"Vette!" bellowed Adwynyth.

"It's not my fault!"

"What did I tell you when we first came in here?"

"But I--"

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU?!"

"Don't touch anything."

"And what did you do?"

"Okay, in my defense--"

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

"I tried to pry the pretty gems out of the control panel."

"And what were those gems?"

"Buttons, I guess."

"You guess?! Why else do you think we all look like you?!"

Adwynyth looked at her newly blue skin, then felt back for her brand new lekku. Pierce didn't look too bad as a blue Twi'lek and really didn't seem too bothered either, but Quinn just couldn't pull off the look of disdainful pride with blue skin and bluish purple eyes, even in his typical parade rest. "I think we should kill her, my lord."

"You've been saying that since Balmorra."

"Well, yes...I just thought it bore repeating."

Jaesa was quietly crying at the loss of her glossy dark hair, and Broonmark...he was quietly wheezing and coughing, having been ripped out of his very different body and transplanted into this one. He was squinting, probably not used to only having two eyes, either.

She walked over to him. "Sorry, big guy. This must be the roughest on you."

"Damn *$%#ing right it is, lady. I can't even speak properly," he said in clear perfect Basic.

"Um...you just did."

"No, not this inelegant mish-mash of haphazard syllables. The perfect trill and precise grammar of Talz. I can't face any of my species like this, ever!" He blinked a few times. "And how the hell do you people navigate with only two eyes? I don't have any depth perception to speak of. And let's not get started on my beautiful fur." He stumbled off to cry in the corner with Jaesa, and very nearly tripped over her.

Adwynyth turned back to Vette, walked up to her, and smiled. Vette was frightened beyond rational thought. Her sister the Sith usually raged, killed a few things...maybe more than a few...when she got angry. She'd never seen a cold rage like this.

"Here's what's going to happen, Vette. You're going to put the pretty gems back on the control panel, right where they were, in the proper order. Then you're going to remember exactly what order you touched them in, and where we all were when that happened..."

"Oh, stow it. I was just having some fun." same a voice from behind her. Everyone whirled, weapons at the ready, as a cohesive unit. Even Broonmark and Jaesa were up and ready in the barest fraction of a second.

"Hey, not bad for ape-children." There stood a Rakata.

"Wait, I thought you were all dead. And why are you speaking Basic?"

"Girl, please. All of you in this room have the combined IQ of a three-day-old Rakata with a concussion. We all speak Basic. We just speak the Old Tongue to screw with you."

Jaesa spoke up at this. "Why this? Okay, I'm down some hair and I dunno what the hell to do with these lekku that doesn't hurt, but do you realize what you did to poor Broonmark? The guy's a nine-foot wall of fur with a tube for a mouth, for Force sake!"

"You guys are no fun." He snapped his fingers and the machines began to rumble. A second later, everybody was back to normal. "Why are you here, anyway? It's usually just those cackling lunatic lightning-chuckers that come in here, looking for ultimate power or body reconstruction or some stupidity like that."

Adwynyth looked embarrassed. "Well, my cousin's a sorceror..."

The Rakata actually facepalmed. "Color me surprised. And your lovely Twi'lek pal there likes to steal shiny things..."

"Yes I do," Vette spoke up proudly. She stepped forward and shook hands with the ancient creature, who actually gave a good-natured laugh.

"Alright, you're cute and harmless enough...keep those then. I've got spare buttons in the supply closet I can--" Vette was off like a shot. "Hey, where is she going?"

Adwynyth facepalmed this time. "You used the magic words..." The Rakata just looked confused. "More shinies."

Recognition dawned in the Rakata's eyes. "Oh no she won't, I'll...hey, where's my wallet? And my keys? My watch?! How did she do that?!"

The Sith started to walk away and gestured to the rest of the crew to join her. "You figure it out, Mister Ultra-intelligence, you tell me. I've been trying for a couple years now. I'll be back at our ship."

"You're just going to leave her here to plunder?"

Pierce, last out the door, was the one to answer. "Hey, we only let her steal what she can carry herself. Otherwise, she'd have the Sith statues from Dromund Kaas in her bedroom."

Yes, the Health prompt has to do with this being the "rebuild your body" machine chamber from the Inquisitor quest line. The Rakata (Fred, by the way) obviously used that to make them all Twi'leks.

Vette stretched and reached up with a 100-credit bill. "Thanks. That was heavenly."

The creature continued to pack up his lekku buffer with one set of hands while accepting the bill and genuflecting some sort of thanks with the other. He sketched a quick bow and said something in speech that was a cross between a dubstep rhythm and the result of too much Dantoonian cabbage in one's diet.

The Twi'lek relaxed and put her sunglasses back on over closed eyes. "This is the life. How did you find this planet anyway?"

Adwynyth smiled, her eyes closed under her sunglasses as well. "A little mynock told me." That earned her an ice cube thrown from Vette's drink. "Honestly?"

"Honestly." The former slave was interested now. "Is it some secret Sith vacation planet or something?"

"Okay, you know how we used to get drunk every night and throw darts at the galactic map in the briefing room?"

Vette laughed. "Yeah, until Captain Starchy-Drawers came along and ruined it."

"Hey, we got our revenge. Making him take an incoming call from Baras while tied to a chair and mummified with bandages was priceless."

"Didn't you get in trouble for that?"

"Bah. I can handle Darth Cookie Monster. OM NOM NOM NOM..."

Vette climbed back up on her lounger. "No fair making cute Twi'leks fall off their chairs. Anyway, planet, darts..."

"Right. Well, I've got this weird curiosity gene or something. Every time we did that, I looked up the planets we skwered. Or came closest too."

"Even the Republic ones?" The red Twi'lek took off her shades and turned toward the human. "Wow."

"Yeah. Figure I might as well know something about the galaxy. Not like I got any sort of real education at the Academy. It was all stab, kill, plot, Dark Side, evil evil evil. I mean I'm dark and Sithy, but those jokers seriously need to get laid or something."

"Was Baras the first master you got there?"

"Stars, no. And the Academy on Korriban wasn't the first I went to, either. I started out at this little hole in the wall on...hell, I still don't know what planet that was. I was just a kid. Got taken from my parents when I was a toddler. I don't even really know them."

"Really? I thought only the Jedi did that. Well, without the kidnapping part."

"No. There was even some kid in my early Korriban classes...Ziost...Zi'or...something like that. His dad was trying to smuggle him somewhere, and his mom hired a bounty hunter to kill her own husband and send the boy to the Academy. By the time I met him, he'd already been there a long time and wow, was he a piece of work."

"So who was your first master on Korriban?" Rarely did Vette get serious like this, but usually it was stuff about people. Most often about Adwynyth. She took family seriously, even adopted family.

"An Overseer named Tremel. I felt a bond with him the second I stepped off the shuttle. I didn't find out till later that most acolytes are shipped in by the shuttle load, and usually have some minor student assistant waiting to yell out their room assignments. Tremel came to greet me himself, talked a little bit to help me calm down, and then sent me into a tomb to grab a warblade." She was smiling at the memory of Tremel despite herself.

"Really? Right off the shuttle?"

"Most acolytes found out the hard way about the tombs. Half of each shuttle-load gets eaten before the rest pull together and figure out how to fight their way to the rooms they were assigned. But Tremel...he was almost a surrogate father. He didn't send me on anything less dangerous than any other acolyte, but he gave it the personal touch."

"So what happened to him?" She took a long draw on her drink.

"Oh...I killed him."

Vette spewed drink all over her feet. "What? Oh great, my nice pedicure..."

"Hey, Sith Academy, remember? Back to Sith business....grrr?"

"Yeah, but you just said..."

"I know, but it was a weird dangerous time. I'd just met Baras, and he scared the hell out of me. And his first order was to go kill Tremel. I wanted to just knock him out, stuff him on a shuttle, and get him the hell out of Dodge or something, but he wouldn't have any of it. Told me..." Adwynyth started to tear up a little at the memory. Vette had never seen that in her adopted sister before. "Told me I was the best hope for the Sith, and he couldn't believe my strength in the Dark Side. Made me kill him, but pretty much thanked me for it. Like it was his honor to die by my hand. Like he was proud of me."

Vette just stared, wide-eyed for several seconds. "Wow."

"I know. Noble tragedy."

"No. You people are messed up. I'm not nearly drunk enough for this." She put her fingers to her mouth and let off the single-loudest whistle the Sith had ever heard. "Yo! More drinks over here!"

"Ow! I was using those ears."

"Hey, when you grow up on Nar Shaddaa...oh no."

"What? It's not like I'm really..."

Vette jumped over and turned Adwynyth's torso to face what she'd just seen: a single male figure, fully clad in Imperial uniform, walking across the beach toward them, posture ramrod straight. "Oh, kark."

Despite Adwynyth's best "wishing it away", the figure paused for a second to take in the two women's bikinis, then continued to come closer, walking a bit more stiffly.

"Quinn! I thought I told you to stay on the ship."

"Yes, my lord. But Darth Baras--"

"Read my lips, Captain. Go. A. Way. We have another six hours, and I intend to enjoy it."

"Of course, my lord. However, there is also the matter of--"

Adwynyth wasn't nearly drunk enough for this either. She ordered a double of whatever Vette was having.

A voice faded just into earshot for the crew of the Fury. Vette sighed heavily, knowing what was returning to the ship along with Adwynyth.

"...master. Shall we continue liquidating the undesirables?" The Sith bounced up the ramp and into the common area, covered from head to toe in blood, and with a spring in her step they hadn't seen in quite some time. HK-51 followed behind, sniper rifle held at the ready position. "Observation: Master, the meatbags are still infesting your ship. Would you like me to liquidate them for you?" He aimed at Vette, who squeaked and hid behind the holoterminal.

"No no, HK, she's my friend. They're all my friends, my adorable little ship-rats!" She made an expansive gesture to encompass the Fury's inhabitants, all of whom were watching a Huttball match on the holo, not having anything else to do.

Jaesa groaned. "Master, please, would you stop calling us that? We're your crew. I'm your apprentice. And you haven't taken me out to fight with you in weeks."

"I know, but HK is just so good at it! I still can't believe we rack up kill counts twice what all of us used to get back before we found him. I mean look at me; I haven't been able to wear the same outfit twice in a row. Hell, I don't even care what I'm wearing now, because it's ruined from blood every day...I love it!"

And indeed, the Sith was just wearing a simple jumpsuit, having discarded the frilly and distracting dresses for a simpler, easier-to-change mode of dress, owing to the level of gore she seemed to collect in combination with the assassin droid.

Quinn cleared his throat. "Yes, my lord. About that, the laundry and clothing budget has tripled in the last--"

Adwynyth nearly facepalmed until she remembered her hands were sticky with blood. "Oh, can it, Captain Paperwork. You know I make six times what we spend, even with our habits."

"Milord, I think that thing's a menace," Pierce finally spoke up. "It doesn't have a soul. Me, I like to enjoy my killing and blowing things up. That thing can't enjoy anything, just blabber about how he does, 'cuz he's programmed to."

Broonmark was emboldened to say something. "Sith clan's smelliest speaks truth. Machine has no honor, no spirit. Cannot be loyal."

Adwynyth didn't quite catch that. "What did he say?"

Pierce repeated it word for word. Everybody just gaped. "What? You've got me so bored from hanging out with this lot that I learned to speak Talz."

"Smelliest accent not bad either." Broonmark remarked.

"Someday, mate, you're gonna tell me why you think I'm the smelliest," he promised the walking murder muppet, who only wheezed a laugh. "Anyway, m'lord, I think you should bury that thing back where we found it, in little bitty pieces. Tell it to stand still, and I can arrange the 'little bitty pieces' part."

HK aimed at Pierce at that last comment. "Conclusion: Master, this unit has been threatened by the meatbag. Commencing termination protocols."

"Stand down, HK!" the Sith roared. "I already told you, add these beings to the permanent list of 'non-targets'. These are my friends."

The droid reluctantly put lowered the rifle, although he didn't put it away. "Reluctant compliance: Very well, master. I will have trouble assimilating non-response to the threats uttered by these organics..." he began mumbling disconsolately.

Adwynyth turned to her crew. "See? He's perfectly--"

"...no matter how much pleasure my circuits feel at fighting beside someone..."

"--safe and will be a good addition--"

"...who's not a complete amateur in the art of killing."

The Sith's head turned so fast toward HK-51 that the crew could have sworn the air displacement it caused was actually audible. Her expression was deadly, a fact obviously lost to the assassin droid. "What. Did. You. Say." Her voice was even more frighteningly calm than when Vette had turned them all into Twi'leks.

HK's voice was condescending amusement itself. "Arrogant Boast: Come now, master. I was built for this." He said as if explaining to a child. "You are a Sith, and that makes you deadly for a meatbag. But your meager skills simply cannot compare--"

The droid's shield generator popped on just in time to deflect a thrown lightsaber, which returned to Adwynyth's blood-stained hand immediately. He said something about reconfiguring friend/foe recognition something-or-other, and then he and Adwynyth were a blur of hand-to-hand moves, blaster bolts, and lightsabers.

Jaesa was rooted to the spot in horror. "I've...I've never seen lightsabers move so fast. It's...physically impossible, even with the Force."

Vette had procured some popcorn somewhere. "Obviously not, honey," she said with the air of an expectant gambler as she munched.

Quinn was thinking to himself, really? She can move like that? I simply must convince her to try that in the bedroom...

Broonmark looked as if he wanted to join the action, but simply couldn't find a way in without getting hit by both. He put away his vibrosword (no one knew exactly where it went when he stuffed it in his back-fur) and sat down, sulking.

Pierce was glancing at Vette, waiting for the Twi'lek to make a bet proposal, but in all honesty she was too entertained to wager...a first for Vette.

All of a sudden, the melee was halted. Adwynyth was standing in front of the droid, breathing heavily. HK actually put his rifle away, and sounding as if he was cognizant of the insult that implied to the Sith, crowed, "Insufferable Crowing: So you see, Master, you simply cannot compete when your child-like rudimentary--"

Nobody would quite articulate what happened next until later.

As the word "rudimentary" was emitted from HK-51's vocabulator, three things happened simultaneously: Adwynyth's hand thrust toward the droid, her eyes glowed a bright malevolent red, and the droid streaked through the air in the direction of the escape pod at near-supersonic speeds...and kept right on going through the inner door, through the outer door, through the back wall of the pod, and through the first three layers of the hangar bulkhead. The explosion that sounded was quite impressive, owing to the capacity of the now-destroyed-HK's power cells.

Quinn was already on the holo with the dockmaster. "--and in addition to the repair crews, we'll be needing that spare escape pod I had stored here last month. Yes, thank you."

Adwynyth just stared, open-mouthed, at her husband.

"I calculated the odds as soon as we found the first piece of that monstrosity, my lord. And given your stance..."

Quinn was swept off his feet by a force-rushing Sith and carried to their bedroom. His "evil genius" thing was something she couldn't resist.

"Well, looks like things are back to normal around here," remarked the Twi'lek as she went down the ramp to meet the repair crews.

"You do realize this is your fault?" It wasn't really a question, but seemed to require a response, so the question mark was placed there by Adwynyth as a sign of courtesy.

"Yes, my lord."

"And you do realize that I get to taunt you with this for years to come."

"I really wish you wouldn't--"

"Decades even!"

Malavai Quinn sighed, resigned to the unpleasant fact. "I probably could have planned this better."

"Really? You think? Especially given your extensive experience with droids?!" The Sith pinned him with a lethal glare. In fact it was the same lethal glare she'd used for the year or so since he'd made a very grave error in judgment and ethics, just laundered and taken out for a spin for the first time in months.

"I presume that was meant to be humorous? Let me see, what does the Official Imperial Style Guide have to say about humor under life-threatening conditions? Hmmm...no, I don't believe that qualifies, my lord."

"Let's see the Sith Style Guide says...hmm, it says 'cram a nerf in it'."

"That may qualify. I'll have to consult the Citadel at once, my lord."

Adwynyth allowed that a snort of not-quite-laughter. "How long do you think it'll take Vette and Pierce to get here in a shuttle?"

"Travel time should only be a few hours, but much depends on how soon they were able to receive the distress beacon, and indeed whether it was actually sent at all before...it was disengaged."

"'Before it was disengaged', eh? That's a very clinical way of saying 'before the crazed protocol droid blew up the main console on the bridge because he doesn't understand us and thinks we're invaders from a fictional Republic ally'. And why did you think it was a good idea to test the high-powered blaster you installed at the same time as the new security protocols? And why didn't you notice that the Talz language program you were playing with would interfere? I can barely program the holo to record 'Game of Darths' but I know how to read a big flashy error thing like that."

"Efficiency, my lord. Testing several improvements at once saves time."

The young Darth changed position and winced at the bandaged spot on her leg where the droid had gotten in a serious blaster burn. "Yeah, because all this hiding in the cargo bay that we're doing is saving tremendous amounts of time. Did you really have to equip him with cortosis neck armor, too? A simple beheading solves most droid problems."

"In my defense, my lord, I did that less than a month after initially joining your crew, after seeing you behead the poor thing six times in the span of a week. His programming was treading fairly close to 'schizophrenia' before I was able to reverse the damage. After you learned to deal with him on more of an ignoring basis and less of a lightsaber guillotine basis, I admit I forgot all about it."

"So, because you were aiming for efficiency, and trying to protect the droid from my quite logical wrath, we're now barricaded in the cargo bay of a ship over which we no longer have control, hiding from a murderous protocol droid with a high-powered blaster who only speaks and understands Talz and thinks we're invaders from one of Vette's holonovels. And you did this while Broonmark is away on vacation, hunting on Ilum."

"Essentially correct, my lord. However, I should like to point out--"

"Malavai, my darling?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Shut up."

"Yes, my love."

"And remind me to kill you later."

"Of course, my lord. I'll put it right before 'jump into the sarlacc pit' on my to-do list."

"Ready, m'lord?"

"Ready, Pierce. And you can drop the m'lord. My name is Adwynyth."

"Yes, m'lord. See? It's a reflex. Couldn't change if I wanted to." The big man smiled, resplendent in his tuxedo. "Now, are we ready?"

"Ready."

"And-a one, and-a two, and-a..." Lt. Pierce, on detached duty for the purposes of finding the War Trust, and Lord Adwynyth, newly-promoted apprentice to Darth Baras, began dancing the waltz in the cargo bay of her ship. She had improved rapidly in the time the veteran special forces officer had been instructing her, and he was extremely impressed. Not only was she a good learner, but possessed the natural grace and fluid movements of...well...a dancer. "You're very good at this, and getting better every time."

Adwynyth, resplendent in a ball gown a cut or two above her usual battle gear, batted her eyelashes teasingly, not missing so much as a step. "I'll bet you say that to all the Sith Lords."

"Only the ones I'm working for," he replied smoothly, refusing to take the bait.

Wow, he's a tough nut to crack, thought the Sith to herself. Almost makes me want to do this for real and see if he's any harder to get than Quinn. Or maybe that's why he's playing hard to get. "Are you rejecting my advances, Lieutenant?"

"Absolutely, m'lord. You don't seem the type to fry me for sayin' 'no', and besides, I'm pretty certain you're teasing." He got an evil glint in his eye. "Let's try something a bit more advanced. You seem to be getting bored with the basics."

Adwynyth laughed, a carefree laugh she hadn't been able to indulge for a while. "Good eye, Pierce, on both counts. Do your worst."

The big man set off on a series of complex steps and turns and even a few dips, but his protege was right there with him. Her instincts, possibly with a bit of help from the Force, enabled her to intuit where he was going a split second before she needed to get there. Truth be told, he was far better than he'd let on, and was excellent at leading her without a word or a glance, using only his body to instruct.

"You're better at this than you gave yourself credit for when I asked if you could teach me. Why aren't you instructing at the Naval Academy or working the holo? You've clearly more than enough skill and grace."

"Well, m'lord, as much as I enjoy doing this..."

"Yes?"

"I enjoy blowin' things up even more. Besides, there's a lot of hoity-toity types I'd have to deal with, and diplomacy's not my strong suit."

"I suppose not. But you'd be an excellent ringer for me to take to a Sith event at the height of the season. I'd put that Darth Lachris in her place."

"No thanks, m'lord. As much as I can't stand hoity-toity types, Sith drive me even more buggy." That caused her to lose her step and trip fairly ungracefully to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Pierce. I didn't know I was so unpleasant to be around." She waved of his offer of assistance and got to her feet.

Pierce, for his part, looked flustered for the first time in her sight. "Oh no, m'lord. Not you. Just the crazy ones, which seems to be most of 'em. There's a reason I'm not helping Gravus on his little 'blowing up the planet all over again' nightmare. But you seem like you've got all your chance cubes. I just wonder how long that'll last working for someone like Baras."

Adwynyth started off thinking he was trying to save himself for what, in Imperial space, was usually the fatal offense of telling a Sith he didn't like her. But his demeanor and his candor, another leading cause of death in the Empire, told her otherwise. He was telling the truth. He avoided most Sith, but didn't mind her at all. "Well, thank you, Lieutenant. I like to think I'm still sane, vicious rage-filled bloodbaths aside."

"Actually, that's the best part, m'lord. You can appreciate a good scrap, but you're not bug-nuts like most Sith."

She decided right then and there to get Pierce on her ship after this planet's hellish mission was ended. "You're pretty civilized yourself, for a SpecForces man with a taste for demolition."

He broke into a wide smile, far more than the smirk he usually possessed. "Thank you m'lord. Best compliment I could get. Anyway, I honestly don't think there's anything left to teach you. You took my best and only ended up on the floor once."

A muffled bump told her they were being observed from someplace covertly, but she didn't tip off that she'd heard anything. A slight tic on Pierce's face told he heard it too, and the return of that smirk told her he'd figured out the culprit. Vette would have just bounced in and tried to cut in and dance with Pierce herself, and Jaesa would have stood on the sidelines openly and clapped or cheered. That only left... "I mean, we could have a few more goes. If you felt inclined."

He picked up on her teasing tone immediately. "That would be nice, but I'm not sure there's either of us would get anything out of it."

"Oh, I dunno, I'm ready for another hour, as long as we don't get disturbed."

"I was still holding back a little. You ready to end up on the floor a bit more?"

"Why, Pierce, are you proposing going to the limit?"

"I believe I am, m'lord...and well past."

The muffled bump happened again, quite a bit louder, and Malavai Quinn's voice rang out across the cargo bay, and his stiff-postured frame followed it. "Lieutenant, that is quite enough, and is inappropriate conduct towards a Sith Lord. My lord, I can't believe you would sanction and encourages such activities with junior..."

Adwynyth settled back onto one of the crates, laughing hard enough that she needed the support. Pierce, for his part, was chuckling with that near-constant smirk back on his face again.

"Oh, I see. Very funny, my lord. Pierce."

"Well, look at us, Captain," Adwynyth finally managed. "Does it look like we're dressed for anything...what word would you use...untoward?"

"No, my lord. Forgive the outburst. I would expect that the activity of the evening was...dancing?"

"I was seeking help from the Lieutenant to learn some of the dances that I had to sit out at the last..." She saw something in Quinn's aura she hadn't seen before. "Malavai, you're jealous!"

That hit home, and the reaction wasn't something she wanted to see. "My lord, if that's all, I believe I'll retire to the cockpit. I have reports that need to be written." He was actually hurt, although she wasn't sure whether it was the revelation, or the fact that she'd made it in public, in front of Pierce. He made his exit with all possible dignity

"What did I just see?" Adwynyth said out loud before realizing Pierce was still there.

"He's got it bad for you, m'lord."

"Yes...thank you, Pierce. I appreciate your instruction. I couldn't think of a more qualified person to teach me. I'll see you tomorrow planetside?"

"Count on it. M'lord." He dipped his head respectfully and left.

"Jealous? Does he...couldn't be..." The Sith made her way back to her quarters, still musing a possibility she'd given up on.

"Ow, these shoes are killing me! Who gave Nar Shaddaa, the universal pleasure planet, the worst sidewalks in the Galaxy?" Adwynyth threw the offending footwear across the common area.

"That would be Froba the Hutt. He got all the contracts for sidewalks and flooring in all the non-Hutt areas of this ol' moon. Wanna guess what other business he has his flippers in?"

"I dunno. What?"

"Comfort-glide shoes. And he charges visitors six times the going rate." The Twi'lek took off her sandals and rubbed her redder-than-normal feet. "And what do you mean your shoes? What about me? All I've got is these stupid sandals." Vette's shoes followed the Sith's, bouncing off Quinn's stomach as he walked in from the port section of the ship. He scowled at the Twi'lek.

"Vette, must you throw your dirty footwear and clothing everywhere every time you return to the ship?"

"Does it annoy you?"

"Without end."

"Then yes." Quinn had turned to Adwynyth and opened his mouth to protest, and the next thing he knew he had a slave girl top draped over his head, one cup covering his face.

As usual, he had no sense of humor over the matter, and simply sighed and slipped into parade rest. "My lord, once again I must request that you take some action to keep the Red Menace in line. Starting with her retrieving her clothing from the floor, as well as my face."

Vette, now wearing an "I love Coronet City" T-shirt, practically stood up on the lounge in triumph. "HA! See? I've got you using nicknames now!"

"Relax, Captain. We've had a hard day's fighting, and we're both exhausted from having to walk through some of the largest sectors on Nar Shaddaa. Besides, I threw my shoes down there with hers. The droid will clean up after us...he always does, eventually."

"I beg to differ, my lord. Your scattered laundry has always been cleaned and returned to both of you...by me."

The young Sith tried, and failed, to fathom why the Captain of the ship was doing the laundry instead of the...what had he called himself...factotum droid? "That's insane. Quinn, why--?"

"Begging your pardon, my lord, but perhaps I should remind you of the conversation that occurred after 2V-R8's first, and only, attempt to do the laundry."

Vette was speechless for about five seconds, then began laughing uncontrollably. "I told you that would come back on you!"

Adwynyth, for her part, blinked in confusion a few times, then facepalmed. "I told him if he did my laundry again, I'd take him apart and sell him as scrap, didn't I?"

"Indeed, my lord. I believe your turn of phrase was quite a bit more eloquent than that, but not being inebriated on Hutt tequila as you were at the time, I'm afraid I can't accurately reproduce it."

"I wish you'd told me before this, Quinn. I--" Another alcohol-soaked memory was beginning to peek through the somewhat hazy and threadbare tapestry of the woman's memory. "Oh Force, that was right before the 'if you disturb me this early for anything less than a galactic firequake' rant, wasn't it?"

"Yes, my lord. Although I believe the phrase you used was 'org*smic galaxywide explosion of brimstone and firequakes and chocolate malted'...I'm afraid it became quite incomprehensible after that."

Adwynyth sighed. "All right, give me five minutes to change clothes, and then send the bag of bolts to my quarters. I'll undo the damage and tell him to take over the laundry again."

"Very good, my lord."

The tired Sith made a show of going over and picking up her own shoes, then retreated to her quarters. "Maybe I'll have him give me that foot massage he keeps bugging me about."

"An excellent suggestion, my lord."

...six minutes later...

From outside, Vette and Quinn had been arguing when they heard a blood-curdling scream of rage from Adwynyth's quarters, followed by a lightsaber igniting and colliding with what sounded like metal. The door opened a crack.

"Quinn."

"My lord."

"Get another 2V unit. And remove any reference to massages of any kind from its programming."

"Right away, my lord."

Various pieces of twisted metal were thrown into the hallway, then the door slammed shut again.