Malavai Quinn sighed quietly as he sat at the lovely Willsaam family table. Jaesa was meeting with her parents, being on the same planet and all, and Methic had asked–rather, told–Quinn to go with her as a chauffeur.
Quinn might’ve refused, but Methic still held the whole I-spared-your-life-when-you-stabbed-me-in-the-back thing over his head.
So now Quinn sat in a white dress uniform, his captain badge prominently displayed, at a Republic table. Thoroughly dismaying, he decided. If not for the fact that Methic might’ve had him executed, he might have just left.
And then there was Jaesa. The disgustingly sweet, naïve little girl insisted on spending all her time when not at her parents’ manor in the mountains, and she did nothing but sit looking over the pastures and valleys, her eyes closed.
While Quinn watched.
It almost made him wonder what would’ve become of her if Methic had tried to turn her to the dark side of the Force, rather than allowing her to hold to her idealistic Jedi standards. No matter.
In any case, there was nothing to be done. Quinn picked up his glass of tea, prepared by Madame Willsaam, and tried to ignore the two Republic soldiers guarding the entryway.
“So, Jaesa,” said the father. “You did not tell us you were bringing a guest.”
“Oh,” Jaesa said with a smile. “My, ah, employer insists.”
“Don’t be so modest, Jaesa dear,” said the mother. “Why didn’t you tell us there was a man in your life?”
Unfortunately, Quinn was in the middle of a swallow of tea when those words left her mouth. As such, he of course tried to protest, and found himself on the floor, choking on tea.
Jaesa rolled her eyes, and then used the Force to dislodge the liquid from his throat. Nodding his thanks, Quinn took his seat and tried to hide a blush.
“Mother,” Jaesa said. “He is not a part of my life any more than the refresher is!”
“What a flattering comparison,” muttered Quinn.
Suddenly, his comlink beeped and he thanked all his lucky stars. He looked down at the comlink and saw the number displayed. He touched Jaesa’s wrist.
“It’s our, ah…employer. We must go.”
Jaesa nodded. “I apologize for this, mother. Father. Perhaps another day.”
They stepped outside, and Jaesa shot Quinn a sharp look.
“And what would be so bad about being married to me?” Jaesa asked indignantly.
Quinn flushed. “Now’s not exactly the time.” He answered the comlink. “My Lord?”
“Quinn,” Methic said. “What took so blasted long?”
“I had to interrupt dinner with Jaesa’s family,” Quinn said. “I apologize.”
“We’re on our way to Alderaan. You will be at the spaceport when we arrive, or chauffeuring Jaesa will seem like the Empire’s most cushy assignment!”
Quinn gulped. “Yes, my Lord.”
Quinn rented a pair of speeders and raced to House Thul’s spaceport with Jaesa in hot pursuit. When they reached the spaceport Malavai ran inside, hoping the Fury hadn’t landed yet.
Methic exited at the exact time Quinn entered. The Sith Lord nodded.
“Good, right on time. Get on the ship. Now.”
Pierce was lying in the medical bay, bandages around his chest and forehead. He had two black eyes, and streaks of blood staining his face. He was out cold.
“What in death’s name happened?” Quinn cried.
“I don’t know,” Methic replied. “Pierce was out cold when we found him. He hasn’t awakened. Work on him, Quinn. Now.”
Quinn nodded. Jaesa and Vette left the room, and Quinn settled down beside Pierce, pulling out his medical kit.
“Has it occurred to you, my Lord, that Pierce and I are rivals and that I could simply treat him in an improper manner, and get rid of an annoyance?”
“It has,” Methic replied. “And if you do, I will allow Pierce to raise his blaster one last time and shoot you before he dies. Fair is fair.”
Quinn swallowed. “Yes, my Lord. Just making sure weeks away from the field had not affected your keenness.”
Methic had an annoyed look on his face as he walked away. Quinn got to work on Pierce.