that you’ll be pleased with their abilities.”

 

Janeth and Zariel bowed in unison.

 

“If you’ll excuse us, my lord,” Drayle said, “I will explain the details of the situation here to General Iralion.” He ushered Iralion away.

 

A’tro gave the two Guardsmen an appraising look. “So, you’re under my command now.”

 

“Yes, Lord Wrath,” the taller of the pair said.

 

A’tro frowned. How am I supposed to tell which one of them is which? “Introduce yourselves,” she told them. “And helmets off, please—I’d like to see who I’ll be dealing with.”

 

After a moment of hesitation, they complied. To A’tro’s surprise, the shorter Guardsman was in fact a woman.

 

“Arden Zariel, at your service, my lord,” she said. A nasty-looking scar was partially visible around the edges of a cybernetic implant covering the right side of her face. She had short black hair streaked with silver, and dark blue eyes.

 

“And I’m Vorin Janeth,” her partner said. He had a hard, angular face and steely gray eyes. His hair was shaved close to his head, and he had a spectacular set of scars that slashed across one cheek and up over the top of his head, as though some creature had raked its claws across his face.

 

Well, it ought to be easy enough to tell them apart. I didn’t know there were women in the Imperial Guard.

 

“All right,” A’tro said. “I’m sure we will work well together. Report to my office—one of the officers can tell you where. I will give you orders shortly.”

 

Janeth and Zariel replaced their helmets, saluted, and moved away, all in perfect unison. They must have practiced the maneuvers. The psychological effect was diminished somewhat by their slight height difference, but it was still impressive.

 

A’tro watched them go until she noticed that the officer they were approaching for directions was Quinn. When had he come in? She shook her head and walked over to join Drayle and Iralion.

 

 

*****

 

 

Quinn gave the two Guardsmen directions to the Wrath’s office, making an effort to keep his eyes firmly fixed on them and not on where A’tro was standing a few meters away.

 

“Thank you, Captain Quinn,” the Guard who had done the talking said.

 

Quinn started. How did he know his name? “I’m glad to be of assistance, sir,” he said.

 

“Ah, I see you don’t recognize me,” the Guard said. “Vorin Janeth. Remember?”

 

“I remember, sir,” Quinn said automatically. His gaze went to Janeth’s silent partner, and he suppressed a flicker of anxiety. If Janeth was here, then the other Guard could only be…

 

“Hello, Malavai dear,” Arden Zariel said. “I’d like to talk to you when you’re off duty.”

 

Quinn swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

 

She chuckled softly. “Good boy.” She and Janeth moved away, and Quinn was left with the uncomfortable sensation of having a new and unexpected variable thrown into a previously balanced equation.

 

“Uh oh,” said Merrik’s voice from behind him. He turned to look at her; she was smirking. “That was your mother, wasn’t it?”

 

“Yes,” Quinn said resignedly. “Yes, it was.”

 

 

 

Hehehe... That's sort of a cliffhanger, isn't it? Fun fact: I was originally going to introduce Janeth and Zariel in the first chapter as A'tro's new bodyguards, but I decided to hold off on having too many OCs before the main character had firmly established herself.

As for what lies in store...well, let's just say that Arden is not happy with her son, not happy at all.

Edited August 27, 2012 by Vesaniae

[irishfino]

Oh, snap. Moms are scary. LOL

[Earthmama]

We'll miss you while you're gone! Looking forward to more when you get back to us!

[Vesaniae]

I have returned!

 

Well, sort of...I'm still pretty busy. Blargh. However, I once again have access to a computer and the Internet, so the story shall continue! The next chapter will go up...probably sometime tomorrow or Monday. I really want to get that scene right, and I'm not at all happy with the first draft. What can I say, I'm a perfectionist when it comes to writing.

 

I see that this thread has acquired over 1000 views. As promised on page 2 or whatever page it was...

 

EGO EXPLOSION!!!

 

I'd like to thank everyone who has commented: SveinEternity, kabeone, bright_ephemera, irishfino, Arator, and Earthmama. (Did I miss anyone? ) Thanks so much, it really makes my day to see a reply to my little thread. Also, my thanks to everyone who reads but doesn't comment. (Is there anyone?) It's amazing to think that somewhere, someone is looking at their computer screen reading words that I wrote.

 

<3 everyone. Everyone.

[Vesaniae]

All right, guys. Here's a chapter. It's not the chapter that I was originally intending to post, but I decided it will be better to have that one take place afterwards. This is a bit short compared to the past few entries. I'm sorry.

 

 

Seventeen - Once More, With Feeling

Telos

12 ATC

 

 

It had been almost an entire local day since A’tro’s disastrous conversation with Quinn, and she was rather proud of how well she had managed to distract herself.

 

She leaned close to the map that the scouts had fabricated of a major Republic fortification. She had removed her gloves, and carefully manipulated the delicate holo with bare fingertips. If the Imperial forces destroyed this base, the Republic would have no choice but to call for reinforcements from offworld. Given the present state of the war in nearby systems, such reinforcements would not be quickly forthcoming.

 

A knock on the door made her look up.

 

“Yes?” she said, annoyed at being interrupted.

 

Quinn stepped inside the room, shutting the door behind him. He stopped well back from her desk and bowed deeply, then stood at attention. Strangely, he seemed to be staring at her hands…or was it simply her imagination?

 

“What can I do for you, Captain?” she asked, deliberately cordial.

 

“My lord,” Quinn said. “I would like to officially request reassignment.”

 

A’tro rose to her feet and put her gloves back on with slow, deliberate motions. Quinn’s eyes immediately shifted to her face. She walked around the desk until she was standing directly in front of him, clasping her hands behind her back in an unintentional mirror of his characteristic pose.

 

“I assume that this sudden desire for a transfer is a result of our previous discussion?” she asked.

 

“Yes, my lord. I believe that given the issues at hand, this is the best possible solution.”

 

Reassigning him would be a graceful way out for both of them. It made perfect sense, just like everything else Quinn ever said. And something about that made A’tro suddenly, irrationally angry.

 

“So, you want to pack up and leave,” she said waspishly. “We’re in the middle of a warzone, Captain. How am I supposed to replace you?”

 

“I’m certain that the other members of the crew will adjust to the change and return to maximum operational efficiency in no time,” Quinn said glibly. “Any complications created by my absence are minimal compared to those that will inevitably arise if I stay.”

 

“I see you’ve thought this through.”

 

“This is hardly a minor matter, my lord.”

 

“No. No, it isn’t.” She paused for a moment, then started to pace back and forth. “This is not the first time that you have requested reassignment, Captain.”

 

“I’m aware of that, my lord,” Quinn said quietly.

 

“You didn’t go through with it, before. Are you truly certain that this is what you want?”

 

Quinn sighed, and his inscrutable mask seemed to give way a little. “Frankly, no,” he said. “My tenure under your command has been the highlight of my career, and it will be a shame to end it. But I do believe that this is ultimately for the best.”

 

A’tro ceased her pacing and turned to face him, fixing him with a glare. “Damn it, Quinn, stop trying to make yourself a martyr!”

 

“I assure you, my lord, that was not my intention.”

 

“Shut up!” she snapped. “I’ve had about enough of your presumption, Captain!”

 

He shifted nervously. “My lord, if I’ve offended—“

 

“Silence!”

 

Quinn’s eyes grew very wide.

 

A’tro drew herself up, wrapping dignity and power around her like a cloak. “You’ve sorted everything into neat little boxes, concocting a solution that you feel will benefit everyone.” She stepped closer to him, making her body language as threatening as possible. “All of this, without any thought as to how this will affect me, to what I want. Have you no respect for me at all?”

 

Quinn paled, but said nothing.

 

“I am a Sith Lord, not some infatuated harlot,” A’tro said coldly. “I decide what is in my best interests, not you.”

 

She moved closer still, until she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eyes. “Regardless of what you think is right, regardless of how you think or feel or act about me, I love you. And I will never let you go.”

 

She turned around and walked back over to her desk. “Your request for reassignment is denied, Captain. Dismissed.”

 

Quinn left the room without another word.

 

 

This chapter originally had a lot more UST, but I like it better this way. It's about time A'tro stopped angsting and got good and mad. For a Wrath, she hasn't been particularly Wrathful thus far. (That's the second time in this thread that I've made that Wrathful pun. I sense a catchphrase. )

[Vesaniae]

Last chapter was unusually short. This chapter is unusually long. You're welcome.

 

Eighteen - Points of View

Telos

12 ATC

 

Quinn stalked down the corridor. He wasn’t sure where he was going; he only knew that he had to get as far away from A’tro as he could, and do his best to remain there. Despite the voice of reason telling him otherwise, he had to believe that if he walked far enough and fast enough, he could escape the creeping sensation of guilt that hounded him.

 

As he passed through an unoccupied corner of the base, he was accosted by Arden Zariel.

 

“Finally,” she said. “I need to talk to you.”

 

“Can it wait?” Quinn asked curtly. He was far from in the mood to deal with his mother at that moment.

 

“No, it can’t,” Zariel said firmly. She grabbed him by the arm and ushered him into a niche just off the main corridor.

 

“Mother, this really isn’t the best time,” he tried to protest.

 

“It’s never a good time with you. That’s why I’m choosing the time, and the time is now.”

 

Quinn sighed, yanking his arm free of her grip. “What is it?”

 

“I assume that you’ve heard about your father’s death?”

 

He nodded.

 

Zariel shook her head slowly. “It’s tragic. Senseless and tragic. Josrik was a good man, and he didn’t deserve to die like that.”

 

Quinn was instantly suspicious. “What exactly do you mean?”

 

She met his gaze evenly. “I know how he was killed, Malavai. More importantly, I know why.”

 

“Frankly, I’m surprised you care,” Quinn said frostily.

 

“Of course I care!” Zariel said indignantly. “We might not have always seen eye to eye, but I would never have married a man whom I did not at the very least respect!”

 

“You didn’t love him, though,” he said accusingly.

 

“I did at first,” she murmured. “Then it all withered away when… But we’re not talking about me. There’s little point in discussing that which has already been said and done.”

 

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that exactly what you’re about to do?”

 

“This is different,” Zariel said coolly. “I know what you did, Malavai. I received a rather threatening message from a certain Darth to inform me of my impending demise. Obviously, his assassins failed. That does not excuse your actions, however.”

 

“Must we go over this?” Quinn sighed.

 

“We must,” Zariel snapped. She took a step forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. “What were you thinking, Malavai? You know the first rule of serving Sith—do not get involved. Stay away from their games and their politics, no matter what. And yet you did precisely the opposite.”

 

“I had no choice!” Quinn said angrily. “I owed Baras a debt—“

 

“A debt that you repaid by betraying your current master.”

 

“I followed the orders that I was given. Nothing more, nothing less.”

 

“She is the Wrath, Malavai. Defy her, and you defy the Emperor. How could you?”

 

Quinn hesitated. To admit that he had agreed with Baras’ views of the Emperor’s ineffectiveness would be sheer idiocy, considering his audience. He decided to try a different tactic. “The Wrath chose not to condemn me for my actions,” he said carefully.

 

“I’m sure she had her reasons,” Zariel said darkly. “The fact remains, you abused her trust. You turned against her. You—“

 

“Save your breath, Mother, I’ve heard it all before,” Quinn snapped. “I’m well aware that what I did was foolish. It was the logical decision to make at the time—“

 

“Enough with your blasted logic!” Zariel interrupted heatedly. “You betrayed the Emperor’s Wrath. You defied the Emperor’s will. It is only through the Wrath’s gracious mercy that you still live.”

 

“I’m aware of that, Mother.”

 

“Awareness is not enough. Remorse is not enough. The Emperor is power. His will is ultimate. By working against one of his chosen, you worked against him.” Zariel shook her head. “That is treason, pure and simple. If you were not my son, I would execute you on the spot.”

 

“How sweet,” Quinn said acidly. “Has it occurred to you that my death would be going against the Wrath’s wishes?”

 

“I respect the authority invested in her by the Emperor.”

 

“Then why are you questioning her judgment?”

 

“The Wrath is not the Emperor. She is only mortal. She is fallible.”

 

“You have no right to speak of her in such a way,” Quinn growled.

 

Zariel raised an eyebrow. “You’re certainly quick to spring to her defense. I suppose that says something about where your loyalties lie. Perhaps you are capable of atoning for your opposition to the Emperor.”

 

“Don’t preach to me about the Emperor. I serve the Wrath first, foremost, and only.” He regretted the words the minute they were out of his mouth. He was already on edge after his conversation with A’tro; he wasn’t thinking rationally.

 

Zariel made a sound like an angry cat and slapped him across the face. He had half expected the blow, but it still knocked him off balance. She’d hit him with her palm instead of with the spiked back of her glove, so he supposed that meant she wasn’t trying to seriously injure him. Her emotional attachment to her child was stronger than her devotion to the Emperor, at least for the time being.

 

There was a moment of tense silence. Then Zariel gasped, eyes widening in horror, her furious expression giving way to one of remorse.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to… I don’t know what came over me.”

 

Zealotry. The Imperial Guard was infamous for it.

 

“It’s all right, Mother,” he said. “I don’t blame you.” In a way, her mind had been conditioned as much as his had been.

 

Zariel shook her head. “I’ve always been so hard on you, Malavai. This whole debacle with Darth Baras made me realize… I know how hard it is to disobey a Sith. I’ve been there.”

 

“You were always in a position to do something, though. You could fight back.”

 

“True enough,” she conceded. “Janeth and I have dealt with our share of traitors. Lord Xhelia, Darth Evendre…the list goes on.”

 

She reached out and gingerly touched his face where she had struck him. “You’re going to have a nasty bruise. Sorry.”

 

Quinn shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

“I know I haven’t been a particularly good parent,” Zariel said, “and for that, I do apologize. Looking back, I don’t think that I was ready to have a child when I did. I don’t know if I’ve ever been ready.”

 

“You don’t have to apologize for anything.”

 

“But I do,” Zariel insisted. “I’m sorry that I was never there for you, that I was always disappointed in you because I wanted a Sith son to inherit Darth Zariel’s legacy. I’m sorry that—”

 

Quinn held up a hand. “Really, Mother, you don’t have to say anything more.”

 

She sighed. “My actions weigh heavily on me. They always have. I just wanted you to know that I regret them.”

 

He frowned. “Much as I appreciate the sentiment…is there a reason why this couldn’t wait until later?”

 

“I’m as busy as you are, preparing for the battle to come. I wanted to speak with you now, just in case.”

 

“Ah, yes. The impending attack on that Republic base.”

 

Zariel looked at him quizzically. “You don’t agree with Drayle and Iralion’s plan?”

 

“I suppose the strategy is sound,” Quinn said dubiously. “In my opinion, the reconnaissance available for that area is insufficient to formulate a suitable plan of attack. Not to mention that we have very little time to prepare.”

 

“The thought had occurred to me,” Zariel admitted. “I suppose they’re counting on the element of surprise.”

 

Quinn shook his head. “Always assume that the enemy knows you’re coming, and plan accordingly. Always.”

 

“I believe that the Wrath had a hand in the strategy,” Zariel mused. “I’m surprised she didn’t consult you.”

 

Quinn winced. “The Wrath and I are…not exactly on good terms at present.”

 

“Because of the…incident?” Zariel guessed.

 

“Not exactly,” he said carefully. “It’s somewhat more complicated than that.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“I’d prefer not to discuss the details. It’s…personal.”

 

Zariel looked at him sharply. “Tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it does.”

 

“I have no idea what you might be thinking, Mother.”

 

“Please, tell me that the two of you are not romantically involved,” Zariel implored him.

 

“Oh, there’s no involvement, believe me,” Quinn said bitterly. “In fact, just before I encountered you, I attempted to request a transfer. She refused to allow it.”

 

Zariel’s eyes widened. “Malavai, she’s the Wrath. She’s been chosen by the Emperor himself! How can you even contemplate leaving her service?”

 

Quinn silently cursed himself for saying too much. He scrambled to think of a way out of his predicament, and found none. “I don’t want to leave,” he said. “But I fear that my continued presence will only cause difficulties.”

 

“Explain,” Zariel said in a tone that brooked no argument.

 

“It’s complicated.”

 

“You’ve already said that,” she pointed out. “I’m your mother, Malavai. You can talk to me.”

 

“Since our conversation began, you’ve belittled me, threatened me with death, and physically assaulted me. I’m not sure that you’re qualified as a confidante.”

 

“Water under the bridge,” she said dismissively. “And you are avoiding the issue.”

 

“There is no issue!” Quinn said hotly.

 

“There had better not be. She’s a Sith, Malavai. Someone like her is above even you.”

 

“Oh, for— What in the Emperor’s name makes you think that there’s something going on between me and the Wrath? First Shari, now you…”

 

“Ah, yes,” Zariel said thoughtfully. “I talked with Sharinet earlier. She told me about a rather interesting evening the two of you had on Dromund Kaas before coming here to Telos.”

 

“She’s always been an insufferable gossip,” Quinn muttered.

 

“Be that as it may, she’s not prone to exaggeration.”

 

“What do you want me to say?” Quinn demanded. “That I’m in love with a woman who is not only one of the most powerful Sith in the Empire, but also my commander?”

 

“Are you?” Zariel asked simply.

 

Quinn debated what do to for several long, agonized moments, then nodded.

 

To his complete and utter surprise, Zariel gave him a pitying look, then moved forward and hugged him.

 

“I am so sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through. Does she know?”

 

“She knows.”

 

Zariel smiled sadly. “My poor Malavai. Sith can be so cruel. I hope she wasn’t too harsh about it.”

 

Quinn’s eyes widened in sudden realization. “It’s not like that,” he explained hastily. “She hasn’t rejected me. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

 

Zariel frowned. “So why exactly did you want to leave, then? Impropriety aside, you do sound rather fond of her.”

 

“Because—“ He hesitated for a moment, then plunged forward. “Because that kind of emotional attachment is a liability, especially for someone of her status. Pursuing a romantic relationship would simply be imprudent, regardless of how we feel about each other.”

 

Surely his mother, of all people, would understand his point of view. She was an Imperial Guard, as consummate a professional as he had ever encountered. Surely she could see the strength of his reasoning…

 

“And you told the Wrath this?” she asked.

 

“I did.”

 

Zariel’s sympathetic expression vanished. “I’m tempted to hit you again,” she said angrily. “Does your brain simply not factor in other people’s emotions? Did it not occur to you how that must make her feel?”

 

“It’s for the best—“

 

“That is not your decision, Malavai.”

 

“Funny,” Quinn mused, “that’s almost exactly what the Wrath said when I spoke with her earlier.”

 

“Then maybe you should listen to her.”

 

“It’s not that simple! She’s a Sith, Mother! You yourself said that she was my superior, and I couldn’t agree more. It didn’t work out before, I don’t see why it would now.”

 

Zariel frowned. “What do you mean, ‘before’?”

 

“It’s a long story.”

 

She reached out and took him by the arm. “We are going to find a more private location,” she said firmly, “and you are going to tell me this ‘long story’. Then perhaps we can figure out a way to resolve this madness.”

 

 

I hope that Arden doesn't come across as too hypocritical in that last bit. She definitely does not approve of the idea of her son having a relationship with a Sith, but she also doesn't want him to be hurt. The two of them really did not get along well during Quinn's late childhood/adolescence, and Arden is carrying around a lot of guilt over that. She was only about 21 when she had him, and she got talked into participating in a scientific experiment because the Zariel family has had a high number of Force-sensitives... And that's the sort of information that I should really be revealing during the story, not notes, so I'm not going to say anything else about that.

Edited August 28, 2012 by Vesaniae

[bright_ephemera]

Ooh. I like Zariel.

 

“Must we go over this?” Quinn sighed.

 

“We must,” Zariel snapped. She took a step forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. “What were you thinking, Malavai? You know the first rule of serving Sith—do not get involved. Stay away from their games and their politics, no matter what.

 

Smart woman.

 

“I’m your mother, Malavai. You can talk to me.”

 

“Since our conversation began, you’ve belittled me, threatened me with death, and physically assaulted me. I’m not sure that you’re qualified as a confidante.”

 

“Water under the bridge,” she said dismissively.

Ah, love in the Empire.

[irishfino]

Why does everything think I'm some sort of experimental reject?

Because you're a bastard.

That's not an answer.

You're an abnormally stiff bastard who fits his uniform too damn well and is incredibly attractive while still being a bastard.

I don't like that answer.

Doesn't make it invalid.

Well it should...

Bastard.

 

 

In other news, I'm enjoying Quinn's torment by his mother. Mom power!

[Vesaniae]

Ooh. I like Zariel.

I always get a bit nervous when introducing an OC, so I'm happy you like her. I'm rather fond of Zariel, myself. She's a no-nonsense middle-aged Imperial lady who can beat the crap out of people with a big stick. Fun fact: In my original conception of her character, she was Force-sensitive. I decided to cut that detail because I wasn't quite sure how Force-sensitivity in the Imperial Guard/Dark Honor Guard works. Naman Fal on Korriban has a lightsaber and a Force-sensitive kid, but the codex entry for the Imperial Guard says that they're all Force-blind...stupid confusing canon.

 

Ah, love in the Empire.

Indeed. The idea of how familial and romantic relationships work between people whose day-to-day lives consist of activities that most of the galaxy considers to be pure evil is something that I find rather fascinating. For instance, at the beginning of IA chapter three,

when you talk to the Minister of Intelligence, if you choose a certain dialogue option he offhandedly mentions his wife. That one seemingly insignificant line set my imagination on fire.

 

Why does everything think I'm some sort of experimental reject?

Because you're a bastard.

That's not an answer.

You're an abnormally stiff bastard who fits his uniform too damn well and is incredibly attractive while still being a bastard.

I don't like that answer.

Doesn't make it invalid.

Well it should...

Bastard.

Lol! I remember the first time I saw the "experimental reject" theory on these forums, I was like "OMG that is the coolest idea ever I am so using that!" So I modified my idea of Quinn's backstory appropriately.

 

Edit: Also, on a totally random note: I was incredibly happy when I realized that the word 'bastard' doesn't get censored, because it meant that the freaking-amazing-if-I-do-say-so-myself line from Chapter Fifteen could be there in all it's glory. Edit edit: good grief I mean its Because I love you, you heartless bastard! <--every Quinn fan's opinion, right there

 

In other news, I'm enjoying Quinn's torment by his mother. Mom power!

Glad you like! When my readers are happy, I am happy! And when I am happy, I write more! And definitely mom power. I was determined to give Quinn his comeuppance, and since A'tro can't bring herself to do anything, it was time for a parental smackdown.

 

I've got a question for you delightful people who comment. What is your impression of A'tro's alignment thus far? I don't really think of things in terms of light/dark in this story, so I'm curious to know what your impressions are compared to how I played her in the game.

Edited August 27, 2012 by Vesaniae

[irishfino]

Edit: Also, on a totally random note: I was incredibly happy when I realized that the word 'bastard' doesn't get censored, because it meant that the freaking-amazing-if-I-do-say-so-myself line from Chapter Fifteen could be there in all it's glory. Because I love you, you heartless bastard! <--every Quinn fan's opinion, right there

I love that it's uncensored as well. I have, however, randomly run into it being censored. Maybe I used it too much or something...

 

I've got a question for you delightful people who comment. What is your impression of A'tro's alignment thus far? I don't really think of things in terms of light/dark in this story, so I'm curious to know what your impressions are compared to how I played her in the game.

She seems grey to me. I haven't seen her snapping necks, but she hasn't been rescuing every puppy she sees either. Dunno, she seems nice enough, lol.

Edited August 27, 2012 by irishfino