Administrative note: Sod the schedule, I need to post until production slows down.
6. In which the men of the house consult with Nalenne
A lieutenant in Taris's muck
Figured somehow he must get unstuck.
When a rampaging Sith
Gave a chance to come with,
He angled a transfer - what luck!
This entry contains spoilers for the Sith Inquisitor's endgame title.
"My lord, your sister will devour me the minute she steps onto the ship."
Nalenne folded her arms and fixed her husband's ghost with a cold stare. "I consider this an acceptable solution. Not optimal, since you would then be yammering at her for the rest of her life, but – wait. Wait, yes, then she’ll know what I had to live with. Eating you would be perfect!"
"Have you considered that simply letting me follow through on my original promises - to serve your interests, to aid you as I failed to do - might resolve my ghostly state?"
"Serve me? You'll, what, rattle your chains at the bad guys until they go away? That'll show 'em. Tomorrow Niselle is coming. And I'm bumping you off. Again."
"And what do I do until then, my lord?"
"Complain, I imagine. Here, have a seat. We need to talk house rules."
She pulled Pierce from his quarters and Broonmark from the cargo bay and sat them both down on the couch. She settled deep in her big cushy armchair. "So here's the thing. The captain here is going to, um, stay, until we figure out how to get rid of him. - Have you tried just leaving?"
"It doesn't work, my lord. Even if I step through the walls out to space, if I drift too far I get pulled back to the bridge."
"So he's stuck," she concluded.
Pierce snorted. "I like this. He'll be no more useless than he already was, and now he can't raid the freezer to finish off every ice cream carton I buy."
Nalenne glared at Quinn. "You told me that must've been Vette!"
Quinn shot a dirty look at Pierce. "I told you a great many things must have been Vette, my lord. I apologize."
"That's it. Time to lay down some rules.”
“I will submit to any terms you set, my lord,” Quinn said meekly.
“Pierce, Broonmark, I'm open to suggestions."
There was this thing the muscles in Quinn’s neck did when he realized he had catastrophically miscalculated. They did it just then, very hard.
“First things first,” said Pierce. “He doesn’t outrank me anymore.”
“Yes I do, lieutenant.”
“No you don’t, captain,” said Nalenne.
Quinn turned to her with an outraged look. “But you just called me…you haven’t forgotten how ranks work, my lord?”
“I fired you. I’m only addressing you by the title for old times’ sake.”
“I would’ve been promoted by now,” grumbled Pierce, “if everyone aboard hadn’t agreed that it would be cripplingly awkward to call me ‘captain.’”
Broonmark leaned over to hand Nalenne the datapad he had modified for translation, then burbled. "Rules: No hiding in walls," she read.
"No watchin' us or eavesdroppin’ from where we can't see him. Ever." said Pierce.
"Both reasonable. I'll add no reporting our activities to outside parties of any kind." She made a face at Quinn.
"I haven't done that in months, my lord,” he said with an air of wounded dignity.
Pierce cupped a hand behind his ear. "What's that, dead-boy? Can't hear you over the sound of how completely worthless your word is. Oh, also stay out of everyone’s quarters.”
“No trying to kill Sith clan,” added Broonmark.
“And no more blaming your own bad behavior on everybody else," said Pierce.
“Is that enforceable?” asked Nalenne.
"Simple. He says something bad about anybody ever, or claims random chance struck, hit him. He's probably lying to cover himself."
"But he's always said a lot of bad things about people."
"Well...yeah. You should've hit him then, too."
Nalenne looked to Broonmark for support. “Sith clan artillery speaks truth,” quorked the Talz.
“Hm. Hit him, you say.” Nalenne threw an experimental kick at Quinn. It passed right through him, of course, while he stood there looking all stern and annoyed. “Seems I missed my chance,” she said sadly.