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There is no death, there is only Wrath


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75. In which Nalenne gets a hand from Cipher Nine (I/III)

 

When trouble mounts higher and higher,

The whole situation gets dire.

The worst off are they

Who willingly sway

From frying pan into the fire.

 

 

When a call came in on the main holo, Nalenne was feeling too lazy to make herself presentable. She answered in her dressing gown.

 

The agent called Dahlia showed up. (*) And looked Nalenne over, and pursed her lips in a silent whistle.

 

“None of that,” said Nalenne. “What’s up?”

 

“Excellent news, Wrath. I can get you to Voss and I can even get you a local guide. It’s just going to take a few details.”

 

*

 

Dahlia met with Nalenne on the Helicarrier. “All right,” said the black-haired agent, “you’ll need to take three of these shots at 48-hour intervals to suppress certain compounds in your human scent to avoid raising suspicion with their more sensitive citizens. Then we just need these prosthetics layered on with makeup to get the Voss look – I assume you don’t want the permanent surgery – and some custom shoes/stilts so you can pass for a Voss, on the short side, but still Voss.” Dahlia considered. “The contact lenses will be painful, but we can make it work. Can you memorize forty traditional codeword greetings by tomorrow? Also, ugh, the captain can’t shave his head, can he.”

 

Nalenne blinked at her. “I don’t even know where to start with how wrong this is.”

 

Dahlia snickered. “Good thing I’m putting you on, then. You should’ve seen the look on your face.”

 

“I would Sith out on you, but I still need your help.”

 

“That’s the beautiful part. Come on, the approach should be straightforward if we take my ship. I’ll get you set up, I can give you a day on planet, then we’re out of there, no ion cannons involved.” She cocked her head. “Maybe I could knock some of ‘em out to pass the time…”

 

“Be sure to give them my regards first,” said Nalenne, thinking of the damage to the Helicarrier from their previous Voss expedition. (*) “How soon can we go?”

 

“Right now works. Come aboard my ship, I’ll drop you off as close to the Shrine as we’re allowed to land.”

 

*

 

‘Close’ was a ridge within sight of the great squared-off shrine complex. Dahlia and Kaliyo prepped some insane quantity of explosives and headed off away from the shrine, giggling like schoolgirls. Nalenne and Quinn headed a little ways away and surveyed the rocky path to the shrine proper.

 

"Beautiful as I remember," said Nalenne. The sunlight seemed to suffuse everything in sight, its warm light coming from everywhere at once.

 

"I never liked it," said Quinn.

 

"You never liked anything that wasn't a warship's command deck."

 

"Voss specifically was a very stressful place from my perspective."

 

"Why did you even ask me to marry you, anyway? Seems like a lot of paperwork for a woman you were about to try to kill.”

 

"I always have a plan, my lord. But many plans never have to be executed. Perhaps events would take their course such that you would have to die. But perhaps not; and if there was to be a tomorrow, I wanted to share it with you."

 

"Careful what you wish for."

 

"...yes, I do believe that has been the lesson of the year."

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76. In which Nalenne and Quinn consult with the Voss (II/III)

 

The Voss have a singular rule:

First the Mystic, the Force power’s tool,

Then interpreters wise

To suggest compromise

‘twixt commands that would stump sage and fool.

 

 

Nalenne and ghost-Quinn knelt on multicolored rugs, facing a trio of Voss: their appointed guide, flanked by a slim woman and a large, muscular (by Voss standards) man.

 

"In conclusion," Nalenne was saying, "I need to move this guy on out of his ghostly existence. And supposedly some vows of ours, likely the wedding vows spoken at one of your stone monuments here, is holding that back."

 

The three Voss watched, unblinking, for a long time.

 

"Any help here?" said Nalenne.

 

The guide spoke. "The two souls are bound as one. One cannot live if the other dies. One cannot die while the other lives."

 

"Stop. There. Unacceptable," said Nalenne. "Was this in the venue booking brochure?"

 

"This is the marriage bond," said the Voss flatly. "No matter the location."

 

"You people die all the time. How come I don't see ghost-Voss following their spouses around?"

 

"Blind strength of will," said the slim woman.

 

"Blind strength of purpose," said the muscular man.

 

"Blind Mystics’ strength," said their guide. "Voss understand their purpose. Our Mystics do not take these vows at the stone, for they know the power of their own words. You brought your chains, Sith, and you, human. Forged in ways that are not Voss, but bound in ways that are Voss."

 

"We're coming to an unbinding idea here. Right?"

 

Their guide stared at her, unblinking. "Die. Then you are free."

 

"Weeeee're coming to an alternate unbinding idea here. Right?"

 

"Live," said the woman. "Then you are free."

 

Nalenne expelled a short sharp breath. "How do I say this...."

 

"My lord, if the location truly had some reaction with our vows, that location would be the best place to start looking for a way to break it apart."

 

"There is nothing to break," said their guide. "You are one."

 

"Are you listening? We are obviously not one. I'm Sith. He's human. I'm female. He's male. I'm alive. He's dead. I'm pretty. He's...hm. Well."

 

"Broken," said their guide.

 

"Incomplete," said the big Voss.

 

"One and wounded," said the woman.

 

"Bound and blind," said the guide.

 

"You're wrong. Would there be any not-death solutions for your interpretation, which I am not conceding is true in any way?"

 

"Is there a way he might live?" the big Voss asked his fellows.

 

"This is beyond our power," said the woman.

 

"Is there anything you can do?" snapped Nalenne.

 

"Release you both in death," said their guide. "If that is your wish."

 

“You guys really do only come in ‘creepy’ and ‘creepier’ modes, don’t you? Quinn, have you had enough running in circles?”

 

"More than enough, my lord."

 

“Well, then. Tell you all what. You call me when you’ve figured out severing this or re-embodying somebody. And I’ll go not die, because that solution sucks.”

 

Nalenne rose, dusted off her knees, and stalked out of the pavilion.

 

Quinn kept pace with her. "Pretty vs. ‘hm, well’? You never complained about my appearance before," he muttered.

 

"Rhetorical license," she said. Then she looked over at him. "All the same, some days I think I would be happy if I never saw you again. No offense."

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77. In which Nalenne and Quinn look at a rock (III/III)

 

A difficult fact, but it’s so:

Some rituals bind, root, and grow.

The promises spoken,

Respected or broken,

May govern far more than you know.

 

 

A broad valley done out in the same russet and gold as the rest of Voss. In a small copse to one side, a grey standing stone, maybe two and a half meters high, was surrounded by an ancient circle of smaller stones.

 

“Doesn’t look like much,” said Nalenne.

 

“Yet we were sent here. At the time I was surprised the Voss would not permit an indoor ceremony,” said ghost-Quinn. “In retrospect we should have insisted.”

 

“Eh, we might still have been ‘heard’ there.” (*)

 

“Quite probably, but indoors wouldn’t have triggered my allergies so badly.”

 

Nalenne shook her head and walked up to the spot where they had spoken their vows. “I quit,” she explained.

 

“I doubt that will have an effect, my lord.”

 

“I’m done. I’m officially undoing this marriage, so you can stop enforcing it.” The stone failed to respond. “Blast. Do we have ritual divorce words?”

 

“No,” said Quinn.

 

She turned back to the stone. “Look, I’m really impressed with the stability of what you did here, but I want my life back. Or his. Or something. So if you could just leave us alone, that’d be great.”

 

“My lord, you’re talking to a large rock.”

 

“And this is less silly than having you around?”

 

“I’m not silly,” he said stiffly.

 

She knocked on the monolith. “Let me go, please?”

 

He walked up beside her and laid one immaterial hand on the stone. “Let the bond be undone,” he said quietly.

 

“Who’s talking to rocks now?”

 

“Let it end.”

 

“Wow. Morbid overtones much?”

 

“We’re well past morbid by now, Nalenne.” He frowned at the stone. “If there is anything to listen this time, end it.”

 

“Rapidly falling into disturbing territory,” she said.

 

“You do recall that the entire point here is to kill me?” he said impatiently.

 

“Okay, good point.”

 

Quinn shook his head. “This system would never stand in the Empire. I can’t wait for us to annex this forsaken planet, or at least bomb it into glass.” He looked back to the stone. “If it can bind, why can’t it reverse? I could lay out a better design after six shots of death juice and a hard blow to the head.”

 

“I don’t think it’s listening.”

 

Quinn studied the ground. “I recall you being much more effective at solving this sort of thing than you currently are.”

 

“I could try smashing it,” she offered.

 

“That’s just desperate enough to work.”

 

So she took out her saber and warmed up with a frustration-fueled stabbing thrust at the center of the monolith. She drove her saber through with remarkably little trouble and started pumping raw power into it. By the time she withdrew, the whole thing was weak enough for a flurry of powerful blows to break it into chunks, then pebbles, then something approaching sand.

 

Quinn looked at the mess and its attendant dust cloud. “Nothing,” he said.

 

She wiped her eyes. “Well, I feel a little better, at least.”

 

“You would. I am anxious to go, if we’re finished here.”

 

“Yeah. Maybe we can come back for some orbital bombardment later.”

 

Quinn followed her back toward her speeder. “I think that would make me feel better, too.”

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How long do those limericks take you to write? They're really fun and match so well.

 

They're usually 2-5 minutes, and some of them have the benefit of me sleeping on the problem and waking up with better ideas. For most of these entries I pick one image or sentiment, then bang my head against a rhyming dictionary until something falls into place :rolleyes:

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78. In which Nalenne wallows in self-pity

 

We each have our own way to mourn,

To cope with a feeling forlorn.

Some try something new

To avoid feeling blue,

But some keep one method well-worn.

 

 

Nalenne sat at the counter and yelled. “Pierce. Ice cream?”

 

Rather than yelling back to answer Nalenne, Pierce jogged over to the mess. “Yes. My lord. About that.”

 

“We’re not out already. We can’t be out. I’m too miserable to be out of ice cream.”

 

“You’ve been eating it for four meals a day ever since the, ah, time at which you started eating it.” He did not mention Servant Nine.

 

“It was only twice a day. Until just recently because Voss is horrible and I can’t think of anything else to try and, and I screwed my ex over when he didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

“No, milord, he did something wrong.”

 

“I don’t pay you to shove facts in my face. I pay you to keep ice cream in stock.

 

“Give it a moment.” Pierce stepped out of the way to let Vette and a very large container of triple coco chunk through. “Same consumption level, more booze, we’re looking at a relapse, trigger likely the captain,” he muttered as she passed.

 

“Where did you get that?” demanded Nalenne, shoving several empty shot glasses aside.

 

“Definitely not a secret stash from where we control the supply so you don’t kill yourself gorging on comfort food,” said Vette.

 

“Uh, Vette?” said Pierce.

 

“What? She asked.”

 

Nalenne already had the carton open and was struggling to work her spoon into the hard-frozen stuff. “Keep your secret stash at a better temperature.”

 

“We’ll do that, milord,” said Pierce evenly. “Anything else you need?”

 

“I should lose all hope more often. It makes you guys so accommodating.”

 

“Please don’t,” said Vette. “It makes you unbelievably unpleasant to interact with.”

 

“Well, I think you’re a b****, too.”

 

“And I’m only still alive after that infraction because you love me.”

 

Nalenne finally got a hard chip of ice cream into her mouth. “M. Mmm mm…m…meh?”

 

Pierce raised an eyebrow at her.

 

Nalenne finished swallowing. “This is wrong,” she explained. “Chocolate’s off.”

 

“How do you figure?” said Vette.

 

“There’s less of it. Everyone hates me, I can’t keep a man, I’m a failure at taking care of my friends, and now there’s less chocolate in my ice cream.”

 

“Could be a bum batch,” suggested Pierce.

 

“Unacceptable.”

 

“There is a war on, milord. These things happen.”

 

“The Republic deprived me of real ice cream, everyone hates me, I can’t fix anything, and I’ll die alone. I’m going back to bed.”

 

“I repeat, my lord, everyone doesn’t hate you,” said Vette.

 

“You just said I was unbelievably unpleasant.”

 

“My lord…”

 

“And why is the chocolate gone? Where’s Captain Know-it-all? I bet he would know about supply problems.” Nalenne grabbed the carton and started toward the bridge.

 

Quinn, having heard the stomping, met her halfway. “Why is my chocolate gone?” she asked him. Jaesa looked up from her reading, but said nothing.

 

“Given the distributor?” he asked, scanning the carton with a critical eye. “There have been heavy shipping disruptions in sector seventy-three, dramatically cutting chocolate production. The Confectioners’ Guild (*) has already taken action against both the Republic and an opportunistic pirate organization in the region. Estimates are that the affected systems will be secured within two weeks, but there has already been sufficient disruption to interfere with several of their deliveries.”

 

“This is why I keep you. Still, they should just ship fewer cartons before deciding to diminish their ice cream formula like this.” Nalenne shoved another big spoonful into her mouth and took a moment to melt/chew/swallow it down. “This is a travesty.”

 

Quinn just looked at her. “I am not inclined to disagree, my lord.”

 

“This is normal for her,” Jaesa reminded him.

 

“You both hate me, too. I can tell. I’m sorry, Quinn. I’m really sorry. I would hate me, too.”

 

He fixed his gaze on a point over her left shoulder. “I wasn’t planning on hating you, my lord.”

 

“Now you’re being tactful. That means I did something wrong. I hate everything. Find me something to smash tomorrow, please.” Before anyone could respond, Nalenne turned around and ran to her quarters.

 

“Confectioners’ Guild better hurry up,” growled Pierce.

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79. In which Nalenne lays out Plan B

 

When organic conundrums get tough,

Sometimes DNA is enough.

Just look and you’ll see,

Bases G, A, C, T,

Can spell out remarkable stuff.

 

 

“So we’re stuck,” said Nalenne.

 

“We truly dislike the lack of killing here,” said Broonmark.

 

“The Voss talked about getting us both living to set things right, but we don’t exactly have anything for Quinn to live in, nor any means of putting him there.”

 

“This is true,” bubbled Broonmark. “Better to kill.”

 

“I was thinking, we might work on the thing-to-live-in while we try to figure out the putting-him-there.”

 

“Sith clan’s dumbest’s body drifts outside Corellia, after righteous killing. It will not be found.”

 

“Therein lies the problem.” Nalenne gestured nervously. “You’re the best biologist I know, Broonmark. If there’s anything we can find or construct or something, preferably something that looks like him, you’ll find a way.”

 

“We would require DNA to start. But Sith clan burned everything belonging to clan’s dumbest after betrayal and correct killing.”

 

“Yeah, therein lies the problem. Would anyone have saved something? Anywhere?”

 

“While we would have enjoyed dumbest’s blood, we never spilled any.” Broonmark paused again. “Med bay may save. Hospitals. Perhaps military or government…Imperial government is creepy.”

 

“They feel the same way about you.”

 

“Hoth common law was better. All disputes: killing. No government needed.”

 

“Maybe, but the Citadel is what we’ve got. I’ll check about any sample storage they do have.”

 

“Even if body is regrown, Sith clan cannot force the dead into living form. Opposite of killing is opposite of our specialty.”

 

“Maybe. But the raw material can’t hurt, right? If we come across something impossible, Broonmark, I want to be ready.”

 

“Sith clan has better things to do with time. Sith clan owes dumbest one nothing. Kill. Move on.”

 

“I think we’ve established that killing isn’t happening.”

 

“Sith clan’s effort is weak. Clan wishes to heal itself instead.” Broonmark shook his head. “There is no healing that big a jerk.”

 

“Whoa. Since when did you have a problem with Quinn?”

 

“Since always. Also since betrayal. Also since Sith clan’s dumbest used to keep coming to cargo hold to read comics and throw dirty looks at us. Also since every time clan’s dumbest yells at us for leaving our kill on the coffee table.”

 

“I…I didn’t realize…”

 

Broonmark shrugged. “Sith clan needs. We obey Sith clan.”

 

“I suddenly, really appreciate your not whining all this time. Just…let me know if you think of anything, okay? And don’t tell anyone. Especially not Jaesa. If she knows I’m trying something she’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

 

“Sith clan is safe.” Broonmark crossed his arms. “Sith clan is stupid, but fortunately for Sith clan nobody else in clan speaks Talz.”

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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.”

 

“No!”

 

“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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81. In which Vette points out a flaw in the plan

 

When chaos and trouble are rife,

It’s smart to track each moving knife.

I feel I should mention,

The span of attention’s

Proportional to that of life.

 

 

“Hey. My lord.”

 

“Hey. Vette.”

 

“Whatcha gonna do with your hard-earned Quinn remnants?”

 

“So you heard about that.”

 

“I have my ways. What’s the plan for ‘em?”

 

“Nothing, for now. Keep an ear out for a solution, hope the DNA sample we got helps. Work until then, I guess, because for once Quinn’s favored answer to everything may be the only thing to do, just don’t ever tell him I said so.”

 

“About that solution thing. I didn’t say anything when you gave the guy who sent killer droids after you his own personal droid for customization as he saw fit. Looking back, I have no idea why I didn’t point that out, but there it is.”

 

“It’s not like 2V could possibly threaten me.”

 

“Maybe. But now you’re seriously talking about physically restoring the man.”

 

“Well, yeah.”

 

“Because restoring physical capability to the guy who tried to kill you is a great idea.”

 

“That was a long time ago.”

 

“Yeah, we’ve pissed him off plenty more since then.”

 

“He wouldn’t, Vette. It isn’t like that any more.”

 

“You’ve forgiven him,” she said accusingly. “You’ve forgiven him for the entire elaborate scam that was his getting close to you.”

 

“Why are you so mad about this?”

 

“Apart from the part where he knocked me to the bottom of the totem pole from day one and still appears to rate above me there?”

 

“You were always at the bottom of the totem pole, Vette. It was a two-person totem pole before he came along. That doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

 

“Maybe I should ask, why aren’t you mad? Have you noticed that he is every bit as annoying as he ever was, he’s right back to serving Sith over your head that will probably betray you, and he’s just waiting for you to do the hard work for him, again?”

 

“I’m…kind of used to doing what he says, really. Quinn bosses around. I complain a lot and then I get the job done.”

 

“And then he shivs you. This pattern is established.”

 

“It’s not a pattern. It only happened once.”

 

“That’s because you killed him before he could repeat the behavior. Good job, nipping that in the bud. Now don’t set it up to happen again.”

 

“I owe him this, Vette.”

 

“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard! And in this crowd I hear stupid things on a nearly-hourly basis!”

 

“I have to ask. Is all this your way of saying you’re mad that he caught you rigging his console to display nothing but Republic propaganda again?”

 

Vette spent a moment wavering between straight face and ferocious scowl. “Rrrrrg,” she finally said, and stomped off.

 

When Nalenne headed to the mess for a snack a few minutes later, Pierce looked up from his second breakfast. “Milord. Heard about the genetic-sample efforts. Are you sure you want to physically restore the guy who tried to kill you?”

 

“Don’t start.”

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82. In which Nalenne takes a day off with Vette and Jaesa

 

Author’s note: I just realized that several of my previous-entry annotations signified by (*) were bad links because I copy-pasted smart quotes and the forum didn’t like it! I have gone back and corrected those.

 

A Sith on vacation time will,

If you let her, quite fail to chill.

She’ll play like she works:

Unfettered, berserk,

And perfectly ready to kill.

 

 

“Give it up.”

 

“If you think I’m going to surrender my lightsaber,” said Nalenne, “you’re tragically deluded.”

 

“I’m not giving you a choice.”

 

“Death first.”

 

Vette rolled her eyes. “Jaesa, can you get out of the pool and take charge of Nalenne’s lightsaber so she runs out of excuses to avoid swimming?”

 

“I don’t know why I let you drag me here,” grumbled Nalenne, but she gave her lightsaber up anyway.

 

“It’s not that I’m not enjoying the completely insane new work schedule you decided on,” said Vette. “It’s just that I’m not enjoying it. And also you need some downtime.”

 

“Angst never rests, hon.”

 

Vette’s eyes widened a little more. Her jaw set. With a speed that would have done credit to a nexu, she launched herself out of the pool and around Nalenne to give the Sith a hard shove toward the water. Nalenne allowed it, more or less, and stumbled gracelessly in.

 

Vette followed her. “Angst this.” She splashed, hard.

 

Nalenne coughed and spat. “Maybe I will.” She dispensed with the hand movement in favor of a Force push, swamping the Twi’lek. And several strangers a few meters beyond her. And several more strangers who had been reading some ways away from the pool.

 

Nalenne looked apprehensively toward the lifeguard, a skinny Selkath youth. He looked back at her, gulped loudly, and said nothing.

 

“This establishment might be kind of okay,” conceded Nalenne.

 

“By the way, master,” said Jaesa, “the suit looks great on you.”

 

“Really? I was just thinking it’s so non-protective that I’m going to bleed out and die the minute somebody throws a sharp look my way.”

 

“You’ve been getting looks.”

 

“Have not.”

 

“The nice kind.”

 

“Just as it should be,” said Vette. “Great to have some potential company that isn’t our boys, huh?”

 

“No,” said Nalenne stubbornly.

 

Vette splashed her again.

 

They played around for a while, Vette demonstrating how a Twi’lek swimming underwater will trail floating lekku in a creditable Alderaan doubleback shark impression, Jaesa sunning herself and throwing positive commentary whenever Nalenne threatened to get unpleasant, which was every ten seconds or so.

 

“So,” Vette said at some point. “After-supper plans.”

 

“I’m not doing the massage thing.”

 

“Why not? It’s great.”

 

“If I’m going to be paying for unclothed contact with a stranger, I refuse to go halfway.”

 

Jaesa sucked in a breath. “Did you have to say it that way, master?”

 

“Canceling plans, are we?”

 

“After that image? Yes.”

 

“Mud wrap?” suggested Vette.

 

“Mud what?” said Nalenne.

 

“You get this mud mask slathered all over, and then you get wrapped up for a bit. It’s all soothing-detox stuff.”

 

“I don’t know where to start. First, who even thought that was a good idea, and second, I bathe in mud at work all the time. Why would I do it on my day off?”

 

“Fine. The hair services are out, since between you and me we don’t have any hair. Nails?”

 

“You think they have a shade of red that won’t clash with my skin?”

 

“They have everything here.” Vette started pulling herself out of the water, paused while holding herself up on the edge of the pool. “Hey, Jaesa, guys at three o’ clock checking you out.”

 

“Stop doing that! It’s not like I’m available.”

 

“Tough being pretty, isn’t it? Maybe we can catch a trio later.”

 

“Master…”

 

Nalenne cocked her head. “Jaesa, are you trying to pin me between my reluctance to have fun and my desire to see you squirm? Because that’s just not nice.”

 

Vette got the rest of the way out and stretched. “I know which side I would pick.”

 

"Yeah," said Nalenne. "Just for today, yeah, I think I'm with you."

Edited by bright_ephemera
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83. In which Nalenne has and holds while Broonmark questions

 

A circle of clever adults

On difficult matters consults.

It’s wise to take note:

A crowd may outvote,

But the Sith’s the one counting results.

 

 

“Captain.”

 

“My lord?”

 

“I’ve been thinking about the fact that you might be stuck like this forever, and how rotten that is.”

 

“Coincidentally, so have I.”

 

“And I’m sorry. I’m really sorry I can’t find a solution for this. I’m sorry I did it to you in the first place.”

 

“You have pointed out multiple times, and accurately, that I would have killed you otherwise.”

 

“Hmm. Then I guess I would be bodiless.”

 

“And probably quite insane, having to be conscious but not physically amused twenty-four hours per day. A mind like yours could not endure that for long.”

 

“I guess I’m not so sorry I killed you.”

 

Quinn covered his face with one hand. “That was not the intended conclusion, my lord.”

 

“No. No, listen. I know I’m out of ideas, but if anything comes up, if you find anything, tell me. Okay? You have my money, my authority, my lightsaber, my talents of persuasion, my talents of coercion; anything I can confiscate, crush, buy, or burn, name it and it’s yours. If we spot what you need, if there is a way, I’ll make it happen for you, no matter what it takes.”

 

“That’s very kind, my lord. You said exactly the same thing to Jaesa an hour ago when she mentioned those shoes she wanted.”

 

“I meant it then, too,” Nalenne said defensively.

 

“You really put the ‘thoughtless’ in ‘thoughtless generosity.’”

 

“I don’t know what else to do. But that’s not the point. I meant to offer a temporary measure. We know you’re stuck close to me or close to the ship, right? If you wanted, I could get another ship for myself and the crew. You could take the Helicarrier with 2V and whatever military crew you want, and go freelance, or go back into the system, whichever. You wouldn’t have to be near me for the rest of my life.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Say the word and it’s yours. If…if you want?”

 

“Do you want to be rid of me?”

 

“Way to avoid the question.”

 

“I could evade for quite some time, my lord, if you refuse to answer first.”

 

Nalenne bit her lip. “It’s complicated, okay? This situation isn’t exactly easy on either of us.”

 

“Repeating the obvious is also a way of avoiding the question, my lord.”

 

“No. I don’t want you gone. But the option is there if it ever gets bad.”

 

“Yes. If it ever gets so bad that being set adrift with only 2V-R8 for company is the preferred solution, I shall notify you.”

 

She decided to give up there.

 

Broonmark fell into step with Nalenne on her way back to her quarters. “We overheard Sith clan.”

 

“And?” She didn’t really want to talk about it.

 

“Sith clan still says traitor is welcome. Clan has carried infected flesh for many months. Infection should have been cut away and cast aside long ago, but it is still here, and it eats at the clan. Also it talks annoyingly at all hours, such as when we are trying to sleep. If clan is free to change ships, then why do we remain?”

 

“I need him,” Nalenne admitted.

 

Broonmark gurgled annoyedly. “Why?”

 

“I don’t know. Why do I need air?”

 

Broonmark raised a claw for quiet and turned his translation datapad on. He handed it over to her, motioning for her to watch as it translated his many unfamiliar words.

 

“Because air carries in the oxygen required for our cellular metabolism while carrying away the waste products of that selfsame metabolism.”

 

“How literal. No. Why do I need, I don’t know, sunshine?”

 

“Because in addition to assisting with the regulation of certain hormones, it is necessary for the photoreaction that generates vitamin D, which is otherwise only obtainable through dietary supplements. We see Sith clan never studied biology.”

 

Nalenne rolled her eyes. “No. You want to know why I need him? Why do I need the rush of bloody victory?”

 

“Oh.” Broonmark considered for some time. “Combination of entertainment, rush of endorphins, healthy cardiovascular activity, and the emotional satisfaction of a challenging job done well?”

 

Nalenne grinned. “Something like that.”

 

“Sith clan can find gratification without physically restoring one who tried to kill Sith clan.”

 

Nalenne threw up her hands. “Everybody is so hung up on that part!”

 

Pierce paused on his way past. “He telling you you’re wrong about Quinn? Because if so, count my vote on his side.”

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84. Side commentary: In which Nalenne considers two non-superheroes

 

A comic store patron is faced

With stories to fit every taste.

With such varied bids,

To claim it’s for kids

Lets far too much art go to waste.

 

 

“What is this?” asked Jaesa, peering over Nalenne’s shoulder at the latest comic book.

 

Oneiros. Very cool series, came off a sub-label of Coruscant Comics.”

 

“What’s it about?”

 

“A few personifications of the major powers of the galaxy. Death, dreams, pettiness. The raw stuff of nightmares, the roots of almost every basic story our culture has ever constructed. It’s got it all: murder, suicide, monsters, betrayal, cannibalism, torture, really brutal slavery, some staggeringly creative varieties of coercion, several forms of abuse too horrible for me to talk about...”

 

“Too horrible for you to want to talk about.”

 

“Yup! It’s great, I love this series.”

 

“Please never show me any of it.”

 

“It’s really good. I think you would love it.” *

 

“I think that statement is false.”

 

“Really, really good.”

 

Jaesa walked away.

 

*

 

Nalenne caught up with her later. “Didn’t scare you, did I?”

 

Jaeas looked up from her own console. “Nah, I’ve been going through a discovery of my own lately. It’s about a supergenius tinkerer girl and her wacky adventures in a strangely technologically stunted world. Check out this visual style.”

 

“Jaesa…”

 

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

 

“It’s very…round.”

 

“All the girls are like that. Talk about your hourglass figure, huh? But look at some of these full-page spreads. The detail on that mechanic’s bench!”

 

“She’s doing mad science in her underwear.”

 

“It’s cute!”

 

“What was it you said earlier, about ‘a discovery of your own’? Jaesa, you have…tendencies…don’t you.”

 

“You just noticed this, milord?” said Pierce in passing.

 

“The mad science is a ton of fun, though, master. And look at the airships!”

 

“Going back to my catalog of unspeakable brutality now.”

 

Jaesa nodded amiably. “Going back to funny coffee machines now. I love these books.”

 

*

 

* I've heard this line.

 

Author’s note on Sandman: I cannot tell you how many times my friends have said ‘It gets less staggeringly depraved as you go! Really!’ Sandman: Cannot recommend for anyone who lacks a cast-iron stomach. However, for the kind of stories it tells, it is superbly crafted.

 

Author’s note on Girl Genius: This is pretty much the cutest thing ever. I got bored after a while, but man, when it’s good it is incredibly wacky fun good.

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85. In which Nalenne gets an unexpected tip

 

Matters can quickly go sour

At the levels of ultimate power.

Reversals are quick,

With each tick-tock-tick:

Much can change in a day or an hour.

 

 

“My lord?”

 

“Quinn, you just walked through my bedroom door without knocking.”

 

“I can’t knock, my lord.”

 

“Or yelling.”

 

“I had a good reason. I have something very difficult to say. I’m hoping you won’t fly into a murderous rage if I say it.”

 

“Bad way to start, but okay, I’m curious.”

 

“The Emperor’s Hand has decided to remove you and place Servant Nine as the Wrath.”

 

“But who’s going to be Nine then?”

 

“I didn’t ask.” The old intensity was rising in his eyes. “Nalenne, they’ve ordered me to help dispose of you. We don’t have much time to raise a defense.”

 

“Got any battle droids from the last time?”

 

“Not funny.”

 

“You’re actually helping me?”

 

“I’m trying to. I am supposed to have you alone on the ship tomorrow morning. We need to have measures in place by then.”

 

“You’re helping me.”

 

“I’m supposed to get the rest of the crew off the ship. You’ll have to brief them on the appropriate cover action. They won’t take it from me.”

 

“You got an order from higher-up, and instead of obeying it you’re helping me.”

 

“I was rather hoping the gesture would prompt you to pay attention to what I am saying so you can survive the next twenty-four hours, my lord.”

 

“Sorry, stuck on the novelty of you helping me in this scenario.”

 

“The Emperor’s Hand is a force to be reckoned with. It would be wise to focus.”

 

“Fine. Any idea who the assassin will be?”

 

“No. At worst, it may be Servant Nine himself, with support.”

 

“Servant Nine’s too cocky to bring support.”

 

“Then we may have a chance.”

 

“No, wait, back up a bit, captain. You’re really helping me?”

 

He studied her face. “Based on previous patterns I estimate a forty per cent chance you won’t snap out of this until I make some dramatic declaration, and since I just ran through the more probable ‘you won’t snap out of it until I offer the prospect of an entertaining fight’ scenario, I’m forced to fall back on it. I am yours, Nalenne. No authority, no force, no command will threaten that again.” He drew himself a little straighter. “Furthermore it’s an idiotic personnel decision on their part. I can’t support it.”

 

“I’m starting to believe you.”

 

“I am relieved to hear that.”

 

“I might actually cry.”

 

“Please don’t, my lord.”

 

“You’re helping me.”

 

“Do you have even the slightest interest in taking action to preserve your life?”

 

“Oh! Right. Let’s get to work.”

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I've been on Team Quinn, because I'm a sucker for the bad boys, but I didn't see it happening until recently with the little hints that they might be able to get him a body, and I knew he'd have to at the VERY least show his "cough" UNDYING support for Nalenne. So it will be interesting to see where the story goes from here, I can think of more than one creditably excellent story progression, not all of which involve Quinn back in the saddle, so to say. The Flaky Creative Mind has much to do, hmm!!!! Can't wait to see how it all turns out.
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86. In which we beseech the powers that be for class rebalancing

 

A Sorc’s full advantage would take

Half a day just to list. He can break

Quite a lot with his art.

So sadly, he’ll start

Well ahead when a lot is at stake.

 

 

It was, admittedly, not a very complicated plan.

 

Morning, and Nalenne ordered her crew to go grab some biochemical samples from the chaotic former zoos and gardens of Corellia.

 

Then she idly flipped through an issue of the Scarlet Nexu’s Revenge. Quinn wandered off at some point. She took no notice. After she finished the comic book she drew up a short nonsensical shopping list and left the ship.

 

Even with the advance warning, she was surprised to see that Servant Nine was approaching the ramp just as she was coming down it. Interesting timing. “Servant Nine,” she said warmly. “Long time no see. My sister’s kinkfest kick you out yet?”

 

“I’m quite through with your sister,” he said. “In the end she was as disappointing as you. No, I’m here about your job.”

 

“Oh? Wanna go out sometime?”

 

“I will.” He ran a dramatic pair of sparks down his arms to burst into a flash of light between his hands. “You won’t.”

 

Before Nalenne had a chance to give the signal, Pierce’s first round impacted at Servant Nine’s heels.

 

Nalenne drew her saber and grinned. “Showtime.”

 

*

 

“THIS. IS. NOT. FAIR.”

 

Servant Nine smiled lazily and leaped once more, smashing down to fling Nalenne back. “Sorry, did you think you could touch me?”

 

“Hand clan cheats,” buzzed Broonmark, hanging suspended beside Nalenne in the lingering aftereffects of the shock.

 

An easy flick of Servant Nine’s hand threw lightning-pain through Nalenne and branching amidst her friends, once, twice, before he even seemed to start thinking about what he was doing. The moment her muscles started obeying her again, she Force leaped back in to deal another staggering blow.

 

Servant Nine casually jammed Pierce’s rifle from afar, refreshed a disabling whirlwind around Vette, flared another burst of sparks at 2V-R8. Nalenne struck. His static shield flashed brilliantly on breaking, blinding her and causing Broonmark and Jaesa to grunt in distress. Then he was running, flicking more lightning as he went, briefly turning Nalenne’s legs to lead with some Force trick. When Jaesa got close he burst even faster, leaving the Jedi choking on a fresh puff of dust.

 

Then, just for fun, Servant Nine stopped short and raised purple pain around the whole battlefield.

 

Nalenne kept at it. She had no choice. The raw hatred that powered her Force Choke after he knocked her back again and started channeling some healing meditation on himself…well, it should’ve killed him outright, but he slithered free instead.

 

“Nalenne,” yelled Vette, uselessly firing another stream of blaster bolts into Servant Nine’s shield. “Ideas?”

 

“His hair’s starting to muss. That means he can’t keep popping that shield up much longer.”

 

“Hey,” said Servant Nine, annoyed.

 

“I know you, babe,” she told him. “Hey, Broonmark, go long.”

 

Servant Nine cast one curious look at the Talz, who obediently started trotting away. Then Servant Nine looked to Nalenne and slammed another crackling, stunning force through her.

 

“Dammit,” she said, and Force pushed him without raising an arm. It was powerful enough to send him straight to Broonmark’s blade, and Broonmark wasn’t stunned just then. “Everything you’ve got, guys. Just don’t shoot me when I get in close.”

 

*

 

Not only was Servant Nine’s hair mussed, but his robe was scorched in multiple places and he had actually pulled out a lightsaber rather than continuing to throw weaker and weaker Force work.

 

And that was just fine by Nalenne.

 

“Back off, guys,” she said at last. “We’re almost done.” Servant Nine started a sardonic smile at the sound of that, but Nalenne successfully beat that out of him with a few hard strikes.

 

“So what’s your opinion on witty repartee at this point?” she asked him.

 

“You’re terrible at it, pet.” He flicked an attempted stunning trick.

 

She was finally mad enough to shrug it off. “Okay, then. Killing works.”

 

He turned her around, quickly. She was more than a little aware that Pierce and Vette would have trouble maintaining a clear shot. She was also more than a little aware that they wouldn’t need it. Saber to saber. Lightning to bloody-mindedness. Servant Nine had a lot of skill and a lot of power, but the clock was ticking and Nalenne was better at staying mad.

 

Another flurry of blows, a stinging shower of sparks from him, a reflexive Force push from her. “I’m just starting to feel good,” she said, and was surprised to find it was true. Down, side, side, cross, down, thrust. This for being a certifiably awful lay, that for banging her sister, this for trying to take her job, that for trying to use her husband, and that because she truly believed Quinn would’ve gone for it.

 

Servant Nine stumbled. Nalenne’s last blow turned from a proper subduing attack to a death stroke before she could reverse it. He fell to the ground without a word.

 

“Wait a minute,” said Nalenne. “I was going to gloat. You can’t die before I gloat!”

 

“Him dying means you won, my lord,” said Quinn as he came up beside her.

 

“A win without a victory speech is scarcely a win at all. You of all people should know that.”

 

“Don’t try to reason with her,” warned Jaesa.

 

“I know,” said Quinn.

 

“That was just disappointing.” Nalenne scowled.

 

“You said that about most of Servant Nine’s performances,” Vette pointed out.

 

The crew turned to stare at Vette.

 

“What?” she said. “It’s true.”

 

“I guess…I guess we’re done here, guys,” said Nalenne. “Time to go home.”

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87. In which we learn the price of disobedience

 

The end of one major conflict, but not the end of our original problem...

 

The Imps give conditional love

Handing pain or support from above.

Serve well and they’ll give

A superb way to live –

Or just death, or a variant thereof.

 

 

“I’m keeping my salary,” said Nalenne, “But understand that the only reason I’m staying Wrath at all is that you guys just demonstrated you’re nowhere near capable of bringing up an even vaguely qualified replacement.” Nalenne made a face at the holo. “Also Quinn likes the work.”

 

“Quinn is a remarkable creature,” said Servant One. “The offer remains open, captain, if you think your droid is up to it. But I suspect your chance has passed.”

 

“What is he talking about?” asked Nalenne.

 

“An exchange,” quavered Servant Two. “The captain obeys our command. The Hand restores his body to him. A new Wrath rises.”

 

“All within the Emperor’s power,” said Servant One. “Or it would have been if you hadn’t done the exact opposite of what we wanted, you stupid weasel.”

 

“Quinn. They offered you a body?”

 

“Yes,” he said, staring fixedly at the base of the holo.

 

Nalenne blinked. “Now I’m going to cry again. Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

“It wasn’t relevant, my lord. They asked me to betray you. I declined. The cost was my concern, not yours.”

 

“I…I really want to argue more, except that you still have the option to change your mind so I think I’m just going to agree with your decision for now.”

 

“It’s appreciated, my lord.”

 

“I don’t suppose you guys could re-embody him anyway? You know, as a favor for your extremely scary Wrath?”

 

“Not likely,” said Servant One. “We may need your services, Wrath, but don’t expect us to get friendly.”

 

“Good luck finding anybody half as dangerous as me for a replacement candidate.”

 

“Servant Nine would have prevailed. Only Quinn’s treachery saved you.”

 

“You say treachery, I say getting it right for once. You’ll understand if I’m not too broken up about his play.”

 

“The Wrath is crying a lot for somebody who isn’t broken up,” observed Servant Two.

 

“Not the point. I called to say I’m not dancing to your tune for a little while, okay? Call me when you find a fight worthy of me, but for now I’m taking a vacation.” A pause. “A paid vacation.”

 

“Damn,” said Servant One.

 

“Get gone.” She cut the holo.

 

And then she had to face Quinn. “I don’t…Malavai, I can’t even hug you.”

 

“It’s hardly necessary. You realize my motivations mostly have to do with my never, ever wanting to know how much worse things would get if I betrayed you again.”

 

“You could have been rid of me, and back in business. A real job. Respectable superiors. Snazzy up-to-date uniforms, probably with some shiny new decorations.”

 

Quinn’s brow creased. She suspected he hadn’t thought of that. But the expression passed. “You have a habit of imagining choices where there are none, my lord. My loyalty is to you. It could be no other way.”

 

“Even with the uniforms?”

 

“Even with the uniforms.”

 

“Yeah. Thanks. I, um, I think I’m going to keep crying for a while. Sorry about that.”

 

He gave her the ‘you’re being unreasonable again’ look. “I was trying to help.”

 

“It’s a thing, okay? I’ll be fine. Malavai, I’m – I’m great.” She covered her face with her hands and bolted.

 

Quinn stared after her, perplexed. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “I think.”

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Honestly, I could see Quinn taking his orders, watching Nalenne and the crew die, resuming his regular job, and spending the rest of his life as a well-behaved drone, telling himself that honor only counts for the highest authority you know.

 

The hope is that the devastating psychological damage - err, sweet emotional attachment - wrought by the preceding months prompts him to think for two seconds about how he would live with himself after pulling a stunt like that. I don't think he's ever met anyone who looks after her own as determinedly as Nalenne does, and perhaps more importantly for his overall priorities I don't think he's ever met a more powerful person who still respects his opinions and is willing to champion his chosen cause. Throwing that away on the word of some cultists would offend both his Imperial-efficiency sensibilities and his "I regularly interpret the things I want to be a) good for the Empire and therefore b) morally imperative" doublethink.

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Honestly, I could see Quinn taking his orders, watching Nalenne and the crew die, resuming his regular job, and spending the rest of his life as a well-behaved drone, telling himself that honor only counts for the highest authority you know.

 

The hope is that the devastating psychological damage - err, sweet emotional attachment - wrought by the preceding months prompts him to think for two seconds about how he would live with himself after pulling a stunt like that. I don't think he's ever met anyone who looks after her own as determinedly as Nalenne does, and perhaps more importantly for his overall priorities I don't think he's ever met a more powerful person who still respects his opinions and is willing to champion his chosen cause. Throwing that away on the word of some cultists would offend both his Imperial-efficiency sensibilities and his "I regularly interpret the things I want to be a) good for the Empire and therefore b) morally imperative" doublethink.

 

I thought he was terrified that betraying her again and swapping places would make her the ghost and him the living one and that would be truly horrific. Imagine Nalene with nothing else to do but bother him. :eek:

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I thought he was terrified that betraying her again and swapping places would make her the ghost and him the living one and that would be truly horrific. Imagine Nalene with nothing else to do but bother him. :eek:

 

..........brb, rewriting the rest of this series. XD

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88. In which Quinn and Nalenne don’t start

 

If action speaks louder than word,

Some strong stuff can be overheard.

Some choices, some acts,

Show evident facts;

Denial becomes quite absurd.

 

 

“Hey. Quinn? Get in here.”

 

“My lord?”

 

“My quarters. Come on.”

 

“Is that appropriate?”

 

“What, does the bed scare you? I can’t exactly violate you now.”

 

Quinn reluctantly followed Nalenne into her quarters. She sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed and faced him.

 

“So, one, thank you, and two, I have no idea how I’m going to make this up to you.”

 

“You don’t owe me anything, my lord. I did what my duty demanded. It was nothing to do with you.”

 

“Um. Hi, that was blunt.”

 

“It’s true.”

 

“Nothing to do with me.”

 

“No, my lord. I was keeping my word. Nothing more.”

 

“You gave up the hope of…of everything. Your life back. All that to save my considerably-less-than-professionally-optimal life, but it’s nothing to do with me.”

 

""My life back' would be meaningless without my honor,” he snapped. “You know that.” A fraction of a second later, he snuffed out even that hint of emotion.

 

“Gotcha.” She looked up at him. He kept his best straight face. “I have to ask,” she said. “This is a completely different and totally unrelated subject, of course. I’m just curious. Do you have a speech prepared about how we can never be with each other or even acknowledge that it might be nice to be with each other?”

 

He did his tolerant-calm face. “Since you ask, yes. I do.”

 

“Did you break it down into all the reasons we can’t and all the reasons we shouldn’t?”

 

“There was sufficient overlap that I opted not to draw that distinction.”

 

“Ooh, ooh, can I guess the list? Lemme start: First, no body, no physical anything. This renders our every nonprofessional interaction pointless because, let’s face it, I have no admirable qualities beyond the physical and you have nothing I appreciate beyond the same.”

 

“That’s not true at all.”

 

“You always thought so.”

 

“I didn’t! You know I admire your power and determination. You know how I feel about the way you never hesitate to give your all to aid your friends and crush your enemies. About how as long as you’re at my side there is…you know that I did not intend to say any of this and that was a cheap trick, my lord.”

 

“You wouldn’t have fallen for it if you weren’t already on the edge,” she said smugly. “I knew you liked me.”

 

“Permission to retroactively apply the strict past tense to every sentiment I expressed there.”

 

“Denied.”

 

“Your rare moments of base cunning are damnably timed.”

 

“Every now and then you still underestimate me. Admit it, you love that I do that, too.”

 

“Were you going to return to listing the reasons any affectionate exercise would be not only pointless, but actively destructive? Because I can pick up if you’re finished.”

 

“I was going to talk about you first.”

 

Someone knocked at the door.

 

“Come in,” said Quinn loudly. “Please.”

 

Jaesa shuffled in. She was wearing fuzzy slippers with her regular Jedi robe, and she was carrying a couple of bags of unpopped popcorn.

 

“Hi, Captain Quinn,” she said shyly. “Master, I just got the holovid for My Little Nerfling VII, I thought maybe we could watch it together tonight.” She waved the popcorn bags.

 

“Oh! Jaesa, that sounds nice, but I’m a little…”

 

Jaesa looked from Nalenne to Quinn and back. “Busy?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Her eyes were completely round. “He’s sleeping over?”

 

“He’s my husband, Jaesa, it doesn’t really count as a sleepover.”

 

“Ex-husband,” Quinn reminded her.

 

“I never submitted that paperwork.* You only escaped on the technicality of being dead.”

 

“I just thought we could…” Jaesa looked down at the popcorn. “Okay.”

 

“Will that be all, Jedi?” Quinn said maliciously.

 

“Quit it, Quinn. We can get together tomorrow night, okay, Jaesa?”

 

“Yeah. Sure. I guess I’m just used to having you, you know, whenever.”

 

“I fear you won’t be ‘having her’ tonight,” Quinn said in a tone closely resembling the one he used for victory monologues.

 

“Good night, Jaesa,” Nalenne said gently. The Jedi nodded and shuffled out again.

 

Nalenne turned to Quinn and tried not to laugh. “What was that?”

 

“What was what?” he said, returning to his perfectly neutral expression.

 

“You were ready for blood!”

 

“I don’t know what you mean, my lord.”

 

“Tell me again how much you don’t care about me personally.”

 

“I can. I will. I…permission to be excused, my lord.”

 

“As we go forward, captain, I’ll be looking for ways to render what’s both impossible and inadvisable, merely inadvisable.”

 

“I wouldn’t have saved your life if I’d known you would make it an excuse to torture me again.”

 

“Well then, I’m lucky your decision had nothing to do with me, aren’t I? Dismissed, Quinn.”

 

And before she had finished saying his name, he was gone.

 

 

* - this is a dirty lie. Nalenne inundated every government and military office that had a published contact frequency with rants on how completely over that marriage was.

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89. In which Niselle and Nalenne talk some more

Today’s entry has spoilers for the Sith Inquisitor endgame.

 

Non-game-spoiler, yes-the-rest-of-this-post-spoiler synopsis for those who wish to follow Nalenne’s plot without ruining the Inquisitor (though, come the end of the series, I can’t help you):

Nalenne and Niselle quarrel. A lot. The Dark Council is not amused. Andronikos tries to tell Nalenne something, but is interrupted and dragged away by a huffy Niselle.

 

 

Professional tensions run high

When nemeses fail to die.

A grievance recalled

From a grudge long forestalled

May throw office meetings awry.

 

 

“I can’t believe you demanded the floor during my meeting with the Dark Council for this.” Nalenne infused her lightsaber with enough power to fling Niselle’s lightning bolt off to one side.

 

“Darling, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.” Niselle flung a crackling Force sphere of raw pain. It hit Nalenne squarely in the shoulder.

 

“Darth Marr, make her stop,” whined Nalenne, transferring her lightsaber to her good arm and running in for an attack.

 

“Please do,” said the cyborg Darth Ravage, looking down from his lofty seat to where the sisters fought on the wide floor of the Dark Council’s assembly room. “You’re the one who insisted on promoting this brat to the Council.”

 

“Don’t look at me,” said Darth Marr. His face was hidden behind a blank mask. “She’s only fighting because her wretched sister killed her boyfriend, and that sister is only here today because of Darth Vowrawn’s machinations.”

 

Nalenne leaped, downswept, and was thrown back again by the explosion of Niselle’s Force shield.

 

The noble Sith Pureblood Darth Vowrawn gestured languidly. “Darth Niselle would have picked a fight regardless of how many boyfriends the Wrath has killed. She doesn’t have a tenth the class the Wrath does – and I will remind you, the Wrath has earned her place here.”

 

Niselle was on the run, firing lightning when she could. Nalenne helped the retreat process by Force pushing Niselle with crushing power into the base of her own Council chair.

 

“No fair!” yelled Niselle.

 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” said Marr, “but I’m starting to miss Darth Baras.”

 

“I would take even Thanaton back,” said Ravage.

 

“Or Vengean’s theatrics.”

 

“Or Ekkage’s interminable speeches.”

 

“It seems you gentlemen have no respect for strength anymore,” said Vowrawn.

 

“Cattiness,” said Marr. “The word you’re looking for is cattiness. And you’re right, I have no respect for it at all.”

 

“DIE,” said Niselle, shielding herself again and pushing toward Nalenne.

 

“What are we going to do if she kills Niselle, anyway?” said Ravage. “She doesn’t have time to be both Wrath and Councillor.”

 

“Bah, she could easily handle serving on the Council,” said Vowrawn. “She’s a very capable young woman.”

 

“Take that!” Nalenne swung at Niselle and missed.

 

“That’s not how it works,” said Marr. “You’ll recall the Wrath has already killed two Dark Council members, and on neither occasion did she take his seat.” He looked across the room to a scrawny tattooed human. “All the same, rookie, you’ve inherited the most ill-fated Council chair of the last two years. Good luck with that.”

 

Niselle was once again running. Nalenne rolled her eyes and leaped her twelfth Force charge of the evening. The fight raged on.

 

A familiar rough voice interrupted them next. “Nis? When you get a moment?”

 

“Not now, Andronikos,” said Niselle. Crackle, crash.

 

Andronikos leaned against the great stone frame of the chamber’s entrance. “Khem Val’s gotten into the Academy classrooms again. He’s going nuts in there.”

 

“What? No!” shrieked Niselle. Zap, swing. “He knows better than to do that when I’m not there to watch!” She bolted for the door.

 

Andronikos waited a moment after she ran past. “Look, Nalenne, I heard about what happened with your captain. There’s something I wanted to -“

 

Niselle ran back and grabbed him by the shirt. “Come on, Andronikos.” She dragged him out of the room.

 

Nalenne stood alone on the Dark Council floor.

 

“Are you quite finished?” Marr said coldly.

 

“Yeah. Why don’t you guys just decide among yourselves what needs smashing and call me back later.”

Edited by bright_ephemera
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90. In which the crew considers their options

 

When ill-advised openings call,

The forecast may shock and appall.

Preventative measures

Against certain pleasures

May serve to dodge heartache for all.

 

 

Pierce sat down at the mess table. “This strategy session is now called to order.”

 

Jaesa stopped mid-bite. “I was just here for a sandwich.”

 

“Had to lure you in. Knew you wouldn’t come otherwise.” As Pierce spoke, Vette ushered Broonmark in and closed the mess door.

 

“We all know the Wrath is full-on determined to bring Quinn back now,” continued Pierce. “We all know this is a problem.”

 

“I don’t think it’s a problem at all,” said Jaesa. “I think it’s wonderful.”

 

“Let us agree for the purposes of this session,” said Vette, “that Jaesa holds the dissenting and incorrect opinion on everything. Her objections go without saying.”

 

“I concur,” said Pierce.

 

“Brrrblop,” said Broonmark.

 

“Maybe the Wrath won’t find an answer,” said Pierce. “But maybe she will. She’s motivated enough for it right now.”

 

“Thanks to Quinn’s cheap ‘oh look at me I’m so loyal’ maneuver,” said Vette.

 

“It was a real sacrifice, done out of love!” said Jaesa.

 

“It was a publicity stunt,” huffed Vette. “Done to worm his way back into her affections. Even further.”

 

“Whatever it was,” said Pierce, “if he comes back we need to limit his influence.”

 

“Rrrrbgop?” suggested Broonmark.

 

“Don’t suppose you have your translation pad on you?” said Pierce.

 

Broonmark hung his head and shook it a little. “Blop.”

 

“Figures. All right. Jaesa, if you don’t have the stomach for decisive action, at least tell me you can help keep an eye on the captain. Make sure he doesn’t pick up any more secretive extracurriculars or pen pals.”

 

“I don’t think that kind of scrutiny is called for.”

 

“I had another idea for a way you could help us all,” said Vette.

 

“And that is?” said Jaesa.

 

“Could you just seduce Nalenne already? It’d get her mind off of Quinn pretty darn fast.”

 

“Vette!”

 

“Easiest thing in the world, Jedi,” said Pierce. “Just do whatever you’ve been doing all this time and then add a little tongue.”

 

“Pierce!”

 

“Boprssopsssschhhhhlllllick.”

 

“Broonmark!”

 

“We’re all just trying to protect Nalenne’s feelings,” said Vette. “And that means having her not back in bed with Quinn.”

 

“This is disgusting!” Jaesa shoved her sandwich away and stood up.

 

Pierce reached out and laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Sit down. Don’t want to have to make your life difficult.”

 

“So obviously,” said Vette, “we’re watching his activities. He’s still gonna have way too much influence over her.”

 

“And if he comes back, you can bet he’ll be reinstated as an officer. Don’t think I can get promotion paperwork through any time soon, so I have a vested interest in his return not happening.”

 

“You can’t just block his reinstatement,” said Jaesa. “You’ve got no standing for a formal objection to it.”

 

“That so?” said Pierce. “He acted against the Wrath once. And just now he acted against the Emperor’s Hand. Either one would earn him a violent, and permanent, dishonorable discharge.”

 

“The accusation of a soldier and a slave won’t hold up,” said Jaesa. “Only a Sith’s word would do that.”

 

A pause.

 

“Her sister,” said Vette. “We get Niselle to demand his removal.”

 

Pierce grimaced. “You saying we get to pick between striking a deal with that maniac, or letting Quinn have his way?”

 

Another, longer pause, while everyone stared at the table.

 

“Niselle,” Pierce and Vette said in unison. “Definitely.”

 

Broonmark nodded. “Bkorrrblop.”

 

“Pity killing him again would put us right back where we started,” said Pierce. “But if things go south, then we get Darth Niselle to put in a word, I go fix 2V to stop listening to the captain, and hopefully Jaesa comes ‘round to our way of thinking. That’ll be a fair amount of damage mitigation right there.”

 

“Sounds like a plan,” said Vette. “Remember, Jaesa. Tongue.”

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91. In which Nalenne, Pierce, and Broonmark raise hell

 

For hooligans spoiling to fight

A job as enforcer is right.

The major attraction

Is job satisfaction:

It’s fun to wreak havoc outright.

 

 

“On your left, twenty meters,” said Nalenne.

 

Pierce turned and gunned, taking out two Republic troopers at once. “You still can’t judge distance worth spit, milord.”

 

“My world is ‘lightsaber range’ and ‘about to be lightsaber range,’ what did you expect?” Nalenne Force pushed a soldier into a nearby tree at killing speed. “That looks like a biggish squad up ahead. You think we should wait for support?”

 

Pierce looked back over his shoulder. The blaster-scorched swath through the forest extended back quite some way. They could still see the rest of the crew back there, along with some Imperial troopers, proceeding slowly while securing a series of small buildings along the way.

 

Pierce looked at Nalenne. Nalenne looked at Pierce. “Nah.”

 

“How much further to the outpost proper?” she asked.

 

“’About to be lightsaber range,’ he said dryly. “Over this next ridge, maybe half a klick into the valley. There’s another couple hundred ‘Pubs garrisoned there. Should be a good time.”

 

“And see, this is why I like getting jobs from your friends.”

 

The Republic squad got to within firing range and fanned out to take position. Nalenne and Pierce sped up to join them on the dance floor.

 

It didn’t take long to clear that out. The Sith and the Imperial kept moving. Before long Broonmark came sprinting through the forest from up ahead, a huge red-and-white ghost wielding a vibroblade, eerily silent. He stopped short to bow to Nalenne. “We are happy to report that the outpost is empty.”

 

“Nobody was there?”

 

“Many were there. Now none are there.”

 

“What’s up?” asked Pierce.

 

“He says he already cleared the outpost.”

 

Pierce scowled. “Without us? I’ll kill you, freak.” He took aim.

 

Broonmark laughed, a disturbingly wet bubbling sound. “All dead. But we saved big fort, seventeen klicks east.”

 

“He says we can take the next fort over.”

 

“Fort Rieekan? Not a bad idea.” Pierce nodded. “Let’s let those slobs back there clean up this place while we move on.”

 

“Nothing to clean up,” blipped Broonmark. “Except the dead.”

 

“I’ll assume that was bragging again,” said Pierce.

 

“Don’t mind him, Broonmark. Good job,” said Nalenne.

 

“Yeah, yeah, good job, but leave us a piece of the action next time, eh?” said Pierce. He rubbed his head and looked around the scene. “Kolto check before we go on, or we good to go? We could wait for 2V if we absolutely have to.”

 

“Nah, I’m good,” said Nalenne.

 

Broonmark considered his own heavily stained pelt. “Almost none of this is ours. Let us hunt.”

 

“Blech, that’s a lot more walking,” said Nalenne.

 

“Thought it was all ‘about to be lightsaber range’ to you, milord.”

 

“Hush, you. Let’s go grab speeders at the outpost.”

 

They set off at a fast walk. “Someday,” said Pierce, “you’ll have to show us the tough jobs you always talked about with the other guy. These ‘Pubs are boring me.”

 

“Someday, Pierce. You busy tomorrow?”

 

“Make me an offer, milord. Make it good.”

 

“Tell Sith clan artillery to run fast tomorrow,” quorked Broonmark. “We will not slow down to coddle him.”

 

“If that was more about kill-stealing I will shoot him.”

 

“Have I ever mentioned how much I love you boys?”

 

“Don’t care how much you love him. He keeps cutting me out of fights, I’ll shoot him.”

 

Broonmark only laughed.

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