TIMELINE -1, up to July 9 ATC and the beginning of the game timeline

includes the correspondence between COLRAN NIRAL and DOLARRA REYNE, ~13 BTC to 5 BTC

exclusive to the Short Fic Challenge thread: 14 BTC: Infection: Colran meets Dolarra

exclusive to standalone Light from Dromund Kaas: 14 BTC: Colran considers his career

exclusive to the Short Fic Challenge thread: 14 BTC: Colran's homecoming

11 BTC, Dolarra to Colran (embedded in timeline 2.5 story Letters 1)

11 BTC, Colran to Dolarra (embedded in timeline 3 story Second Chances)

5 BTC, Colran to Dolarra (second to last in the archive)

5 BTC, Dolarra to Colran (last in the archive)

exclusive to the Short Fic challenge thread: 5 BTC: Communication Breakdown (Dolarra's death)

TIMELINE 1, July of 9 ATC to June of 11 ATC, in-game Korriban to just after Voss

exclusive to the Short Fic challenge thread: November, 9 ATC: Canned Responses with Vette

x-post from the Short Fic challenge: January, 10 ATC: Odd Jobs (Wynston)

February, 10 ATC: A Standing Offer of Assistance

February, 10 ATC: A Chiss, a Rattataki, a Twi'lek, and a Sith walk into a cantina

March, 10 ATC: The Enemy Within, Ruth vs. Ruth

exclusive to the Short Fic challenge thread: March, 10 ATC: Culture Shock with Kaliyo Djannis (Wynston)

x-post adapted from the Short Fic challenge: April, 10 ATC: Allies on Alderaan

June, 10 ATC: Homecoming

June, 10 ATC: Sowing mercy

July, 10 ATC: The Padawan

exclusive to the Short Fic challenge thread: August, 10 ATC: What's in a Name? (Ruth with Wynston)

September, 10 ATC: Rejection 1

September, 10 ATC: Meet the Heavy

x-post from the Short Fic challenge: September, 10 ATC: Fangirl

September, 10 ATC: Mixed Signals

October, 10 ATC: Peace, love, and keeping your head down

x-post adapted from the Short Fic challenge: October, 10 ATC: That's what friends are for

October, 10 ATC: Permission granted

exclusive to the Short Fic challenge thread: October, 10 ATC: Canned Responses with Lieutenant Pierce

October, 10 ATC: Discouragement

October, 10 ATC: Warming Up

exclusive to the Short Fic challenge thread: October, 10 ATC: What's in a Name? (Ruth with Quinn)

exclusive to the Short Fic challenge thread: January, 11 ATC: Catching Up, featuring Kaliyo Djannis (Wynston)

April, 11 ATC: A change in terms

April, 11 ATC: Swearing Commitment

May-June, 11 ATC: Skimming through Voss

exclusive to the Short Fic challenge thread: June, 11 ATC: Rites of Passage (Wynston)

June, 11 ATC: Falling apart

TIMELINE 2, June of 11 ATC to August of 26 ATC, Quinn's betrayal, endgame, and fifteen years of separation

June, 11 ATC: Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turn'd, Quinn vs. Ruth

June, 11 ATC: Homewrecking

July, 11 ATC: Ruth lectures about mercy

July, 11 ATC: Fellow Failures

exclusive to the Short Fic challenge thread: July, 11 ATC: Allies

July, 11 ATC: Victory

x-post from the Short Fic challenge: July, 11 ATC: Rejection 2

August, 11 ATC: Missed Opportunity

exclusive to the Short Fic challenge thread: September, 11 ATC: What's in a Name?

December, 11 ATC: War, hatred, and cracking heads

January, 12 ATC: It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you (Wynston)

x-post from the Short Fic challenge: March, 15 ATC: Ain't Teamwork Grand, Jungle edition (Wynston)

June, 16 ATC: Permission almost fully withdrawn

x-post from the Short Fic challenge: September, 16 ATC: I'm not done lecturing you (Quinn)

exclusive to the Short Fic challenge thread: December, 16 ATC: Celebrations, starring Vette

TIMELINE 2.5, August of 26 ATC to June 27 ATC, relationship drama

x-post from the Short Fic challenge: August, 26 ATC: Meeting again

August, 26 ATC: Dinner

x-post from the Short Fic challenge: September, 26 ATC: School

x-post from the Short Fic challenge: December, 26 ATC: Falling together

x-post from the Short Fic challenge: December, 26 ATC: One step forward, one step back

x-post from the Short Fic challenge: April, 27 ATC: Letters 1

x-post from the Short Fic challenge: May, 27 ATC: Letters 2

x-post from the Short Fic challenge: June, 27 ATC: Letters 3

June, 27 ATC: Sometimes love is a decision

TIMELINE 3, July of 27 ATC to July of 28 ATC, relearning heroism

September, 27 ATC: A gift for Quinn

November, 27 ATC: Meeting with the Boss

January, 28 ATC: A Sith, a Jedi, and a Chiss walk into a safe house

February, 28 ATC: A gentleman's education, Rylon vs. Ruth

February, 28 ATC: Second Chances

February, 28 ATC: Homemaking

March, 28 ATC: Ruth is lectured about mercy

March, 28 ATC: Neglected Correspondence

April, 28 ATC: And now for something completely different

April, 28 ATC: Support Personnel

April, 28 ATC: I had your job once

April, 28 ATC: The team expands

April, 28 ATC: The Moment of Falsehood

May, 28 ATC: Permission impossible to deny

May, 28 ATC: Take It Outside

May, 28 ATC: Reintroduction

May, 28 ATC: Testing

May, 28 ATC: Companions and conversations

June, 28 ATC: Prep work

June, 28 ATC: Falling into place

June, 28 ATC: Huddle

July, 28 ATC: Protection, 1

July, 28 ATC: Protection, 2

July, 28 ATC: Protection, 3

July, 28 ATC: Protection, 4

July, 28 ATC: Denouement

February, 10 ATC - 1.5 years before the confirmation of the Wrath

“My lord.” Day two of having the fanatic from Balmorra on her ship, and Ruth already knew what was going to break her sanity by the time this operation was over. She looked up from her breakfast to see Quinn standing, straight and tense, by the mess door. “When you have the time, I ask permission to confer with you about my role on the ship – and under your command.”

“Good idea. Please, meet me in the conference room in five minutes.” And don’t say –

“My lord.” He bowed and left.

She finished up and made a quick attempt to straighten her hair with her fingers. Into the conference room, where the officer was standing like he was auditioning to be a statue.

“Lieutenant. Captain?” She wasn’t sure of the paperwork status.

“Lieutenant at present, my lord.”

“Have a seat.” He hesitated. “Please.”

“As you wish, my lord.” He sat stiffly on the edge of the nearest chair.

Ruth moved to sit across from him. “You can address me as Ruth, you know. I’d prefer it.”

“I wouldn’t presume to such familiarity, my lord.”

“Suit yourself. Now, then. You’re my first formal subordinate. How can I use you?” Apart from the rather distractingly obvious, and wholly unwelcome judging by every indication he had given thus far.

“My lord, I have an education from the Imperial officers’ Academy on Dromund Kaas and eleven years of field experience.” Oh hello that would make him more than a decade her senior. “I’ve seen action during the war against the Republic and in multiple operations against the Balmorran resistance. I’m a top-notch pilot, military strategist, combat medic, and a deadly shot.”

“As well as being familiar with surveillance technologies, comm systems, and – to some degree, based on what you handed me and handled remotely – demolitions.”

He nodded without a trace of self-consciousness. “I can fly this ship, plan your battles, assess your enemies, and kill them. You won’t find a more tireless and loyal subject.”

“Of that I have no doubt. What you’re saying is, I can place you in any support or combat capacity and you’ll have both the training and experience for it.”

“That is a broad statement, my lord, but I believe I can live up to it.”

“You say you’ve been in the field. You impressed me with your support work; are you really willing to come into the line of fire?”

“It has been some time since I served in that capacity.” His eyes sparked. “I look forward to it.”

Ah. Under the insane surface, the man was completely insane. She was faintly disturbed to find that that didn’t make him any less attractive. “I look forward to seeing what you can do. – A medic? Really?” Quinn nodded. “What luxury.” She stood up, took a few steps to work off some nervous energy. “I’m going to be quite frank, Lieutenant. My field experience is limited. I learned tactics in the out-of-the-way corners of the Sith Academy, and apart from Vette I’ve never had a partner or a team. I don’t apologize for any of it. But if you’ve functioned in an active unit before, I’m counting on you for your counsel and your discretion. You’ve demonstrated at least a subset of your skill, and I respect it. Don’t hesitate to show me what you’ve got.”

“Of course, my lord. I will do my utmost to apply my talents to your mission. And to advise you as necessary.”

Damn, it was impossible to read that face. Had she just lost respect? Gained it? Marked herself for a tragic friendly fire incident?

No way to tell just now. “One more thing. You’re really here for the Empire? To serve her, to extend her influence?”

“I live for nothing else, my lord.”

Useful, useful, and patriotic to boot. “I think we’re going to get along. Come on, there’s work to do.”

November, 27 ATC - 16 years after the confirmation of the Wrath

The Emperor’s fortress orbited a small star well outside the galaxy’s outer arm. The vessel was all black metal and white light that managed to hurt the eyes without illuminating anything.

Ruth’s visits here were rare, which was fine by her. When she was in his stronghold, she felt less like a protector of the Empire and more like…darkness. Even in her worst moods she didn’t care for these depths of the Dark Side. But she had been summoned, and so she came.

The Emperor sat on his great black throne and blinked at her with red eyes. “Wrath,” he said simply.

She knelt. “Master.”

“How are you?” he asked mockingly. He worked to answer his own question by thrusting his presence into her mind. It slid over her thoughts, oily and cold. It sampled her memory here and there, rushing to cover the warmth of emotion that was Quinn’s return to her life. The feel of the Emperor’s vileness touching that part of her memory sickened her.

He laughed, an eerie thin sound. “I see. He is…suitable.”

The scan continued, bringing as it always did a sense of shame for something she couldn’t identify alongside anger for the intrusion. Finally the Emperor’s presence withdrew.

He described her assignment and she hurried out. He summoned her only rarely: once per year, maybe, sometimes less, and only for the big jobs, the jobs that mattered. She could carry them out, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed the briefings.

She returned to Dromund Kaas and her estate outside Kaas City. When she got in, she was somewhat surprised to find Quinn there.

“Hi,” she said.

“Good evening. The operation tied up early. I thought I would take the chance to steal a couple of days at home before I ship out for the next stage.”

By “steal time at home” he meant “work from the console in the office at home,” but still, it was nice. “Good. I’m glad to see you.”

He kissed her, then gave her an odd look. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“You look a little distant.” He touched her cheek. “Not to say depressed.”

“No, I’m fine. Have you eaten?”

“Not yet. I can get that started.” He brushed past her to get to the kitchen, where he started entering orders for the kitchen droid. She drifted to follow him, and he gave her another troubled look. “May I ask what you were up to today?”

“Working.”

“Difficult kill?”

“No, not at all. I had an audience with the Emperor.”

He seemed impressed. This was, she recalled, the first such meeting she had had since Quinn had come back into her life. “That’s quite an honor. I hope it went well."

“Yes. I have my orders for tomorrow.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“No.”

He poured drinks for both of them and walked with her to the dining room. He set them down and, rather than sitting, wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her again, this time slow, almost seeking. It was nice. She tolerated it until it was over.

He frowned, again. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

“Yes, of course,” she said.

He kept trying to engage in conversation throughout dinner and the evening. It was nice. She tolerated it until it was over. Then she fell asleep beside him, thinking of the mission.

She headed out early the following day. The kill itself was a powerful and influential Jedi, but Ruth had intel on where to find him in transit, and she crushed the man with little trouble. Everything seemed brighter when she got home.

Quinn was in the big office at Ruth’s house, working as per usual. She strolled in and trapped him in his chair, covering him with kisses until he laughed outright and pushed her to stand up. “You’re looking happier today,” he said.

“What’s that mean?” she asked. She didn't recall any particular happiness change.

He looked troubled, for some reason, but the expression passed quickly and he kissed her again. “Good to have you home.”

"Good to be here. Especially with you around."

Wynston

January, 10 ATC - 1.5 years before the confirmation of the Wrath

"Let me get this straight," said the Chiss who called himself Darnek. "Your boss wants me to use this Quell stuff to slowly, painfully poison the rebelling slaves so as to break their spirits and end the uprising. You want me to use more of this Quell agent to just kill them outright so we can clean up the bodies and go home."

"That’s about the shape of it, yeah." The supply sergeant was a surly-looking brute, and yet he still seemed more pleasant than the Sith boss who had first briefed Darnek on the task.

Ah, odd jobs on Dromund Kaas.

Someone came up to stand beside Darnek. Young fair-skinned brunette, interestingly dramatic body armor. Sith.

Which meant her arrival killed any chance of Darnek implementing a merciful plan.

She smiled amiably. "Sorry, gentlemen. Lord Drowl over there was just elaborating the most inhuman scheme to slowly poison this entire work camp to death. I can't seem to talk him out of it. I don’t suppose you have enough Quell to just kill these rebels outright and tell him his dosage nonsense failed?"

Okay, merciful plan might happen.

The sergeant and Darnek exchanged looks. It was the soldier who spoke. "That's fine by me, my lord. I have the stuff here." He started pulling small tanks of yellow liquid from his supply stack.

"Thank you." She started scooping up the Quell bottles and packing them carefully into a backpack. She looked up at Darnek after a moment. "I'm Ruth," she said, politely not verbalizing her obvious curiosity at seeing a Chiss. "You here on the job?"

"Yes, my lord. I'm Darnek. It's an honor." She was pretty. Not visibly touched with Sith corruption. Wide-eyed, cheerful, striking an intentional balance between informality and perfunctory dignity. Either an idiot or dangerous, and she was young enough that idiocy was the probable answer. She wouldn't live long among her own kind. Pity; she seemed pleasant, for a Sith. "Shall we be off?"

*

The less said about the job itself, the better. A labor revolt was a labor revolt, and it had to be put down, but it was still an ugly day's work. Darnek accompanied Ruth back to the foreman’s camp with a minimum of conversation.

Lord Drowl looked up from his console at their approach. "Results are already coming in. They're dying in droves! I must have miscalculated the dosage."

Ruth batted her eyelashes. "Is it really cost-effective to keep playing with this? Is there that much of an advantage compared with just executing examples?"

"Don't tell me how to do my job, apprentice. You probably ruined this one anyway. Get out of my sight." He turned away without another word.

Ruth walked a little ways away before letting out a sigh. "So much for the advice."

"You tried, my lord," Darnek told her. “It was kind of you."

"I do try." She shook her head. But when she looked back up at him she seemed to brighten up a bit. "It was good to work with you, Darnek. Fight well."

Favorably inclined pretty woman? It was worth a shot. "I was just going to return to the city for dinner. Would you care to join me?"

Her face was pure confusion, but she came around soon enough. "I'd like that, yes. Meet you at the Nexus Room, an hour or so?"

"Count on it."

*

Darnek had never seen a Sith in a cocktail dress before, or if he had, he hadn't fully realized what was going on. The silver shimmersilk number Ruth showed up in would have done credit to, well, a beautiful non-Sith. Interestingly, she didn’t seem to have any place to hide a weapon in that fitted silhouette. Tally one more mark under the 'charming idiot' header in her file.

He caught her before she reached the bottom of the Nexus Room Cantina's entrance stairway. "You look stunning," he told her. "Shall we?"

Darnek wouldn't quite say he lived for the hours of eating, drinking, and slowly unwinding a chatty pretty girl. He didn't even live for the dancing and other activities that usually came afterward. But they were all really enjoyable pastimes.

And yet, this was Dromund Kaas, land of the unpleasant things that put him on edge; and so about halfway through her second drink he decided to get it over with. "So I take it you have a thing for Chiss? Or perhaps just aliens in general."

"I…have a – what? Oh!" Wow, her eyes could get big. "No. I don’t think I've even spoken to a Chiss for longer than thirty seconds before."

"That's no obstacle, it's what the holonet is for." He grinned.

The Sith grinned back nervously. "Are you saying I have to have a fetish to find you attractive? Because that's an odd statement."

Interesting. Most Imperial humans who were even slightly receptive to him were...well, suffice it to say that species-blind would be a first in this town. "Maybe I was just angling to get you to call me attractive. I have terribly delicate self-esteem, you know."

"I can tell. I like you, Darnek. Simple as that."

"What, no 'this one will serve well' or 'I think I shall vivisect him for my own amusement'? Are you entirely certain you're Sith?"

"I'm just an apprentice. I'm sure I'll learn."

"Don't."

The corners of her rosebud mouth curved upward. "Now that's a piece of career advice I've never heard before."

"Take it from a humble Force-blind. The world doesn't have enough beautiful, charming, sane Sith."

"Your shamelessness is showing."

"Just calling it like I see it. Let me know if that's a problem."

They went on chatting. She was quite open. As a matter of habit he built up a mental dossier: upbringing, inferred political views, unfamiliar names in a side list because they might come in handy later; Sith sponsors, local contacts, the subset of Darth Baras's priorities that he saw fit to make known to this apprentice (and Darnek hoped for Baras's sake that that was a strictly limited subset, given the apprentice’s talkativeness). It was an easy charming pleasant conversation, but she was dropping information faster than a defector with a gun in his face. She had a certain wit, a startlingly quick grasp of ideas, but she didn't appear to be familiar with the concept of discretion.

More food, more drink, more talk. Later, once dinner had settled, he asked: "Do you dance?"

She cocked her head and looked incredulous. "No."

"Would you like to?"

"Sith don't dance."

"You sure? It's easy with the right partner. I've taught Ithorians to dance, you can't possibly be that much trouble."

"When did you teach an Ithorian to dance?"

Darnek extended a hand. "Come with me and I'll tell you."

The kind of girl who would go for that was the kind of girl Darnek could get along with.

*

From the Nexus Room to the nondescript hotel Intelligence was keeping him in, from there to the inevitable, and damn this girl was pleasant. What she lacked in experience – not that he would say that to a Sith's face – she made up for in being attentive and playful and genuinely enthusiastic. He wondered whether she would be willing to stay overnight.

She answered that question for him when she returned from the refresher and went right for her dress. "I'd better get moving. Worlds to burn, you know how it is."

"I'll call you next time my job takes me this way."

"I'm flattered, but I travel a lot." She smiled unconvincingly. "Maybe we'll run into each other again sometime."

Well, that saved some disentangling effort on his part. "Fair enough. Good to meet you, my lord."

She made a face and threw the nearest available small object at him. That happened to be her underwear. "Ruth," she corrected, in a tone that would've been commanding if he weren't so thoroughly aware of what she was and wasn't wearing at the moment.

"Very good to meet you, Ruth."

That smile was bright and sweet with a strong twist of mischief. "You, too." She set off with a swing in her step. Back out into the den of wolves, into a galaxy full of the kind of trouble that would eat a girl like that alive. Not his problem – they never were – but all the same, he was almost sorry to see her go.

February, 10 ATC - 1.5 years before the confirmation of the Wrath

Ruth was on Nar Shaddaa, tracking a matter for her master Lord Baras. To reach her target she would probably have to go through local heavy Lord Rathari; the man was elusive, but Baras’s agents were coordinating with Imperial Intelligence to pull together the necessary information. Imperial Intelligence happened to assign a Chiss fellow, Darnek, whom Ruth had met briefly but intimately on Dromund Kaas.

She put in a work day that would have to draw Rathari’s attention, even if she couldn’t hit him directly. Once the job was done she let Vette tow her around the Promenade for a while. Quinn trailed, looking pensive.

The garish lights of Nar Shaddaa were entering their artificially orange sunset phase when Vette got around to suggesting dinner.

“Ship, then?” said Ruth.

Vette gave her a Look. “Are you serious? Shining Star lounge. We’re going.”

On a whim Ruth took out her holocommunicator and called Darnek. His image flickered into view.

"Good evening, agent," she said. "I was chatting with some Hutts, picked up some hearsay from the upper industrial sector you might like to know. Also I'm starving. Would you be available for supper at the Shining Star?"

"How much of this is work, my lord?" he said lightly.

"Ninety-five percent work. Promise. My people will be here." She made a face. "Not that I'm not enthralled by their close and exclusive company for weeks on end, but we'd love to see you."

“Hey,” mouthed Vette.

"Count me and my associate in,” said Darnek.

"Absolutely. See you soon!" The call cut off.

“That work for you two?” she asked as she stashed her holo away.

“You’re treating,” Vette informed her.

“And you, Quinn? Dinner? Dancing?”

"My lord." That was definitely his "I'm extremely offended and wish you would stop asking such stupid awful questions" inflection. "I should return to the ship and catch up on some correspondence."

"You do eat, Captain? I hope?"

"Of course, my lord."

"Good." She sighed. "Take care of yourself."

"Likewise, my lord."

*

The casino was less noisy than most local cantinas, but no better lit. Ruth threaded her way among the sabacc tables to a corner booth and leaned against the table, watching the floor. Vette scooted into the booth and flagged down a droid for a drink.

Darnek and a swaggering Rattataki woman entered not long afterward. Introductions all around: Ruth, Vette the "good friend and co-conspirator," Darnek, Kaliyo the "good friend and co-conspirator." They ate and chattered; Ruth got about two minutes in about the information Darnek might find useful before Kaliyo and Vette started exchanging vocal opinions on more facets of pop culture than Ruth knew existed.

At some point the music changed. Kaliyo looked over, made a face, but then shot a look at Vette. "Think it's time we hit the dance floor, you could show me your moves."

"You're on." The Twi'lek bounced to her feet and followed Kaliyo out to the floor.

Ruth found herself alone with the Chiss. “So ordinarily I would make polite inquiries about your line of work,” she said. “But my mother worked for Intelligence – I think – before she died, so I’ve learned I’m not supposed to ask. Right?”

“Quite right, I’m afraid,” he said evenly.

“And casual conversation on politics is right out.”

“Correct.”

“How about the weather?”

Darnek shot a look at the ceiling. “I am not at liberty to comment on any persistent patterns or local irregularities in the weather of Nar Shaddaa, Dromund Kaas, or any of several dozen other systems.”

She laughed…and wondered how much of that was serious. “How about where you’re originally from, can I ask that?”

“Certainly. Rentor. It’s a colony in the Chiss Ascendancy, deep in the Outer Rim beyond Hoth.”

“Long way from the Citadel.”

“The Citadel is much more exciting.”

What, was he willing to give up information on the second date? He had been determined to keep the information flow one-sided during their last encounter. If he was willing to talk, she had to ask more. “Rentor may be dull, but I’ve never been. Would you mind talking about it? Is it anything like Imperial worlds?”

"It's an aquatic planet entirely, similar to Manaan if you've ever been there. Colder, though. The colonies were scattered on icebergs in the habitable temperature zones."

"How unusual. Is that even safe?"

He smiled thinly. "The icebergs are quite stable. As for living in them, the Ascendancy’s own capital is a frozen planet; making a life in the ice is nothing new for us."

"Sounds awfully…well…cold, but a home is a home. - I'm sorry. You probably get grief for your species all the time, I shouldn't be prying."

"I don't mind. I understand the Sith rarely deal with my people."

You can say that again. "No. I just get third-hand stories of the most unflattering variety. It's nice to see an alternate perspective." She looked out to the dance floor. The wine was very nice. "Accidents of birth. I'm Force sensitive, you're Chiss. Yet we all serve." A comforting thought somehow. "Do you believe in the Empire, Agent?"

"I do, my lord."

"I'm glad. In my line of work I see a lot of vendettas, a lot of odd personal ambitions that fail to serve the greater good. It’s rare to meet a patriot. I hope we can keep in touch, should you ever need to call on me. Or I on you."

"That might not be a bad idea, my lord."

"I thought so." She finished off her glass and looked again toward the dance floor. Vette and Kaliyo were both grooving, the Twi'lek in rapid energetic movements, the Rattataki in slow sinuous gyrations. "That's it, I'm not letting them have all the fun." She shot to her feet and bounded across the long hall to the floor.

Kaliyo didn’t stop that mesmerizing motion as she turned to face Ruth. “The Sith dances, does she?” she drawled.

“Your friend made me try last time we met.” Ruth raised her arms and let the music guide her. Kaliyo looked her over and sneered eloquently. Well, let her.

“You’ve come a long way,” said Vette. “From Korriban and recreational acolyte-smashing, to semi-normal partying.”

“That was strictly professional acolyte-smashing, I’ll have you know.” Ruth had a ridiculous urge to stick her tongue out at the Twi’lek, but refrained.

“Even so. I like the social Sith.”

“I’ll believe a social Sith when I see her drinking the interesting stuff,” said the Rattataki. “Speaking of.” She headed back in the direction of their booth.

“Ever get the feeling she’s laughing at you?” said Vette.

“Did you for a single moment get the feeling she’s not?”

Ruth almost jumped when somebody tapped her shoulder. She turned around to see Darnek, his eyes glowing in the dimness of the dance floor. “May I cut in?” he said with a small smile.

Ruth could’ve sworn that Vette whistled before slipping away. Never mind that. Ruth let Darnek spin her into his arms, holding her just at the edge of too close for comfort.

“Enjoying the evening?” he inquired.

“No reason to complain.”

“It was a pleasant surprise to find you here. Impressive to see you commanding staff.”

“All two of them. Lord Baras has been grooming me for great things.”

His hand at the small of her back pulled her closer. “You’ll be careful.”

She arched back just enough to meet his eyes. “Of course I will. You don’t go into this business if you’re not prepared to be careful.”

“Good.”

“You’re worried about me.” She grinned. “You’re actually worried about me.”

“I told you on Dromund Kaas, the world needs its sane Sith.” She wasn’t sure how she could tell that those pupilless eyes were sliding down to her lips and back, but they definitely were. “And its beautiful ones.” For a few long moments there was only his steady rhythmic lead. “Come with me tonight.”

She blinked and dropped her gaze. "I'm seeing someone," she said softly. Or at least she wished the new unknown quantity on her ship would allow it.

His exhalation could almost have been a snort. "Could've fooled me," he said. He moved his hands a little across her back. "One night, then you can see anyone you like."

She studied his face. There was a certain gentle expression in those red eyes after all. And he had a very, very nicely formed mouth. He kept moving and pulled her a little closer.

Unreasonable creature. He had her trapped by now. His scent was familiar and he was much, much warmer than anybody else she might have had on her mind. She couldn’t back off. Probably didn’t want to. So she pressed into him instead. Yup, perfect fit in his arms. "You don't fight fair," she informed him.

"I'm Intelligence. If I get into a fair fight, I haven't done my job." She didn't reply. Darnek tilted his head to reach her ear. "Was that a yes?"

“Mm. I’ll have to make my excuses to the crew.”

“I understand.” Quick, businesslike, he slid aside, keeping one arm around her waist, and escorted her back to where Vette and Kaliyo were chattering.

“Aw,” said the Rattataki, smiling slyly. “Do you have to tell your mommy before you stay out late?”

“It’s not the mommy I worry about. Vette, I’ll be back by, I don’t know…late. Very late. Let Quinn know I’ll be fully ready for combat and paperwork tomorrow. Promise. Actually, you know what? If he doesn’t ask, don’t say anything. But I’m fine.”

“Gotcha.”

Kaliyo eyed Vette. “That mean you’re free tonight, kitten?”

“Sorry, I don’t do crazy.”

“No? You’re missing out.”

Darnek steered Ruth away with a sudden urgency, whispering as they went, “Better go before she starts angling for an invite here.”

*

Much later that night, Ruth got around to assembling her clothes in one place. "I should get going."

"Roads aren't too nice this time of night."

Ruth stopped with one leg in her pants and one out. "Darnek. I'm Sith."

"Just giving the polite warning. I really don't mind if you stay." He sat up and leaned in to nuzzle her neck. She briefly struggled to remember how the getting-dressed thing worked.

Well, she had left warning with Vette, so Vette wouldn’t mind. Quinn would either have a stroke at the outside-standard-protocol behavior, or not care at all. Probably a stroke if she wasn't there to sign off on combat reports or something. Darnek's hands slid down her arms. Terrible idea, thinking about Quinn in this context. Better not think. One warm night couldn't hurt.

She twisted around before Darnek could quite reach her earlobe, grabbed his shoulders, shoved him back to the mattress. "You win. This time."

He grinned up at her. "I'll try to be gracious in victory."

*

The following morning Ruth took an hour or so to get ready for the day, and at least five minutes of it actually involved getting ready for the day. She blew Darnek a kiss and hopped into a taxi for the spaceport. The Chiss did know how to make her smile. Hell, after her time at the Academy on Korriban it was nice to know someone who could treat her like a woman and not an assassination target.

Probably. Huh. Note to self, don’t cross Imperial Intelligence.

The sight of the Fury's gangplank opening shook her smile, and Quinn's appearance wiped it off her face entirely. He straightened into a salute and addressed her coldly. "My lord. Good to see you've returned safely."

"I let Vette know I would be away. She passed that along, right?"

"Her comment was less than informative."

Yeah, no passive aggression in that stance. "Her word is sufficient when I stay out."

"My lord, I do not mean to criticize your methods, but I must express my concern over...disappearances. In sensitive operations such as the task at hand, if anything were to happen - "

She held up a hand to cut him off. She wasn't sure whether to be impressed or annoyed. He had a point. A stupid, judgmental, uptight point, but a point. Her fault for soliciting his advice in general, she supposed. Hmph. She centered herself on her irritation and pushed against the urge to tell him that she had been in good hands. She wouldn't be able to keep a straight face for that one. "I'll call next time." After excusing herself from Darnek or any other fellow's presence; calling the man back home didn't strike her as the most politic of mid-flirtation moves.

He nodded sharply, clearly unsatisfied. "Do as you will, of course, my lord."

"I intend to." Enough of that. "Is Vette up?"

"I believe so." He stepped aside to let her pass up the gangplank.

Ruth found Vette in the mess, eating some confection that definitely had not come from the ship's stores. The Twi'lek smirked at her. "You look happy."

"Funny, I feel incredibly annoyed. You told the captain there was nothing to worry about, right?"

"Sure did. If looks could kill…tell me it was worth it, at least?”

"Oh, yes."

Vette held up her hand. "No details, though. General sympathy happiness only."

"Of course." She lifted her chin. "Time to make some trouble."

*

Quinn was waiting outside the ship when Ruth headed out again. "My lord. Now that you finally have time to consider the mission..."

None of that. "Problem, Captain?"

"Not at all, my lord. I merely note that your schedule has left limited time for the investigation."

"Rathari has an operating base in the Network Access district. His remaining two apprentices guard the place when he's out, which is most of the time.” She had to hand it to Darnek: he made his pillow talk count. “He has appeared in at least two locations in the last twenty-four hours seeking material support; both gang leaders turned him down on the grounds that an angry Sith is cutting down anything associated with him; one gang leader survived this conversation. But the word is out. Whether I seek his location or not, Rathari has to come to me soon."

Quinn pressed his lips together and processed that for a moment. “I see, my lord,” he said, clipping every word. “Your conclusion is sound. I await your order.”

She couldn't help but grin. You're not the only one with effective methods, gorgeous. "Let's go, then."

Wynston

January, 12 ATC – six months after the confirmation of the Wrath

When Wynston arrived at the estate of the Emperor’s Wrath, the Twi’lek Vette answered.

“Hey,” she said. “Come on in, the Wrath is waiting.” Vette hesitated while he passed into the antechamber. “She’s…different. Just to warn you.”

“Anything specific I should know?”

“She won’t trust you.”

“Yes, I gathered that from our holo conversations.” The months since Ruth’s official recognition as the Emperor’s Wrath had, by all accounts, not been kind to her. It was one of the reasons he had come to visit in person. Ruth had been a compassionate person and a natural ally to those who were trying to make things better for the Empire’s people. The Wrath, from the reports Wynston had heard, was not. He had to reverse that transformation if he could.

Vette pointed the way and let Wynston go on alone.

Ruth sat rigidly on a small couch near the center of the room he passed into. She looked older, and the unassuming Imperial uniform she used to wear had been replaced by full Sith robes, all black and violet, cut to accommodate a very advanced pregnancy. Even her eyes were different, darker, duller. But it was her. She greeted him with a cool smile and a careful avoidance of eye contact.

"Ruth," he said. "It's been a while."

"Feels that way. Welcome. Please, have a seat." She motioned him to an armchair. “Here to beg for the little intelligence exchange you proposed?”

“No. I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

She barked a short bitter laugh. Then she stood up and headed towards a small bar by one wall. "Something to drink? Do you still do Telos Twists, extra rathan juice?"

"Yes, please. I'm surprised you remember."

She was moving supplies, facing away from him. "You’re hard to forget."

Interesting. "I'd be lying if I said you haven't been on my mind, even with all that's been happening lately."

She turned her head, not quite looking over her shoulder. "You sound downright sentimental." For a moment there was only the clink of ice and glass. “So. It turns out you were right about my marriage. All those things you politely didn’t say about what a terrible idea it was.”

“I’m still having trouble believing what I heard about how it ended. I hesitated to pry, and then things blew up before I could call you."

She turned around with a tall Telos Twist in one hand and a glass of water in the other. "Do you really want to hear about it?" she asked, offering him his drink and settling on the couch.

"If you want to talk about it. Like I said, it's been a long time. I'd like to talk, I'd like you to talk. I'd like to catch up."

"And your angle is?"

"I’d like to socialize with someone who's accustomed to the angles.” He paused. “Also, when I was entirely alone once, you helped me without a second thought. Whatever else is going on, I’d like to try to return that. So if you want someone to listen, here I am.”

She sipped, her expression tense, her eyes dark as drowning. "Did you see it? In Quinn?"

"No. He worshipped you. He was edgy the last time I saw him, on Voss, but I thought he was just annoyed at me or the general mysticism or both. I didn't think him fool enough to make promises he couldn't keep. Not to anyone, especially not to you."

“Well. He did.”

And yet she had let him live and return to military service. "I'm sorry."

"I guess that kind of treachery is unavoidable in this business. It's why I'm surprised you stopped by; friendship is none too safe around here."

"I can hold my own. Besides, not even I can operate in isolation forever."

“Oh.” She looked him full in the eyes for the first time. "I didn't know that."

They talked. About the IX serum, the meaning of the mysterious mission she had helped him with once. She took her turn: Baras' last demands; the bare facts of Quinn's betrayal, quick and raw before she hurried on; the race to Vowrawn and the confrontation before the Dark Council. All things he knew the broad lines of, but now he had the details from her perspective. Then he talked in vague terms about the secrets his mission had drawn him into, the reasoning of his opponents, what they did right, where they went wrong.

She interrupted him in the middle of that, around the time he mentioned the long and illustrious history of the Sith screwing everybody else over. “Stop. Watch your words. I’m going to meet the Voice soon.”

“The Emperor’s Voice. Like we dealt with on Voss?”

“Just like that. I’ve been warned he can read me, crawl around in my head if he wants to. I don’t know what you’re doing now, and I can’t know if it’s ever going to be something that crosses the Sith.” She knew as well as he did that what the Sith wanted and what benefited the people of the Empire were often two very different things. “You serve the Empire in your way, and I'll serve in mine. Just tell me you’re still looking after our people.”

“I am. I promise.”

“All right. I wish I could do more, but…I can’t. So long as he can rummage around in my mind, I can’t know something that would give him a reason to hurt you.”

There was hope in there, at least from his perspective. “You didn’t have to warn me.”

She smiled weakly. “Call me sentimental. I hate to spill all your secrets without fair warning. Look, we have the same goals and I'll do my damnedest to keep it that way, but the day may come when I have to cut off contact. When I can’t know where you are or how to reach you. Not yet, but if I ever say the word…that’s goodbye.”

“I hope it’s not any time soon.” He paused. “I hate to abandon you. You’ve been through hell.”

“You don’t have to tell me that.” The transformation just then was swift: a slump of the shoulders, a very sudden covering of her face. "Can I tell you something? I can't cry these days. I feel like I should, after everything Baras took from me. My father. My husband – and everything he took from me. I can make faces but the tears won't come. Aaand now I'm making a fool of myself."

"When's the last time you talked about all this? With anyone?"

"I was discussing the Ravage situation with Jaesa and Vette just last - "

"Not business. About how you feel about everything that's happened."

"I haven't. Not since Quinn."

"That was months ago."

"Yes. You think I’m in a hurry to confide in anyone after that?"

Well, that explained the psychological decline. Could he slow it? "Let someone know, Ruth. Look at me. I'm living three lives a day, lying through my teeth, making new enemies, pretending six layers deep, but even I have friends I can trust to take the pressure off. Vector, the ensign, a few others. Your friends love you. Don’t push them away."

"I've been loved enough for one lifetime."

What the hell kind of response was that? Bad, bad, bad, and Wynston found that he had a powerful personal desire to do something about it. Whatever had happened between Quinn and Ruth, there was still one obvious possible reaction. “If I see him again, I will kill him.”

“No,” she said sharply. “Don’t. Please. He’s still on our side in the greater scheme of things.”

“You’ve got a funny idea of what people on our side do.”

Consciously or not, she touched her round belly. “Let him live. Promise me.”

“If you insist, I’ll promise.” He was running through her goodwill fast and he knew it. “Anyway, I appreciate your listening, about the IX affair, about all of it. Sometimes it's good to talk to someone who doesn't live and breathe Intelligence operations."

"It's good to talk to someone who isn't neck-deep in Sith politicking.” She said it without enthusiasm, though.

"I should get moving. Worlds to set in order. Lives to save. The kind of work we went into this business to do." He smiled a little. “The mission goes on.”

She walked with him to the door, but she shied away when he tried to step close. “Good luck with your work. I wish I could do more,” she said, not looking at him.

“You do plenty. Look after our countrymen, Ruth. Keep an eye out for the little guys while you’re wrestling with the heavy hitters. Take care of your friends. All that stuff you’ve already been doing.” Except for recently. But hopefully his reminder would help.

“Sure. Thanks for stopping by, Wynston. I imagine you learned a lot. Don’t know how you’ll use it. But it was nice to see you all the same.”

At least she was honest about her paranoia. He had no idea how he could arrange to keep her grounded among people she could learn to trust again, but he was desperate to keep the Wrath’s influence as a constructive, pro-normal-citizenry sympathizer. The Sith as a whole were no friends of the population at large, but Ruth was by inclination an ally, or had been before Baras’s campaign of blunt psychological trauma.

Also, Wynston wanted her to be okay.

Well. One thing at a time. “It’s been nice seeing you, too. If you ever need me, call me. I'll be glad to lend a hand.”

January, 28 ATC – 16.5 years after the confirmation of the Wrath

Twice. Twice in two months Ruth was summoned before the Emperor. She didn’t like it, but she set aside her personal projects and obeyed.

The dark lord slid his heavy shuddering presence through her mind, again, seeming to pause here and there to partake of her thoughts; it was a relief when he withdrew and got to talking. “Wrath. Your mission begins on Nar Shaddaa. You are to pick up the trail of the Jedi known as Larr Gith. You are to destroy her. And her associates. And her loved ones. And anyone she has had contact with.”

“It will be done, master,” she said.

“Good.” The darkness shivered through her once more, and then the Emperor turned his face away. “Go.”

She was always glad to get away from that ship.

*

Ruth was unable to raise her old Nar Shaddaa contact Vette on holo, which was unsurprising; they hadn’t been in contact much lately. She pulled up the files Intelligence and the military had on Larr Gith and the Jedi order’s resources on Nar Shaddaa. Some of her personal guard would have to come, definitely; let’s see, safe houses here, there, some wholly owned businesses thinly veiled by private “owners”; a number of locations a woman on the run could try.

By the time she hit the ground, her people had a fix on one particular building where supposedly the Jedi was meeting with a number of allies. Ruth stopped to say a few words to her troops before she went in. “Larr Gith is supposed to have up to six Jedi in there. I’ll draw them out if I have to. Do not go in after me; the word is that she is capable of…formidable mind tricks. Secure the perimeter. I must go in alone.”

The antechamber had three Jedi. One was reasonably powerful; the other two were jokes, suited for little more than ornamental flourishes before she got to their master and dispatched him, too.

Ruth went for the inner hallway, but a flash of awareness prompted her to sidestep just as a blaster bolt tore through where her head had just been and impacted in the far wall.

She looked up to find a sniper crouched on a high shelf. A quick Force yank brought the man crashing to the ground; he fired on the way down, but the shots went wide.

By the time Ruth closed the distance, the sniper was on his feet, running gracefully along the wall, bringing out some small device Ruth couldn’t identify and didn’t care about because the saber attack was going to render it irrelevant.

The small irrelevant device fired a pair of darts, which Ruth didn’t properly recognize until one had nipped her leg and another had embedded itself in her hip. Her first swing at her opponent missed. She slashed again with both sabers. One strike to her opponent’s hip, one to the knee. Nicely symmetrical between the two combatants.

There was a small sparking popping noise as the stranger fell. He…rippled…and then the holo image of a human dissolved to reveal a small, neat Chiss with a broken cybernetic implant spitting sparks from his hip.

Ruth hardly felt it when she fell to the ground. Her legs were heavy. Her shock was something else entirely. “Wynston?” she said. “By the Emperor’s own name. Wynston. I was sure you’d gotten yourself killed ages ago.”

“Ruth,” said the former Imperial agent, in something approaching a friendly tone. Then he smiled crookedly. “I should kill you. I’m supposed to kill you.”

“I thought we agreed not to do that.”

“Not quite. We tactfully skirted the subject, as I recall.”

“One of these days I’m going to find a man who doesn’t have to tactfully skirt the ‘let’s not kill each other’ issue,” she said.

“And if you’re anything like I remember, you’ll despise him for having no conviction greater than himself. Listen, you can’t kill Larr Gith. You mustn’t.”

Her will hardened. “I have my orders. This one matters.”

“Yes. She does. This is more than the average hit, Ruth. Do you have any idea what the Emperor’s planning to destroy? You can’t, or you wouldn’t go along with it.”

“Our enemies. All of them. Seems simple enough.”

“Your friends, too. He intends to ascend to godhood and he’ll do it by killing the rest of us.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she said, but she remembered the creeping malice of the Emperor’s contact.

“Larr Gith is leading the team to stop the ritual that’s going to make it happen.”

“Which means killing me.”

“You’re not one of the ritualists the Emperor needs. Larr and the others want you out of the way, but you’re not on the absolute kill list. You don’t have to be our enemy.”

Larr Gith had to die. Ruth knew it to her very core. “I really do.”

“Are you telling me you’re with the Emperor over all the rest of us? Even knowing he’ll kill you?”

“I swore service to him, not you.”

“He’ll take your son, too.”

Her blood turned cold.

“And your - whatever the general is to you now.”

“How do you know about Quinn?”

“I’m well-informed. Ruth, please. Listen to me. Turn back. Don’t kill Larr Gith. I can help construct convincing circumstances for your failure, if you need. But then you must leave this place.”

Her resolve snapped back into place. “No.” Somehow she couldn’t give another answer.

“I remember when you could hardly stand to hit an armed rebel. Now you’re telling me you don’t care that all life we’ve ever known will be destroyed?”

“Caring doesn’t enter into it. I don’t believe you, Wynston.”

“I think you do believe me. You know I’m telling the truth. I think caring does enter in, but you’re choosing not to.”

She was quiet.

“You had a better survival instinct than this. What has he done to you?”

“The Emperor? Given me direction, a purpose. Been a better master than any other I’ve known.”

“If that’s the case, you need to get out more.”

“I will not be mocked by you.”

“All right, I won’t mock. Will you at least let yourself be saved?”

“No.” She couldn’t feel her drug-heavy legs, but she raised one sluggish hand to remind him that a Force choke would be easy for her. “For the sake of our friendship I’ll let you live. That’s the best I can do.”

“If you let me walk, it only means I’ll be fighting at Larr’s side.”

“Damn it, Wynston. I have a job to do.”

“So do I. I feared we might come into conflict someday, but I never dreamed you would be so completely in the wrong when it happened. I’m fighting for everyone I’ve ever known here. What are you fighting for?”

“Duty.”

He scowled. “Since when did you of all people join the school of stabbing others in the back to fulfill your duty to an unworthy master?”

“Don’t you dare.”

“And not backstabbing just one person, but the whole galaxy.”

Something nagged at the back of her mind. “The galaxy has never been my friend. My master must come first.”

“You know, I just might not wait for Larr and company. I’m half inclined to throttle your Emperor myself.”

“I won’t disobey his command. You don’t know…you haven’t felt his presence. Nothing you can say would matter, not for this one.”

He stared. “Nothing I can…stars. Is this even you? I had heard…from the Jedi…do you even realize what you’re saying?”

She suppressed the definitely not doubt that was definitely not there. “Yes. Cut the theatrics. I’m leaving as soon as your damned drug wears off, and you won’t stop me. Larr Gith will die. My master’s plans will proceed.”

“If that’s what you’re set on, then I can’t afford to worry about what power he has over you.” He leveled his blaster. “I’m tired of losing friends like this. But the mission goes on. I’m sorry, Ruth.”

Every damn man she slept with... “Bloody hell. Not you, too.” She used the Force to swat the blaster from his hands. He scrambled to his knees, winced at the deep wound in his leg, looked around as if seeking some weapon he could use without having to walk to it. She didn’t give him the chance. Her Force choke brought him high, but not too high to bang his wounded leg against the ground. Hurting him was easier than she had expected. She was good and mad.

Rather than resisting, Wynston whipped out a second little dart gun and placed two more shots, one falling wide, one planting itself in her neck. The surprise broke her Force concentration. The dizziness followed soon after.

“That’s not fair,” she said, childish in her lightheadedness.

Even struggling from where he had collapsed to his hands and knees, wounded and breathing hard, he managed a warm, wistful smile. “I’m Intelligence,” he said. “If I get into a fair fight, I haven’t done my job.” She remembered him saying that once before on Nar Shaddaa, a lifetime ago.

Wynston crawled to her side and drew a slender vibroknife. Her mind was cloudy, but something about the world was gradually warming up, growing more colorful. It was as if part of her were waking up while the rest was falling asleep.

He flicked a switch and the vibroknife hummed to readiness. She couldn’t move her limbs to get it away from her throat, but he stopped before it touched her anyway. “Don’t you remember anything about fighting the good fight?” he asked quietly.

“Of course I do.” She wasn’t sure why he would think otherwise. But it didn’t matter anymore; his outright war with the Sith was finally in place, it seemed, and she had lost. “You’ll look after ‘em for me, won’t you? Our Empire. Everybody.”

“I always have. Why didn’t you?”

She blinked, frowned. It was hard to think. But she remembered she had a mission, and the mission wasn’t to protect anybody. “I can’t.”

A film of tears glistened in his red eyes as he studied her face. He reached over and deactivated the sabers in her fast-numbing hands. His touch, near as she could tell, was gentle. “It won’t end like this,” he murmured. “Go to sleep, my friend.” She felt him press something small, maybe a scrap of flimsy, into her palm. “I wish I could do more. Just please consider not trying to stab me next time.”

You started it, she tried to say, but her voice wouldn’t even begin to obey her. Honestly. Next guy I shag I’m going to preemptively kill as soon as I’m done with him. Or maybe…maybe just stop dating fanatics. She tried to giggle, but her lungs were too tight. Then shadows overtook her.

Her troops revived her some time later. The Jedi, if she had ever been there, was gone without a trace, as were her allies.

Ruth dismissed her own people and returned to her ship to set course for Quinn’s command ship. The compulsive focus on the hunt had faded, and she had promised to help him out if she had time after work. Also she could really use a hug. How she could ignore a direct threat against him and Rylon as she had…she couldn’t explain.

She read the flimsy Wynston had left her over and over. It just said, in square precise letters, Darnek Amun. One of his old cover names. Meaningless. Meaningless, but for some reason he had spared her life, given this to her, and made a request for "next time".

It would seem she had a lot to think about.

March, 10 ATC – 1.5 years before the confirmation of the Wrath

Ruth stood by the edge of a still green lake, enclosed by the stone walls of a grotto in Tatooine’s desert. The smell of the sand demon’s ritual blood still clung to her. She was seeking direction here. She had a feeling she knew how to get it.

The Force moved in gentle currents around her. Gentle, but with a feeling like it was ready to break into storm.

“Get out,” she told her companions.

“Huh?” Vette said.

“I wish to meditate. Alone. Get out, get back to the ship. I’ll return when I’m ready.”

“If you say so.”

“As you wish, my lord,” added Quinn.

Ruth turned from them both to face the placid water. Something was waiting for her. Ruth knelt to meet it.

*

Her meditation was uneventful at first. She settled down on her knees, bowed her head, let her hopes and fears join with the flow around her. Minutes passed. Hours. Something was here. In time, it would show itself.

Time faded. Ruth felt only her own breath and a still anticipation. Somehow, at last, she felt someone rise from the pond itself.

She opened her eyes. A woman was walking towards her. She was wreathed in shadows that crawled like tendrils of black-red smoke around her form. Ruth stood to meet a creature that, within that unquiet darkness, was her own twin.

The apparition stopped only a few paces away. “Try not to blink. Soak in what true power looks like.” Lovely voice. Her voice. “I’m the embodiment of your true potential. I am what you could be if you had the guts to follow the dark path faithfully.”

Ruth looked around the grotto. Everything else looked normal, ordinary. “This is some kind of trick.”

“A deadly serious trick,” said the apparition. “The kind that can kill you. Shall I prove that I am you? We seek Nomen Karr’s Padawan, who can see anyone’s true nature. If she isn’t stopped, she could bring down our master’s network of spies among the Republic and Jedi.”

“This isn’t something to be discussing openly.”

“I know that nomad guide may have crept back within earshot. If she learns too much, we can kill her. Or does that offend you?” A small, derisive laugh. “Don’t you see how limited you are by denying the dark? Give up your mercies and embrace the full meaning of the Dark Side of the Force, or you will be destroyed.”

“My mercies are what define me. Are you threatening me?”

The apparition sneered. “Yes.” She took a step closer. “You are Sith. You walk among Sith. The stench of the light in you will be like rot in their nostrils. Our master will smell it on you and strike you down without mercy.”

“I don’t fear Baras.”

“Then you are a fool. Baras already plots against you. The light blinds you to the truth of your fellows. Baras and the other Sith will have the advantage of deception – deception you allow.”

“I can see the darkness I do not share. What else do you have to throw at me?”

“Think this through. This Padawan Baras wants you to kill can destroy him. He has seen it. What if you can seduce her instead, claim her for yourself? Corrupt her. Control her. Add her power to yours. A true master of the dark side could turn this Padawan and use her to destroy Baras, and claim everything he has.”

“Aren’t you full of helpful ideas. It would be better for me to join with her in the light path.”

“Fool!” snapped the apparition. “One day, the darkness that you reject will overwhelm you.”

The vision went for her sabers as Ruth went for her own. Perfectly mirrored motions, perfectly familiar hums. The only part of the apparition that didn’t come with that creeping shadow cover was the pair of crimson saber blades.

Ruth tilted her head. "I'm better than you," she said simply.

She fought.

She would have expected such a twin to match her strike for strike, but it was soon obvious that the shadow didn’t have Ruth’s speed or focus. Ruth flowed with the will of the Force around her, feeling only warmth, the primal happiness of being in motion, and the steady sense of security she drew from those she traveled with. The shadow was ferocious, but it wasn’t keeping up. Ruth turned, danced, felt her opponent’s weaknesses as much as seeing them, and – there.

Midstrike, the thing brightened and melted into a white mist. Ruth heard her own voice again, this time from nowhere. “You have proven your way is strong. With this victory, our essence is purified. In this clarity, we shall see.”

She had enough warning to kneel before the vision forcibly overtook her. Blinding white; then an encampment in the deep desert, past a Forbidden Pass. She perceived the whole path to it all at once.

“Our journey ends there. Farewell.”

The light faded. Ruth opened her eyes and saw the ordinary grotto: no extra shadows, no extra light.

She stood up and pulled out her holocommunicator to dial the ship. Quinn answered instantly.

“My lord. Status?”

“I’m quite all right. I know where to go. Get Sharack and meet me back at the south end of the Desert Wound Ravine.”

“Right away.”

Vette, Quinn, and their guide Sharack awaited Ruth when she reached the ravine. The three dismounted from their speeders. Quinn grabbed a sizeable canteen and presented it to Ruth with a look that almost resembled concern, except Quinn never expressed personal concern. “My lord. Do you require anything to eat?”

She took a sip to cover her confusion.

“You were out of it for close to twenty-four hours,” said Vette helpfully.

“Interesting.” She felt good. Better than good. “I’m ready to work. Thank you.” She handed the canteen back. Quinn bowed, then ceded the driver’s seat of his speeder to her.

June, 11 ATC – one month before the confirmation of the Wrath

The weeks since Ruth’s master Baras had turned on her had been…hectic. She had had strange tasks on Belsavis and Voss. She had done a lot of assassin-killing. And somewhere in there, Quinn had still managed to make good on his promise to marry her.

So she was taking a little time with him. More than he usually allowed, in point of fact. “You're attentive lately,” she told him.

After some time, he paused in kissing her. "I have no explanation."

She laughed. "You don't owe me one."

“I love you, Ruth.”

“And I love you, Malavai. I love hearing you say it. I love everything about you.”

She couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but he kept caressing her, holding her so tightly as to seem like he was trying to absorb her whole.

At some point while it was still dark she woke up alone. He was probably researching some aspect of the Corellian operation. Of course scouring the holonet for details was more important than sleep.

But not, she reflected with some satisfaction, more important than her.

*

The Corellian operation, as it turned out, had a hitch, as Quinn explained once the crew was awake and ready to move: “There is a martial order in effect in the Corellia system. All ships entering must be fitted with a certain special transponder. Anything entering the system without that transponder will stick out like a sore thumb. And be treated as an enemy.”

“I never heard of such an order,” grumbled Pierce.

“I have been monitoring the comm channels,” Quinn said coldly. “Baras implemented the order only recently, doubtless to keep us away.” He turned his attention back to Ruth. “I do, however, have a solution.”

“Of course you do. That’s what I love about you. You’re my problem solver.”

“It is a job that has come with great rewards,” he said softly. “Now. There is a Class A starship that has recently entered the system, currently in wide orbit. It would be outfitted with such a transponder system. I know the schematics of these ships by heart. If you came with me to extract it, we could get in and out quickly and be on our way.”

"What, I finally get to be involved in these stealth operations? How exciting. With any luck the only guards we meet will be just smart enough to automatically obey a Sith."

Quinn nodded jerkily. "Perhaps, my lord."

"Relax. We've got this."

Quinn and Pierce stayed at the controls to send fake docking codes and maneuver the Fury into a hangar. Ruth checked her sabers and met Quinn at the ramp. He took her hand and pressed it, once, then walked beside her to the hangar floor.

He didn’t hesitate. Out one of several unmarked doors, down a hallway, into a cross hall, through wide-open blast doors to a large empty chamber. The doors, to her discomfiture, closed behind them.

She stopped to consider that fact. Quinn kept on, falling to parade rest at the center of the room.

"My lord, I regret that our paths must diverge. I felt I should be here to witness your fate."　

"My...fate." What’s this?

Quinn turned around and leveled his gaze at her. "There is no martial law and no special signal emitter. Baras is my true master. He had me lure you here to have you killed."

"That's a poor joke, Malavai."

"I fear it isn't a joke at all."

Serious as ever. Perhaps more serious than usual; hard to say. She pulled her lightsabers from their loops. Absurd. Ridiculous. But Baras was his old sponsor, and Baras was a master of shadows. No. Quinn’s defining attribute was loyalty. "And what about us? Is there nothing to the vows we've sworn?"

"I have older commitments, my lord." Did his voice shake for just a moment there? "I act today with a heavy heart. But without Baras, I'd have no career. I didn't want to choose between you. But he's forced my hand, and I must side with him."

"Like hell." She scanned the room, looking for an indication of traps or hidden forces. She had to stay on top of the situation. Think, not feel; that was how Quinn always got things done. "You say you're Baras's man? Walk away now and I'll spare you."

"I cannot do that, my lord."

“Malavai. Walk away.” She would not beg. But she didn’t want it to happen this way, if it had to happen. She didn’t want to be the one to strike him down. She didn’t want to activate her lightsabers. But she did anyway.

Wordlessly he touched a button on his wrist console. A rippling series of clicks and hisses accompanied the opening of a dozen or more doors around the chamber. She counted three bulky battle droids and a number of small gun turrets. "I have had the opportunity to observe your fighting style, your strengths and weaknesses. I programmed these droids myself specifically to target you. In case the crossfire alone doesn't cut you down."

No use waiting. Calm focus was beyond her just now; she opened herself to red rage and it propelled her to the nearest turret before anything actually started firing. Then a thunderous burst, the yelping of blasters, the clank of battle droids. Ruth disabled the first turret and turned around, nearly stumbling facefirst into a droid's swinging vibroblade.

In the mist of fear and anger she felt the blow before it came, and swerved to avoid it. The Force was a nimbus around her, fed by fear, fed by a growing hurt. Quinn was still there in the center of the room. He was fiddling with some small metallic thing - likely a repair probe. He was going to force her to finish him first, wasn’t he.

When she charged, he watched her, his face blank but for cold determination. He drew his blaster, his movements quick and controlled – how often had she admired that precision? – and took aim. Calculation – save as much Force power as she could for the droids – she deflected a flurry of blaster shots until she got in range for the blossom of energy that would knock him unconscious. Who knew, maybe it was gentle enough for him to survive.

She cleared the droids, one at a time, leading them in front of the turrets when she could as she knocked out every mechanical system in the room.

This wasn’t right. It wasn’t right. Quinn was supposed to be her partner. She was supposed to moderate his harsher inclinations, and they were supposed to make an Empire to be proud of. It had all seemed so simple. They were better than this.

He was already climbing to his feet. She had been too easy on him. He raised his blaster halfway before she slapped it out of his hand. “I should have known,” he said. “But I took such pains to calculate correctly."

"You underestimated me when we first met, as well. I would never have called you a slow learner...yet here we are."

Quinn hung his head. "I am at a loss. I have betrayed you, at the behest of your worst enemy." With a very small shudder he forced himself to look up at her, his expression one of tightly controlled pain. "I don't expect mercy."

She got in close and backhanded him across the face. "Bite your tongue." It was easy to throw him high across the chamber to slam against the opposite wall and rebound to the floor. She walked slowly now, in no hurry. A little concentration, a lot of anger, and she raised him with an invisible hold around his neck. And squeezed.

Suspended in air, clutching at his throat, he struggled like any other man. How ordinary he looked. How pathetic. How little like the man she had thought he was. His face turned red and redder while he gasped for breath. This was what it was to want, really want, to kill someone. She had always wondered. She tightened, just because she could, glorying for the first time in the pain she was inflicting. Malavai Quinn wheezed towards death.

Some small unidentifiable thing brushed against the edge of her screaming Force awareness. Her will wavered. She let him drop.

She closed the distance between them and used her boot to roll him face-up. For a few moments he only coughed, gagged, and let his hands twitch. “Get up,” she snapped.

The moments were ticking faster now. They couldn’t stay undetected forever. Quinn climbed to his feet and instinctively dusted himself off. Appearances above all, she reflected bitterly.

“My lord…am I to live?”

“I can make you wish you didn’t.” The Force pulsed in her with a rage she had never known. It was intoxicating. It was excruciating. “Give me your hand.”

"My lord?" He blinked and offered her his right hand.

"No. The other one." She raised her left hand and tugged the wedding ring off to demonstrate.

He paled a little, but obediently extended his hand. She removed his ring without any of the crushing demonstrations her emotions howled for. She now held a matching pair of rings. Quick as losing hope she whipped around and threw them into the smoldering heap of droid parts.

She avoided looking at him now. "You made me weak, viper. As no one has ever done before, and as no one will again. I shall take your lesson to heart. Come. I have questions for you.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Before he could take up his accustomed station at her right hand, she rounded on him and punched him in the face with all her might. “Shut up.”

He struggled back to his feet, nodded, covered his newly bloodied nose, and fell into step beside her.

*

The docking bay was as she had left it; her signal opened the door and she hurried inside. The crew had gathered in the holotransmitter room.

She had to speak quickly. Her combat power was ebbing and an insane desire to weep was rising. "There is no transponder. There is no standing military order or system-wide restriction. This trip was a trap orchestrated by him and his master Baras to get me alone and kill me." She heard several gasps, plus one deep gurgle from Broonmark. "It failed. I still have questions for him, and so he lives. Pierce, please restrain him in the cargo bay. No need to be gentle, but I need him lucid and with all his parts attached for questioning. Vette, please dig out your old slave collar and put it in the conference room. Jaesa, set course for Corellian orbit. All of you – no medical attention and no cleanup for him. That’s an order.”

Pierce nodded grimly. “Done, m’lord.” He moved to Quinn’s side lightning-quick and took the captain’s arm, twisting it in a precise, practiced fashion until a crack sounded throughout the room. Quinn gasped. Vette and Jaesa winced. Broonmark blipped a small sound of approval.

“Wanted to do that for a long time. I’ll question him if you like, m’lord.” Pierce glowered down at his prisoner. “And do what needs doing after. You don’t have to be present.”

“Don’t.” Don’t tempt me. “We’ll discuss this another time. Dismissed, all of you.” And then she fled to her quarters.

The pillow smelled of him. So did the mattress. Ruth choked, sobbed, and settled for the floor. Now, at last, with him gone, with the door closed and her anger locking it tight, she could finally admit she was wounded.

She was wounded, and he was still alive. Something had shaken her will. Something that wasn’t just her weakness for the man she loved – at least, she didn’t think so. Something had saved his life. And that something had to be silenced.

She let herself cry while she tried to return to the height of Force awareness she had had in that moment of fury. One warm thick layer of rage for a betrayal that made no sense whatsoever. Then, meditation. Watching, feeling, hating. This for Quinn. This for Baras. Still nothing at the roiling edges of her awareness. This for being a fool. This for Quinn saying "It is a job that has come with great rewards" ever so coolly before leading her in. This for the tears hot on her face, this for the sudden searing realization that every time he had touched her, it had been a lie.

There it was.

It was a living presence. Tiny. Weak. Too close. Far too close.

She wanted to reel back, but the rush of horror only illuminated the new life more brightly. If she could have distanced herself from her womb she would have done so.

“No.”

But it was alive, and Quinn was alive, and in that moment Ruth hated them both with her whole being.

February, 28 ATC – 16.5 years after the confirmation of the Wrath

The Jedi Larr Gith had made herself scarce; Ruth had agents on the trail, but nothing had come up yet. Wynston, too, had been silent. Ruth passed the time with her own projects, lesser jobs from the Emperor’s Hand, dropping in on one or another of the units under Quinn’s command to lead them into quick overpowering victories. She was the unofficial mascot of the regiment Quinn had commanded prior to his promotion; nobody acknowledged this because that would be undignified, but they got more than their share of surprise appearances from her in her spare time.

And then one day the scheduling lined up such that Ruth and Quinn had the chance to visit their son Rylon on Korriban.

Rylon was just about to reach sixteen years of age and a year and a half as a student at the Korriban Academy. He was tall, fair-skinned, identical in looks to his father apart from the absence of moles and the fact that he wore his black hair shoulder-length and somewhat messy. Ruth had raised him mostly alone; Quinn had been permitted for occasional, usually supervised visits when Ruth was out of town, but Ruth was the parent Rylon knew well.

They met with him in a small side room within the Academy proper. “Hi there, stranger,” said Ruth. “I’m glad your schedule finally opened up.”

Rylon made a face. He had clearly been practicing haughty disgust, as was right and proper for a Sith. “Yeah,” he said.

“How are things?”

“Okay.” He looked over at Quinn, then back to Ruth, and radiated insolence.

“Sabermaster keeping you busy?”

“Yeah.”

“Classes are going well?” ventured Quinn.

“Yeah.”

“Any interesting classes come up?” said Ruth.

Rylon shrugged. “Not really. I guess I got pulled into an advanced program for some Force meditation stuff. That’s been kinda cool.”

“Force meditation. Does the mystical side of things interest you?”

He shrugged again. “It’s all right.”

This is my son, the great orator.

“I prefer the lightsaber,” he added.

“I always did, too. Beats old tablets and memorized names any day.”

“Yeah, your reputation around here isn’t really scholarly.”

Ruth thought Quinn made a small amused sound, but when she looked, he was innocently studying the far wall.

“Can’t get away from your name here,” continued Rylon. “Half the acolytes want to kill me just for being your son.”

“Gives you combat practice, doesn’t it?”

He rolled his eyes. “You could say that.”

“Tell me you’re dealing with them harshly,” said Quinn. There was genuine concern in his voice.

“I don’t leave many survivors, Dad,” he said, and for the first time he grinned, proudly. “I’ve heard some comparing me to a meat grinder.”

“And fresh meat always insists on hopping in,” said Ruth. “I remember how that goes.”

“You didn’t have half as much to deal with.”

“You’re probably right. I had it easy, I was nobody.”

“Which is why I hear your name a zillion times a day?”

“Well, I didn’t stay nobody.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“I don’t suppose you’d have time to spar with your ageing mother before we have to head out? Training sabers only.”

“Nervous about the real ones?” he asked, a dark sly note entering his voice.

“Your father would never forgive me if I killed you, even as a family-bonding activity.”

“We’ll see if you can.”

The three walked over to the yard and, to the curious looks of a number of passersby, selected three training sabers. One for Rylon, two for Ruth, and Quinn stayed on the sidelines, straight and proud as ever.

Rylon set his stance like a textbook model. She recognized the form. The rest she could figure out on the move. She catapulted towards him and got to work.

Where she drew on the Force through a blend of hunger, pleasure, raw determination, and a carefully managed oblique anger, she sensed her son plunging directly into raw fury. The Dark Side surged around him as he flowed from form to form, fighting her. It turned out his textbook was pretty useful. He did a superb job of not being where her two sabers were; he blocked, dodged, spun, managed to keep an attack up without being seriously inconvenienced by her two weapons.

But that hatred…she didn’t know where it was coming from, only that it was almost overwhelming. She sought breaks in his defenses, dodged his attacks, used the Force for some acrobatics he wasn’t prepared for. He raged.

“You’re good,” she told him, trying not to let her own confidence waver in the face of that raw, dark, decidedly unchildlike energy.

He didn’t respond. He just attacked her.

She lost all interest in gauging his strength, or teaching him defenses against new moves, or enjoying a duel. She wanted to stop this. She struggled to tighten her focus rather than just dumping the full (and eager and straining) power of the anger within her; unmoderated Dark Side pushes were for emergencies, not for her child. She redoubled her physical efforts, finally catching and blocking his blade with one arm. Rather than spin away as usual he bore down on her, hard. Before his strength could crush her resistance, she brought her other saber to strike his side. “Blood,” she said.

He was a ball of Dark Side energy, frustration, anger, something that felt suspiciously like hatred. But after a few seconds he stopped pressing against her straining arm. They held their pose, a grip, a frozen strike.

“Well fought,” she told him.

For some reason he responded with a surge of rage. His frustration swelled. He snarled and withdrew, letting the training saber fall to his side. “Thank you, mother,” he said through gritted teeth, and bowed formally.

“Any time.” She wanted to give some advice or something, but she was feeling too heartsick to say anything intelligent. “You’re strong. But we already knew that.”

“Yeah. I gotta go now.”

“Take care then, Rylon. We love you.”

Rylon looked over her shoulder to Quinn, then back at her. “Yeah. Bye.” His turning away was a complete dismissal.

Ruth returned her sabers to the rack and walked out alongside Quinn toward the landing pad.

“He was pushing you hard,” observed Quinn.

“Yes,” she said unhappily.

“There’ll be no stopping him someday.” He made it sound like a good thing.

Ruth forced herself to smile. “He’s our son. Of course nothing could stop him.”

She hoped she would never have to.

The automated shuttle lifted them away from the planet. Ruth tried to think about something other than Rylon’s aggression, but the only other subject that came to mind was the memory of Wynston saying that the Emperor’s plan would kill Rylon. And Wynston condemning her for not caring about that, about anybody. Was that why Rylon was coming out so…so hateful? Because she didn’t care? She had never wanted him to hold the Dark Side so close. Was it her fault he was doing it now?

“Malavai?” she said.

“Yes?”

“Are we good people?”

There was a momentary pause.

She continued. “The things we do to support the Empire. What we do in raising Rylon. We’re doing the right things for the right reasons. Right?”

“Those are unusual questions.”

“Just answer me. Are we good people?”

Quinn reached across the cabin to take her hands in his. “Ruth, you’re the best woman I’ve ever met. And, with one glaring behavioral exception, I’m satisfied with myself as well.”

An exception she would never forgive, but after many years apart they had learned to live with it. It hadn’t been all bad; she used the anger from it to power her fighting prowess to this day. She loved him anyway. She crawled across the cabin to settle beside and partially on him, curling up against his chest. “Good.”

April, 10 ATC – 15 months before the confirmation of the Wrath

Ruth’s mission on Alderaan had stalled. She was seeking the family of the padawan, Jaesa Wilsaam, that her master was bent on destroying, but they were proving elusive. For the time being she had her allies in House Kendoh looking into it. There were rumors of a possible target in the enemy House Organa, but nothing substantive yet. She could only wait.

So she was back on her ship, in the cargo bay. She wired up one of the old databanks she had collected; she had no idea what was on it, possibly nothing at all, but the encryption was a fun slicing target. Anticipation and curiosity were the low pleasant glows that kept her company as she prepped a data spike. She didn’t need grand passion-fueled Force powers for this hobby. That made it a nice change of pace.

Vette clattered into the cargo bay, jerking Ruth out of her concentration. "Hey!" said the Twi'lek. "You'd never guess who I ran into in the Thul cantina."

Ruth tried to think of a snarky guess and failed. "You're right, I wouldn't."

"Darnek. Blue Agent-boy, from Nar Shaddaa?"

"Yes, I remember who Darnek is."

She smirked. "I guess you would. His name's Alexis this time around. Sooo, I took the liberty of letting Alexis know you're in town and he should call you."

Ruth jerked upright, databank and slicing spike forgotten. "You did what?"

"No need to thank me. I thought, hey, after a few weeks watching you moon over a droid, maybe you could benefit from human - uh, Chiss - contact."

"You twit! Where'd your shock collar end up?"

"I dunno.”

"I should buy you a new one. So I can shock you on occasions like this."

"I'm just looking out for your best interests here, my lord." The faint irony Vette gave to Ruth’s title blew up into howling insincerity when the two of them were alone.

"I should return the favor,” said Ruth. “Maybe I'll grab the next Twi'lek I see off the streets, give you an introduction."

"Pfft, please. I have standards."

"I could grab the next non-ugly guy. That good enough?"

"No."

"I know this hot Chiss secret agent, could give you his holofrequency."

"Oh, no. He's all yo...wait. Hmm. Now that you mention it..."

Ruth grinned. "Do it."

Vette tossed the faux deliberation aside. "Nope. You need him more."

"Do not."

"Your current sad sad fixation doesn't care about you." Vette jerked her head in the general direction of the bridge. “Caring? None.”

"I'm not fixated."

"Uh-huh. Right. I’ll just remind you of that the next time you start actually drooling while you’re staring at him. So, since you’re ‘not fixated’ and he doesn’t care, you really oughta get out and talk to someone with a pulse. Like Blue-boy."

"Fine. I’ll call him.”

"Yes!"

"And tell him I'm not interested."

"My lord, why do you never let me help you?"

“Go away,” said Ruth.

*

She caught up with Vette over dinner. "I called Alexis."

"You diiiid?"

"I did. I arranged a meeting."

"Did you, now."

"Yes. Nocturnal activities will be involved."

"Wow, don't lay all your cards on the table at once or anything."

"You and Quinn are invited."

"...Come again?"

"I told you, I wasn’t about to jump Alexis. But he may need some firepower for a job he's got tomorrow. So, since I can’t really advance my own task right now, you and me and the captain are going out to work very, very, pre-dawn-early tomorrow."

"You and the captain are. I didn't ask to suffer like that."

"You started this."

Vette matched her stare for stare. "I'll get out someplace where Organas might be found. A Twi'lek in servant mode can hear a lot. While you're helping Alexis, I might pick up some information on where to look for those people we're actually on planet to find."

"Coincidentally, this plan lets you sleep in."

"It’s true! A modest job perk, but vital for morale."

*

When Ruth emerged from her quarters, over an hour before sunrise, Quinn met her with a datapad containing more information than Ruth thought possible about the target estate. The dossier was organized and marked to highlight the generators, access points, and power dependency paths. “Did you stay up to gather this?”

“Yes, my lord. I thought it prudent to pull together the information in case the agent leaves out some critical detail.”

He reserved a special tone for ‘the agent.’ Quinn had been just this side of hostile to the Chiss throughout the week of their professional interaction on Nar Shaddaa. Quinn’s primary grievances with Alexis were, near as Ruth could tell, that Alexis was an alien; that he encouraged Ruth to take her mind off of work for a few hours every night; and that he did his job well anyway. Ordinarily she would take Quinn’s attitude in stride, but it was early and she wasn’t in a mood for games. “The agent knows his stuff. If your performance suffers for lack of sleep…”

“It will not, my lord. I remain well within my limits.”

“Come on, then.”

April, 10 ATC – 15 months before the confirmation of the Wrath

The rendezvous coordinates were in a glade less than a klick from the fence of House Cortess. Alexis waited with his Rattataki associate, Kaliyo, whom Ruth remembered from Nar Shaddaa, and a tall robed man with features on the harsh side of handsome. In the predawn light it was hard to discern more.

Alexis came forward to greet Ruth and Quinn. “Glad you could make it. My lord, this is Vector Hyllus. Vector, the Sith Ruth and her XO, Captain Quinn.”

Vector didn’t feel like a Sith. Ruth regarded him warily. He nodded at her. “We are honored.”

She returned the nod. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“The plan is simple enough,” said Alexis. “Kaliyo goes to town on the patrols some ways around the fence, give them something to think about.”

“Should be fun,” added Kaliyo. “Wish you could be there to see it.”

Alexis resumed. “Meanwhile we cut into the fence at the back of the generators; we believe there’s a blind spot on surveillance cameras there. Top priority is knocking out patrol droids before they can call home. We enter the central power facility. From there Vector will release…ah.”

“We will release fingerlings, some of our smallest brethren. From within the sabotaged shields they can invade further and disable the inner, anti-humanoid defenses.”

Well, that was a pile of incomprehensible. “Are these…droids?”

Alexis opened his mouth, but Vector cut him off. “No. Killiks. We are a Killik Joiner, part of the hive mind.”

“Of Killiks. The bugs the Thuls are always going on about?”

“That’s correct. We are from the Imperial Diplomatic Service; we have Joined with the hive to facilitate relations. The fingerlings are Killiks as well. We-they- cannot breach the outer defenses on their own, but once we get them inside they will assist us with secondary defenses. From there we can reach the baroness herself, and she will answer for her crime.”

Oh, so there was an objective in all this. It was a lot to take in. “I’d love to learn more of this Joining later. For now, I think, we have some sabotage to do.”

Alexis nodded sharply. “Let’s go.”

“See you kids later,” purred Kaliyo. She loped off in one direction; Alexis and Vector headed in another.

Ruth fell in, and Quinn stalked along beside her. When he spoke, his voice was pitched for her ears alone. “The alien will be shredded in minutes, my lord, and their guards will be alerted to our presence. You can’t imagine we’ll break in unmolested.”

“This is Alexis’ show,” she whispered. “I trust Kaliyo to make trouble for long enough.”

“At least she was assigned a task suited to her abilities.”

*

Fence down. Droids avoided. Power plant gone haywire due to a truly disturbing swarm of thumb-sized flying insects. Ruth followed Alexis into the great house of Cortess. Confronting the nobleman and his traitor wife in the great hall: easy. Ugly. Ruth didn’t have the full background, but the sight of Baron Cortess ordering his own wife’s execution on the spot made her sick.

Alexis’ friend the Joiner spoke up almost before the traitor baroness had hit the ground. “With our assistance,” said Vector, “the terrorist funding has been stopped. Now the nest will claim its price.”

Something clicked behind them. Ruth drew her sabers but didn’t activate. Four monstrous bipeds had entered from the hallway: two legs, four arms, the bodies of insects, their heads antlike, their abdomens hanging behind. Killiks.

Alexis clearly hadn’t been expecting this. “We’re standing in a woman’s blood,” said the agent irritably. “Can’t this wait?”

No, thought Ruth, though she didn’t quite know what was happening. “No,” said Vector. “House Cortess will make a perfect extension of the hive. These rooms will become egg chambers and membrosia pools. The family can become Joiners.”

More Killiks filing in. What had Alexis signed up for with this Vector? Quinn was giving her a look that had the faintest shade of I told you so. His hand was on his blaster.

“House Cortess opposed the Empire and must be subdued,” said Vector. Well, he had a point there.

“The nest is growing and must expand its territory.”

“I never agreed to anything like that,” said Alexis.

“You agreed to an alliance, surely?” The Joiner’s tone was quite mild. “By allowing the Killiks to absorb House Cortess, both the Empire and the nest benefit. Why would you object?”

A surprise change in terms…for mutual benefit, with the added bonus of destroying an almost less-than-worthless ally. Strange people, these Killiks. She eyed the drones around her. She couldn’t feel anything from them, apart from the gentle whisper of life that all beings gave off. No emotion, or at least nothing recognizable at the surface. Ruth turned her attention to Alexis. He had the lead in Imperial interests here.

The Chiss scowled. "I won't let you absorb our ally. Would you be satisfied with allowing his people to evacuate while taking his estate?"

"You can't be serious," sputtered the baron. "I have lost enough today! I will not be ejected from my home, from - "

"The Empire will compensate you. I seek to settle with this hive in a way that doesn't result in you becoming one of them."

Vector nodded. "We are not pleased, but we will accept the land without the people."

"Over my dead body," yelled the baron, raising his blaster and opening fire on the nearest Killik soldier.

"Defend the baron," snapped Alexis.

“We stand with you, Alexis,” announced Vector. Good enough.

Ruth sprang for a Killik soldier, cutting it down before it could so much as raise a weapon. She felt the tickle of a kolto probe at her back, then saw the sickly red of Quinn’s blaster shots coming in over her shoulder. Good. The Killiks were hefty and well armored. Ruth focused on striking at their joints and their heads. Alexis and Vector were nowhere in sight; no matter.

Her stomach twisted when the first wave of drones rose from the tunnels that the vanguard had left. If they came in faster than she could kill, House Cortess was going to be absorbed after all, and possibly her along with it.

She intended to go down fighting. She was adapting to their weaknesses, but they were also adapting to hers; their strikes were coming closer, their defenses tightening up. Were they communicating in real time? She didn’t care to face a learning enemy with a hundred hands.

Suddenly the ground shook, violently enough to knock several soldiers to the ground. Ruth took advantage and delivered several kill shots before turning to face the newcomer. The monster she found was five times the size of its friends, a bug out of nightmare. Killable. She hoped. But big and ugly all the same.

Ruth and Quinn are helping out Alexis and his new Joiner friend Vector. Currently they’re getting swamped by angry Killiks. If they clear the room they’ll probably be okay.

April, 10 ATC – 15 months before the confirmation of the Wrath

The ground shook violently enough to knock several Killik soldiers to the ground. Ruth took advantage and delivered several kill shots before turning to face the newcomer. The monster she found was five times the size of its friends, a bug out of nightmare. Killable. She hoped. But big and ugly all the same.

“Stop this,” yelled Vector, “and they will retreat.” For the first time she and Vector had the same target. The man moved with a peculiar grace, wielding a sturdy electrostaff. He started on one of the behemoth’s legs. Ruth moved to take another. Alexis, swift as a bird, darted to a third leg and started a furious but likely doomed operation with his vibroknife. Quinn held back. His shots were slow – either something was wrong or he had to manually charge each shot longer than usual to have any effect. Sensible man.

The Killik queen’s front legs were bladed. Alexis dodged wild strikes from one while Vector danced around another. Ruth got one middle leg down, slashed and limp. The queen staggered. Vector severed a back leg at the last joint. The queen chittered and swung its head low at the nearest target, dealing a long wet-sounding slice to Alexis. The Chiss fell.

Ruth tried to distract the Killik with a punch of raw Force power. It worked; the queen limped around and directed a slash at her. Its head was scorched with multiple blaster burns. Good. Ruth fended off the beast’s attempted bite with hard saber slashes.

One of its front legs swept in, splitting down Ruth’s arm, shocking one lightsaber from her hand, slamming her whole body with pain. She staggered backward. The beast’s next swing bit deep into her stomach and flung her clear of the battle.

Wall. Floor. Pain. Ruth could only pray Vector and Quinn had it together. Um, or not; Quinn strode into her cloudy vision and shifted her to a less twisted position on the floor. He actually fumbled with a kolto pack. Bad time.

“Not me. Go. Vector.”

“Vector is unharmed,” muttered the captain.

Ruth watched, though. The Joiner spun and leaped, now striking at the beast’s face. Yes. Good. Perfect. Alexis had managed to pull out a blaster. He was dripping blood, but firing with calm determination. Damn. Why hadn’t she brought a ranged weapon?

The pain in her stomach and arm was starting to ease. Painkillers. Good. Clever. Her vision was still a little shaky, but she might yet be able to help.

Somehow the queen twisted one of its last useful legs around, slamming downward at Vector. Ruth couldn’t quite see the details, but she saw him fall.

No. She had nothing but panic and pain to work with, but she raised a hand to start Force choking the monster. She shoved its head up and back; its legs started working wildly – wildly but blindly. Did bugs even have windpipes to crush? She had to keep its head still.

“Quinn,” she gasped. “Vector. We don’t have time.”

The medic finally sprinted back to useful range, adrenal needle in hand.

Her will gave out moments later and she let her head fall back. She didn’t see much of the next minute or two, but she felt the shudder of the beast hitting the floor. She wondered whether Alexis was still alive. She wondered whether any of her internal organs were spilling out, and whether her left arm was going to work properly.

Something stung her good arm and she twitched. “See that the Killiks are down,” she ordered irritably. “See that everyone’s okay.”

“The situation is under control, my lord,” said Quinn. He pulled her shirt away from the gut wound, and his sharp intake of breath scared her more than anything she had seen or heard that day. “I don’t have the binder for this,” he muttered.

Things faded for a little bit. She thought she heard Quinn yelling, but that made no sense so she ignored it. At length some large presence scooped her up – in spite of the anesthetic, that hurt – and she was carried someplace at speed. Someplace, somewhere, finally to a bed. A nice bed. She was probably going to bleed on it.

“If you don’t have those supplies here inside of five minutes, you’ll wish the Killiks had gotten to you first.” Huh. Quinn was nearby and angry. She gathered her focus and looked around.

Some sort of room, which was nice. Rooms were nice. A massive man in servant’s livery was standing by the door. His nice uniform was drenched with blood. “I’m sorry,” she said vaguely.

Quinn was a bright glow of some muddled but definitely bad emotion at her side. “Hold still, my lord. You’ve lost a great deal of blood. We’ll have you stabilized and at a kolto facility soon.”

“Alexis? Vector?”

“Both alive. They’ll heal soon.”

Soon and soon. Good. “I’m glad they’re being nice about us breaking in.”

Somebody else said something in a diffident tone and Quinn looked up with a snarl. “If you have nothing to offer I’ll bleed you. You must have the factor suppressants at least.”

“Don’t take their blood,” objected Ruth. “They need it.”

He screwed his eyes shut. “Shu– save your breath, my lord. I’m putting you under.”

“No. No.” Too much going on. Danger.

Too late. Something bit her shoulder. She slept.

*

When she woke up she didn’t have a weapon and she was numb but something was pressing on her and things might still be near. She twisted and flailed, trying to get a grip on something. Glass and water all around her. Mask on her face. Kolto tank. Safe? Maybe not. The Force slid through her addled mind like sand through a sieve. Too late.

She suppressed her panic, or tried to. A kick propelled her to the best-lit side of the tank. She peered out to see a white room, blank but for a main in a white variant of Thul livery seated in one corner studying a datapad.

She kicked to the surface, got her good arm over the edge of the tank, tugged the mouth release and swung it free. “You. Where are my people?”

“My lord!” The nurse, a broad-shouldered dark-skinned fellow, leaped to his feet. “Please return to the tank. You mustn’t stress your abdominal muscles.”

“Information first.”

A yelp sounded from the hallway and Vette bounded into the room, fast enough that Ruth half expected her to slam into the opposite wall. She skidded to a stop and grabbed a chair from the wall, pulling it close to Ruth’s tank. “Do you have any idea,” said the Twi’lek, “how hard it is to talk your way into this place without some kind of letter of introduction?”

“Don’t tell me Quinn wouldn’t help.”

Vette rolled her eyes for answer, then sat down. “I shoulda been there.”

“That Killik had legs and fangs enough for everyone; I don’t think more bodies would’ve slowed it down much. Where are the others? Alexis, Vector? Quinn?”

“Busy.” Vette wrinkled her nose. “Alexis said he would be back tonight.”

“Tonight? Was I only out a few hours?”

“Just about a day, actually. Anyway, Kaliyo and that bug guy went with him. Captain Coldblood’s off to get some dirt on the Organas or something. Because he’s reeeal effective when you’re not around to do the heavy lifting.”

“He draws less attention than a Sith does, and that can open doors to where answers are.”

“Still not as important as making sure you’re okay. They won’t tell me how long you’ll be stuck here.”

“Not long, I’m sure. I hope you can find something to do. Alderaan is only really famous for its dinner parties…if I’d thought of it beforehand I would’ve gotten maimed someplace more exciting.”

“That woulda been considerate, yeah.” Vette bit her lip. “I am glad you’re alive.”

“Me too.” Just then the nurse coughed. Ruth scowled at him. “I’m not supposed to be still and silent for the rest of the day, am I?”

“It would help,” he said.

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

Vette took her leave. Ruth started a slide back into submersion when the nurse spoke. “We should sedate you for now, my lord.”

“Absolutely not. I’m still waiting on reports.” She clipped her mask back into place using only her good arm, then fell back into the water to meditate. There was plenty of fear and embarrassment and annoyance to meditate on.

It was that awareness that let her feel the flaming fury before Quinn entered the room. He had a head-sized box in one hand, a datapad in the other. He set the latter aside and pulled something out of the former while Ruth surfaced. “Captain. Good to see you.”

He opened his mouth, hesitated, his face blank. “And you, my lord.”

It occurred to her to be self-conscious, more or less. She had some minimal bodysuit on; that wasn’t the problem. Quinn had already seen most of her bruised, bloodied, and burned. But she couldn’t even tell what kind of injury he was looking at now, only that he was deeply upset about it, and that worried her.

“Be careful. You shouldn’t stress your abdominal muscles.” He scowled and climbed the step stool by her tank. He had a breathing mask in one hand. He lowered his voice. “You’d think these people had never heard of a comm mask. This and its mate should let you speak without surfacing. Don’t raise your hand.”

She stopped mid-gesture. Quinn was unstrapping her current mask, expertly manipulating the air valves and fitting the new mask into place. “That bad, huh?”

“That bad, my lord.” His jaw clenched hard for a moment. “With the facilities they have here, it’s a wonder we could save your arm at all.”

“How about the internal organs?”

His eyes flicked down to her belly. She wished she could curl up enough to see. “You’ll live,” he said quietly.

“You’re starting to make me nervous.”

He didn’t respond. Instead he gave a last tug on the tubing for the new mask, then climbed back down and affixed some device to the front of the tank. “Fall back, my lord.”

She let herself drop back down. The officer fiddled with the new device. “Can you hear me?” he said.

And she could. “Loud and clear.”

“Good. Now. I’ve spoken with an Organa informant.” He started pacing. “The encampment Duke Kendoh pointed out at our last meeting remains our most promising target, but it is protected by a powerful shield. I do not relish the prospect of toying with more generators, but sabotage remains our best chance at entry. The attack itself will have to wait while you recover. There is a possibility that we can locate a weakness before then to avoid the need for a frontal assault.”

“Be careful verifying that. You can’t take on an Organa patrol on your own.”

“I’ll get the information you need. If I require firepower…the agent owes us a favor at this point.”

“Ease up, captain. You know that any mission could end up like this.”

He stopped dead, facing her. “The ones I’ve planned didn’t.”

His anger would strengthen him, but he wouldn’t want to hear that. “I know. But he’s still a friend.” And one I trust. No, I can’t explain it. So to put it in terms you understand... “And in the future, if we need to use him, we use him.”

“I’m sure he’ll do the same for you.” He held her gaze for a long moment. “You will be well guarded, my lord. Thul aides will see to your needs. Do you require anything else?”

“I want daily reports. Also don’t keep Vette or Alexis from me; they’re welcome to visit.”

He nodded coolly.

“You didn’t actually bleed the staff, did you?”

His cheeks colored. “No, my lord.”

“Or feed them to the Killiks?”

“The opportunity did not arise, my lord.”

“Good. That’s good. Dismissed, Captain.”

The moment the officer left, the nurse stood up with a needle in hand. “No,” Ruth warned him. “I’m waiting for one more.”

“You mustn’t exhaust yourself, m’lord.” The big man didn’t slow down.

“I can kill you where you stand,” she snapped. Less than gracious, that, but she really didn’t want to sleep yet. “One more. Then I’ll cooperate.”

“As-as you wish. My lord.” The nurse returned to his chair looking a tint whiter than he had been.

She meditated again, and no nearby emotion disturbed her. It was Alexis’ calm voice that brought her around. “Ruth.”

She opened her eyes to find the Chiss, Kaliyo the Rattataki, and their Joiner friend. In the bright light she couldn’t help but notice that Vector’s eyes were a uniform flat black. Interesting. “Hello there,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” said Alexis.

“Just think how much worse it would’ve been without me. Weren’t you down?”

“The queen had bad aim. Shallow cut, big bruise, no more. You got the worst of it by far.”

Kaliyo had sauntered up to the tank. She ducked to inspect Ruth’s belly and grinned. “That’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen on a live body.”

“Tell me she’s kidding.”

“Oh, yeah. Mostly.” Kaliyo winked and withdrew. “I’ve seen plenty worse, but you really did make out with that thing, didn’t you?”

“Your people. The Killiks. Are things…settled?”

“Yes, the matter has been resolved,” said Alexis. Vector nodded silently. “I’m sorry you had to pay the price for it.”

“What are friends for.” She laughed weakly at the thought. An extremely uncomfortable sensation came from her belly at that; what the hell were her painkillers doing, anyway? “I suppose that means you’ll be heading out?”

“Not just yet. We have some time, if…if there’s anything I can do, Ruth.”

“I can pipe some hard liquor into your feeding tubes,” purred Kaliyo. “It’s quite the rush, or so I hear.”

“I wish. My job here involves getting some information. Finding someone. I’m getting tired, but Quinn can brief you. I should leave a note, he has to be civil. That’s an order. Can I record holo notes from a kolto tank? It’ll look ridiculous.”

“It’d work,” said Alexis. “I doubt your hound would take my word for it.”

“He gets touchy, but I won’t tolerate him taking it out on you.” Ruth squeezed her eyes shut and let dizziness rock her for a moment. “I need to rest soon. We should talk later, all right?”

“I’ll be in touch,” said Alexis.

“Be well,” said Vector.

“Don’t get the rest of the way dead,” said Kaliyo.

Ruth slept.

*

Quinn’s daily reports ran together in her head, which irritated her when she thought about it. She had to be sharp. She had no idea how many drugs they had her on; it was enough to keep her physically comfortable, at least. In time she worked up the nerve to run her right hand down her left arm. The wound seemed to have closed, though she could still feel the distinct line of it. Her belly was wrapped in some kind of artificial weave; on the fourth day they removed it while she was sleeping, leaving a mess of extremely tender lumps. Slowly, slowly, the kolto did its work.

Too slowly. Had her targets gotten wind of her activities? Was it already too late to do anything?

“I have to get out of here,” she told Vette one day.

“Yeah. Uh, about that. We’re leaning on the doctors, but they’re not happy about your pancreas or something. Turns out the whole area’s taken a lot of poorly fixed punishment before, probably when you were back at the Academy.”

“And now, as then, I can keep going.”

“Most of it is, I quote, ‘scarred to hell and back.’”

“Then what does a little more scarring matter? We have work to do! And I desperately need a drink.”

Vette tossed her lekku. “Understandable. I can’t get these guys to do anything, though.”

“Sic Quinn on them.”

“And he’ll listen when I order him because…?”

“Because he wants me back on the job. The mission’s at stake here.” It really was, too.

“Ooh, that’ll get him going.”

It took a half hour or more, but when Quinn strode in he didn’t waste time. He shook some nurse off his arm, slammed the door behind him, and climbed the ladder by Ruth’s tank. “My lord. You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then it will be done.” He jabbed some adrenal into her neck and started work on removing her mask. The sensation of mist and heaviness rolling away was the best feeling ever. She was sick of sedatives.

Quinn undid some mass of interconnected tubes, then hit a release button. The kolto gave her an upward surge; while he backed down and started rifling through a nearby cabinet, she caught the edge of the tank and climbed onto the stepladder. Her arms felt shaky.

Her legs, as she discovered five seconds later, felt worse.

She caught herself, more or less, and slammed into the side of the kolto tank while clinging to its upper edge. Deep breath. Quinn took her arm with a firm grip. “Careful, my lord.” She made it down the ladder and halfway to the nearest chair, leaning heavily on his arm, before she had to kneel. That was good for a warm swell of frustration. Weak, stupid. She hoped nobody else was around to watch.

Quinn draped a robe over her shoulders: the first nonmedical warmth she had known in at least a week. She slid her arms in and gritted her teeth. “Help me up.”

For a mercy, he was silent. He helped her to her feet and helped get her the rest of the way to that distant chair. Once she was settled she belted the robe tight and tried very hard to tell herself that she was fine. “How long until I can stand?”

“Difficult to say. For you, perhaps twenty-five minutes.”

“Hm. You didn’t harm anyone on the way in, did you?”

“No, my lord,” he said with quiet indignance. “I prevailed upon them to grant me access to their supplies with a minimum of trouble.” He looked to the door. “I am expecting Vette to return with rations. A small quantity of solid food is advisable. Until then…” He pushed her sleeve up without asking. Her arm wound had smoothed out pretty well. It tickled when he ran his fingertips along the pink mark. “Make a fist. Good. Open. Curl your fingers. Uncurl, one at a time. Turn over. Not as bad as I had feared…they were talking about prosthetics at one point, likely to cover their own blunders.”

“And I’m the only one who got hit this hard? That’s just embarrassing.”

Quinn frowned and knelt before her, one hand on her armrest, to get close to level with her eyes. “I am…relieved that you survived, my lord. Lord Baras would be hard pressed to find another apprentice of your caliber.”

Truly the kind of heartfelt sentiment to bring a smile to a girl’s face. “It’s sweet of you to say so,” she said dryly.

Vette’s voice sounded brassy-loud from the doorway. “I’m not interrupting the mission briefing, am I?”

Ruth shifted to one side while Quinn leaped to take up a stiff stance well away from her. “Not at all,” she said. “I’m told you brought food.” She got halfway to her feet, shuddered, fell back.

“Whoa. Don’t strain yourself.” Vette was carrying a large covered tray. “Captain Stingy said to bring just a little, but I figure you’ve earned a meal.”

Quinn buried his face in his hands. “Please practice restraint, my lord. Your system will not adapt gracefully to large portions.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll behave.”

“Why do you encourage him?” sighed Vette.

“He did save my life the other day. Come on, show me everything I’m not supposed to eat.”

*

Twice during her meal someone disturbed the door handle. Twice Quinn dashed across the room and delivered a sharp dismissal – along with, in one case, a physical barricade. Ruth ate slowly, enjoying the luxury of eating at all. Vette settled next to her and grazed off her plate. The Twi’lek pretended to be tentative for the first thirty seconds or so of this poaching. Ruth didn’t mind either way.

The vague discomfort of her stomach, though, was forming into a heavy, hard discomfort. She hesitated on a bite of bread, let the rest of it drop.

Vette was all wide-eyed attention. “I brought too much, didn’t I. Are you gonna throw up?”

“Sith don’t ‘throw up.’”

They shot looks at the medic. He didn’t comment.

“I’ll be fine. Our next move should be to get back to the ship. Baras must be itching for a report by now.”

“I have kept him apprised of the situation, my lord,” said Quinn. “I have downplayed the extent of your injuries, but a report from you personally will allay his concerns.”

“There you go again with extensive everything. Is there a mirror in here?”

Quinn looked at something near the far left corner of the ceiling. It was Vette who flipped open a nearby cabinet panel to unfold a mirror.

Ruth stood up. She touched the armrests for a moment while she made sure of her balance, then moved to face the mirror and unbelted her robe.

Nothing terrible. Not really. The grey two-piece bodysuit did nothing to complement her skin tone. Neither did the pink latticework of half-healed tissue puckered around the oddly dark, laser-straight indent that angled from below one rib to just above the opposite hip. It was rather interesting-looking, really. Certainly didn’t look like a part of her.

“Ew,” said Vette. “If you don’t mind my saying so.”

“Huh,” said Ruth. She slid a hand over. Much of the area was numb; the rest was instantly, painfully sensitive. “Can’t say I like it. But attractiveness isn’t a big Sith priority, anyway.”

“We can still – there’s more regen treatments we can do once you’re out. Right?” Vette turned to Quinn.

Judging by the quality of his voice, the officer was still facing away, studying the ceiling. “Resources were limited due to the supply disruptions of the ongoing war. We have repaired a great deal, as much as we could. Some improvement will be possible with regular treatment. Beyond that, reconstructive surgery is an option when we return to Imperial space.”

Don’t direct your anger at him. “I would think the Core Worlds would have first-class medical facilities.”

“Before mismanagement. Before poorly thought out allocations of resources, equipment not updated since the last war, before destruction of certain critical supply paths, before absolutely unforgivable delays in bringing things from offworld…perhaps. I did what I could.”

With an effort she pushed the mirror aside and belted her robe over the ugly mess. “I know you did, captain.” She finally caught his eye. “Tell me I can fight.”

“Certainly. That was nonnegotiable.”

Wait a minute. There was a subset of fixing her up that he was allowed to insist on? And that subset didn’t include, oh, recognizable skin?

“Thank you,” she said.

“I am anxious to complete our mission and be rid of this pestilent planet, my lord.”

“Not as anxious as I am. So. Ship, report, we lay the plan, we hit the targets.” She looked around. “Do I have clothing somewhere?”

“Yeah.” Vette opened another cabinet and pulled out a uniform that didn’t appear to have any bloodstains on it. Good. “Meet you outside, my lord.”

“Vette. One second.”

Quinn stepped out while the Twi’lek remained. Ruth took a moment to center herself; she had come from battle and had to go into battle again pretty soon. Better get something out of the way first.

“Remind me never, never to call a man you suggest again.”

“Hey,” said Vette, wide-eyed. “This is many kinds of not my fault.”

“You pushed me into calling him, which led directly into my getting my guts ripped out. You’re like the Twi’lek goddess of bad ideas or something, and you knowingly suggested a terrible idea to me. In conclusion, I’m never listening to you again.”

Vette had a pretty good guilty face.

“I am kidding,” Ruth clarified. “This is my expression of humor for the month before I have to go back to business.”

Vette responded by hugging her. “Sith Business. Sure. But just between you and me, I’m really glad you’re okay.”

Ruth hugged her back. “Thanks.” Then, stepping away: “Now. Sith Business.”

“Grr,” said Vette helpfully.

Early in 28 ATC – 16.5 years after the confirmation of the Wrath

Quinn traced the scar that warped Ruth’s upper lip. “This has been bothering me for the longest time,” he said. “I can’t figure how a lightsaber did that without destroying your mouth entirely or at least hitting your jaw or nose.”

“Easy.” Ruth cast about the bed for something to illustrate with and had to settle for her hand. “The Jedi is airborne, right? Striking downward. I’m turning. Pulling my face backwards, not quite fast enough. Saber tip comes down and in, like so, cuts in, corner of the nose to middle of the lip, gets me good and mad, but I pull clear before she can adjust her angle of attack.”

“And why was she airborne in the first place?”

“She jumped around a lot.” Having finished the tactical illustration, Ruth relaxed back into the crook of Quinn’s arm and grinned up at him. “You could ask her why, except she’s dead.”

“Yes, I guessed as much.”

“I’m still mad about her, though. All this time, she’s the only one who managed something really disfiguring.”

Quinn trailed his free hand down to her belly, an unevenly colored mass of scar tissue, some very old, some less so.

“Nobody sees that,” she said. “It doesn’t count.”

She could see his finger tracing the haphazard ridges, but she couldn’t feel most of it. “I don’t want to criticize your methods,” he said, “but I went to a great deal of trouble to patch you up, and then the moment I turned my back, it seems you embarked on a concentrated campaign of layering additional trauma.”

“So my torso’s a popular target. I’ve done nothing to encourage this. Apart from starting all the fights in the first place, I suppose.”

“Having seen the number of energy weapons discharged into your gut, and having had to extract a number of sharp objects from the same, I am forever amazed that you managed to carry a child.”

“I’m just that good.” She chuckled. “The doctors said I could do it again, if I ever wanted to.”

“Have you ever thought about doing so?”

“What, having another baby?”

He nodded.

She took a moment to think. “The circumstances never came close to being right. I wanted a partner, and that just…no. I thought about it sometimes, but it didn’t turn out that way.”

He watched her steadily with those dark blue eyes. “What about now?”

“I thought about it,” she repeated. “But even after we started seeing each other, the situation wasn’t exactly stable. I decided not to bring it up. It feels like it’s a little late to start.”

“I see.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m glad we have Rylon. I love him. I’m proud of him. At the same time, if you ever wanted, I would be overjoyed to have another child with you. And to be there for this one from the start.”

“I think I like the sound of that.” She reached up to stroke his hair. He was still far too young for that speckling of grey. “We’ll have to talk about how inconvenient it’ll be to manage this with work.”

“I know. The old contingency plans are slightly out of date.”

“I blew off the old contingency plans anyway.”

There was a moment’s hesitation while they looked at each other and tried to decide whether to be hurt or not. Ruth resolved it with a wry smile. He returned it, and kissed her. “Anyway, I have a little more work to do,” he said. “I’ll be along to sleep shortly.”

Ruth took over the bed the moment he was gone. She was more or less accustomed to sharing when she had to, but that didn’t mean she was going to let unused space go to waste.

A baby. The prospect was at once exciting and daunting. There was Wrath work to manage, of course. There was whatever the Emperor decided. It was comforting that he hadn’t chosen to interfere with her earlier pregnancy. She wasn’t exactly inclined to call him up and ask permission now, but perhaps running it by the Emperor’s Hand, the Servants who gave her her everyday assignments, would be prudent. There was whatever storm Wynston was bringing her way, if he was bringing anything at all, if his claims about the Jedi Larr Gith and the Emperor’s plans for indiscriminate destruction were true. Then again, that might not come to pass. She had Quinn to help her now. And she had already managed one child in this uncertain galaxy.

Circumstances couldn’t possibly be worse than last time.