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There is no death, there is only Wrath

STAR WARS: The Old Republic > English > Community Content > Fan Fiction
There is no death, there is only Wrath

iamthehoyden's Avatar

06.17.2012 , 08:01 PM | #71
I actually clapped today when i saw there were new stories here! Yay!!
aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?
Fan Fiction: My Name is Solomon Crae The Man in the Box

DarthRamette's Avatar

06.17.2012 , 09:08 PM | #72
This is awesome. I was kinda sulking after Thursday Morning Wrath was ending but found this today. This is funny and definatally puts the Wrath in a new light.

bright_ephemera's Avatar

06.18.2012 , 04:56 AM | #73
37. In which the crew seeks Voss answers (IV/IV)

The Voss are a curious race
From a curious curious place.
Though in attitude they’re
Undeniably square,
All their talk is a circular chase.


“Ease up,” said Pierce, hunching over the flight controls.

THUD whaackCK shSHshew shew said the strange weaponry impacting on the S.A.B.E.R. Helicarrier’s hull.

“I thought Voss liked us!” said Nalenne.

Jaesa looked up from the secondary nav console and made a prim little hm noise. “They might have found out about that time we hunted down and assassinated the Jedi envoy, then spent several weeks sabotaging Republic efforts with no regard for Voss life before twisting the truth on the greatest historical discovery of our time for the sole purpose of making the Jedi look bad.”

“Or maybe they just caught a few words out of the other side of Darth Serevin’s mouth,” said Vette. “We weren’t the only Imperial jerks on Voss.”

“Their weaponry is impressive,” said Broonmark. “We envy their power and precision.”

“This isn’t fair!” said Nalenne. “We parted in friendship!”

“I think you parted from the invisible dead guy in friendship, milord,” said Pierce, cutting another sharply angled maneuver and snarling as the ship got another glancing hit anyway. “You parted from Voss-Ka at large with a certain ‘We haven’t decided whether we hate you yet.’”

“Looks like they made up their minds,” said Vette.

Broonmark activated his vibroblade, which on the crowded and violently shaking bridge drew more than one anguished stare. “We do not wish to die without a weapon in our hands.”

sccccrack. Another impact tore something off. The something scraped down the length of the ship before falling away.

“After all this time, lieutenant, you still pilot like a drunken gundark,” said ghost-Quinn.

“Funny, because I don’t see you stepping in. Jaesa, hyperspace route?”

The girl nodded. “Just now. Hit it.”

Most of the S.A.B.E.R. Helicarrier streaked into hyperspace.


Nalenne set her fists on her hips and yelled at the holo. “I want to speak to your manager.”

“Y-yes, my lord,” said the unfortunate receptionist at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He brought a lean Zabrak into the holocall and cut himself out.

The Zabrak bowed. “My lord,” he said. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Why did Voss try to shoot me out of the sky?”

“We have a travel advisory set on Voss, my lord….”

“I’m the Emperor’s Wrath!”

“They’re not on speaking terms with anything Imperial or Sith.”

“No one opens fire on the Emperor’s Wrath and lives! We’re going back there! We’re punching their stupid Mystics in the face! We’re tearing those stupid ion cannons apart piece by piece, killing their precious Three, building a replica of the Citadel on the rubble of their dumb Tower, putting their people in chains, and – what?” Quinn had been waving off to one side. He raised a hand and pointed to his wedding ring. “Right, and doing some personal investigation about my wedding venue. Possibly before we punch the Mystics.”

“My lord…Darth Serevin never told you what happened to the first Imperial invasion force.”

“He told me enough. He told me…actually, nothing. At all. He just said it would not be practical to try that again.”

The Zabrak nodded. “In short, nothing lands on that planet that the Voss do not want to land. No ship. No fleet. And Voss has ejected both Republic and Imperial envoys for the time being. We do not know why.”

“Well, find out,” snapped Nalenne. “You have no idea how important this is.”

He sighed resignedly. “With the Sith, my lord, I never do. If the situation changes, you will be notified.”

Nalenne nodded, sour-faced, and cut the holo.

Quinn cleared his throat. “I feel I should remind you, my lord, that I wanted to get married on Dromund Kaas.”

“Shut up.”
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bright_ephemera's Avatar

06.18.2012 , 10:47 AM | #74
38. In which Nalenne encounters a Gree representative

An experienced bargainer knows
When to ease up and when to oppose.
The wrong move tempts fates,
Which just demonstrates
That diplomacy's best left to pros.

“What’s the holdup?”

Nalenne had been walking down the main thoroughfare of Kaas City, right alongside Pierce, until she wasn’t. A small crowd was gathered around something or other, which, as Pierce helpfully cleared a path, turned out to be an Imperial officer – major, by the looks of him – standing next to a shiny yellow protocol droid.

“Well, that’s just yellow parallel,” the protocol droid was saying. He was standing before a big open panel in the wall, staring at a complex mess of wires and pipes. “That’s just yellow, yellow parallel.”

“Is there a reason traffic is stopped here?” said Nalenne.

The major boggled for a fraction of a second before snapping to attention. “My lord! Not much of a problem, no. Tiny, really. Just some Gree droid demanding attention.”

The protocol droid looked at Nalenne. “Greetings. I am Kona-K of the Gree. We have come to arrest the yellow-shifting of the power works.”

“I don’t see anybody around here worth arresting,” said Nalenne, looking around.

“Gree know when blue acute must be introduced. Our black sphere will progress quickly if we gain white-team-cooperation.”

“Is, uh, is that so?”

“Yes. Can you assist us?”

“Maybe. Should I want to?”

“This is left to you. We must request that green bisector be removed before blue convex evolves to yellow.”

“Say that again?”

“We must request that green bisector be removed before blue convex evolves to yellow.”

Nalenne sighed. “Say that again, comprehensibly?”

“I see that your understanding remains white-shifted. Your cloth-lightning-young ones interrupt us at our maintenance. This green bisection must stop.”

“The Sith acolytes have been screwing with you?”

“I believe you comprehend our meaning.”

“So you came all the way from, uh, Gree, to yell at our acolytes?”

“We knew it was time for maintenance. Even a purple parallel must sometimes touch a blue acute.”

“We didn’t even invite this guy, did we?” Nalenne asked the officer.

“No, my lord. This apparatus isn’t even theirs,” said the major. “Our boys took it over decades ago and have been maintaining it. We have no idea what the Gree want with it now.”

“So there isn’t a problem with it?”

“Not from our end.”

Pierce cleared his throat. “That presents some possibilities for resolving this, milord, that don’t involve translatin’ that rot.”


Pierce grinned. “They say there are two universal languages,” he said, clicking his blaster rifle into readiness. “And I don’t speak math.”

Kona-K threw his arms up when Pierce aimed. “Ochre nonagon! Ochre nonagon take you all!” he squealed, and then whatever he was saying was drowned out by the glorious roar of high-speed blaster fire.

The assembled crowd cheered as Kona-K lurched and fell over. Pierce raised his rifle, theatrically blew imaginary smoke from the barrel, and relaxed.

The major was staring at the equipment panel, which had developed a number of scorch marks.

“We’re all set here now, right, major?” said Nalenne.

“I’m not sure.” The major ran his hand over the nearest blaster hole. “This. This little part here.”

“Doesn’t look bad. Should be an easy fix.”

“Actually, my lord, that apparatus in the middle dates from the original installation. We have no idea how it works, and judging by the amount of smoke it’s still emitting, it’s probably damaged beyond our ability to figure out.”

“Was it important?”

“Rather central to the whole thing.”

“Can we, um…how do we fix it?”

The major hung his head and covered his face with one hand. “We call in the Gree.”
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bright_ephemera's Avatar

06.18.2012 , 06:29 PM | #75
39. In which Jaesa bothers Nalenne about Quinn

A creature of thought and of action
Can offer a certain attraction.
To plan what to do
And then carry it through,
If it’s smart, invites pleasant reaction.

Nalenne slipped onto the bridge, as a matter of habit, to check on ghost-Quinn. He had his back to the entryway, as usual. She could see his face reflected in one of the console panels.

He was leaning over the console, murmuring curt orders to 2V as the screen scrolled and he put together the information streaming by. Perfect concentration. Nalenne was surprised when Jaesa appeared at her elbow, but the girl stayed quiet. Nalenne looked back at Quinn and couldn’t help but smile. “He’s really sexy when he does that,” she whispered to Jaesa.

“And he likes it when you go all unstoppable-Wrath like you did out there today. He likes it a lot.”

Nalenne felt herself blush a little. “Really?”

“He would never admit it, but I can tell. The way he looks at you. It’s just like it used to be.”

Sanity hit Nalenne’s brain hard. “Oh. Right, yeah, that reminds me, I was just thinking about a change of subject.” She pushed away from the wall and started hurrying toward her quarters.

Jaesa kept up. “Have you talked about this? With anybody?”

“About what? Subject changes? All the time. I’m coming up with a new one any minute now.”

“No. You and Quinn. Your marriage. The betrayal. What’s between the two of you now. Any of it.”

Nalenne thought of a good not-talking-to-Jaesa activity and changed directions to make for the cargo hold. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the yelling.”

“You both throw blame, loudly, yes. I have yet to hear a single attempt at understanding or admitting what we can see when your guard is down or, or even feeling anything but anger.”

“You are incredibly far out of line, Jaesa.”

“You won’t tell anybody where the line is!”

“Well, it comes before telling me to talk about how I feel about the captain, that’s for sure!” Nalenne waved when she saw Broonmark emerging from the cargo hold. “Hey, Broonmark.” She Force-tweaked her vocal cords and dropped into Talz, using the word Broonmark had taught her for ‘Talz lessons.’ “Killing?"(*)

“Sith clan hippie bothers?”

Not quite relevant to a Talz lesson, but okay. “Yes.”

Broonmark hesitated. He looked at Jaesa and blinked one eye pair, then the other. “Wow,” he blorped, and drew his vibrosword, and sprung.

Nalenne panicked. “Not that killing!” she screeched. She Forced pushed Broonmark into the nearest wall and then walked over to outline the shape of the translator datapad where he could see. “Killing killing.”

“Oh,” blipped Broonmark in a disappointed tone.

Quinn came through the wall at what appeared to be a quickly-arrested sprint. His rapid scan of the room ended with a hard look at Broonmark. “My lord. I heard a struggle. Are you all right?”

“Everything’s fine, captain,” said Nalenne, meeting Jaesa’s puppy eyes straight on. “Nothing going on worth talking about. Return to your post.”

He nodded, respectfully, and headed back to the bridge.

“Master,” prompted Jaesa.

“What’s Talz for ‘nosy harridan’?” Nalenne asked Broonmark.

“Sith clan hippie,” repeated Broonmark. Funny, how much Talz vocabulary did double duty. Broonmark waved the still-activated vibrosword and watched the Jedi.

“Fine, master, I’m leaving,” said Jaesa. “For now.”
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bright_ephemera's Avatar

06.19.2012 , 05:22 AM | #76
40. In which Nalenne witnesses a Republic operation

Spoilers for a Trooper’s Act 2 M1-4X companion quest.

A robot from old Nar Shaddaa
Held Republic ideals as law.
If Imperials dare
Show their face - M1's there!
Eat missiles! For freedom! Huzzah!

“Hey. Vette. How do I look?”

Nalenne twirled to show Vette her outfit, a segmented and fitted suit of black armor with a good threatening cape and a gaping (or, technically, swelling) chest cutout that marked it as purely social ‘armor.’

“On the raging-evil scale, I give you a ten. What’s the occasion?”

“Meeting a bigwig on Nar Shaddaa. The Ambassador. He’s a big recruiter for the Empire, diplomatic type. He’s invited the Wrath and any interested staff to talk strategy over dinner.”

“And you’re even faintly interested in this?”

“Quinn wants to go. Plus the dinner’s at the Star Cluster.”

“The place that snagged that exclusive contract with Gormon the Hutt for production of that really wacky blue vodka?”

“The very same.”

“Consider me 'interested staff.'”

And so Nalenne, Quinn, and Vette went to visit the glittering Star Cluster Casino on Nar Shaddaa.

A slave met them at the door to escort them up to the penthouse, where, under heavy guard, the Ambassador, wearing an enormously tall hat, was working on something or other.

He rose to greet the party warmly and sat with them to dinner. After Nalenne and he had exchanged about three words, Quinn jumped in with some policy question based on a propaganda speech the Ambassador had delivered the previous week two star systems over. Nalenne chatted quietly with Vette about the food…and the vodka, of course.

Two delicious courses, while the men exchanged impassioned yet somehow completely boring opinions. Nalenne tuned in briefly as Quinn stood beside her and gestured energetically: “The difficulty is in targeting a cultural message on these highly fragmented planets. Courting the high-value populations – the Hutts, the Annihilator network, the confectioners’ guild – must be handled carefully, lest their many scattered opponents unite against our message.”

“I’m sorry,” said the Ambassador. “The confectioners’ guild?”

“It doesn’t sound like much, but threaten their supply chain and you’ll find they are among the most brutal and cunning warriors in the galaxy, as we learned to our detriment in the last war. They would make invaluable allies.”

“This is really good,” mouthed Nalenne at Vette, pointing to the vichyssoise.

“I repeat, so is this,” whispered Vette, sipping more vodka.

A thump resounded on the door. Then another, then seemingly two at once, and then the metal door shattered, giving way to a massive three-legged battle droid. “Ambassador! Your lying days are at an end!” announced the machine.

A breathless pause. Then: “Havoc Squad,” spat Quinn, in a tone he usually reserved for deserters and men with nonregulation haircuts.

“None of that,” said Nalenne. She brought out her saber and jumped to intercept.

The droid tilted and headbutted her. “You will not stop the cause of freedom, Sith!”

She staggered back, but recovered. “Yes, I will,” she assured him, swinging to block his blaster fire and start hacking at him.

“I think not!” The robot skittered to one side, flung a couple of guards away, then made for the Ambassador at a dead sprint. “You’re under arrest, Ambassador, and you’re coming with me to face Republic justice!”

Nalenne stood stunned. “Wait, why is he the high-value target here?”

Without slowing for a moment, the robot scooped up a shocked-looking Ambassador, sending his big hat flying…and then made straight for the window. “For freedom!”

“Are you insane?” she yelled, rushing to get in an already-too-late blow on the robot’s trailing leg. Then it was gone.

But hey, if that stupid droid could jump, so could she.

She flung herself out into the warm murk of a Nar Shaddaa evening. The droid was already some meters below her, and when he saw her falling he did some truly interesting self-folding in an effort to streamline himself. Her cape wasn’t helping her cause. She kept her saber ready; she didn’t want a delay when she landed.

There was a great deal of nothing to land on beneath them.

They were coming up on a traffic lane. The droid slammed into a heap of junk on a passing garbage scow…that streaked off before Nalenne got close. She herself angled slightly to hit a sleek-looking red speeder.

She came down on the hood with enough force to knock out her breath and possibly several of her bones. That hurt more than expected. If the droid is still functioning after a fall like this I will not be happy.

Somebody was screaming a lot. Oh, probably the speeder’s driver. With an effort Nalenne raised her head – ooh, dizzy – and looked at the Devaronian behind the controls. “Keep driving or I will kill you,” she warned. Oh, but no way was she going to face a combat droid in this shape. “Just run me to Mezenti Spaceport.”

The skylane winds carried a distant cry: “For the Republic!”

Nalenne let her head fall. This, she thought, was why she tried to avoid networking dinners.
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bright_ephemera's Avatar

06.19.2012 , 08:58 AM | #77
41. In which Nalenne and Quinn have a serious talk

If you’re an Imperial son,
Two faces are better than one.
Lie and connive
To simply survive…
Just try not to think what you’ve done.

Nar Shaddaa. Smoke, noise, and neon lights, everyone going a mile a minute; self-contained worlds leaping from the murk thirty stories below to flashing glittering heights thirty stories up, monuments to every imaginable pleasure.

Nalenne, being fresh out of the inclination for pleasures at the moment, settled on the edge of a mid-level rooftop and looked up at the brilliant streaks of the upper skylane traffic.

Quinn’s voice sounded without so much as a warning footstep first. “My lord. Permission to speak?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said absently.


At the sound of her name she turned around to face him. He was neat as ever in his unchanging uniform, seemingly anxious now, though the shifting multicolored lights around them could throw any false expression onto a face. “What is it?” she asked.

“It seems you won’t answer this until I corner you. So here we are.” He settled in that formal parade rest, hands folded behind him. “Why?”

Nalenne blinked. “The guy who sprung an assassination trap on me wants to ask me why deadly force came into play?”

“You know why I was there. I had a duty, a responsibility to my cause and the champion of that cause. But I can’t explain you. You’re bloodthirsty, yes, unstable, yes, but you would do anything for the people you love, and even for people you merely sense potential in. You’ve spared Niselle, Jaesa, Broonmark. You would forgive Vette or Pierce in a heartbeat.”

“’Forgive’ is such a strong word.”

“Why them and not me?”

Something clicked into place. “You were counting on me making a kissy face and welcoming you right back, weren’t you? You were planning on it, if you lost. You scheming weasel. That’s why you’ve been so mad at me all this time.”

“That’s not an answer.” He sounded annoyed.

“Did you even have a plan A? Did you actually have any intention of killing me?”

“Yes. I had no choice.” He relaxed his pose and raised one hand to stroke his chin. “But you’re on to something. You’ve finally worked out the start of my contingency plan, in case I failed. Go on.”

She considered. “If you were counting on love, you must have considered it an exploitable weakness. Advantages: It kept me from killing you, and it kept you close to me. It was a huge blind spot in my defenses. Furthermore, if you really intended to kill me, then screwing up one attempt wouldn’t change that intent – you never give up, not while you have resources or raw will left to throw at the problem.” She stood up and paced. “So…if your trap failed, you figured I would welcome you back. You would wait for another chance to finish the job. You would do it. That’s why you needed me alone, too. Even apart from your odds in combat, you can’t recover a loss if my friends, who don’t share my weakness, intervene with deadly force.”

“Excellent,” he said. “Perfect. I had despaired of teaching you anything, but you do learn, eventually.”

“I was listening, Quinn. I was, all that time we were together. It’s just that smashing the problem has a 100% success rate, so why would I ever have to think like you?” Her higher brain, having lumbered into motion, kept going. “So basically forgiveness would’ve been fatal and you’ve been guilt-tripping me all this time for taking the only course of action that would have stopped you from murdering me.”

Quinn returned to a cool flat tone. “Ah. That is…a very coarse way of stating it, my lord.”

She crossed her arms. “Plans within plans to kill me. I was justified.”

“It still hurt.”

“When exactly did you go from ‘kill kill kill’ to ‘guilt guilt guilt’, anyway? You’re not still secretly on ‘kill kill kill’, are you?”

“No, my lord. You won. Baras lost. Your way is the Empire’s future. Therefore I am with you.”

Nalenne made a face at him. “Also you’re stuck in a hellish limbo within a limited physical range of me. Therefore you’re with me.”

He gestured impatiently. “The two conditions happen to coincide. That wasn’t the point. I don’t have to hurt you now, not anymore – and, impossible though you are, I wouldn’t want to. I just want to know….” Uncharacteristically, he had to take a moment to collect himself. “Nalenne, I want to know why.”

“Since ‘self-defense’ doesn’t satisfy your twisted analysis? It really, really bothers you that you didn’t see this coming, doesn’t it? Well, fine.” He had his motivations. She had hers. “You recall I was still stiff from a sprained ankle that day, and not happy about it.”

“Er, yes.”

"And you knew I was still puking from the aftereffects of that Voss spirit guy's body-snatching trick."

"Yes, I suppose, but - "

"And then the coffee maker and the freezer simultaneously broke the night before, leaving me without tasty beverages or worthwhile desserts?"

"I don't see how this - "

Nalenne stamped her foot. “If you were counting on my mercy, why the blazes did you spring that when you knew I was having such a crappy day? Honestly, am I the kind of woman who could hold my temper through such an unholy heap of annoyances just because amor’s supposed to vincit omnia?"

Quinn eventually managed to pick his jaw up off the floor. "I thought I rated slightly above 'boo hoo I had to settle for orange juice this morning'!"

"Well then, you miscalculated, didn't you?"

"The idea that you killed your husband because of dietary inconvenience is obscene!"

"Serves you right for timing the attempted murder of your wife so badly!"

"In the future perhaps you could recommend a better time for my being forced to hurt you?"

"Let me think about that: NO. I may be petty but I'm not stupid, darling."

They abruptly thought of interesting things to study off to opposite sides.

"Quinn. Petty but not stupid, Quinn."

"At least tell me you regret it."

"Occasionally," she said. "Maybe. When you're not acting like a jerk. If you’re stuck here either way, I wish I could undo the killing part. Our relationship doesn’t work too well without the anger sex.”

“I tend to agree.”

“But you really should’ve known better.”

They stood at the edge of the roof for a while, watching the incandescent rush of ten thousand unconnected lives.

In time, Nalenne spoke again. “And now I’m trying to get rid of you. Was there ever a time neither one of us was actively planning on destroying the other?”

“There was the brief interlude when you thought I was permanently dead. Otherwise, no.”

“Huh. Y’know, I worried about marrying a non-Sith, but you really did get the basics right.”

“Yes.” He let a few moments pass in a silence that was, if not friendly, at least not hostile. “It’s a shame you brought the rest of it to this miserable state.”



“Stop talking.”
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06.19.2012 , 02:42 PM | #78
42. In which Nalenne catches Quinn conspiring

Our comms may inform and amuse,
Correspondents may gladly enthuse.
But behind that bright glow,
The cynical know
that the holo is rarely good news.

Nalenne woke up early and ravenous. She pulled on her dressing gown and headed out to the mess by way of the holo room.

The holo was active, and Quinn was there, standing before Servants One and Two.

Rage rarely swelled this high this fast. “Quinn! What happened to ‘I will be no one’s spy this time’?” she demanded.

He turned to face her. She raised her hand and tried to apply a Force choke.

She felt nothing in her mind’s grip, and Quinn was not physically affected. Only his eyes changed. Yeah, you remember what this felt like. Jack***.

“Release him,” said Servant One.

Nalenne dropped her effort and turned to the holo. “Five seconds. Explain. Or I will destroy you.”

Servant One looked meaningfully at ghost-Quinn. “Truly, I’m trembling,” he said dryly.

“My lord,” said Quinn, “all they do is give me the strategic guidance for our work. Since you are less than willing to take direction from them yourself.”

“The captain has more than septupled the Wrath’s productivity,” intoned Servant Two.

Not enough to wipe the thought of Quinn reporting to Baras. “There’s more. What have you been doing behind my back?”

“Only what is necessary,” said Servant One, “for you to actually earn that stipend of yours.”

“And you couldn’t have done this in front of my back?”

“You’re impossible to manage,” said Servant One. “You’re infinitely more docile when the orders come from the captain.”

“I’m not certain ‘docile’ is the most accurate term,” said Quinn.

“Comparatively speaking,” said Servant One, “it really is.”

“The Wrath if left to her own devices would be a worthless layabout and disgraceful drain on society,” said Servant Two.

“The Wrath is not amused!” said Nalenne. “This will stop!”

Servants One and Two exchanged looks. “Do you really want to be the one doing the weekly discussions of the optimal strategic stress points in the coreward Ilum sector?” said Servant One.

Nalenne looked at Quinn. He shrugged, ever so slightly, with a bland innocent look on his face.

“The complete and utter boring-ness of the work isn’t the part that matters,” she said. “This kind of stunt is practically calculated to piss me off.”

“I still serve you,” he said quietly.

“The Wrath pretty much hates you right now,” announced Servant Two.

“Would you stop stating the obvious?” said Nalenne.

“You may cooperate today, Wrath,” said Servant One. “But if we call again next week you will defy us. Quinn is a considerably more stable conduit for the Emperor’s will.”

“He’s supposed to be my conduit! Get your own!”

“You’ve been enjoying the work, have you not, my lord?” said Quinn.

She eyed him cautiously. “I suppose.”

“Then trust me to keep directing your efforts where you can do the most good for the Empire.”

“You’ll understand if I never accept ‘Trust me’ out of your mouth again.”

“Optimal stress points in strategically critical systems,” Servant One reminded her. “Mind-bogglingly boring conversations.”

“You’re really just saving me from the mission planning?”

“I promise, my lord.”

“Fine, then. Have your chats. But I’ll kill you all if you gang up on me.”

“You’re planning to kill me anyway, my lord.”

“Keep your logic to yourself! I hate you, I hate your secret making-me-do-work conspiracy, and you will BEHAVE YOURSELF OR I WILL MAKE YOUR UNLIFE HELL.”

“And you wonder why we don’t want to talk to you,” said Servant One.
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06.19.2012 , 07:45 PM | #79
43. In which Jaesa’s extracurriculars draw scrutiny

The Jedi, as any can see,
Must feed all their knights and trainees.
Though all keep their eye
On what money can’t buy,
They’ll still take donations (tax-free!).

“My lord.”

“What do you want, Quinn?”

“Are you aware that the Jedi enclave on Alderaan has an active petition to be renamed after Nomen Karr?”

“Uh, why?”

“It seems one Nomen Karr has donated well over a million credits to its supply and upkeep. The vast majority of these credits can be traced to your account.”

Nalenne flushed. “Jaesa.”


“You told me a hundred times you didn’t care about which charity I donated to, master. Just as long as I wasn’t using my special power on behalf of the Jedi.”

“I thought you were rescuing orphans and feeding puppies! I find that whole business revolting, but at least it would’ve kept you clear of the war.”

“The Alderaanian enclave is clear of the war.”

“Apart from all the Jedi who train there and then go out to kill my friends!”

“Your evil Sith rivals, you mean. You should be thanking me.”

“Are we or are we not going to execute her, my lord?” Quinn said impatiently.

“I’m still ranting here, captain.”

“Of course.” He bowed and backed off.

“Jaesa, no more funding the Republic war effort or the Jedi with my money.”

“You never scrutinize Vette this closely. And she gets a bigger allowance.”

“Vette isn’t on an explicit mission to undo everything I am and stand for. Plus she’s better at guilt tripping me and she isn’t in bed with my mortal enemies.”

“Master! Even in jest, I’m not in bed with anybody! Except you on holovid nights.”

“Well maybe the not-in-bed is your problem. I should foist Niselle’s next handsome-Sith recommendation off on you.”

Jaesa’s eyes went round. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t convince me you need to be distracted.”

Jaesa bit her lip. “Captain Quinn, I know you like reporting this kind of thing, but I must request that you stop sabotaging – “

“Your treason?” said Quinn coolly.

“It’s not treason. I’m not even Imperial.”

“Ah, my mistake. Your act of war.”

Nalenne rolled her eyes. “Quinn, we all know you’re only saying that because you’re jealous of Jaesa’s and my relationship.”

“I’m saying it because she funneled over a million credits directly to the Jedi!”

“Jealous. You’re far from an impartial observer.”

“I’m not the one failing at impartiality, my lord.”

“Hey,” said Nalenne. “I’m not executing anybody for acts of war. I’ve learned my lesson there.” Quinn glowered. Nalenne continued. “Tell you what, Jaesa. I’ll go level the enclave, and then you don’t have to worry about sending them money or renaming it or anything. Also I’m cutting your allowance.”

“Master,” pleaded an anguished Jaesa.

“Jaesa, I love you.” Neither woman noticed the muscle near Quinn’s eye twitching at that. “But evil comes first. And – look, I wasn’t going to mention it, but the Alderaanian enclave was on my to-do list anyway. Really, Servant One brought it up last time we talked. Your friends were already doomed.”

Jaesa’s lower lip quivered. “I understand,” she said quietly, and ran to her quarters.

Quinn regarded Nalenne with that deceptively neutral expression of his. “My lord, Servant One has never said anything of the sort.”

“I was being tactful, Quinn. Have 2V block all outgoing transmissions ‘til we reach Alderaan, would you?”

Something approaching approval crept across his face. “That was very nearly subtle. It will be done.” And, with characteristic efficiency, he went straight for the bridge by way of the nearest wall.
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Ayanka's Avatar

06.20.2012 , 02:51 AM | #80
It's quite frustrating Quinn can not be hurt... I'd also want to choke him for his 'conspiration' with the hand. Oh, and I really would love to kill this arrogant Servant One - docile, phew! We are warriors, not dogs!
Wer in der Nacht in den verstaubten Winkeln seines Geistes träumt,
erwacht am Tag und findet nichts als Leere;
aber die Träumer des Tages sind gefährliche Menschen,
denn sie können ihren Traum mit offenen Augen spielen und ihn möglich machen.