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06.26.2012 , 08:33 AM | #133
80. In which Nalenne faces the Imperial government

Some courage displays on the field,
As banner, as weapon, as shield.
The more inane kind
Of inflexible spine
Looks much less impressive to wield.

“Yes, my lord, we do maintain genetic samples of everyone in the Imperial military. It’s invaluable for broad population medical studies and certain special programs.”

“No doubt,” Nalenne told the officer in the holo image. “I need access to a genetic sample for a certain soldier.”

“That goes against protocol, my lord.”

“Emperor’s Wrath, peon.”

The officer shifted uncomfortably. “Who did you have in mind?”

“Malavai Quinn, formerly captain, deceased.”

He tapped some console and checked. “I see. I can’t just release this to you, or to anybody. The higher-ups would have my head, and I’d rather die by your hands than theirs.”

“You can release it to me. I’m his next of kin.”

“Oh.” He tapped his console a little more, waited, frowned. “Ah, according to our records, my lord, you ‘divorced him as hard as Sith-ily possible, renounced all possible association with him, declared anathema on his name, and rejected all past or future connection with him.’”

“Well, I changed my mind.”

“I, uh…I don’t…this is very difficult, my lord.”

“Not my problem. I want my husband’s blood.” She considered. “This seems to be a recurring theme.”

The officer swallowed hard. “Yes, um, you can certainly come to the repository on Dromund Kaas. I’m just not sure how much luck you’ll have with the staff there.”

“I have the Dark Side and a really big lightsaber. I don’t need luck.”


Kaas City. The lobby of an Imperial government skyscraper.

“Get me Malavai Quinn’s record.”

The little old woman behind the desk peered up at her. “And you are?” she said, with a voice as sour as her face.

“Darth Nalenne. The Emperor’s Wrath. Short on patience.”

“Did you submit an IRR-284 for this retrieval?”

“No, I’m submitting a ‘Give me what I want.’”

“I can’t do anything without an IRR-284.”

Nalenne drew and activated her saber. “I have an ‘I’. Is that enough?”

“No,” she said primly. “Also, weapons are not allowed in the archive.”

“Are you paying attention to the part where I eat dogs like you for breakfast?”

“Your dietary habits have no bearing on the fact that you are not authorized to access the genetic archives.” She glared. “I am going to have to ask you to leave.”


“If you’re going to be difficult,” she said resentfully, “then here.” She leaned under her desk, shuffled something or other, and came back up with a paper copy of a form. “Fortunately for you, I have a blank IRR-284 on hand. You may fill it out now.”

“Like hell!”

Just then Nalenne’s holo beeped. She was more than willing to answer it rather than looking at the odious little archivist.

It was Broonmark. “Sith clan. Greetings.”

“Broonmark, I don’t have a lot of time. I’m in the middle of something.”

“If archive fails, we have a DNA sample from clan dumbest.”

“What? No. How?”

“Dust bunny hall of fame. (*) We checked oldest entries. Searched every hair. Found hair with remaining follicle. Should be sufficient.” Broonmark looked at the floor. “It is our shame to report that we destroyed all dust bunny champions in our search.”

“I don’t really care about the hall of fame, Broonmark. That’s…that’s perfect.”

“Please keep all personal holo conversations outside,” sniffed the archivist.

“Bloody hell,” said Nalenne, and killed the archivist with a swift Force choke. “I’m done here.”
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---(Ceterum autem censeo, Malavai esse delendam.)--- DELETA MALAVAI EST