Methic and the rest of the strike team returned the next day, many of them wounded and torn to tatters. Methic’s armor was shredded, his black cape torn and only reaching his waist where it had once been to his ankles. His armor was scratched and dinged, and his helmet had been destroyed, forcing him to cast it off.
In addition, his lightsabers had been his with a kind of interference wave during the battle, damaging the blue crystal in his offhand weapon. Thankfully, his primary saber had been undamaged, but he had been forced to fight that…Terror…with only a single weapon.
He looked at his gear in disgust. The credits he would have to spend to repair this damage…he hoped the Gree suffered from their defeat for a long time to come.
“How you feel, boss?” Pierce asked.
“Would be better if I didn’t feel vulnerable,” he replied.
He stripped off his armor and put on a simple black cloak, tying it at the waist with a red sash. He clipped his sabers into the sash and threw the dented armor into the pile with the rest of the gear that was to be sent to an armory, including the armor Pierce had been wearing the day he’d been assaulted by the Mandalorians.
“Been months since that happened,” Pierce said in a little disbelief. “I’m recovered. It all seems so long ago, and yet at the same time, so…recent.”
Methic nodded. “Sometimes it seems just a few weeks ago I was an acolyte on Korriban waiting on Overseer Tremel.”
Pierce inclined his head. “The war is passing us up, boss.”
Methic nodded. “It won’t,” he said. “One day, it will end.”
“Then we’ll throw a party?” Pierce asked with a smile.
“One that will spread over all Dromund Kaas,” Methic said.
Quinn took off his armor and put on a set of civilian clothes. He was ready to depart Tython. He had some footage of the Jedi Master Gareb, hopefully enough for Lord Methic.
Once, he might’ve sabotaged the armor so that the next user would be injured, or even killed. The old Quinn sometimes scared the new Quinn.
“Where to, buddy?” asked the pilot.
“Neutral space,” Quinn said. “Nar Shaddaa.”
* * *
Methic and Vette stood at the Upper Promenade, waiting for Quinn’s speeder came in for a landing. As the man, dressed in a trenchcoat and technician’s visor, approached, Vette turned away to give them some space.
“I have all the recordings of the Jedi Master here, Lord Methic,” Quinn said, handing over what looked like a spotlamp.
“Good job, Quinn.” Methic patted his arm. “Let’s go.”
He led Quinn to the Lower Promenade cantina, where Pierce, Broonmark, and Jaesa were waiting. While they had been waiting for Quinn they had gotten a message from Nomen Karr. No one had opened it yet; they were waiting for Quinn.
Suddenly a Jedi appeared from nowhere–a Shadow!–and grabbed Quinn. Then he used the Force to cloak himself and Quinn, and they were gone.
“I think we better find out what Karr wants,” said Methic, grimly.