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No death, only Wrath: The Helicarrier Chronicles


bright_ephemera

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...I read this and forgot to comment.

Servant Two is one creepy son of a bi-

Be nice. His love is unrequited. It's also Quinn. So, he's like... double screwed.

He's going to remain unscrewed if I have any say in the matter.

You don't and stop being crass.

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CHRONICLES PRESENT, 29: In which Quinn adds a legend to a legend

 

Time period: After Quinn leaves

 

…this concept is going to be too fun

 

 

 

Moff Rillins folded his hands over his considerable belly and gave Quinn an appraising look. "So, General. How do you like being back in the field?"

 

"It's refreshing, sir. It has been a long time since I worked with anything but an uncontrolled blunt instrument."

 

"Most glorious blunt instrument in the galaxy, I hear, but they say that prior to that assignment you were best at precision. Now, you've had your warmup exercises. It's time to talk long-term assignments. Ordinarily a man of your rank would be put in charge of a division or a full field army."

 

"I'm going to be an exception again," Quinn said uneasily. "Aren't I."

 

"You are. There was a special unit we had for a brief time before a crisis in leadership rendered the whole thing impractical. I think, given its unique operating freedom and the mettle of its surviving members, you might be well qualified to lead it."

 

Quinn cocked an eyebrow and spoke quietly. "Them? You're not serious, Moff."

 

"I'm quite serious. I want you to reconstitute Insanity Company."

 

*

 

Moff Rillins made the holo connection to Captain Rutau and stood aside to let Quinn take center stage.

 

The cheerful-looking Rutau saluted crisply; Quinn returned an equally crisp nod. "Captain," Quinn said. "I have long admired your career. You're the one who singlehandedly and single-leggedly took the Okara Droid Factory on Balmorra after your entire platoon was slaughtered by berserk war droids, yes?"

 

"Yes, General, sir. I'm honored you've heard of me," gushed Rutau. "You're a legend among the troops. Mostly for the distinction of having the absolute worst wife in history."

 

Quinn's lip curled downward. "While I have heard of your propensity for throwing away your life, Rutau, I thought you reserved that tendency for combat situations, not conversational ones."

 

"Er." Rutau swallowed hard. "Understood, sir."

 

Rillins cleared his throat. "Rutau has been stationed on Dromund Kaas working as a speechwriter since the latest loss of his leg."

 

"The latest?" said Quinn.

 

"Yes, sir," said Rutau. "Lost that one three times already. Droids just can't seem to resist shooting it. I got a top-of-the-line durasteel replacement this time, I'm sure I'll do better once they let me out in the field."

 

"Captain Rutau is the former commander of Insanity Company," explained Rillins. "I recommend him as XO. All he requires is a little nudge toward self-preservation at times."

 

"General, sir, if you're willing to revive Insanity Company, we're with you all the way." Even in the flickering quality of the holo, Rutau's grey eyes shone with a manic light. "We were the best. The strikes no one else could reach, the offensives no one else could pull off. We never failed the objective. We never gave up. We never retreated."

 

"Which is why only six members of the hundred-and-fifty-man company are still alive," Rillins pointed out. "Please be aware for planning purposes that Insanity Company is technically permitted to withdraw."

 

"Withdrawal is failure," Quinn said reflexively.

 

Rutau beamed. "Then you understand, sir."

 

"Upon reflection there may be certain domestic exceptions to my statement," Quinn said thoughtfully, "but that's beside the point. Where are the rest of the survivors? We need to get to work."

Edited by bright_ephemera
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"Withdrawal is failure," Quinn said reflexively.

...

"Upon reflection there may be certain domestic exceptions to my statement," Quinn said thoughtfully, "but that's beside the point. Where are the rest of the survivors? We need to get to work."

 

Poor Quinn :(

But yay he's a General :D:cool:

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CHRONICLES PRESENT, 30: In which Nalenne's crew makes their priorities clear

 

Time period: After Quinn leaves

 

 

“Tatooine tequila," said Vette. "Fermented dewpr1ckles.”

 

“Bah,” said Andronikos, “that’s nothing. Cortale brandy. Distilled and then aged with Killik chitin.”

 

"They take it out before you drink it, right?"

 

"Well, yeah."

 

"Ha. Ganfarr tequila. The dead nakka stays in the bottle start to finish."

 

"Yeah, but the nakka's good for you. Nutrition and all that. Look at the Rodian stuff, the venom spines in that are a real kick."

 

Vette rolled her eyes. "I've had Rodian tequila. Un. Im. Pressed."

 

"That's probably because you're part of the fourteen percent of the population who are too stupid to appreciate it. I take it you don't do Rodian deathvod, either."

 

"That's not even an alcoholic drink, that's…that's a cross between toxic waste and distilled existential horror. Even Rodians won't drink it. You didn't actually try any."

 

“I did.”

 

“Won’t believe it ‘til I see it.”

 

Andronikos laughed. “I’m not dumb enough to drink it again. Dare you to try, though.”

 

Nalenne finally looked up from her comic book. "Hold on, did someone mention dead nakkas? Those are the furry little worms, right, with the huge bug eyes?"

 

"That's the one," drawled Andronikos.

 

"That's disgusting. It's probably staring at you from the bottle the whole time. Even I don't mix death and alcohol quite that…closely." Nalenne narrowed her eyes. "None of you are bringing booze with dead things in it onto my ship."

 

"Technically," blorped Broonmark, "all alcohol, being fermented from organic matter, is composed of death."

 

Nalenne scowled. "That phrasing is amazing, but it's precisely what I didn't want to hear, Broonmark. Keep your science out of this."

 

"The science of killing is the best science," opined Broonmark.

 

"No," said Vette. "The science of fermentation is the best science. The death is just a side feature."

 

"Agreed," said Andronikos. "Even if you're wrong about almost everything else."

Edited by bright_ephemera
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"Technically," blorped Broonmark, "all alcohol, being fermented from organic matter, is composed of death."

 

....

 

 

"The science of killing is the best science," opined Broonmark.

 

I almost forgot how much I loved your Broonmark. Thanks for reminding me :D

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CHRONICLES PRESENT, 31: In which Quinn recruits a Sith

 

Time period: After Quinn leaves

 

 

"Our first stop is a little planet called Nosovil III." Captain Rutau practically bubbled with excitement on every step of the mission. "Lieutenant Hareth is a pureblood Sith, but Force-blind. She worked up to colonel in the past, but something happened involving the Hero of Tython, and she…well, now she's working a little planet called Nosovil III as a lieutenant."

 

"The Jedi has that effect on people," said Quinn.

 

"That's right, you've met him, haven't you?"

 

"Met and driven from the field, though I was unable to kill him. I can imagine he has ruined many a career."

 

"So they say. Maybe we'll get our shot at him someday."

 

"Yes," said Quinn. "I look forward to meeting him now that I can operate weapons again."

 

*

 

Lieutenant Hareth greeted Quinn and Rutau with an almost cartoonishly tight salute. "Sir," she said. "It's an honor to meet the commander of Insanity Company." Her crimson eyes flashed. "They say it has a higher fatality rate than any unit in the Imperial Army."

 

Quinn inclined his head slightly. "At ease, Lieutenant. I intend to change that statistic. Without compromising work performance, of course."

 

"Oh," she said. She sounded disappointed. "It is the greatest of glories to die for the Emperor."

 

"In my experience," said Quinn, "it is a far more effective use of resources to live for the Emperor. Risking one's life is necessary but discarding it is generally considered inadvisable."

 

"He will grant us eternal life once we are consumed for His glory."

 

Rutau cleared his throat. "Lieutenant, that isn't an official policy that I'm aware of. In fact, I don't think it's true at all."

 

"The one time I died in service of the Empire," added Quinn, "I was not granted any particular advantage."

 

"They do say you're unkillable now, sir," said Rutau.

 

"That's an exaggeration, Captain. It's just that being killed again would be less of an inconvenience for me than for most."

 

"Let me serve you in the Emperor's will," blazed Hareth. "Truly your death and return has marked you as one of the chosen."

 

"Lieutenant," Quinn said coldly, "participation in death cults is strictly forbidden under Army policy."

 

Hareth blinked. "Did I say all that? Of course, sir."

 

"How many of your demotions were imposed as a direct consequence of cultist activities?" Quinn asked suspiciously.

 

"Only two of them, sir."

 

"You shouldn't seek death," Rutau said earnestly. "There's a job to do, Lieutenant. You ought to ignore dying 'til that's done."

 

Quinn nodded. "I did. Now. Are you ready to go? There is a great deal to do."

 

The Force-blind Sith hefted a bag. "Ready to move out, sir."

 

"No dying on the way," Rutau said firmly. "Insanity Company's not even started yet."

 

 

Notes, mild JK spoilers:

Colonel Hareth is Executor Krannus's lover; the Jedi Knight kills her about halfway through Belsavis. Well, Saint Rho found a way to spare her, and she was demoted and reassigned.

 

She was nuts. I want her for this assignment.

 

Edited by bright_ephemera
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32. In which Nalenne is uncharacteristically helpful to strangers

 

Time period: After Quinn returns to life and after he leaves the S.A.B.E.R. Helicarrier

 

Cross-posted to the Short Fic Weekly Challenge thread.

 

 

Nalenne touched down on Nar Shaddaa, just another stop on the way to mayhem. To her considerable surprise, a small balding man darted up the ship's ramp and past her into the holo room. "My lord," he squeaked. "Come back in. We have to talk. In private."

 

"I'm feeling generous, stranger. You have fifty words to not die." Nalenne and the crew gathered round. Andronikos kept his hands on his blasters.

 

"Wait," said Pierce, "I remember you. You're the guy who made that hallucination planet-killer the Wrath had to break back in the day."

 

"Yes. Yes, I am. I'm Doctor Nasan Godera and you have to help me."

 

"Thirty words left," said Nalenne. "More or less, I don't count well."

 

"Two planets are about to be destroyed and I don't know who else to call."

 

"Ooh, where? I want a front-row seat."

 

"No!" squeaked Godera. "Listen to me. I was working on a highly classified project."

 

Pierce perked up.

 

"It was a weapon designed to be installed in a planet to move it out of orbit, irrevocably changing planetary conditions and leading to the destruction of the whole thing."

 

"That's terrible," breathed Jaesa.

 

"We built the prototype on Nosovil IV. It was a good candidate: Low mass, out of the way galactically speaking, and hardly populated at all."

 

"Oh, great. Hardly-populated planets are the best ones to blow up," said Vette.

 

"Sith clan prefers heavily populated," buzzed Broonmark.

 

"I'll assume he just said something outright evil," said Vette.

 

Godera continued. "I had a crisis of conscience just after it was completed. I realized I could never let this be used."

 

"Just like the last fifty things you've prototyped?" Pierce said dryly.

 

"Exactly!" cried Godera. "So I had it buried."

 

"And someone unburied it?" guessed Nalenne.

 

"Not quite. All that material blocked the exhaust."

 

"…It was still running?"

 

"Backup batteries. The staff forgot. Anyway, the weapon won't activate, but complicated reasons having to do with gaping design flaws are building up pressure as we speak. Not only is the whole thing going to blow within hours, on its predicted trajectory the planet will collide with Nosovil III. Billions will die." Godera's eyes filled with tears. "That Sith that the Hero of Tython goes around with started intercepting and summarily hanging up on all my calls for help with this sort of thing months ago. Please, you stopped one of my superweapons once. You can do it again."

 

"I could," Nalenne said slowly, "but I'm a little confused as to why you think I would want to."

 

"There are people on those planets!" He looked tearfully at her unmoved face. "Imperials! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

 

"Doctor, there's one Imperial in this galaxy I care about. The rest are entertainment."

 

"Thanks for that, milord," said Pierce.

 

Nalenne jumped and looked guilty. "You could've been the one I was talking about."

 

"You're a terrible liar, milord."

 

"Okay, two Imperials." Nalenne leaned over to catch Andronikos' eye. "For clarification, I'm not counting you as an Imperial."

 

"Stars, I hope not."

 

"Master," said Jaesa from the coffee table console. "One of those Imperials is on planet."

 

"No. Why would Quinn be assigned to Nowhereville III?"

 

"Nosovil III, my lord," said Godera.

 

"Whatever."

 

"Insanity Company was sent there. Records don't say why." She looked up at Nalenne. "I just thought I'd check, you know, before you let two planets burn."

 

"Collide and partially disintegrate," said Godera. "The burning will be purely incidental."

 

"Lay in a course, Andronikos," ordered Nalenne.

 

"Do we have to? It's just the guy who walked out on you."

 

"Lay in a course," Nalenne said quietly. "I don't like even you enough to say it a third time."

 

"Right." Andronikos disappeared to the bridge.

 

Nalenne turned to Doctor Godera. "Now what do you expect us to do about it? I seriously doubt going down with shovels will help."

 

"You could get your ghost to sneak past the blocks and shut down the power source?" Godera said hopefully.

 

"The ghost couldn't have touched the power controls, he has a body now anyway, and he isn't with us. Try again."

 

"We could blow it up," suggested Pierce.

 

"Somehow I doubt blowing up the thing that's threatening to blow up is going to change the course of events," said Vette.

 

"We break the blockage, Vette. The whatever-it-is will exhaust normally."

 

Godera nodded. "And my staff can disassemble it after the danger is past so it can never be used."

 

"But why wouldn't you leave fully functional superweapons lying around?" Vette asked innocently.

 

"An insightful question," blipped Broonmark.

 

"Listen, milord, remember those megamissiles you wouldn't let me buy back at the pirate bazaar on Hoth?"

 

"Pierce, Andronikos said they would've killed the hyperspace mileage on the ship, and besides that the launchers were ugly as virtue."

 

"What if we just bought 'em for one-time use?"

 

"It's your best chance," said Godera. "Perhaps the only one."

 

Nalenne started for the bridge. "Maybe we can make that detour in time."

 

*

 

The galaxy's most slapdash bolt job secured the missile launchers to the S.A.B.E.R. Helicarrier as it streaked through hyperspace to the Nosovil system. Jaesa made multiple efforts to contact Quinn via holo, but since the reconstruction of the ship's holo they had had a new frequency and Quinn wasn't answering the new one. He would get no warning.

 

Nalenne slid her hands over Andronikos' shoulders as he maneuvered into orbit over Nosovil III, seeking a good shot at the location Doctor Godera pointed out. "If you make this in time," she said, "I'll make it very much worth your while."

 

"Huh. You realize you're offering sexual favors in exchange for rescuing your husband."

 

"Is it going to work?"

 

"Well, yeah, but still. Weird."

 

Pierce, wisely, didn't comment. Instead he flicked another couple of controls at his console. "Targeting systems coming up. And, ready when you are."

 

"Go for it," said Andronikos.

 

The missiles shook the ship so violently upon launch that everyone fell over and most of them bounced into walls. Nalenne scrambled to her feet to grab Godera by the scruff of the neck and drag him to one of the monitoring stations. "Tell me if it worked."

 

"Fixing our damn orbit first," said Andronikos, dragging himself back to the pilot's chair. "Those were ridiculous."

 

"That's the point," grinned Pierce.

 

Godera watched the console anxiously. Nalenne had chewed most of the way through her lip before he finally closed his eyes and relaxed. "The primary exhaust on the planet's surface is clear. It seems to be venting nonviolently."

 

"So everyone on both planets is not going to die."

 

"Not because of me, anyway," said Godera.

 

"Oh," Broonmark blorped disappointedly.

 

"Ordinarily I would just off you now," Nalenne told Godera, "but it's so much funnier to leave you on the loose. Jaesa, drop him off someplace." Nalenne grabbed Andronikos' tunic. "I'll be busy."

 

Vette watched them go and blinked. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but is she about to celebrate the rescue of her husband by banging Andronikos Revel?"

 

"Yup," said Pierce.

 

"…And yet," said Vette, "as of right this moment she is still not the most unethical person on the ship."

Edited by bright_ephemera
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"Which is why only six members of the hundred-and-fifty-man company are still alive," Rillins pointed out. "Please be aware for planning purposes that Insanity Company is technically permitted to withdraw."

 

"Withdrawal is failure," Quinn said reflexively.

 

Rutau beamed. "Then you understand, sir."

 

"Upon reflection there may be certain domestic exceptions to my statement," Quinn said thoughtfully, "but that's beside the point. Where are the rest of the survivors? We need to get to work."

Classic Quinn! Well, post-death Quinn. :D

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33. In which Insanity Company gains two more officers

 

Time period: After Quinn leaves

 

 

"Useless," said the thin-lipped lieutenant, pacing back and forth while he examined a red mark on the inside of his arm. "I can still feel my legs."

 

"No, nono, wait for it." His superior, an Imperial captain, rubbed his hands together and beamed. "Bit of a lead time, sure, but the sneakification is exactly what'll let us spread it far and wide before the enemy knows what they're in for!"

 

General Quinn, Captain Rutau, and Lieutenant Hareth approached the two; Quinn frowned ever so slightly. "Captain. Did you just make up a word?"

 

The round-faced captain turned. "Probably, sir. I do that. You must be General Quinn."

 

"Captain Pandorr, I take it." Quinn looked around the medical lab while he spoke.

 

"That's me! Bioweapons researcher and, apparently, according to my latest orders, medical officer." Pandorr saluted. "I'm so sorry, testing ran late. We'll be ready in just a moment."

 

Quinn looked around. "This is an…uncommonly large facility for such an out-of-the-way place."

 

"All my doing, sir," the captain said happily.

 

"AAAAAUUUGGGAWAAGH!" The lieutenant who had been pacing just moments ago stopped and doubled over, roaring. Quinn's crew looked at him with some concern.

 

Captain Pandorr hopped. Very slightly, but he hopped. "There, what did I tell you?" he burbled. "If that doesn't show 'em, I don't know what will."

 

"Gaargh." The lieutenant staggered forward a few paces, clutching at his stomach. He made it to a nearby table, gripped its edge, forced himself mostly upright. "Better'n the last one, I'll grant, sir," gritted the lieutenant. "Any real soldier worth his salt would still walk it off in hours."

 

"Well, given a few hours our troops can easily clear out an encampment full of 'Pubs who're feeling just like you do now, right?"

 

"There is that, sir." The lieutenant blinked hard and focused on Quinn. "General Quinn!" Rather than saluting, he doubled back over and spent a second hissing in pain. "Lieutenant Ritter. Not quite up to parade spec, sir, but I'll be back up to speed in a few hours. Probably."

 

"If this stuff hasn't killed you yet it probably isn't going to," Pandorr said cheerfully. "That's why you're the optimal test subject. That, and you're even more fanatical than most, so I know you're really giving it your all trying to stay standing."

 

"Captain. You test bioweapons on your own men?" Quinn said flatly.

 

"Oh, just on Lieutenant Ritter, sir. We would test on 'Pubs, but we ran out of them around here."

 

Lieutenant Hareth's red eyes flared. "If you require more servants to submit to death for the glory of the Emperor –"

 

"Denied, Lieutenant," Quinn said shortly. "And if I catch you using Pandorr's inventions for death cult activity, disciplinary measures will be taken." He turned back to Pandorr. "Now. If you were out of Republic test subjects, why not move?"

 

"I've put a lot of thought into the labs here, you know. Very good workspace. I asked to just stay on site until they could find a real humdinger of an assignment for me." Pandorr saluted again, smiling widely. "Never thought it would be the return of Insanity Company, sir."

 

Rutau, looking slightly frightened, ducked a little to try to catch Ritter's eye. "You're going to be all right, Lieutenant?"

 

"Oh, yes, sir." Ritter finally forced himself upright. His weathered face was bloodless but he still talked like he was ready to chew nails. "After the last time Insanity Company blew up I had a tour on Hoth. If that ice-spitting rock couldn't kill me, there's no way this lout can." He jerked a thumb at Pandorr, then blinked and nodded more or less deferentially. "Sir."

 

"Well," Quinn said. "You are both to come with us." He eyed the slightly trembling Ritter. "If you're quite ready."

 

Ritter set his teeth. "So long as there's a job to do, sir, I'm ready to do it."

 

Pandorr clapped him on the back on his way out the door. "This is going to be spectacious, absolutely spectacious!"

Edited by bright_ephemera
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Sources thus far:

 

Lieutenant Rutau (promoted for this story) was the guy with a bad ankle in the Okara Droid Factory. Rather than retreating or seeking medical attention he's all afire with the desire to see the job done.

 

Colonel Hareth (demoted to Lieutenant for this story) figured into the JK line, albeit not very significantly.

 

Captain Pandorr was the bubbly guy on Taris who was delighted to share his scheme of spiking Republic kolto tanks with rakghoul virus. He was just so happy about it!

 

Sergeant Ritter (promoted for this story) is the first questgiver on the surface of Hoth; he's near the flight point. And when you first meet him he's grumbling about what a bunch of "namby-pamby cowards" the other soldiers are. Because no matter the unpleasantness of Hoth, "I got a job to do and by gum, I aim to do it!"

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CHRONICLES PRESENT, 34: In which Jaesa makes a plea

 

Time period: After Quinn leaves

 

 

Quinn answered a holocall from a colleague, only to find Jaesa on the line.

 

"Captain," said Jaesa.

 

"Is something wrong?" said Quinn at the same time.

 

"Oh! No, not at all. Nalenne is fine. I didn't call from the old holofrequency because the old holo blew its records when it got smashed, and, well, you know the comm companies when you're trying to replace holos mid-contract. We just gave up and got a new frequency. I had to get one of your coworkers to route you through so you'd pick up this one." She paused. "I hope you're all right," she said anxiously.

 

"There's no need for concern," he informed her in his characteristic discouraging-annoying-questions voice.

 

"I was afraid of that," she said in her characteristic I'm-making-assumptions-about-your-mental-state-and-now-I'm-going-to-be-'helpful' voice.

 

"Jaesa, if you imagine you're fixing something here, do it quickly. I have drills to conduct in four minutes." He hadn't planned on it, but he could arrange something.

 

"I just wanted to, to send along some of your things. Since you sort of left with only the clothes on your back."

 

"And a few datacards housing incriminating evidence on Pierce, Andronikos, and Broonmark," said Quinn. "I never go anywhere without those."

 

"Um…right. I just, there were some things. Clothes, mostly. Some, um, accessories, stashed here and there." She lifted a pair of particularly ornate shiny Imperial-crest cufflinks. "Are these yours? They seem like yours."

 

Quinn managed to get even paler. "Why were you going through the drawer those were stored in?"

 

"I wanted to surprise Nalenne."

 

"And you were going to do it with her own lingerie?"

 

"No! No, I was just organizing! These were clipped onto one of her…her things, that's all."

 

"I am fully aware of that, Jaesa."

 

"I wanted to sort it out. Now that you're gone the mess is…well, everywhere. Walking down the hallway is a minefield. Nobody can keep track of the unexploded ordnance in all the clutter, and Nalenne's started wearing the same two outfits every day because even 2V can't sort out her laundry as fast as she scatters it. Or rips it or – " She sucked in a breath. "Forget I said that. That – that, you know, underthings, drawer was so tangled I don't think she's managed to pull clothes out in a couple of weeks."

 

"I…am not going to discuss anything about the storage, wearing, or non-wearing of Nalenne's garments. Ever. Are you quite finished rifling through the remains of my married life?"

 

Jaesa made puppy eyes. "Don't say that. This won't last forever."

 

"I truly am impressed by your capability for idealism in defiance of all evidence and reason, but has it occurred to you that it may be best if this does last?"

 

Jaesa looked stricken. "But…who's going to be mean to me if you stay gone?"

 

"If Nalenne hasn't taught you enough independence to seek a solution for that yourself, I can only say that it's time you learned."

 

"You have an answer for everything, don't you."

 

"That's my job." Quinn paused. "As for your concern. She's happier this way." He paused again. "Ah, confirmed. Jedi, I don't know what telepathy your kind are supposed to have, but I do know you think more loudly than anyone I've ever met."

 

"Captain, if you would just come back…"

 

"General," Quinn reminded her.

 

"General." She shuffled her feet a bit. "If you stay away I don't know who's going to clean up the unexploded ordnance."

 

"Perhaps you could do it rather than sifting through her undergarments in your spare time."

 

"I'm much more comfortable handling the – "

 

Quinn interrupted. "Get Pierce to show you how to clean up the weaponry without blowing your own arms off. You know what your job is, so do it." He scowled harder. "That crew desperately needs someone who understands that."

 

"Okay. But that still doesn't solve who's going to be mean to me," Jaesa said glumly. "Be careful out there, General. I miss you."

 

"You…but…" Quinn blinked. "What...I have drills to do as of right now. With people more rational than you."

 

"I thought your people were called Insanity Company?"

 

"They are. My statement stands."

Edited by bright_ephemera
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CHRONICLES PRESENT, 35: In which Nalenne taunts Niselle some more

 

Time period: After Quinn leaves

 

 

"Do you really have to do this?" said Andronikos.

 

"Yes," said Nalenne.

 

"Eh, I guess it's only fair after all her turns." He finished dialing Niselle and wandered back around the couch to lean sideways against the back of it. Nalenne sat by his elbow and looked cheerful.

 

Niselle answered. She was wrapped in a fluffy crimson bathrobe – mottled in interesting ways – and her face was smeared with the bluish goo mask that she swore helped to smooth and clarify her skin, the better to display her Dark Side corruption. "Lenny," she purred. "Nicky. So good to see you."

 

"Nis! I've been putting your man through his paces. You've been underselling him all this time, dear."

 

"I was wondering when you'd finally decide to brag about that. It isn't like you to shut up about anything."

 

"I can be quiet when I want to. I was just avoiding rubbing it in Quinn's face."

 

"You kept it quiet for your captain's sake? That's precious." Niselle's slight smile widened. "But then, I heard he's away now, playing the elite soldier again. With no Wrath in sight."

 

"You heard and you didn't swoop in to take him? Are you feeling well? I think he's the only boyfriend I've ever had that you haven't made a move on yet."

 

"Ugh. There's a reason for that. In Quinn you have found a man so repulsive I wouldn't take him even to spite you."

 

"That's stupid even for you. He's brilliant, Nis."

 

"Not so brilliant you felt the need to keep him."

 

"Well, he's also really annoying." Nalenne crossed her arms and scowled. "I just expected that with that Togruta you carry around you would be used to 'annoying.' You know, I haven't taken one of yours in years. I thought you would be at least a little upset about it."

 

"Darling, if you've had Nicky for this long and only just now got around to screwing him, I don't know what to tell you, but 'boo hoo' doesn't enter into it."

 

"You are no fun."

 

"But I am," volunteered Andronikos.

 

Nalenne looked up at him. "Help me out here. I didn't prepare any backup annoying-Nis material."

 

"I could start comparing bedroom reviews," suggested Andronikos. "As it happens, Nalenne, you turn out very favorably there."

 

"I don't want to hear," snapped Niselle.

 

"Ooh, that's perfect, then," said Nalenne. "We can do that!"

 

Andronikos grinned at the holo. "Somewhere your sister picked up this concept of 'giving' that you never quite managed to – "

 

Just then the holo cut out.

 

"Ugh," said Nalenne. "I should have a word – a very short word – with the guy we hired to fix that."

 

Vette stomped in from the other room. "Gee," she said, "whaddya know, technical difficulties. I can take out the pirate's voicebox, too, if I have to."

 

"Oh," said Nalenne. "You are no fun."

 

"But I am," said Andronikos. "Come on, let's go do something even Nis'll get upset about."

 

Broonmark paused on his way to the mess. "Killing?" he blorped.

 

"She doesn't get upset about that," Andronikos said dismissively.

 

"But killing later," said Nalenne as she walked past. "Promise."

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CHRONICLES PRESENT, 36: In which Insanity Company gets worrisome news

 

Time period: After Quinn leaves

 

 

The frigate Method served as Insanity Company's home. They had taken up residence less than six hours when Moff Rillins called on a priority channel.

 

Quinn stood at the ready. Moff Rillins spoke quickly. "General, there's an incursion in progress in a temple complex on Rathlor III. I'm six kinds of not qualified to know what goes on in there, but orders direct from the Dark Council say that that place needs to be defended at all costs. A Jedi strike team was halfway through their defenses at last update. We need Insanity Company in there and we need them stopped."

 

"Understood." Quinn made a quick hand signal to Pandorr and Rutau, who nodded acknowledgment and headed to the bridge.

 

"One more thing," warned Rillins. "The Jedi is working with a pureblood Sith."

 

Quinn, rather than having a properly aghast reaction, looked annoyed. "Did they have a smug-looking man with poorly thought-out facial hair with them?"

 

Rillins blinked. "I…don't know."

 

Quinn shook his head. "Hm. I'll be there shortly, Moff. The Jedi will be stopped."

 

*

 

Captain Rutau piloted the shuttle with more enthusiasm than finesse as they roared through the atmosphere of Rathlor III. They ignored ground control's comm channel in favor of the temple defenders', opting to land directly in the courtyard rather than bother with landing pads, clearances, or other delay-making subtleties.

 

The local trooper commander met them on the stairs. "General. Their strike team split. Most of them are trapped at the far end of the complex. One Jedi remains on the loose; she's ripping through everyone we send."

 

"Point me," Quinn said shortly, and set off in the direction the commander indicated, the four other officers of Insanity Company following in his wake.

 

The hallways were empty until they rounded a corner and found six guards, two of whom appeared to be Sith, lying around in varying states of whimpering-in-pain. One of the Sith had the presence of mind to stand up and pretend he hadn't just gotten beaten into submission. Instead he stood up straight and pointed to a door. "She's in there," said the battered Sith. "Well? Go! Kill her!"

 

The room the Sith had indicated was large, with a dais and stone table in the middle. And a Jedi by the table. Rutau and Ritter burst in firing, fanning out to permit Quinn, Hareth, and finally Pandorr to enter. The Jedi moved in a double-bladed blur of green lightsaber, deflecting blaster bolts until an earsplitting shriek stopped all fire.

 

Everyone stopped and looked at Lieutenant Hareth, who was suddenly clutching her blaster to her chest and hyperventilating.

 

Quinn looked suspicious. "What."

 

"It's a Jedi, sir! They're dangerous!"

 

"Yes, well, that's why we're going to kill her," Rutau explained helpfully.

 

"We'll get hurt," squeaked the Force-blind Sith.

 

"Lieutenant," Quinn said, deadly calm. "I thought you were eager to die for the Emperor."

 

"Of course, yes. In theory. But I'd rather my glorious death for the Emperor be fast and painless, sir." She cast a terrified look at the Jedi. "Please."

 

"Honestly…" Quinn set his jaw and raised his blaster, his eyes sparking. It was Captain Rutau who pushed his arm back down again.

 

"Sir," Rutau warned.

 

"Captain, when I was on Balmorra execution was the standard punishment for rank cowardice."

 

"Yes, sir. And we lost Balmorra when we ran out of ablebodied officers."

 

The Jedi snickered.

 

Quinn glared at her. "Don't you start, Kira Carsen."

 

"Master Kira Carsen," she said, her eyes dancing. "I would say it's nice to see you, Mister Wrath, but really, who would I be kidding?"

 

While Quinn was thus distracted, Lieutenant Hareth slunk off to one side so as to be well out of his line of fire.

 

"Speaking of," said Kira, looking curiously at the door, "you didn't bring the Wrath with you, did you?"

 

"No," Quinn snapped impatiently.

 

"Oh. Whew!" Kira relaxed. "Uh, how about Jaesa? I haven't talked to her in forever. Something about how the Wrath threatened to serve her brains as stew at her next dinner party if she caught her talking to me again."

 

"I didn't come here to gossip, Jedi."

 

"Okay, jeez. Just trying to make conversation." She turned her defensive stance slightly when she saw Lieutenant Ritter creeping around the edge of the room in search of a better shot.

 

"If you want conversation, you can tell me why you are here."

 

"Me?" She grinned and swiped some small object from the surface of the stone table she stood by. "I'm preparing. By the time this is over, you'll be glad you were too dead to kill us back in the day, because Mister Wrath, even you need Rho to succeed in this one." She tapped some device at her ear and suddenly made a straight leap meters in the air to catch the edge of a skylight there. Quinn and the others – including a quaking Lieutenant Hareth – opened fire, but in a final theatrical flourish of lightsaber and the scream of a shuttle descending to meet her, Kira was gone.

 

Quinn glared after her with an intensity that might have caused hull damage to the shuttle if the shuttle had stuck around. It was Captain Rutau who finally cleared his throat and said "Sir. The rest of the strike team?"

 

"The rest of the strike team was piloting that shuttle, Rutau. Given the sorry ground-to-air capabilities on this planet, they're long gone."

 

"You know these people?"

 

"They belong to the Hero of Tython." Quinn holstered his blaster and set himself at parade rest, still looking up. "And I have a great deal more planning to do than I'd thought."

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Chronicles Present, 37: In which Quinn misses something

 

Time period: After Quinn leaves

 

 

Quinn catalogued the contents of the freezer. He catalogued them again. Then he frowned and turned to the other officers. "We don't have any ice cream, do we."

 

Ritter and Rutau exchanged looks. "Why would we?" asked Rutau.

 

"Spend a tour on Hoth and then tell me how much you ever want to see ice cream again," grumbled Ritter.

 

"My boyfriend used to take me out for ice cream. Before the Hero of Tython KILLED HIM." Hareth stabbed her ration bar with a vibroknife, hard. "To die for the glory of the Emperor with a stomach full of ice cream was truly the greatest fate he could have asked for," she mumbled. "Even if it was probably painful."

 

"It's just the stuff for mass poisoning civilians," Pandorr said cheerfully. "Nobody can resist ice cream."

 

"It is often preferable to just eat it," Quinn said. "Without poisoning it first." He shook his head. "I'll have to requisition some. It's just that I haven't had to acquire my own since…well, since before my previous assignment. It seems like it's always just been there." He cleared his throat. "Never mind. We have two more planets to turn Imperial before the week is out. The ice cream can wait."

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Chronicles Present, 38: In which Nalenne meets a once and future ensign

 

Time period: After Quinn leaves

 

 

"Milord," said Pierce. "Best action you can imagine on Quesh. Army of mutant lobels or something, utterly ravaging all signs of civilization."

 

"On Quesh? That won't take them long."

 

"I know. Still, should be a great fight. Can we go? Might even get paid for it."

 

Andronikos looked over. "I still have no idea why the Empire pays you over and above your salary for this, Wrath, but I love it."

 

They left Jaesa on the ship when they took the shuttle to Quesh's noxious surface. They submitted to the shots that would protect them from poisonous gas, ignoring Broonmark's mumbled complaints about how utterly nonsensical it is to claim that a 'inoculation' can be formed against gas, and set out down the road to find trouble.

 

Trouble proved to be deeper in the countryside than expected. The party went on slogging through swamps and tangled vegetation maps in varying shades of orange and brown.

 

Andronikos looked around thoughtfully. "Think I've bought and sold some noxious byproduct of every disgusting life form we've stepped in, on, or around today."

 

"Tend to only deal with the end results myself," said Pierce. "They smell better."

 

"Here the clan can find a bounty of useful compounds," burbled Broonmark, "and furthermore a lush hunting ground for Hutts and other stupid things. Quesh is a great planet."

 

"Quesh is gross," said Vette.

 

They crested a hill and finally found a pack of lobels that were, as promised, enormous slavering mutants possessed of hideously unnatural aggression. It was a good fight: mess, screaming, ultrapowerful opponents, plenty of things to whack with lightsabers. Nalenne made a mental note to come back here the next time she was bored.

 

She turned from a collapsing lobel to see the last remaining beast's chest explode in a fine mist.

 

"Hey," Pierce yelled indignantly, looking around. "Explosive round, milord, and not from us."

 

Nalenne kept her saber ready. Anything packing heat like that could be amusing to kill. "Show yourself," she said, "unless you'd rather I just burn down the neighborhood looking for you."

 

"Don't bother," called a high boyish voice. And out of the underbrush nearby marched a skinny red-haired teenager with a sniper rifle nearly his own size slung on his back banging against the backs of his legs as he walked.

 

The stranger marched past Nalenne and her crew, produced a vibroknife nearly the length of his own arm, cut off one of the mutant lobel's ears, and tied it to his belt. Then he turned to face the party.

 

"Is runt clan lost?" buzzed Broonmark.

 

Nalenne raised a hand. "Hold. Who are you and why are you interrupting a fight fifty times your size?"

 

He bowed. "Durmat Rylon, my lord," he said in his crackling voice.

 

"Rylon?" Nalenne looked him over. He was done out in camouflage-smeared fatigues, a beat-up variant of a trooper's field uniform. He had a slightly manic glint in his eye. "Durmat Rylon? Didn't I chemwipe your whole brain back on Balmorra?"

 

"Quite possibly, my lord. There's a blank spot on my permanent record there, and stars know I don't remember a thing from the event or before it; nobody's quite sure what happened."

 

"Far be it from me to ruin the mystery," said Nalenne. "Forget I said anything."

 

"Huh," said Pierce. "Heard of your actions in the service. Thought you'd be back with the unit by now."

 

Ensign Rylon turned to Pierce and saluted crisply. "Lieutenant, sir. I haven't been attached to a unit since Insanity Company was disbanded."

 

"That's what I mean. It's back in action. Didn't you get the holo?"

 

"Haven't had a holo, sir. I've been out in the wilds getting ready. Proving myself." He lifted his weak little chin further. "I won't fail the Empire again."

 

"That's kind of adorable," said Vette.

 

"You were a flailing incarnation of failure too nervous to mop up his own drool last time we met," said Nalenne, incredulous. "When did you grow a spine?"

 

"Also not clear, my lord. I only know that I'm ready to get it right this time."

 

"Oh, Quinn's going to love you."

 

*

 

"And that's how operations are going to work on the Method. Dismissed, Ensign."

 

Quinn turned away from the new recruit and took a few steps toward the viewport on the bridge. As the other officers filed out, Lieutenant Hareth came to stand beside him.

 

"General," she said quietly. "Is something troubling you?"

 

"No," he said briskly, "I was simply caught off guard by the ensign's arrival. I expect your discretion when I tell you that I ordered that boy killed once." Quinn twisted to look in the direction Durmat had departed in. "It seems to have improved him immensely."

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CHRONICLES PRESENT, 39: In which Quinn finds a direction

 

I want to give more individual Nalenne-crew love, but my brain's blocking me. So instead, preparation for plot!

 

 

Time period: After Quinn leaves

 

 

"There's a pattern," murmured Quinn.

 

"Sir?" said Ensign Rylon.

 

"The Jedi's strikes have a pattern. His activity is stepping up, and he is making rapid surgical strikes on Sith enclaves throughout the galaxy." Quinn raised a hand to point out nothings in the air. "He is tracing Sith settlements and temples based roughly on the temporal order of their development. Racing through history, searching for something." He frowned. "Alternately he is making an exhaustive tour of the Zagrat guide for fine dining working from the highest-rated establishments, but that doesn't seem like his style. I think I know which planet he will strike next. Or rather, I have two candidates. We'll pursue the Sith-related one first."

 

Rylon looked at Quinn's hand. "And your data for this is…?"

 

"Memorized," Quinn said shortly. "Once I had the restaurant hypothesis in place it was a simple matter of research. Likewise for Sith history."

 

"I can learn that," said Rylon.

 

"Perhaps you can. But I expect you to maintain your performance in the field," said Quinn.

 

"Oh, yes, sir. I'm sure I can do both. I'll just take time out from sleeping."

 

A smiling Captain Rutau looked up from cleaning his blaster rifle. "That's the spirit, scout."

 

"What are we going to do when we find him?" asked Pandorr. "I'm all for sticking it to the Jedi, but I going in with blasters seems a bit more dumbsurd than even we can pull off."

 

"He has weaknesses," said Quinn. "Extraordinarily distractible allies. Honesty. An unwillingness to harm those whom he perceives as helpless."

 

"He really was reluctant to send the servants of the Emperor to glory through destruction," pouted Hareth. "And he talked too much."

 

"Furthermore," said Quinn, "he suffers from the belief that anyone, no matter how stubborn, can be reasoned with." He smiled an unpleasant smile. "And the belief that anyone, no matter how far gone, can be saved."

 

"We need saving?" Rutau said curiously.

 

"So the doctrine goes," said Quinn. "He isn't fond of the Empire."

 

Pandorr looked personally offended. "But the Empire's the best thing ever! Way more fun than the Republic would ever let us have."

 

Rylon looked up from the effigy of the Republic's Supreme Chancellor that he was picking apart with a vibroknife. "Hear, hear."

 

"Anyway," said Quinn, "I have submitted my analysis of his movements to High Command. I expect them to coordinate with Intelligence to project what his end goal may be."

 

Lieutenant Ritter frowned. "Our job's killing him. They can sort out goals later."

 

Pandorr smiled. "I'll drink to that."

 

"Not on the job, you won't," Quinn said sternly. "We'll figure out what he wants. Only then can we properly enjoy taking it away from him."

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CHRONICLES PRESENT, 40: In which Jaesa develops as a person

 

Time period: After Quinn leaves

 

 

"For the last time," snapped Nalenne, "gimme."

 

Andronikos folded his arms tighter around the flimsiplast sheaf in his hand. "For the last time, not likely."

 

"You would never have found Insatiable Nexu #17 if I hadn't killed the collector who was sitting on them!"

 

"Much appreciated, sweetheart, but I got my hands on it first."

 

"You don't even like comic books! They're 'for nerds'!"

 

"The Nexu's special. Especially the Insatiable run."

 

"I'm ordering you to hand that over."

 

"If I ever took your orders I might care." He scowled. "I'm feeling the need to go someplace. Nexu's coming with me." He headed to the bridge, still clutching the comic issue.

 

"Rrrrg," said Nalenne, and stomped to the mess for a drink. Vette and Jaesa trailed behind.

 

"That man drives me insane," grumbled Nalenne. "He never does anything I want."

 

"We have all heard vocal…things…that directly contradict that, my lord," said Vette, wrinkling her nose.

 

"Whatever. Apart from that. He's horrible."

 

"He is a cruel unreliable compulsive liar with a history of terrible judgment, seeing as he married Niselle, and a total disregard for anybody else's feelings, seeing as he went on to seduce you," said Jaesa.

 

Vette and Nalenne both goggled. "Wow," said Vette. "Jaesa, that's the meanest thing you've ever said. Ever."

 

"I know." Jaesa's usually puppyish eyes were as hard as she could manage to make them, which meant they were only semi-gooey. "Master, I didn't push too hard against Servant Nine because you had nobody else, not in the ways you wanted, but you had it right with Quinn. Even the 'vocal things' were louder."

 

"Not that it's any of your business, Jaesa, but of course things were different with Quinn. No one else could ever be like him, but he's also unspeakably annoying the other 95% of the time. And pushy, and controlling, and a walking cautionary tale in workaholism. There's a cost-benefit analysis to be made–"

 

Vette choked on her drink. "What?" she gasped.

 

"Cost-benefit analysis. Where I say 'Getting laid is great, but it doesn't make up for getting yelled at every time I try to have some fun without being Imperial enough about it'?"

 

"That thinking came straight out of Quinn's book," Jaesa said, a little smugly.

 

"Hey. I'm allowed to use certain analytical tools…"

 

"'There are two kinds of tools: the ones for instant gratification and the ones not worth using,'" said Jaesa. "Direct quote. From you. It seems you changed your mind."

 

"It's gratifying to know I'm right and he's wrong," Nalenne said defensively. "That was instant. It counts."

 

"He did more for you than you'll admit," said Jaesa. "He even kept the thermal detonators organized and out of the way, which Lieutenant Pierce still isn't doing. I'm trying to keep it in line, but it's hard at the rate Andronikos and Pierce buy them."

 

"Even I can admit he sat down and shut up when you told him to," Vette said thoughtfully. "Andronikos has a way of, well, not. It's funny to watch but I've noticed it kind of makes you miserable."

 

"This whole line of verbal assault is an overreaction for the theft of one lousy comic book," Nalenne grumbled.

 

"'There's no such thing as an overreaction to the Scarlet Nexu,'" recited Jaesa. "Also a direct quote."

 

"Would you stop that?"

 

"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't miss him," said Jaesa. "Then I'll stop it."

 

"No you won't," said Vette. "You'll just try to talk her into missing him."

 

"She's right. Jaesa, you just lied," Nalenne said. "First you say something negative about someone, then you actually lie to manipulate me into doing something." She broke into a broad smile. "You're finally learning."

 

Jaesa's jaw dropped. "That…that wasn't my point."

 

"Teachable moment, hon. I'll take full advantage. Hell, just for that breakthrough we can watch the animated Mynock Adventures in my room tonight if you like. Which is something that Quinn wouldn't have allowed, in case you had forgotten."

 

"Count me in, too," said Vette. "Nerd shows or not, I'm dying to see how far you're gonna corrupt Jaesa now that you've started."

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CHRONICLES PRESENT, 41: In which the party gets started in earnest

 

Time period: After Quinn leaves

 

 

In the ancient temple courtyard amidst the blood-red sunset mists, Quinn was waiting.

 

The Mirialan Jedi Knight emerged from the great tunnel that pierced the outer wall. He had his expected cronies in tow: the looming Sith known as Lord Scourge, the slim Jedi Kira, the armored Chagrian Rusk, the little astromech T7-01 – struggling noticeably with the mossy uneven stonework – and the smarmy dead weight known only as Doc.

 

Rho stopped his friends with a gesture when he saw Quinn.

 

"The Hero of Tython," Quinn said coolly. He arched an eyebrow at Rho's companions. "And his little Doc, too."

 

"General," said the Jedi, eyeing Quinn's rank insignia. "It's been a long time."

 

"Yes, I had hoped you had developed the sense to stay out of the Empire's way after our last encounter."

 

"I must go where I'm needed," Rho said piously.

 

Doc was looking around suspiciously. "You didn't bring the Wrath with you, did you?"

 

Quinn scowled. "I do have a solo career, you know."

 

"Oh." Doc relaxed. "That's a shame, because she was a lot more pleasant to look at."

 

"I must ask you to stand aside," said Rho. "We have to stop the ritual that's happening in that building."

 

"What you think you have to do is of no concern to me. My concern is what you're not going to do, and here and now that is dictated by me."

 

"I don't want to hurt you," said Rho.

 

"Jedi, you couldn't manage to stop me when I was dead. You certainly can't stop me now."

 

"You have backup, then? I'll be honest, I expected to see you with the Wrath."

 

"My assignment took me elsewhere."

 

Weapons-grade compassion started oozing out of Rho's manner. "General, what happened to her? I sense the pain in you."

 

"Jedi," Quinn said coldly. "The last time you pressed me on the subject of the Wrath, I arranged an inescapable trap on six hours' notice and would gladly have killed you on the spot were it not for the fact that I had something infinitely more important on my mind." He took a step closer. "That moderating influence is no longer in my life. So take care not to irritate me."

 

Rho raised his hands defensively. "I'm just saying. Some people behave less like murderous psychopaths when they talk about what's bothering them."

 

"I'm not some people." Quinn returned to parade rest. "Return to Republic space. Get a job. Meet some nice Jedi girl who will give you fat Jedi children." Kira abruptly appeared to choke on something, but Rho didn't seem to notice. "Do anything at all, but don't do it where I might find you again."

 

"The Emperor's going to destroy the galaxy, you know. You should join us instead of opposing us. Your cunning would be a great asset in our fight to preserve life."

 

"Have you lost your mind?" said Quinn. "Associating with the incompetent half-Jedi that was Jaesa Wilsaam was pain enough for one lifetime. Two lifetimes, actually. Or rather one and a fraction. In any case, if you think I'm going to voluntarily ally myself with a Jedi again, you're even madder than the rest of your kind."

 

"So you would rather die with everyone than join your strength to our cause?"

 

"I don't fear death these days." Quinn flashed a white smile. "I should think you would have noticed that by now."

 

"That's great and all," said Doc, "but let's face it, Rho's gonna win this one. So before all that goes down – and me right now here isn't death, don't get mad – I still do owe you something from our Ord Mantell encounter." He swaggered up close, chest out, body language belligerent in every way. "This is for Balmorra."

 

Quinn did a conspicuously bad job of suppressing a smile. When Doc threw a punch, Quinn neatly sidestepped it, caught Doc's arm, turned him off balance and pulled him into a headlock, his arm hard against Doc's throat.

 

"Were you expecting that to go better the second time?" Quinn asked mockingly.

 

"Huh," Doc said nervously. "Actually, yeah. I kind of was."

 

Rho's Force wave separated the two, sending both sprawling. "I can't let you stop me," said the Jedi, starting quickly up the stairs to the Temple.

 

Quinn didn't bother standing up. "I'm not giving you a choice." He tapped his comm earpiece once, then slammed the activation on a personal shield generator.

 

The walls on all sides of the courtyard blew.

 

Quinn was moving even before the secondary collapse started rolling enormous chunks of masonry down over the site of the confrontation. A speeder prepared in a sheltered corner nearby brought him rapidly around to the shuttle pad where the rest of his team waited. As they took flight, a small wing of Imperial bombers appeared through the red-soaked mists to finish the job.

 

"We heard the whole thing," Rylon said excitedly. "That was great!"

 

"You all did well setting the charges as rapidly as you did. The interior?"

 

"We made sure the inner sanctum wouldn't take any damage," said Ritter.

 

"Excellent. This is exactly the kind of professional efficiency I had long ago despaired of finding."

 

"Give us a job, we do it," growled Ritter. "Simple as that."

 

"I wonder what 'ritual' the Jedi was talking about?" said Pandorr.

 

Quinn wondered, too. "I don't know. If the Wrath were here she could invite herself in and ask, but she isn't. We are here to take orders, not understand them." He had really disliked that aspect of traditional military life, but that was how it went.

 

"There is nothing to understand," recited Hareth. "Only to serve and – "

 

"And die, yes, we know," sighed Quinn.

 

"Furthermore, what'd he mean by 'The Emperor's going to destroy the galaxy'?" mused Rutau.

 

"He's making it up," said Quinn.

 

"The Hero of Tython is too honest for that," said Hareth. "Perhaps he realizes that our glorious master will consume the galaxy in flame after all."

 

"Or, more likely, the Jedi is mistaken," Quinn said impatiently. "The matter is closed."

 

"At least we got to blow him up," said Rylon.

 

Pandar giggled. "We got 'im good."

 

"Serves them right for taunting us about Balmorra," said Rutau. "The Empire doesn't give up that easily."

 

"No," agreed Quinn, and allowed himself a small smile. "We don't."

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